Not too long ago I was big and awkward in a passerby's-delight sort of way. The delight continues to be, except that it is Swadha now. Kindness, gentle smiles and encouraging glances from people not known to me make me happily weepy and my emotional oscillations are conveniently pouched within "it's the hormones".
"I am not convinced about the linearity of time. Sure, it is easier to math with when it is straight and comprehensible. It seems to me that there is a sub-particle-level affinity between time molecules, that they bunch up around some experiences and drift apart around some others. I was in the middle of untangling a handful of thoughts and all too suddenly was filled with a disquiet that moments have been passing too quickly. How do I keep a tiny piece of now, of this day, of this week. I do not want to enshrine anything, nor make a museum of memories for occasional visits..."
I had written these sentences as part of an unfinished post when Swadha would send movements of varying intensities at various times in the day for me to know she was there and she was coming. I had been overwhelmed by the fear of being too busy to allow myself to fully experience her in a way that was mine and mine alone. In retrospect, perhaps, I have been too busy to have savored the joy or too burdened by the physical exactingness of the process to find the mind space. Then again, the act of retrospection itself is often an exaggeratedly romanticized version of what was.
Swadha is just shy of four months; my island of happiness in midst of all that is physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting; being a mother being one of them. I find myself going back to and rediscovering sound snippets I held dear as a young person. We share the joy of listening to them together through smiles and on some occasions with a gleeful chortle. There is so much beauty and truth in the time one gets to spend around little children and one should be so lucky to be able to witness the blossoming of an infant into a person.
Thank you, universe.
"I am not convinced about the linearity of time. Sure, it is easier to math with when it is straight and comprehensible. It seems to me that there is a sub-particle-level affinity between time molecules, that they bunch up around some experiences and drift apart around some others. I was in the middle of untangling a handful of thoughts and all too suddenly was filled with a disquiet that moments have been passing too quickly. How do I keep a tiny piece of now, of this day, of this week. I do not want to enshrine anything, nor make a museum of memories for occasional visits..."
I had written these sentences as part of an unfinished post when Swadha would send movements of varying intensities at various times in the day for me to know she was there and she was coming. I had been overwhelmed by the fear of being too busy to allow myself to fully experience her in a way that was mine and mine alone. In retrospect, perhaps, I have been too busy to have savored the joy or too burdened by the physical exactingness of the process to find the mind space. Then again, the act of retrospection itself is often an exaggeratedly romanticized version of what was.
Swadha is just shy of four months; my island of happiness in midst of all that is physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting; being a mother being one of them. I find myself going back to and rediscovering sound snippets I held dear as a young person. We share the joy of listening to them together through smiles and on some occasions with a gleeful chortle. There is so much beauty and truth in the time one gets to spend around little children and one should be so lucky to be able to witness the blossoming of an infant into a person.
Thank you, universe.
