Circles

I never really understood what coming a full circle means. I mean, how do you know the circle is complete? When do you know that you are ready to take your twig to the beach, and start over with new circles?

I suppose some would call it closure, or acceptance, or moving on, or realising a dream, a vision, a goal. Or starting where they left off. Or maybe even, finding something that was lost. A person, a feeling, a spirit. Coming to terms with change. Understanding that it was for the best. And finally realising that everything is exactly the same now as it was when you began. Except that, you aren’t.

Beginnings always hide themselves in ends.

And mostly, you can’t tell one from the other. At least, until a certain time. Beginnings, ends, phases in between – their territories are often murky. There are highs like never before, and lows like never before. There are fragments of peace, of limbo, of waiting for the next runway train to hit or the desert storm to leave you blinded. But, the highs – those are the most confusing, most fulfilling fragments. A high is a high because it has a trigger. A catalyst that fuels the trigger. And as long as the trigger and the catalyst are something you can control, something that is real or tangible, you are in a safe place. A happy high. Minus the trigger, can you still find your happy place? I’m not too sure. You can never really be sure. Until the day that trigger is you. Something inside you.

The lows, they have triggers and reasons too. But, more often than not, in this period of steady, slow, unperturbed change, they become self-inflicted. Living in the memory of a bad feeling. Putting your mind and body in the same situation that you know is going to leave you free falling – and not in a nice way.

Hopping between these surreal worlds of love, hate, regret, acceptance, anger, remorse, loss, strength, joy, calm, hope – can be tiring, confusing and may seem fantastically pointless. Compartmentalising, practicality, conviction, maturity – suddenly you need to put them all into grand perspective. Something that seems impossible because you simply feel so so tired. Love, life and everything in between will hit you with a few shots of dopamine every now and then, but like a shot of coke, its temporary. Nobody is naive enough to be unconditionally happy anymore. And so, the circle remains half-doodled.

Here comes your constant. A constant against which you measure your truth. Something that helps you absorb the reality around you and the surreality inside you. Something that is neutral ground. Positive. Not something that helps you escape, but something that helps you stay. Not something that you can’t do without, but something that adds beauty to what you already have (and we all have something to live for, so let’s not go there). Something that should never be perfect, but something that you can live with for at least a while. Nothing too intense, because there you may be unintentionally crossing the fine line between staying and escaping. Something super solid. Stronger & saner than how you feel right now.

After the constant, comes the most beautiful phase. Where all of the confusion, although still surging, comes with some answers. There is a little more clarity, a little more living in the moment, a little less conversation, a little more silence – the good kind. The switch between the highs and lows are fewer, calmer, more organic. There’s some balance within. It’s easier to see what’s real and what’s a part of the game you’ve made up.

This, by no means completes the circle. And this by no means promises that your constant is here to stay. Things are always ambiguous – dynamic – floating. The constant may stay, or go or change into something else, someone else. You may come back full circle to the place that made you or the place that broke you. But, there won’t be a definite end or a sure-shot beginning. No perfect circles. Just a lot of in betweens. Some tolerable, some not.

Finding a place to plant your feet (and your heart) in the in betweens, is what endurance is all about. It’s not that ‘nothing is permanent’ – it’s simply that ‘we want nothing permanently’.

You change. They change. The world around you changes. None of it is because of you, for you or without you.

The trick is to get as much ending as possible into your beginning.

Until next time,

XOXO

The Space Between us

When two people meet, things happen. All kinds of things. And even before you can trace your fingers on each other’s cheeks, there comes a grand opening. Every relationship has its first grand opening. At some point. The first awkward silence, the first prick of pain, the first unspoken conflict, the first fight. And more often than not, they bring you together for the first time.

Really together.

 

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“There are invisible lines between you and me. Lines that should never be crossed, lines that need to be respected and lines that define us in many ways. In wanting to be so close that nothing may ever come in between us, these invisible lines, when given purpose, can only bring us closer. Because when you open your arms wide to beckon me closer, I don’t want to be nudged. I want to be far enough to be able to run into them, and at the same time not so far away that I cannot feel you. As I grow older, hopefully wiser, and surely crazier — I’ll be needing that space every now and then. I’ll need to put up my tent and camp there when I can’t seem to find answers. You can light me my campfire, roast me my marshmallows, make me my hot chocolate and stare at me all you like under the twilight sky. But, keep the words for another day. You can stay close and keep me warm, but too close for comfort was never my style, baby. I’ve always been too screwed up for that kind of sweet lovin’.

But, this sacred space between us is a world in itself with its dark alleys, its floral valleys and its questionable morals. It’s the place where our shadows meet. It’s where the sparks fly. It’s where the minds intersperse. It’s ours and yet it’s part mine and part yours.

These invisible lines can mean different things. Sometimes I cross them when you aren’t watching. Sometimes I eavesdrop. Sometimes I walk past them even when you gingerly push me away. I tend to ignore the hints. I push you to push me away. But there comes a point when I know I’ve gone too far beyond the lines, into territory that should not be trespassed. I take off my shoes, hold the ruffles of my dress in my hands, and start running. Back to base. Back to my space. Sometimes, the mayhem can be averted. Sometimes, not. Words may fly and tempers may flare. Or there may be cold silences stretching into the loneliest of nights. More often than not, the burning guilt inside me makes me hold your hand, trample my ego and simply apologize. And this time I cross the lines, with intention, come over to your side and kiss away the pain that I brought you. By now, I know you have forgiven and forgotten because kisses always make you do that. You even urge me to believe that your space is mine to share, that I can walk in anytime —especially when the tide is high and my only safe haven is the lighthouse at your end of the coast. But you have always been gracious with your part of the space, giving me the freedom to look around, explore, question or even demand. The love, hope and music that we have going for us, always keeps you feeling selfless. So much so that sometimes when I want to feel you, I can just lean over and find you there, waiting to lock your eyes with mine.

But my space, that’s always been the Mission Impossible without Tom Cruise — basically, hopeless. I have guards and shields and other metaphors. I’ve never let you in beyond the sheer white curtains that the summer breeze loves to caress so much. It’s almost admirable to see you always waiting your turn when I lock myself in and unlock the vapid mind games. You patiently wait while I hibernate, or find time to love back. You respect the invisible lines, even the ones that don’t exist. You stand there smiling, giving me the thumbs up, making sure I eat my meals, dress-up when I have to, go out when I need to — all the time stealing glances and caring more than you really should — and making yourself happy in doing so. Maybe if I went around declaring my innermost desires to the people I felt them for, I’d end up like you — happy or something.

These lines are now stronger than the ones that run across our palms — the ones we were born with. In a short time, they have made their presence felt. They have guided us and misguided us. They have brought us closer, as close as close can get. They have taught us lessons of love, taken us on guilt trips, warned us when we tried to trick them and burnt us when we walked into their fire barefooted. At the very same time, they have taught us the beauty of distance, distance in love. The beauty of freedom, of time for oneself, of breathing the same air and yet living in two different souls. Of breathing together, rather than for each other.

This cosmic space between us is all we’ve got to remind us of how far we have come. They define the polarities in our world — pointing to questions that bewilder, without naming them. Unlike our physical bodies, or our fearless minds, this space is limited to our intertwined souls — merging only when we wish for nothing to come between us, but keeping us sane at all other times. Because walking on beaches, watching sunsets and feeling the grains of sand disappear between the fingers of my palms, are the times when I want to hell with this space between us. I want the tides to gush it away. I want that the horizon envelope it into it’s journey into nothingness. And yet, I want it there. It’s a paradoxical dilemma, with no right answer.

But finally, it is oddly comforting to know that there is something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me and I to you.

As we are learning to fly, we may have reached for the secrets too soon, we may have worn out our welcome with random precision, but as strangers, legends, prisoners or diamonds, we shine forever, baby.”

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P.S: Recently, I’ve not been able to dedicate a lot of time to writing. Most of these narratives have been written in the past but are very close to my heart.

Until next time, XOXO

Moms aren’t Gentlemen

 

“I don’t know — maybe the world has two different kinds of people, and for one kind the world is this completely logical, rice pudding place, and for the other it’s all a hit-or-miss macaroni gratin.”

Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

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Prologue

I sit next to my son, while he scoops up heaps of sand in his tiny palms, feeling frustrated as the grains slip between his little fingers no matter how hard he tries to hold on to this futile process. The sand falls back to the ground and, like lost time, becomes part of what’s already there. His tiny brain processes this idea of wanting to achieve something in a certain way, but being unable to do so, sends out signals in the form of frowny faces, angry fists and high-frequency shrieks. I look at him in amusement, making a mental note to cut his fingernails as soon as we get home.

For that moment in time, he takes me away from the frustration that’s going into torrid flames deep inside me. My mind in torn between wanting to absorb this present moment and not allowing the recent past to devour my near future. Even as I want to be really angry (because of something completely unrelated), my mommy brain wants to marvel at the intensity and expression of his anger. And I can’t help but wonder how contrastingly strange is the nature of our emotions — his frustration — short-lived and silly — comes from a place of innocence and unwordliness, unlike mine that swarms with a complex amalgamation of all things worldly and disgustingly grown-up. Suddenly, I want to barter my brain for his — this easygoing transition between hysterical bouts of laughter and tiny white teeth gritting with irreproachable anger. I want to stop heeding to this raging sense of insult bubbling inside my layers — even though the insult isn’t really mine to bear. But, being the slightly over-the-top, patriotic fool that I am, I take some things very personally. But even as these thoughts consume me in varying degrees of distaste, a silent calm hovers over our little bubble — where my son plays in happy abandon and I watch him, hypnotized by his simple expectations of joy. Not wanting to pop the bubble yet, I let my anxiety take a backseat for a few minutes. I let my words crouch soundlessly in the corner of time — taking in all the glory from this moment that will be nothing more than memories in a few minutes.

The National Anthem Saga

Call me a dreamer, but I always imagined a wonderful world — the one that Louis Armstrong sings about. “I hear babies crying, I watch them grow – they’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know – and I think to myself what a wonderful world”. And I believe this world does exist, despite what we see, what we hear and what we feel. I believe in the good things in life. And yet, that true believer in me sometimes feels a helpless sense of loss — loss of wisdom and virtue while I see parents around me trying so hard to mould their younglings. I am by no means the perfect parent and don’t know much about how to get a child to listen to you without begging, bribing or threatening — I do it all and it works just fine when distraction doesn’t (I bake my own cupcakes so I can bribe all I want). I may not be the bookish mom, or even the mom that doesn’t swear, but I do know how to do one thing right — I know how to make a good human being (which includes being a proud citizen) from 1 foot and 6 pounds of boundless joy (and mayhem). I know I will always try to teach my child (read monster) to be a kind human before aiming to be anything else — or I shall obligingly die trying.

But before curiosity kills the cat, let me tell you what brought on the regurgitation of these complex, heated emotions. Last evening, as we counted to twenty, swinging on our usual blue swing in the park, a loud group of young boys came to play in the park close to us. This enthusiastic bunch was followed close behind by a group of moms (their moms I would think), chattering and giggling with animated faces and hand gestures that beat even mine. The moms parked their bottoms instinctively on a bench nearby and continued their high-frequency banter while the boys began playing on the slides and some even joined us on the nearby swings. But suddenly, I noticed something very strange. Like a cluster of bees buzzing in unison, they were all singing the national anthem. Actually, they were screaming it — and saying all the words wrong, almost mocking it. I winced, aghast at the scene — nobody seemed to know that they ought to stand in attention while singing the national anthem. It was the very first thing we were taught back in school. Instantly, I was teleported to my childhood days and to the only reason why we hated those uniform short skirts. As we stood in attention at the morning prayers and assembly, anyone who giggled or tried to make petty conversation was promptly whacked with the stick on the calves. Especially, during the national anthem. And to this day, when the national anthem is played in movie theatres, I stand in attention and let the melody of our anthem bring me those goosebumps. But, snapping back to the present, I sense that something here is irrationally askew. The mothers don’t seem to notice, and those that do, don’t seem to care. And for a while, I feel a little confused and almost a little sad. Is it my place to intervene? But then, is it okay to allow the youth of tomorrow to believe that the national anthem is just another song? That it isn’t attached to national integrity, solemnity, sacrifice, and respect.

I tell myself that these children are no more than 7-10 years old. They don’t understand what these concepts mean, what the words of the anthem signify, or why it is sung at several solemn occasions. But, I would think that their mothers do. I would think that education, knowledge, and sensitization begin at home — that a mother is the first teacher — the most impressionable one. That, for a child, her words are always words written in stone — the final verdict, the last call, the only truth. And yet, I see this bunch of moms, turning a blind eye to this frivolous recitation of a poem written in the deepest faith by a true legend. I count to ten, I shut my eyes, I purse my lips hard — but the words inside my mouth are forming like huge, unwavering waves about to hit a rocky shore. Finally, with all the composure I can muster — I tell the children in a kind and firm voice that the national anthem should not be made fun of and that one must stand in attention while singing it no matter when, where or how. My words tumble out louder than I intended — the authority in them addressing the mothers rather than the little ones. The children look at me like I am some unscrupulous, hopeless excuse for a human being. They laugh at me mockingly and continue screaming the national anthem, this time doing jumping jacks and running in circles. All this while, the mothers have been watching in silence. And like a crass internal battle that has just been won, they now smirk at me and then smugly at one another. I watch it all in horror, in dismay, in a sort of senseless pain — and finally, in resignation. I decide that this is not my war to fight; I accept that I can change only what is inside me and not what isn’t.

“There’s another world that parallels our own, and to a certain degree you’re able to step into that other world and come back safely. As long as you are careful. But go past a certain point and you’ll lose the path out. It’s a labyrinth. But the principle for the labyrinth is inside you. And that correlates to the labyrinth outside.”

I am reminded of this reciprocal metaphor from a book that is, in most likelihood, a part of my soul (Kafka on the Shore). And in that moment, I just let it all go. I gently scoop up my son in my arms, and start humming ‘Seasons in the Sun‘ while I walk back home. My mind is working overtime, consumed by this deathly cocktail of emotions. But eventually, I find my centre, the familiar part of my labyrinth. I’m not sure there is a lesson here, or even a story worth telling. But I do know this — being a firm believer in one thing, allowing it to be your guiding principle or letting it define your identity is as much a strength as it is a flaw. Because in the world where we will all finally live someday — that neutral place between life and death — the limbo — there is no right or wrong, no light or dark, no hurt or pain — just a calm sense of having lived a full live and transitioning into another lost world. So while I’m here, I’ll learn to let go, to smile it away, kiss it away, hug it out. And I’ll live to fight another day.

Epilogue

That being said, I never feel like I want to be anything else or anyone else but me — even when I don’t fit into the herd. The odd, eccentric Aquarian in me still feels soulful and content with her tribe of nonsense people — never the popular one with the huge circle of friends, or the one that shares her space with the world — I’m my very own private island, with my very own lighthouse and sunsets. And books. And unending kettles of tea. And so it was never a ‘faint in surprise‘ situation when I was anything but the popular mom. Disliked for being blunt, bitched about for being almost too unsocial, and always the mom who was the least relatable, most unstirred by public opinion, and always content to live in a happy place in her mind — this post may have caused some mom friends (moms who are friends who talk about their kids, mostly) to disappear from my life. I can’t say I’ll miss them — well, maybe if someday I need humans for company. But, in the meantime, nobody should feel obliged to hold their breaths.

“We are all kind of weird, and twisted and drowning.”

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

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Until next time,

XOXO

I’ve got a Dream

‘Way down deep inside, I’ve got a dream‘ — sings Rapunzel (in Tangled) with all the thugs, ruffians and thieves who seem to go all warm and fuzzy when she asks them in all her spirited innocence — ‘Don’t any of you have a dream?!‘

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Some of us grow up knowing exactly what we want to do or what we want to be — the ballerina, the revolutionary, the sportsman, the figure skater, the michelin star chef, or the bestselling author. On the other end of the spectrum, lie the silent dreamers — the ones that are good at most things, and excel at nothing. They are the dormant volcanoes— bubbling within, serene on the surface — satisfied with being a tourist’s attraction, rather than the centre of it. This is us.

We were the teenagers living in our own lost worlds — we knew we would fare square in our circles, but we never found our real calling — our soul’s drug, our true life force. We were naive, fragile, carefree, and almost too happy with our ‘above average‘ opening acts in all facets of early adulthood — studies, love, jobs, life. But in the shadows, lay still, the dreams that were never dreamt, the opportunities that didn’t come our way, the exposure that we couldn’t experience, the inspiration that we couldn’t find, and the heroes inside us that we couldn’t recognize.

Nobody knows all along what their one big dream will look like. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you have all your ducks in a row from the very beginning. But sometimes, that dream decides to show up when you’ve finally got everything under control — and wish only to lie on a bed of green grass and gaze at the stars, patting yourself on your back, for you made a good life out of what was offered to you. ‘But, wait a second‘ — says the universe. ‘I’m not done yet.’

Suddenly, the dream is here in all its eloquence – to consume you, derail you, question your sanity and rip you apart. And yet, it’s everything you are made up of — it’s every cell of your body, every thought in your mind, every chemical in your blood, and every grain of your soul. And just like that, you know what the great people were talking about when they said ‘I’ve got a dream’. Just like Phil Knight says in his memoir – Shoedog — ‘It didn’t even look like an idea. It looked like a place. It looked like a person, or like some life force that existed long before I did, separate from me but also part of me. Waiting for me, but also hiding from me.’ Yes, dreams can feel so vivid, so real — it all depends on how you assemble it, frame it, work it – it all depends on how you sell it to yourself.

Dreams don’t often become a reality. When I wake up each morning, that’s the one thought I fight. The one thought I never want to believe in, to give power to, or to succumb under. Some may call it stupid, some may say I shall be unprepared to deal with the real world at some point, some may even snigger at my gullible outlook. But way down deep inside, I know that I can attract all that I’ll ever need to make my dreams my new truth. If I fail, I’ll know that I didn’t want it bad enough to be able to abolish all negativity with regard to its fulfilment. I am the only pawn in the game — and how I fare is always in my control — one way or another.

The world is full of triggers that may confine you to your swamp of a life — holding you back, chaining you to the rails, unleashing the mind games, sending you on guilt-ridden trips, and filling your brandy mug with a whole lot of clean juice. Don’t let it get to you. Because, Haruki Murakami always makes the best analogies, and this one is no exception; he says — life is like a box of assorted chocolates — where you eat your favourite ones first and leave the others behind, not wanting to eat them at all. But in order to get to the next box of chocolates, you need to finish the ones you don’t like. You need to deal with digesting bad energy. You need to accept being judged for your choices, blamed for your indulgence in yourself, and questioned about the future that you don’t hold in your hands. But all through this, remember to keep the hero inside you singing your favourite songs, dancing in the rain, and believing in magic. Let your soul live in its neverland where rules exist only to be broken, where reality becomes a dream and where you breathe music, eat fire and spew love. In other words, stay lost, stay sane.

At the very same time, grasp the entirety of the equation — confide in a friend, observe the competition, look deep inside your framework, ask the right questions. Are you wired to do this? Do you have the unmatched passion and potential? Is your illusory castle sitting on a hollow base of assumptions? In being so lost, are you walking under the sea all alone? Are your blueprints strong enough to win a firefight? So on and so forth. Be honest with yourself and let healthy criticism be the one you go to bed with.

But, once you know you’ve got all your ducks in a row (or all your squirrels in a rave – as a close friend always says), go all guns blazing. Don’t look over your shoulder, and don’t look beyond the horizon. Keep your gaze fixed on this day. This moment. Do it better, faster, nicer. Fish out rabbits from hats and flower bouquets from blazer cuffs. Give it every waking nanosecond, shut out everything else. Call it inception — plant an idea in your own head — call it what you will. Do it all long enough, and tell me you don’t actually believe in the only obvious truth – that your dreams are your only, absolute reality.

As crazy as most of it sounds, we are nothing but flesh and bones without some hope, some dreams and some love.

So, let the hero inside you run wild, chasing dreams, meeting strangers, making history and creating magic. Don’t be scared to run, be scared to stop.

In Mariah Carey’s words –

“And then a hero comes along
With the strength to carry on
And you cast your fears aside
And you know you can survive
So when you feel like hope is gone
Look inside you and be strong
And you’ll finally see the truth
That a hero lies in you“

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Until next time, XOXO

Wake up, baby

“It’s not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There’s shadowy middle ground. Recognizing and understanding the shadows is what a healthy intelligence does. And to acquire a healthy intelligence takes a certain amount of time and effort.”
After Dark, Murakami

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I open my eyes, and there you are. I can’t be sure if you were hiding in the shadows or choosing to stay away till the time was right. I don’t know if I understand what you want from me or what you mean at all. But as you tower over me, pouring down on me like the first summer rain, I can smell your sweet presence in all its beauty. I can feel you touching my soul, changing me in ways that I cannot comprehend. The ripples you have made in the calm waters may never settle, as you throw one pebble after the next – not fully understanding the web that binds me, the chains that hold me and the guards that won’t go down. But you linger. In my thoughts, in my sleep, and in every conscious moment. Digging deeper into the grey matter, contaminating the air I breathe, being the mafia that captures my heart.

I know who sent you; I know it was all a deviously designed plan. I know you won’t stop till the gates break open. I know you will pull me into you like an irresistible current – never to swim back ashore as the same person again. You and the universe together have it all figured out for me. You, my calling, have finally come to me uninvited, and yet you have become the life force that drives me. So when I open my eyes and see you there, I know I have been waiting for you all my life – waiting on the day when you whisper softly in my ears — wake up, baby.

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I open my eyes, and there you are. You are the penultimate circle of fire, the one that catches on before the wildfire. And yet, if one can’t seem to understand the power of little things, one can never understand how a single match can lead to a wildfire. You bring me purpose, reason, awakening and desire. You show me a mirror that fears what it may reflect. You have no form, no scent, no threshold. Sometimes, you can feel like the purest white cloud, and at other times, you are a chaos of colours. You may be the covert operation, the unredeemed truth, the dreary back alley — much like the strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Never on one side, always shifting base like a migraine that won’t go away. Persistent.

And yet, you are liberation, salvation, and freedom. You are the blackest black of my soul, the part that needs no light to grow — fuelled by passion, love and all things beautiful. You may be the gambler that leaves me with nothing or the one that gives me everything – reminding me that nothing lasts forever. You may be the ransom I pay for the lessons that need to come my way. Or, you may be the song that fills me with promises. Whatever you decide to be, you are still just a shadow rooted deep inside me. Locked, jailed, never to be freed. And yet, you mock me every time I pass you by. You own me even when you don’t. You, my dark side, will always be the one who I want to be enslaved to. The one that always gives me all the answers, only to find myself tangled in a new yarn of puzzling questions.

Like a sheet of water in a desert or on a hot road, you are an optical illusion of false promise. A mirage of the possibilities that come with walking into fire. You make me the fighter, the rebel, the outlier, the dreamer, the dragon rider, and the free spirit. Not the sweetest to taste, but always the necessary evil – you are the balsamic vinegar to my salad.

So, stay there, my rebellious edge. Because, when I open my eyes and see you there, I know I have been waiting for you all my life – waiting on the day when you whisper softly in my ears — wake up, baby.

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I open my eyes, and there you are. All of a sudden I feel this warmth in my heart, this spring in my step, this music in my head. I don’t know if dreams can feel so real, if things can be this goddamn amazing. Something inside me is telling me to give in. Something outside me is pulling me to you. Like an irresistible shot of tequila, a red lipstick waiting to stain a glass, laundered sheets waiting to be rustled, or a hunger waiting to be satiated — you have a power that is overwhelming, compulsive, potent and fervid.

Your soul is utterly captivating — a warm, rainy day dying to be danced in.

Your gentle nothings are finding their way into my heart. Killing me softly. Touching my soul in the sweet spots. Bringing my mind to believe in bizarre, unfamiliar thoughts. Leaving me beautifully tangled. Leaving me stuck in a moment. Throwing in stars, beacons of shining diamonds, rays of the setting sun, waves of the calming tide, secrets of the timid heart and words of the beautiful mind — all into one big, burning cauldron of seamless magic. And from it, you rise like a cloud of intoxicating fumes — my phoenix of love. Love, that waits for its time. Love that stays for infinity and beyond — in a place where the grass is greener, the light is brighter, the taste is sweeter, and high hopes linger; where there are nights of wonder, with the dawn mist glowing, the water flowing, the endless river — Forever and ever.

You are the boundless joy that I get to wake up to each day. So when I open my eyes and see you there, I know I have been waiting for you all my life – waiting on the day when you softly brush away the strands of hair that rest determined on my face and whisper softly in my ears — wake up, baby.

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P.S: Some words in the second last paragraph are borrowed references from the song High Hopes by Pink Floyd, written by Polly Annie Samson and David Jon Gilmour.

This is also a post that was written months ago, all this while sitting as a draft, waiting for its time.

Photo credits (and help with concept planning): @vijayanand_celluloids on Instagram. Thank you for being one heck of a human, one heck of a photographer and for giving me the creative freedom and support I needed to shoot these pictures with the utmost comfort and confidence — for being the one who brings my vision to life. Forever grateful.

Until next time, XOXO

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Right time

Better an oops than a what if – Beau Taplin

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For a long time now I have wanted to write this post – ever since I read this quote gracefully hand-lettered on a toilet seat cover by @stephankunz – ‘Create something today, even if it is shit’.

I have spent weeks, sometimes months, ruminating over plans, decisions, and to-dos – never realizing that in this time, I might have accomplished something worthwhile. That 6 months later, I wouldn’t still be making these big plans but seeing some real results. Maybe successes. Maybe failures. Maybe a change in plans or maybe a shift in focus. If nothing else, I would at least have something to look back on, reflect, learn, observe or analyze.

Aren’t we all always waiting for the right time? – once the kids grow up, once we finish our exams, once we lose some weight, once we get married, once we make some more money, once we retire, and the full toss excuse – once we find time.

But, you know this already – you will never find time. You will never make time. You will never prioritize your plans. But, you just might prioritize something that eventually becomes second nature – like 5 minutes of deep breathing at waking, cooking at least one meal at home everyday, exercising thrice a week, reading for at least 10 minutes in a day (even if it is the morning paper), doing what you love at a fixed time twice a week, meeting friends, or just spending a few minutes connecting with yourself.

I understand that you think you are busy. Ask yourself why and be honest. Have you bitten more than you can chew? Do you find it hard to say no to people? Are you helping people at the cost of your own wellness? Are you organizing your life? Are you sleeping too much or too less? Are you in a relationship where you share love and responsibilities? Are you ashamed to ask for help or hire it? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you already know the problem and the solution. It’s bloody common sense. But you can’t seem to get your head around it. You can’t seem to fully accept it. You are so addicted to the rush, the chaos and the ‘no time to think’ autopilot mode, that it has become second nature to you (and not the things that should be). This frenzy is now a part of your brain biology, it’s what makes you tick, it’s what makes you feel important, it’s what consumes your mind. This feverish high enslaves you, dominates you and controls you, almost willfully. So you go on with your days, engulfed in the daily grind of worldly things, and forget the joys of thinking, feeling, reflecting, perceiving, accepting and changing.

The thrill of being spontaneous, the satisfaction of cultivating hobbies, the desire to learn a new skill, these simple joys are long-lost in the furtive current of our hectic lifestyles. We are constantly juggling, traveling, housekeeping, babysitting, or just being kicked around like a muddy football under pouring rain. We never give ourselves a break. A break doesn’t have to be an expensive holiday that takes months of careful planning and adds more stress. A break could be a small outlet to release the tension, to relax the muscles, to stretch the body, to exercise the mind, to reflect on your day or to simply switch off from the world.

It could mean that you use your day off to attend that theatre class, or leave the baby with your parents and go watch that movie, or buy a pair of dumbbells, a skipping rope and a yoga mat, and start sweating. Stop waiting. For Monday, for when your period will be over, for when the baby sleeps, for when you can wear that dress again, for things to come to your front door. Hustle, organize, regroup and attack. Start up. Start over.

Being prepared for a planned future situation/event is extremely critical. But, taking too long to prepare will do exactly the opposite of making you prepared. It will drown you in self-doubt, questions, fears, and more uncertainties than you first began your research with. And that is exactly what happened to me when I wanted to start this blog. I knew too much too soon, and it made me want to ditch my dreams and chicken out. Blogging needed everything I didn’t have – time, money, some tech understanding, blogger friends, knowledge of photography or a talented photographer, discipline and social presence. And the one thing that I did have – serious competition – wasn’t of any help either.

I started this blog on my bestie’s birthday (so September will call for twin celebrations!). All I needed to hear was someone telling me that they believed in me. The desire and inspiration to start writing, and the hard truth that nobody would actually read it unless I told them to (blessing in disguise), helped me find the will to write my first post. But I did it. And as planned, I did a post every five days. I had no views and no followers. But once I had begun, I had given myself the push, the drive. Everything that followed was just an organic flow of events. Change can be life-altering, a necessary tête-à-tête with some massive discomfort and yet a wise reminder that anything is possible if you do the hard work, and do it well.

As of this date, I have no sponsors or affiliates. I work alone, for me. I still post every five days and look forward to it more than you probably do. As much as every blogger dreams of big collaborations, I’m just grateful that I began my journey last year. Now I know what it feels like and I know I love nothing more than clicking on the ‘Publish immediately’ tab of my wordpress account. I have more than half a year of work behind me and that is a source of motivation in itself, a sort of self-commitment to my work, an accountibility to my readers and a lot of feedback, statistics and analytics that can only help me make better decisions. I’m not harping on a ‘what if’, but rather making plans for a ‘what now’, and that’s more than I can say for all my years of endless excuses.

So, please don’t be afraid to start something new. This is the right time. Your time is now. Start before someone else does.

In my definition of success, my blog is a personal success. If nothing else, it will always be my tunnel of love reaching out to you. Maybe, this post will make better sense if (and when) my blog also becomes a business success. But, then it would just be a boring old success story. Today, I have nothing to lose and I want you to know that it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you are here, and if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here either.

This is my time, right or wrong. I’m finally doing what I love and I’m in it for the long haul.

What’s your story?

Until next time, XOXO.

The Wars Within

Where there is love, there is conflict.

A close friend recently told me something that brought me a sense of inner calm, a sense of familiarity with the demons inside me, and a sense of forgiveness for my greed to feel truly happy — a foreign addiction that seems to have consumed my being recently. He explained to me, ever so patiently, that life happens in phases. At every phase, we feel differently, we want differently and we act differently. Once a phase is over, the magic that governs it, is over. Something that seemed extraordinary is now ordinary, its beauty is diminished, its craving is long-lost, and the reasons for its existence now seem null and void. The strong attraction that once felt unnerving, irresistible, all-pervasive — now leaves behind a blur of lack lustre memories. And it’s time to move on — move on to the next phase of wanting something exactly the opposite, of being someone you didn’t recognise yesterday, of living in a new present with new rules to break, and new pinnacles to conquer.

But, this too shall live its time and pass. The phases will come and go, making us and breaking us every single time. Phases of falling in love, being in love, falling out of love, and falling in love all over again. Phases of feeling content, of feeling lonely and forlorn, of feeling lost, and of feeling found once again, not to never be lost again. Phases of being submissive, compromising, adjusting, and being rebellious, taking charge and wanting to rule the world. Life happens in these phases that take you by utmost surprise, catching you off-guard and sparking a silent conflict in your soul — the wars within that were waiting to be fought.

You can’t be sure when one phase ends and another begins, but you wake up one morning, and just like that, the magic starts to unravel. The birds begin to sing. The light begins to burn bright. The heart beats begin to fasten — and life comes a full circle. You unlearn and relearn. You start at the beginning. You start breathing a new air. A lighter, languorous, lackadaisical, languid, air.

You feel a bit self-indulgent, almost as if you were lying in bed, daydreaming and possibly fanning yourself lazily. You see romance at every crossroad. You want to relive a past that wasn’t what it should have been. You speak in puzzles. You embrace the seven sins. You act mysterious. You find insurmountable pleasure in living under the radar. There is thrill in the unspoken, almost as if you were smiling to yourself about a secret crush from high school.

As an older phase ceases to exist in your conscious mind, you feel every sensation with more intensity, every emotion with boundless vigour and your highest highs become a habit-forming way of life — a really bad drug that gives you a really good trip. Because that’s what drugs do. At some point, you feel like a stranger, outside looking in — not recognising your true self. And yet, you know that this is the truest you have ever been to yourself, to your dreams and to your silly mind.

The world around you never changes, but perceptions begin to creep in like nasty viruses waiting to proliferate and flag their posts. These perceptions are a work of drama, an emotional turmoil, a clashing of generations, a perplexity of unfavourable options — they are everything but the way you take in the world through your senses. But, these are your wars. The wars you are fighting within, with weapons of thought and action, with faith in the unknown, and with wild promises for the future.  A war with no real enemies, just a conflict between old and new desires.

Everything around you urges you to stop fighting, stop messing with destiny, stop asking questions that don’t have answers, stop playing with fire and stop tickling the monsters. But at this juncture, you have walked too far away from reality. You can’t go back. You can’t walk away. You can’t stop walking. This is you in your new phase, the phase of exploration, of revival and of setting out to find your new truth. You are on your journey to soul-searching, with nothing but love on your side. And time. And a bit of music. And along the way you will realize, that’s all you’ll ever need to be happy.

Every phase is an afterlife of the one that just passed you by. Every phase gives you a chance to understand the meaning of life, of your being, of love that cannot be fathomed. As you gracefully stride from one afterlife to the next, you leave behind a small part of you — for those who you left behind. And yet, it seems as though you now have so much more to give, and a heart that’s so much more willing to receive. Where there is love, this is conflict. But where there is love, there is true will. There is true might. And, there is a real dream. Every phase of your being will bring you to this final war within — this quest for fulfilling a love that consumes, this thirst for realising a surreal phantasmagoria.

But this is where you bloom and find your roots, where you spread your wings and find the wind beneath them, where you chase a rainbow and find your happy place. This is where you sit down cross-legged, accept that life has given you your chance, and watch sunsets together. Nothing can ever come to you if your cross your arms so tight and crush the desires that now define you. Open your eyes, your mind, your heart and your arms to love. In every form. Allow it to be the reason you breathe. Empower it to transform you. Grant it the freedom it needs to grow. Concede to its funny little ways. Let it be the guardian angel in your flood and your fire. And finally, spare it the pain of separation. Live with it, for it, by it, and by no means without it.

Be the chaos in my soul that gives birth to a shooting star. Be the rainbow in my heart that takes me to the world in you. The world I’m falling in love with.

Disclaimer – Posts like these can be deeply personal and tend to be more than just words in 5 long paragraphs. Show kindness if you wish to leave comments. Walk away if you don’t have anything nice to say.

Until next time, XOXO

The WAIT.

There was our time, when we learnt about beauty, boys, sex and everything else worth knowing from our parents, our peers, our books and our social interactions. We became self-aware and aware of the curious world around us by experimentation, by taking risks, by putting ourselves out of our comfort zones and then learning to be comfortable with our discomfort. It was a slow, lazy, long process that added up to 12 years of childhood, 6 of adolescence and probably a few good years of early adulthood — our twenty-somethings spent in discoveries, failures, heart breaks, dealing with fears, apprehensions and learning to understand our minds and bodies.

We live in such a contrasting world today. There’s Google. And that about sums it up. There is no ‘age‘ to do anything, be anything, know anything or learn anything. No social triggers, no sense of curiosity and no unanswered questions. Just a perfect world of instant gratification. Pardon the cynical tone, but it scares me to fathom how our children will fare in the face of failure or rejection, of having to wait for their time, of gaining resilience through pain or strife, and of accepting an undesirable fate.

In stark contrast, the 80s child lived a life dominated by eagerness, curiosity, patience and an attitude of embracing ‘The Wait’. I remember how we would wait for a whole week to watch a particular song on television as only one show on Sunday morning played Bollywood numbers. Then with FM Radio, the wait was cut down to a few hours until the same number played again. With CDs, it was just a matter of finishing homework and listening to our favourite songs till mom said it was time for dinner. With smartphones and You Tube, we have done away with the sweet pain of ‘The Wait’ or the ‘longing’ — and, the satisfaction that comes after the longing ends. With this, we have taken away from the simple joys of life — now having to depend on more complicated, more demanding expectations of joy — always seeking it, never finding it.

The self-help section in the bookstore is doing some great business, as we sit here and try to map our road to happiness. Unknowingly, we have redefined the parameters that determine happiness. For instance, happiness is not just about having a healthy, happy baby but also about getting back in shape, breastfeeding and making a big deal out of it, getting back to work, being the perfect mom, being the envied multitasker, being the mom without any dark circles and the one who makes it all seem like the swish of a magic wand — bloody effortless. But it doesn’t end there — we are always craving more and more before we declare ourselves ‘happy‘. Is it of any surprise then, that our children feel the same pressure? The same hopeless quest for happiness and fulfillment? The same disconnect from nature, from being ‘present’ in a moment, from all things that money cannot buy, and from their own disconcerted souls? When did contentment become so hard to come by? And why did we start footnoting happiness with a ‘conditions apply’? And why oh why is it not okay to live the simple, calm, easy, lazy life?

I exemplify motherhood in this crazy obsession with happiness because I am guilty of it myself. In yearning for more of everything (time, personal space, money), I lost moments with my son that were never coming back. I had, by my own doing, victimized myself — and made others feel miserable for it. It’s not something I like to admit, but I must acknowledge the immense pressure I put on myself to fit into a certain frame, in a certain amount of time — always beating myself up for not being good enough. It may have been the sway of the waters, the social media influence, an inability to trust the beauty of time and my lack of judgement in taking the right decisions that led to this meltdown and thus, this never-ending happiness crisis.

Unintentionally, I had begun to believe that it is not okay to rest, heal, switch off or to wait till I found my bearings. Because waiting is wasting time. But, is it?

When I was pregnant, I read a fun book on French parenting (Bringing up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman) that I knew I was going to practice when my son would be born. And I did. My one critical takeaway from the book was this process of educating the baby, by helping him understand from an early age, that there is no such thing as instant gratification. This means that it’s okay to let him cry for a bit before he is picked up and cuddled or while he waits for his food to be served to him. I practice this principle with my son to this day, holding on to his favourite toys or food for just that extra half-minute, though it still doesn’t stop him from yelling his guts out. However, it took me a surprisingly long time to put the same principle into practice while I struggled with the (self-inflicted) pressures of being a first-time mom. It goes to show that being self-aware is not the same as believing in the theory of it. It’s a conscious choice we make every few seconds, with every new thought and every action that accompanies it.

If only, we as parents and as individuals can remember to take the time to heal, to forgive ourselves, to grow, to learn, to teach and to stop and smell the flowers, I think we can safely assume that our children will, once again, find happiness in the ‘little nothings’ of simple living. Despite the fast-paced, competitive, emulative world of social media, let us please please remember that waiting is NOT a bad thing. It’s the way of the world, and in its time, it will teach us a thing or two about life. Nothing wrong with that, eh?

Now, close your eyes for a few seconds and remember that one thing that you loved longing for. Something that filled your heart with joy when it finally happened?! Like waiting to see a loved one after a long separation? Or, finally seeing your dreams turn into reality? Or perhaps, waiting for a first kiss?

And then there is the ultimate kind of ‘The Wait’, the one where you don’t know what it is that you are waiting for, but you know for certain that something’s amiss. The beautiful thing about our cosmos is that, even though we cannot fully comprehend it’s love, it’s love fully comprehends us. It gives us what we need even when we aren’t looking for it. It’s trickery is wrapped in serendipity, and in endless, boundless grace. Remember, these aren’t accidents. These are your cues to undertake your journey of crossing the mountains and valleys, all the time knowing that as long as you are breathing, your moments are never in vain. The universe is watching over you, ticking off one wish at a time. Listen to the voices and the signs. Because very often I find myself looking up and saying ‘It was you all along, wasn’t it?’.

‘The Wait’ is like a poetry of magical emotions. It is delayed gratification. It is good for your soul — because ironically, it leads you on to the path of long-lasting, fulfilling happiness. Every beautiful thing will happen in its time, and adhering to this credo should be the mantra we live by. Because after all, waiting for the good things in life is the sweetest kind of longing. A longing that will eventually fill your soul with flowers and star dust, and all things magic.

Until next time, XOXO

A day in the life – staying organized

What this post is about: my tips on staying organized through tough mommy days, being more productive and efficient, and getting smarter at power-packed hustling. 

I am not a conventional working mommy, but ‘this‘ right here is work to me. I set deadlines for myself with my work, with raising my child in a certain way, with home chores, and with learning new skills. I plan, organize and schedule everything I do. That’s who I am – the crazy list lady. So, today I’m sharing with you, what I’m infamously known for – my need to have everything organized all the time. This is what works best for me.

Settling into a routine

Creating a routine for yourself, your child and your family is über important to help you plan your time better. You know what to expect at what time of the day, and that means you are not shooting in the dark. So create a routine, follow it and sacrifice for it – which means that sometimes you ought to prioritize your routine over someone else’s convenience.

You won’t always be motivated, you have to learn to be disciplined.

Planning your day in advance

I always make a plan (even if it’s making mental notes) for the next day before I go to bed. This gives me direction and drive in the mornings. I hate waking up feeling clueless about the day ahead. Whether it involves laying my clothes out, packing my gym bag, making notes or compiling a meal plan – setting expectations from yourself is the key to having a less chaotic morning.

Goal setting also helps you understand if what you expect from yourself is realistic. With practice, it results in better time management and better planning.

Starting the day with positivity

A common feature in all my posts – start with 5 minutes of positive journaling in the mornings. Write down what you are grateful for, what would make today better and feel inspired to make today count. I highly recommend the 5-minute journal (app or hard copy journal). Remember, positivity is a choice we make everyday.

Getting exercise out-of-the-way

Starting the day with exercise (in whatever form) helps clear the head. It gives you time for self-reflection, self-awareness and wakes up your body. There’s no greater feeling than having a hot shower after a sweaty workout in the morning. It also brings a sense of achievement at the beginning of the day and sets the pattern for productivity.

Making notes

On your phone, in a notebook or on the calendar at your work desk – making notes means having the pleasure to tick chores off your list, and honestly, can anything be more satisfying?

‘Organizing’ is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it isn’t all mixed up.

Completing home chores by mid-day

Mornings should be the time when you efficiently finish all your home chores. This means that you have the rest of the day to do something else. Delaying or wasting time in the mornings is the perfect recipe for a lazy, unproductive day watching TV and eating chips – unless it’s cheat-day Sunday and today, your plan is to go rogue.

Being presentable

This may sound lame but showering, getting dressed, and wearing fresh, laundered linen definitely helps refresh and rejuvenate the mind and body. Don’t take it for granted – looking and feeling good is a great way to train your mind towards positive thinking.

So get up, clear your desk, shower, tie your hair and just start.

Appointing help

An obvious one – if you can afford it, appoint help for the chores that don’t necessarily need your love and care. And once you find help, control the urge to micromanage. Delegate, trust and adjust. This is the toughest one for me, but I’m getting better at it very very slowly.

Tidy desk, tidy mind

An organized kitchen counter, an organized handbag, an organized makeup/stationary storage, or an organized toy bin – keeping your surroundings free of clutter is a great place to begin thinking clearly and working more efficiently. Maybe, the life you have always wanted is buried under everything you own! If it takes less than five minutes, then do it now and see how it affects your productivity and efficiency.

Hangry (n.) A state of anger caused by a lack of food

Eating on time and eating tasty, homemade, soul-satisfying, wholesome food that makes the heart happy, is the only way to stop fantasizing about food when you should be working. If you feel peckish, keep some healthy snacks at arm’s length – but don’t stay hungry. Stay hungry, stay foolish right?

Coffee – fave co-worker

Do you have that bizarre connection between your hands, your taste buds and your brain where holding some sort of beverage and sipping it, improves productivity? Works for me every single time. When I feel creatively crippled, I make some coffee (or hot choco with mallows, and very rarely green tea. Shameful, I know).

Break and breathe

Taking five minutes off every hour helps to regroup, collect your thoughts and relax your muscles. Looking at something far away, ideally some greenery, is great for relaxing your eye muscles. Getting out of your chair, stretching and taking a few deep breaths, and sipping some water slowly from a glass, helps relieve stress and improve concentration (I never actually drink from a glass – always gulping straight from the bottle – guilty as charged. Work in progress).

Priorities, priorities

‘The key is not to prioritize what’s on your schedule but to schedule your priorities’ – Stephen Covey. Sums it up.

2018 Diary and notebook from Alicia Souza

Nobody is indispensable

This one is crucial if you are working from home, like me – if you are your own boss lady, if you pay yourself (in treats and hugs), and if you set your own deadlines. Everybody is going to believe that your ‘work‘ can wait five minutes, so you can show them where to find something, how to do something, make something or help in someway. NO. Make arrangements for someone else to handle the home, baby, chores etc – shut the door, switch off (from the outside world), and get your game face on. People will figure out what to do when you are not available. The show will go on.

Distraction means having to start at ground zero all over again. The distance between dreaming and reality is self-discipline and it starts at home.

Going to bed with no regrets

End the day with positive journaling just as you began your day with it. Relive happy moments from the day, be grateful for how well you did today and tell yourself what you expect from you tomorrow. Hug someone (or a furry friend) and reinforce the circle of love around you. Switch off electronic devices and reward your body with at least 6-7 hours of solid sleep.

Repeat

Quality of life – the work you do on your mind and body – is not something you do for one day; it is a habit, a nanoscopic change that you make daily.

Tell me what you do to be more productive when you lack motivation? Comment down below.

For my older posts from the ‘A day in the life‘ series, see below.

A day in the life – in 10 photographs

A day in the life – making it count

Until next time, XOXO.

A day in the life – making it count

Growth and change are both painful, uncomfortable and sometimes undesirable. But, nothing is more painful as staying stuck somewhere you don’t belong. So start here and now. Start with fear, with wonder, with reservation or without a clue. It’s a beautiful day to start. Even rock bottom is a beautiful start. Just start making it count.

Go on more adventures, be around good energy and happy people, learn new things, try something different, nurture a grateful heart, look after your body, be gentle with your words and your actions, see your beauty without a compliment or a mirror, begin to tell people what you feel for them, be brave enough to start a conversation that matters, and grow. It doesn’t matter what you do for a living. If you ache to see your heart’s longing and your unrealistic dreams come to life, then just start making it count.

For now, one good sulk a week will have to do. Don’t let a small disappointment, a huge resentment or a really nasty mood define you, confine you, or outshine you. Choose to move on and leave it behind you. Because, from this day on, you need to make your days count.

Everybody’s gotta fight some bad days to earn the best days of their lives and I’d be lying if I said I have not had a fair share of mine. But coping with change of all sorts — moving homes (and cities) often, being a first-time unenthusiastic mother, choosing to be a homemaker, seeing my support system of girlfriends move continents, dealing with body image issues and growing out of it, feeling like I can’t cope with motherhood, feeling anxious and panic-stricken all the freakin’ time, so on and so forth — has made me who I am today, a positively happy human who feels like she’s got it all under control (well, not always, but on most days!).

My progress has been slow and deliberate, and with a lot of setbacks. But, here are some little things that have helped me make a comeback from cuckoo land. The meat of the matter finally lies in your will to change your present. Start with one tiny thing and do it differently every single day.

The right attitude, learning to be kind and humble no matter what, and consciously practicing gratitude made my first steps easier, but the slightly off-beat elements made all the difference in my growth towards a healthy mind and a happier existence.

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Empowered women, empower women

It is true that little girls with dreams become women with vision. Don’t we all have that one girlfriend who’s always got our backs? Who makes you feel like a ‘somebody’ even on the days when you feel like a ‘nobody’. Who tells you to step back when you wear your heart on your sleeve or warns you when you fall madly in love for the very first time. Who may not have kids but always says the right things when you feel lonely, forlorn and resentful in your mommy life. She is your intuitive better half. The one who gives you drive, direction and gumption. She empowers you to be the best version of yourself, loves you fiercely and tells you — ‘Don’t be afraid to be smart’. You need to be that girl. Because, someone will always need you to be that girl.

Be a feminist, but not an extremist. Be a die-hard girl’s girl. No man gets a woman like a woman gets a woman. Stand up for your tribe.

“A woman with a voice is by definition a strong woman” ∼ Melinda Gates

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Reserve your table for the good ones

The older you get, the more you realize the value of privacy, of cultivating your circle, and not letting everyone in. You understand that maturity of thought and action belong to a place where not everyone has yet arrived. You can be kind, generous, patient. You can be open, honest and real. You can forgive and entrust people with second chances. But finally, you must understand that not everybody deserves a seat on the table of your life. Let go. Liberate and be liberated.

“What you meet in another being is the projection of your own evolution” ∼ Ram Dass

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Don’t make a donation, make a difference

It doesn’t matter how much you give, what matters is how much love you put into giving. Every now and then, a small act of kindness, spreading some love to the less fortunate, doing away with a little bit of your precious time to help someone, or simply showing up with a big broad smile and warm open arms is enough to bring so much of that joy back into your life.

Giving is the key word. It also means giving your children basic human values rooted in trust and affection, because they imbibe your words, your actions and even your subtle undercurrents. When you change their values, you change their behaviour. They understand that the whole of mankind is one and only one — one race, one class, one society — and learn to respect it.

Finally, a person who feels appreciated will be and will do better than what is expected of him. So go all out with it — the love, the kindness, the selfless goodwill. Like a boomerang, what you give is what you will get.

“To move forward, you have to give back” ∼ Oprah Winfrey

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BE. HERE. NOW.

The condition of alienation, of being awake but asleep, of being out of one’s mind, of being lost in himself, is the condition of every normal man. Being ‘present’ is probably the toughest facet of self-love and self-improvement. To stay present in everyday life, you must be extremely aware and deeply rooted within yourself; otherwise, the mind, which has incredible momentum, will drag you along its wild current.

Cultivating mindfulness in everything you do, whether you are eating, spending time with your dears or simply sitting idle — is such a rewarding way of feeling like you have so much time. When you are present in everything you do, when you experience each moment fully, you look afresh at what you normally take for granted.

No app can teach you to be self-aware and present, but they may help you understand how to begin. Headspace or Calm (Apple’s 2017 App of the Year) are both great places to kickstart your journey.

“The trouble is, you think you have time” ∼ Buddha

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Be satisfied with an eight

As wonderful as it is to always earn a perfect ten in everything you do, it’s neither possible, nor healthy to expect such perfection from yourself or from others. Nobody conjures up the perfect dinner spread every evening, nobody (not even me) blow dries their hair and looks fabulous every morning, nobody’s sex life is such that every experience is a ten. You may have to be satisfied with regular eights or sixes and even an occasional three. C’est la vie and that’s the way it goes. Okay?

The good life is sweet and slow and rich and flawed. Forget what the world has told you the good life looks like. This is it. ∼ Emily Ley

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Don’t be the ‘pro’ in procrastinate

That voice in your head that keeps nagging you to follow your heart, to do the things that bring you immense joy or to be the person you always wanted to be — listen to it and comply with it. What makes your heartbeat race, what gives you the prickly goosebumps, what makes you want to spring up from your bed, what satisfies your soul’s longing —make that dream a reality. Stop nudging it aside, stop finding excuses, stop fighting the currents, stop deliberating, stop being confused. If nothing else, find a notepad and make a plan. Do it now. Not later, not tomorrow, not when you are ‘free’ — DO IT NOW.

So, here’s to chasing your dreams in the cutest pair of shoes you own!

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams” ∼ Eleanor Roosevelt

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Don’t try

It’s pretty obvious that everyone wants to be happy all the bloody time. But that’s not what happens when life happens. Wanting to be happy is not enough to make you happy. Daily affirmations in front of the mirror are not going to make an unhappy person happy, because happiness comes from identifying your problems and then solving them, not from living in denial and ‘practicing happiness’. Don’t let the self-help books fool you. You are either happy or you aren’t. Period. If you need some clarity, some perspective and some shaking up, do yourself a favor and get a copy of ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck’ by the genius blogger Mark Manson. He helps you choose the problems that you enjoy solving, or those that need immediate attention and action, and teaches you in his most crude, profane, hilarious and refreshing style, the subtle art of not giving a fuck. He defines happiness very simply — Don’t try.

“In life, we have a limited amount of fucks to give. So you must choose your fucks wisely” ~ Mark Manson

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Believe that your time will come

“If there is ever a day when you feel tired of saying ‘good for them’ and you are wondering when things will be good for you, take heart with great hope, and consider all the things this season of growing will lead into. Like an ocean that awaits many miles away, you may not be there yet, but you are surely on your way. So take your time while you are journeying, travel light, be safe. For there will come a time when you finally arrive on those shores and you will be so glad you did not settle. You will be so glad you did not give up. You will be so glad you did not sync yourself to someone else’s pace and chose instead to anchor yourself in the steady rhythm of grace. And after everything you went through, you arrived where you needed to be on time, and everything will be fine. Not perfect, but fine. For every beautiful thing will happen in its time” — Morgan Harper Nichols.

I’m so grateful for my time.

And today more than ever, I am grateful for my son, for what having a child has taught me, for how far I have come and for the person I have thus become.

My son turned two somewhere between yesterday and today (leap baby 2016). This post is dedicated to him.

Until next time, XOXO