Hold space, there is plenty.

I can’t really put a finger on it, but I have changed since the last time I posted on here.

I have become very comfortably whole, but in a rather porous way. What I mean is, I am not whole in the sense that I have no holes, and no space to accommodate the ebbs and flow of life. My earlier definition of whole used to be akin to that of a SOLVED Rubik’s cube. No need or space for change. Thoroughly well-defined, and really no scope for anymore human interaction to be involved in anymore. And then, somewhere along the way, I didn’t really feel like I wanted that anymore. I like my periodic ‘struggles’… they have helped me unearth aspects about myself that I never expected to learn. It has put me in positions that I hadn’t ever really fathomed, and it gave me a renewed sense of wonder. Sometimes, it did nothing for me, and I discovered that ‘nothing’ is not bad either!

‘Trust your struggle’ is a maxim I have come to accept over the past few years, sometimes grudgingly so. It’s become quite integral to my being now, and in the process, I have finally gotten a peek at the reality of ‘holding space’. Sometimes, life isn’t a project. Sometimes, even the most well-intentioned advice can be ill-timed. Sometimes, what you have to offer is not what the other needs, and other times it is not what they want. And that’s ok! It’s fine to step back and move forward with those connections that are felt strongly, and it is fine to loosen your grip on those connections that seem like they are slipping through your fingers.

I recently did something for someone with absolutely no expectations, and with genuine, uninhibited affection. It was liberating! It still is. I am in awe and curious, but I think I’ll just let this be this one time. I’m letting a flower be a flower; no need to pluck it. It’s already working its magic by just being. 🙂

She was beautiful.


She was beautiful.

Gracious host, warm of heart.

Too gentle to be envied, and loved in return.

She nurtured her kind and tended to them tenderly.

Her support is what brought out in him his purpose and its pursuit.

She spun a world of her own around her, shrouded in love and clouded by tranquillity-

Clouds that were caught in a tempest so severe and steady and unrelenting.

Such a fight was put up; a wall of hope on the nimble shoulders of affection.

It was a sight to behold, and took all those who watched in a wave of inspiration.

She was beautiful, and it could be seen cradled beneath her wrinkles and blemishes.

She was beautiful, and it could be seen in their eyes that brimmed with fondness.

But her silent courage, even as she carped, it shone through.

Her fight against living hell, for life itself.

For this, she is beauty.