Saturday, 7 May 2011


(This post was written on April 12th 2011 after recieving some worrying news from home that has since been confirmed but dealt with and thankfully things are thus far going well)

Distance is a beautiful thing. It is air and breath and freshness. It is change and growth and opportunity. It makes the situation more complicated but gives each of us a chance to become resourceful.

I don't have a country I call home. That's probably why I've never understood patriotism. I don't see how you can think your country is great simply because you were born there. Seems a little narcissistic to me.

So perhaps I have always felt at a distance. Home is where the heart is, and so far in my life my heart has gone wherever I have. I spent years on a small island wishing I was on another, and when I finally left I was disappointed that the second island was not as I remembered. For the next three years my heart learned to be portable and travel-friendly.

However one's heart can be in many places at a time. My heart is with my friends, the few I would travel across the world to see; with my greater family, and all those who share my beliefs and aspirations. And my heart is with my family, mostly still on the small island, very, very far from me.

For this reason when there is rupture and disaster, when there is panic and trouble and misfortune, I find myself cursing the distance for being such a double edged sword. For being so appealing an opportunity and yet such a formidable obstacle between me and the ones I love. Although in recent weeks my proximity would not have altered much, I curse the distance for the little lives I am missing out on. I curse the distance for the little support and warmth I could have offered. I curse the distance for extending beyond the reach of my arms and my voice. I curse the distance because there is nothing else that I can do.

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