Stilling. 5 June 2014.


SOMEWHERE, we just have to sit still. 

It is the called the stilling of the wayward spirit of the pilgrim, the peregrine, the voyager, the vagabond, the wayfarer, the traveller. 

Four months of going away, of having no cares for the world except to care for the world, is something. 

It is an academic's luxury, this, this sabbatical that can go on and on, but only for some time. 

There is a limit to the wayward spirit.

Somewhere, the spirit must sit still, and think through of what it has gone through, seen, felt, experienced.  The spirit cannot go on and on, and in life, can keep going everywhere without going anywhere. 

There is no everywhere even in that plenipotentiary declaration of freedom from the classroom, from preparing lessons, from writing essays, from running around with scissors and without with one's thoughts. 

So here, in this not-everywhere vagaries of life, one must go back to where he comes from, and there, sit, and sit still, and write, and write up. 

If one can.

If one has shaken off the jet lag that goes with the memory of having gone away for four months, all in the name of getting that experience to go away and go where the spirit leads, where the winds go, where the land on your feet shows where the road leads to that which surprises and delights you no end. 

I have gained a lot from these four months of being away from the humdrum of the day-to-day academic life, the rigor of imparting what one knows, and the challenge of advocating for lost causes. 

And now, it is time to be still, sit, and sit down.

And write, if can. 


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