Tag: autumn

  • The Tango

    The Tango

    There’s something wonderfully fascinating about trees that draws me in. And keeps me there.
    Something mysterious, yet oddly familiar.

    Their immobility, but through the will of nature’s elements.
    Their submissiveness and flexibility, yet strong rooted resolve.

    Their self-sacrificing nature, always sheltering, shading, protecting.
    Their power of renewal, through a never-ending cycle of the seasons.

    Their beauty, as full and diverse as nature itself.
    And colors, ranging from the deepest blues to the highest yellows.

    It is in the autumn, at the bottom of another rhythm, that they seduce me most.
    A tango between light and hue, a dazzling spectacle to behold.

    Capturing my soul, and not letting go.
    There are stories yet to be told.

  • When You Were Loved

    When every dream
    has turned to dust,
    and your highest hopes
    no longer soar.

    When places you
    once yearned to see,
    grow further away
    on distant shores.

    When every night
    you close your eyes,
    and long inside
    for something more.

    Remember this
    and only this,
    if nothing else
    you can recall—

    There was a life
    a girl once led,
    where you were loved
    the most of all.

    – Text from “When”,  in Lullabies, by Lang Leav

  • En Route to Gaustatoppen

    Gaustatoppen, considered by many to be the most beautiful mountain in Norway, towers above the town of Rjukan at an altitude of 1883 meters (6178 feet). The views from the top, as well as along the route, are stunning, and on a clear day, hikers can see one sixth of Norway from the summit!

    The mountain is a popular destination for Norwegians, something I got to experience a few weeks ago. There was a constant stream of people all along the route. So many that there was a queue.

    Many parents had brought their children along, the youngest ones walking, only three or four years old. Many of the children were crying and begging their parents to be carried, or simply refusing to go on. Most of the parents were ignoring their cries and telling them to keep going. This is something they simply had to do, and crying or yelling would definitely not help!

    So en route to the summit of Gaustatoppen, with a backdrop of majestic Norwegian mountains, I got to witness the meticulous efforts of some parents to transfer what they believe to be core Norwegian values to the next generation. It was interesting to see how parents will always choose what they think is best for their children, no matter how much the little ones oppose.

  • Sunday Blues

    The last time I visited this place, was fourteen years ago, almost to the date. Standing here by the edge of the river again, nothing seems to have changed. The trees, the rocks, the water, even the shrubs, they all look the same. The sound of running water and the wind rustling the leaves. The chill of the autumn air on a clear Sunday afternoon. The spruces standing guard along the far side of the river. It all seems exactly how it was, all those years ago, just like yesterday.

    Fourteen long years of my life. So much has happened, and so many things have changed. Relocations domestic and abroad, children growing up, me getting older. Sadness, happiness, and sadness. High ambitions, hard work, and lucky accomplishments. Battles fought and victories celebrated. Disappointments small and big. Contentment, and realizations of the realities of life. Some people leaving, some entering, and then leaving again. Increasing distances between hearts as well as minds. Long awaited hellos, and sad goodbyes across vast oceans and layers upon layers of space and time.

    It is strange, almost unreal, to think that fourteen years have passed. For me, it feels like a lifetime. For the river, it must be like the time it takes a tear to roll down a cheek. For the wind, a whisper in its ear. The trees have grown older, but all these years are but a short moment in their lifetime of never ending cycles of the seasons. For the rocks, I am not sure it would even register on their clock, as it must be a speck of time in their eternal life among the stars.

    Standing by the water, reflecting, contemplating the passing of time, I realize that life will move on, and continue to change. It is inevitable. A fact. Until that last big change. Until then, it seems, I will keep my Sunday blues.

  • Sad Things

    Why do you write sad things? he asked. When I am here, when I love you.

    Because someday, in one way or another, you will be taken from me or I you. It is inevitable. But please understand; from the moment I met you, I stopped writing for the past. I no longer write for the present. When I write sad things, I am writing for the future.

    – Text from Lullabies, by Lang Leav

  • Passing Time

    I feel the end is drawing near,
    would time be so kind to slow?
    You are everything to me, my dear,
    you are all I really know.

    But as I sit and wait and fear
    and watch the hours go—

    Everything that happened here
    happened long ago.

    – Lullabies, by Lang Leav