this week’s Thought (singular)
why would you fold your blanket in the morning if you’re going to nap again in three hours
a very warm welcome to all new readers. i love new readers so much that whenever i get an email about a new reader, i manifest that the outfit they’ve been planning to wear for a Thing is ironed. thank you for joining us. may you not start getting ready too late, realise with horror that it’s horribly crinkled, and have to figure out something else to wear in short notice.
a very warm welcome to old readers as well. may good sense continue to prevail.
hi
apologies for the recent absence. time seems to be a very small bag and i am trying to fit too many things inside it.
i’ve been nostalgic for an older time lately—or is it an older space? i think i’ve been confusing the two. maybe more accurately, i’ve been nostalgic for familiarity. for known people, places, and feelings. for home as all of those things. for ease and surety and no need for second-guessing. growing up feels a lot like returning to childhood. i’m learning the basics of a million things at once all over again, like every day is my first day on earth. i’m trying to feel the wonder along with the ignorance of this first day.
sometimes i feel like i’m stumbling around in the dark. in a fine china shop. as an elephant. with the person behind the counter staring at me unimpressed with an arched eyebrow. i’ve realised that the only way to escape the awkwardness of this is to keep brazenly pushing forward. if things must break for me to get somewhere, so be it. there are other fine china shops with other elephants knocking things over.
i’ve been questioning the worthiness of what i do. by which i mean, what is a worthwhile thing to do? i only really feel like what i’ve done counts for something if it’s something i’ve created with some genuine effort. if there’s something of me in that creation. i can only take any criticism or praise with its due weight if it’s about this creation.
i’ve been so caught up in the anxious cycle of work-work-work and my time-bag is beginning to bulge at the seams and feel too heavy with Tasks, but i’m trying something different this time. i’m thinking about reckless abandon, about living and hoping loudly, about radical optimism. i’m thinking about the sheer audacity of positivity when things are tough, about refusing to acknowledge the water i’m trying to stay afloat in. i’m thinking the only worthwhile way to live is to love, and instead of forgetting that in difficult times, i owe it to myself to actually become louder about it. it’s blustering and ungainly, but it feels infinitely boundless.
i’ve been slowly but steadily making my way through mary oliver’s ‘devotions’. i’m savouring 3-4 poems a week, sitting with the words, underlining and rereading lines that make my breath catch. a couple of nights ago, i came across a poem titled ‘life story’. the entire thing is lovely, but one line that stuck out for me was -
Now I am here, later I will be there.
day after day, i am moving from place to place, from time to time, from age to age. first here, later there. it’s that simple.
so much of my worry is to do with the fear of what the next month will do to me, or if i’ll be able to handle it. i have to trust that i simply will.
ps: happy birthday to my mother, who said she wanted a thodi written about her as a gift this year <3
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this week’s Song
Ik Kudi by wolf.cryman and Arpit Bala
find all shared songs here.
thank you for reading, and see you next week <3
That flower looks like a Persian Silk Tree.
This was insanely good