Now would be the time for me to write profoundly obvious statements.

My last published post, according to Blogger, was 29th of March, over two months ago. And yet, until Sunday, I would say that very little had changed. I felt very much the metaphorical cow in my favorite movie, The Flower of My Secret, when the old woman tells her daughter that a woman away from home is like a cow without a bell. Lost. Wandering aimlessly.

What is the purpose of being in this world? (Oh, yes, I know what you would say, Eleanor Roosevelt, and I'm sick of you! Yes, yes, to live it -- but what does that mean?). As far as I can tell, it is to find a way to bear it. And how to bear it? To find inner peace. What brings inner peace? Besides avoiding question and answer passages like this one, I think it must be to have a sense of purpose. Shit!

There has to be something to ground me here... which is a phrase I love. Because otherwise we would float away from ourselves, as if floating was some bad thing. People are very afraid of being lost, I think. I am petrified of it. I am more petrified that I will never find someone who laughs awkwardly, just like I do, or worse, find someone who does and who doesn't care! How ridiculous to have so little control over the most important part of life.

If life is going with the flow, if life is vibrating energy particles, if life is nebulous and opaque, and if, in spite of all these things, you can't quite say 'Fuck it!' -- well, I guess I'll take the ocean, and the sun, and mangoes. Definitely mangoes. (Guavas are tastier but the name gets stuck in your mouth.)

There will be ghosts there, I am under no illusions about that. I can already imagine them, in fact, and worse, I can imagine new ones that have yet to manifest themselves. But I'll manage.

Yes, I'll manage.