Why Me? But then... Why not me?

Predictably, when first one receives an (unthinkable) cancer diagnosis or really any horrendous news, the initial reaction invariably is “Why me?” Doom-filled thoughts and emotions might crowd the mind and take over one’s life. One might feel wronged and singled out and sorry for oneself. It might seem as if life has turned against you and picked you as the victim of its worst caprice. 

Eventually, the passage of time tends to lend perspective. For every seemingly fortunate person, it seems there are as many that are afflicted with terrible misfortune. While one’s own tragedy never diminishes, the misfortune of others can sometimes be recognized as truly catastrophic. 

While a few happy people might live relatively carefree lives seemingly untouched by calamity, most of us will have it better than some and worse than others. That’s why the anguished and plaintive “Why me?” must logically be followed by the saner and more rational “Why not me?”

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/why-me-but-then-why-not-me

These Tracks Forgot Themselves

For two years, they ran smoothly on a parallel course - railway tracks traveling to a single end-point. Each strong and independent, but each relying on and validating the other. Both deeply inter-dependent until infinity, or till one might cease its journey and make the other redundant. 

Then, one day, the tracks forgot themselves and tried to meet. One veered toward the other and the other bent closer in response, foolishly forgetting that railway tracks don’t join. In a flash: the familiar became strange, the comfortable became uneasy and the strong became weak. In a moment, they lost their joint purpose and laid the ground for a train wreck...

What can be salvaged now? Can the steel recover? Or did it bend beyond its yield point? Will this track break down? Or can it straighten out and find again the measured distance it must keep? Will the pain eventually morph to sadness? Can the sadness pass or be forgotten? Will they find again the peace and harmony they have lost?

“Many people think excitement is happiness… but when you are excited you are not peaceful. True happiness is based on peace.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Happy New Year

This year, I will live by the Lunar calendar and celebrate the start of the new year today. I will remove January 2019 from my life. The page is torn from my calendar. It never existed. It is gone forever – taking with it all the ugliness and pain and suffering that this blighted month inflicted.

The new year has already started in the East, allowing us all another chance to start anew. I will celebrate it, along with the Chinese, as the beginning of Spring: the season of rebirth and revival and rejuvenation. I will wash my hair and cleanse my body and decontaminate my mind – rinse out the grime and drain away the toxic.

I will make way for beauty and grace and lightness to enter my life again, as I start my year afresh. I will extend invitations to house guests, make time for loved ones, create space for laughter and revel in the comfort of friends. I will repair what has been eroded, glory in being myself once more and find my own light.

“There is nothing more rare nor more beautiful than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” ~ Steve Maraboli

The Language of Children

We had three children in the house. The Canadian siblings, 12-year old Dhruv and six-year old Sara, were meeting their cousin from India, 20-month old toddler Shaira, for the very first time.

Expectedly, each day was a circus of entertainment – lighthearted laughter interspersed with periodic tantrums and ready tears. Each little person had their individual characteristics and they bridged their differences in educative ways. They used their inherent negotiation skills and communicated in the unique language of children!

The usually taciturn and blasé Dhruv was ever ready to play the clown for Shaira: turning on her favorite nursery rhymes, amusing her in every way he knew and being ever the protective big brother. Sara vacillated between being the knowing elder sister (at bath time, ‘no missy, you can’t have the soap’) and sometimes regressed to babyhood when the new baby received too much attention. And then baby Shaira – she quickly became devoted to her older cousins, wandering about the house calling ‘Didi, didi!’ or asking plaintively ‘Where is Drewy?’.

It has been heart-warming to see the genuine affection that grew between these three children in just two short weeks. When the visit ended, good byes were said with heavy hearts before they left for distant corners of the globe. I know their time together has made a deep impression on each little mind. Video messages have been recorded and shared, names are constantly remembered, and inquiries periodically made. I like to think they have sown together the seeds of a deep and forever sibling love…

America's Leader

The leader of the most powerful country on earth has divided the world in two, using a scatological epithet to describe what he sees as the inferior part. If poor and colored are the criteria for lesser countries, then I come from one of these.

Six months ago, early in this presidency, I had the opportunity to meet Joe Biden, erstwhile US Vice President. In an anxious state of mind, I told him I was an immigrant and asked if I had made a mistake. His gracious words offered comfort to my troubled being. He said, “Thank you for choosing us”. And now this…

We choose this country because we admire what it stands for - inclusiveness and opportunity, freedom and fairness - all combining to create a safe environment of civility and dignity. This week, my chosen state has witnessed hate messages that are characteristic of the Nazis and the KKK. This leader has given sanction for the worst in America to surface once again.

I was born in a Hindu family and married a man with a white European father and a Muslim mother. Differences of country and color and creed have never defined the people in my world. But today I question my choice of home. Is this the place I want to live?

Their Story

Theirs was an unexpected and chance meeting. It was not a gradual growing together of like-minded persons, whose acquaintance may have started in the workplace or within a club – which might provide the comforting cushion of context. They came from vastly different worlds and diverse too were their circumstances and the events and experiences that shaped each one of them. One had been injured and hoped to heal again. The other had been long asleep and was ready to wake up. So they came together abruptly, in an awkward dance of muddled minds and confused bodies. They had a few things in common. They were synchronized and in harmony on some days, but uncoordinated and incompatible on others. Their haphazard collision culminated inevitably, in disintegration. 

But turbulence has been known to shift into tranquility and they could become fellow travelers adding meaning to each other's journey. They might be like the railway tracks, which travel together to a common destination but never join. Each track of tempered steel is strong and independent; yet both run together to carry a shared burden, each validates the other, and the two are inter-dependent in a unique and infinite way. After all, there is more than one kind of chemistry. Chemistry can create substances that corrode, or it might combine elements to ignite and explode, or it might be the alchemy that purifies and perfects. Theirs could become the alchemy that transforms lead to gold…

Bollywood Music

I imagine, it is hard for people to understand the role that music plays in Indian movies. (While our movies are made in almost as many Indian languages as there are Indian states, I speak really of Hindi cinema.) This music does not come as the signature background score we might hear in Western movies or by way of Hollywood-style musicals such as Moana or La La land!

Playback singing has always been an important part of Hindi movies, which typically have six or seven pre-recorded songs that the actors lip-sync for the cameras. The lyrics of these songs are thoughtfully constructed and frequently poetic. They advance the narrative and are set to carefully composed music. I think this music is part and parcel of one’s DNA, if one grew up in India or even if one’s parents grew up in India!

Filmi music permeates the subcontinent. It can be heard wafting from open windows on warm summer mornings and playing in bustling bazaars on balmy evenings. It runs as a common thread across the nation, connecting small town India with the busy metropolis. The housewife hums a popular tune as she goes about her chores, the delivery boy croons a favorite song as he pedals along on his bicycle and the paan (betel leaf) shop owner sings with the newest release playing on his transistor radio. My earliest memories include Hindi film melodies wafting through the house, from a boxy radio set to my mother’s favorite station. When television first entered our lives, the favorite show was Chitrahaar, featuring a half-hour of popular movie songs picturized in black and white!

Today, this music makes me nostalgic and I am drawn to it more than ever. Here, in distant America, Bollywood music is a touch of home. My ears love the words and the tunes and the sound of the Hindi language. A wonderful App allows me to listen and download and share the songs that strike a chord. This is more than just music and it is so pleasing that I can carry it with me; in my phone and in my heart and in my head.

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/bollywood-music/

Little People, Enchanted Worlds

For the past three weeks, I’ve had 11-year-old Dhruv and just-under-six Sara as house guests in DC and we’ve inhabited a magic world. There have been excursions and explorations and discoveries and epiphanies. We have had teasing and laughter and tantrums and tears. Some days have been exhaustingly long – with working and chores and caring for the kids – but then the stress vanished as we chased fireflies at dusk…

And we have had some defining moments… The tooth fairy made two visits in a week, after Sara lost two teeth in quick succession and (of course) the Calgary fairy was texted to please come to Alexandria, given our current whereabouts. A second missive has been sent since, seeking advice on the best way to eat if one has two missing teeth and third ‘wiggerly’ one! Enriched with $10 from this bountiful tooth fairy, Ms Sara set forth for some 'jewelry’ shopping at Claire’s and the highlight for me was Dhruv’s insightful and profound comment, spoken in wonderment, “they can take the simplest thing and make it as mindless as possible!”.

Numerous pearls of wisdom have been uttered these past weeks and some of these gems had me scrambling for pen and paper, lest they be forgotten after being spoken! The most precious by far was Sara’s dream yesterday, “I was walking through a rainbow and a unicorn came and picked me up and took me for a ride in the sky”. We should all be so lucky to have dreams such as this!

Now, the house is silent as both children sleep gently in their enchanted worlds. The bags are all packed and standing ready by the door. Their early morning departure hangs over me like a dark and inevitable cloud. And so it goes – till I see them next and share in fresh adventures.

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/little-people-enchanted-worlds/

Art Museums, Other Worlds

The most wonderful aspect of living in Washington DC is the easy access to its world-class museums and monuments, most of them free of charge. I never tire of repeatedly visiting all the Smithsonian museums and it is a special reward to frequently discover new exhibits, temporary and permanent. I have made several excursions to the Natural History and Holocaust museums, been awestruck at the National Air and Space museum and browsed the fascinating Newseum. I remain in queue for the newly opened National Museum of African American History & Culture. However, it is DC’s several art museums that truly transport me!

Gaps between business appointments will generally see me change into walking shoes and head to the National Portrait Gallery, to become immersed in the fascinating stories of the notable personalities that shaped America - leaders, rebels, artists, entrepreneurs, entertainers. This past week provided the welcome opportunity for two visits to the National Gallery of Art, and they weren’t nearly enough! I will be back, having seen only a very small fraction of all that is on offer in the numerous galleries across the beautifully laid out and older West Wing; and the spaciously modern and newer East Wing.

I have been so moved by all the breathtakingly beautiful creations - paintings, sculptures, tapestries, carvings, photographs - and so greatly impressed by how these museums have been thoughtfully and lovingly curated. It is a stroke of genius to place an old master alongside a modern one; to allow the viewer to experience both the contrasts and the parallels, as he imagines the varying worlds the artists inhabited and the different experiences that shaped their techniques. I am also deeply touched by the generosity and benevolence of all the art donors, who have made it possible for viewers like me to gaze upon masterpieces that we could only have read about or seen in picture books…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/art-museums-other-worlds/

Impatient to Grow Older

Yes, you read that correctly. While most of us would love to halt the clock, I am currently spending a good deal of quality time with a little person that can hardly wait to get older! Little Ms Sara doesn’t much care to be labeled as little and, at just short of six years, I imagine it is irksome to always be smaller than 11-year old brother Dhruv…

Curious to understand this urgency to enter the ‘big girl’ world, I confronted Sara directly and unearthed some surprising revelations and an interesting mix of motivators. Right up front, Sara confessed that she wanted to be a big girl so that she would be able (and allowed) to read big girl books and magazines, including details of makeovers and other appearance-enhancing secrets. Redeeming herself somewhat, she added that she also wanted to grow older so she would be able to do Math and (somewhat mystifying) ‘so that I can fold clothes better’!

Sara confided that an important consideration was to have her own room and she went on to describe the various elements needed to render this a perfect environment. ‘I want a pretty room, with a pretty bed and a pretty closet with pretty clothes inside it.’ Warming to the theme, she elaborated, ‘I also want a baby crib and a dolly I will love’ and suggested that this beloved doll would need lots of her own clothes. Hooks were mentioned for hanging ‘princess dresses’ but I’m not quite sure if these dresses were to be for Sara or the precious doll…

At this juncture, Sara’s imagination was unleashed from all inhibiting bounds and she declared, ‘I want my own window, where I will get to place my Legos on the window sill’ and ‘I also want my own bookshelf and desk with a laptop and piggy bank!’ Somewhat diverted, I asked how this piggy bank was to be filled and received this thoughtful and comprehensive reply, ‘the piggy bank will be full of money from mummy, for doing good things like helping to make beds, clearing up toys and helping fix the couch and pillows’.

To round off her ‘big girl’ vison, Ms. Sara told me that she wanted her own bathroom with ‘no boy’s toothbrush’ and I couldn't help but say, ‘well, that makes two of us'!

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/impatient-to-grow-older/

Which Comes First?

Do I love you because you are perfect? Or, are you perfect because I love you?

Each of us would answer in the affirmative to the second question, were it asked about a parent or a sibling or an offspring. However, the standard might shift when speaking of a romantic partner or spouse - perhaps even leaning toward perfection of appearance, over intellectual perfection or artistic perfection!

I cannot imagine the slightest diminishing of our unbound love for the most impossible children, maddening siblings or exasperating parents, regardless of how distant they might be from any accepted notion of perfection. They spell perfection, simply because we love them. Maybe our sights get realigned in seeking a partner; perhaps we look for an elusive chemistry or even the envy of passersby! We might then benefit from the ancient Greek wisdom: ‘There is but one genuine love-potion – consideration’ - Menander (circa 343–291 BC)

In the same vein, do good looks make for lasting compatibility? Likely not, if the world of show-business and its beautiful inhabitants is anything to judge by. At the same time, we all know of deep and abiding relationships that involve persons who are less than perfect; where beauty does indeed lie in the eye of the beholder or love truly is blind… 

We would do well to remind ourselves that ‘We don’t love qualities, we love a person; sometimes by reason of their defects as well as their qualities.’ - Jacques Maritain (1882-1973)

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/love-or-perfection-which-comes-first/

Human Mortality

Recently, I have witnessed the experience of friends dealing with the suffering of beloved aging parents. While the ailing parents suffer physical pain, their children must cope with the emotional debility and helplessness in the face of the oncoming and inevitable end. I have repeatedly encountered the unlikely sentiment that death is preferable to a diminished and painful life that no longer has meaning.

I am deeply moved by the (now well-known) experience of a neurosurgeon diagnosed with lung cancer in his thirties and his wife, as they bravely dealt with and documented the end. I am struck with their struggle to imbue his remaining life with meaning, their decision to have a baby and their belief that one always has a choice.

Few of us have answers and I certainly have only questions… So, I turned to the wisdom of the Hindu scriptures and the words of the ancient sages to find these comforting words: ‘The body has death, but not the soul. The body sleeps, the soul flies.’ and ‘He who lives the inner life knows that death is truly his resting-room. To him, death is anything but extinction. It is a meaningful departure.’ Yesterday, I wandered among the gravestones in the Christian cemetery across the street from my Alexandria home and read several words of comfort in the epitaphs: ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it’ and ‘He shall receive, in the world to come, eternal light.’

I’m sure we each seek to make our lives more meaningful each day. At the same time, we will each have to come to terms with our mortality. The New York Times so eloquently describes the 'symptoms of dying': https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/20/well/live/the-symptoms-of-dying.html

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/human-mortality/

 

The Little Boat

For a very long time now, the little boat has lived in her protected cove. Here she bobs on gentle waves, surrounded by the friendly familiar fish and safe from dangerous choppy seas. She carries only a distant memory of the open ocean and the peril lurking in its depths.

This little boat had once been new and shiny and her pretty painted colors distinguished her from all the rest. Foolishly, she braved the high seas: riding the great waves, glorying in the sunny skies and believing the waters would stay blue forever. She was unprepared for the unexpected storm that rolled forth from the seemingly calm heavens. She was battered by the deadly giant breakers. She almost buckled and capsized before the onslaught of these implacable elements. Still, her spirit remained unbroken and kept her going till the storm abated. Eventually, she found her little cove and righted herself to an even keel. The sun emerged to shine kindly upon her again.

While the colors of the little boat are somewhat worn, her spirit remains strong and her spine unbent. Today, her beauty has depth and is layered with a wisdom and humility that she did not have before. She loves her sheltered cove, but also sees the beckoning ocean just beyond its mouth. Now seasoned with years of knowledge and understanding, will her thoughtful experience allow her to venture to the sea again?

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/the-little-boat/

Back in Time

I could hardly process all the thoughts that came crowding to my mind. The day stretched longer than expected, but finally I was settled in the back seat of this little car. We sped along at dusk, on an oft-traveled and once familiar road, to the small town where I was born. Here was once the happy home I couldn’t wait to see each winter holiday, through my boarding school years. Here once lived my beloved parents and precious siblings, who together constituted my earliest and most carefree world. Here we have celebrated joyful weddings, rejoiced in new arrivals and grieved heartbreaking loss – experiencing together the defining moments and emotional milestones that mark all human life.

Familiar landmarks flew by in the summer darkness as the little car ate up each oncoming mile and its engine continued a noisy drone. I steadied my emotions and ordered my thoughts in these three hours, as I journeyed to the past and picked through all the memories. I found myself smiling a few times and, in other instances, my eyes filled up and brimmed over silently in the concealing darkness.

But then, we turned into a gate, I rang a doorbell and a door opened to spill a wash of welcoming light. It was time to leave the past and come out of the dark into the welcoming lit-up present. It was time to let go of my sentimental nostalgia for what used to be. It was time to enter this joyful present and look forward to a hopeful future…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/back-in-time/

Traversing Distances

This past week has seen me travel thousands of miles – from DC to Chicago, then Chicago to Zurich to Mumbai. I have been encapsulated in gravity-defying, gargantuan metal tubes with gigantic magic wings. I have been nourished and cared for in this unreal shell, insulated from freezing temperatures and unfeeling elements, far above the earth’s surface. I never cease to wonder at the incredible human progress that allows us to be transported thus, over vast lands and high mountains and deep oceans, to arrive unerringly at a safe and specific destination.

And, I have traversed other distances. I met with friends not seen in over a decade, using technology to find them and bridge the interim years. I navigated emotional spaces, using words and images transmitted miraculously over telephone and satellite cables. I spanned intellectual divides, with the realization that deep connections extend beyond rational minds…

While modern innovation makes each crossing possible, I believe all journeys must still end in human contact. Ultimately, it narrows down to warm connections, shared experience and the age-old human touch. I am blessed to have so many loved ones, in so many distant corners of the world. But there is another side to this coin. No matter where in the world I might be, there is always a beloved person I am removed from - till it’s time to travel back.

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/traversing-distances/

  

Story of the Wind Chimes

Few things are as pleasing as the mellow music played by gentle breezes on carefully crafted wind chimes. Oriental cultures believe these delicate bells, with their eclectic sounds, bring luck and prosperity. And then: my intricate copper wind chimes were artistically carved by the Tibetan monks at Norbulingka Monastery in Dharamsala, Himalayan home of the Dalai Lama for nearly 60 years.

Very early in the new millennium I travelled with my parents to Dharamsala, our last mountain holiday before Dad’s health limited road travel to distant places. We stayed at a little hotel in picture-perfect Naddi (their L-shaped room had a corner for my very small bed and a very large window with a breathtaking mountain view – a coin dropped out that window would fall in a valley hundreds of feet below!). It was then we visited Norbulingka and I acquired these wind chimes that never failed to lift my spirits even as they reminded me of our last, and most precious, excursion.

In the past 15 years I have changed six homes across three cities and these wind chimes have hung in every abode: harnessing pleasant breezes off the Arabian Sea in Mumbai, capturing cool autumn gusts in St. Louis and adorning wide, flowerpot-laden, balconies in Delhi. I moved to a DC flat last year and for the first time my wind chimes were relegated to a drawer. There was simply nowhere I could hang them… till last week. Last week these valued chimes became a present to adorn the newly purchased home of a dear friend – a most apt place for these benevolent bells to deliver their auspicious blessings.

As I hung up the wind chimes on a sunrise-facing patio, I knew the Atlantic breezes would soon come to play with them. Just for a moment, I was torn between the desire to hold on to something so precious and the knowledge that my beloved wind chimes needed to be where they would experience the breeze again. Everything (and every being) deserves an environment that will let it be what it is meant to be. Even more, it deserves an environment where it is pushed to become the best that it can be…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/story-of-the-wind-chimes/

Outdoor Spaces

The thing I like best about America is her outdoor spaces. I love that one can walk along the street and not be jostled by crowds. I love that one can hike on mountain trails or stroll in city parks and not see another person for extended periods of time. Above all, I love that there are so many seasons when one can curl up with a favorite book along a river bank or in a shaded glade or on a private deck.

While I loved living in the vibrancy of India – with its color and chaos and crowds – it is only in the very high Himalaya that I enjoyed the true solitude of nature! There are few, if any, outdoor spaces on the sub-continent where one can look around and not see another living being. The overcrowding is becoming compounded by growing pollution, a deterrent even for the more determined outdoors lover. And then there is the punishing climate: long hot dry summers and brief intense winters, marked increasingly by a pall of smog.

Much of my time in DC is spent under the sky and walking has become a way of life. I walk most frequently to the metro, but I also walk to the grocery store, the chemist, the bank, the doctor, the dentist and even the DMV! I walk on cool Spring mornings and balmy Summer evenings and golden Autumn days and chilly Winter afternoons. Undoubtedly, I have become a walkaholic, never tiring of the river bank, the fresh air and the verdant spaces around me…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/outdoor-spaces/

Complex Families

We had two sets of paternal grandparents. Our father (one among three brothers and three sisters) was a beloved child given in adoption to a neighborhood couple! Apparently, his biological father was moved by the plight of a childless neighbor and generously offered up his eldest son – I don’t think the women in the two households were consulted at all! In the early days, he enjoyed two pairs of loving parents, eating and sleeping where he pleased and being particularly pampered as a new and only child in his new home. He continued to associate with his siblings till he shifted with his adoptive parents, to a town less than 50 miles away.

As an only child (in a manner of speaking), dad likely enjoyed some material advantage over his siblings. Eventually, his marriage was arranged with another only child and they became parents to us – four boys and a girl. Our unusual history meant we siblings were not really linked with our aunts, uncles and cousins, though we met them at family events. As a result, we have always been deeply connected among ourselves and form a safe place for each other, even more so after the passing of our parents. Our 11 children (and their spouses) are mostly close-knit despite large distances. Our 11 grandchildren are growing quickly and will they stay in touch as their numbers increase? In any family tree, each subsequent generation grows further from the center – just as spreading branches constantly sprout new shoots and grow more distant from the rooted tree trunk.

I also see it as my role to stay attached with my husband’s siblings, ensuring my children are linked to his family as they are to mine… is this an Indian thing? Today, an Indian friend was describing how they stay bonded as a family, successfully using technology and planning periodic reunions. While births and deaths and weddings will always play a part in bringing families together and strengthening relationships, even across vast distances, should we play more active or affirmative roles? Conversely, is it unrealistic to expect our children and their children to divert energy from the business of growing independence and new alliances, in order to strengthen ties to their roots? I expect the answer, as in most things, is to find a balance…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/complex-families/

Inseparable

I just read the story of a Chicago couple dying within an hour of each other, after being married 69 years. Teresa died at 12:10 a.m. aged 89, while her husband, 91-year-old Isaac, died at 12:50 a.m.They were holding hands when she passed away and he stopped breathing when family members separated the couple’s fingers. According to their daughter, her parents’ “love for each other was so strong they simply could not live without each other.”

I knew such a couple, married 59 years. Our father’s passing filled us all with grief, but our loss was nothing as compared to our mother’s pain. In the year she lived without him, she did what she needed to do, but her core was extinguished; her spirit snuffed out. She grew frail each day and felt betrayed that he had left her. She spoke often of joining him.

I was present as she spoke to the psychiatrist (we feared she was depressed and set up the appointment against her will) and learned things I had not known before. On quiet nights, they talked about the end: the unlikelihood of going together; the assurance that the first to go would wait for the other; the agreement that the survivor would stay in their own home. Ma called it thikaana – a Hindi word that translates as fixed abode, for the body but perhaps also for the spirit. The doctor asked her if she felt alone and she said simply, “I am not alone. He is here with me”.

She departed one year after him and she was ready to go. We all felt sadness at her passing, but I knew she was finally where she wanted to be – rejoined with him in an afterlife. One can’t but envy what they had. Perhaps, they have it still…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/inseparable/

Alike or Complementary?

We have an innate tendency to associate with the like-minded. Recently, we have seen thinkers and writers refer to the dangers of inhabiting an echo chamber, where you meet people like yourself and never hear views divergent from your own. And how does this translate in relationships? I have heard songs of love, where it seems desirable for one to become dyed in the hues of the other, till they are no longer separate.

All of us know of some truly successful partnerships. We have all envied some enduring and emulation-worthy relationships. We can agree that each, increasingly rare, alliance has been nurtured and supported and strengthened over a period of time. But does the secret lie in the ingredients that came together in the first place or do trials and tribulations strengthen all bonds, as storms test oaks and fire tempers steel?

Perhaps similarity is overrated and complementarity is more desirable. We know that design is created from parts that may be different but they fit, sometimes in surprising ways. Still, I feel at some deep and innate level, the fabric must be similar (at least not jarring) even though structures might vary. Maybe, even between the seemingly disparate, patterns become more beautiful as colors meld and configurations grow more familiar…

Eventually: “We take our colors chameleon-like from each other” Nicolas de Chamfort, writer (1741-1794)

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/alike-or-complementary/