Sometimes I get too full and spillover. Today is one of those days. Take a stroll with me- it gets much worse, before it gets only slightly better.
To make your read a little more palatable, I have included some art I haven't had the chance to share before. A collection of scattered pieces, where incomplete thoughts and patches of creativity come together, to form, what I call - the unexpected stories.
I remember being a difficult child. Clarification- not difficult for my mother, just for myself. I made my life excruciatingly hectic and stressful, with endless ropes of thinking and analysing at a concerning young age. All I ever wanted was to be seen and also to hide inside of myself and never be found again.
Then came the angsty teen- misunderstood & cursed to be unique. - no one could possibly be anything like me. And any time anyone hurt my delicate little heart, I would collect the hurts like secret love notes, crumple them up in my hand, and keep them close to my heart. This is me. Mine. My stories. My hurts. And there was always a lingering threat of showing too much of myself to anyone, lest it be taken away. I was convinced my sadness meant something- it had to be. Because if it didn't then what was it all about?
It's strange how many paths I have crossed, stubbornly holding onto myself. Always wondering why do I feel so full but also utterly empty.
As you get older, a lot of the fog of existing clears and you start seeing things not from the lens of expectations but from the lens of being and experiencing. The person I am is a collection of so much- a little bit like the unexpected stories-- it's a mishmash of people I have been, people I aspire to be, art I consume, art I create, constant epiphanies and learnings. So much learning. Always learning...
I work in community wellbeing. A part of my job is going to different places and engaging with people from diverse communities. Sometimes having difficult conversations with them, often having fun. There's this activity we conduct which involves everyone spending 15 seconds with each person in the room, sharing something they appreciate about them. 15 seconds of appreciation for a person you've known for not more than 2 or 3 days and you'll probably never meet again.
Interestingly enough, everyone who meets me, leaves saying- "I feel like I've met you before, it doesn't feel like the first time. It's like we've been friends for a long time".
Joseph Campbell said, "If you bring love to every moment — not discouragement — you will find the strength is there. Any disaster you survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege!"
I think my privilege is just these small moments of connecting and understanding.
It's understanding what I'm born out of- love, dreams, wisdom, exhaustion, expectations, worries, regret- And I stand the sum of it all, across someone who is the sum of the same. But only a different permutation.
It's understanding that the more I open up the crumpled pieces of paper that I'd been holding close to my heart, I can find the same stories that everybody else has. So yes, sometimes I do feel like I've met every single person in the world before and have been friends with them for a long time.
It's understanding the unique power of opening yourself up to new people and possibilities, and how it doesn't come easily. Sometimes it does blow up in your face horribly, but I think that is a chance one needs. to be willing to take. It's later than you think.
I'm not one to say things and let them be said as absolutes for my life or anybody else's. I don't think I have that kind of wisdom, not yet atleast. I find words to be too limiting and ridden with loopholes and there is always the lack of a better word. But because I have already been writing for so long, I would like to leave you with one learning that I take from 2024-
Existing as a human is already difficult. Existing as a human besides other humans is near impossible. It's terrifying, they should make it illegal, really! If there is any logic to it, it's this- There is immense pain in comparison, but pure joy in compassion. It doesn't take anything away from your unique being to open yourself up to people. But it could add to it, in the most beautiful and unexpected ways.
And that's that. Like I said, it'll only get slightly better. But I appreciate you for reading.
For more art, recommendations, interesting new finds and the occasional rambling (like once every 365 days), subscribe to my blog ONE LAST THING. Thank you and ta ta!
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