Outside of Anna Torv, no one should take greater acclaim than John Noble, who plays Dr. Walter Bishop. I am tempted to write what makes Fringe an altogether brilliant series, but I shall reserve that for a later time. [Preamble: end]
"Two things cannot occupy the same space without dire consequences." - Dr. Walter Bishop
[A hiatus to writing has its repercussions. This blog has collected its share of spam comments. A dated design template. And of course, there is the rusty writing.]
It might be criminal to not fully divulge the context of said quote, but I'm doing it anyway since the quote describes something elementary in everyday life: an aphorism. Two things cannot occupy the same space. Go ask anyone taking the MRT regularly to go to work. "Dire consequences" may not have been pushed to its violent limits inside the train, but it is still evident. Two things, in this case "persons", cannot occupy the same space no matter how hard they try. Again, the violence may not always be there. But the consequences of the attempt for two persons to occupy the same space are not at all pleasant. My present observation will not be with the terrible MRT situation and the current controversy surrounding it. I have very little stake with the issue at the moment. Blessed are those who are not using the MRT on a regular basis.
It is not surprising that the most to suffer in my disciplines when the going gets tough, work-wise, is reading/writing. Personally I find the exercise, of reading and of writing, inextricably linked: the one does not happen when the other is absent. I read, then I write. I write, so I read. However, there is no excuse. Never starting anything will always result in nothing.
Both are such patient disciplines. It commands that everything halt, and that all senses should engage. The modern marvel of multi-tasking does not mesh well with the ancient art of reading. I even find music to be distracting. Presently, work commands every single moment, all senses, and once exhausted nothing is left. I had delusions of reading after work, and it is just that: a delusion. Ah! shall a perilous time for reading/writing.
Despising work then becomes easier. To be lured away from one's passions is a heart-rending struggle. One can quickly judge that work, it would always be work, is against his/her passions. I could not rightly blame people who have been exasperated by work and then resorting to leave. It is quite a dramatic intervention, yet not a solution. Work, we tend to think, is an antagonist, occupying the space once reserved to the passions. With deliverables that keep on piling, and passions that rot by the wayside, it could rightly be said that people exist without having actually lived.
There ought to be a meticulous balance between both, work and passion. I believe they are legitimate pursuits. Their balance might be called an art, even. Yet art can only be crafted by the artist. The canvas can only be painted by the one staring at it. And I think I should stop staring.
Despising work then becomes easier. To be lured away from one's passions is a heart-rending struggle. One can quickly judge that work, it would always be work, is against his/her passions. I could not rightly blame people who have been exasperated by work and then resorting to leave. It is quite a dramatic intervention, yet not a solution. Work, we tend to think, is an antagonist, occupying the space once reserved to the passions. With deliverables that keep on piling, and passions that rot by the wayside, it could rightly be said that people exist without having actually lived.
There ought to be a meticulous balance between both, work and passion. I believe they are legitimate pursuits. Their balance might be called an art, even. Yet art can only be crafted by the artist. The canvas can only be painted by the one staring at it. And I think I should stop staring.
"Blessed are those who are not using the MRT on a regular basis." Amen. :))
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