An Arrow and a Longing

One cannot step into the same river twice; that much is clear to me. The connotations of that phrase, however, are multifold. Heraclitus was referring to the constant state of flux that the world is subjected to. That, of course, also applies to our psyche. The reason we can never go back to the same place again is because our dispositions change. It is thus that I find myself repeating like a mantra: “I cannot go back, only forward. I am an Arrow and a Longing.”

Seasons

Living close to the Equator means I no longer get to experience the change of seasons. People here will tell you that there is a "rainy" season and a "sunny" season, but the truth is, it might rain one day and then be sunny the next day. There does not seem to be a clear pattern in the weather that might allow one to identify a change of seasons.

I sometimes dream about snow. In my dreams, I walk through the snow covered fields, lost in the all consuming whiteness. I've always loved the way everything seems to move in slow motion during winter. There's a certain silence that accompanies snow that I have always been attracted to. And then there are those winter nights when the sky turns slightly pink; it's fantastic. Snow also has an amazing power to make all things beautiful: when everything is covered by snow, everything becomes equal, equally beautiful.

Yet, my favorite season has got to be fall. In my opinion, it is the most sensual of all the Seasons: you can't walk don the street without being subjected to the stimuli produced by the sound of crushed leafs. Nothing beats the sensation of crushing dry leafs. During the fall, I always walk near the edge of the street, because that's where all the leafs pile up.

Spring, on the other hand, has got to be my least favorite of all. In this respect, I agree with TS Eliot: April is the cruelest month. When the ice starts to melt, all the dirt and ugliness that the snow had covered begins to reappear. Besides, I get allergies.

As to summer, well, summer is great, particularly because of the effect it has on people. It seems summer strips people away from all their inhibitions. Girls get to wear skirts, which is always a good thing, and I get to wear sandals, which makes me a happy guy.

I imagine the absence of Seasons must be simmilar to being on Prozac: everything is predictable, there are no highs and lows, no changes; and so, everything becomes boring.

I need a change of weather.