I want to tell you how I began the year 2009, because someday you may begin a year like that too. Alone, aloof, afraid...almost broken. Hoping for one thing, one dream.
And, I want to tell you, how I feel today, because perhaps, it will fill you with hope? It fills me, too. And, despite the fact that I lost the one dream I started out with...
Here I am..smiling, content, excited, pensive on the very last day of the year. There are just a few more hours to go...
And, I am thankful for the new friends I made this year. The old friends I found. The new-old friends I made. Such a year of people, 2009. And, such a year of writing too. There was Love Letters, and Monday Musings, and 30X30 and Pause. And, after reading other Pauses, I wonder if it was a time in our life to learn, and let go, and find ourselves...
Difficult, but beautiful. And, satisfying, for me at least. I always pen my last thoughts before a new year. And, then on, I am always in a fleeting hurry to embrace the many little strings left to tie-up before the year ends...
But, today I have time..time for that one last run...the wind against my skin...just before the celebrations begin..the celebrations of a year well lived, well learned, well found...
...and the countless blessings I am grateful for. Everything isn't always the way we want it to be...but we have a choice, to be happy. And, to run...and still savour the wind.
Thank you for staying with me through the year. For those of you who did, thank you for pausing. I hope you have a safe evening. And, an absolutely miraculous twenty-ten. With love!
[ Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by writers (enlisted alongside) come together to capture people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday Musings - 29
And, here I am at the very last Monday of 2009. The last, little bits of the year are still to come...and there isn't even enough time to tie the loose ends, or so it seems. I wake up each morning, with a song in my heart. Some days it's a happy, yappy dance song..some days it's slightly sombre, and sometimes even a little bit sad. Because, this year has taken so much from me. But, it has also given me so much more. And, this week, it's been such a lovely week!
One of those weeks where you make friends with strangers, dance to 'Can't help falling in Love with You' just the way you'd like to, listen to Christmas carols, buy smiles, and pretty little dresses you otherwise wouldn't afford, and eat chocolate mousse with bread crumbs at 2 AM while watching everyone in glee. When you never sleep before 4 AM, because you're welcoming a friend into town, and then another one, every other day. Where dressing up is fun, because friends come over...where phone calls are quick two-minutes just to say, "Hey, I'm thinking of you," where food is divine. Soft roomali rotis, served with a spicy chicken bhuna on plastic tables. And, for some on car bonnets.
Where, the wind has gathered a swirl, and tugs at lonely hearts. Where the wind carries no answers, only a song, and joyous hearts. Where we think back at the year and how it began, and try and remember snatches of 2009. January, that started off slowly, and February that I cannot remember, and March that I need snatches of my writing to recollect. I can remember working late into many nights though. That was much of the beginning of 2009. April, beautiful for the sun, the sea, the frolic...May for the end of salsa lessons, and June for Goodbyes. Goodbyes aren't necessarily nice, unless their celebratory, and unless you know that this is just temporary. And, this too shall pass.
I can remember July, for Goodbyes again, and August, for Goodbyes too. This time around, it was farewell to a company I had breathed, lived, loathed and loved for two years. September, I said Goodbye again. To the city of Mumbai, and then, I wasn't sure when I was going to be back again. But, I was back within six weeks, and then October I said Goodbye again, to a city I had fallen so much in love with.
November, I said Goodbye to two friends. None easily done, but what must be, will be. And, here I am in December, ready to say Goodbye again. To a year of Goodbyes, and hellos...because I must tell you that in 2009, I found so many friends. Even friends left behind, their friendship never forgotten.
It has been such a year, hasn't it. Changes, and trials, and goodbyes, and new love, and mostly a feeling of I won't back down. It has been so beautiful too, full of new experiences. I learned salsa, and went camping, and traveled, and lived alone, and stayed in a hotel room where I was so terrified of being alone, and watched three sunrises in a row, and danced all night, and lost love, and wrote, and had a slight happy brush with the publishing business, and read poetry to an audience, and made so many new friends. And, I even kept with my tradition of making movie lists, and book lists, and watched theatre too. The joy. But, most all, somewhere in the middle of 2009, I began to write every Monday. And, that to me, is the most beautiful thing of 2009. Because, there's something about delving into yourself each Monday.
And, then on, something about reading your comments, and your thoughts and most of all your kind words...
[The year in Monday Musings here ]
One of those weeks where you make friends with strangers, dance to 'Can't help falling in Love with You' just the way you'd like to, listen to Christmas carols, buy smiles, and pretty little dresses you otherwise wouldn't afford, and eat chocolate mousse with bread crumbs at 2 AM while watching everyone in glee. When you never sleep before 4 AM, because you're welcoming a friend into town, and then another one, every other day. Where dressing up is fun, because friends come over...where phone calls are quick two-minutes just to say, "Hey, I'm thinking of you," where food is divine. Soft roomali rotis, served with a spicy chicken bhuna on plastic tables. And, for some on car bonnets.
Where, the wind has gathered a swirl, and tugs at lonely hearts. Where the wind carries no answers, only a song, and joyous hearts. Where we think back at the year and how it began, and try and remember snatches of 2009. January, that started off slowly, and February that I cannot remember, and March that I need snatches of my writing to recollect. I can remember working late into many nights though. That was much of the beginning of 2009. April, beautiful for the sun, the sea, the frolic...May for the end of salsa lessons, and June for Goodbyes. Goodbyes aren't necessarily nice, unless their celebratory, and unless you know that this is just temporary. And, this too shall pass.
I can remember July, for Goodbyes again, and August, for Goodbyes too. This time around, it was farewell to a company I had breathed, lived, loathed and loved for two years. September, I said Goodbye again. To the city of Mumbai, and then, I wasn't sure when I was going to be back again. But, I was back within six weeks, and then October I said Goodbye again, to a city I had fallen so much in love with.
November, I said Goodbye to two friends. None easily done, but what must be, will be. And, here I am in December, ready to say Goodbye again. To a year of Goodbyes, and hellos...because I must tell you that in 2009, I found so many friends. Even friends left behind, their friendship never forgotten.
It has been such a year, hasn't it. Changes, and trials, and goodbyes, and new love, and mostly a feeling of I won't back down. It has been so beautiful too, full of new experiences. I learned salsa, and went camping, and traveled, and lived alone, and stayed in a hotel room where I was so terrified of being alone, and watched three sunrises in a row, and danced all night, and lost love, and wrote, and had a slight happy brush with the publishing business, and read poetry to an audience, and made so many new friends. And, I even kept with my tradition of making movie lists, and book lists, and watched theatre too. The joy. But, most all, somewhere in the middle of 2009, I began to write every Monday. And, that to me, is the most beautiful thing of 2009. Because, there's something about delving into yourself each Monday.
And, then on, something about reading your comments, and your thoughts and most of all your kind words...
[The year in Monday Musings here ]
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Pause: Of time, and its turns
Roundabout every Christmas, I begin to reminisce childhood Christmas parties (fetes with Santa Claus, and yellow Moonwalkers jumping up into the sky), teenage party eves (fancy dresses and secret Santa gifts wrapped ever-so-delicately) and more recently Christmas from two years ago. It was my favourite Christmas time. And, I reckon it will always be. I will perhaps, hold onto it like a slice of time, always beautiful.
Time, of course reminds me of my teenage years. Like any other girl, I had the usual tussle with Dad over the telephone. The instrument seemed so precious then, sneaked into bedrooms for endless conversations. And, when it was invented, we had conference calls too. Cackle, cackle, and cackle like only young girls could. We would sometimes solve our homework on the phone. And, when we tired, play our own little version of Truth or Dare. This was when my parents were out to dinner, and I had the telephone all to myself. Without worry!
Until, it was the end of the month- the horrid little bill time of the month- when I always looked for a good place to hide. Daddy, seldom yelled, but always looked at me. And then on began another month of telephone chasing, and hiding, and trying ever so hard not to make that call.
Especially, not off our cheap, pre-paid telephones- like shoestring budgets for a time of life suited only to telephonic frivolity. Three hundred and forty-nine rupees, to talk and text, each month… with a little extra forty-five-rupee recharge scrounged from the week’s leftovers some months.
And, then came the time of internships, and when I started to work. And, I generously supported my monthly recharge with a little bit more, but the darned telephone deal was always a squeeze. Until at last, I received that second raise- and like a perfect, long-awaited gift, I treated myself to a billing cell phone account. Whatever the bill, I could take you on! IT was exhilarating.
I’m savouring that feeling as my father walks into the room last Sunday. “What are you doing,” he asks. “Writing a cheque,” I say. He looks over, enquiring, “How much is your cell phone bill?” I quote an approximate amount. His face scrunches up in disapproval. But, in my head, I smile.
2009, I think. The year, I could finally let go. And, afford my own telephone bill. One of the little things that makes growing up enjoyable. Even if sometimes, you’d much rather sneak the chord, than write the cheque…
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by writers (enlisted alongside) come together to capture people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Time, of course reminds me of my teenage years. Like any other girl, I had the usual tussle with Dad over the telephone. The instrument seemed so precious then, sneaked into bedrooms for endless conversations. And, when it was invented, we had conference calls too. Cackle, cackle, and cackle like only young girls could. We would sometimes solve our homework on the phone. And, when we tired, play our own little version of Truth or Dare. This was when my parents were out to dinner, and I had the telephone all to myself. Without worry!
Until, it was the end of the month- the horrid little bill time of the month- when I always looked for a good place to hide. Daddy, seldom yelled, but always looked at me. And then on began another month of telephone chasing, and hiding, and trying ever so hard not to make that call.
Especially, not off our cheap, pre-paid telephones- like shoestring budgets for a time of life suited only to telephonic frivolity. Three hundred and forty-nine rupees, to talk and text, each month… with a little extra forty-five-rupee recharge scrounged from the week’s leftovers some months.
And, then came the time of internships, and when I started to work. And, I generously supported my monthly recharge with a little bit more, but the darned telephone deal was always a squeeze. Until at last, I received that second raise- and like a perfect, long-awaited gift, I treated myself to a billing cell phone account. Whatever the bill, I could take you on! IT was exhilarating.
I’m savouring that feeling as my father walks into the room last Sunday. “What are you doing,” he asks. “Writing a cheque,” I say. He looks over, enquiring, “How much is your cell phone bill?” I quote an approximate amount. His face scrunches up in disapproval. But, in my head, I smile.
2009, I think. The year, I could finally let go. And, afford my own telephone bill. One of the little things that makes growing up enjoyable. Even if sometimes, you’d much rather sneak the chord, than write the cheque…
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by writers (enlisted alongside) come together to capture people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Monday, December 21, 2009
Monday Musings - 28
It's such a beautiful Monday afternoon - it's snowing where you are, and where I am the sun throws more than an occasional glance. It's also the second last Monday of the year. Wow, just taking that in, leaves me breathless. The new year is now, one Monday away. What is the new year going to hold? At this point, I can barely tell. And, I can't even imagine what picture to paint. That just leaves a white, empty canvas of a year waiting to paint itself with time. I have never before begun a year like that. Have you?
I've been spending a lot of December reading, writing and being a culture-vulture. December always does that to me. It makes me very, very upbeat about people, and places and life. Look, there I am sifting through paperbacks arranged neatly in wooden shelves at the little Prithvi bookshop. And, then letting my hair down to loud, hip-shakin' music. Then, tuning into the radio, listening to carols till it's much too late (Tune in to 107.1 FM, will you). And, even putting up with people with different summers. Oh, December makes everything beautiful. Even the niggling worries spilling over from all the other horrid months of the year.
It is almost as if I want to remember the best snatches of the year. That night dancing in Goa, that evening languishing by the rocks at Carter Road. That last dinner together. That morning at the airport, waiting for the flight to Delhi. That evening I made a friend at the airport. That night I got all my family, and friends to play Taboo. It was such a riot. That lovely evening, when my parents celebrated 25 years. The day spent talking outside office. We were a fun team. That evening staring at the sea for ever so long, it could have swallowed me up. And, some of the times I swallowed what I really wanted to say.
And, now I don't know what to say. For it's the first Monday, I'm not looking back, I'm looking ahead. I'm looking at this evening in Bandra, and tomorrow evening in Colaba and the day after in a coffee shop. I'm thinking of Christmas eve, and Christmas. It won't be white, but it certainly won't be blue. I want to go carol-ing into the night. I'm thinking of lovely evenings by the sea. There are going to be many, yes. And, I'm thinking of all things girl-y. Books hurriedly read, and movies quickly watched...to cram a little bit more joy into this marvelous year. Oh, there are more friends to welcome back into this city.
I'm thinking suddenly of Decembers gone by. There's something about December, ainnit. Something about the song in the air, the joy in the step. Irrespective of the sadness your nursing, the love your yearning. And, irrespective of that sad song in the poor boy's eyes. In December, he too is dancing... Have you noticed?
[More Monday Musings here ]
I've been spending a lot of December reading, writing and being a culture-vulture. December always does that to me. It makes me very, very upbeat about people, and places and life. Look, there I am sifting through paperbacks arranged neatly in wooden shelves at the little Prithvi bookshop. And, then letting my hair down to loud, hip-shakin' music. Then, tuning into the radio, listening to carols till it's much too late (Tune in to 107.1 FM, will you). And, even putting up with people with different summers. Oh, December makes everything beautiful. Even the niggling worries spilling over from all the other horrid months of the year.
It is almost as if I want to remember the best snatches of the year. That night dancing in Goa, that evening languishing by the rocks at Carter Road. That last dinner together. That morning at the airport, waiting for the flight to Delhi. That evening I made a friend at the airport. That night I got all my family, and friends to play Taboo. It was such a riot. That lovely evening, when my parents celebrated 25 years. The day spent talking outside office. We were a fun team. That evening staring at the sea for ever so long, it could have swallowed me up. And, some of the times I swallowed what I really wanted to say.
And, now I don't know what to say. For it's the first Monday, I'm not looking back, I'm looking ahead. I'm looking at this evening in Bandra, and tomorrow evening in Colaba and the day after in a coffee shop. I'm thinking of Christmas eve, and Christmas. It won't be white, but it certainly won't be blue. I want to go carol-ing into the night. I'm thinking of lovely evenings by the sea. There are going to be many, yes. And, I'm thinking of all things girl-y. Books hurriedly read, and movies quickly watched...to cram a little bit more joy into this marvelous year. Oh, there are more friends to welcome back into this city.
I'm thinking suddenly of Decembers gone by. There's something about December, ainnit. Something about the song in the air, the joy in the step. Irrespective of the sadness your nursing, the love your yearning. And, irrespective of that sad song in the poor boy's eyes. In December, he too is dancing... Have you noticed?
[More Monday Musings here ]
Friday, December 18, 2009
Pause: Of Love
The other night I was watching a wonderful, simple and hilariously silly play, Perch's 'Moonshine and SkyToffee.' Somewhere along the way, the cynical bride-to-be's father hung on to love, and the fool it makes of us all. Love is a silly thing, he said. And, I smiled. Me, writer of all-too-intimate love-letters, me lover of love itself, me wobbly-kneed-dreamy-eyed romantic, smiled. Endearing, I thought. And, true too. Love is a silly thing. Indeed.
Ephemerally, my mind slipped over to the fool love makes of us all. And, I began then to think of a long time ago when we drew hearts on crush cards, and dawdled names on ruled paper. Then, my greatest fear was handing over the card, without being find out. Crumpling the ruled paper, before my friends got to it. Then, love was so simple.
Now, I began to think of beginnings, and of endings. In love, and in life too, I wonder if we are more concerned with beginnings, and with endings. Than with the all important middle. For the middle is where the turmoil is, the joy is, the learning is. The beginnings, and ends are definite. And, met with acceptance.
Of course, I couldn't entirely lose my heart to love. For indeed, the year seems much too long, without love. And, so much shorter, and out of breath, and beautiful with love.
To me now, love is a series of anonymous love letters, not one of which fully fathom the truth of love. It is a verse, I share with everyone I know. The verse goes: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." To me, love is a series of misunderstandings, and complications I hear over phone calls, and all-night-long conversations. It is a smile, I see, on a blessed few.
But, most of all, it is an unending well in all of us. That allows us to smile through our tears, to smile despite our fears. To lend a helping hand. And, to share a shoulder too. It would seem as if 2009 has deepened that well. For me.
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by writers come together to capture people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Ephemerally, my mind slipped over to the fool love makes of us all. And, I began then to think of a long time ago when we drew hearts on crush cards, and dawdled names on ruled paper. Then, my greatest fear was handing over the card, without being find out. Crumpling the ruled paper, before my friends got to it. Then, love was so simple.
Now, I began to think of beginnings, and of endings. In love, and in life too, I wonder if we are more concerned with beginnings, and with endings. Than with the all important middle. For the middle is where the turmoil is, the joy is, the learning is. The beginnings, and ends are definite. And, met with acceptance.
Of course, I couldn't entirely lose my heart to love. For indeed, the year seems much too long, without love. And, so much shorter, and out of breath, and beautiful with love.
To me now, love is a series of anonymous love letters, not one of which fully fathom the truth of love. It is a verse, I share with everyone I know. The verse goes: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." To me, love is a series of misunderstandings, and complications I hear over phone calls, and all-night-long conversations. It is a smile, I see, on a blessed few.
But, most of all, it is an unending well in all of us. That allows us to smile through our tears, to smile despite our fears. To lend a helping hand. And, to share a shoulder too. It would seem as if 2009 has deepened that well. For me.
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by writers come together to capture people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Pause: Of Chai, of conversations
Perhaps, you can never quite understand the joy of chai, until you wolf it down with buttered toast at a railway station in Goa. You can never quite savour it, unless you pour it out of a tea-pot, with a strainer, into tea cups at the Pune Club. And, you can never quite enjoy it fully unless you allow the tea to balm your hearts, soothe your nerves, and spill your secrets. For, what is tea, without conversation. Shared atop rickety, wooden stools in an old Mahim lane, shared within crusty white walls in Sant Nagar, New Delhi. In the second case, the tea was green, glistening, with leaves. The conversation was soulful.
And, what is tea, if not had at Prithvi Cafe where young minds meet in common desire. Oh, 2009, I think, how many conversations over chai you have held in Prithvi Cafe! Over cups of Suleimani Chai, we discovered new friendships, re found old ones. In those moments, we looked for hope. In those hours, we retraced time, and memories, and once even promised to rediscover our city, Mumbai. Year end, I can safely say, I found a Mumbai, I never knew existed.
Yesterday, as I had yet another cup of chai at the Cafe, I allowed my fingers to trace memories, to put little dots on happy days, and big crosses on moments I needn't remember, feelings I mustn't harbour. I must admit, it took me a while. A while to retrace the year, to find the moments that made it up. To leave the present moment, and revel momentarily in the past. I wonder if that is a good thing. Or, not such a good thing.
I can remember sipping chai atop a lovely terrace in Delhi. The chai was hot, black and gingery. It's slight sweetness lingered like the conversation that followed- we cast our fears onto the night sky, and set them out, to welcome a beautiful morning.
I can remember soaking endless cups of tea, with tears. We ran out of tea, but not conversation. The hungry hearts still bared. The tears spilled long after. I can remember sinking feet into pillows, over cups of lemon flavoured tea. And, merry chatter over honey-bit, and apple tea.
I used to be a coffee person...but it seems, in 2009, I have acquired a taste for tea. Or, perhaps, I have just grown to endear the flavour it leaves in the air, the lessons, lives, emotions it leaves in the open. And, the friends it helps me find...again, and again, and again.
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by Gayatri Makhijani, Udita Upadhyaya and other writers (I'll update this soon) that captures people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
And, what is tea, if not had at Prithvi Cafe where young minds meet in common desire. Oh, 2009, I think, how many conversations over chai you have held in Prithvi Cafe! Over cups of Suleimani Chai, we discovered new friendships, re found old ones. In those moments, we looked for hope. In those hours, we retraced time, and memories, and once even promised to rediscover our city, Mumbai. Year end, I can safely say, I found a Mumbai, I never knew existed.
Yesterday, as I had yet another cup of chai at the Cafe, I allowed my fingers to trace memories, to put little dots on happy days, and big crosses on moments I needn't remember, feelings I mustn't harbour. I must admit, it took me a while. A while to retrace the year, to find the moments that made it up. To leave the present moment, and revel momentarily in the past. I wonder if that is a good thing. Or, not such a good thing.
I can remember sipping chai atop a lovely terrace in Delhi. The chai was hot, black and gingery. It's slight sweetness lingered like the conversation that followed- we cast our fears onto the night sky, and set them out, to welcome a beautiful morning.
I can remember soaking endless cups of tea, with tears. We ran out of tea, but not conversation. The hungry hearts still bared. The tears spilled long after. I can remember sinking feet into pillows, over cups of lemon flavoured tea. And, merry chatter over honey-bit, and apple tea.
I used to be a coffee person...but it seems, in 2009, I have acquired a taste for tea. Or, perhaps, I have just grown to endear the flavour it leaves in the air, the lessons, lives, emotions it leaves in the open. And, the friends it helps me find...again, and again, and again.
[Pause is an ongoing series of reflections by Gayatri Makhijani, Udita Upadhyaya and other writers (I'll update this soon) that captures people, places and moments from the year 2009. Pause ends on 31st December, 2009]
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Monday Musings - 27
This Monday, I am thankful that I am a writer. I am thankful that as writers, we are allowed to weave traces of ourselves, our hurts, and our joys into words. Little bits left around for the world, and ourselves. To read, and then re-read again in later times. For we are all the same. You and me, we feel the same pain, attempt to erase the same hurts, and are delirious with the same joy. I would like to believe that my pain is lesser, or perhaps, on a good day, my happiness is more. But, truth is we are all the same...our loves, our wants, our suffering.
But then again, I think, that writers, we need courage. And, sometimes I wonder if I will ever find it. Will I ever find the courage to tell you my deepest secrets? To put in words my tiniest fears? And, carve on paper my gravest hurts, just as they happen. I do not know. Or, perhaps I already do.
And, so maybe I want to write today, about the young girl who lost her mother. Her eyes are forlorn. About the look in a fathers' eyes, when he is angry. About the music man I was enchanted by when I was nineteen. About the time, I left a gang of pig-tailed school girls, for a world of farcical delights. It broke my heart. About the time I resented a dear friend, for who he really is. But, we seldom choose our friends, do we? And, we seldom bare our hearts.
Even as I writer, I attempt to cloak my sincerest feelings into distant words, sometimes. Just sometimes, when I am wary of what the world will know, and what the world will think. People are kind, but not too often. People are nice, but they never can share your pain. This Monday, I am thankful for those who share the moment, however.
For as the year rolls on, and time plays out...I keep learning life is never easy. And, yet we have a chance to find our joy. Like the joy I can remember from seeing my very first piece in print, at seventeen. I recollect, I ended the article with C'est la Vie. To me then, it seemed a fitting way to embark on what would hopefully be a long, fulfilling journey. It seemed so wise then.
Today, many years later...it still feels wise. It still seems as if what goes around, comes around. And, what will be, will be. Perhaps, it's a little easier to take life in, with that line, I think. C'est la vie...I wish I could put into words how it sounds.
[More Monday Musings here ]
But then again, I think, that writers, we need courage. And, sometimes I wonder if I will ever find it. Will I ever find the courage to tell you my deepest secrets? To put in words my tiniest fears? And, carve on paper my gravest hurts, just as they happen. I do not know. Or, perhaps I already do.
And, so maybe I want to write today, about the young girl who lost her mother. Her eyes are forlorn. About the look in a fathers' eyes, when he is angry. About the music man I was enchanted by when I was nineteen. About the time, I left a gang of pig-tailed school girls, for a world of farcical delights. It broke my heart. About the time I resented a dear friend, for who he really is. But, we seldom choose our friends, do we? And, we seldom bare our hearts.
Even as I writer, I attempt to cloak my sincerest feelings into distant words, sometimes. Just sometimes, when I am wary of what the world will know, and what the world will think. People are kind, but not too often. People are nice, but they never can share your pain. This Monday, I am thankful for those who share the moment, however.
For as the year rolls on, and time plays out...I keep learning life is never easy. And, yet we have a chance to find our joy. Like the joy I can remember from seeing my very first piece in print, at seventeen. I recollect, I ended the article with C'est la Vie. To me then, it seemed a fitting way to embark on what would hopefully be a long, fulfilling journey. It seemed so wise then.
Today, many years later...it still feels wise. It still seems as if what goes around, comes around. And, what will be, will be. Perhaps, it's a little easier to take life in, with that line, I think. C'est la vie...I wish I could put into words how it sounds.
[More Monday Musings here ]
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