THINKING SPACE 318
THINKING SPACE 318
Readings, Discussions and Musings on Philosophy, Arts and more...
Welcome to Room 318 where colleagues, readers and friends meet to read, discuss and share their ideas and works, projects and activities.
Where we share inspired works which help to “open spaces of possibility for one’s own thought”. MacKendrick (2001)
The thoughts presented here are meant as an offer of Silence, Absence and Time...
a space for the possibility of thought and reflection.
(The opinions expressed and statement contained in this website do not necessarily reflect the views of the University of Malta)
Mitt Ħarruba, U Waħda
Mitt ħarruba,
Jibdew b’ waħda,
U disgħa u disgħin xewqa.
Iżda ix-xewqa għas-sigar, hija iżjed minn xewqa,
Mitt ħarruba hija ħolma, iżjed minn xewqa.
Mela:
Mitt Ħarruba, U Waħda
Mitt ħarruba,
Jibdew b’waħda,
U disgħa u disgħin ħolma.
One Hundred and One Carob Trees
One hundred carob trees,
Start with One,
And ninety-nine wishes.
But the wish for trees, is more than a wish.
More than a wish, a hundred carob trees, is a dream.
So:
One hundred and One Carob Trees
One hundred carob trees,
Start with One,
And ninety-nine dreams.
ALARM CLOCK
The Ticking Inside
I’ve always had this instinct for knowing when to go. It’s like an alarm clock ticking in my head. Most of the time I am unware of its presence, but at times its ticking emerges from the background noise, faintly at first, but gradually increasing in volume and urgency. Until it rings. And when it rings I know I have to go. Usually when this happens I would have only a vague idea as to why I have to leave. If one presses me for the reasons or argues about the wisdom of my decision, I am usually stuck for a clear answer. It is not a rational decision, like most instincts it works at a different level. I leave first, then ask questions later, or not.
The only justification I may have to offer is that so far, every time the alarm went off, I have always later realised that leaving was in fact the best decision and that staying would have been disastrous.
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It Could have been...
Within seconds of the start of our taxi ride out of the airport, we were both convinced that our plan to rent a motorbike and tour the country was foolish to say the least. It was not just the sheer congestion of traffic that was frightening, Besides the utter chaos, drivers had to contend with roads which were actually small patches of paving which interrupted the mud ruts and sandpits, and the fact that all this kicked up a dust storm which reduced visibility to no more than five or six metres at the most. At that point we conceded that if we were going to do any riding it would only be in daylight – riding at night in these conditions would be suicide.
The next day we could still have changed our plan when the rental bike shop did not have the bike we actually booked and planned to ride, and offered us instead an inferior and far from ideal model. At that point it would have made perfect sense to opt for the relative comfort and safety of one of the available jeeps instead.
We should definitely have settled for the 4 wheel option when, on returning to the bike shop the next day, having been promised that the bike we wanted would be serviced and ready for us to start our planned trip, we arrived to find the bike dismantled and two mechanics arguing about why it wouldn’t start.
It would have made much more sense to give up when I finally tried to ride the loaded bike out of the driveway, only to find that it swayed and wobbled almost uncontrollably.
And it was completely irresponsible of us not to return to the shop when just 2 kilometres into our trip the back drum brake overheated, seized up, and nearly set our luggage on fire.
But we let it cool down and after some improvised adjustments we decided that having gone through so much to actually drive those two kilometres, it may just about be worth driving one or two kilometers further and see what happens before driving back to the shop.
And those two kilometres further turned into hundreds, and we had the most amazing motorcycle tour we could have ever imagined.
ON YOUR FORTIETH
40 rhymes with many things
Like super sex and Jar Jar Binks
But most of all
And most forgotten
40 hurts and
40’s rotten.