#emptying thoughts

I remember reading Orhan Pamuk's book "Istanbul: Memories and the City" two decades ago.

With passage of time, memories fade and details blur. But what remains are evocation of emotions, feelings and words associated with moments. I no longer remember the specific details of this book. But when I finished It, I remember being washed over by a deep sense of melancholy and longing. As someone who enjoys the power of the written word with its ability to elicit and provide colour to emotions, the book became forever associated with one word - Hüzün. Whilst the book had painted a textured, almost tactile, imagery of its protagonist city suggesting that tone that suited it most was black and white, in my head Hüzün gave it a sepia tone. It bathed the city in twilight. It was 5 years later that I realized that Istanbul was anything but black and white.

For Pamuk, hüzün points to a collective and communal sense of sadness or melancholy that afflicts the populace of the city. A nod to its glorious history and loss of its grandeur. To say that it is sadness is under playing the very essence of it. It is a complex interplay of sadness that co-exists with joy. It is beautiful sadness devoid of the sharpness of pain..

Portuguese has saudade. It is a more personal feeling. Whilst it evokes similar emotions, it is not the same. It's about yearning - for the past, for the present, even for things that never happened or will never happen, something unattainable. It has a certain romantic quality to it.

The reason I muse about these beautiful words is because of a certain emotional make up which I live with. I have always felt emotions intensely. I feel love, anger, like, dislike etc. very intensely. That's for everyone to see. It's never hidden. What I don't let others see is that I have always had the tendency to absorb moments and feel the weight of those moments. Life in retrospect, for me, is a collection of such moments.

I cannot explain the melancholy which comes in the midst of happy moments. The brief sadness which appears to remind me that this happiness that I feel at that moment shall pass to never return again. It may be a watching sunset and moonrise over the batoka gorge with mighty Zambezi below you. It could be dinner with friends and family. It might be a walk with a friend and not utter a single word for hours yet still feel like a lot was said. It could be the enjoying some truly incredible food.

Genuinity is greatly wished.

However nothing is perfect;

Imperfections make it correct.

Becoming who you are not;

Is just a result of what-not.

Coming to terms on such;

Doing everything much.

I hope and pray one day;

I can see and pave my own way.

I trust and pray everything will settle;

The pain of breathing

I had never felt until

Love could not come home

.

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🏳️‍🌈