Just when the swelled tear was about to drop, the driver asked, "what location to Google, for the drop mam?"
I helped him map my drop location and settled with my back leaning towards the seat, allowing myself to immerse in and let my feelings surface and find it's way out...either as words or tears. Eventually both were eager and took turns🤷♀️. I can say it's customary too... ?😄
Sitting in the rear seat, closer to left window, feeling the cold wind brushing my face and moist along the tear trails on my cheeks, my eyes finding solace looking at vast greyish- blue sky, airplanes landing, the beautifully lit exits roads and billboards; completely resisting the mad rush of taxies and cars rushing back towards the city.
The quietness of the sky kindled my heart and at one moment, I wondered, what if I could Google my feelings and map them too. My heart would have been so much at ease; probably eyes too could have shed a little less tears.
I am not sad. The tears could be from the multitude of thoughts and feelings I am going thru - that of the last 10 days, all the travelling but arriving no-where, the soujourn while I swiped photos on my phone that reminded me of key events and conversations or laughters etc, of work or withdrawal from work, of the madness and rush of city life, of thoughts of isolation or things I do to keep myself busy, of songs that eases me or nudges me and much more.
I let myself shed those tears so I can breath easy.
I, then asked myself why is it that my heart and being feels empty? Was the holiday not enough? And I realised it was never about holidays, it was about me trying hard to reconnect with my roots with such extensive travels and making that effort to meet them all. Bitter and hard to share but - to feel at home in those smell of the house, kitchen, habits or events recreated or just walking in those isolated quite lanes or amongst my own people or with them, doing things that I use to growing up, meet and live with the same people to create that ecosystem I lost long ago....
But I am sorry for myself, my being slowly started to come to terms with letting go, not put myself too much on the pedestal of responsibilities and pull back.
Anyways, just writing my feelings here helps and my heart starts to feel home. And now I wonder, how I crossed oceans and met people but at last the howllowness of my heart could create symphony only in the acknowledgement and an honest validation of my own feelings, purely without any judgements or criticism.
While I was cleaning notes on my phone, I came across a saved post from one of the WhatsApp shareing and that became the anchor for me...
*Would like to share a few lines with you.....*
The longing for things
that you could not have,
the yearning for places
you were not destined to arrive.
Wistful memories of what was
not ever meant to be.
Regret for not being who
you thought you would become.
These hallucinations of the soul
are agonizing prisoners
that must be pardoned and released.
Clear the room.
Open the door
and let them leave.
And in this space,
you’ll paint a glorious existence
of being here with presence
and contentment for what truly is
a relevant and meaningful life.
~an excerpt from Susan Frybort's extraordinary new book, 'Open Passages',
--
@blr home, I got the best arrival gift! My first peace lily bud 😌❣️
Thank you love.💕
