Little pieces of magic

In the early years when VC and I had just begun seeing each other, we weren’t too big on using the phone. We’d spend all day together at the same workplace, and inevitably a gang of us would head out after work for a bite or a drink (or both) and it was only the hours between sleep and the new work day that kept us apart. So we didn’t really need to talk too much in the after-hours.

In general, in life, VC isn’t big on communication. If something is pressingly urgent or needs to be immediately shared — these are the only two counts on which I usually expect a call. A barrage of messages, an entire conversation on SMS — this is an impossibility with him. The thing is, I am a big communicator. Not so much telephone calls (though I sense something changing here too), but I can have entire conversations on chat/messaging services. And I can make calls to VC for no reason at all.

Anyhow, with this long backstory out of the way, this is just to note that VC has suddenly taken to calling me for no reason. We’re suddenly the people who begin and end most days with a telephone call. Sometimes just to say hi, and bye. The thing I thought would never be possible: video calls. We make them now. Several times a week. And I have to say, I’m not the only one initiating them.

I am enjoying this shift in our lives. Where suddenly there seems to be a place for long, detailed, emotionally-charged chatting, baring our souls and sharing our biggest excitements and dejections of the day, conversations that go late into the night. This is the stuff we bypassed entirely in our relationship.

***

Sunday morning walk has become a marker of a good week. A thing to look forward to. I’ll admit the idli-vada is still the draw, but it does feel really good to be out in the crisp morning air when the sun has only just come out.

I nearly didn’t make it two weeks in a row and the joy of actually having made it, and having finished a walk amidst many, many giggles and all kinds of conversation with D, and that breakfast with a double dose of coffee at the end — it’s near perfection.

However, the thing that just laces it all beautifully for me, like a cherry on the top, is coming home and getting right back into bed. Under the quilt and all, to either read, watch some Netflix or just nap — it is just divine.

Last Sunday, I realised this is a small, seemingly insignificant pleasure, the joy of which I almost didn’t fully register. But it has become something of an important ritual for me, and it does lift my day, my week up in more ways than I realise. To acknowledge that this past Sunday shifted something.

***

I have also resumed yoga again. AND I FEEL SO GOOD. There is that sweet, stretchy pain of having used my body for something more than just sitting around, which has been my predominant state for the last 12 months. It’s been a little over a week and it’s hard to fight the constant thought of how woefully out of shape I am, of how the proportion of time it takes to gain strength, stamina and muscle versus the time it takes to lose it all is so goddamned skewed. But, I feel really, really good. I like the deep stretching, the twisty, bendy moves that turn my mind and body into knots, I love the peace in the pranayam, and I go through the entire class in anticipation of the deep relaxation and full-body scan of the last 7 minutes of shavasana.

I’ve had sore abs and hams and glutes pretty much after every class. And then I went and started getting out for a walk on the alternate days when I’m not at yoga. Plus there’s the Sunday walk. So yeah, I’m moving again.

Last year was obviously a year of sitting still, conserving energy. And while it has had its place in the whole process, I hadn’t realised just how much I love to be active, and how happy it actually makes me. On Thursday last week after a walk, I actually came home and burst into a hysterical fit of laughter and cried happy tears from the sheer surge of endorphins like I haven’t felt in forever.

As my next Goa trip approaches, I’m wondering about my options to keep the exercise going. And almost like on cue, my kickboxing trainer messaged me out fo the blue. We hadn’t interacted in upwards of 6 months, and he just checked in on me suddenly, just like that.

I feel like it was a sign.

***

L was down in Bangalore after what feels like forever. Actually, the last time she was down was when we met and hung out at M’s wedding six years ago. Six years isn’t very long, but it feels like an age simply because of how much has happened in the years between. We haven’t been inactive touch through this time. We pretty much fell out of touch entirely, and I only surfaced to get in touch with her last year when I visited Pondicherry and this year when I was in Auroville — to see if we could catch up. Both times she was travelling, and we went back to our regular lives.

So we met, and I realised only after we met that she had made the entire trip down to catch up with me, and another friend. I am so used to assuming nobody would ever do that for me, that I had just taken it for granted that she had some other business to deal with in Bangalore and was catching up with me on the side.

We had a lovely hang. It was meant to be a quick coffee at Koshy’s, but it ended up being a long, long, chatty time. And when we weren’t done even after our coffee was done, we walked up and down Church Street chatting some more. Then ducked into Blossoms and bought a bunch of books. Still no sign of calling it a night, we went back to Koshy’s for dinner.

It was just so affirming. Here’s someone I have just not been in touch with, we have lives that are wildly polar opposites of each other, and yet when we met we picked up effortlessly. The conversation wasn’t stilted, the connection was warm, genuine and lingering, refusing to end.

In all my years struggling to get a grip on the loop of friendship and loneliness in my life, I’ve focused on the lack so much. It only takes a day like this to turn it all around.

***

I also caught up with S and D — we hadn’t done this since the course ended. I came home just so grateful. Here are two people I only got to know about six months ago, we don’t have history. I don’t know too much about the intricacies of their lives, and vice versa. But we’ve connected on a foundation of authenticity and vulnerability, just by virtue of doing this course together and experiencing each other’s worst selves in a closed room. There’s something special about that kind of bond. There’s warmth in the hugs we give, there’s a glint in our eyes when we talk about what we’re dealing with, and there’s the incredibly rare and wonderful bit where we meet like this, over coffee, after 3 months and waste no time in pleasantries, jumping straight to OMG I’m struggling so much this month!

***

I’ve been practicing reading the Tarot for myself for months now. Ever since D got me started last year it’s been a regular feature/habit and gradually growing interest in my life. At the start of the year, I told myself I want to do this more — for myself and for others. This week, I did four readings for four different people. And each of then were an utterly enjoyable experience for me.

What I love most about reading the cards is how there’s almost always a message for me in every reading, how much it makes me tap into my intuition and how much freshness it brings to my life as a newfound interest.

***

This is gratitude for all that has shifted this week. Something about a cycle closing — I’ve been feeling this since the turn of the year and the last full moon that gave me a burst of energy seems to have also completed some kind of shedding that has been in process. I’ve been so wrapped up in thought and working on processing it through my head, that I’ve lost contact with my feelings and my body. I realised today in an instant that I have loosened up physically, as much as I have relaxed about certain tight corners in my life.

Maybe it’s new. Or maybe it’s been there and I hadn’t noticed it because I’ve been so busy looking for cognitive answers.

***

This is gratitude for the winter. For the walks. For the parks. For the morning air.

For the strawberries that I could make jam with.

For this blog and the fresh connections it has brought to my life.

For friends who’ve been there in ways I have been unable to see. For new friends. For new people who are there, just as people, and that’s okay.

For friends who have come, are in the process of leaving, and also those who have left. For teaching me not to hold on so tight. For finally showing me what I’ve been fighting and how futile it is.

For therapy and N and how hard she pushes me.

For the crayons I bought, for the pictures of myself that I dug out and the drawing and writing that came from it.

For the numerous times that I found myself at Airlines this past week. For the coffee.

For home. For amma and for how much time we got to spend together since I’ve been back.

For R, S and H and how they’ve taken me under their wing. Counting me in whenever they go out as a family. It’s incredibly heartening.

One year ago: Pretty lights
Two years ago: Because I want to remember
Three years ago: Saaru-anna

 

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Winter joys

So, yeah I missed the best, coldest winter days because they passed when I was in Goa. The first week of January saw lows of 9-10 degrees, I hear. I was so jealous.

Thankfully 12-13 degree lows we’re having no are pretty cold. My home and Amma’s too, while well-lit don’t receive too much direct sunshine. There’s plenty light but no spots in the sun to sit in. So I’ve been in full sleeves clothes and feeling my fingers go cold and refusing to co-operate when I try and type.

JOY!

I may be revelling in the dregs of winter a little more dramatically than I need to, with:

The ten minutes of snuggling in my blanket, that I allow myself after getting out only to turn the fan off

Resuming yoga and breaking into a sweat even when it’s 13 degrees out

That scalding hot bath after, putting on two layers of clothes when my body is still warm, and trapping that post-bath warmth within

Sharp, long sunny winter morning shadows

Shawls, stoles and sweaters in the day

Socks in bed at night

Hot sugarless coffee with breakfast, after lunch, at teatime and sometimes after dinner

Soaking my feet in a bucket of salty water as I’m sitting by a candle writing my journal for the day, right before bed

Lohri, 2019

One year ago: You’ve been on my mind

Solo Saturday night

Finding joy in my own light and the opening up of new narratives and possibilities.

Food and friendship

When the kind ladies at The Lookout Journal wrote in to ask if I could write a feature on food and how it forms such an integral part of documenting vignettes of my life, I was flattered. But also mostly shocked. That a) my blog interested someone enough to ask me to write for them and b) the angle they’d taken in talking about food was quite a refreshing departure from most things I’ve seen food-documenting in a while.

I didn’t end up writing the essay. What with being smack in the middle of travel, moving cities, setting up home, and continuing to work through it all. So they were kind enough to turn the opportunity into a Q&A with me instead.

I was deeply touched by how insightful the questions were, moving away from the most obvious and usual extension of food — nostalgia. Particularly inspiring for me to get down to answering their questions was the fact that really to got the heart of the place food occupies in my life especially this year — facilitating friendship with others and with myself. 

So here it is if you’d like to give it a lookie and a read.

***

It’s true. Food is such a vehicle for normalcy and finding grounded-ness.

This is the first meal I cooked at the new home in Goa and immediately I felt at home in a way that only cooking a full meal can make me feel. Even though it was just khichdi and aloo-fry. 

VC had been eating take out for over a month since he moved in. I had to buy a pressure cooker to begin with. But I went a little extra and bought a set of idli plates, a hand-mixie too. And I stocked up on a lot of masalas, which I’d been avoiding thinking VC is not going to ever cook an elaborate meal that will require them. Soon enough I realised the stupidity of that thought process. This is my kitchen too. I’m going to be visiting often enough. As soon as I gave myself the space to settle in, spices, pressure cooker and all, I immediately felt at home.

We have since had idlis and chutney, dal rice and anda-masala, aglio olio with mushrooms and sausages. On New Years Ever we even managed a barbecue for two — VC outdoing himself with a malai chicken (which had no malai hahaha) and paneer skewers. I tossed together some buttered veggies to go with it. It was simpler than I imagined, and we had a quiet, satisfying evening of it by ourselves.

***

Somewhere in the midst of it all R came to visit, and it happened to be the eve of VC’s birthday. So we bought our favourite chocolate cake for old time’s sake to surprise him with. And then on the birthday we had dinner at a quaint little “pizza bar” in North Goa.

I’m really enjoying exploring the food here. I didn’t do enough of it when I lived in Panjim, especially in the years just before I left. So I’m glad for the opportunity to be closer north. And for friends who’ve arrived bearing enthusiasm to make me get out and about. 

One year ago: Day 2: Gratitude. That is all.
Three years ago: Day 2: Love

Day 361: Take me to your heart

I’ve enjoyed spending a whole day at home — a first in this home. And I’d like to swap locations with VC for a bit.

One year ago: 2018: Shut up and drive
Two years ago: Day 361: Spinning the wheel

Day 351: Love in a thousand different flavours

Weekending.

I spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday pretty much like this. In front of my laptop, either working, watching Netflix or “studying”.

On Friday night, in a completely wild occurrence, VC and I chatted on the phone for two whole hours. I haven’t done that in aaaages. And with VC, never. But it was nice, chatting while we each fixed ourselves a drink and solo dinner. (So what of I had breakfast for dinner?)

On Saturday, Amma left for Nagpur and I was suddenly overcome with the thought that I was all alone. Except one never really is, and I’m learning to remember that and reach out (rather than wait to be reached out to) to others when I feel that longing for connection. So I invited myself to join R and S for dinner in what is becoming a welcome and regular occurrence with us.

Sunday morning has a new weekly ritual. A long walk. For four consecutive weekends now D and I have caught up to do this. And it baffles me how I struggle to wake up before 7.30 on a weekday but waking up at 6 on a Sunday seems to come quite easily. I joked about not having put in so much focus or dedication into much this year, as I seem to be doing for the Sunday morning walk. Except, I wasn’t joking. Perhaps it helps that we top the walk off with a single-idli-vada and a tall, strong coffee each.

The rest of my Sunday was mostly spent cleaning the house, doing some cooking — another full meal — and a visit to the in laws. Beer at lunchtime almost always means a long nap will follow. But I also binged on You Me Her and finally finished the show.

S came over for dinner then, in what should be frequent occurrence with us, but for various reasons just hasn’t been. It was a delightfully chill time. Whisky, chicken 65, rasam and rice with pretty much non stop easy, heartfelt conversation.

I ended last week feeling quite raw about my realisations about loneliness and almost immediately, almost in anticipation of the downward spiral that it could have caused, I was forced to see how much opportunity for connection there is. Should I choose to see and have it.

Today, I’ve been in a bit of a daze. Cramps + procrastinating with packing meant I had left everything down to the wire. As usual. I got all my stuff together in the last two hours before I left for the airport.

I’m off to Goa in a bit. To spend Christmas, New Years Eve and VCs birthday with him, only to return in the new year when I will not be posting as frequently. I’m looking forward to the next 2.5 weeks.

It’s time to catch up with VC, spending time with him since I have been missing it so, S is coming down from Paris, I’ll get to hang with D and the puppies, I’ll get to spend time at home that’s slowly coming together.

It’s all kinds of emotional to think I’m ending the year in a Goa that is one half of where home is. This feels interesting and like it means something and I’m excited to see where we go from here.

Two years ago: Day 351: Misty mountain hop

Day 347: Yes we all need a room of our own

Not very long after coming back to Bangalore and being on my own here, I realised just how much I have missed having a workspace of my own. It seems ultra-rich to have arrived at this awareness of the lack of it, at a time when I am actually surrounded by nothing but my own solitude, and I have the entire house to myself. It’s odd, and a bit upside- down, I’m aware. But I have found myself thinking fondly back to the time I had an actual room — a dedicated space in which to retreat for all things workAnd not travel around with my laptop from dining table to bed. It’s more than just a desk-space I long for, but a space to fuel my energy. I imagine it to be a room with a desk, yes. But more, a place where I can have a vision board up, have all my books and cards within easy reach (given how I’m currently thumbing through many books for many different purposes), a little altar for a newfound calling, and also space to chill where I can think, read, ruminate, work, take calls, practice tarot and anything else that I might fancy.

It’s a bit ironic that I have a whole extra bedroom in this home (in addition to the rest of the house to myself) but it’s not once I can use for much at the moment. With our collective life currently split between Goa and here, I don’t feel inclined to put in time, money or effort into turning it into anything either. But, there is this longing for that space as I see it in my head. Some part of me also knows that this space as I see it isn’t in the now, but a space in the future. A space that is still in the making, if that makes any sense at all.

Yes, yes, I know this reeks of bratty privilege. Such a first-world problem this, to have a whole home to call my own, and still want another room. The thing is, I have been enjoying being in my cocoon at home so much that I very quickly resort to lying in bed. Even when I’m working, I find myself working out of my bed. And you know how that goes right? It very quickly devolves into a Netflix binge that leads to inevitable sleep. I am at my productive best when I am at my folks’, and the instances when I had A and S separately, over for “work dates”. This is a strange place I find myself in. On the one hand, I am allowing myself the luxury of this non-rigid existence, enjoying the mid-morning Netflix binge as much as I am working late into Sunday night. There is space for both, right from the cozy environs of my bed. Yet, on the other, I find that the distinct feeling of wanting to get into action towards new areas of interest are also beginning stir quite vigorously. And that calls for a totally different kind of space. Outside of my head. Outside of my bed. And in a room of my own.

Title and current mood inspired by:

One year ago: I shake off all that no longer serves me
Two years ago: Day 347: 6 am essentials

Day 346: Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

Gratitude today, for being in Bangalore. Because if it weren’t for being here, I wouldn’t have:

  1. taken the course I did, which has led me to the very best sources of everything else that I need, such as:
  2. the kind of doctor who spent over an hour with me, patiently listening, getting exactly what I was saying, only spoke when asked and opened her side of the conversation by asking if I was bi or hetero. And then proceeded to smash every single pre-conceived notion I had harboured
  3. the therapist I have been looking for
  4. the right friends for the right time. S showed up at home with flowers yesterday. It’s not with everybody that I can spend half a day in perfect silence, each of us chipping away silently and diligently at our work, and then taking a break to eat lunch, followed by a few hours of non stop, high-stimulation conversation

This week has reinforced a kind of belonging that comes with a sense of feeling like the universe’s luckiest child. It’s only Wednesday, and I’m brimming over with gratitude.

Day 345: Abiding faith and peace of mind

After what happened yesterday, sitting here with fresh awareness, new perspectives, the permission to see my life — how it has been this far and how the future now looks somewhat open, yet changed — so differently, I am overwhelmed by a sense of newness. Even when I am not consciously aware of it in the waking, I can feel my head buzzing with thoughts, my body that unknowingly had carried the weight of a truth I was unwilling to allow it to feel has suddenly eased up. A weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has suddenly lifted off and I have become aware of it only in it’s absence. This feeling has occurred only too many times this year, and I feel fortunate for the newfound ability to feel things that my brain cannot explain, and the ability to feel my way through situations that my brain is unable to navigate. It has 100% led me to better, healthier outcomes that are wholesome, fulfilling and that enrich my life in a way no cognitive, intellectual, logical solution could have.

In coming face to face with the truth of my life and experiences, I have suddenly woken up to the truth of generations of women before me. Of the circumstances they have traversed, the experiences they have had, the fights they have fought and all that they have endured, walked through and held — all so I can have this life here today. I feel immensely connected to the string that binds us women together — a line of women so imminently strong in such unique and unusual ways. In so many ways, this feels like the inflection point in not just my own story, but in changing the narrative women know and believe. In more ways that one, yesterday felt like it was the day we collectively let ourselves put that burden down. It does not need to be carried on in shame and silence. The story as we know it can and absolutely must change.

And so, today I’m finding it difficult to just move on with my life and talk about the mundane. Because that is the power of articulating the truth — there is no unseeing it. Life, as you know it, is never the same again. I wanted to write about the books I’ve read this past month, I’ve been slowly chipping away at a long recap of the way this year has been, and I have been wondering about how to talk about where I feel I am going from here — in life, in writing, in work — and yet, today I am unable to bring myself to talk about any of it at all. Everything has paled in the face of the enormity of what seems to have opened up yesterday. Everything else feels insignificant, secondary and that it can rest.

So, for another day (or two or three or ten), I am going to just let the need to post go. There are bigger, more consuming things going on within that are drawing me inwards and begging me to conserve my energy.

Yesterday, I felt torn-up and a bit agitated within. A little fragmented. Today, I feel a deep, deep sense of peace and resignation to the way in which life is intuitively taking me through unknown territory. I feel gratitude for the ways in which I found myself here, and the ways in which I know I will be led on. So I am going to just listen quietly, and offer my silent cooperation.

Day 344: Take all my world and shake it

It’s been a day of waking up to hidden trauma I didn’t even know I had. And I am ending the day feeling extremely raw, vulnerable and sensitive. Overwhelmed by the weight of words that are equal parts liberating — in that they help own up to realities we often want to shut ourselves off to — and have a consequence — in that it has given me a lot to think about where to go from here.

Words matter. Language matters. And it is such an important building block to healing in a good and whole way. And I am grateful to have been guided to spaces and to people who create safe environments and use the utmost sensitive language in bringing sensitive realities of trauma to light.

Today has felt like stepping into a new zone, walking into a door that has just been opened. Onwards and upwards, it is.

Two years ago: Day 344: Looking back

Day 341: Turning all the night time into the day

I’m closing in on one month since I came back to Bangalore. Life on my own, in the everyday-living of it, is largely the same. The bits that are different are small, and I don’t notice them until they creep up in seemingly insignificant moments. Like nobody to fetch me that forgotten bottle of water once I’m already under the covers, for example. Mostly it’s a chill, easy existence, this.

I didn’t know it then, but the lightness of being on my own has been precious. And by being, I mean just being. The parts where I’m not doing anything. As someone who has never lived alone before, this feels like coming home to myself.

Today though, I dodged work and went to catch a morning movie followed by lunch which featured a spot of daytime drinking, some wandering about and roaming without a plan, I realised what I didn’t even know I have missed the most, and what I am loving now — this meandering, plan-less, easy-going being. And how much of it seeps in beyond just doing things, into the essence that is me.

Many times, several times a week in fact, I do feel a touch of guilt for having, living and enjoying this privilege. It is a constant effort to fight down that guilt and come back to a place of being present to it and translate those feelings of guilt to gratitude. And so today, wandering about, I had a moment where I felt that pure unadulterated joy of gratitude. The kind that made me feel small in the face of the enormity that is the possibilities that this openness presents. I felt young and free. I felt like a traveller in my own city. Open, eager, curious and easily happy.

Two years ago: Day 341: Grasp

Day 340: Now I’m free falling

I’ve been feeling drawn to cooking again. And I’ve been feeling equal enthusiasm to make quick dinners of things as simple as eggs and toast as I am for the the slow, laborious, long-drawn out way that the food I grew up eating is made. I realise that primarily, it is the act of using my own hands and brain to create a meal that gives me that kick of dopamine. It happened last week when I made a large pot of pulao, some faux cholle and a mashed pumpkin sabji. And it happened again today when I cooked this meal for A who came over to spend the day.

What is it about this kind of food that takes one right back to ones roots, that spells home? Today it was the wispy fragrance of the just-boiled beans from a freshly released pressure cooker, or the crackling pungent hit of coriander seeds and crinkly red chillies sauteed in coconut oil, or the weedy robust and palpably green smell of freshly barely wilted dill spun in the mixie with fresh spices and coconut, that kindled a warm fullness in my Heart.

A full plate of this sort makes me indescribably happy. And to make and share this with friends — complete with granularity, texture and a transference of the tedium that this sort of meal requires — is extra special. 

There is something about labouring over the food that sustains me. An experience I take for granted on a daily basis when I casually waltz over to Amma’s and eat at her table, and of her giving. Perhaps it’s the slowness, or the act of proceeding in a sequence of actions, or just the sheer meeting point of all the senses, that taps right into that deep, primal dormant fire that is stoked every time a good meal is in the works, and immediately invokes a feeling of connection to The Source. Of belonging. Of roots. Of home. 

Two years ago: Day 340: Happy high

Day 339: Trying to get high enough to cut the clouds

Today was a good day.

For some reason, I woke up extra early. This hasn’t happened in a while. The nippy mornings we’ve been having have meant that even on the off chance that I wake up early, I linger around under my blanket much longer after. Getting out of bed is a task in this weather. But today was different. I actually woke up, managed to finish some work ahead of time today. I also did this reading for D, which uncannily seemed as much a reading for me, as it might be for anyone else who stumbled on it today. Uncanny because of the pondering about friendship that I have been doing, which has been pointing me in this general direction — of surrender and acceptance once again. Uncanny because last night S and I met for dinner and our conversations stirred up these feelings again.

I went across town to meet S for breakfast (and run a few pending errands) and here too, our conversations brought home this fact again. Of accepting changing dynamics, keeping my heart open to the inevitable evolution and to drop expectations and embrace things as they are. Unconditionally.

Breakfast was an elaborate affair that started off on a breakfast-y note, but since we lingered around chatting, while I waited for the person I was meant to meet to arrive, and it was past noon we indulged in some chaat too. I came home in time to catch an afternoon nap and some work, before I headed off veggie shopping to prep for lunch with A tomorrow.

I came home and suddenly felt a cooking frenzy descend. I stuck some tomatoes laced with garlic, basil, salt and pepper in the oven to roast. I set a big pot of vegetable stock on. And I set off cooking tomorrow lunch with guidance and help from Amma who came over for dinner. We made one of my favourite gravies, but with cow-peas (teehee) since they’re in season and because I love them so much. And a cold dill and sour yogurt coconut curry. Then I also made a few Vietnamese cold rolls with fresh carrots, cucumber, spring onions, mint and pan fried peanut-chilli tofu for us to eat with the soup. By then the roasted tomatoes were set to cool, and blended with the vegetable stock to make soup.

I love a day like this that is full, productive and fun. A day that has equal parts work and play, and leaves me feeling content with such seemingly simple pleasures.

I’m grateful, and thankful, today. For the winter chill in the air. For breakfast with S. For her friendship and life-affirming conversations she brings. For serendipitous messages from the universe. For the cabs and autos in Bangalore. For VC, who gets me. For my CA who takes the load of paperwork off our backs. For flexible work hours that allow for the rare nap. For fresh vegetables and the sporadic willingness to cook. For amma and her company. For keeping me well-fed, one way or the other, wether in her kitchen or mine. For light, satisfying dinners. For experiencing living alone and to my own rhythms alone. For turning in at 9 pm.

Day 337: Anyway, I should be doing alright

Before I look back on last month, I want to remember last weekend.

My favourite kind of experiences are those that flow organically, forcing you to go in with no expectations, but emerge with so much more than just the experience. This past weekend was kind of like that, for me. Last week, when I found I had finished up all my assignments for November a week ahead of time, I decided to sign up for 3 days of participation in D and K’s practice module on a whim. Until then I was quite sure I didn’t really need to go, and so my inclination was low. But what I experienced, was far bigger and better than anything I could have anticipated. It was yet another instance of being guided into the right place at the right time, finding myself representing parts that resonated with my own position and patterns in life, prodding me on to look deeper at things I am unconsciously resisting seeing. More than one aha moment occurred and completely unexpected was the impact they have had on me. So deep that I have begun my Monday with a bang, acting on three things that have been mere ideas in my head, very very quickly this morning.

Besides the experience itself, I absorbed, with wonder and humility, yet again, how this work is the gift that just keeps giving. When Im not looking, when I’m not even anticipating it. There is healing and then there is this kind of healing that comes in gentle, timely doses that I feel so blessed to be a part of.

Then there were umpteen, endless conversations with D & K of course. I sometimes wonder when we will run out of things to talk about, and how it is that we always have so much to talk about.

There was also lots of little happy making events. An MTR thali, another opportunity for a whole day in a saree, pani puri, two evenings of enjoyable whiskey drinking after such a long spell of feeling completely not inclined to drinking, greasy Chinese take out, fresh fruit and mithai and eating together.

Early on Sunday morning, D and I went for a long walk again, increasing our pace and distance by a notch. Topping it off with idli-vada and hot coffee makes it worth leaving home that early on a Sunday morning. The rest of the day was spent completely relaxed, and in the evening we caught Bohemian Rhapsody, finally. What a complete treat it was. And once again, it touched me in a way I least expected it to. I thought I’d be entertained, yes. I didn’t think I’d be moved. Moved by the sheer mammoth powerhouse of talent that Freddie Mercury is, and the entire canon of his poetry and art. It’s a beautifully made film, that captures the energy just spot on. In fact, it’s left me feeling like I need to watch it again. Somewhere in between there was coffee in an elephant mug, and mutton mince samosas from Albert Bakery.

I had a good weekend that has filled my heart up. And something tells me there is more to come.

Two years ago: Day 337: November

Day 334: Play me in the winter

A breakfast of fried egg and a runny yolk. With toast to mop it up.

Forty five minutes reading in the morning sun.

An orange.

A morning spent in a healing circle that refueled my respect for women and how much we endure.

Winter mornings to remember.

Two years ago: Day 334: Everything looks better in retrospect