At peace!

Sometimes I’m afraid I’m happy, but because I expect it to be something else, I question the experience. So now, when in doubt, she shrugged with true bravado, I’ll assume I’m happy.  

― Carrie Fisher, Postcards from the Edge.

Something happened and all the happiness and positive spirits I was feeling are drained now. Sometimes my mind scares me with the dire things it thinks. I cannot give up. I don't give up easily. I mustn't now too. It helps to ponder over things that trouble us over a span of couple of hours. A few hours earlier I felt extremely dejected at my failure of attaining something I was confident I had in my kitty. Then, I started talking to myself about the futility of unnecessary freaking over the unoccurred and voila! I feel fit as a fiddle, not drained emotionally nor depressed at all. This only makes my resolve to seek the higher transformative powers of creating change within myself and embracing it too more stronger than ever. It's true that within our own selves do we find our realm to happiness. Nothing is lost until we truly let ourselves believe it is happening all in the mind. 

For the past few days, I was contemplating about my lack of finding the appropriate things to express here in the blogger sphere and then I realised that I write for myself. These days of lost conversations from my side are because I refused to listen to my voice that came screaming upon me. I kept it at bay, pushing it away for the fear of losing out on the happiness I felt in the moment. It was a silly thought that made its nest inside my mind that my words will give way to all the other unhappiness pooled inside the brain somewhere. Of course, I suffer a lot from these unexpressed silent gems of misery. I keep thinking I am getting better at controlling them as I age. I don't refer to growing up as ageing although these two could go together in the same context. A young, bubbly 24 year old friend of mine was ranting about her non-perusal of certain literary works for which as I always say, Age is the answer. The books we read when we are younger are definitely different than the ones we read when we grow a bit with our greying cells. To my response, she laughed and said, "That's your standard answer", which got me thinking about this stance I've adopted for certain topics. I am certainly not the only one who feels strongly about something especially after multiple experiences at different stages of life. But it dawned strongly upon me the severity of my friend's observation. Do I really believe age if the answer to a lot of life's seemingly complex problems in the timeline? Perhaps, I do. Is that bad? I don't know since I still weigh my cherubic spirits upon my understanding of harmony as a changing constant in my own life. The physicality of hard work, of draining myself in sweat and losing my breath for the sheer determination of slaying some imaginary demons does crumble me down. They also affirm my strong belief in my capabilities as a person. I won't go down in obscurity and certainly not in shattered spirits. 

Writing is my vocation solely because it connects with my soul. My inner voices that keep shouting in glee and wailing in misery at all times welcome this abode of peace writing creates within me. It is infintely always better to improve our insides than coating the exterior with sugar plum sweetness. That attracts a lot of attention and veers too soon. Let me be happy for every minute, let me be sad for the next, let me stay in bliss and also experience the tornadoes of unstability. It makes sense to experience the many miseries of this life and work our way through it than gloating with happiness all the while. What is life if not a rollercoaster ride? I can hardly believe this renewed style of my thinking and writing process but I am open to everything. All that makes me aware of this life and being.