Wishes Or Just Paper Planes

As I sat sipping my morning tea, watching feathered visitors to my garden, glancing at the eagle wheeling over the stream that snakes through close by besides keeping an eye on my roses being inspected by an overenthusiastic companion, the calm was shattered by the sound of a plane. Planes are a rarity in this part of the world, one merely gets to hear and see a helicopter now and then. It sounded like a fighter jet. I was immediately transported to my childhood, and the sights and sounds of different planes in the sky where we lived. The stream of my consciousness took me to what I wish/ed for, ambitions, desires - make things, paint, garden, write, teach, publish, care, love, rise high, stay put, run, stagnate, thrive...I still indulge myself in a bit of some, a lot of others and still wish for more, but increasingly I long for stillness, peace, quiet.

Life Is Like A Mountain

Living in the mountains is as unpredictable as the life is. It does teach a few lessons with each climb: there are summits and then there are valleys. The thrill of reaching the summit is only outlived by the joy of being in a valley. Life slows down because one realises the futility of running. You work hard but also understand that nothing lasts; it may be the last thrill or the last joy. Each day needs to be savoured, for the next may not arrive. The challenge that society throws at you is nothing compared to the questions posed by these old and yet the young mountains.

On a walk somewhere in the Himalayan hills.