Last night I spent some amazing hours with my-own-self. I was
secretly thanking God, for having my work got over early so I could coax a few
minutes of some me-time from the day before hitting the sack myself. What was
meant to be just a peek-a-boo, turned into a series of clicks on the
"older post" link of my own blog - reading, soaking, marveling, wondering,
conversing. Self appraisal. And before I knew it, life had turned a corner.
Sometimes all it takes is a dash of sunshine from someone else's
backyard tiptoe into yours to make you realize just how simple it really is to
surrender to mundane. Surrender and let go, of all the teeny things that
conjure to make a picture of what you're all about.
Tiny feeble mutterings of your soul that tug at you from inside
your shirt every once in a blue moon, that go unheard, unseen and unanswered.
Reminders in grabs of incoherent musings, that come as strangers that knock at
your door, you peek through the peep-hole, don't open the door, don’t even
answer or who is it. and return to what you were doing. We hardly spare a
blink, seldom pause, or barely offer an exhale of breath most times, as those fluttering
come, knock at our hearts and leave unresponded.
Our many mundane days, as the nonchalant clock ticks away to
ennui, I yearn to sit down, take a book and read it until I have fallen asleep
on the couch. I yearn for my notebook where I can scribble a little something
and feel satiation glide across the room. But at most mundane days, I choose to
look over the longing, and keep going at whatever consumed my moments right
then. Be it washing the clothes, be it chopping the windows, be it folding the
clothes. And on many such occasions of opted ignorance have I felt this
distinct tug from inside, right at the centre of the chest as though some
massive weight were pulling it down. As if saying, Don't look away from us!
Break us free, pour us out. Create! Undo!" But no, I don't listen. I
choose to stare at that empty corner in my heart that aches to be full, but I
do not listen.
And last night as I went on pursuing through the pages of my
blog, it showed me a little valley that leads to happiness, I chuckled to
myself. Why do we complicate things so much? Isn't happiness, in truth such a
simple thing?
Solitary mornings,
Evening walks,
Lunch dates,
An old tee that still fits,
Waking up to rains,
Scribbling beautiful nothings,
Re-reading that old favorite book,
Paulo Coelho,
The Alchemist,
And a huge bar of chocolate!
Happiness. As simple as it could get.
And I wonder.
Why is it that I need to be reminded of this every now and then?
Why can't I simply look within and bask in the beauty of the
little things that fill up that empty corner of my heart and render my happy?
Why don't I read as much as I'd like? Why don't I write so
frequently?
Why do I think that I won't write until I know its going to be
something special?
Why do I forget, it doesn't have to be special, it has to be
satiating?
And wouldn't it be satiating if I just grabbed my laptop and
wrote about what I did over the weekend that made me happy, or about how I
dreamt of my Mr. Right woke me up with hugs and kisses this morning, or how
last night I read a blog that left me feeling alive again, or simply put up a
collage of the week that was if the words seem to be on vacation?
And maybe then I'd feel like I've touched my chest, and embalmed
my soul with a bit of abundance that calls itself simplicity. Embrace, all
that, in which, life bears beauty and chooses to portray itself in. Maybe then,
my tempest little heart will collide with what we mortals call serenity. And
maybe, just maybe, it shall make sense.
Immense. Radiate. Flow.
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