Every now and then, the need to write comes rushing back. Stealthy, silent, urgent.
There are two paths, I scribble down something, a paragraph, or two. The words so apt to the feelings felt, so raw, so honest. And then there is the other. I forget, I try my best to. With people, things, more things, busyness. The thoughts fade, the opportunity cost of doing so, really really high. Close to nothing can get those exact feelings back. I try, when I am alone, just before I close my eyes. Nothing.
This takes time, effort, putting everything out there. Its so easily found, so open. Maybe I should remain anonymous. But also strangely reconciliatory when I look back and wonder where the last 90 days / 6 months have gone. When will I get myself to understand that sleeping at 2-3am will not get me a happy preview to the next day. There will not be ‘getting up bright sparkly and thankful’ nor will there be the ‘five minutes of silence to give thanks for the day ahead’. There will be, however, a ton of scrambling around, double timing and wishes of ‘why couldn’t I have slept a half hour earlier yesterday’
Short term memory. Or permanent stubborness and in denial. Depends.
That stuff that I do in the day. Yes it gets by, but more and more there is this feeling that there has to be more than this to life. They say few find their passions and even a lesser few actually get to realise them. I truly believe, with every fibre of my being, that I am meant to be where I am. And where I am is where God wants me to be, as of this moment / season in life. I don’t know a month, 3 months, 6 months a year from now whether that will change, but for now, I am just going to give thanks, for my awesome colleagues, for my apparent lack of financial responsibilities in life, and my prerogative to do whatever I want when I want to. And continue to find, to pray that I find, the thing that truly makes me happy, excited, scared and hopeful all at once. Every minute, hour and day.
Going about life is easy. Being present in every minute of it isn’t.
Autopilot might be the best and the worst gift I give myself. I do it so well some days just blur past. One of those instances, today, ended up less than stellar. I won’t know the outcome, consequences, impact till tomorrow. I don’t know which is worse, not knowing, and speculating, or knowing and not knowing what to do about it.
I always exaggerate things in my ridiculous brain. I just hope its not as bad as I think it is.
After moping around to the comfort of people know who know exactly what I go through, sit less than a 5m radius around me, I decide to take a hot shower (thankful that the gym is so close by with an endless supply of hot jet powered water) blowdry my hair and go to dinner. Few deep breaths, let myself know that there is nothing I can do as of that moment in time. And head on down to spend a good time of sashimi, tempura, many laughs and a lot of love.
And it turned out we all needed hugs that night. Some a little more than others.
This writing thing needs to make a come back. Words in the head doesn’t translate that easily these days to words on paper and that has to change.
For now. I need to get through tomorrow, clean. And I need sleep. As always.
