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Resonance and Relief

It’s a rainy day today. Non-stop pitter-patter, puddles, and dreams of pakoras. On this June day, Edinburgh could have been Bombay. I close my eyes and can see the teeming grey-green creek, announcing the arrival of monsoons. The last of gulmohar splashed across streets, too fragile to stick with the tree and the waft of bhuttas on street corners. The lush greenery of Aarey, and the little rivers that appear only in the rains. The laughter and conversation of a family in a warm living room. I know the scene all too well– pacing, pampering, perhaps some music…

Between conversation and chaos, she will take care of you, and that is comforting. Chandi will magic the pain away, and I’ll immediately feel better here.

On this rainy, with nothing I can do to help, I make do with memories, knowing the same grey skies link back home, where coffee and relief brews.

I’m sitting where JK Rowling once sat working on her novel. By a window, an open book (reference), a cup of coffee (skinny flat white), music in my ears and a moment of realising how fortunate I am to be here. The city is gorgeous, bright at 8 pm, cosmopolitan, cultural and inspiring. I’m warm, well-fed, and strangely content. Friends and family are in my thoughts but in a pleasant way, I’m encouraged by their absence.

I’m working, a little behind schedule, but that can’t be helped. One word at a time, a thought, a line, and a book will be made– not one with magic, but full of beautiful. So far away from home, I’m making a journey to its heart, temporal and spatial barriers broken.

14 Years

It’ll be fourteen years tomorrow. I remember the day like it was yesterday. There is a video somewhere, breathlessly recording the day,  but I don’t need it today. I remember the white tiles, the garden, the people, the anticipation, and the sliver of worry. The power outage that pushed your arrival, and the moment you were born. Pink and plump, love at first sight.

The love has only grown over the years, and in the last 14, you have become the centre of my universe, my pride and joy. My not-so- little Pumpkin, Happy Birthday.

I may not be at your party, but you bet there will be a celebration– with nachos! :o)

Giving Up

An exit plan is always a good idea. I don’t always have them. That’s what you get for being an eternal optimist.

How do you know when to give up? How do you know you’ve tried hard enough, and that’s all you can do? When should you call it a day, and go home?

How much effort is effort enough? When do you move from being focused and/or interested to obsessive?

At what point do you say, that’s it, I’m done?

With Kindness

Be kind. When you give someone bad news, be kind. When you are encouraging, be kind. When you break someone’s heart, be kind. When you give feedback, be kind.

After the hurt /anxiety /joy /anger /assorted emotions pass, your kindness will linger. It will help pick up the pieces and put things in perspective. It’ll be taken home, and it’ll be cherished. Kindness is speaking your mind,  firmly but with empathy. Kindness is respectful, it’s sensitive, and it is generous. Kindness is asking people to hang in there when going gets tough. It’s a signal to leave with dignity.

Always be kind. #notetoself

Ways to Tell a Story

There are different ways to tell a story. Any story, but they all depend on the audience. Your language, flair, eloquence count for nothing, if the listener doesn’t care.

You can’t tell, quite honestly, how everything works. Or why something clicks while another doesn’t. You can, however, gauge a response, and tailor the way you tell your story.

Reconnections

 

Friendships must be like muscle memory. Like cycling or swimming.

In a few hundred words, the years of silence are wiped out memories of displeasure, discomfort forgotten. Laughter is just as easy and conversation flows.

Slipping into old roles, picking up threads that were forgotten, but the same patterns emerge.

Memories of displeasure, discomfort are easily forgotten.  Silences and lost stories don’t count anymore.

It isn’t new, it isn’t fresh. It’s familiar.  It makes annoying old friends rather easy.