cat hemingway in rain

Zugunruhe. At one time, I thought I understood that word, the meaning behind it. Yet this gathering we do is not the pull in oneapos;s chest to be somewhere, at sometime; the force of nature telling us as a species to come together. Instead like breed stock or zoo animals we are amassed, the routine of ordinary life thrown casually to us like a bone to a dog, breaking those patterns which pulled us to their conclusion. We wake up in our beds, blinking, wondering where we are; not so different from that moment in-between deep early morning sleep and true wakefulness. What sort of challenges will we face in the world outside our door? What sort of benefits?

Education. Home. Food. Perhaps it is these which are intended to gain our trust when given so freely. Nonetheless there are other moments of generosity, less obvious. A quiet moment with oneapos;s family. A chance to speak with someone you thought long dead. The tools required to do something great, that opportunity to rise up and seize the moment which travels with us from life to life, from world to world, wherever we may be. Whether this place is true refuge or merely the eye of the storm is yet to be seen, but I think for now I will trust to it.

Iapos;m sorry to soliloquize; I am, perhaps, more used to keeping a private journal. Greetings to you all. My name is Mohinder Suresh; I have been here for some time, yet you will excuse me if I continue to keep to my room, for now.
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