Starting to write again feels like coming back home. It has been a while. Plenty of sunlit afternoons later, I have found myself on my couch, in a dimly lit living room, finally coming back to my keyboard to just write.
Something, anything would be enough for this page - is what I am telling my rusty thoughts. For days I have been an observer as I have seen life tangle and untangle in autopilot around me. There is a deep sense of peace in that - a monk-like calmness that often comes back after the heart settles in. Life carries on though, as it always does. Thoughts, however organized or dissonant, refuse to give up their rightful place. So here I am.
I actually forgot the last time I had a public home for my thoughts, well, the journals, and diaries were always there, but putting them out in the wild makes me feel quite naked. Life has taken me to places, and at times I found refuge on my private pages that I can actually call home. Picking bits and pieces out of them feels deceiving, and the nervousness of putting my voice out in the world is often intense. So this is my attempt to unfasten some grips.
Gathering thoughts and making a harmonic arrangement out of them has been a challenge I always enjoyed. It's in the bits and pieces, in between stages where I often thrived. Little scattered things here and there has kept life eventful. When I sat to write this time, this is what I wanted to actually focus on. Creating a string of loosely connected dots...
I have decided to go on with this like I have decided with many things - with little attachment, and no expectations.
A lot has changed between the time I started this post and now. Things that deserves more than an honourable mention on this page. Right now I will just hit publish.