I haven’t been much of a writer. I have always wanted to write, and have given it a lot of thought, also come close quite a few times to start small, but haven’t really applied myself to it. Maybe it stems from some form of fear ? Fear of being judged by others ; fear of judging myself ; fear of facing my own fears ; fear of realising the questions to which I don’t think I would have the answers to ? Basically, fear. Apprehension. Mental blocks, you can term it whatever you find appropriate, but the end result is basically nothing.
But then again, sketching / drawing / painting, has always been on the opposite end of this spectrum. It is my most natural and preferred state. It has always been able to comfort me, let me escape into its vast nothingness and provide me with much needed solitude..
And there were times where I just didn’t want to sketch or paint. I would force myself to go apply myself to pen and paper, but soon, I started to despise it. This hit me hard. Really hard. How could something which was so innate and intrinsic to my being, evolve to be saturating and frustrating ? If this could derail me, then what else could get me back? How long would this last? What can I do to break out from this lull?
Slowly, creepily, like a cold breeze which enters through a tiny gap under a warm blanket, it started to make me uncomfortable. How muchever I tried to cover the gap, there was no shroud from the chill..It was in the bones now..
Going to the mountains seemed like a good break from all this. Official leaves were applied for, got sanctioned(albeit some official drama) and tickets got booked! A month in the Himalayas! All for myself. Just me and the mountains!
Even though I would have loved to schedule the break, to make sure that I was being productive each day ( as with my previous vacations) I decided that this time that I would let things be..let them take their natural course. Allow days to pass by me.
Rewire my mental clock to notice the passing of a day and night, instead of counting the seconds and minutes I have lost.
And..I didnt do anything for quite a few days. Absolute zilch.
As the days passed, and time was only defined by sunrises and sunsets, there was a certain calmness which filled me. Still. Tranquil. No undercurrents, no ripples.
With this tranquility, I started to observe more, being curious again. And then one day, I just felt like painting again. Like I really really wanted to. And what I really wanted to paint , was the birds I had been seeing all around me. Their beautiful plumage, the differently shaped beaks, their varied colours, the wing patterns..I wish I could say that this was some form of a deep realisation, or some long time calling which was answered, but no. I saw these beautiful birds chirping amidst the trees, jumping from bushes to wires, and I just wanted to paint them. Simply, because I wanted to.
And I just gave into it. This was my very first time painting birds, and all I know is that this made me happy. Really happy. And, maybe I will make more of these, maybe this can be another project, maybe it could be a collaborative project with another artist? Who knows. Those tangential thoughts are for another day. At this point, painting birds makes me happy, provides me a sense of tranquility, and I am going to take this feeling and run with it.
At this point, I feel like even giving myself this leeway to explore this side, has brought me happiness. And isnt that what ‘the chase’ is all about ? Being happy ? Knowing that stepping out of my comfort zone is all about being curious, opening myself to new learning, which currently brings me a sense of peace. This is all I want to do now. Paint for myself, because it makes me happy. Start writing because I want to. Going back to playing the keyboard, because I feel like learning.
Oh, and I just realised that from not writing much, I have actually ended up here writing all the above 🙂