Life Itself

A year of firsts. A year of lasts.  I am certain I am not the only one who will look back at this year with all kinds of contrarian emotions and crazy memories. But I have to capture it for myself. For Rumi. For everyone that has let me go so gracefully, and for everyone that has embraced the new me.  What started as a year on a vacation to Thailand with some of my favourite people in the world, ends as a year on vacation, waiting for my latest favourite to arrive in the world.  If I look back at my life and point out pivotal years, this one will definitely stand out and perhaps win number one position.  Back in March as I came back from visiting the husband in Vancouver, the world was quickly tumbling into a very scary place. Within a few days of being back at work I quickly transitioned the team to working from home. It struck me as odd that most people around weren’t taking Covid seriously. I remember writing to a few hundred people - entrepreneurs and those in pl...

Smudges of memories  Hidden in crevices A blue sofa, white bookcase Merging - our colored vices The drawer offers up a note If you look close enough  A perfumed letter, a sensual poem Memories casually stuffed Where the paint smudges  Where the door cracks  Each - a story bursting If you can see beyond the black From Bondi, Colombo, Vienna Each charm depicting stages, Can you hold that gentle breeze And feel it turn your pages? Fall in love with a story But only through a glimpse See us, as we see us In Kindle sepia and wine rims

But it took a while Didn't it? To hear your own silence To feel that which you had numbed And here you are Face to face With that which scares you With every pretense removed You spent all your reserves To hide your light You hid so well You forgot you were hiding Then suddenly, slowly All those cracks opened up The wounds were fresh again Breathe, breathe, breathe. Who are you now with all the roughness gone with all your defenses lost who are you now The questions knock endlessly as you stand right there Unable to move, unwilling to move swayed by nothing. Who told that tiny girl That pain was bad Who told her that hurt should be given away Who told her forever can't be had? You spent years thinking love was to be written up Unspoken, unfelt, unheard you didn't let love in or out And now what? Now where do you go? Who will you be now that you can be anything?

I started this tradition for the year 2010 ,  a whole decade ago. To take a moment to reflect on the year gone by and capture everything that touched me, moved me, made me. In 2014 , I wrote, "This is post number 4 in my series of year-end posts. 20 year old me would have never imagined that I could actually carry on a tradition for four years in a row. Turns out, I can." That was the last year I wrote a year-end post. Until today. Ironies. I love it when this happens. What happened in 2014, 2015, 2016? What did I not capture about meeting Lohit, our journey of deciding to get married, our marriage, setting up home, and all the other firsts and seconds and thirds that happened to us in those years?  In retrospect, I missed out on such profound opportunities of acknowledging growth, of recognizing limitations, of accepting things as they are.  But 2019 has flipped everything on its head. In some ways, where I am today is a culmination of ...