On winter

I am not a winter person. Growing up in a place that knows 'not much' of winter, Delhi is a climate shock. Imagine having to have a whole new wardrobe for the season. You pack away all you pretty summer clothes, and out comes all the bulky (not so sexy) winter wear. With it comes, the laziness:

'Get up at 6?'             

 What sacrilege?! 

 Read (forget study) late into the night?     

 'What?! Are you out of your mind!' 

 And then there is the washing - more clothes to wash, colder water to do the washing with...

So hey, do you wonder that I am not a winter person. Yet, there is something about winter that makes me... moody. I know, I know, such a typical female thing to say. Still it is the closest I can describe what the season does to me.

Early mornings makes me all lazy and kind of sad. Staring out the bus window on my way to work, I see all the fall colors and a sense of harmony permeates my whole being. I watch toddlers skipping off to school, in colorful sweaters, all plump and full of joy; and I feel like I should hop, skip and jump with them. On nights that remind me of someone, I grow a little sad and wish I were home...

The prayer I always want to remember

Lord, protect our doubts, because Doubt is a way of praying. It is Doubt that makes us grow because it forces us to look fearlessly at the many answers that exist to one question. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our decisions, because making Decisions is a way of praying. Give us the courage, after our doubts, to be able to choose between one road and another. May our YES always be a YES and our NO always be a NO. Once we have chosen our road, may we never look back nor allow our soul to be eaten away by remorse. And in order for this to be possible…
Lord, protect our actions, because Action is a way of praying. May our daily bread be the result of the very best that we carry within us. May we, through work and Action, share a little of the love we receive. And in order for this to be possible…
Lord, protect our dreams, because to Dream is a way of praying. Make sure that, regardless of our age or our circumstances, we are capable of keeping alight in our heart the sacred flame of hope and perseverance. And in order for this to be possible…
Lord, give us enthusiasm, because Enthusiasm is a way of praying. It is what binds us to the Heavens and to Earth, to grown-ups and to children, it is what tells us that our desires are important and deserve our best efforts. It is Enthusiasm that reaffirms to us that everything is possible, as long as we are totally committed to what we are doing. And in order for this to be possible…
Lord, protect us, because Life is the only way we have of making manifest Your miracle. May the earth continue to transform seeds into wheat, may we continue to transmute wheat into bread. And this is only possible if we have Love; therefore, do not leave us in solitude. Always give us Your company, and the company of men and women who have doubts, who act and dream and feel enthusiasm, and who live each day as if it were totally dedicated to Your glory.

Amen

 - Paulo Coelho

Gibberish

 Yesterday : "Find me a fallen star. Go, go, run and lure out that fantastic lore. I want to fall in love, see; So lure out that fantastic lore". 

Today:  "What fallen star? What lore? Love (?) - don't you know it is all  but a fantastical myth :  woven by the dazed bards, with golden sands and silver webs, laced with shiny stars and sparkling rainbows? Don't you know? "

 Save your head, she said. It is quite useful to have around. Throw out all that rubbish. Wake up, life is no dream. 

On possibilities, choices.

Everywhere I look, I see possibilities. The infinite possibilities of me. To choose one is to deny myself the infinity of others. Yet, to not choose is to deny myself every possibility. How then to make a choice?

I googled it. - the one stop search on all questions.

It spat out a slew of quotes on choices. Every  quote contradicting the other one - it was one mess of confusion. I wonder if any of those who wrote that stuff, actually dared to make the choice. My choices are small. I choose to live. I choose to be happy. I choose to be true to myself and all that is in me. I choose to not be used. Every moment, I chose on among the infinite possibilities that can be.

The sad thing about choices, is that there is no one who has to  live with them, except you. With every moment of choice, another of consequence is born. And within that consequence is  another choice - one of attitude this time. Will this spiral of choices never end?

I ask myself, why I make the choices I make? What is it that I am letting these choices make of me? Coz true enough, it is my choices that make me.

A Mer-song

Sometimes, I hear the ocean humming to my ears; then I realize how far from home I am.

I lost myself a little much. A little much I have lost.  I don't know why I did it, all I know is that it's left me dizzy, disoriented. I have lost all sense of who I am, what I will. It is not your fault - not really. I was the fool that hoped, that trusted. I am the fool who took you for my dream.

Why did I ever let anyone become important?!

I need boundaries. I need walls. You are to stay outside.  Stay quiet - I like my peace.  Never again will I let you in. No way will you ever come first again. Hear this, no way! You can do as you will. In my head I have muted you, paused you. Do what you will.

Don't think I am easy.

I was:  for you. There, beneath those trees, near that well trodden path, in a field of rabble, she now lies buried. There is no tombstone marking her passing. All I know, she is gone and I buried her.

I am stripped of her. Now, there is only this bit of me. I have boundaries and I have walls. You will never find me here. Find my walls, find my shell. No, you won't find me.

 Go. Walk free. Head held high. Be whoever you will.

I am me. I don't regret that. Just stay out. I won't let you in.

Go. Walk free. Find your happiness, your place.

I am me.

I am me.

Until I melt into the silent waves and the humming in me is home once again.

A blank page can be a staggering thing. To gather the colorful chaos of images and voices, swirling, shifting, flitting through the mind; and  capture them onto a word, written and  tangible, is to stagger. Yet, I find that today I am compelled to do it. I am encompassed by a strange disquiet. I breathe and it becomes a living thing, fluttering in my chest. 

To you, for inspiring me.

     At times, meeting someone new can give you a new perspective on life. It doesn't matter what your state of mind is right then...you suddenly look on the world with new eyes.

        I am not talking about big things or grant events that descend on you with aplomb; It is more of another ordinary day, and you come upon this person.  Of course, inspiration comes in all forms, shapes and sizes. For me, when we met, inspiration just took the form of a person. Ever since, I have found inspiration in other little things. But this chance meeting, it was the beginning...of something. 

        Imagine this: You are stuck in the routine of life. You do today what you did yesterday and it is going to be same things again tomorrow. At times, if you are lucky, you look at the person you are and wonder ' what am I doing' or  'Is this all there is to life?'; if not, you drift through life oblivious to the monotony of life -- nursing a vague discontent, but never going into the root of it. That was the place I was at. My life was 'ok'. I have a job I do well (sort of)  and it pays my bills. I have friends - good friends. Yet, I am drifting through life, and quite unexpectedly

        I meet you...
      "  I never felt alone, till I met you
        I'm alright on my own
        And then I met you
        And I'd know what to do
        If I just knew, what's comin'

        I would change myself if I could
        I walk with my people if I could find them
        And I'd say that I'm sorry to you
       I'm sorry to you

       And I don't wanna call you
      But then I wanna call you....

A strange tumble of unfamiliar emotion, of conflicting, contradicting, tumultuous thoughts defined me. I am me, but yet I find myself wondering who am I.  Amidst all this angst and unwanted strife, I found a piece of me that I didn't know existed. I found the inspiration, the will, the need to accept and be.

'No matter what'- what comes, what goes, what happens, what does not - know this: you inspired me. If only for one moment, you gave me a bit of me. This then is a thank you - one you will never read. Nevertheless, it is here and it remains a silent testimony to my moment of inspiration.