Category: Featured blogs, sites & lit works

The two pieces below were originally published on the blogsite, thingsfromsomewhere; republished with permission.

Lion in a Cage

It feels as if our hearts are desperately searching for something or running away from something. Maybe both are the same thing. We cannot bear to drift in emptiness.

Maybe we are running away from unspoken words. Those troublesome words. Trying to express feelings with words is like putting a lion in a cage for people to watch. We are searching for a noise loud enough to silence the words left unspoken.

We are running away from the darkness, towards a flood of colors so bright that it blinds us; to hide the light that darkness cannot.

***

Lonely Death

A man in his fifties who lived alone was found dead in his home. It had been several days since his death. Then the talk began. If you live alone, they won’t find your body right away. If you live alone, you die young. Living alone is bad for your health.

Fortunately, all the people writing these things had their families by their side. A day or two later, they forgot about the whole thing, and about death. They started reading other news. Cases of domestic violence, rates of spouses cheating on each other and the lower rates of divorce, a mother who killed her mentally disabled child and then herself, a man who ran away with his neighbor’s wife, a woman who abandoned her children.

As these ordinary events came and went, they fell asleep at night holding their spouses and dreamed of other people.

This piece was originally published on the blogsite, thingsfromsomewhere; republished with permission.

Don’t force yourself to make a decision. Thinking it over and over doesn’t help. The mind alone cannot carry the weight of such burdens.

The moment of decision comes of its own accord, without you even feeling that you have made a decision. Sometimes, it comes when one of the conflicting forces within you finally prevails. Sometimes, when a seed that has fallen into you unnoticed slowly takes root, sprouts, and blossoms. And sometimes, when waves stirred by a sudden, powerful wind carry you away.

Of course, only if you surrender to the branches, the winds, the waters.

The following two pieces were originally published on the blogsite, thingsfromsomewhere; republished with permission.

September

If I were God, I would first make every month September. I would deal with the rest later.

***

A Sleep Pandemic

Lately, I’ve been sleeping a lot, and it makes me feel stressed. Then I realized that what really worries me is not sleeping too much, but the fact that I have to wake up.

When I realized this, I thought how wonderful it would be if there were a sleep pandemic. A virus that spread quickly through the air. Once again, the workers who had to keep working would be the first to catch it. They would sleep for days, until they had finally had enough sleep. In their dreams, they would taste the happinesses that the rich could never buy with money.

The madness of endless production and consumption stops. Everywhere is quiet. Everyone is asleep. There is nothing but the sound of the wind, the rustling leaves, and the birds. The world finally has a little time to breathe.

Dreams cover the whole world. Good people have beautiful dreams, bad people have nightmares. At least in our dreams, there is justice.

Originally published on the blogsite, thingsfromsomewhere; republished with permission.

The solid state of silence stands between two people like a wall. It separates them, drives them apart.

But it also acts as a shield, protecting you from words of others that rain down on you like bullets.

The liquid state of silence is dirty water in which accomplices are submerged up to their necks. It is suffocating, foul-smelling, and shameful.

But it is also a warm, clear lake where two people swim together, its water caressing both their skins at once.

The gaseous state of silence is the void where words knot together. It makes one uneasy. It is an anxious wait.

But it is also the cool air that fills our lungs as we float through it alone, as light as a feather.