I meditate, I sit here, think about my day, my life, the day's happenings, the problems, the questions, the doubts, the fears, my wife, my kuttyson, all of this.....and wondering ...changing my perspective and thinking about my past.....it's happenings.......and about everybody's life.......the larger world....the mess, the maze, ......and then turn my mind upward......the skies....the cosmos....the whole universe.......space, light, fire, stars, galaxies, light years, and all that is happening in this enormous, unfathomable space.....all that has happened......all the change, all the movement.....all the stuff, ....and then try to connect myself with these cosmic happenings......am I supposed to be connected to all of that? .....the same stuff....somehow ! .? The same stuff is in me? Runs in me? Moves in me? Made of and from the same stuff ???!!! Mind blowing to imagine ...trying to connect my mind with all that space stuff....so far...so huge.....somehow so so alien !!! ....that my mind finds it unable to accept that there is even a vague link......when a part of my mind ..of me...feels that there has got to be more than just some vague distant link......surely some definite thread of cause and effect...of some cosmic reasoning.....some link between me and all the primal stuff !!!
Travel Literature "In Patagonia " Re-visited
--> Travel Literature " In Patagonia " Re-visited I am a lay reader and my writing is just as lay. To top it, I am an uncomfortable traveller. And this is my lay review of an unusual travel book by an unusual author. Whenever I read classic travel books I am humbled by the profound detachment these authors seem to have had, travelling alone to places remote and uninviting. I am humbled by the fact that I am not made of that supreme stuff to attempt such feats. One book that completely disorients me is "In Patagonia" by Bruce Chatwin. It was published in 1977 and it was instantly raved as a minor classic. It seems Bruce Chatwin left a message, "Gone to Patagonia", and abruptly left his job at the London Museum . He took off on a ridiculous journey of quest and came back with a minor classic as his debut into the literary world. "In Patagonia " defies any kind of genre classification. It could be called travel...
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