I should learn to let go of riddles and mysteries instead of trying to solve every one of them. The other problem with this attitude is that I try to read more into situations, events or people than probably there is to read. That leads to misunderstandings and suspicions that are probably baseless. All because I want to figure it out. I am not sure of how to let go of the urge to find certainty—maybe truth—and be content in ambiguity, in not knowing, in not having perfect knowledge, in letting things just be. I read the term ‘letting-be’ in another context a while back and I realized that I really do not know how to ‘let be’. I have to poke and probe and trouble and get to the bottom. I cannot let it be. I don’t want to be dismissive of myself because I think a lot of good comes out of not letting things be. Letting be can in a sense amount to letting the status quo be. It is perhaps a position of some privilege. But maybe there is something to be said for balance? There always is, I imagine. How do I balance my desire for truth with a reasonable amount of uncertainty? How do I reconcile myself to the idea that there may be some inherent merit in letting be because not everything is fathomable or knowable… even to itself? That things might not be straightforward enough to ‘solve’ like a problem and multiple truths can coexist? I don’t know how to reach this state but as with all things… perhaps reflecting on this is as good a starting point as any…

I am back—not sure whether the word ‘home’ is apt for where I went to or where I am back to…? What I called home since my childhood seems to have become more of a transient place now, a place I visit, a place that I look forward to, a place that is my reward or treat… and where I am now is where I come back to, the everyday that I have come to be used to. The latter seems more like a definition of home but why be bound by definitions? So far in my life I have always wanted stable categories but now I am veering towards fluidity. I do not have to define this or that as home… home can be where the hearth is or heart is or any number of things. It felt like home in Mangalore but I have never really lived in Mangalore for any length of time… even though it is what I call ‘where I originally come from’. One could say that definition makes no sense so far as ‘home’ is concerned because I don’t have much of a lived history there. But one can’t discount a feeling, can one?

I have more to say on the topic of travel, place, rootedness etc but for another post…