Friend, I Miss You...

November 27, 2019

Today is no special day.

I haven’t woken up feeling any different or particularly inspired. It is just another day. Another day of being cognizant of everything that has changed over the last 18 months; inherently grateful for the things I’ve gained and acquiescent of those that I’ve lost…

Snuggling lazily on my couch, clad in cozy festive pajamas, I savor the warmth of my customary cup of morning coffee. My thoughts meander. The warm, cinnamon-infused waking aroma is the perfect aide to the backdrop outside my window. Winter is exerting brute force, demanding an early entry, while Fall is unrelenting, petulant at her short sojourn, and pushing back to linger on for just a bit longer. Perhaps this scuffle between the seasons is giving way to an unusually windy day.

I feel as though the wind stirring up the fallen leaves, mirrors something within me. I cannot quite place my finger on it. But I sense the once-familiar makings of a metaphor. I tune in to myself…  to string together some words in an attempt to bestow life to this wisp of a sentiment. I close my eyes. Focus…

Alas, nothing! My inner dictionary has turned to a blank page yet again. The elusive, feeble creative spark has extinguished itself before I could reach for the matches. I let out an exasperated sigh.

It’s Thanksgiving, which means that I have a week-long break when I’m doing… well, nothing. I’ve not had the luxury of doing nothing since I accepted the challenge of a full-time two-year MBA program many, many miles away from home, in the United States of America.

So much has changed – and I’m certainly not unhappy. This was a well-thought out decision; a conscious choice to push my personal boundaries and leave my cushy pampered existence to experience life. For the first time, I have experienced a full cycle of the four seasons that I had only learnt about in Geography textbooks. Fall is my new favorite! As I acquire ‘mastery’ in ‘business administration’, I visit new places, meet new people, and even trudge through the mundanities of adult life. Most importantly, I am exploring – both internally and externally. I am embracing the unknown, weaving it into in the context of what I knew and assimilating my learnings into what I now fondly think of as ‘growth’.

The vicissitude of the seasons embodies all the changes over the past year and a half – some I chose; others chose me. I’m not about to go off on a philosophical tangent or declare a moment of epiphany. I almost think I should?! In fact, I have been feeling empty over the past few months, like an integral part of me has gone missing. And, I know what it is.

That creative mirage I was desperately trying to reach out to moments ago, was nothing but another failed attempt at trying to placate my sulking literary facilities. I have not written since I landed in the US! Sure, I have written innumerable assignments, but I haven’t really written…for myself. The pain of this growing void manifests as silence on my blog.

The new experiences have been hard to keep up with and document amid a busy schedule. Every time something elicited emotion, wove metaphors, conjured creative descriptions – I would think of penning it down. But the minute I opened my laptop, I found an email or unfinished task staring me squarely in the face, as if challenging me to shift my attention to appeasing and appraising my dormant craft. Whether it is the rat race of adulthood that has consumed me, or simply pressing priorities with deadlines attached, I have given up on the intangible and devoted my energy to the tangible instead.

Before you, my dear reader, leap to judgement or rescue, I’ve never meant to shun my whimsical contemplations entirely; I’ve simply postponed attending to them for a more opportune moment. Little did I know that creativity is easily affronted. If you turn it away too often and wait too long to cradle your thoughts, they slip through and you lose the essence of what stirred you in the first place…

My Creative’s ego is bruised. And, that has led me to feel empty; like something in me has died. I miss the company of the imaginative chatter of thoughts in my mind. But I’m not ready to accept this loss. I would move heaven and earth to get them back. They were, and still are, my best friend.

And so, I’ve changed the metaphor. They aren’t dead. No, they aren’t even lost. They are simply hibernating – escaping my wintery attitude towards them. I just need to tempt them with the warm allure of Spring! And so, this is not an inspired outburst. It is far from that. This is my version of a struggle. A struggle to reconnect with an old, indignant friend, who has been hurt by my actions. An attempt to entice my creative self to wake up. To come back. So that together we can make sense of the world the way we used to.

The tussle of the elements continues; I have my own battles. I get off the couch, rinse my empty mug, and fire up my laptop…

“Today is no special day…”