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it is sometimes funny what the brain chooses to remember. i would imagine it is quite normal that you remember better the significant moment of your existence, be it good or bad, or that it is sometimes difficult to trace back the details of the times when you were doing not so great. this i find to be completely logical, and i have no difficulties in understanding why the organ in our heads works that way.


what i do sometimes wonder, however, are those single, seemingly insignificant fragments of existence that have left a mark in the matter that is your memory. i have a vast reservoir of these, as i would imagine everybody else does; fleeting moments with no real context or depth, just flickers of past that bear no obvious importance. and yet they can be so vivid -- you remember exactly how the floor felt under your feet, how the sun shone on the wall; how you felt, what you thought, and who you were.  when the inability to tie these specks of memories to anything that really matters presents itself, you are forced to ask yourself whether this is really so; can there be a reason for these moments to continue their existence after all? maybe a one you are not aware of yet?


a bit far fetched, i admit -- probably the truth of the matter is that it is purely random. whatever the reason is, i am glad that these memory pockets exist -- they allow me a glimpse of how things were and enable the comparison to how things are. it is almost like having yourself in two places at the same -- a dialogue of sorts, with yourself.

not enough/ too much

where is the difference between accepting and giving up?

wanting things out of your reach tends to make you unhappy and direct your attention away from the things you have; on the other hand, not pushing yourself towards a goal means you don't fully utilize your potential. but where does the line go? 

how hard do you have to try? how much should you want? when to accept that you will not excel without it being giving up just tad too early?

All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing... and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?

Antonio Salieri in Amadeus (Milos Forman, 1984)

lazy/ old

my attitude towards running on a treadmill varies. i used to not do it at all -- in my early 20s i ran outside no matter what the weather was like-- minus 25 degrees, bring it on, i didn't really mind. i even had running shoes with metal studs, and i have to admit i did get a feeling of glee from being able to run on pure ice without any fear of falling. 


then something happened and i realized there is the possibility of running indoors as well. so when the cold weather hit i switched to a treadmill, and i liked it to an extent -- sure, it's a bit dull, but also in many ways much more comfortable. you can even stare at a tv. later, when living  abroad, especially in budapest, i at times even preferred treadmill to running outside regardless of weather -- this was partly because there wasn't that great options in terms of running routes outdoors. therefore the choice was made based on what was practical, not what i necessarily preferred.


these days i go for the treadmill most often if the weather is nasty. i much more enjoy running outside -- it has more sensitivity in it, and it feels more relaxed and even efficient. i enjoy the emptiness of the streets and experiencing the awakening of the day. running on a treadmill is a little bit brutal, or mechanical if you will; and yet i find  myself there quite often these days. so now, when i have the option of running outside on a nice route and don't do it because of whatever reason, it makes me think -- when i look back to the mentality i had about 10 years ago when i didn't really even look to see what the weather was like and now i'm deterred by a small snowstorm -- i guess this is what becoming old is like.

now

waking up begins with saying am  and now. that which has awoken then lies for a while staring up at the ceiling and down into itself until it has recognized i, and therefrom deduced  i am, i am now. here comes next, and is at least negatively reassuring; because here, this morning, is where it had expected to find itself; what's called at home.


but now isn't simply now. now is also a cold reminder; one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. every now is labelled with its date, rendering all past nows obsolete, until -- later or sooner -- perhaps -- no, not perhaps -- quite certainly; it will come.


george isherwood: a single man

let it snow -- not

snow in this country is inevitable.but it doesn't mean i have to like it.


sure, it's lighter now. i admit it can make the landscape look pretty, sometimes. 


but it also makes running (and even walking) more difficult, especially if the streets haven't been cleaned. it goes into your shoes and wets your feet. it hides all kinds of things -- like ice -- which you will then find out about in a more inconvenient way (by slipping and smashing your face). and even if i just said it can make things look nicer, well, the piles of dirty plough snow aren't really all that appealing to look at. and when it finally, after what seems like a lifetime , starts to melt -- by then the latest it becomes clear to everyone why it would have been better if it had never snowed in the first place. slush everywhere, and i mean everywhere.


an option springs to mind.


LEAVE.

this is my truth, tell me yours

being in the right is a funny thing.


you know when you are right - you just do. it is an extremely strong feeling, a one that justifies almost anything; it can also lead to distress, annoyance and frustration if your fellow human beings fail to understand how right you are. being right empowers you; it gives you permission to do things you otherwise necessary wouldn't and say things you in other situation would not utter out loud. it makes it easy to dismiss differing opinions -- well obviously, they are either plain wrong or not just thought through -- and possibly even consider people expressing them slightly stupid, or at least not well informed.


and if it, god forbids, sometimes happens that we are actually proven wrong in a way we can't deny  -- never mind that, the mind has a way of explaining it the best way around. we might even admit we were wrong, but somewhere in the back of our heads remains the feeling of being robbed of something -- the feeling of being right. how strong this reaction is depends largely, i would imagine, on the level of personal pride of the individual, and how willing they are to agree that "my way or the highway" is not always the best policy to go with. this will then partly define future actions, opinions and inclinations.


and yet being right is a fallacy, constructed on our view of the world, our personalities, experiences, our perceptions and interpretations of those perceptions; and these are never complete. never. if i'm honest, being right frightens me a bit. when you say you are right, you close something in your mind -- a door, let's say -- and when doing that you both lock yourself in and others out.


because everybody, all around, at least most of the time, is right. 


and being right  has nothing to do with truth.

slippery slope

forget expensive extreme sports. you can get the adrenaline rush by running on icy streets on a dark hour. oh the feeling of danger when you don't know if your next step will hold or not! talking about living on the edge.


joking aside, it does improve one's reaction speed when you realize mid-step that there is no friction under your foot.  


but it is rather annoying as well. 


i didn't fall on my ass this morning but it would appear that if i intend to keep it like that, i have to switch to the treadmill -- at least until the temperature either rises above zero again or it snows so that that sneaky black ice is properly covered.


sigh. 

snow piece

think that snow is falling. think that snow is falling
everywhere all the time. when you talk with a person, think
that snow is falling between you and on the person.
stop conversing when you think the person is covered by snow.

Yoko Ono, 1963

elusion

lately he had noticed that the concept of time, or rather, his comprehension of it, seemed to evade him. moments that he had previously passed unnoticed now seemed to drag on forever -- standing in the street lights listening to the steady beeps signalling of the red light would last forever; just like the evenings with his wife would pass in a single heartbeat and in the next morning he had to struggle to remember what they had talked about and whether they had made love.

you get what you need

i woke up today at quarter past five and arrived to the office at quarter past nine. in between i did a 1,5 hr ashtanga practice and ran 10 km; it is genuinely very difficult for me to think of a better start for a day. granted,  i wouldn't mind sleeping a bit longer and running outside instead of on a treadmill would obviously be a preference, but hey -- you can't have everything.

2012

december 2011: 277,5km


happy new year.