Sprinkled Sentiments #16

400. I have to admit it somewhere, so it might as well be here. I read a major chunk of Refusing Heaven and I didn’t understand a major chunk of it. What I know from this experience is that I still have learning to do. And that makes me happy. For isn’t it wonderful to come upon beautiful things for the first time?

399. I kind of like lipstick. I really, really do. Who would have thought?

398. So much Mary Oliver has been read this year that my current life theme involves reaching out for flowers, gardens, silence, and poetry. Please read Mary Oliver. Some day. One day.

397. Indignant. Ornate. Decadent.

396. As I am writing this list after two years, a huge shout out and hug to my running group. Because you guys have to be on my blog! (No, I don’t run, they do. I just eat with them.)

395. Happy birthday.

394. Guess who can finally read Biblical Hebrew. New skill set ftw! Throwback to #366.

393. I was very afraid to get onto that flight to New York. I didn’t know if I was ever going to be able to travel alone again. But I did.

392. What blows my mind about some Coke Studio Pakistan songs are the stories behind them. Their songs come wrapped in history and spirituality and exquisite language. Now that I know that Paar Channa De is the story of Heer and Ranjha, it’s not just a song anymore. It’s history, a poem, an immortality.

391. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

390. I miss reading like my life depended on it. My attention span has gone to hell in a handcart. So far, this year, I’ve read only a handful of books.

389. One for the rainy evenings: Dil Kamla, Natasha Khan & Faakhir Mehmood

388. Q. How do y’all “talk about the universe”? Like what does that even mean?
A. I don’t know, maybe it means talking about the number of astronauts in space according to NASA’s Instagram handle, the space debris, the way the sunshine falls on our shoulders, and the rising moon, and how the overcast sky is a metaphor for all things in-between?

387.Because sometimes I live in a hurricane of words
and not one of them can save me.
– Naomi Shihab Nye

386. Jasmines bloom at sunset.

385. Turns out, it is difficult to write about the simple things. For how does one say “I miss you,” without being cheesy or cliched? Expression is hard. Good writing is never as easy as it sounds.

384. From time to time, it humbles me how I loved I am. How well taken care of.

383. I know someone who makes me want to simplify everything, go back to the basics, unlearn everything I have learnt, and see the world all over again.

382.Did you just call me a pot?”

381. Okay, okay, I love my phone.

380. Will I ever learn how to write the silences?

“Teri yaad aandi rayi
Nindraan udaandi rayi
Doori maitho vekhi na gayi”

378. I bought new ink pens. I am so excited!

377. Now that my Hebrew class is coming to a close, I am contemplating learning calligraphy next. No? Yes? Maybe?

un ke dekhe se jo aa jaatī hai muñh par raunaq
vo samajhte haiñ ki bīmār kā haal achchhā
– Mirza Ghalib

Sprinkled Sentiments #15

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