Arrived

The paradox of journeys and happily-ever-afters

Dear Reader,

It’s 6 AM. I’m standing at the open back door. The sky is an opaque grey and extends all the way down, obscuring the blue of the mountain that I can usually see from here. There is not much movement except for two squirrels running on the wire above and two small birds playing in the lush foliage of the persimmon tree. I’m sure if I squint I’ll see more birds, especially the tiny ones that can easily be mistaken for leaves, but for now, I just stand here, enjoying the heavy morning coolness of the summer day and my cup of morning tea. I remember reading somewhere that when you drink tea, the first notes you encounter when you take that initial taste, are called the head notes and these are followed by the main notes, called the body notes. I can taste notes of ginger, black pepper, the smallest pinch of cardamom, and brown sugar, and it makes the coolness outside more welcome.

Last week, during one of my journaling sessions, a peculiar awareness arrived out of nowhere. The feeling was so real, like a kind of stillness or satiety, one you feel inside your body. I put the pen down and cautiously leaned back in my chair, as though leaning into the feeling. It had a kind of generous give that felt both inviting and nourishing. I have experienced similar feelings during meditation, but not outside of it. And, accompanying this feeling was a sudden clarity. For a large part of my life, I’ve treated myself as something or someone that needs to be brought into fruition, a project or a person that will one day be complete. I’ve treated my whole person this way as well as in very specific areas of my life, and I’ve done it both with harsh urgency and with tender care. I’ve also allowed myself to be treated this way by others. Perhaps I thought I was a sculpture or a statue, or a grand painting, that I would uncover with a flourish and present to the world one day. Ta-da!

I think all of us practice self-improvement to varying extents. We talk about journeys and transformation, and there is always this mirage-like place called Happily-Ever-After. But there is a paradox in the need to change something about oneself for a better experience but without falling into the mindset there is something wrong with me that will one day be fixed once I have the… whatever. Ah, but I’m writing as if we have a choice in the matter. Our experiences, ordinary and traumatic, may lead us to conclude there’s something wrong with us that needs fixing.

For the very first time in my life, I felt the arrival of something different, a kind of safety and repletion within one’s body. It means, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am not busy and waiting to finish the project that is me. It feels strange and unreal, but I could really get used to this.

Dear Reader, I’d love to hear what you think.

Best,

Priya

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