Writing – a Journey of my Life

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Photo Credit : Manish Doshi

I have returned from my break absolutely inspired and pregnant with messages from the ocean and the sky. I am very eager to share them with you all, yet I am feeling uninspired to go through the process of making it into a post immediately. As if I want to steep in the experience a bit more and have the juices of the interaction with the ocean flow through my veins as if all mine. The message to become part of my Being. I can’t wait to get past this stage, pick it up from where I left off in my last post, before this deliciousness set in. I am giving myself permission to indulge in this space for a bit more.

I do want to have this following conversation with You.

How I became a writer is sort of an astonishing accident to me. I remember where I was and exactly the moment some words came to me and I was ‘forced’ to have those words typed. What came as completed looked like a poem to me. I was thrilled and absolutely scared at the same time. And more came and one more came. I was terrified. I sent them one by one to trusted friends, asked them if the words meant anything to them. I was so accustomed to living the surface level life (read turmoil) that this expression from the depth of my being felt alien to me.

It took me tremendous courage to begin sharing them publicly, as if baring my soul naked to be judged or accepted. I needed the kind approval from a trusted friend and sometimes my husband to hold my hand while I hit publish with the other. My heart raced a thousand miles an hour before the first like, the first kind comment came in, as a seal of approval for my eligibility to continue being whatever I was in this world of existence.

After each poem I often thought surely it was the last one, and looking around I always wondered where is this coming from? I just became insanely uncomfortable at times as if choking on words or tears and then it just became necessary to type all that needed to come. Often I typed words I did not know, looked up its meaning to find out it meant exactly what I needed it to mean and rhyme in the poem. Sometimes I made up words not in the dictionary, and they conveyed the right meaning. As some generous reflections and appreciation came as responses, I was utterly grateful as I was sure every time it was my last poem. The authentic exchange of perspectives and heartfelt interactions helped me thrive, grow, flourish and nourish my being.  In less than 6 months on WordPress I was amazed beyond measure at how a genuine word, true expression and pure intent becomes evident through words alone.

It got unstoppable. The poems, the prose, all came as these intense surges just wanting a place to land. I made a commitment to keep reading other writers because of what gift it was when they read me. Each one putting their attention and time on my work had my deepest gratitude that I earnestly conveyed through truthful response to their comments. I was able to post way less than I was writing personally. Drafts and drafts of different inspirations and topics that begged to be expressed have piled up to be published in some form or the other.

For almost 3 years now I have published 2 or 3 times a week, except about 3 breaks of a week to 3 weeks. Every single day reading other writers on different platforms and interacting through comments. The numeric growth of my blog followers and readers has been very slow compared to some others but my personal growth has been enormously satisfactory.

Until some months ago, I did not have mind space for adding pictures to my posts.  Slowly it started dawning on me that there were pictures taken by my photographer friends and those by my husband that spoke the words I wrote. None are ever clicked with a plan to go with my post. It is meditative and miraculous to me in how perfectly they choose to come together.

The emotional intensity from which my poems came have found a balance, my personality has changed quite a bit. I opened up to new strengths in my being. I have owned myself as a writer by now. I am going through a huge personal shift. I still have countless drafts and some unpublished poems and ideas for creating quote images. I feel immersed in this space of inspiration where I am soaking in some new energies and do not seem to have the mind space, energy and time to publish all that I know is waiting to be published. If you recognize this and have any advice for me, I am all ears. And if my sharing has helped you in any way then it is my privilege to be a channel that serves a purpose.

None of this was possible for me without You my friend. You know what you have done for me by being here for me and reading my words and responding. My utmost gratitude for that and our continued interactions and conversations.

 

Related posts :
Just how did the writer in me get born? – I realized that this poem had come through me exactly an year ago and today I have felt this strong urge to post on similar topic.
Top writer in Inspiration – prose

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Express Yourself Truly

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Photo Credit : Atanu Chakraborty “You Talk too Much”

You Talk Too Much
This is what they said to me

I didn’t know what to do about it
Until I realized after long

I was expressing wrongly
In all places wrong

I became a writer
Expressing from my heart exactly

You Don’t Talk To Me Much Now
This is what they say to me now

What if poetry never comes through me again?

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Photo Credit: Manish Doshi “Silent Question Answered”

It is as if recess time
A much needed respite
From my soul unrelentingly crying

It is as if an unknown strength
A much needed insight
From my heart soothingly sighing

It is as if I am not up for any play
A much needed friend divine
From times eternal shows up on my way

It is as if I am unshakably yet softly still
A much needed deep breath
From the juice of life helps me feel

It is as if I am looking for something
A much needed sense of contentment
From the clarified mind shows I have everything

It is as if I feel whole yet miss something
A much needed inspired poetry
From the churning of emotions, I reminisce

It is as if I fear words might never now rhyme
A much needed equilibrium achieved
From the turmoils of expectant time

It is as if I forage for disappointment
A much needed depth of mind diving
From the surface of a world striving

It is as if I need some intense emotion
A much needed transport vehicle
From the randomness to the magical

It is as if now I get it
A much needed realization
From the wanting to churn a poetry
To just Being with no drama of emotion

So what if never again my words rhyme
I am willing to be reborn that way
To just watch what else happens in this lifetime

 

P.S. This poem is a contribution to ForgivingFridays of ForgivingConnects. This blog by Debbie Roth has truly helped me find forgiveness for any judgment I hold towards myself, every single time I read her heartfelt posts.

Life & Its Flow

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Photo Credit : Vikram Phale

Life and its flow
Seems sometimes so very slow

Life and its frailty
Seems sometimes so much vulnerability

Life and its fond fantasy
Seems to come with so much expectancy

Life and its fierceness
Seems to carve through as if merciless

Life and its seeds we sow
Seems they take own sweet time to grow

Life and its moments
Seems we always need to augment

Life and its juiciness
Seems to come with no exactness

Truly relish, cherish, nourish
In each moment simply perish

Allow each new moment to flourish
Simply living unbelievably merrylish

 

Ablaze with Truth

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‘ABLAZE’  – Photo by Manish Doshi

 

It is a visceral feeling.
The emotion of anger.
It feels like an old one. It is so physical as if ablaze.
That block, the lead block right on the core of my heart, it is heavily burrowing down. Into the deep abyss of my being.
Get it offf now!

I am angry. I am angry about smiling through it all …all these years.
I am angry that I had such positivity. ..all these years.
I am angry I had so much love and the need for love in me that I overlooked and even enjoyed this same thing.
I am angry that I wasn’t angry the first time this happened.

I am speaking the truth regarding this for the first time.
The truth that I had no idea of. The truth that was buried deep down to fulfill my other needs.
That’s it.
It has been my choice all along. To smile through it. To keep finding what is right in it. To hold it in my pot of love.

Today it is me who has changed.
It is me who has become aware of my hidden truth.

I am actually ablaze with this revelation.
With no skill whatsoever to contain it and express it, it has come as anger.

It is still visceral …yet it has changed.
The blaze has softened. I have finally seen it and honored it for what it is.
The iron block on my heart, still there.
It is so much of grief and guilt over my unskilled expression of my truth.
My assumption that it is wrong to feel this anger. That it is wrong to feel this bad, about something I accepted as normal, all my life.

Awakening to my own truth and suddenly choosing it and living it, is a very raw experience.
As if a rebirth into another person.
Definitely an unexpected guest, often an unpleasant one, in the lives of those accustomed to my smiling through it.
I decide to accept my anger for what it is.
I give myself permission to feel the human emotion of anger.

It came as a visceral wave of awakening and it has passed.
I am left with this heavy brick on my heart
I pour love for myself. Hold myself with compassion.

It is amazing to physically feel the brick soften.
And now melt and diffuse.
I feel space. I feel a soft strength.
There is a freshness in the way of my being.
There is a quiet quiet space of being.
Soothing and healing and forgiving.
I will stay immersed in this silence today.

 

P.S. This post is a contribution to ForgivingFridays of dear blogger Debbie. My wish is of self healing and forgiving through the process of becoming aware of our own Truth.

This post was originally published at This Glorious Mess on Medium

Just how did the writer in me get born?

When drippings from a touched soul find their way in writing
A poet is born

When the beauty is undying and the joy so fulfilling
A poem is born

When feelings are heart wrenching and clarity is killing
A poem is born

When a surge comes as discomfort and words pour out
A writer is born

When the harmony felt is such that there is no choice but rhyme
A poem is born

When made-up words bring meaning and no-rhyme verse feels musical
A poetry is born

When living alive to feelings, words come to life
A writer is born

When clarity becomes more intense than the pain that afforded it
A writer is born

When no human around can suffice to contain the expression
A poetry is born

When a release is looking to flow out at an unearthly hour
A writer is born

When words choose the person as if a channel
A writer is born

When none can be planned to rhyme or reason
A poet is born

When human spirit gets broken to million-times-ten pieces, yet finds beauty
A poet is born

When Life decides to peel back layers of truth down to the core
A writer is born

When each level of façade is stripped down to bare soul
A writer is born

When all the suffering was a gift, lived through or let through
A writer is born

When there is no knowing if there is more from where it came from
A writer is reborn

When it comes from a place that is hard to own
A writer is born

When the essence of being is wrung out in best expression
A poetry is born

When it feels like a soft glove over the brutal thing
A poetry is born

When the loneliness in truthfulness is more than can enjoy yet
A writer is born

When inspirations come out of nowhere as if universal cues
A poet is born

Every story a writer writes may not be the writer’s story
But then the writer lives within herself
A thousand lives or the stories of lifetimes
Often that of all of humankind

So if you can just rest
In the drippings of the writers’s soul
Momentarily let go off the sufferings you insist on
A writer would feel content for being born.

Show up with your gifts

If you think that you know someone who flaunts
Step back and see what is it that daunts
If all of us wholeheartedly express
All that we tend to repress
Show up with all the best we have
Anything that helps feel bold and suave

Imagine what a world it would be
If each one is an inspiration to thee
There’s no worry of guard against envy
We carve our existence through
Expressions of joy, material and divine too

Take time to retreat within and cultivate
That which is hidden and you can create
Look at other’s gifts as deserved to them
Our gift is our love at helm

Each one can now parade on this stage
We are the performers
We are the audience of all age
No one to flaunt
No one to daunt
Our world is ours to create …