A Variety of Intensities

It's been a while. Hello. I've missed you. Like an old friend here you are again. That familiar feeling of unraveling into the blank-- a soft parachute of music and a bliss that comes from the direction-less-drift murmuring in the darkness...

We've been living in our place for a month in a few days; it feels like home. This is good. This is fine. It is right. It works. We have a great view. Take a look:

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepidteacher 

 No really,  it is really sweet:

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepidteacher

I have taken the Bedok Reservoir under my wing and am using her as my latest muse. I watch her ripple and move, reflect the sun and shine. She, although a man-made puddle, absorbs my need for nature and reminds me that we live on a planet made of water. I watch clouds amble across her face, sometimes stopping for nutriment, other times dropping a storm. The trees on her banks sometimes ink-like at other times verdant candles. She's good to me.

Before you are too envious, let me tell you about the other one--her cranky, loud and much more boisterous sister: The Site. Yes, if you move a few feet outside the frame you see this:

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepidteacher

 

A different beast to be sure. Loud and insistent, she's a hive of activity, a state of calm panic--she's my contradiction, my balance.

Anyone can become a monk at a monastery. Hyperbolic? Ok fine you are right, not anybody, but you must admit it is easier to find peace, nirvana, whatever you want to call it, at a place where you sip organic green teas and are greeting with a compassionate Namaste and gentle nod at every turn.

Try tuning into the sounds of hammers and diggers and cranes and metal and concrete and progress under your nose. Try watching men sweat and toil and build and become insects in front of your eyes and see where your mind goes. It is a much more interesting experience I assure you. 

My view is a daily reminder to me of balance and humility, both in the face of tender nature and a more brutal humanity. Of course it would be nice to stare off into the azure horizon and enjoy the water in silence, but I'm training myself to fully appreciate the The Site just as much as the reservoir. I stare and think and search. I create beauty in what I see. What I feel. How I think.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepidteacher

 

I am reminded that life is rarely perfect and that expectations toward any sense of perfection, or of how things could be, should be, would be if...lead to disappointment and pain. Peace comes from the ability to be aware of reality and accept it. Modify it. Sculpt it. Absorb it. Love it, no matter what the look or the sound. The Site is my reminder that reality is built from the ground on-up-on the backs of  proud dark men from the Indian sub-continent. Our world of air conditioners and luxurious sexy Apple products is rooted in dust and labor and fear and broken dreams. It is important to be rooted in reality when you are living on the fourteenth floor.

But remember, dear reader,  my porch is a place of balance, so before you suggest I take a leap from her loving arms, look across the water and breath in the slow moving clouds. Watch the sun exploding several times a time in a variety of intensities.

This is the life I have stumbled into. Why I am standing on the porch watching, and not back-broken and building is not for me to answer. All I can do is live my life with as much awareness as I can and share the stories I see.

People often say we have a great view. They are right! I hope to capture more of my space in sound and music and video and more, but in the meantime you can follow the pictures at this set on Flickr. 

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepidteacher