Run your own race

I was just settling down into my run, when a bunch of runners overtook me. They were all wearing tee-shirts of the Comrades Marathon- arguably the greatest ultra-marathon in the world.

They were faster than I was, but not too much. I was tempted to speed up and match their pace. To prove to myself that I could be as good as them. But sooner than the idea surfaced, I squashed it.

They were running their run, I was running mine. There was no need to compete, because the only reason we run is for ourselves. True about life itself. 

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

Process the books with maturity

Many years back, I told a woman at a bookstore that the Harry Potter books dealt with themes that her 12 year old might not be able to handle. Those words came back to haunt me when my older one started reading the series around the time he turned nine. And now, my seven and a half year old has picked up the first book.

For awhile, I contemplated taking the book away from him, but when did banning achieve anything more than igniting curiosity?

The only thing I can do is to help him process the books with maturity.

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

Baking bread

Some things you deem impossible. But even applying the term "impossible" tacitly implies you thought about doing it, before deciding you couldn’t. Baking my own bread was something that didn’t even merit the tag “impossible”, because bread was something you ‘bought’, not ‘made’.

But fate always has other plans for you. I picked up what I thought was a packet of baking powder, and realized it was yeast only after paying for it. I could have taken it back, but chose to use it instead.

Let’s just say I have a long way to go, but I will get there.

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

Fear of the Unknown

It was been a fortnight since we had moved into our new house, and I knew I had to restart my running. But, when the alarm went off, I could think of a dozen reasons to press the snooze button. It all boiled down to just one thing- Fear. Fear that I might not find a new running route. Fear that I might not settle down in the new place. Fear of the Unknown.

I got up. Because when there is fear, you have to tackle it head-on. Fear is a coward- it runs away when you stand upto it.

“Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent
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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

They thrive on neglect

When we moved homes, I had dozens to things on my head. Get the school bus sorted out. Ensure the carpenter finishes all the jobs before leaving. Find someone to deliver milk and newspapers. Sort through the junk accumulated over years, and keep only what you need. What didn’t figure on my list was watering the plants. Tomorrow I’ll water them, I resolved every night- that tomorrow never came. The plants wilted, but they waited for me. And when I started watering them, they perked up and rewarded me with new leaves.

Plants are funny. Sometimes, they thrive on neglect.

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

Making time for coffee

The aroma of freshly brewing coffee fills the house. I am transported back to another world- a life of deadlines, a time when coffee coursed through the veins instead of blood, a world defined by pie charts and excel spreadsheets. I have left that world far behind. But stealing time to savour coffee still seems like a crime- it’s purpose, after all, is to keep you going.

There are a hundred chores to be finished. But I defiantly sit down with a mug of steaming hot coffee, and tackle the Sudoku. If we don’t make time for ourselves, who will? 

 

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

...they should stay the way they are....

More than once, in the last five months, I’ve had ideas flit across my mind. Thoughts that I have chased with a butterfly net, striving to capture them. But when it came to it, I didn’t, or maybe I couldn’t. I’ve reached a point, where I am almost convinced I have lost the ability to pin ideas down as words. Then what am I doing signing up for NaBloWriMo? How do I expect to do one post a day for an entire month? But this is my fifth year, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to break with tradition.

“Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.