Space for Wanderings; A Memory of a Pigeon's Nest
I am thinking of a time when a pigeon’s nest used to be right next to the bathroom in the old house. The bathroom was adjacent to a shaft, and a small netted window was present in the bathroom for ventilation. More than ventilation, it served as a place for pigeons to come and make a home. It was further up than where our hands would go so the pigeons were safe from any interference, and the net provided us some security from the vagrant bird. Even now, if I hear the chirp of old baby pigeons anywhere, I would go back to the old house. I am always stuck in nostalgia. I am a product of it, but still, I would like to simply just live in the moment. I wonder if there are more ways to be more mindful. Taking photographs, jotting notes, and making small sketches? How can one be more mindful? These are merely tools for recording time? Isn’t that what writing is, too? An attempt to record time? Fiction is recording a time that hasn’t happened or, in all likelihood, will not happen. Godard said something which I don’t remember, but I do remember one thing: that is, one should attempt to see the day past as a memory and not a recounting. Maybe he was talking about art. A lot of people talk a lot about art, and some of them even know what they are talking about, but I can’t seem to really listen and understand it right then. It takes me an effort to do something wrong, rather than keep doing something wrong only to arrive at the juncture they are already standing at. My mind suddenly went to my office, the people there, and the work that needs to be done today. Oh, the thought train went, “I need to learn how to write a prose poem.” “I can do that at work.” “I don’t have a lot of work today anyway.” “What is it that I do have?” See how easy that was? Then I started thinking about what to do today, and then I started thinking about what I did yesterday, then I started thinking about some hypothetical situation arising between me and the people I work with. How they see me and how much they include me in whatever is going on directly impact how I see myself. I have become more confident, and the crippling self-doubt is now much smaller, but it remains. Like a bacterium - continuously growing and spreading, I learnt that bacterium is the singular of bacteria, isn’t that cool?