*a note on the title
Eight months - it'd been over eight months since my last post. I certainly wasn't lacking possible blog material, between the feisty monkeys of Kathmandu, the chilling drizzle of Bremen, the antics of my too-cute nephew, and the tourist-infested DC metro leading up to the presidential inauguration.... So why the long silence? Or should the question be why interrupt that silence now? ...or should I not bother questioning either? Huh.
The fact that there was a vague response to yesterday's post got me thinking (both in terms of a few comments kindly tossed my way and in terms the unavoidable viewer count). More to the point, Blogger's informing me of which posts had been viewed is what further got me thinking. For instance, somewhere in the world yesterday, someone stumbled on to this little blast from the past, and this one too. How'd they end up there? I'll add regarding that first one, by the bye, that I am by now a frequent user of my very own yoga mat, though I still don't partake in the non-judging of muscle kinks at the end of the session. Odd.
But I digress. Eight months is a fair bit of time. It's been far longer since I last wrote, read, or thought about those aforementioned posts, which made re-reading them now an interesting little exercise in recall and self-analysis. Heh... Thus my pausing to ask myself what happened - kya hua? Anything? Maybe it isn't entirely coincidental that that last July post sounds so much like a potential goodbye. Or again, should the question rather be why now, aside from the inspirational "shizzy" remark of the great and powerful Oz mentioned yesterday?
So many questions, always so many questions. The minute these ones came to mind, though, as I sat cross-legged with my right hand well-curried in the midst of breakfast chai and roti, my thoughts immediately went from blogging to people. Is there some breaking point in our conversations? Can or should it happen, or be allowed to happen, that at some point there's just too much to say? We fall silent, with little idea of where to go from here. Be it a new acquaintance, an old and dear one, a conflicted one... the deafening silence of it all. It can be enough to make you laugh or cry, want to hit someone or hug them all at the same time, search your brain for what to say or run off and maintain the silence as it is; it's easier that way. ...Isn't it?
Don't get me wrong, I love silence. If there's an empty roof or balcony nearby and I go missing, it's likely because I've gone off to occupy it. A cockroach pulled me out of my reverie on the hostel rooftop earlier this week, but I press on! Still, these questions are there, even in that deafening silence. But for now... for now, it's nice to see you again.
*"Debajo de mi lengua," or, directly translated, "under my tongue," is a favorite of mine by Julieta Venegas. Debajo de mi lengua se escondan las palabras... se esconderan mis miedos... etc. Here's a rough translation of the lyrics for ya.