I'm Already Hating All That Is Around Me Without Knowing What I'm Exchanging The Love For.

The fear of creating

As a child, I was applauded for my artistic inclination and abilities. I participated in competitions and realised that I definitely wasn’t the best at what I do. It broke the child in me to realise that she wasn’t the best at what she enjoyed doing.

As a child, I was applauded by my dance teacher for the precision and grace with which I learnt her choreography. I had to move cities and watched all my fellow performers do what I could’ve done if only I had continued. Something in me broke again.

As a child, I wanted to pursue fashion studies. I cleared the necessary exams. But my plans weren’t supported and I had to watch my friends do and learn what I had wanted my whole life. There was still something left in me that broke that day too.

I knew all along that I could always return to these “lost opportunities”. Get back to pursuing all that I loved. But there’s this constant fear of “but you’re not as good as you thought you were” all along. At the back of your head.

It’s so difficult to remember that you don’t have to do things just because you are or were good at them but rather because they help you return to yourself.

It’s so difficult to remember that returning to things you once loved and still do isn’t a fairy tale journey. It carries the grief of all you could have been. But also the hope of all you could be.

Exchange of Smiles. (:-

Recently I met a friend of mine. The kind of friend you just share a long, good conversation with. I expressed my disdain for how little I smile at strangers now. She shared with me that, her smile is her biggest asset at her workplace. And I vowed that despite the creeps I may sometimes encounter, I will try my best to smile. At everyone and everything. The smile that just says ''I'm glad this moment is happening''. Today as I sat down in the park to make a brief note about my calming morning in my journal, I heard the sound of rushed anklets. A little girl, as little as four years old, walked amidst both her grandparents. She held hands with her grandparents as she walked. But her hands were too short and legs too tiny. The jingle of her anklets on her tiny feet trying to catch-up was such a sight, alongside their calm and synchronized pace. This was a moment that was important for me to remember. The pure simplicity with which it gave me an odd yet comforting joy. And that's when I caught the grandmother's eye and gave her the brightest smile. As though to thank for the moment she co-created. And she smiled back at me. This exchange of smiles for me was a way to convey my gratitude someway, somehow- as she generously let me make this new space in my conscience to hold this moment- of which she is the owner- oh so dearly...

“Quantity produces quality. If you only write a few things, you’re doomed.”

— Ray Bradbury