Another b’day, another unsolicited post. It’s become a tradition and since I am a bhartiya nari I have to uphold it.
So what have I learnt this past year? Absolutely nothing, a tiny voice says in my head.
Have I done the things I set out to do? No. Have I changed in any way that benefits me? Prolly not. Have I started making healthier choices? Hell no.
But I exist. And for now that is enough.
The italians have this phrase (made popular by Eat Pray Love) dolce far niente. Although I am pretty sure it isn’t a substitute for “you’re just being lazy, buttface” even if I’d like it to be. It’s the sweetness of doing nothing.
I’d like that. To be nothing. To be a cherry blossom in the wind drifting, stark white against blue. To be the tree that bends. To be that first drop of rain hitting the earth and creating that absolutely lovely smell. To be that lone stone rolling in a vast desert.
I’d like to be free from the shackles of time and dates and people and places.But I would also like to wake up and do more and be more. Be enough.
As I move forward every year is a cruel reminder of the time gone by.
But I exist. And for this fleeting moment that is enough.
Well, on to the next one!
‘Walking a path’, ‘a hard journey’ or the colloquial ‘haters gonna hate’ are some of cliches attributed to living one’s life. Why reduce this monumental thing to a frivolous phrase?
Life is something that chokes you, performs the heimlich and then chokes you again. Funny how this applies to love as well.
It’s something that breaks you until you can’t get back up and then forces you to get back up. How the fuck does that count for a lesson? I haven’t learned shit. How do I make it leave an impact? How do I change?
Yes, yes, change is gradual blah blah blah and asking questions is first step et cetera but is it really the first step if I have done this a million other times?
And I can laugh now, joke around, hoping I still get my letter but now my fantasies border on schizophrenia.
Making the same mistakes has now become my forte. So, forgive me if I resort to cliches but
It’s all downhill from here.
I started reading again.
This wasn’t premeditated. Yesterday morning I woke up early and I plucked a book off of my very dusty bookshelf. A green cover, bold font, stack of pillows and a glass of lemonade was all it took.
And I finished it in the morning itself.
It had been a year since I had read a book but it felt like a decade. So was it a joyous reunion? Did my fingers rejoice at the feel of those seemingly never ending pages? Did my eyes glisten as I read those tiny words crammed into a page? I think I need glasses.
Anyway, it was a confusing, mixed state of mind that I ended the book in, incidentally which had nothing to do with its contents.
After years of being an introvert bookworm, I had begun preferring my laptop to reading. And I actually uttered the following words: I’d rather watch the movie than read the book. Sacrilegious, I know!
I literally stuck to my precious laptop like a leech. I lost myself in hours of movies and TV series.
I think it was because I forgot how to imagine, to build a world inside my head.
Or I just became impatient.
Here’s hoping this sticks.