Some say this world will end in fire
Some say it’ll end in ice
So tell me what is it you desire
A ball of smoke or a veil of fog
For there’s no escaping hell’s ire
Some say this world will end in fire
Some say it’ll end in ice
So tell me what is it you desire
A ball of smoke or a veil of fog
For there’s no escaping hell’s ire
This is the first time in more than a couple of years when it’s mental health awareness month and I’ve written nothing for it. To be honest, I am struggling. I think we all our. The very fabric of our sanity and well being has been torn apart due to the ravages of a pandemic which seems to be riding on one wave after another.
It is overwhelming, exhausting and debilitating to even just get through a day from morning to night with some semblance of hope and stability, for there are no security blankets waiting for us at the end of it.
The outpouring of grief all around and the desperate pleas for help coming in from all quarters have made my mind both anxious and numb at the same time. And I don’t know how to handle them together. It’s never been like this before.
Yes, I’m anxious for everyone hanging in there by a flimsy thread, but yes I’m also numb towards the news articles reporting more and more deaths everyday. Yes, I’m empathetic towards the plight faces by all of us, but yes I’m also apathetic in the face of it all. And it’s alright. There’s no place for guilt. Sometimes when you feel too much, your mind responds to such stimuli by making you feel nothing at all. And I’d much rather be in this state for the time being rather than have my heart wrenched out of it’s place over and over again.
So if it helps you get by, you can shut everyone else out and prioritise yourself above all. No one can judge you for it. Allow yourself to to feel and not feel. Allow yourself to grieve and to recover. Permit yourself to focus on your health.
Do whatever rocks your boat. And then when you’re feeling better, help other struggles.
My kind of a good time!
Writing with Music: a Creative Delicacy
This year has been different, to say the least. We lived through the most unexpected of times, witnessing the very highs and lows of humanity. We disbanded, came together, learned, unlearned and relearned quite a few things during the course of a year. Yet, each one of us, whether doing well or struggling has held out unwavering hope that the next year will bring better tidings.
So for this roller coaster ride called 2020, I have nothing but immense gratitude in my heart. I’ve charted quite a journey within and outside of myself. I feel more blessed than proud of this fact. I have lost, gained and regained a few people along the way. Some for life, invaluably cherished.
With 2021 begins a new chapter of life for me. A shared chapter. One full of hope, love and a sense of belonging. I am quite tickled to see where it will lead. I hope the very same for all of you.
Bring it on 2021, I’ll be doubly armed in my welcome 😊.
I don’t know about you lot but almost everyone I’ve spoken with has unanimously agreed that work from home has blurred all lines between office and personal space, time and demands. Somehow, we’re all always on the clock these days. Work can come in at any odd hour and be expected to be turned around in the next couple of hours with complete impunity.
Because what else could one rather be doing. Granted, our social lives have gone to the dogs. But we still have a life nevertheless.
So today I just want to remind you to hit pause, take stock and draw boundaries once more. Separate the different aspects of your life and effectively compartmentalise them. Neither should overstep, overlap or overwhelm the other. Limit the exposure your work and colleagues have on your time and mindspace. However, also be mindful that your personal comfort is not negatively affecting your work either. (Sitting on our bed and working in our PJs is the only acceptable intermingling, in my opinion)
The flexibility that we have these days to work in pockets of time of our choosing, without having to waste even a second on long commutes or getting dressed is also a blessing in disguise (the above paragraphs not withstanding). It gives us the freedom to indulge in self care, the least of which is rekindling a lost passion or hobby.
I’ve taken up art these days. Mandalas, to be more specific. I find it to be therapeutic and meditative. I also work out most days and have enough spare time to update my favourite playlists. All this despite feeling like I’ve been working every second I’ve been awake every day.
Balance, my friends, is the key. Remember to separate your interests and then balance them. It’s alright if the scales are sometimes skewed as long as equilibrium isn’t too far out of reach.
Thoughts?
At night we are all strangers
Even to ourselves
And at night we wander
Trying to reclaiming lost sense
Is it any wonder then
that at night we are visited
by all our unspoken dreams
Monsoons have a way of reminding me of England. Not the one I visited a couple of years ago, but the one from my childhood. Seen only through the eyes of the mind. Entire country sides conjured out of a typical Christie whodunnit. Idyllic villages and quaint little cottages of all my favourite classics. I can no longer see gloom writ large on grey skies. I am lost in the faint whiff of muffins, freshly baked. In the soft words carried by the wind of ladies gossiping, trading recipes and preaching self-care. In the high-pitched, joyous shrieks of children running to catch up with the very paper boats they set afloat.
Yes, I remember the rolling meadows and quite countryside of old England. I also remember the happy days of my own childhood. And, I’m a happy camper lost in an old world charm. Oblivious, yes. But better off.
So when I spot the first drizzle gently falling on my window sill, I no longer stare at my laptop screen with a frown of consternation. Nor am I found toggling between calls and IMs on my phone or mindlessly, infinitely scrolling through social media watching other people live their lives. No, at such times I take break from life, look out at the trees singing in rejoice and wonder about the happiness that just is.
There is a storm raging in my soul
That you are yet to conquer
There is a silence shrouding the uproar
That you’re yet to pierce
There is a heart locked in chains
That you’re yet to unshackle
And there is a mind whose mysteries
You’re yet to fathom
I’m all that you’ve imagined
And more than what you knew
Would you still pick up the gauntlet that I threw?
A late night conversation
Followed by countless sleepless days
With shared habits and odd interests
You made a home in my heart
Through endless ways
And I’m left
Awake
With my heart plundered
While your memories
My mind
Seamlessly replays
I write poems at midnight for an audience of one
I dance, whenever I feel like, till my hair become undone
I cry long and loud, some times, just for fun
I slow down when life demands it
And in the mornings, I run
You could call me a paradox
Cool and calm as the moon in the night
And yet
I always rise
Blazing like the sun.