I chanced upon these dragonflies mating amongst the water lilies.
From all indications, dragonflies are not monogamous. Such an acrobatic effort for a transient relationship.
Reminds me of the song “Sleeps with Butterflies” by Tori Amos. Here’s a stanza.
I don’t hold on
To the tail of your kite
I’m not like the girls that you’ve known
But I believe I’m worth coming home to
Kiss away night
This girl only sleeps with butterflies
So go on and fly then boy
I guess it also applies to dragonflies.
In a previous post I described the Future World exhibit at the Art and Science Museum.
Its centerpiece is the “Universe of Water Particles” – a seven-meter virtual waterfall. It is serenely beautiful, hundreds of thousands of water particles cascading gracefully down a virtual rock, following the laws of physics. And with a backpacker’s silhouette, it’s picture-perfect.
But I miss the mist, the unpredictable gust of wetness on my face as the wind blows the water away from its normal free fall. I miss the rustling of the leaves and the way my feet slide on the slippery banks. I miss the smell of decaying trees along the river, and the greenness of young shoots rushing to rise above the rocks and catch the sun.
I like my waterfall to be raw, with the water falling down in complete abandon, daring to defy the laws of physics.
I want nature’s embrace to be sensual. I want to feel its wetness.
In an imaginary life, everyday is like this.
Escapism? One can hardly fault anyone for indulging in some escapism. Check out the recent popularity of superheroes in movies where they somehow save the day, or fantasies such as Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter where the good eventually triumphs over evil, or science fiction where the future gets secured in galaxies far away.
Maybe there’s a lot of reasons for wanting to escape reality in today’s world, but I won’t get into that All I know is that some dose of “mindful escapism” — including hobbies, sports, photography and (cough, for some) blogging — is good for our mental health.
And when we “escape” with friends and create happy memories with them then it’s one way to bring the good from the imaginary into reality. And maybe that can make this world a little better and there would be fewer reasons to escape from it.
(Photo taken at the foot of Mt. Makiling, an extinct volcano on the island of Luzon in the Philippines.)
I make movies in my mind, or sometimes they write themselves in my sleep.
In one movie I see you smiling, coming into the bedroom as I wake up. I tell you about some plans for the day and you laugh. You pick up a towel and glance at me as you step into the shower.
In another movie you gaze into the distance as I rest my head on your shoulder, your arm around me, both of us not speaking a word. I think about the future while wondering if you were thinking about it too.
And then the light hits my eyes and the movies begin to fade.
I choose to linger in the fog, to make the movies keep playing, because then the world looks like a garden in the mist. Because then distance and time disappear.
Because then you are closer to me.
quickly fading light
I always seem to catch
last surf of the day
El Nido is a “managed resource protected area” in the province of Palawan in the Philippines. It is 420 kilometers or about an hour’s plane ride from Manila.
It has 45 islands and islets, each one a quiet corner to get unmoored from the hustle and bustle of city life.
One can while away the day on a boat, not to go adrift, but perhaps get back one’s bearings.
Or, when the day is done, simply enjoy the sunset, in a place where no one is in a hurry, not even the sea turtles that come to lay their eggs on the shore.
The day is long, as it should be, because when the days are long, then life is long too.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date
– William Shakespeare, Sonnet XVIII
Taking a breather from the daily rigors, even if only to appreciate the darling buds of May.