Being just Enough

We go through our daily motions in frenzy, trying everything within our means to ensure that we don't just live but feel alive. The primary difference between humans and other animals is that we have the capacity to think, and be self-aware that this one life that we have is precious. We can introspect, analzye and strategize to make our life more meaningful.We need a reason to live. We need to be needed.

Lately life has been on an auto mode. You know the daily grind mode - alarm, work, home and repeat. Don't get me wrong, life is good but.... This is a stage of life that no one warns you of - the cynical middle ages -the stage when your idealist notions about life has been crushed and after spending more than 20 years on raising little humans, you are faced with a void.

 Life without any purpose has no meaning. Most people assume that purpose needs to be something grandeur . It can be as simple as raising kids,  having a loving family or just to ensure that you are able to put a smile on somebody's face. I have always regretted to a certain extent at the ordinariness of my life. It is as ordinary as it can be. No stories of adventure, no glamour, no great love story and no extraordinary achievement. I am as ordinary as can be and I have struggled with the fact that maybe I could have done more. The need for more, to be better, is immense. The pressure we put ourselves in to be our better than our versions can skew our view of life.

I want to be enough. Just be enough as a wife, a mother as a worker and friend . The niggling doubt of not being enough, not having enough is the bane of my life. I keep on reminding myself that it is okay if the house is untidy, it is okay to not want to cook for a day, for wanting to lose my temper at times, to feel frustrated. The picture of my life in mind and myself is driven by perfection. Life is beautiful and ugly - but definitely not perfect.  I am realizing that this competition with the image of how my life is and how I should behave has shackled me to an unrealistic expectation of life and happiness.

The feeling of inadequacy will always be part of my life - it is who I am.We all tackle our inadequacies in our own way - putting on a mask to camouflage our vulnerability. I hide my intensity by projecting a " I don't care attitude" which can be interpreted by some as being a snob, indifferent or proud. A wise friend told me once, self-preservation is the key to survival . Our masks, our personas that we cultivate are just tools for the same. I don't think I will ever feel adequate, but with age, I am learning to live my life around it, accepting my imperfections, and shortcomings .It is a struggle not to admonish myself for every small mistake, to let go of  a habit that has become a part of me, but I do realize now that the eternal truth is  that,  in the end, it doesn't matter - nothing matters. Enjoy this ride, take a splash in the mucky puddle and although imperfect, we are all unique.

A Good Life

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Time and again we are told stories of people who strive to live an extraordinary life. Stories that stir up our imagination and build up our hopes to have a "better life". A life that when we are old and waiting for our end, we can look back and say that yes I have led a good life. Yet what qualifies as a good life?  For the longest time I  been fascinated by people who go on adventures - people who are complex and live an "enriched life", till I met our neighour Joe.  Joe and Sonya moved into our neighbourhood 4 years ago. and knowing him has changed my attitude about how I want to grow old and how I want my story to end.  Now to just give you a backstory, Joe and Sonya moved  next door around 4 years ago.  There are some people who leave a mark on you, they teach you to live life. Joe is one of those people.

I have been meaning to write about him for a while now. Joe moved here in his early youth from Portugal, and like many of the new immigrants moving to Canada, didn't know a single word of English. To give you the gist, he till date barely knows how to read and write, and his English even after years in Canada, is so heavily accented that at times you take a guess at what he is saying. What sets him apart from the other people I have known, is that he is love personified. He loves his plants - gardening all the way into his mid eighties, and every time you meet him , a bit of his optimisitic attitude rubs off on you. Small things like remembering my birthday,along with all the members of my family,  staying up till late so that he wouldn't miss out on giving me my card and flowers, taking care of our garden as if it were his own and of course his hugs and joyful" Hey Avy," whenever he sees me.He is the type of guy who waits with cans of pop for the guys who come to pick up garbage, the guy who will bring his homemade wine when he sees that we have guests over, the guy who changed my mind about what legacy I wanted to leave behind.  His kids and grandkids come to visit frequently - they still have Halloween and Christmas parties at home and believe me he parties more than we do. And he still takes homemade lunch for his kids every Wednesday at work.

Recently he had a health scare, yet when we went to meet him, he was cheerful like always. By all means Joe has led an ordinary life - nothing exciting, no adventures, no travels, but what he and his wife have now, is what I want. I want to be surrounded by people to love and in return hopefully be loved. Joe has taught me to appreciate smaller things in life, to make the ordinary life extraoridnary by just adding a dose of love and kindness.  That in my opinion is a "good life " amd if I can emulate even 10% of his attitude and personality, I would consider my life to be successful. 

Dispensable me

“Which of us can resist the temptation of being thought indispensable?” 

― Margaret Atwood

Last couple of months, I have been in a reflective mood -in plain words, been over-thinking, analyzing and in general trying to make sense of who I am. Now, this would be interesting and perfectly normal if I was a teenager but even for an introvert like me, this was a long stretch of time spent in introspection.You need to be by yourself, to quieten your thoughts to face the truths that you always knew to  be true but chose to ignore. Universal truths - facts - that we all know, accept yet somewhere in our subconsciousness hope that it is not true. For instance, Death is certain, yet we live like we are going to live for ever.

 On the same note, we might give the lip service of understanding that we are dispensable, but in our hearts hope that it is not the truth.

We are replaceable, in our jobs, in our relationships. Life goes on and will go on and as much as it hurts to accept this fact, it is the truth. Every time we are in relationship, every time we connect, we give a piece of ourselves, unknowingly hoping that it would make a lasting difference. Maybe the piece lives on as a fleeting memory, or a throbbing heartache or an inspiration. But that is the optimistic in me speaking.

Our inflated egos and our distorted versions of our importance make us believe that we are indispensable. Our friends, our families, our employers all need us. Yet the truth is that we are easily replaceable and it actually is hurtful to know how easily. Life is fluid, it is limitless. It is like the moving car and we are like that occasional  fly sitting on the glass window - enjoying the free ride, but  utterly insignificant. Fact is that when we are actually able to imbibe the universal truths, when they are not just pop culture positivity quote, we are liberated. All our hang-ups, all our plans, and above all, our egos and the fodder for it - our expectations from others, dissipate into thin air. I find myself oscillating between accepting the fleeting nature of my existence to just ignoring the fact that I am not the centre of universe.

The buddishts contemplate on death, our impermanence.Times when I am overwhelmed or find myself berating myself, I sit down and contemplate on these universal truths.  It is a good exercise if practiced with a good attitude to maintain clarity on the priorities in life.

Stories Galore

We all have a story to tell; a story so unique that the events can only be experienced by you. I am not sure of others, but every time I walk by houses with the lights on seen through their half-drawn blinds allowing for a partial glimpse the TV show playing in the house with an isolated couch, my curious mind runs on overtime, building up stories. Look around you - the number or people, the lives being lived, the lives lived and  the lives that will be lived, and the possibilities of stories seem infinite.

We humans are fascinating. We are resillient, stupid, loving and cruel all at the same time. To think of it, all that we feel is all that we are. Feel anger, love, judgment, or feel fear, you are what you think and perceive.The best part is that no one can make us feel small without our permission.  I have learnt the hard way — in fact I am still learning. 

One big part of my job is meeting people and being privy to their lives. Some tragic, some insipirational and just some that you can relate to. I am privileged to meet the people on the streets, living off welfare, meeting people with money and most of the time, people who are what we call the struggling middle class. I have learnt not to judge, to show kindness and even if someone is reeking in weed, or having a body odour from not taking a bath for days, or smelling of urine — and I am not talking about small kids — it is okay and everyone has a story. 

I get to meet not just the cynical middle aged people that I can relate to, but also the young hopefuls, bright, confused and anxious about stepping  into the big bad world. People in different life stages,a nonagenarian having lived the life to the fullest struggling with a decaying body, or the young expectant parents eagerly waiting to take on new responsibilities.  People who have lost their jobs, changed careers (like from a nurse to a mortician), people who have lost loved ones, some of natural course of events, some tragically young.  

One thing that has stuck with me is that no matter what your financial status, no matter what life stage you are in, we all have the same aspirations. We all want to be loved, to be treated with kindness and most importantly with respect. We all want the human connection. There are some who in a short two minute talk can leave a long lasting impression, or some who without saying a word can belittle you. The former you cherish and the latter teaches you tolerance and forgiveness.

Analyze this

With the advent of Fall, you start to prepare yourself mentally not only to longer nights and gloomy days, but also to the fact that Autumn will inadvertently lead to long and dreary winters. I have always loved cooler and crispier Fall weather, but this year surprisingly I was in love with summer and have been feeling very reluctant to let it go. Human mind can conjure many scenarios - connections that would even put Freud to shame. I am very fond of self-diagnosis, Right from psychoanalyzing my behaviour, using the dubious online quizzes, to searching up on Mayo Clinic website, one the many, to give name to some of imagined and real symptoms. The results as you can guess can be either hilarious or tragic. For instance I have come to the conclusion that as summer represents youth, I am finding it more favourable than the mature Autumn. In short I am in denial.  This theory is just one of the many - some too outrageous when put in black and white. 

I can go from I don't care to do they like me within seconds - yes my brain can shift gears faster than a sports car. At times it does get exhausting to just catch up with the various fictional scenarios that my mind conjures. There are self-talk shows, soap operas, and even detective shows running simultaneously in my head. And before you judge me, no I am not crazy - at least that is what I have self-diagnosed myself as. I like to analyze situations, dissect my emotions and find reasoning in illogical feelings. The only problem is that I am usually left with half-baked theories and oveworked mind. It is as if the concept of professional help is alien to me. 

My self-diagnosis at times leads to self-medication. Websites, blog posts and Dr. Oz are your best friends  and when all else fails, you reach out to friends for help. My weak eyesight  has me buying readers from store - no prescription, my low energy level has me scouring through dozens of posts, only to find that all that research leaves me exhausted. I have read or at least browsed through all the potential self-help books- including how to make friends, how to make money and of course how to be a better parent The results for most parts have been disastrous - apart from some success stories, but the resilient me never gives up. 

I have tried DIY projects at home - and although there isn't much to show in terms of finished products, I do have a collection of memorabilia of incomplete projects.Over the years, you would think that I would have learnt my lesson, but at times I think that it is getting worse.I am unsure if it my basic lack of trust in other people's abilities or the allure of cost-effectiveness of doing it yourself or if it is one of my many idiosyncrasies, but it is definitely a part of who I am. I do wonder at times how far I would take this "I know it all" attitude, but I definitely see myself as a perfect candidate for euthanasia if needed in the future, exiting on my own terms

Anam Cara

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…” “It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Recently an article came up on my Facebook feed about a Gaelic term "Aman Cara"  or Soul friend.  The whole concept of  having a connection with someone where your souls recognize each other was very fascinating to me. The relationship isn't defined as romantic or platonic - just  where you can reveal your authentic self - no judgments fearlessly.I have had some such connections, some that have lasted over the years, and some that were short-lived. Soul friend - an endearing term, a term that alleviates your loneliness, makes you feel thankful to be alive. I remember being enchanted by the novel"Brida" by Paulo Coehlo where he talks about soul mates - pieces of one soul that meet and recognize each other.  

 There is this innate desire within us - an urgent need as important as breathing, and it is the need to communicate. When I say communicate, I mean to be understood fully by at least one soul. We can love and be loved, we can be surrounded by people, smile and joke, yet if there is no honest dialogue, where your thoughts, fears and just your essence is being shared, you end up being lonely. The more individualistic you are, the more radical your thoughts are, the weirder you are, the lonelier you will be. We were born to share our emotions, our thoughts and hope that someday your true self will be revealed. Someone will actually know you 

We have all been through that phase in life, where all you wanted was a human contact, a verbal , non-verbal or just a simple physical gesture of hug. It is said that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Yet genuine connection requires honesty and being honest means trusting someone to see your vulnerability. And trusting someone doesn't come easy to some of us. I fear growing old, fear being lonely. There I said it  loud. The words that most of us ponder over, especially as you grow older.

Why is it so important for us to have a dialogue? Why do we need to be heard? And what makes some people more prone to loneliness than others? Years ago, people talking about mental health was a taboo. Now it is common to discuss about depression and anxiety and the medications that help to cure them. Yet we are still hesitant to talk about being lonely. In this time starved society, where busyness is considered a virtue, no one has the time or patience to actually listen.  Time is of premium and patience is something that in this generation of instant gratification is not valued. There is the obvious solitude and loneliness in the older generation - they can be without human contact for days and as we live longer, dealing with isolation among the senior population is something that we will need to address.  And hence as ridiculous as Minister of Loneliness sounds, UK is taking the right step in addressing how to address this epidemic that is rampant in most developed countries.

Not all of us are lucky to recognize our aman cara, but we can all try be kind and lend an ear to that lonely soul who is trying to reach out so that his or her thoughts could be heard. And to summarise it all, I  quote Jodi Picoult,  "if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” 

Of Setbacks and Failures.

Since past couple of days, I have spent hours  staring at this blank screen on my laptop, trying really hard to bring to life some of the thoughts that are in my head. Sometimes words just flow in symphony, lyrical and poetic, and at times like this I am just struggling to put a decent sentence together. Why write, if words don't flow - a question that I have asked myself many times. I am aware that the writings at times are mediocre at best, yet I also know that if I were to aim to be perfect, I would quit like I have done with so many other things in my life. 

I should actually say, quit before starting. Many of the things that I wanted to do in life was not even attempted, because of fear of failure. I am resilient when I have to be, but will definitely not step out of my comfort zone if  not needed. I am hard on myself and tend to dwell for long on my mistakes. Taking accountability and being self-aware is fine, but when you spend too much time reflecting on things that you have done wrong, you restrict yourself and sabotage your success.

My younger son is similar to me in temperament. Last week when he failed his driving test inspite of all putting in his 100% effort (I blame overthinking ) I was a wreck. Logically, my head knew that it wasn't the end of the world, yet my heart was appalled that we would have to repeat the process of giving test again and knowing what a nerve wrecking experience it was for him,  made it worse for me.It took me a couple of  hours to recover till realization struck me as to how important it was for him to fail. We succeed - and this is not a cliche but my personal experience, by failing. You fail when you attempt to do something that is beyond your comfort zone. Failures make you humble and teach you to be more empathetic. We are taught to only showcase our successes, to project our strengths. Broken people, shattered dreams are rarely discussed. Yet all success stories are build on failures and how we dealt with it. 

I am a sore loser, and therefore like to stay in my comfort zone. The dread of  embarrassment at being incompetent has been a major deterrent in aiming high. This trepidation prevented me from even trying to get a teller's job in bank. I didn't think I was capable enough .This is my basic nature and will not change,  but I want my kids to try and aim high and learn how to pick up pieces and try again. There is no shame in failing - it is what you do after is what defines you. Kids need to experience negative emotions intermittently. Rejections, disappointments, are all realities of life. There is no escape from it. Yet, rarely are we taught in school and home to develop a coping mechanism for the same. Life is not a series of plan A, B and C - It is dynamic and many times beyond our control and all our plans come to a nought. Successful people don't dwell on their failures, they learn and move on. I am trying to teach my son to be flexible, to value ingenuity, to be kind to people who make mistakes and to dust and say in Scarlett O'Hara's words " Tomorrow is another day".

Full circle

" I learnt years ago that the key to be happy was  not to give importance to what other people think as majority of them are idiots ".  Your kids have the ability to astound you and although I always knew that my son was his own person, there was this new found respect for this kid who I now called a friend.
Life comes to a full circle when we learn from our children. Early on in life, I had decided to leave the communication doors wide open with the children. No subject was off limits and just as my dad did, I encouraged my kids to think critically and form their own opinions. Heated debates and arguments are common in our house and at times instigated by me, although there are times when I have wondered at my choice of parenting style. Communication is not one sided and to find common grounds, I have had to keep growing. Watching genres of  superhero and sci-fi movies to  listening to music that I found hard to relate to in the beginning,   has all been part of trying to find avenues open to understand and respect interests that were relevant to them.  Parenting is never easy. We all want to raise successful young adults and I would be a hypocrite if I said that I don't share the same aspirations as other parents. Yet, I have struggled to balance between what is perceived by society as success and encouraging them to find happiness.At times they can both align and you have hit the jackpot, at others you have to choose to follow your destiny, which might not translate into financial success instantaneously.
Hindsight is always clearer and there have been times when I feel that not all my decisions were the best. Yet, here I am revelling in the company of two young well-behaved and kind young adults, who although as diametrically opposite as two people can be, still share the qualities of kindness and integrity.
There have been times in recent years when I have wondered at the validity of my role as parent. The kids are independent and my role as a nurturer has diminished over the years. Yet, when my son failed his driving test today, it brought into focus that although I was no longer the lead player in their lives, my part as a supportive and unconditional cheerleader would always be in demand. As with other relations, the key is to respect their boundaries and accept them for who they are unconditionally. It is harder than it sounds, because we are so conditioned to be their caregivers, that it is easy to forget that they have transitioned into well adjusted young adults and like with any other adult relationship, the key to success is respect, adhering to boundaries and forgiveness. I see my role evolving as years go by - at times cheering from sidelines, at times staying in the shadows as other lead players enter their life, yet knowing very well there will be always be demand for unconditional love and support.

Starry Starry Nights

Every now and then when life gets on to me, I switch out all the lights and stand under the open sky. Every year in the month of August, we go away from city lights to watch the meteroid shower, sprawling  on the ground, scouring the sky to see the elusive shooting stars. There is something about feeling your whole body connected to the earth, while your eyes are reaching out to the stars. You feel complete. Skywatching, looking for constellations sets my immagination in active motion. The magnificiently sequined sky is  the perfect company when you feel overwhelmed with your life.

Sometimes we need the right perspective to comprehend the magnitude or insignificance of our issues. Night is deceptive though. The sky seems quiet and calm, yet when you focus and scan the sky, you realize that it is active although unpretentiously. There is the occasional plane passing by to an unknown destination, triggering your imagination as to where it is coming from and if there is someone at this very moment looking down to connect with the earth. Then there are satellites passsing by actively  relaying information, just to  make you realize that it is not just fantasy land out there.

Taking refuge in the cover of darkness, the deepest thoughts shly come forward to meet me. Daylight brings distractions, mindless activities that we have somehow defined as living. Light dazzles us with her beauty, captivating us to only focus on what is defined and real. Yet at times I prefer nights - with the antics of the moon trying to gain our attention, or just the freckles of stars , chattering away in the silence of night.

There is a calm, a certain peace when you sit out in the dark - you don't need to close your eyes to shut away the world. Your heart safely engulfed in the embrace of darkness, opens up and this is the time when you contemplate on life, on your day and the very purpose of your existence.

Try standing under a sky, sprinkled with stars. Forget about the overwhelming scientific facts about how far they are from us, just look at those twinkling eys communicating cheering us in the night, and all your issues, all your fears dissipate. Everytime I feel that life is spiralling out of control, I stand under the sky - full moon, half moon, crescent moon or no moon, no matter what trick the moon wants to play, the sky has the key to open up my heart. Just like the woods and water clear up my head, the night is where I go to face my fears, to realize and accept the insignificance of my existence

Friendly Reminder

“A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series

Relationships are complex, and it is what makes us human beings so interesting — our conflicting emotions. My older son is a gamer — in layman's terms — he spends more time on virtual world than real developing virtual relations. Recently, he decided to go and meet his friends —  friends he had never met in person before. A paranoid mom that I am, I used Google Earth to  ensure that his friend wasn't living in a drug infested area and all the other crime mystery scenarios than only a mother's mind can conjure. I feel the need to confess that he is 20 years old, very level headed and an adult to the core. To cut a long story short, he had a fun-filled week connecting with his virtual friends in real world.

What is friendship? What draws us to other people ? Why do we open up our hearts and souls to some - maybe only a couple of people in our lifetime? I grew up in an era where you met friends face to face. When you leave your country, you leave behind friends. Friends who knew you before you had your adult mask on. Friends who could see through your bullshit - who knew and accepted you unconditionally. As I grow older, I realize that letting people into my life and making new friends is  a challenge. I have always been selective in letting people into my life. Time, for me is the most limited and precious resource. It makes no sense to me to spend it on people and things that do not make me happy.

Relationships in middle ages is harder to maintain. Everyone has so much on their plate, kids, family, that time needed to open up your soul to somebody becomes a rarity. Our relationships are our strengths as well as our weakness. Our relations can be one of passion, of being related by birth, but always for any relation to last, there needs to be trust and love or in short friendship. Friendship is the crux of all relations.

I have been very fortunate in my life to have some fascinating people who have not only uplifted my spirits when needed but also inspired me to be a better person. There is something about sharing your darkest thoughts with someone, opening up your heart knowing that your vulnerability can be used as a weapon.  When you share your darkest thoughts, let your guard down, bring your goofy unhinged self into spotlight, you are basically giving the other person power. Power to hurt you, power to lift you. Yet there can be nothing more precious than two souls connecting — understanding each other, accepting and even loving the follibles that others might find irritating. Love binds friendships, and trust keeps it alive. Being a good friend requires you to put your friends needs before oneself. To take turns to comfort, to listen, really listen, and never ever judge.

In this world where loneliness is rampant, where we are hesitant to even take our masks off for a minute, finding a true friend is a blessing that we cannot be taken for granted. 

Neapolitan Ice cream

Women are complex - we are intricate and mysterious - so mysterious that it takes us years to finally figure ourselves out - that is if you are lucky and introspective enough or just plain and simply shallow. There have been times in my life where I have had a Eureka moment, when I was absolutely certain that I could possibly do a bullet point PowerPoint slide to describe myself, only to realize that I had spoken too soon.  If you had asked me a couple of years earlier, I would have said that I am made of pieces - all the experiences of life quilted together.   But as time goes by and incidents trigger my particular case, I feel I am more like a layered cake or Neapolitan ice cream.

 Childhood and youth in India were a seemingly fairy-tale like, till I was of marriageable age - which in those days just after graduation. The traumatic events that followed in search of a "groom" is a story for another day - suffice to say that I still get nightmares where I am going through the whole process of "arranged marriage". Like most people, I avoid discussing painful events of my life. In hindsight, there were many things that I would have done differently. Apparently moving on is not one of my strengths and in many ways, I was the rebellion bride. I could have been more cooperative but just the whole concept of being paraded still has the power to disgust me. For all my talk I have lived a traditional lifestyle, yet I continue to question authority, traditions, religion and push beyond known boundaries till it is uncomfortable. The boundaries and restrictions taught by India is a part of me, settled deep down like a layer - undisturbed covered now with the free thinking of living in the west.
I am at time amused by how much I have evolved over the years. Although at present "the westernized me " is more predominant, the realization that whatever happens, however much I try and integrate into the western world, I will always have my layer of  India with me, makes me more true to myself.  I cannot blend my past with the current life, it is hiding somewhere deep, surfacing at times when a blast of nostalgia comes over. I used to think I lived in pieces, a part of me just like other immigrants left with the loved ones back home, but I have realized that we may be just leaving behind shadows of memories,... Memories are all illusions, they are distorted versions of our experiences. All my experiences in India and later in the Middle East, are a part of me - they are me.

I might have spent my youth in India but the West - Canada is where I grew into being an adult. Life happened - My chocolate layer is here - and I am laying it out perfectly over my vanilla. It is not blended, but it is who I am. The Western society opened up my thinking. Taught me to be open up, to be more tolerant.  I still remember calling up my dad and telling him that I saw a woman driving a semi-trailer 15 years ago. A woman did not necessarily have to be a doctor or teacher.  It was an eye-opener. The West is where I truly understood the meaning of equality of sexes, of freedom - freedom from labels. My teenagers are having a different life, single flavoured, but hopefully my expreiences from life in East will be be the colourful sprinkle that will brighten their view of life. 

Mini sojourn

Lately, the realization that maybe spending time with me was not the best option for the young adults in my family, has had me scrambling for creative ways to keep myself busy. I have been clinging to the old times, trying to clench tightly to the last vestige of their childhood and dependency on me, till I realized that I was only hurting myself and maybe them in the process too. 

It was a hot day today, and unfortunately for my kids I don't function too well in the heat,A single spark on this day,  was an offhanded rebuttal of my proposal to go to the lake  and it created a chain reaction that ended with me literally packing my bag with a book and water and heading off to " I don't know where".  

I huffed and puffed my way to packing my bag, intentionally making loud noises to get their attention and in the wild hope to hear that one voice that would say mom it's okay.. we will come with you.

 I do regret to a certain extent that I didn't behave like an adult — infact more like a petulant teenager threatening to leave the house . But again, considering how many times I have experienced that same behaviour from them, I think I have earned my right to behave a little insolently sometimes.

Resigning to the fact that it was going to be a solo trip, I drove off to a nearby regional park (I chickened out on going to a park with no phone signals), I parked and with little trepidition walked into the woods. I didn't go far,  just till a spot that I had been earlier to — a quiet little spot where you could walk to the stream — and found a mossy rock that was going to be my comfy chair for the next couple of hours or till my posterior went numb. The spot is idyllic and although sitting by the gurgling stream, listening to birds chirping in the majestic trees is something that I had always wanted to do, there was also this thought at the back of my mind that there could be a deranged killer hiding in the bush and if I were to be attacked, there would be no one to hear me scream. Mind you the thoughts were flitting and for the most of the time, the joy of reading an engrossing book in the musical orchestrated by nature in the background was pure bliss. I had time to reflect, to just quieten my busy mind, and actually to physically and mentally cool off. Streams have that ability, they are young, clear and joyous, flowing with an effervescent optimism  that is a perfect prescription to lift the spirits of this middle aged body and mind. 

An hour into my mini sojourn, a call from my kids inquiring as to where and how I was, was all I needed to realize that they defined home and I was still needed. This was all the affirmation I could have asked for. My short spurt of independence assured me that I would be okay by myself and somehow in that woods, all by myself, I felt less lonely than I had been in a long time. The fresh spirit of the stream was all I needed to rejuvenate - at least till next meltdown. 

Home sweet home

Where is home? Home is where family is, where heart is. Home is also is where you make new memories, where you meet your clan.Years ago, when we decided to move to Canada, tagging along two young kids, one just an infant, little did I know that I was choosing to distance myself from my roots and that it would not always be easy. At times it seems like yesterday when we were fresh off the boat and some other times, it is like this is where I was always meant to be.
Belonging to what we call " visible minority" in India, the pressure to fit in was intense even as a kid. I did fit in, but pretentiously - like a round ball trying to fit into a square peg, except that I pretended that I was square . I am a rebel - a punk, I have never found it easy to fit into a community based on religion, region or any other commonalities that bring people together . There are people who belong, and then there are the outsiders. The oddballs, souls that probably do not belong to the current generation,  looking to fit in, or  trying to find their lost clan. And find they must, because we humans need to be part of something bigger than ourselves, we need to connect, we need to belong and feel at home.

Canada is a land of immigrants. It is where we oddballs, rebels and adventurers from all over the world  have decided to settle. Where Terry Fox and Rick Hansen are more popular and inspirational than any politician. I have realized that this is home. This beautiful, and accepting country, and its people who have taught me to be kind, polite and giving. I am surrounded by displaced people, individualists, people who didn't belong to their respective countries. People who were risk takers, who were looking for a better life. They are my clan. Your religion, colour, language, nothing matters, except that we are all here together,  holding on to our traditional values while assimilating the Canadian values - values of volunteerism, acceptance and openness

I have changed over the years - become not just tolerant, but welcoming  and  embracing the different cultures . Every time I look at the people using public transit, I am fascinated by the diversity of this country. Wear a turban, hijab or head tie - or shave your head or tatoo it, it is all the same . There is something about kindness and being nice - it changes you. Makes you want to be a better person. A Louise giving a new immigrant like me a ride to college every day  for a year,  picking and dropping without fail, was my introduction to Canadian values.

We are all here for different reasons, but we connect through stories of displacement, and a sense of adventure. We share pinning for countries of youth and, lost friends, we understand the struggles to adapt to a foreign land, making it your own. And we know that  every first generation immigrant who  came before us, went through the same process of assimilation.

Spotlight on Summer

 It is summer time here in Maple Ridge  and although I am not a big fan of heat, I am learning to appreciate a break from incessant rain and rationed sunlight, in  short the bleak winters. Spring is pretty but Summers are special here - longer daylight means you get to enjoy the outdoors even after coming from work. It means that you open your eyes at daybreak with light streaming through the blinds. It means that morning does equal to daylight and  you are ready to welcome a new day.

Summer can be defined as  no coats, no boots, no layering of clothes, wear your flipflops and shorts and you are ready to go, season. Your hats and sunglasses take on a new meaning and so does sunblocks. Ice creams and water melons, beer and barbeque all fight to shine in the spotlight. Lakes are packed with revellers wanting to soak in the warmth of the sun, and beachsides are potentially packed. It is the time to tie up your hiking boots, and inhale the fresh cut grass and pine cones. I am going to omit the odours of marijuana that creeps in through the windows - a mild irritant and focus on the aromas of meat cooking on barbeque. 

Summers as I mentioned earlier are special - kids are off school, and that translates to dropping or picking them up from school, no lunches and potentially half an hour extra to sleep in, It also means planning family trips, or weekend getaways. We still do get rain - and that is okay since it keeps  the land green and fresh. You are introduced to your neighbours who were hibernating in the past 7 months, and with the now open windows, the sounds of birds and laughter of kids, along with some hammering noise or drilling noise is usual. This is the time to clean up your yard, fix up your backyard, your roof and all the things that you have postponed till the weather got friendlier . 

Considering, how short the warm weather lasts, it does seem very futile to complain about it, especially on days when it gets really hot. I have to admit that cranked up heat, cranks me up but with age I am learning to appreciate the change in seasons. The best part of summer is the freedom to step out anytime of the day . Here I am writing this blog late at night, sitting out on the patio, drifting my eyes time and again from the bright screen to admire the starry starry night. The limitless sky has always amazed me. The wonderous joy of standing under a clear dark sky, with stars staring down at you has always been one of my favorite ways to unwind. Every summer, we try and go to some place and just lie on the grass  counting the shooting stars. You are paradoxically reminded both of the insignficance of your presense as well as your stupendous luck in being a spectator in the display of nature's miracle. 

Of course we also have the mosquitoes, the flies and all the insects that come alive with the touch of heat. But then, there are also butterflies, and chirping of birds, and the cool beautiful nights.  You can sit on the deck for ages, breathe in the cool air, and listen to the rustling of leaves and far away traffic. Although ideally, my summer night would be spent on the oceanside falling asleep listening to the crashing waves and waking up to the same beat. My memories of Indian nights - especially summer nights when you got to sleep on the terrace and filled with beautiful One day - maybe. For now I am enjoying my freedom of keeping the doors and windows open, and letting the sounds filter through - some natural and some man-made, both equally loved. 

Made to order

On a Friday evening, after a tiring week, when I am greeted by flyers on the doorstep, I know for sure that my kids have managed to skip,  I dread to open the door, knowing fully well that kicked off shoes, peeled away socks and jackets that just happened to nap on the couch would be waiting to welcome me. Yes the kids are home. Soon the regular pattern of me yelling and whinning about how I do all the work in the house and  the boys retaliating " mom  you need to chill" will echo the house. In short, it was going to be just a regular ordinary day.

 After a lot of soul-searching and intense internal debate and to end the arguments, I finally caved in and admitted that I needed some hired help to manage the upkeep of my house. I had steadfastly been  resisting the temptation of someone else doing my chores. Firstly because it is not cheap, secondly I am pertrified of becoming habitual to  that what is supposed to be an ocassional treat. We are designed for comfort and what starts as an occassional  luxury, soon becomes a necessity.

I grew up  in an upper middle class family in India. Anyone who lives in the subcontinent will vouch for the fact that maids and servants are not considered luxury. I grew up with never having to do any chores, although my mom ensured that we made our own bed and had basic survival skills like cooking. Our clothes were hand-washed by someone, our dishes cleaned, floors swept and mopped, and so were the washrooms.   Basically, all the chores that you dread to do after coming from work, is done for you. Life is different over there and like my friends over there will attest it is an evil necessity. I concur - systems over there are not built for self-sufficiency . 21 years later, I still at times miss that luxury of just kicking back my shoes and doing nothing and yet there was this fear lurking that like an alcoholic falling off the wagon after a first sip, I would become accustomed to this luxury- and would not be able to go back to doing my own chores.

There is one thing common with people taking up cleaning jobs. They are comparatively easy money and many take up this secondary means of employment to supplement income to support their family or extended families back home. In Bahrain, we had male helpers  from India. I had to ask one of the helpers if his wife or family knew that he cleaned houses. The answer, not surprisingly, was an emphatetic no.They would be horrified -men in India are treated generally like kings and housework has traditionally been women's domain over there. Same with Anita, who already has a primary full time job, but cleans houses to support her mom back in Phillipines.  Her journey from Phillipines to Canada is a story for another time.

After a lot of dilly dallying on my part, we scheduled for Anita, to come in, Of course, I couldn't let her just come to a dirty house. So before she could start cleaning, I made sure that my house at least looked half decent, partly out of homeowners pride, and partly because she was still someone scoming ot my house for the first time. The moment I had committed to having her come over, I realized that maybe it wasn't the smartest of ideas. Maybe I wasn't ready for it yet and knew that for all my claims and fantasies about kicking back my shoes and relaxing while someone else did  the cleaning,I just wouldn't be able to see through it. So there I was, working as hard as her on my day off, dusting and scrubbing alongside with her and by the end of 4 hours, deadbeat. Together we did get lot of cleaning - deep cleaning done. The bliss of a clean house lasted for a few hours, and horrifyingly soon became replaced by shoes and socks strewn over, jackets on the couch... you get the picture. Basically a well lived house .

She is supposed to come in another 2 weeks   and although I am still debating over whether to give this another try, I know for sure, if I do cave in, I don't want to be home when she is here. I am going to play smart and leave the keys for her.  Ignorance is bliss - and I would rather just come home to a sparkling clean house than watch and participate in the process. 

Thoughts overload

“I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.” 
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground 

Decision making has never been easy for me. Inately I am a cautious person who likes to analyze, rationalize, fret, torment and go over all the possible scenarios that could go wrong with the options that  I have. I am a  thinker, actually  an overthinker. The word "over" does have a negative implication of doing things in excess and I am quite aware of it. There is a fine line between thinking and overthinking.If all the imaginary scenarios could play out in real life, we would have a twenty four  hour soap opera drama. Your thoughts, the silent chatter constantly nagging you, and at times entertaining, are your constant companions. There is the real life and then there is this life that you live in your head. I am not as crazy as I sound, but what is life without a tinge of craziness?

My head has got 100 channels playing at once, or more like some quick fingered person shuffling constantly with the channels. I could be discussing politics, and there will be a flash news in the head or more like alert warning with a message like : what to cook for dinner? In all the things thats fluid, this one question among many others are the only constants in my life.  Thoughts, talks, scenarios - oh all the active life that I live in my head. And like with everything else in life, this constant thought process, analysis of imaginary scenarios when spirals out of control can be inebirating.

Overthinking can paralyze you - the unlimited possibilities, the supposedly disastrous outcomes, the constant analyzing, leaves you drained and empty - actually not empty - but more like bloated with inconsequential   thoughts. Common sense and life experience has taught me that nothing is achieved by thinking, and there is no such thing as being prepared for life events.  Life strikes when you least expect it.

Recently I took a decision to change my jobs. It was a decison that I had been pandering on for more than two years. Yet when the time came to actually decide, it took me 3 days of intense introspection, consultation with friends and a couple of sleepless nights to realize that it was what I wanted. The scenarios ranged from what if I fall sick after I quit my job?  I won't be covered by disability insurance, to what if I suck at my job, to all sorts of scenarios that would make even the best thriller writers to shame.

I am a chronic worrier yet lately I have been feeling at peace with myself. The monologues in my head have been kinder and although  still harsh, the  rambling is more subdued and muffled . There are some perks of growing older, you know that time is of essence.There comes in your life, when you just learn to give in - not give up, but just accept what and who you are.I have accepted that there is no escape from my internal talks and to be fair, most of the time they do keep me good company, except when they sometimes feel they need to go for a run - and then it does get tiring just to keep up with them. 

Memories

“He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera.

Some memories are like a whiff of fragrance - they just float out of nowhere.  The trigger could be a song that is played randomly on radio, a sunset, or just a phrase, but it brings alive vivid poems buried in the years of monotony.Not all memories are pleasant, there are some that you resist to acknowledge.For me, my memories are what keep me rooted. There are times when I call my mom and hear the koyal signing in the background, or just the door bell ringing of the sound of some familiar laughter, and my heart skips a beat.

Yet, we choose our memories, and at times keep them alive. What is our life - if not a composite of glimpses of our lives, some collected consciously and some caught in the snares of our life. Some of laughter, some tears, some just snapshots of faces, and some of  views, some touches of breeze blowing your hair. Some glorious sunsets, some exasperating moments dealing with tantrums of kids, lots of hugs, nervous jitters , sleepless nights and some electrifying conversations  with friends.

For someone who is not in the least nostalgic, I do have my share of "Remember when this happened.." moments. While some memories come alive in company of friends, narrating a shared experience, some just sneak on you when you are alone, keeping you company. For some odd reason, the collage of events stored are not the most eventful one. I am not even sure how I can relive the warmth of sun on my skin on a particular day, years ago, or even the aroma of fresh baked bread feel more real than the birth of my kids. It is incomprehensible but true.  Actually when I think back, memories of my childhood and youth are more tangible than the later years. Maybe because it is the bygone era of innocence and simple joy or maybe because that it was something that reminds me of where and who I am. I don't have much recolletion of the supposedly big events in life. It is as if only the  trivia of my life has been stored by my malfunctioning brain. Or is it my coping mechanism?Maybe the simplicity of childhood and part of youth bring to the table something that is lost.

In the end we are only what we remember and how we remember it. And when we are no more, maybe we will live a little longer in the memories of others, hopefully bringing a smile on their lips when they think about us.

Pause

Pause. Everything in life from music to sentences, to nature has this blank space, this small period of nothingness that we call pause. Without pauses, there would be no music, no rhythm, no meaningful sentences, no paintings. We miss out the importance of this small space of "nothingness", unproductive time gap that makes our life meaningful. Blank spaces, pauses are as important if not more than the words that we fill it with.

Silences give meaning to our words, There is this crazy notion that if we are not busy enough, stressed enough, we are not living our life to the full potential. We wear our busyness as medals of productivity, our stress as our symbol of commitment.  Businesses are open longer, our work and home life have been blended by technology.  Easy credit, literally 24 hours access to  shopping, constant exposure to consumer advertising which catch us unawares, has created a generation who wants instant gratification. The concept of work life balance is slowly but steadily disappearing especially if you want to climb up the ladder. The incessant interaction with the world at digital level, the overload of information, real or fake, is making us lose touch with our real self.

There is need to be quiet.To just be . No headphones, no music...just silence. No social media,no electronics, just contemplation and meditation in the moment. Life is not just you breathing, it is being present in the moment to feel the breath. Sit under the sky, wait to see the shooting star, watch the moon glide gracefully through the night, watch the flowers falling off the trees. stop and listen to the stream, breathe and let the breeze carress your skin, in short, detoxify your being. We are part of something bigger than self and time and again we need to recognize that to keep our problems, our egos in the right prespective.
 Life is fleeting, moments are elusive. There is nothing to capture, just soak in the process of living.

Unshare your moments

Funeral worthy picture - a term that I discovered watching a comedy sitcom on TV. If you read the words carefully, basically what it means is the top rated picture, the one that you want people to remember you by. While there have been times when I have wondered about what photo would finally make it when I don't make it, updating pictures that are social media worthy predominates my mind. The photos are now rated as whether they are worth sharing on social media or just for being lost in the abyss of unwanted pictures

We live a world where our every action is recorded. All of us live in many ways like the stars of  reality shows. Our celebrations are recorded and shared, our disappointments and even our day to day trails and tribulations. But more than anything our victories, our so called achievements, be it in work, charity or our successful relationships, are what we flaunt the most. It is human nature and I am guilty of doing the same. Whether we like it or not, social media has just extrapolated our desire to be liked and admired.

In today's world of fake candid pictures, of pictures of travels and all things bragworthy, there is an urgent need to do things hidden in shadows. To consciously look at a picturesque view and not reach out for your camera, to celebrate an occasion without taking pictures, and also to declare your love for your dear ones in a more private setting, like in person or by calling. The need to demarcate private from public and also to understand that all we see on social media is as true as reading a book of fiction or watching a movie.

Humans are vain, we always were. I would be lying if I said that I am unaffected by how I am perceived by "my friends" on social media. So if it can affect someone like me, with a very high self-esteem, I wonder how it affects teens and pre-teens just trying to find their bearings. The pressure to fit in with your peers, to have a life as exciting as the pictures posted by your friend, to look as pretty and get as many likes as them, can be unnerving. I speak for I have a teenager and although there is nothing wrong with being on social media and following the trends, the fact that everything needs to be recordable is worrisome.. Kids need, adults need, to consciously resist the urge to share. To do good, to volunteer, to shower love and praise, without it being used as a tool for self-promotion. The need of the time is to bringing ourselves to be our authentic selves. The need of the times is for kids to learn that the world doesn't revolve around them and the likes or lack of it on social media can't define them,

Mid-Life Enlightment

Stubborn greys, weakening eyesight and an intolerance for idiots is how I know that I am reaching the mid point of my life or what others call middle age.  Not to mention  teeth that are self-destructive, memory that is fading and did I mention an attitude that seems more and more indifferent  about other people's opinions?

I hate the term middle-age. Youth is fine, even old is a bearable term, but middle-age is like you are someone who is old, but clinging to the lost glory of youth.It is youth on accelerated decay .  It is pathos personified. You can be graceful in your old age, accept that you are past your prime, but letting go of  your prime age, and shifting gears to being called a senior is not easy. And rightly so. We are geared to admire youth. The period between mid-forties to sixties is the treachorous zone. The in-betweens similar to teens or tweens . I would rather that we call ourselves mature adults or seasoned adults, seems more like we are in terms of our reality and somehow seems less deragatory than middle-age.

It starts with a few gray, it starts when you look into the mirror and notice fine lines where there were none. And the realization sets in when you meet people you haven't met in ages, people you knew in college, looking all "middle-aged". You go home, look at your pictures from 10 years ago and viola the enlightment sets in that it is that phase of the life again. The awkward phase. To dye or not to dye phase. To change your beauty routine to more "matured skin" cream phase. Don't even get me started on the effects on the body .

The changes are subtle. Even conversations shift from movies and books to more of what medication are you taking for hypertension to eating healthy. The first sign that you are past prime is when you are obsessed with health and regimes that make you younger. I find myself being more attracted towards articles titled  5 steps to younger skin articles,Foods that lower your blood pressure and what to do when you have a stroke. I resist to succumb to the attraction of just letting go. I resist not being relevant or being a"has been" . I resist talking about the good old days -and nothing personifies  the epic struggle to pull away from the magnetic attraction of youth more than  my attempts to still keep myself relevant in terms of pop-culture. I try but lately I have found that the effort is catching up with me. I am moving to the other side of the spectrum soon. Old age is winning this tug of war.

Then you have the mid-life crisis. The rebellious phase or maybe a  self-realization phase where you actually understand that when they said life was short, they really meant it. One fine morning it clicks that the life you had been leading so far,was more for others. You look back, some regrets, some satisfying proud moments, some sad and heart wrenching moments, you have been through it all. You are a survivor. You also start getting news of people you know or friends of people you know dropping dead. And it hits you. You are half-way there and you had better enjoy life on your terms, because you are not getting out alive. You are on this roller coaster going downhill, full speed. You have the choice, you can scream your lungs out and enjoy the ride or just wait in trepidition for the ride to be over. Mid-life crisis should be termed Mid-life enlightment. I find this to be the age of lost realization. I realize that my prime was spent in raising kids and taking care of the family, Not that I regret it, but it does seem like I have now woken up from a long slumber of building a family, and now that I am awake, I have in many ways no idea how to live life for myself. My body is not only past its prime, my mind is sort of lost too. The desire to discover who I am without the taglines of relationships, without labels is intense. And that is the gist of "crisis"

Now when I look in the mirror, I realize that this is probably the best I will look ever, at least the youngest I will ever be. I am learning to accept that even if middle age is messy and hormonal, even if it is ambigious in its scope, I am a mature adult,on the threshold to be  I actually admitted loudly what I knew long ago, that I couldn't compete with the youngsters. There I have admitted it.  

Romance and Love

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

There is love and then there is romance. Romance, the adventure of falling in love, the rollercoaster ride of emotions when you can feel the most intense pain when apart or ecstatic by just being in someones presence. It is that perfect world where, the love of one person will complete your life . Life is picture perfect. 

 I always presumed that I  was a logical person, and when you feed  a person who thinks, with pop romance churned by  Mills and Boons and Barbara Cartland you are inviting trouble. Idyliic love,perfect world are as dangerous to an impressionable mind as some drugs. Both promote unreasonable expectations, both lead to life of escapism and fantasy. I should know, for my adolescence was groomed by these books,and the search for the epic romance and the ever elusive Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester. The search for the perfect hero who would sweep me off my feet. One major  issue with these books is that they are all written to cater to the female audience and they led you to believe that just being you ,  enough for the right guy.So here I was, an impressionable teen, searching in this maze my perfect hero. Ofcourse the unmentional literature (?) that catered to adolescent male is now very obvious to my mature present self. 

 My concept of love hinged on falling in love at first sight, and swooning into the arms of my lover,  and living happily ever after in this land of magic where there was no room for practical day to day problems. Life was supposed to be perfect. All I needed was the right soulmate, who would magically find my flawed being perfect. Good luck finding someone being blind in love for ever. Love at that age had to mean more than what my parents shared. Caring and looking after each other, being kind and supporting sounded very boring to my imaginative mind. I wanted romance.I wanted the whole nine yards -flowers and poetry, and ofcourse  to be proclaimed as the centre of someone's universe. One aspect  about looking for the perfect Mills and Boon hero  was that I was never living in the real world to be in a real relation. Do I regret that my perception of love was screwed up, for lack of using a more befitting word? Yes, I do. But then that was me and that is still me. Idealistic and  someone using the crutches of imagination  as escapism.

So what is love, if not what is described in books and movies.I have realized over the years that love is what love does. You can fall in love, fall out of love, but to be in love with someone over the years requries patience, kindness and acceptance.Love comes with no guarantees. There is no happily after with both breezing through life in all smiles.   Love is accepting the person for who they are, yet supporting them to be the best version of themselves. Love is riding the waves together, supporting each other, Taking turns to be strong. To be able to cry freely, to share dreams, fears and feel safe. Love is trust. There can be no relationship without trust. Love is also that feeling that you sometimes have dig deep within , to feel loving towards your partner, when you don't feel loving. Love is patience and above all commitment. Commitment to love even in the most unloving moments. To be kinds when all you want to do is lash out. And  above all it is to forgive. You will need lots of it.  To be loyal, even in face of temptation. Love is not an helpless emotion, but an active choice. It might start as being effortless, but it is always a work in progress.

Contact

A mishmash of thoughts, directionless, waiting for the right words to give them a form. I am an unorganized person, thriving in it too, and so are my thoughts. It takes me twice the time than that of a  normal person to organize my file- to put the papers in right order and  as for my closets - and house, the less said the better. Yet there is a madness in the order. Just like the beautiful wild flowers growing- not color coordinated, but still not out of place.

As you grow older, and hopefully you get some insights into your being, you learn to accept the traits that will not change. I gave up trying to reduce weight, when I realized I have been trying to do so  albeit half-heartedly, for decades. You cross 40s and there is this freedom, freedom of just being who you are, warts, and quirks and all. I have changed, but I have given fighting who I am at an intrinsic level.

We are all defective- weird in our own small ways. And we seek companionship in people who will recognize us for what we really are. Someone, who can look through our broken beings, and accept us. There is no meaning to life without connections. Our purpose in life might be different, our values in life might differ, yet we need a human contact to make life real.

I am an extreme introvert, put me in a party and I am looking for escape routes - literally. Yet even for someone like me, a stimulating conversation, a warm smile and genuine concern is what makes my day. A good conversation - a spirited exchange of thoughts, of words leading to a stimulating discussion still gives me a high.  A perfect conversation is effortless and smooth. Your words are allowed to flow at the same pace as your thoughts. No pause, no boosters,  topics linked like the cars of a train - chugging at a rhythmic pace.  Some days the voices n my head get lonely, they want to be heard, to share. Life is too short to stay isolated. People, friends and adversaries, toxic and healthy make us what we are. Human beings need each other. We need to love and be loved. This need transcends all barriers, color, age, religion and this is our strength as well as our weakness as humans.