Last weekend, I had a blinding flash of light over a cosy dinner garnished with some intense conversation... and no the flare wasn't caused by an ominous case of stormy weather or faulty light bulbs firing up! I realised that I am apparently helplessly drawn to all things intense. This hit me with a bang while my host and I were having a seemingly innocuous conversation.
Misinterpreting the puzzled look which clouded my face (which usually means that I am pretty close to some Eureka-type moment of revelation!) my host asked me what was wrong. Briefly testing my intensity theory I deviously deflected the conversation on a subject which was sure to capture all his attention.
I put my thoughts on hold until the time when I would step into my car and drive – because that is when I think best. Once the meal was concluded with dessert and time came for me to part from my dining companion my mind eagerly revved to the intensity business. Thoughts and memories confirming my theories came in waves which ebbed and flowed to the tune of my diesel engine.
My reflections, during the twenty-minute drive home proved my theory. I cannot deal with bland apathy and blunt impartiality. They are as dead as dinosaurs and as boring as a hollow bark of a tree (an expression which reminds me of someone I once used to date! Don’t even try to get this one – it’s a joke between my favourite three people; me, myself and I! Just kidding…)
Then intensity slithered alongside my car, sliding over the dew on the badly-surfaced tarmac road. Intensity presented itself along with two cars speeding and overtaking each other behind me. I had to swerve violently to get out of the way of the crated-up cars, seemingly fresh out of the Fast and the Furious or perhaps even Gone in Sixty Seconds, seemingly racing each other without having much control of their cars’ progress on the by-pass.
So close to my heart is the need to feel intensity, which is really all about the energy of life in its purest form, that I have written this haiku. .
Intensity is a double-edged sword
When its frosty blade cuts you
It severs.
I think that the Zen Master would like that!
Now, on a more mundane note - can someone please explain to me why these tough rider wannabes think that speeding about the Maltese roads in the early hours of a humid morning is a good idea?
