Alien Landscape

such a pleasant coincidence to read Sylvia Plath and coming across thoughts that mirror my own in a way in my previous entry. she wrote,

I am part man, and I notice women's breasts and thighs with the calculation of a man choosing a mistress ... but that is the artist and the analytical attitude toward the female body ... for I am more a woman; even as I long for full breasts and a beautiful body, so do I abhor the sensuousness which they bring ... I desire the things which will destroy me in the end ...

and so often do i do that too. not desiring full breasts and a beautiful body but desiring the honesty of great men like the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w. and sad girl-writers like Sylvia Plath and fierce lovers like Rabiatul Adawiyah who wanted absolutely nothing in return of loving God. should i come close to this calibre of honesty, i catch a glimpse of what is inside of me and withdraw quickly into that sad little cave i build around myself to shelter my consciousness from truth. else i shrivel up and die in shame for the unworthy soul that occupies this body.

standing between me and greatness (or preferably freedom) are three massively ugly things: sloth, dishonesty and cowardice. three-pronged rivers of churning viscous black scum. and the desert of insecurity to cross. i am a long long way from contentment.
Posted by NHJ 1/29/2006 08:02:00 pm

Sunday, January 29, 2006