decrescendo a niente, shadow of green man.


today is the first day i feel the quiet resonance of yuletide this year- winter solstice in my heart.  may be ive been too busy and insensitive. may be life has been too full of momentum. perhaps i needed the maddening active energy to realize the diametric opposite- energy in its most complete potential state.  could it be that i needed the busy bright, artificial bustle of the 'christmas holiday seasons cheer' to realize the existence of the yuletide- the time of midwinter silence?

yuletide is a very special time for me- the cusp of life and death. in midst of quiet silence, where frozen earth no longer gives us her bounties- her breasts bare and dry, she cradles the seeds and hopes of tomorrow. the little seeds, dreaming of life.  little wee lambs in mom's womb, just speckles, yet real, quietly growing in the trance of life.  what lives shall die. what dies shall let the new life inherit the earth.  janus, the mighty green man, is only a thought in the depth of the earth- oh how he will rule the earth with bursting virility by the spring equinox!


i am en route to the hills in 22 long and short days.

days will be different.
nights will be different.


away from long blurred day-night of bustling city of 24 hours lit brightly with artificial sun, i will retreat to a small basket in the nook of the gentle hills, where true darkness do exists, and the night silence will be broken only by the quiet, steady running trains, coming and going, as they always have, and they always will.

away from the instant convenience of light switches and elevators that takes me to 32nd floor, i will be watching the glowing amber of the fireplace die out, perched on resonating heat from coals and wood- lives that has long passed, telling the stories of their lives, gone, true and ancient.

yuletide promises us a christian gift of innocent man. a man who is earmarked for death, not of his sins, but of a bizarre contract to save us all.  a king of man who must die in shame, the diametrical opposite of heroes.  from the beginning, a child of a virgin, he wears the mark of indiginity.  how quaint and eloquent.  he, also is only a small idea in the virgin womb.  mess of flesh, bones and undefined bits of life.

somehow, for no apparent reason, all these thoughts pierces my heart. a cold-hot thought, much like the anaesthetic needles of the dentist office- enough for me to stop in mid-step, to let out an audible sigh, a grunt.  it hurts. however, i am lucky that that life can be so rich.  from nothing in particular. from the gift of times that goes beyond my own life. of tradition, of lives told and untold, of humbleness, silence and of the meek- with hope of towering power and torrent of life force, though quiet, at this moment. dream, a seed of a green man.

bidding you a beautiful night, everyone.
wishing you the time and space, so that you may see the beauty of the times coming, of sacrifice, death and stasis- only to allow continuation of this weird flow of time, life.


birthday gift for a practicing man from practicing monkey

my life is often full of last-minute things. sometimes, only thing that's left afterward is singed self with hint of sanity; however, once in a while, the event fills me up, recharges, enabling me to look at the world afresh, with gratitude.

at the faculty, we have many amazing profs; prof nimmons is a person who i have been looking up for-ever, since i came to faculty.  his drive, wild personality (loads of cheeks i must say) and dedication for self-improvement, especially, i find inspiring.  at the ripe age of nine-ty, he still practices every morning. because he wants to get better.


often, when this little monkey feels like jacking around and do nothing, i think of prof. nimmons. gets the shoes on. and marches (if somewhat reluctantly) to the work bench.

this year, he turned nine-ty.  actual b day was in june (we share the same birthday! this made me squack with joy for some reason. may be i can share hint of his genius and drive, haha.  i would believe anything if that gives me hope, i suppose. augury, anyone?), and the bday concert was scheduled for just past thursday.  i was to do backstage and was all hyped to see this event, star-studded performers filling out the programme (juno winners, order of canada recipients, geniuses etc)

came a short comet question from ignitor:
'someone dropped off the prog; can you do it?'
'what, like next week?'
'surely, you can? '
'lemme see?'

i didnt know but prof nimmons also had whole whack of written out music ('classical' compositions).  his late lady was a great pianist and as they were both studying as students, he wrote many things, with her in mind.  i remember the time when she passed away. his shadow was tinted with much sorrow...

the music looked difficult enough though. haha. naturally.

however. this was not about me. this is not about the compositions either.  this was about prof nimmons reflecting, presenting and thanking people in his life- ninety years of richness that touched countless people.  a proper celebration.

right. put that ego aside, monkey. dont be so silly.

i agreed. and put my butts to work. and played.
did it go okay? it's always okay, thankfully.

but it wasnt about me 'delivering' the work, i thought. it is a chance to express my admiration for him (building up to this point, after years and years of observation), and having a chance to be part of the world to express (our) gratitude for phil nimmons' contribution to our lives.


he was pleased.
ignitor was pleased.
many people said such nice things.
i was- somewhat apprehensive (why did some 'things' happen in performance? how did it get there? what can i do to fix that?), bit surprised (so many 'spontaneous' events! haha! my own performance should not have that much surprises for self...), hopeful (may be next time, it WILL be better?) and most importantly-


if im a small tool that was part of this larger composite image of a great man, and i managed (thank the lord) to express part of him, of the stories of the audiences (that resonated somewhere in their hearts) and of me (all those feeling that woke from the depth of days of my own life), then what could i possibly want more?

haha, may be to execute it better.

and that's what drives prof nimmons to practice at his age. i suppose it's only natural to want to be better!  so with grace echoing from the event, i embark on a new stack of things... only to see the glimpse of beauty. now, to chase after it.  life can be wonderful.  being able to grow is wonderful.


i will play better on your 95th! i swear!