This post is an exercise in experimenting with how long and in what form thoughts stay alive in your head unexpressed. Do they lose some of that zing and excitement when they first came to you or, having gotten a chance to percolate in your brain for a few days, become better?
It's like the example about American poet Ruth Stone that Elizabeth Gilbert shared in her talk on creative genius. Stone would 'feel' a poem charging towards her as she worked in the fields and in turn feel the need to instantly turn around and run to the house to be able to jot down the poem, or thoughts, on paper.
I've had several such 'writing emergencies', some of which I alluded to on this blog. I have acted on these writing emergencies fairly instantaneously. However, this time around, I wanted to experiment with what form my thoughts would take, sitting there in my head waiting to be let out.
So, here goes. My clutch of thoughts from this past week.
- The
year began anew, and the work year also began anew in the middle of the
week. The ride to work that morning was an exclamation-filled effort in
trying to get to my destination safely. After nearly two weeks of quiet
roads and lulled traffic, the after-new-year's-eve driving seemed to be an
unleashing of rookie drivers on the road all desperately trying to make up
for rolling out of bed late by driving like the devil himself! Yeah, it
was a video game-esque experience escaping sudden jerky vehicular moves as
I tried to arrive at my workplace with myself and my sanity in one piece.
- Of
late, I've been focussing on deep and intent-filled breathing any time
during the day when I feel calm eluding me. On a call with a customer
service representative, I was asked to stand by as the person at the other
end of the line tried to find the information I needed. After being on
hold for more than a couple minutes, I instinctively breathed in and out
with a deep, long and satisfying sigh to release all the stress I could
feel building up. From the other side of the phone I heard a, "I'm
sorry; it will take just a few moments longer." And my inner
monologue to myself was instantly, "dang woman, don't breathe!"
I realized that she didn't mute the line, and neither did I. All that
my brain could now tell me was, "don't breathe!" And I did just
that! After what seemed like an eternity, the representative came alive on
the phone again and began relaying the information I wanted. My slightly-starved-of-oxygen
brain now started pounding, "breathe now, woman, breathe!"
- The
first week of the year is also a reminder of loss for me. I lost my
grandmother at the start of the year, three years ago. It's always a
conscious effort by me to fight off thoughts and memories related to her
that naturally begin cropping up around that time. It's a coping mechanism
because the pain is still too intense to feel and to have to go through.
It's much easier to block off the thoughts and memories. Some memories do
sneak their way into my consciousness. Some of those memories seem like
they are so far away in my mind now that it almost feels like they were a
part of a previous life. Some memories are bitingly fresh and seem like it
was just yesterday the the thing they're reminding me of occurred. There
was one such memory that came to me this week - the memory of adversity
growing up but my grandmother's tenacity in the face of it all; those
meals that were nothing more than the proverbial 'sukhi', dry roti and
pyaaz; the symbolism in those meals of persisting, trudging on
through hard times; the teaching that my grandmother was
implicitly imparting to field life's highs and lows with grace... The
teaching remains, the memory - painful and sad.
- Writing
is meditative. Writing requires patience. It can't be hurried. It needs
sukoon.
There! That's my coterie
of thoughts, all neatly laid out. How do they fare though? Better or worse than
when they first came to me. That's an analysis for another blog post.
