I used to avoid confrontations – a situation has to become the most precarious jenga formation before I started pondering if I should do anything about it. I would just steadfastly examine the shape of my toenails if the other person is around. I became a flight risk.
But of course, I became a part of the evolutionary cycle and I have started looking at people in the face to start difficult conversations. The elephant in the room becomes smaller and smaller before vanishing completely.
Which really makes me wonder, how many rooms are running out of space for elephants just because of the choice of remaining passive and just brushing the dirt under the carpet lest feathers are ruffled the other way. In families, in groups of friends, in colleagues…. There are always times when the tension is as thick as cheese. But we all bite our tongues, give smiles ranging from constipated to maniacal (depending on how well we can act) and continue talking about the weather. Isn’t it strange how gossip is always welcome as long as it doesn’t concern us? Why is it so uncomfortable talking about topics that touch a sensitive chord?
Why did I make the change? Probably because it helps me sleep better. Why fret over things and how they may unfold when you can take it in your hands? I admit, I have put people at a loss of words because they weren’t expecting me to bring it up? Especially the older generation who are so used to not being questioned! I admit, that makes it a little fun… I am one of those who doesn’t respect elders just because. (C’mon! You can’t get away with age all the time)
And other times… I like being a devil’s advocate. Dialogue is never bad… and with well-timed silences, have lead to masterpiece discussions that have opened my eyes about people and relationships more than anything!
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday – an interesting prompt of “book title”. The Elephant Vanishes written by Haruki Murakami is a book of short stories – Highly recommend reading “Sleep” which appeared in the New Yorker. Mind-blowing!
I am thinking of a delicate piece of glass – intrinsic and complex in its design; absolutely beautiful with the rainbow of colours glowing under the sliver of sunlight. I would be so scared to get close and touch it initially. I would want to admire it from a distance. Perhaps… I can reach a point where the glass is so inviting that I muster the courage to take a closer look and even begin holding it.
From trembling fears to a confident grasp, I become more comfortable in picking it up and carrying it with me. I might even try to guard it from prying fingers and jealous eyes before I calm down and let it be free, clean and safe in its own zone.
I don’t want to risk becoming too callous with it though. While I may have overcome my initial apprehension of handling it, I don’t want to get carried away and juggle it with other delicate items on the mantelpiece… Lest it crash and break into a thousand glittering pieces just because I was too careless and neglected to pay close attention. I want to preserve and respect its unique beauty and worth. That way, the glass lasts forever with me without losing its sheen and significance.
And then I look at what I have scribbled above and replace the “glass” with “relationships”… it kind of tells me the same thing about how I should handle them. If only I did well to remember this … the world will be a great place to live!
It’s amazing how distracted I have been lately. I feel like I am sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the deepest abyss in the cold ocean, everything shaded with the same murky green and unable to cut across to the ray of sunlight. I cannot really make out the difference between the reefs and the rocks.
I keep craving for a change and even once I have got it, the restlessness gets to me all over again. It feels like I have just been waiting and waiting for something to happen – almost, like I am waiting for my life to begin. Till then, I keep myself busy picking new ways to pass the time and in a snap, the novelty of it wears off. My focus is fuzzy and I am already thinking of Plan B and Plan M for the new Plan A.
On the face of it, someone looking from the outside will think I have a lot going on… But the sad truth is that I jump from one to another and back again in the hope that I will find something that will keep me engaged for long. I don’t want to be thinking of my next yoga session while I am trying to understand more about the Andromeda galaxy. When I am reading (and sniffing) the my John Steinbeck novel, I don’t want a visit by the prospects of an impending trip. I essentially seem to have the attention span of a goldfish.
My head doesn’t stop pounding and I feel like I am being unfaithful to the task on hand. I used to be someone who gives a 149% of my energy and focus on something and now I am barely skimming 20%. At first I thought I am getting bored and the monotony of day to day life is getting to me. But no. That’s not it. I am just not able to put my finger on the exact cause of this restlessness. It is a good restlessness though – whatever that means.
Thankfully I enjoy spending my time on all of it and none of them come with an expiry tag! I try to bring them together hoping that they form a complete picture but right now, all I have are broken pieces.
I keep searching for something that makes my heart skip a beat but perhaps, I am looking at the wrong place and maybe… I am looking for the wrong thing? I should try to discern what brings peace and tranquility to the incessantly fluttering heart.
So much flexibility to the definition of home over the years… What started of as the brick and mortar of the family and abode of childhood memories to something that can even fit in your head without any tangible existence.
Home is in the calmness of mind.
Home is where resides the deepest of sleep
Home lies in the confidence of running blind
Home is where dreams sway high and deep
Home happens where no shackles bind
Home brings the security of making the leap
I have been running away from the establishment of this home thinking that it is only going to limit my journey. I fear of being a river that simply lies put in a dam only to burst in sprints; I want to keep flowing – straight or curving, fast or slow – and make the slow yet mesmerizing progress in search of the vast ocean. This fear almost becomes a box with no windows or doors which keeps evaporating every ounce of energy.
Now home is where I am. And where I choose to just be.