On Reason & Passion

On Reason and Passion
 Kahlil Gibran

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house.
Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.

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On Joy & Sorrow

On Joy and Sorrow
 Kahlil Gibran

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Kamilah, Kahlil's mother
Kamilah, Kahlil’s mother. Painting by Kahlil Gibran


Murmuration  = a flock of starlings.

Here’s why they are so special.


I got this video from Castorgirl at http://www.scatteredpieces.org, a blog I found at Alice’s http://whatshappenedtoalice.blogspot.com whom I discovered at http://wordsfallfrommyeyes.wordpress.com. Lot’s of finding, right? Welcome to the Blogosphere.

Well, I thought I’d share. One simply can’t keep something like this to oneself. It’s just so beautiful, nature is. It’s beautiful, it’s calming, it renders me speechless sometimes. I want to watch this video over and over again, and just sit and gaze and get lost in the starlings’ magic.


Signature - Kat

Wandering Wonderer

I haven’t written in a long time. A week only, yes, but for me that’s unreasonably long. Usually, I may go a day or two without writing and then, some days, I will find myself posting two, three new posts at once. I have concluded it must have something to do with how my mind wanders from tree top to tree top, making occasional stops in valleys and along slopes.

I’ve been under some duress that somehow inhibited the usual flow of words from my brain through to my finger tips and finally onto my pages, here. When that happens I usually find myself with several drafts, half-stories, that end up staying in the drafts folder until my spirits are up again, high enough to feel up to some interaction. And even then, my mind still wanders. And wonders. And wanders.

Take for example, this morning as I prepared for my morning shower, some excerpts.

There wasn’t much hot water in there last night, I better switch on that heater. In the meantime I’ll brush my teeth.Wait, why don’t I first do my facial wash routine? As I brush, the facial wash will be doing it’s magic then I can wash it off later. Yeah, of course, as usual.

I’ve got to go to the drug authority today, then call those pharmacy managers, then… what else?

You know, what if there’s a power cut later today, perhaps I should leave the heater on a little longer, that way there will be enough hot water even after I shower. I should get back to my blog, have lots to write about. I should take the laptop out and power it, such that when I’m done here it’ll be good and ready and off we shall go writing. 

I finish brushing, put up my toothbrush and walk out of the bathroom, head to the bedroom to pick the said laptop. Inside, a song is playing on the radio. Reggae tone, dance-hall beats. These guys are wailing about the cunning of today’s city girl. Tough love, it’s a tough city. Everyone’s scheming. What, you couldn’t beat them so you joined them? Great move, Mr. Musician. Enter yours truly.

Wooh! I really love this song!

I start dancing.

Their song doesn’t have much lyrical value but I have to agree that the storyline is quite funny. I just love these beats! My God, I haven’t really danced in a long time. Not even at Grace’s party. Still mad about that, I threw that do, THAT was my big chance to dance like crazy! Well, there is always next time. There is also NOW.  Continue reading