As someone who writes a lot of poetry, I occasionally indulge (like every writer of poetry does, I suspect) in the vanity of wondering if my poems will survive me. Who will be like Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) and go largely unnoticed and/or unpublished during their lifetime, but afterwards…? Here the reverie usually drifts off. My point in all this is: what did Kālidāsa daydream about? Could he even imagine a future that was millennia away? And what connection could I make between a poet so far removed in time and culture from my own?
Time. It’s a theme that runs in one way or another through just about everything I write about, the photographs I take, the artwork I create. It’s even an undercurrent in a lot of the books I read, the movies I watch, the music I listen to. The actual and metaphoric passage. It’s the reason I put a clock face on this blog. It’s only accurate for those who live in the same time zone, but that’s what I love about it – the sheer arbitrariness of it. What separates us in time and geography; in culture, habits and creeds, is ultimately, I believe, an illusion. There is only one person here.
On a more general note, things are still a bit "under construction" here. A few changes will no doubt be made, and some features will be added. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy TCM, bookmark us, come back often, leave comments, share your finds, etc. Peace out!
Banner photo: near Nine Pipe Wildlife Refuge, by Juanita Small Salmon, Ronan, Montana.
Rainbow photo from Shutterstock