Light

Last night I was happily toddling along to the geek quiz, with Maria, talking about my round of questions, and suddenly I was being handed a bag of treasure - candles, and chocolate, and an actual real-life Diwali card signed by lots of people, all from ou3fs. It was dark, so I was able to sniffle undisturbed all the way up Broad Street.

Like I said last night, only much more incoherently, no one's ever done anything like this for me before. I find Diwali more upsetting than fun, usually, because it's a reminder that I am a) hundreds of miles from my family and b) thousands of miles from my origins. And that people could do this for me just makes me incoherent and gooey with love.

Tonight, jacinthsong came over and helped me light my candles. This is what it looked like:

( Diwali mubarek )

College can complain all they like, I really don't care. It was beautiful. I got Liya and Ben and Pat and Pat's mum, who is visiting from Spain, in to look at how pretty it was, and they wished me a happy Diwali and I tried to tell them the Diwali story form the Ramayana, with some little success, and then the stories my mum told me when I was very young. (Speaking of my mum, she rang to tell me specifically that she'd made most of my favourite things for Diwali, and why wasn't I there to eat it. I love my mum a lot.) The idea, I guess, briefly explained, is that the lights are for Lakshmi, Hindu goddess of prosperity and love. She comes down to earth for one night, and the lights are to welcome her in. That's why they are left in windows, mostly, and on either side of the front door. And they are also left in each room of a house that should be blessed, so I went around last night as it was getting dark and left one with each of my flatmates, to burn for a blessing.

( more lights )

I've never felt like this before - like it was my festival, and that it was celebrated by the people I love, in the context and grounding of my life, like it's my life here, too, that's blessed. So much love, today. Someone gave me an anonymous LJ gift, which I see is marked by LJ as a Diwali lantern - thank you, anonymous giver, it's very sweet, and happy Diwali to you too.

And in addition to this, I went to pick up my post today and found two bags of Thornton's chocolate-covered toffee in my pidge. So did Maria. So did jacinthsong and absinthe_shadow and me_ves_y_sufres. I have my suspicious as to whom it may be. But that's not the point. Thank you, too, whoever you are.

So much love. So, so much love. I blew out my candles eventually, and went into the kitchen to sit with my flatmates, mellowed with wine and pancakes, and eventually the conversation turned to the things it generally does at three in the morning, which Pat's mum is very interested in, and she asked me, "What is philosophy?"

"Who we are and where we come from," I said, promptly; it's my rote answer. But no, she said, what about philosophy in everyday life, what about the flash of doubt when you wake up in the morning - who am I, and how did I get here? And is there a God who arranged it?

I don't know, I said, but I know what you mean; I think that flash is a human thing, that means we are human, that asking these questions is always important. That's what I think when I stop, mid-sentence, and realise all at once that I exist. She said: I was brought here at this time to this place to learn this from you.

And in the dim light, and the afterimages of the flames, it seemed a strange thing to say; strange and strangely appropriate. This is not a religion, I say over and over; I don't believe in what I believe as an article of faith. But this is important. Lights in my window are important. And people are, too.