The Soaring Eagle

So this week has been filled with slothiness- immense slothiness. I cannot provide an explanation (should I rather say excuse) for such slothy behaviour other than it might be due to a lack of motivation or a combination of mixed emotions.

In fact, this post was supposed to have been written and completed yesterday (I decided to have a pity party instead). And now I feel like a box of Smarties being rattled around so much that I do not even now which colour Smartie I am any more. (Thinking of the blue Smartie, I now have the Smurf’s theme stuck in my head… Ooooo! I now want chocolate!)

Take Saturday afternoon for example. Once again I was slothing instead of being productive. I would like to blame this act on my body’s battle with the common cold but honestly, I didn’t feel like doing anything- colouring, series, reading, anything (other than eating chocolate)!

The air was filled with a heaviness. It is quite difficult to explain. Thick and heavy. The other side of my window seemed bright, fresh and I could even hear a chicken cooing in the distance; yet the air was filled with this heaviness. Odd.

Could this have been the cloth of a dream state induced into reality from my laziness and refusal to leave my bed? It was unexplainable, mysterious and somewhat frightening.

As I returned to my lazy stupor, my mother barged into my room. Well, not exactly barge, but I cannot seem to find a more fitting word. (And yes, I still live at home. Life of one in need of a better paying job). My mother’s act of opening my room door is never gentle. It is a handy turn and a mighty thrust- much like the Orcs attempt of breaking the doors to Helms Deep *exaggeration*. Her entrance often gives me a bit of a scare and always leaves behind a sense of disturbance of the peace.

As her judging eyes scan my nuclear war zone of a room, she asked if I am going to go out with them. My reply is a simple “No”. Mother was clearly not impressed and went on about me being boring and emphasized the fact that I would be doing nothing: “What?! You just going to do nothing!” Yes, and thus I entered a week of the mediation of Nothingness.

To be honest, I had so much in mind for my next writing escapade. I wanted to write on the upcoming Hindu festival of Diwali- the sparkliness of it all. But then I stumbled on a Facebook post that a friend of mine (actually a friend of my brother’s but for courtesy sake we will say my friend) had shared another blogger’s (look at me, implying that I am a blogger too) post on dissecting the beauty of the dark skinned Indian woman. This made me think that my blog needs some direction, some substance. I cannot be all wafty and wavy… But as I put my pen to paper again the randomness of my mind flows like the Universe into a paper cup (what up Beatles reference!…. okay and IISuperwomanII).

Yesterday, the annoying Facebook memories actually alleviated some anxiety that I was feeling by reminding me of a spark of happiness and inspiration. Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my watching of the film “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” This film is highly sentimental to me but that is a story for another time.

I remember watching the film late (well late in my personal time zone) at night, curled on the couch in my blanket igloo. Half asleep, half dreaming. And then the push of the visual awakening and stirring my soul within!

“To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life.”

Now, I am not going to make this a Quick Notes on the film or a case study. I am simply going to say that the above quote has stuck with me ever since. Who am I kidding? You know me by now- Elaboration here we come!!!

Today, in fact, I found it very difficult to start my day- to get work done. The blunt reason I used was “Work is crap.” So in my search for motivation (more like my procrastination of chatting), this quote came to me speaking words of wisdom, let it be! (God bless the Beatles!).

It is in this quote that I can resolve that purpose for everyone is specific and my purpose is a light years difference of what I am currently doing. However, I am slowly stepping into my purpose and embracing it with the wingspan of an Eagle. You might think that the wingspan of an Eagle is relatively small but when the Eagle takes to the sky and soars- the whole sky is engulfed under its wings.

“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” was my reminder that “Dreams are meant to be lived”. So often we daydream about a better place, a better position, a better world, a better you; yet we do nothing in reality to make our daydreams our life. Live your daydreams, Sweet Ones! Drink beer out of a boot in Nuuk whilst being serenaded by Space Oddity. And “live by the ABC’s- Adventurous. Brave. Creative!”

I think I have rambled on enough. Sparkles!


The Grand Black

The Second Post! (Still not sure if this is the correct terminology). This is probably more daunting than the first. I am completely unsure what to write about- cannot simply ramble on again about starting a blog.

After my first post, the significant other (first time I am using this term, what is happening to me???) asked me, while munching on mommy-made momos, “What is your goal with this blog?” To be honest, I do not really know. I never really have reasonings or plans, which is not the recommended method to get things done, but like my messy room, there is order in my chaos and out of that chaos shall be born purpose *insert Gladiator theme*. I believe that (brace yourself for some hippiness) the universe shall direct me and my mass destructive thoughts and all shall be unravelled… in due course.

Now on to the point before I waffle on about posting once again.

So going back, to the inception of this blog *ad nauseam*, I sought validation in my writing for many reasons, one of the main reasons being it was the first time that my inner thoughts were to be so public. I had this excessive feeling that I needed to be told how brilliant my inner thoughts and activities were before going through with the trauma of publishing it. This validation extended to the point that I continuously questioned whether such external validation was even truthful.

Now, don’t get me wrong. This is not a narcissist’s hidden intention for ego boosting; it was a doubting, weak spirit and disbelief in me.

This takes me back; at what point did I stop trusting myself and need someone else’s approval or reassurance to convince me to myself?

Of recent, on my tarred travels, I keep meeting a black Jeep Grand Cherokee bearing the number plate LA VIE – ZN. I cannot see the occupants but for a solo hand on the steering wheel discoloured by tinted windows. However, I did notice a wooden crucifix hanging from the rear view mirror. I can only assume that “la vie” is a shortened version of the French expression “C’est la vie”. That’s life!

I would like to think of the driver of the Grand Black as a cheeky one and the number plate is a tongue and cheek reply to an observer that would say enviously. “What a beautiful car, if only…” That’s life! I am pulled, though, to a more ethereal rationale. I feel that my angels (yes, I believe in archangels) are sending me a message of assurance, “That’s life, sweet one- live it!”

Life. I would like to describe it as a washing machine. You begin as a clean garment, woven together in perfection- bright and beautiful. As time goes on, some grub of experience soils you and into a whirl of soap and water you go and are spun into a dizziness. After being hung out to dry, you are clean once again however, your colour might have faded, a thread might have broken off, you lack lustre. That’s life! In all that has happened, you cannot forget that you are still wearable and beautiful. You do not simply abandon your favourite garments. You keep them, so attached. Similarly, you do not render yourself useless but should remain in the belief of yourself.

Experiences change you. But in that change you should always know that within you is something greater than the perception of anything on this Earth. Majestic and Wondrous! And in that you should never doubt. In that, you should have complete trust. In that, you find your validation. That’s life!

You can transform the words of “That’s life” to “My life”. Taking ownership by attaching the possessiveness of the pronoun My. We often place so much of our energy and belief in other “my”- my house, my work, my friends, my partner. But these extensions become weak if the same amount of energy and belief is not pumped into My Self.

A colleague of mine told me that I was born to blog. That he can see me typing with an air of fervour, sipping on my tea between sentences. The image fits, although it was not this somewhat humorous image of me that made me take notice of what he had said. It was the striking use of the word “born”. It is paramount as why do I doubt or question the organics of what I am born into- my natural state, my homeostasis, my home.

I often make myself a stranger in my own home and that is how I have been living for a while -a stranger to my own world. A world that I created but abandoned. I see my world now in a post apocalyptic state. Abused structures, emptiness, greyscale, erased existence and silence but for a whimper of the memory of a stranger that once belonged.

With my new found self-validation, colour is splashed back, the air is laced with the aroma of baked goods, rainbows whirl as tornadoes and as I breathe a deep sigh into existence, I voice the words “Honey, I’m home”.

I think I have rambled on enough. Sparkles!

The Great Sloth

Okie, so I am not one to conform to normality or any trends and, I must say, that blogging has become the conformist’s choice of freedom of expression, but, o well, here I am.

I must admit that “expert” opinions were sought as to whether this self exposé expedition should be pursued or deemed a stroke of insanity. To my doubting mind’s discontent, this expedition was greeted with such enthusiasm I was practically handed a hiking stick and kicked out the door sans map. Much like what Gandalf did to Bilbo. A nudge into adventure… more like a nudge into the fiery danger of a dragon! Although, yes let me be soppy for a moment, all I can express is gratitude to my experts as they never hesitate to be my hiking stick support system (this analogy though *gag*) Moving on swiftly.

One can never really say why one begins something. Why start? Why actually use your time and energy to start something you never did before simply for the fun of it?

My favourite pastime is definitely slothing… Lying in bed, sprawled. Well, I can actually define it as a form of yoga. Back to floor, hands in line with head facing north, legs somewhat dangling in a comfortable position, light breathing, meditation leading to dreaming- the Sloth pose! A practice where you hibernate and become enveloped in your laziness until you realise your ultimate inner laziness. Lazy Liberation! So why would a seeker of slothy liberation even spark the thought of starting something that takes away lazy time?

Well, there is a certain beauty in beginnings, isn’t there? The current season is the best and most cliché example I could use. Spring- the start of a new cycle, birth, life, momentum (there we go, first blog and already I’m boring it up). However, I think there is a characteristic of rebellion in starting something. Protesting against the same. A plea for change. Not letting the old age you into stale existence. It is not simply expressing but evolving. The revolution of evolution (can’t believe I just said that).

Gosh, this has turned into a High School creative essay- introduction, body, paragraph, leading points, flow of ideas and now, what I ought to have avoided, the no-no of digression! Back on track…

So the start of this blog cannot be seen as conformity but rather, the non-conformist in me taking a stand against the grey of life. Wouldn’t you say? A rebellion against the Great Sloth, a window for words to fly out of, a journey of the weird and, of course, an Ode to Mind Clutter.

I wish that you could actually see the drafting of this first post (is it called a post in blog world?). Arrows for the slotting in of ideas popping up, stars for an extra nonsensical paragraph, the illegible handwriting of a whizzing mind, scratching outs of overthinking. Bascially, the code of Mind Clutter. How this is going to be fun!

So, with that said, I now (finally!) introduce you to the flurry, randomism and chaotic fun fair of my mind. I do, though, foresee that decluttering is not to be achieved nor, should I think, that be the mission of this blog. I would like it to be a celebration of Mind Clutter! (Owning it!).

I think I have rambled on quite enough now. Sparkles!