Two

607 words

I dreamt that my phone fell from the balcony of my house, and though I went downstairs, I did not pick it up, instead I took an auto and went elsewhere. Even in my dream, I am afraid of seeing broken things or facing little destructions; I am afraid of all the work and logistics that would follow. Even in my dream fear is a companion.

A couple of months ago, I had episodes of dizzying spells that I could not ignore. I used to feel like I would fall down, the inside of my eyes would hurt, and some times I needed to lie down or look into the distance to feel better. After much worrying and investigating, it was observed that I would feel this way on days when I spent a lot of time in front of screens. I had to consciously reduce my screen time, take breaks to look into the distance, and get up from my seat and go for a short stretch. I also had to increase non-digital activities, to keep my hands occupied.

On some days, that were particularly bad, I would shut all my devices and take a break. I was keenly paying attention to my body and distancing myself from screens as if they were a predator trying to physically harm me. These episodes of overdosing on screens and information overload made me kinder towards myself, and I did the opposite of blaming myself for not keeping up – I unsubscribed from the culture of working hard, needing to know everything, and being available all the time. I didn’t want to push my body towards virtual interfaces, towards trying to keep up with something that wasn’t good for me.

This is also why I find myself gravitating towards the peacefulness of leaves and flowers, and why my favourite place to walk down is a street lined with trees. Of course, my love for slowing down and nestling myself into the arms of greenery and flowing water started much earlier. I suppose it is an aching auguring old age; this need to be surrounded and cared for by greenery, by aged branches, and be in their company. I feel young and old in the midst of nature. I feel tired and renewed. As if the two feelings intersperse into each other alternating between what is done and what is possible.

On Friday, I saw a flutter of butterflies pass by me and one of them, black and yellow, was as large as the palm of my hand. Seeing them frolic and fly around, rabble rousing, made me so happy and then, made me an inch sad, because this is the kind of world I want to live in every day. A world where being surrounded by fluttering butterflies is a routine occurrence, and one of them sits on your thigh as you do whatever mundane thing you do with your time.

In my mind, I am moving towards an oldness seeping into my bones that has more to do with a slowness of life rather than breaking down of the body. I want to build the hard thing that takes a while but outlasts time; cook slowly and eat slower with prayer and laughter, walk on the grass wherever I go, take a book to the park, dial down the urgency of wanting everything now, plant something and let it grow at its own pace. To this end, today I replanted my rose plant in a place which gets lots of sunlight so that it has everything it needs to grow. I will now leave it be.

Day One