Concerning light and shadow
I tend to label some of my acquaintances as Sunrays and some others as Dementors. In principle, I have always been opposed to labeling. However, I have realized that, in practice, I feel no qualms doing it myself. What I am really opposed to is others labeling me and mine. T will say "at least he is honest about it", while B will just consider it as another proof of how I am "full of hubris, as ever".
Anyways, back to Sunrays and Dementors. Sunrays are people who make others happy. In contrast, Dementors, as we all know, suck away happiness. There is a third category: the Balrog, who are both light and darkness at the same time, but that is matter for another post.
Of course, the same person might be a Sunray for one and a Dementor for another. I certainly am a Dementor for most of my acquaintances, when all the time the intention is precisely the opposite. But "intentions don't matter, only actions do."
But this post is not about Dementors; it's about Sunrays, one Sunray in fact.
So it was an overcast and chilly morning in Cambridge and I had just received a mail from one of the top Dementors of all time. Much cold and much depressed, I feel a coffee could fix things. So I go to the kitchen, on the way been greeted by the usual surprise on G's face ("Why is this guy still around? I thought his internship had ended way ago.") and complete non-recognition-of-existence from A. I try to open a new milk can and its opening-handle-thingy breaks. "These bleeping cans!"
And she sweeps in wearing that mild perfume of hers and her sudden, true smile. (Surprisingly, all of my Sunrays are female, with the brightest one in London.) She takes a knife and neatly opens the can and says "yeah this happens" and we go on and share a joke about Madame Tussuad's. It's a full half hour before I remember that sad email and somehow it does not matter any longer.
Now I want a Sunray of my own, and avoiding the mist is the least of the reasons.
Anyways, back to Sunrays and Dementors. Sunrays are people who make others happy. In contrast, Dementors, as we all know, suck away happiness. There is a third category: the Balrog, who are both light and darkness at the same time, but that is matter for another post.
Of course, the same person might be a Sunray for one and a Dementor for another. I certainly am a Dementor for most of my acquaintances, when all the time the intention is precisely the opposite. But "intentions don't matter, only actions do."
But this post is not about Dementors; it's about Sunrays, one Sunray in fact.
So it was an overcast and chilly morning in Cambridge and I had just received a mail from one of the top Dementors of all time. Much cold and much depressed, I feel a coffee could fix things. So I go to the kitchen, on the way been greeted by the usual surprise on G's face ("Why is this guy still around? I thought his internship had ended way ago.") and complete non-recognition-of-existence from A. I try to open a new milk can and its opening-handle-thingy breaks. "These bleeping cans!"
And she sweeps in wearing that mild perfume of hers and her sudden, true smile. (Surprisingly, all of my Sunrays are female, with the brightest one in London.) She takes a knife and neatly opens the can and says "yeah this happens" and we go on and share a joke about Madame Tussuad's. It's a full half hour before I remember that sad email and somehow it does not matter any longer.
Now I want a Sunray of my own, and avoiding the mist is the least of the reasons.