Tag Archives: Existential

Today’s Musings

7 Apr

I woke up to a tranquil 20 degree, windy morning today. The sun has begun to appear much earlier than its erstwhile comfortable (give or take) 7:45 am winter slot; now dawning upon us at a crisp 6:15 am, or earlier. Of course I’ve no idea when daybreak really happens because left up to me and my sloth, I’m not an early riser by routine or by desire. Far from, actually. It’s just that summer has arrived sooner than we expected or even wanted, making the slender fingers of dawn reach out to us with a greater sense of urgency, unless one wishes to wake up feeling like they slept through half the day, even if it’s just 8:30am on the clock. Summer early mornings, especially in places with extreme temperatures, are a treat. They are peaceful, chirpy, alive, active, colourful, soothing…till the gripping white sheet of heat takes over and paralyses everything in its grasp into stillness. It’s no wonder summer mornings call out to each of us, coaxing us to come alive, leaving our lazy winter hibernation ways behind.

Today was one of those mornings where I (with the power of magic) rose before it was too late. There is something special about swaying trees beginning their day with a dance and song, with birds and squirrels basking in the peace of dawn simultaneously getting all their work done – eating, pecking, fluffing themselves up, scurrying – just being idle and busy at the same time. It was only natural to share my first cup of tea out in the open with them. Small joys, special privileges…all of us have them, that’s for sure.

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It already feels like half the day’s over and gone, what with so much already done with. Armed with my mug of filter coffee, which now feels too hot and heavy to drink thanks to the heat, and my two toasts, my day feels like it has a sense of purpose. It feels more productive, especially when you get a lot done in such short amounts of time, minus any distractions. I’m not promoting early mornings given that this is a live and let live space. But since I’ve spent the last four years of my professional life waking up way before the sun at a gloomy 5am, thanks to my work requirements, rising early out of the blue doesn’t feel as alien or harsh as it can be to a non-early riser. It took some effort but felt easier with time. Of course not every day was easy, not when it was raining outside or when you’d had a late evening the night before. But it was a part of my routine – to get so much done by 8am – right from waking up (it is a task!!) to exercising to showering to getting to work – all done…it always left me feeling extremely accomplished on the routine front. If there wasn’t a sense of routine and compulsion, I would never really engage in that sort of cruelty.

I’ve been procrastinating on a lot of stuff and (very unsurprisingly) I feel like I haven’t dilly-dallied enough. I’m great at that sort of stuff without even trying too hard. However, it is a different story when panic sets in and the pressure starts to build. Being a creature of habit, especially when it is more enforced and less voluntary, seems to work for me. I’m certain that everything which needed my attention and its consequent completion would’ve long happened had there been a set timeline, a goal. It’s not like timelines and goals help much on the procrastination front though. Despite trying very hard to instill some sort of order into my life (because it is so easy to have no rules and let laziness take over), there is so much that needs to be done because I’m stuck in some sort of horrid limbo, as if I’m walking on a silly treadmill, going absolutely nowhere.

Speaking of which, distractions are too many. Even though I’m not on Facebook and hardly check Twitter or ever switch the television on during the day or even take an afternoon nap, I’ve no idea what distracts me from doing what must be done. I haven’t finished a single book in a long time which would be a very valid reason for keeping my other work at bay, but since it isn’t that, I really need to fish this distraction out and throw it far away.

I’m leaning towards the conviction that my thoughts and habit of overthinking are the main culprits.

Nevertheless, when all feels incomplete and when I feel unproductive and inadequate, I coincidentally come across these various signs that tell me the things I need to hear; words from someone other than me that come and tell me to slow my mind down. Maybe being too hard on myself is a way I punish myself for being at home all day…to haul my sense of self out and give it beating just because I do not sit inside an office and waste my life away. This sort of unlearning is so hard to do…the unlearning of what validates and what defines us…the relearning of giving time its place and giving patience a chance. I am trying.

When it all feels very gloomy, impossible and grey, I turn to things that calm me down and make me feel very normal once again. It was sometime back when I came across Molly and her Doodles…they are most inspirational and motivating. When I least expect it, they appear and seem to say the exact thing I need to see, read, hear. Here’s one that I’m posting now because it speaks to me and keeps reminding me to follow suite.

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I always dream of doing something like this – stuff that materializes from outcomes of our everyday life and living; stuff that makes you feel fulfilled, complete, and most importantly, giving. Something that makes me feel like a bigger person, living her life and taking each hand she’s been dealt, with confidence and faith.

Maybe if I rein in and hold the ropes of procrastination tighter, this could be a reality. Someday.

Learning: Why is collapse/failure/nothingness so debilitating instead of being healing and strengthening? When did we allow change to make us fearful instead of free?

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Poem to Myself

6 Apr

When did you last embrace
all that was yours and written for you?

Especially when so much from near and far
has come your way, right on cue.

 

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Did the waves you let lap your feet
never root your toes deeper in its sands?

When was the last time
you took your world into your own hands?

Learning To Unlearn And Relearn

29 Mar

Isn’t that what moving forward is all about anyway? It’s astounding how these simple concepts are gems we store for later, more intellectual conversations and situations, oftentimes overlooking their importance in being applied to life every single day. I’ll speak for myself at least. I cannot remember a time when the necessity to unlearn and relearn something wasn’t used and just what a life saver the flexibility to do so, is.

But I admit, I never imagined the need to do the same to other more crucial facets of my life, my functioning, my relationships, my perceptions, and my wellbeing altogether. Perhaps it was the luxury of living with family all my life which made me so ignorant, until now, when I’m not living under the same roof as them, and have a lot of my shit to figure out on my own. Where did this shit land up from anyway, I wonder, because the last time I checked, all was dandy, all was fine, all was the opposite of sandpapery, if I may.

I haven’t been hitched too long, but it has taken me faster than I fathomed to figure out that – not everything will go your way or as you’ve been used to, and you’d be foolish to expect it. So here I am, trying to unlearn and relearn a lot that I had conveniently assumed I was a master at. How presumptuous of me.

To be more specific, here are some things I’m currently learning, unlearning and relearning:

Not all close relationships are the same and therefore not all close relationships can be handled the same way. You may want to say du-h! at this point in time, and perhaps you should, because I thought otherwise.

Nobody, no matter how close to you, is the same as anybody else…so responses from x are very highly likely to be different from y, even though you behaved the same way with both parties, at the same time, in the same place and under the same circumstances.

In connection with the previous point, time plays a major factor, as do priorities. To elucidate, person y may not necessarily be forgiving to you for stealing a slice of bacon from their plate the second or third time around, unlike earlier times when they didn’t really care about bacon as much. Perhaps they’re really in the mood for bacon and don’t feel like sharing, perhaps they love bacon unlike their previous preference, perhaps they’re saving it for somebody else, perhaps their bacon sharing priorities have changed – always give room for consideration. Also, point to note – it doesn’t really mean you’re loved any less. It just means that time and priorities change everything sometimes.

(Fine example, Babska. Fine one, indeed!)

Not getting a reply, especially via SMS, especially when you’re used to this form of instantaneous gratification in that category, does not mean you are not loved or cared for anymore. (Big learning!) This may make you want to run back and thank all those lovely people who actually make the effort to respond to you when you want them to, which is usually instantly, right?

Responses to a situation which you imagine are natural and instinctual even, may not really be natural to the actual person whom you’re expecting that said response from. I always imagine my husband to respond to certain things in ways that I am used to because that is how my family responds to me in those situations…but seldom are they the same, or rarely is there a match in these responses. If it matters that much, and as hard as it may be for one’s ego, it does help to spell out how you expect a response to be rather than let the waterworks flow some more and still not get what you want. It’s true.

Your comfort food or ideas of comfort food may not be comforting (at all) to somebody else. Be prepared to compromise on that sort of thing or make two meals or eat alone – whichever is worth battling over. Yes, the heartbreak on learning that my husband doesn’t really care about khichdi too much was a hard one to take.

Again, your idea of cleanliness is definitely never going to be the same as anyone else’s. I think that’s a universal law of absolute crappiness, if you ask me. If you’re used to things being xyz, somebody else may be used to abc, while another person may not be used to the concept of cleanliness at all. Who can say? It’s a tough one.

I guess the basic premise of all this unlearning and relearning is the fact that A LOT of what you imagine or expect or even plan in your head has a 99.90% chance of not being the way you want it to be. I’ve fought many a battle (only to sound dramatic) because when you are so removed from what is known to you, or away from the norm of how things are done, or even disconnected from a certain routine, the friction can sometimes be too painful. Sometimes things go our way, and a lot of the times, they don’t.

Which brings me to this main point:

Learning how to not be so much of a control freak, especially in the many areas I can afford to let go off without much heartburn or effort. It’s some nasty business for a control freak to be at a point where no control can be claimed for a lot of things. And I think it comes with these fundamental building blocks of sanity:

Letting go
Acceptance
COMPROMISE
Being selective of the battles you pick
Demolishing one’s EGO

I reckon anybody who can do even one, if not all of the above, is definitely headed down the road of peace.

Before leaving Bangalore to get married, I went about meeting people who really matter to my family and me – many friends, family friends and some acquaintances. Through these many meetings, I sponged off of them as much as I could – their learning, their thoughts, their advice, their words of wisdom. The most humbling and soulful piece of advice I was given was from an acquaintance whose words still ripple on my consciousness every time it feels like I know nothing at all. Dear reader, his pearls of wisdom are as follows:

Learn to be like water which can flow even around the biggest boulders and seep through the tiniest gap…be like water which can meander, bend, take any shape and form…be like water – life-giving, thirst-ridding, sustaining… be like water who doesn’t speak but whose presence is always felt, forever needed… be like water who when she wants, can make her voice heard the loudest and still be calming. Learn to be like water and you will always bear fruit.

Learning: The treasury of wisdom comes from constantly learning.

From Where I Stand

28 Mar

Spring has come and gone.

It’s getting hot hot hot.

Too hot to now get out for a casual stroll or even for essentials.

It seems like only I’m standing still and the rest of the world couldn’t be moving at a faster pace.

The air hangs around languorously, still almost, quieter still.

My body is slowly but surely showing signs for the need to align my diet to become more summer friendly.

I will still always be a dal chawal girl and no salad can make me feel otherwise.

Everything looks and feels very certain even in all this present uncertainty. How?

There is no grass to compare shades of its greenery to. I guess it’s a good thing.

I’m not missing Facebook. It’s been 28 days and there isn’t even a hint of wanting it just yet.

From where I stand, it looks like a path for me to walk on has been created, I’m very certain of that. What that path is or how I’m to find it, is what the grey area is. Sometimes this quest for that path leaves me sleepless, tossing about and wondering exactly where it is that I’m supposed to go. Like I said, I’ve never felt more certain in my life even when I’m steeped in my present uncertainties. It was only when I was told by my husband’s friend and his friend’s wife about how brave it really is to leave your all – job included – and just move lock, stock and barrel, did my perspectives on being so harsh on myself change. I’m not as worried about getting a job, because that’s the easy part, really. 

From where I stand today, and while so many things remain unclear, the one thing that couldn’t be more evident is the fact that I can say no to whatever it is that I do not want. Breaking off has that advantage, I’m gradually beginning to realize. When you are at a time and place where all your peers, friends and people your age are climbing the many ladders they choose to climb or are compelled to climb, the rat race suddenly seems even more urgent, more necessary even…just so there is conformity, there is a routine, there is a sense of identification.

From where I stand, it looks like everything is so still and so fast-paced simultaneously. This mind-bend, this illusion is transitory, I hope?

This quote featured on a blog which I haven’t been able to find ever since (so annoying!) made me ease up, breathe better and relax. It isn’t just a mere coincidence to come across something you need to see…there are signs everywhere, and they come to each of us when we’re too lost or too blinded to see…a belief I hold very dear to my heart…enough to find immense truth and gratitude in it.

 Learning: Look straight ahead. Wear blinkers to alleviate your blindness.

On Change

22 Mar

Days are whirling past us all like the dust storms my city is currently a witness to. If I were working, I would be engulfed by the luminescence of my computer screen, carpeing every diem to clock another mile stone along the way, another quarter of a year’s life, getting to yet another set of goals and targets that I’d have to figure out ways to knock out of the park, as my ex manager would say. Everybody has so many ways to measure time. Even nature changes her cloaks and dresses when the time to change finally does arrive.

Speaking of which, I did post a picture on Instagram today of a pretty marvellous experience. It was this not so big, not so overpowering, far from oak-like tree, laden only with seed pods and nothing else. Except that even this tree with its bare minimum costume, had the most pronounced and engaging harmony, spell-binding enough for anyone to take notice of the chorus of its dancing seed pods, reverberating with celebrations…perhaps of change…something not many of us celebrate or even look forward to. And was it a sight, an experience, a moment to absorb and internalize.

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I’m not very flexible or welcoming of change and its many agents. I have to admit that I shirk the idea of newness much more than I desire change, whenever I do i.e. I’m one of those specimens that fears change, almost feeling its rugged edges scratching the smooth surface of comfort I’ve wrapped all around me. It’s another thing that I make change look like a chainsaw about to gnarl and rip through my plushly cushioned bubble, which it of course, needn’t always be.

However, as much as I love change, not, every single day has been different. Every single day has an unexpected visitor, a facet that I’ve never seen before. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m married or because I’m in a new place or because I’m not at a job or because the universe wants to catch a few laughs at my cost…I’m not entirely sure really. But change, there has been, and by the truckloads.

It has made me more quiet, more contemplative, more watchful, more intuitive. Sometimes it has made me rebellious, angry, vengeful, sad. Through its many arrivals and departures, it has taught me to let go in ways I never ever imagined existed. It made me realise that the concept of letting go which I’ve been talking about all along as if I was some pro, was just the tip of an iceberg…so shallow, so deceptive, yet very present and real. Change has shown me the importance and necessity of embracing it, sometimes at the overwhelming cost of yourself…to peel those carefully placed layers within yourself, so you can be open, vulnerable, more receptive to what it really has in store is a chore and something my (bruised) ego detests most often (haha!)…it is such a game most often. Most importantly, it has taught me that it will be only as hard or as easy as you make it to be. But then again, isn’t everything dependent on perception?

I never really come out here to talk about the serious stuff or to make my blog look like a boring college book nobody wants to read. But the thing is, writing has this immense capacity to be cathartic…it always has been for me…an act that provides me solace, peace and so much room to explore like nothing else has. It’s so natural, so easy sometimes…and yet so impossible and absent a lot of the other times. There are always so many questions, so many whys, whats and how comes…most of them immediately quietened with the punch of letters on a keyboard, others humbled into submission either to stop existing or to stop mattering altogether. So it’s only natural that this space becomes therapeutic while you, dear reader, engage with me and hopefully find some catharsis along with me.

Becoming

20 Jan

I wasn’t prepared to write today. I was in bed just moments ago, trying to get through a book I’ve been savouring but prolonging beyond necessary. My Kindle says I’m about 30 minutes from completing it. And so I left it because 30 minutes isn’t much especially when something stirs you to get up from bed, haul yourself to the laptop and get back again; to write. It’s a blessing.

I’ve been reading Eat, Pray, Love (after having watched the movie first, in one of those rare switches that happens). It has agitated me from time to time which is why I’m unsure if 30 minutes will really be the 30 minutes the world of time knows. Perhaps. But then the book has left me in so many places at once – good places that make me put my book down and explore my new-found lands. Lands that have stars and contentment and peace and questions and sandy beaches and explorations and bicycle rides and magic and giving and taking… lands that make me think about the universe, of life, of sensibilities, of experiences, of exultation, of emotions. It’s all too much to find yourself amid. But it’s poetry nonetheless. And I’d like to use the word poetry because it’s as decipherable as the next enigma. There lie so many questions and so many answers and possibilities and so many chances and opportunities… it’s a marvelous place to be lost in and let go in, because it’s poetry.

Talking about poetry, I’m a part of this one group that sits a little at the edge of the others that fill in the spaces of my small universe. I’d like to think of it that way – just aptly situated at the edge of a starry universe where one talks about life, love, magic, the heart’s love affairs, the mind’s midnight walks, and beer. I’m not sure how the conversation began but it invariably led to poetry. I think we were discussing this concept Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in her book – something on the lines of “being a drop in the ocean and the ocean being in a drop” – which revolves around the concept of our soul and working on it, to some extent and in a singular perception, of course.

But isn’t that poetic? To think of us not just as a drop in the ocean but to realize that the ocean is in a drop too? How magnificent in its ability to change perspectives and highlight the beauty of the whole, the concept of infinity (which was also something we were simultaneously talking about on the group as well) and the image of a continuum.

I connect this to poetry because of its diverse ability to give as you wish to take; for who can be a poet except someone who allows those one-minded walls to free-fall and become fluid? I’m not sure if I’m making sense but you understand what encountering poetry does to you, right? It makes me levitate, to simply put it… it enables me to drift and explore meanings that tremble like leaves and flower petals waiting to be touched, smelt, felt.

Who else can be a poet but someone who can become and allow becoming? To manifest and to allow manifestation. To grow and to allow blossoming. To live and to allow life. What else can poetry be but sharing?

It was through this that one of them shared their poems which, when I chanced my senses on it, made me want to come here and write. And share. Because you should read it. And dive into it. And let it take you places you may like to visit but haven’t yet. I’m also giving you the music that took him to where he was when he wrote this and which could possibly do the same to you too. Thank you for allowing me to share this, A-man.

I LIVE AGAIN
(By ASP)

While the plastic bags do their dance in wind,
I bind, unbind and bind again.
For little mercies and Her mightiness,
I close my eyes and live again.

What one saw is what’s on the mind,
And there She was, sweet-singing glee.
I walked to Her and asked for me,
She sang her song and let me be!

Then a story and once more a song,
And this time I knew, she wasn’t just the sound or smell.
The ocean was a drop and dense as well,
Exploded, eroded, I let it dwell.

The time was when time stood still,
There was space and continuum too.
All I am is also a rock or hill,
I waited for light to dawn and fill.

In her tactful whisper she yelled at me,
Hey you, close your eyes and live again.

Now tell me, isn’t there poetry in sharing? And becoming?

4.5 Or Even 2.

1 May

I think I had an epiphany which is why I left what I was doing and have come here to write. That’s the thing with mid-week holidays… it’s a holiday but whilst it’s so close to the weekend, it doesn’t feel like we’re there yet because there’s so much work to get done. So while I was in the middle of finishing off some stuff, I came here because that light bulb came on.

Call it the wave of inspiration or something cooler, if you want to, but I think I’m surfing that wave because I continue to feel inspired at the most random times. It’s an amazing feeling really. It’s such an instant pick-me-up from the actual shambles my life could possibly be that it makes me not care. And while riding this wave, it hit me that I feel so good about my self and my capabilities and life, in general, because I’m surrounded by people who make me feel this way. There is absolutely no ambiguity in the way I feel and the causes to my feeling so, so good.

And when I tried digging deeper into what this existential adrenaline shot was, I almost instantly figured it was the people I chose to watch, listen to, be around who made me feel what I still do. Is that an eye-opener or is that an eye-opener? Have I been surrounding myself with the wrong kind of people all this while?

I do not mean to say that these inspirational people have spot on lives that click magically like clockwork. We’re, in fact, all in the same boat. But there is a difference. Also, this does not automatically imply that the people I’ve been surrounded by aren’t worth it. It’s just that I guess we need to have different people in our life at the times we do. It really needs to happen. There’s a reason we ought to move out of the nest and do our own thing. There’s a reason why these phases of our lives have been written down in the pages of time and apply to each and every generation that walks the walk of life. There’s a reason why theories of human development have become classical theories of development; because they really do apply to us all at so many levels. I do believe, like how these theorists believe, that every phase needs its resolution before a new one comes by. The fact that I’m still living so many phases unresolved aside, I think there’s a time for everything. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it.

Talking about feeling inspired, I don’t know if there’s a particular feeling one’s supposed to feel or a certain set of things one is supposed to do. All I do know right now is that maybe this sense of moving forward (or wherever) stems from taking a step away from where I’m standing at present. Because given everything that’s going on and how I ought to do xyz at this phase of my life, I’m slowly but quite surely beginning to not care. I wouldn’t term it as rebellion because I’m not doing this in order to get something from somebody else. I’m beginning to not care because I need to not care anymore and I need to not care to move in whichever direction I please.

While not caring can sound childish or even immature, I think given the baggage we automatically carry and are bestowed to carry, it just means having to let go and not be enmeshed anymore. Because we’re all more tied down to so, so many things and people and shoulds and musts, that we’re living the needs of others. Think about it. Maybe we’re obligated by good reason. But really, are we? What’s a good reason to be enmeshed with somebody else, so much so that you’re stuck at every step you take because of the way somebody else feels about that step you choose to take?

Somewhere along the way, I’ve begun to stop caring as much and not feel guilty for not caring. I feel less apologetic, guilty and tied down because I needn’t have to. I needn’t have to comply. I needn’t have to go the way somebody wants me to. I just needn’t. And the thought of it is liberating enough. It’s overwhelming to think how bound we really, really are, and subconsciously so. It’s tough to break free of that and I wonder if we ever will be completely free except that’s a wonder too large to accommodate and deal with.

Therefore, the inspiration I guess. Because really, those people who stand out there doing their own thing and living their dream for themselves are quite often the ones who are standing alone unless you’re bloody blessed. It’s a tough call. But it’s inspiring to know that that even if we don’t (get to) go the whole nine yards, that we have the option to go 4.5. Or even 2. And that’s the thought I’m holding on to. Have a lovely week, folks!

Random Musings

15 Apr

I don’t know why I write and why I don’t. I’ve tried introspecting but I don’t think I’m ready to clutter my mind with anything more.

I’m not made up of love poems or song lyrics that profess love. My previous post was the result of some God-awesome music that came my way and facilitated that much needed writing to take place. Who would’ve thought something like that would emerge? Of course I do dream of being half as awesome but there’s a fat chance lying around waiting for me to grab it. Not.

On the topic of love and everything related to it, I feel like I’ve lost touch, and so bad. I think I belong to that section of my generation that refuses to give its heart out, even for a test drive. So weird. And we think we’re fearless. I think we’re masters at sailing the Ship of Fear. Ironic. That’s what defines this generation, if you ask me. I see it in my self, I see it in the people all around me. This pseudo fearlessness is such a turn off. I wonder when we’ll just get real and get ready to scrape that heart a tad bit and just play.

Times have been interesting. I feel alive. I feel like I’m where I should’ve been sometime back. But I think things take time and happen when they have to. It’s true. That darn phrase is true – when it’s time, it will happen (with the added condition of “if it’s meant to”). I’ve become a believer of timing. But being who I am doesn’t allow me to give those reins away that easily. I still believe we’re part masters of our fate. And that isn’t going to change. No, I don’t have authority issues. Yes, I do have control issues. But this boils down to how much you credit yourself and value your self to be. And that answer can never be zero in my book. That’s a never I’m dead sure of saying.

While on that same continuum, I’ve also begun despising this entire concept of hope. It turns me off. There’s a falsity in it that almost makes me angry. Because I’m a believer of having that harsh truth out there and doing something about it than living in the bubble of hope that may or may not work. I’m not okay with hope. It’s pretend play. It’s fake. It’s making someone ride on a bike that’s made up of air, magically expecting it to turn into the bike of your dreams. While that might float one’s boat in dire times, it’s something I find very hard to digest. Maybe it’s because of the expectations that being hopeful allows you to have. Really, I am a cynic, but I’m being real here. There’s no point hiding behind a veil and praying. There’s a point in working and working hard. There’s a point in believing in yourself. And there’s a point in knowing that not everything will turn out the way we envisioned them to be.

This reminds me… time has constantly reinforced the need for me to believe in my own self. You’re only ever answerable to your individual self. I don’t know what happens at the end, and whether Judgment happens or not, but it matters to just believe. Because who else do you turn to when you’ve got no answers? What else to you record in pages of your book except what you’ve done to arrive at where you are today? I do not discount the efforts of others that have contributed to our arriving wherever we need to…but just how we easily thank a billion factors and people for making us get to where we are, why is it so hard to understand that we’re where we are also because of who we are and what we’ve done? How is that selfish? How is that being self-centered? How is that not okay? Yes, while the universe conspires in its own way and makes magic happen, I’m beginning to realize that we’re right there, in that moment too. We’re probably the ones holding the wand or saying the right words or being the right person. We’ve got to have done something right. We have. And I’m thankful we have.

I’ve been meaning to write but it hasn’t been happening. And I don’t know why. Moments (my previous post), was written as a result of some God-awesome music someone I know played. I guess I needed that release. Look what it turned out to be. I guess I was shocked looking at it too. Love and me…we don’t really see eye to eye a lot. But I’m so thankful for music. When everything else fails, music really does shine through. Music really is the magic language of the universe.

Here’s me wrapping up this rather random but heartfelt post. I guess this I’ll write more when I’m up to it. In the mean time, I’m continuing to drift the stream of consciousness way. Thank you for listening. :)

Intuition

22 Mar

Intuition. That’s what pushes us to surge forward or take that step back at that last millisecond. It’s what stays rock solid; unwavering through every single thought and emotion that may arise to conflict or fight it. It’s what stays unfaded way after the moment passes. It’s what comes into power when we need that last piece of advice, that last vote of confidence. It’s what appears from nowhere; unwarranted, unexpected, unapologetically uninhibited.

It’s what sails us through. It’s what we all have but fail to give the importance it deserves. Sometimes. If you’ve been, or are, the intuitive sort who goes with your gut almost every single time, you’re an expert at gauging your senses or maybe you’ve just got a rock-solid faith in yourself. It’s applause-worthy.

Have you ever figured you ought to have listened to your inner voice earlier? Has that inner voice, no matter how soft or subtle, been right, been bang on? I’ve felt it every single time even if I didn’t heed it in the moment.

I’m here not to talk about the miracles of listening to your own self. Neither am I here to preach. I’m here to recognize its power and say just how grateful I am because I’m glad I listened. This one time, at least. Because I stuck to it from the very beginning.

Life has this weird way of making us meet all kinds of people. In retrospect, I guess these people walk our way because we need to realize just how much trash is out there and how important it is to listen to our inner voice. Maybe this is life’s way of helping us be more sensitive to what we’ve been blessed with; to recognize when it’s okay to be stupid and when it’s not, to know when it’s time to walk that path our intuition points towards even if that means having to walk it alone.

Have you ever made “friends” and walked each day with them with that itch knowing something isn’t as right as it should be or should feel like? Have you ever been faced head on with a moment where you trust and bare it all or hold back at the cost of straining relationships? And have you kept your guard up and felt nothing but confident, as opposed to guilt? Isn’t it exhilarating to know you really do not have to fit in at all times, that you can stand out and be pointed fingers at but that you kept your integrity intact, that you didn’t give in because it was the trend to give in?

Call it growing up or learning how to survive this world which is filled with trash where one man’s food is another man’s poison. While it comes at the very (so called) expensive cost of losing out on a lot, it’s reassuring to know that through it all, you managed just fine. That that one sense which probably has the most meek voice, is in fact what helps move mountains. And when you look back eventually, if you care to, you realize that the stuff you thought you missed out on was really just that trash’s trash.

It’s important to make that distinction. It’s important to know the difference between being alone and conforming for the sake of being “accepted”. It’s important to know when it’s alright and when it’s not alright. It’s absolutely okay. Because, in the end, you do emerge unscathed and untouched. There’s no wonder they call it the sixth sense; the one that powers through it all, that makes you rise, even if they’re ashes you’re rising from. Or trash cans, as it were.

Here’s more power to each and every one of us who’s walked the path not taken. Here’s keeping the faith. Here’s moving forward on the road we choose to walk on. Life is such a weird journey. Big love and gratitude all through. <3

IMG_7845 Goa 15 IMG_6143 Acceptance and Admittance My worldview