Can nothing be a thing,
That is heavy on the heart?
Can nothing be a knife,
That carves out a hollow in the chest?
Can nothing be dark,
Engulfing the air around, suffocating me?
It seems to have too much character for being nothing.
It approaches every night
And I am afraid of sleep.
It approaches every dawn
And I am afraid of the day,
Of going through the motions,
The endless rituals of what we call life,
As I hide behind the mask of a white lie;
“I am afraid of nothing.”
Photo by Yaoqi Lai
Looming up,
An insurmountable wall.
It glories in her defeat,
Rises in her fall.
But she has something
Worth fighting for.
She may lose all her battles
But she will win the war.
Photo by Dikaseva
Both hands are tied;
The strings, an intricate pattern
Just barely co-existing,
A mere second away from getting tangled
And messing up the show.
She manages to maneuver
All important pieces of her soul
Separating them, letting them meet.
Dancing a delicate dance
That only she knows the steps to.
But tugs at both her hands continue
The tangles keep getting tighter.
Her platform is now a stage
And her strings are controlling her;
The puppeteer now a puppet.
Trying out new things; the thought makes my stomach plunge a little every time. You know the feeling; a sudden jab of fear, adrenaline, and a worse version of “butterflies-in-the-stomach”. In general, stepping out of your comfort zone, leaving behind “what you know” invokes similar feelings.
I’m generally very good at identifying “what I know”. While that can be a valuable quality to have in various situations, it is also a liability in personal development; I form unnecessary boundaries and define limits for myself.
This is not my thing: not making an attempt.
I’ll try my best but I’m warning you, I’m not very good at this: being apologetic in advance.
I know what all of these statements mask. A fear of failure. What if I try it and find out I’m not good at it? I won’t even try. What if people see me fail? I’ll claim I knew it in advance. All the while hiding behind a claim of self-knowledge and a show of courage.
I’ve spent a lifetime in a cocoon. I’ve cottoned my surroundings to lessen the impact of any stumbling block. All my life, I’ve held on to things that I know I’m good at. It has stopped me from giving a chance to things that I could have tried and probably enjoyed. And yet, I know I’m missing something; exhilaration. Devoting your whole and soul to something and simply hope for the best.
The past semester has taught me various things. Getting past the feeling of vulnerability is one of those things. I’ve tried to put myself forward, right into that uncomfortable spot, in small, everyday moments of life, consciously. A prick of fear, many moments of “What was I thinking!” and a final dogged attempt later, I’ve always feel glad of attempting the uncomfortable. And in most cases, it hasn’t been that bad. A lot of my inhibitions have been over-exaggerated and sometimes, downright irrational.
In this past semester, I’ve made myself face small challenges every day. I’ve tested and flexed what I thought my boundaries were. I’ve launched heads-on into things that make me uncomfortable. The results have been satisfying. I’ve found new strengths. I’ve discovered a depth in my capacities that I never knew of.
Unfortunately, I’ve found out that such attempts, while very enlightening, have not changed my basic instinct. Which is to save myself from failing. A few days of comfort, and coming back to facing vulnerability is as difficult as ever. Bravery then, is a product of not one (or a few), but many such attempts.
This is my goal now; to continue to challenge myself every day, to try my hand at something new, to conquer that discomfort felt in the pit of my stomach. My goal is to fail, perhaps in the eyes of the world, so that I do not fail myself.
Note: Sorry for the long absence. I’ve had a great time being busy and working hard. 🙂 In the coming posts, I shall be writing about a lot of things that I’ve learnt in the past few months. But for now, here’s a poem.
Photo via Pinterest
My poetry is a window
To the chasms of my heart.
My words are cloaked by a veil
That only some can tear apart.
I weave into ink
What cannot be said.
My poetry is a pattern
Of the mosaic of my soul.
I shall stop writing
The day someone discovers
The chink in my armour,
The crack in my wall.
For then, it will all be out.
All fears and dreams;
My desires, all naked
For strange eyes to see.
For then, I shall be unclothed.
But for now, I can’t stop.
For now, I have to write.
Or else, the words will die.
Photo by Jon Sullivan (Wikimedia Commons)
The wait is endless.
The outcome no nearer in sight.
But the fears have fallen
On the way in the quest to get.
I stand impatiently
On the branching pathways.
Each road better and worse.
Each way beckoning and repelling.
I see broken shadows
Of desires; pent-up and hidden,
A lifetime of unspoken wishes
On the path that I’ve come from.
But I’ve come a long way
And the past is now
Nothing but that; past.
I look forward, restive.
The fierce fire burns within
The wake of passion
Has shaken off
The strings of vulnerability.
I am no longer afraid.
Unabashed, I am free to be.
As the fears have fallen
On the way in the quest to get.
In A Song for Summer by Eva Ibbotson, there is a scene, where the protagonist, Ellen is being interviewed by the principal of the boarding school where she has applied to be a housemother. At one point, he asks her what she fears. And she replies, “Not being able to see.”
Being blind isn’t what she meant. She meant being limited by something (prejudice, love) to be able to gain a clear perspective on a situation. Basically, she meant that she was afraid of being ruled by own emotions, her own fixed ideologies.
I’m sure that many of us struggle with this. There has been a time period in my life when I was so consumed by what was supposed to be, that I failed to see what actually was. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had problems with perfection. It was particularly bad during this period. I had such a clear vision of a Plan, that I couldn’t (wouldn’t) accommodate any curve balls. Admitting to myself that I tried something and failed isn’t easy for me. It’s not about other people; I don’t accept my own failures with an open mind. And this is the reason why I could only see my so-called “failures” instead of what I had actually achieved.
Today when I look back at that time, I realise that the situation wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like my life was doomed if just one single thing went wrong. My plans weren’t that off-the-track that I couldn’t redeem. I know now, that I could have avoided a lot of pain, tears, irrational fears, had I been able to see.
Today has been one of those days. You know, when nothing seems to be going right. When your judgement is addled by mood swings. When your own view becomes so myopic that everything seems a disaster. I was agonizing for half a day about what was going wrong with absolutely everything. For the major part of the day, I could only see the flaws.
And then I stopped. I decided to let life happen, in its own way.
It’s so easy to become lost in the perfect picture of the future. I’ve mentioned before that I make a conscious effort at trying to be in the present. It still doesn’t come that naturally. But I try.
I fear it too; not being able to see. Because I know what that kind of narrow-minded worry can do to me. Instead, I try to let out the steam; cool off, call up my mother and rant about people and things that she barely knows. But I try not to let that anxiety sit in my heart. It’s better to be annoying to others for a little while than harm yourself with worry. People who are close always understand.
Hello! It’s Day #4 of Blogtember.
Friday, September 6: A story about a time you were very afraid.
Now this is a difficult one. I’m presenting it in a poem.
The Notebook of Dreams
I opened the notebook at night.
I wrote of all my dreams,
Adding each colour, each flavour.
I described each mood lovingly,
Each moment of the time when
Those dreams would be fulfilled.
People came, they wondered.
“Isn’t your dream brown?”
I looked confusedly at my notebook.
It looked violet to me.
“Your dream is brown, how wonderful!”
They persisted.
The more I looked
The more the violet faded
The more the brown emerged.
“My dream is brown” I said.
And went about working
Striving for success in the brown.
Strangely, my plans didn’t account
For any of the brown.
Frustrated, I strained myself
Trying to search it in the sea of violet.
But, no! There wasn’t any violet, was there?
I had been convinced of it.
The brown kept eluding me.
And finally, the stark fear came to front.
That paralyzing fear of failure.
“I can’t be successful in brown! I cried.
“All my dreams are shattered!”
I broke down then.
Time passed, and the broken pieces
Glued themselves together.
New colours were formed.
The eyes, which had grown
Used to the dreary dark
Started recognizing the hues and shades.
And one day, finally
I gathered the courage
To search for the notebook.
Dust had settled on it,
But it was there in front of me all this while.
I opened the notebook again.
The dreams were all violet!
Surprised, I turned the pages
With furious intensity.
Violet! All violet!
“My dreams are violet!” I smiled ruefully.
And let a silent tear escape my eyes.
I know I haven’t disclosed much. But I think that people can relate to fear no matter what situation caused it.
Photo via Pinterest
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