A mindful re-beginning

Recently a couple of my friends asked me about this blog of mine. It didn’t sound like a genuine inquiry into its current state of disuse but more like an obituary and so, true to my always procrastinating form I rise again from the ashes of self pity and excuses to write. Write, I hope well! So I may again have the handful of readers who still remember the blog although its creator had all but forgotten about it. Now, that last sentence done and my ego buffeted by my own sunshine being blown up my own end, lets get down to writing.

As I wonder about what I may write and muse to myself sitting in my hospital cabin the irony of it strikes me. The choice of the name mindless musings (most people who know me would vouch about the mindlessness of most of my words) seemed natural to me when I started off, but now as I sit here in the hospital as a psychiatrist the loose usage of the word hits me in the face much the same as a Brett Lee bouncer would some of our esteemed batsmen.

What is the mind and when is it mindless? Where does the boundary of reality end and where does the unreal begin? Does being so close to the divide all day long make the question even more poignant or does it dull it so much that the rust on the exhaust pipe of my bike seem more interesting? These are musings that I will leave for later. As for now I have to go attend to the reality of hunger and the surreality of the food my canteen will offer and leave the unreal virtuality of all that I write so very really.

PS: the name will continue to be ‘mindless’