Writer's Notebook

I am proud to confess to be being a lover of life and all that life has to offer. True, it's not all the proverbial bed of roses. Indeed, right now and for various reasons we are going through some pretty tough times. But they all make life itself that much more interesting.

Greater still, I confess to being a lover of the giver of life, who has given me so much, including some of those things, referred to above, I'd rather do without. But he doesn't just dole them out, he also carries us through.

I also confess to being a lover of light. I guess I am just drawn to anything that exudes light. Which is why this time of year is my favourite. I love getting up early and watch the sun creeping over the horizon, bathing everything coming into sight with its soothing, stimulating rays. I am also fascinated by kaleidoscopes, and the way they turn light into a thousand and one things of beauty.

I guess after this fairly unscientific definition of what a kaleidoscope does, it comes as no surprise if I confess that the vast domain of science remains a mystery to me: one that friends are slowly and patiently trying to open up to me. Their's may be a lost cause but I have great admiration for their staying power as well as gratitude for the little I've been able to learn from them.

An embarrassing confession is that I can't sit still whenever I go to a music concert. Music to me is the language of the soul and I react via another language - movement, or dance as people often call it. Whenever I hear music that touches me, then I have to express what I feel in an appropriate way: more often that not by giving voice to my body. My daughter often has to chide me about it. She's still naïve enough to think that chiding might bring about change; my wife has given up long ago. But, I always react, pointing to the stiff, statuesque assortments of matter sitting around me, how can anyone just calmly sit in a seat when your soul is being lifted up to heaven. Well, at least, I don't break out into song... at least not in public; at home it's a different matter.

Last and fortunately least, a puzzled confession. I have great difficulty understanding why confession for so many is such a negative thing. Of course, accepting my faults and weaknesses is an part of everyday life, mine included; you just have to ask my wife and children about that. But with so many beautiful and wonderful things around us to confess to, I am saddened that we somehow seem to have got the balance wrong.