Platitudes

Back from Bhutan, the oft-proclaimed land of happiness, and everything here appears frivolous. I don’t feel like doing anything. Some messages are ringing on the phone, but they are a summation of frivolities, and I hardly wish to bother with them. And yet, I must; for life here is instruction upon instruction, and would one rebel against the instruction, he would quickly lose his place in society.

What is it about the Bhutanese people that gives constantly them to insouciance? Proposition: Life there is simple; there is a lack of luxuries, and opulence receives little attention; they are not subservient to material; they practice all the finest values, which make living so agreeable; they respect the natural order and all forms of sentience; they have the tranquillity of the mountains and rivers with which to soothe their minds; they live with a very certain, divine aim in life; they… In essence, life there is simple.

I can’t decide if I want to move forward or if I want to move backward. Ahead of me is a devilishly uncertain climb. Behind me is nothing; barren lands stretching eternally, and as before, I shall be amongst the dust. Wherefore does the will direct? It is caught in between reason and passion. Reason stifles its progression – perhaps for good use – whereas passion plunges it forward without a care for capricious contingencies.

My heart is trembling at the moment. Of what is the cause, I cannot say. For speaking it shall raise suspicions that would take an eternity to subjugate. My heart is trembling quicker and quicker and quicker – I need only to stop thinking and considering the possibilities before me, and it shall stop trembling. But the certain thought fills my mind; there is left no crevice in which I can hide and stop my heart from trembling. Shall I wait till it stops trembling before taking the next step? Oh, the infinite quarry that lies before me!

There’s a traditional spread-fan lying on my table, wrapped up neatly in decorated plastic. I don’t know why it is there or who it is for. It’s black in colour. While I would like to open it up and see what picture is drawn on its surface, I refuse to; because it is still in its plastic wrapper.

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