The mind that is not baffled

I just came back from a five-day long skin-charring holiday in the much touted kingdom of wonder. It was dusty. It had limited technology. I semi-managed to cope without Internet [although I still expect the phone bill to haunt me once those furtive glances at web browsing through my mobile gets highlighted]. I drank copious amounts of beers. In my defence, it was dirt cheap. Only in the land of Wats, where bottled water, soft drinks and other assorted liquids are priced higher. The truth is water was truly meant for fishes over there. I was meant to consume eight large glasses of beer every day. 🙂
I smoked as much as I drank beer. I ate whenever hunger caught hold of me. Which is often. Money was of no objection. My thirst, hunger and other vices were never better satisfied. Still, I had time to absorb the culture. Well, sort of. Then I came back, turned my laptop on and one click led to another. I was attracted to the poem by Wendell Berry below.
The Real Work by Wendell Berry
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

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