"You taint everything and strip them to nothing. If something doesn't make sense, it means it's not real." - Wilson talking to House
I got myself stuck in front of the TV yesterday. It's one of those rare occasions that I consciously make an effort to stay home on a weekend and basically do close to nothing but read books and watch TV. I figured, I'm paying for cable subscription that I don't get to enjoy so might as well make time (read: calendar it) to make said subscription worth every cent.
I usually stick to one channel because I'm not the channel-surfing type (I think that's the politically correct way of saying I hate channel surfing). Not that I don't do it sometimes. And yesterday was one of those days I did, which turned out to be a good thing because I had the chance to watch (again) two episodes of House.
I've always believed that watching House episodes over and over again will never be wasted time. There's just so many things going on in each one. Take this episode where House got shot. It's an old one and I've watched it a couple of times already from what feels like a long time ago. So while I was watching it yesterday, I couldn't help but think that it's a deja vu of a different sort.
I've already created connections between scenes and conversations with certain thoughts, reflections, reactions and feelings. But I was surprised to realize that while watching it again yesterday, a part of me knew what's going to happen and yet I was still drawn to the story like it was the first time I'd hear and see everything.
In a way, it was indeed another first. First of the old. It's like picking up new things from what appeared to be beaten paths. This made me think of how apt that lesson was for how I try to understand an avalanche of thoughts and feelings that are attempting to drown me. I feel all these things hence they are real to me. But I may be grasping at flimsy ropes of salvation the wrong way.
Drowning is a threat but I'm not one to go down without a fight. It could be I'm drowning because I'm burdened with so many useless things that I need to let go for now. Who knows, if I'm lucky, as I always am, I might find them all again. If not, I'm sure I'll recover some and move on to find more to replace what was lost.
A famous Zen master once said: "How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?" And that reminds me once again that I'm here to learn. All these which I think, feel and sense are real. They don't matter much though because I'll always take away as much as I can from life regardless of the recurring fear that what I take may forever chafe my soul.