Empty Days

Monday, September 13, 2004



The many faces of murder.

I can't get over this - likely because there is nowhere I can hide from the meaning of that ordinary fact of life. The feelings that meet me upon waking are similar to what I've experienced after I've been told the neighbour from downstairs has killed herself. It wasn't just a blatant realization of death but an acute feeling of my having caused it too somehow. All this somehow was not just guilt - it was a new take on emptiness, what an empty space death creates. Suicide is a murder - people don't kill themselves, they are made to do it by everything around. For that neighbour I was part of the world that killed her.
And now the tree is gone and that too is somehow a murder - not just by the landlord but by the whole world of which I am part. It's all a symbolic space. I don't know how to say this.

This is what I wrote in june:
Tree of life.

I had a moment of despair upon waking - the usual time for me, when I am open to the realities of my inner mind, defenseless against its never-ending conversation. And then I had a moment of relief.

There is a tree of life growing over my balcony and every day its sun-lit maze is filled with animals and birds - squarrels come to play in its branches and starlings and sparrows and even woodpeckers and red crested cardinals with their wonderously melodious chant. My cat actively participates in this swarming of life by chasing squarrels along the edge of the balcony and purring at the birds and jumping and meowing at all the excitement. But at this time it too was simply gazing at the tree from its corner in the arm-chair, content and at peace, while the squirrel sat motionless under the hot morning sun, among the busy-body birds, and stared back at us - me and my cat - with the distracted curiosity of the wild. And as I laid in my bed looking at all these comings and goings of various species withing a few steps it appeared to me that I too, the amorphous shape in my darkly artificial retreat, was somehow part of this same small circle of sun, tree, animals, life - I too, the big thinking ape motionless and observing.

The feeling reminded me of those familiar Renaissance paintings of the garden of paradise where, in a small frame, animals and the jungle-like nature are represented as the primeval abode of man and woman - and the two lone naked people in the paintings are always so closely surrounded by this contemplative diversity of species, a family of sorts. Including the snake - and the bright red apples, always within a hand-reach.
Yes, it's death and it's murder and this emptiness is evil somehow.





/ 10/19/2003 - 10/26/2003 / / 10/26/2003 - 11/02/2003 / / 11/02/2003 - 11/09/2003 / / 11/09/2003 - 11/16/2003 / / 11/16/2003 - 11/23/2003 / / 11/23/2003 - 11/30/2003 / / 11/30/2003 - 12/07/2003 / / 12/07/2003 - 12/14/2003 / / 12/14/2003 - 12/21/2003 / / 12/21/2003 - 12/28/2003 / / 12/28/2003 - 01/04/2004 / / 01/04/2004 - 01/11/2004 / / 01/11/2004 - 01/18/2004 / / 01/18/2004 - 01/25/2004 / / 01/25/2004 - 02/01/2004 / / 02/01/2004 - 02/08/2004 / / 02/08/2004 - 02/15/2004 / / 02/15/2004 - 02/22/2004 / / 02/22/2004 - 02/29/2004 / / 02/29/2004 - 03/07/2004 / / 03/07/2004 - 03/14/2004 / / 03/14/2004 - 03/21/2004 / / 03/21/2004 - 03/28/2004 / / 03/28/2004 - 04/04/2004 / / 04/04/2004 - 04/11/2004 / / 04/11/2004 - 04/18/2004 / / 04/18/2004 - 04/25/2004 / / 04/25/2004 - 05/02/2004 / / 05/02/2004 - 05/09/2004 / / 05/09/2004 - 05/16/2004 / / 05/16/2004 - 05/23/2004 / / 05/23/2004 - 05/30/2004 / / 05/30/2004 - 06/06/2004 / / 06/06/2004 - 06/13/2004 / / 06/13/2004 - 06/20/2004 / / 06/20/2004 - 06/27/2004 / / 06/27/2004 - 07/04/2004 / / 07/04/2004 - 07/11/2004 / / 07/11/2004 - 07/18/2004 / / 07/18/2004 - 07/25/2004 / / 07/25/2004 - 08/01/2004 / / 08/01/2004 - 08/08/2004 / / 08/08/2004 - 08/15/2004 / / 08/15/2004 - 08/22/2004 / / 08/22/2004 - 08/29/2004 / / 08/29/2004 - 09/05/2004 / / 09/05/2004 - 09/12/2004 / / 09/12/2004 - 09/19/2004 / / 09/19/2004 - 09/26/2004 / / 09/26/2004 - 10/03/2004 / / 10/03/2004 - 10/10/2004 / / 10/10/2004 - 10/17/2004 / / 10/17/2004 - 10/24/2004 / / 10/24/2004 - 10/31/2004 / / 10/31/2004 - 11/07/2004 / / 02/20/2005 - 02/27/2005 / / 02/27/2005 - 03/06/2005 / / 03/13/2005 - 03/20/2005 / / 03/20/2005 - 03/27/2005 / / 03/27/2005 - 04/03/2005 / / 04/03/2005 - 04/10/2005 / / 04/10/2005 - 04/17/2005 / / 04/17/2005 - 04/24/2005 / / 04/24/2005 - 05/01/2005 / / 05/01/2005 - 05/08/2005 / / 05/08/2005 - 05/15/2005 / / 05/15/2005 - 05/22/2005 / / 05/22/2005 - 05/29/2005 / / 05/29/2005 - 06/05/2005 / / 06/05/2005 - 06/12/2005 / / 06/12/2005 - 06/19/2005 / / 07/03/2005 - 07/10/2005 / / 09/04/2005 - 09/11/2005 / / 09/11/2005 - 09/18/2005 / / 09/18/2005 - 09/25/2005 / / 09/25/2005 - 10/02/2005 / / 10/02/2005 - 10/09/2005 / / 10/16/2005 - 10/23/2005 / / 11/13/2005 - 11/20/2005 / / 11/27/2005 - 12/04/2005 /