For weeks now I have struggled with thoughts-that-refuse-to-be-bound-and-must-run-free, but a number of them collapsed into my mind over several moments of complete peace, over the past few weeks, whenever I caught myself at the sea-side, watching the horizon swallow the sun ever so slowly. Most often, I realised I was listening to this track:
My discovery of this band deserves a whole post, which I am in the process of writing, but I had to share this here, for what an integral part it has played in what is hopefully my walk into the gates of a new dawn, soon.
Sometimes all it takes to ruffle your near-perfect life is having a really good time. Absurd as that might sound, believe me when I say that coming off the back off an awesome few weeks and living the life like it should be lived, has sort of been like breaking out of this mould I’ve comfortably slipped into. This mould I happily tag everyday life and leave in a corner to gather dust. Except that corner I think I’ve tucked it away into is my here and now. It is the everyday that I live. And these past few weeks have made me see there is far more to me as a person, thank I can fit into this mould.
When I was out there combing beaches, cooking my heart out, shooting pictures, eating out, entertaining, reading books, staying up late chatting, reveling in music, and most importantly, writing about it all, I was happy. I was at-home. I was me.
The dangers of a series of awesome week(ends, especially) are many. First off, when they catch you by surprise, in groups of three and four, they tend to shatter your carefully constructed notions of what a “good life” is.
Second, they open your eyes to a whole new kind of happy. The kind that comes far more naturally and spontaneously, without the challenge or the struggle. Because it taps into that innate source of happiness inside of you, that you sometimes forget all about. That most often makes you question what that happiness means to you, and you wonder what you have been chasing after for so long.
Third, they tend to push you into a lovely, contemplative bubble. A space you can call your own, a space nobody needs to get, but you yourself. Where how you’ve changed isn’t just an airy concept. It is something you see, acknowledge and don’t need validation for. Where clarity teases you like a feather brushing against your cheek, yet just that little bit out of reach when you stretch to grasp it.
Fourth, it forces you to day-dream. And that is the best thing that could have happened to me in recent times. I realised I’ve forgotten what it is to dream. About that cafe with-a-difference I will open someday, about the book I might want to write, about what I can do with the oven I really should get down to buying, about the how much food writing there is left to be done, about how someday maybe working with children might be a good idea, about how that elusive magazine writing opportunity might not just fall in my lap unless I go out and get it. About the things I want to do. About all that and more.
But most importantly, a series of awesome weeks brings back that old friend, Mr. Reality Check. That feeling of happily bounding along a familiar path, only to suddenly be gobsmacked by an unfamiliar hurdle. And its made me really wonder, shouldn’t all that joy be a part of my here and now and not some pleasant re-discovery I make by chance? Shouldn’t I be living those dreams now, than later? Shouldn’t I be just as happy and at-home in everything I do? Most of the time, if not all the time? Shouldn’t my everyday life be larger than I can ever fill in an imaginary mould? What is the point of this life, if not a to constantly search for one bright sunrise, one enchanting dawn after another?