..this blogpost, just showing top on my laptop. The Pages Gods are telling me something. I need to listen, attentively.
Veenu Banga
April 29th 2026
West Midlands.
~~~~~~~
Sat and wrote this in the dark last night, and on my phone. Thought I had published it. Published without rereading so wanted to check now. Also had thought it was December 1st. Obviously not, to both. Not posted, not December 1st, which is today.
Many a time, I’ve been thinking something, and the internet Gods show me advertisements for the very stuff. Bizarre. Or maybe not. In this current space and state of affairs, anything is possible. Proves my theory, that we are going further and further away from creation, from our selves, from that which is at our core. That which comprised our core physical, mental and spiritual.
It’s not all bad, and it doesn’t have to be. It’s just that the serious and universally beneficial use of technology has bled into areas of entertainment. Bleeding further and further and deeper and deeper where its roots are entangled with our spiritual growth, disconnecting us from our environments and suffocating us earlier and earlier in our stages of development. Catching them young with games and so called educational experiences.
Educational experiences? Within closed environments? What about getting our hands dirty. The joys of feeling rain and dirtying muck and hearing the birds and smelling the sea? Tasting the salt in the particles in the air, watching the horizon with the clouds moving across the sky, playing games with the sun trying to out shine and hide, and then watching the sun scale the south going home west, at least in the northern hemisphere.
There’s magic if we only seek it- a new story written every day, and it’s not saved on any drive. You see it, or you don’t, it’s lost in the ether- and why do they call what they call Ether-net? Where does that come from?
Anyway, 10:40 pm and December 1st is today. I had forgotten to write the date last night, wanting to get to bed at an earthly hour. Also gives me an opportunity to go over the below, or not, but the title Undressing in December refers to the below, written last night.
Miss the good old days of writing letters, even to my friends living locally but not nearby. I’ve long thought I need a penpal! Again. It will save the USPS, the Royal Mail, Australia Post, and all the Postal other organizations of the world from becoming defunct, if we could bring back the joys of letter writing! To the post, ahoy!
~~~~~~~
Undressing in December.
Today was not the first time I noticed them, but it was the first time I felt this way. A little sad, maybe not a little, more than a little. Today I felt them. Really ‘felt’ them. Rows and rows of them, along the sides of the country lanes. In Clumps. Alone in a field of undulating ground, even the farmland looked lonely. But it was the trees I felt, and felt for.
Standing naked and stark, their branches dried and still. I wished I could put a blanket over them. Now that they’re bare, even the birds do not visit.
I wonder what they feel about the birch trees, some still have their drying foliage of their rounded leaves like gold medallions, clinging to them. They’re among the last to shed, the silver birch. Oh! and what of the firs? Their leaves are all intact. In the tree kingdom I’m sure there’s no jealousy or envy. Do the roots talk beneath the ground?
The trees stand so patiently and seem to say, “We’re just changing, don’t look now..give us some weeks and we will be wearing our pubescent green, which will soon be a full fledged canopy.” But I don’t listen, I look. And the feeling overwhelms me again. I know that intellectually, but can’t shake the feeling of wanting to embrace them somehow and reassure them about something they already know, that Winter shall pass and give way to Spring. That winter serves a purpose. The tulip bulbs know, as do the daffodils, and all the other bulbs that like to root in winter. That’s their cycle of growth, it’s my own ignorance, not theirs. I also know that with the lushness will come the birds, the flowers and the fruits. I foolishly, the mere, mortal meanwhile indulge in a self importance of sorts.
Thoughts of the bare trees occupy me and I feel them in my body, as though I was in the nude, in my bare bones exposed, not just physically but my unseen vulnerabilities. Some of the trees may face the axe to be kindled, collected for firewood. They stand stoic and undeterred. Always giving, dear precious trees. Why can’t we human beings learn from all that which is not manmade? Nature?
December comes quietly for nature, not much activity, but yes, more hibernation. We humans do the exact opposite. Instead of turning inwards and undressing and discarding our wounds and vices long past and no longer serving us, we do the exact opposite. Party.
We could take cue from Nature and slow down, focus on discarding what will soon be old. Instead, we go shopping, go crazy in the frenzy of the acquiring of the material. Instead of purging and detoxing, starting with our minds. I personally need to do that, after some dark days, pun intended, with sunset at 3:54 pm these days.
Perhaps I will reflect on the year gone by already. Where was I and what was I doing in January? And so on. Google photos will help me with that. Two new places under my belt. Internationally, Bologna and Stockholm and surrounds. Also the many local trips often repeat, such as to the Cotswolds. First time to Somerset, Glastonbury, and Cardiff, Wales. Glastonbury was interesting, even though we visited the town only on the last two days of our eight night trip to Somerset, staying out in boonies at a Farm Lodge we had all to ourselves. No street lights for. Miles around, and the country lane meant for a single car. Sadly no view of the stars, due to cloudy skies all week, except the sun broke through on our last day as we headed out.
Meetings strangers who became friends. Çiğdem in Strasbourg and Alia in a Stockholm suburb. The Moroccan girl in the restaurant near our hotel in Frankfurt, who flies home to Morocco every weekend. She wears Musc by RodriBeautiful people and we had some lovely long conversations,
Was looking at old photos from 12 years ago, and in many seeing the cobblestones of the places my feet trod upon. Humbling and inspiring. Grateful. Only one trip to Amsterdam. Eating at my first Michelin star at K and A’s insistence, because they had loved it earlier. Yea, it does no disappoint! And meeting the most interesting Michelin chef on a Sunday night, of bc a magical weekend. Actually I had gotten talking to him, outside a famous ice cream shop as I noticed he was eating the same flavors I chose. Pistachios and I other, might have been pecan.
Forgot meeting Emma and her hubby in Bologna, couple from the UK.
Locally went to Somerset, 9 nights in the middle of nowhere. Fascinating town of Cheddar, down deep in the Gorge. Plus more. Got to save some for later.
Veenu Banga
11:27 pm.
——
Sat and wrote this in the dark, last night, and thought had published it. Published with rereading so thought to check this morning. Also had thought it was December 1st. Obviously not, to both. Not posted, not December 1st, which is today.
Many a time, I’ve been thinking something, and the internet Gods show me advertisements for the very stuff. Bizarre. Or maybe not. In this current space and state of affairs, anything is possible. Proves my theory, that we are going further and further away from creation, from our selves, from that which is at our core. That which comprised our core physical, mental and spiritual.
It’s not all bad, and it doesn’t have to be. It’s just that the serious and universally beneficial use of technology has bled into areas of entertainment. Bleeding further and further and deeper and deeper where its roots are entangled with our spiritual growth, disconnecting us from our environments and suffocating us earlier and earlier in our stages of development. Catching them young with games and so called educational experiences.
Educational experiences? Within closed environments? What about getting our hands dirty. The joys of feeling rain and dirtying muck and hearing the birds and smelling the sea? Tasting the salt in the particles in the air, watching the horizon with the clouds moving across the sky, playing games with the sun trying to out shine and hide, and then watching the sun scale the south going home west, at least in the northern hemisphere.
There’s magic if we only seek it- a new story written every day, and it’s not saved on any drive. You see it, or you don’t, it’s lost in the ether- and why do they call what they call Ether-net? Where does that come from?
Anyway, 10:57 am and December 1st. I had forgotten to write the date last night, wanting to get to bed at an earthly hour. Also gives me an opportunity to go over the below, or not, but the title Undressing in December refers to the below, written last night.
Miss the good old days of writing letters, even to my friends living locally but not nearby. I’ve long thought I need a penpal! Again. It will save the USPS, the Royal Mail, Australia Post, and all the other organizations from becoming defunct, if we coukd bring back the joys of letter writing!
Undressing in December.
Today was not the first time I noticed them, but it was the first time I felt this way. A little sad, maybe not a little, more than a little. Today I felt them. Really ‘felt’ them. Rows and rows of them, along the sides of the country lanes. Alone in a field of undulating ground, even the farmland looked lonely. But it was the trees I felt, and felt for.
Standing naked and stark, their branches dried and still. I wished I could put a blanket over them. Now that they’re bare, even the birds do not visit.
I wonder what they feel about the birch trees, some still have their drying foliage of gold medallions clinging to them. They’re among the last to shed, the silver birch. Oh! and what of the firs? Their leaves are all intact. In the tree kingdom I’m sure there’s no jealousy or envy. Do the roots talk beneath the ground?
The trees stand so patiently and seem to say, “We’re just changing, don’t look now..give us some weeks and we will be wearing our pubescent green, which will soon be a full fledged canopy.” But I don’t listen, I look. And the feeling overwhelms me again. I know that intellectually, but can’t shake the feeling of wanting to embrace them somehow and reassure them about something they already know. That’s their cycle of growth, it’s my own ignorance, not theirs. I also know that with the lushness will come the birds, the flowers and the fruits. I foolishly mortal meanwhile indulging in a self importance of sorts.
Thoughts of the bare trees occupy me and I feel them in my body, as though I was in the nude, in my bare bones exposed, not just physically. Some of the trees may face the axe to be kindled and collected for firewood. They stand stoic and undeterred. Always giving, dear precious trees. Why can’t we human beings learn from Nature?
December comes quietly for nature, not much activity, but yes, more hibernation. We humans do the exact opposite. Instead of turning inwards and undressing and discarding our wounds and vices long past and no longer serving us, we do the exact opposite. Party.
We could take cue from Nature and slow down, focus on discarding what will soon be old, instead, we go shopping, go crazy in the frenzy of the acquiring the material. Instead of purging and detoxing, starting with our minds. I personally need to do that, after some dark days, pun intended, with sunset at 4:30 pm.
Perhaps I will reflect on the year gone by already. Where was I and what was I doing in January? And so on. Two new places under my belt. Bologna and Stockholm and surrounds. Also the many local trips often repeat, such as the Cotswolds. First time to Glastonbury, something I had been wanting as have not made it to Sedona. Fascinating town of Cheddar, down deep in the Gorge. Plus more. Got to save some for later.
Meetings strangers who became friends. Çiğdem in Strasbourg and Alia in a Stockholm suburb. The Moroccan girl in the restaurant near our hotel in Frankfurt, who flies home to Morocco every weekend. I admired her fragrance. She wears Musc by Narcisco Rodriguez. I like it so much I buy one at the airport on way out- can’t remember the last time I have purchased perfume for myself. Its been a long time. I have so many already. Beautiful people and we had some lovely long conversations,
Was looking at old photos from 12 years ago, and in many seeing the cobblestones of the places my feet trod upon. Humbling and inspiring. Grateful. Only one trip to Amsterdam this year. Eventful and with two magical encounters. Eating at my first Michelin star at K and A’s insistence, because they had loved SINNE. The word means ‘senses’ in Swedish. Yea, it does no disappoint! Serendipitously, Sweden has held a special appeal this year, and we got to see it in all its moods. Almost all, just not the bitterest winters.
And the magical rainy weekend in AMS, meeting the most interesting Michelin chef on a Sunday night, he was very much part of the magical weekend. Actually I had gotten talking to him, outside a famous ice cream shop as I noticed he was eating the same flavors I chose. Pistachios and pistachio for my two scoops!
Forgot meeting with Emma and her hubby in Bologna, a lovely couple from the UK.
Veenu Banga
December 1, 2024
11:27 pm.
something I had been anticipating, wanting as have not made it to Sedona.
Locally went to Somerset, 9 nights in the middle of nowhere.
