There hasn't been any blogging lately, just thinking. There hasn't been any blogging lately, just observations. There hasn't any been blogging lately, just silent spaces.
Not silenced spaces, just silent ones. And that is okay, it's all fine.
It's a busy time with lots to do. I can do either this or that. I need the limited cache of mental energy to get through days and to focus on simple life sustaining tasks such as safe driving, making meals and breathing. How did it get to be this way?
I suppose taking risks does that. I reach out of a dysconscious phase of "chalta hai", "laissez faire" or " it will forever be this way". So called well wishers warned me "Watch out, you're sticking your neck out, little turtle. They'll come after you".
I didn't listen, I don't listen. I have had my shell hammered on so many times over the past decade that I am bruised and battered inside. I decide that I must poke my head out and do what needs to be done. I am a tortoise, and no one expects me to win against the hare: fast, glib and oh-so-reputable. Everyone knows she can run fast, everyone knows she'll get there.
In fact they expect her to make it to the finish line every time. Not some turtle who can't even walk on ice. The hare has many friends and lots of charm. And I am the tortoise, who slips back into my shell often, so social chatter for me, I just don't know how to hold a wide audience in the palm of my hand.
Yet with my bruised self wrapped inside the shell that is scratched from all those hard knocks, I decide I am going to try this to run this race.
And I do. And they were right. They did come for me. They still do. They watch my every move, I am not imagining it. Come visit, you'll know what I mean.
Yet, I am fine. I am not afraid, I am not hesitant. The children are okay. That's all that matters.
And this silence is special, because it is percolating and processing the stimuli. If you know me at all, and if you know where I've been and can guess one twist in the journey, you will rejoice too, as I do.
For wrapped in this silence is a voice: strong and shining.
I continue to speak in different ways: sometimes mind maps, sometimes posters, sometimes hashtags, sometimes tweets, sometimes recipes- they are all texts.
My denim jacket is a text too. You just need the courage to read it.
So here's to eating my pancakes with chutney...
And that is another story for another time.
One button on my jacket says: Well behaved tortoises seldom make history.
