I am battle weary.
The past few weeks have been testy on a few fronts, and it’s taken a steely resolve and energy to face the days that have been.
There’s nothing more I want now than to be looked after. I want to leave the thinking, the planning, the problem solving to someone else for some time, while I rest and replenish my fuel reserves.
The biggest, most important lesson of this time has been learning what an utter gift it is to lean on loved ones for support. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is to admit you are scared.
Be vulnerable, ask your people for help and watch in grateful awe as your community rallies around you with love, good cheer and solutions to at least half your problems. The other half of your problems were only in your head anyway.
Perhaps sensing the dark clouds looming over my head, a dear friend gave me this much-needed writing prompt in an email crammed with beautiful things.
“Things that are light,” is all she said about the prompt.
I broke into a smile because her prompt made me think of light things right away. Things that I have learned to especially seek out on dense, heavy days to make them just that wee bit softer and lighter. Things that remind me that I am alive and need to focus on living well, despite everything.
Light things have a magic about them. And although they may seem a mere respite from the serious business of making a life, light things are what we really live for.
In no particular order, these are the things that make the hard days go lightly for me -
The sudden appearance of a friendly cat in the street that wants to nuzzle at your ankles and say hello for a minute before going on its way.
The kindness of strangers stopping to give you directions.
A warm, fleeting connection shared with a passer by as you both catch each other gazing at an adorable pup-in-training with his human on the street.
A warm, definitely-not-fleeting connection with a new friend that feels like you have known each other for years and not a few weeks.
The sudden, wild laughter of children.
The sight of cloudless, cerulean skies and feeling the sun’s warmth on your face on cold days.
My aloe vera plant that blooms a lone, fiery orange flower without fail every June.
The surprising and sweet realisation that I have managed to keep this succulent alive and and well (mostly) for the last five years.
Watching the tui feasting on the aloe vera nectar at daybreak.
The anticipation and excitement that builds up at the thought of your parents visiting you together for the first time in your chosen home in a few months.
The first sight of crimson pōhutukawa blooms that herald the arrival of the Southern Hemisphere summer in December.
Leafing through a favourite, dog-eared book for the 100th time for comfort.
Piping hot chai and a crispy masala dosa at the Sunday market.
A weekend walk through the Botanic gardens in Wellington, listening to a stirring rendition of Raag Bihag by Ashwini Bhide Deshpande. It’s a wonderful way in which the two cultures of my hyphenated identity come together.
Icecream. Any day is a good day for icecream.
What are your light things?
Things that are light - an essay by Sai, a stolen moment to comment on it, being read by a friend thousands of miles away... smiling at the serendipity 💜
My light thing - i get vicariously cheerful out of seeing people greet each in the mornings on our streets. It's never the same later on in the day. 6-8 am is peak hours for our morning cheer :)