It feels like I've lost quite a bit of momentum with writing since my trip, and my thoughts haven't begged to be channeled out yet, which I find... unsettling. I'm used to having that need and urge, to... be verbose, and rant on. But maybe it's the maturity and perspective slowly asserting their restraint on my overall person. I have been feeling... fairly contained. Perhaps it's a wonderful reflection of the amount of healing that I've done for my person, and the amount of equanimity and peace I have won, insya Allah.

My thoughts still swirl around, and typically, I still have the habitual I-should-blog-about-that moments; or ideas and reflections that I think should be penned down. But... I don't know. I feel a little different these days.



I did have a dream this week though, that stayed with me. In this dream, over repeated scenarios, I was arguing and desperately trying to bring my point across and convince people of something. I was using words, and debate -- it might have been a courtroom, or a lecture hall at one point. And there were several ladies that were quite mean and condescending, and I felt so angry and oppressed, and feeling very much the futility of my efforts in trying to win the case (whatever it was). At one point, I had got so upset, I was about to cry in front of them, and resort to saying how horrible they were -- but the scene had moved on to my picking up pieces of glass off the floor. The glass pieces seemed to symbolise whatever it was that I was trying to fight for. My dream self had decided that the arguing was pointless and maybe I could do something with those pieces instead. And I remember a couple of friends helping me to pick up the pieces. One friend was someone thoroughly familiar, but the other person who was just diligently picking up the pieces (despite my protesting her help) was someone fairly unexpected and I was surprised when I looked back on the dream, that she had appeared there.

But after a while, it did make sense that she was there. She was one of those people who I'd always thought was more doer than talker; someone I admired who was quietly observant, and would make her point, by being, instead of proposing or talking. And that's what I think my psyche has been trying to move towards. I feel like, it's the natural conclusion for me now, to stop fighting and being somewhat resentful of perceived stupidity or injustice or overall block-headedness in my environment. Instead, just do. Be the change you want to see. A cliche by Gandhi, but it's true isn't it.

The lamenting and the incessant complaining and the theorizing and abstractly figuring things out I've been doing for years (throughout my twenties and perhaps earlier) and being just appalled with the way the world is in many spaces (rightly or not) -- I'm moving on from that now. One can go blue in the face trying to convince people to change their minds about things. I'm done being angry, I think. I hope. Things don't change when you try to convince people of them. You just do them instead. Or you live it.

I'm taking on this motto for my life now:
see something that needs to be worked on? Work on it.
Don't be angry with people; be kind.




If we're going to make true belonging a daily practice in our lives, we're going to need a strong back and a soft front. We'll need both courage and vulnerability as we abandon the certainty and safety of our ideological bunkers and head off into the wilderness.

True belonging is, however, more than strong back and soft front. Once we've found the courage to stand alone, to say what we believe and do what we feel is right despite the criticism and fear, we may leave the wilderness, but the wild has marked our heart. That doesn't mean the wilderness is no longer difficult, it means that once we've braved it on our own, we will be painfully aware of our choices moving forward. We can spend our entire life betraying ourself and choose fitting in over standing alone. But once we've stood up for ourself and our beliefs, the bar is higher. A wild heart fights fitting in and grieves betrayal.

...

A wild heart is awake to the pain in the world, but does not diminish its own pain.
A wild heart can beat with gratitude and lean in to pure joy without denying the struggle in the world.
We hold that tension with the spirit of the wilderness.
It's not always easy or comfortable - sometimes we struggle with the weight of the pull -
but what makes it possible is a front made of love and a back built of courage.

~ Braving The Wilderness, by Brene Brown

i'm back!

It's probably strange to open this post about my trip to Japan

with a picture of this cup, but I feel it is very much apt.

This cup was purchased on the day we were in Matsumoto, on the journey back to Tokyo,

after the wonderful few days we had in the Hida Mountains.

Matsumoto (Central Japan), turns out to be quite a city of the arts; for one, it was the birthplace of the famous artist Yayoi Kusama. The museum housed much of her history and works. One of their famous shopping streets too had countless crafts on sale; pottery was one of them. After browsing a cute shop full of handmade pottery, I felt like I needed to get something (partly cause we felt bad browsing endlessly and not buying anything) -- and in retrospect, I'm so glad I got the above cup. It's simple, but beautiful, and one of a kind. And there's something about it that reminds me of that essence of Japanese culture that I so admire -- an appreciation and a cherishing of objects and nature. It's not like I hadn't known it before, but it struck me more this time: how much respect these people have for things, and how that translates to respect for human beings and for the environment. Like this cup, most things are so well-made, well-thought out, and gently and quietly cherished; and it inspires one to respect the object and the maker. I absolutely love this cup now, and I'll always remember the quiet shop E and I tiptoed around in, for fear we might crash and break things; and the cute old lady, who quietly smiling, wrapped up my cup in paper and bubble wrap.

I love that about Japan; their quiet politeness and gentleness, and respect for things. All things. E and I talked much about how wonderful their recycling culture is -- when you finish at Starbucks (which of course we did more than once! gorgeous Starbucks too; this one here was a wooden warehouse building all on its own, in Hakodate, Hokkaido), you need to sort out all your trash into the correct bins: liquid and food waste separate, plastics down another chute, paper in yet another space. The spaces designated for all things, make you aware of how you treat your own space, and other people, and things -- I love how shoes are always neatly arranged for instance, no matter where. At one point, someone anonymous (likely a random guide), had arranged our shoes while we were blithely exploring a no-footwear museum space, and we were fairly horrified, and subsequently attempted to always arrange our shoes when we took them off. I've taken to arranging all footwear in my house in this manner, haha.

Ganbatte, S! to striving to continue to grow in respect and gratitude, toward all things, places, and peoples in this world. I came home even more psyched to continue to konmari and clean up my space.

I had said that I wanted to replenish my self by resting with beautiful things;

and I certainly got that.

I really, really, really loved the Hida mountains;

there was nothing short of splendour there:

loved the autumn trees,

the quiet majestic mountains,

the clear rivers.

The water was so spectacularly clean and sometimes an amazing blue,

I can't even -- (I want to burst with awe)

and the fact that we stayed a few nights in isolated ryokans in the mountains,

accorded us some of that quiet isolation we wanted with nature.

 The day we were in Kamikochi was amazing (and freezing cold, hahaha).

We were walking by this river, and when we had walked a fair bit, it became quiet,

because most people didn't seem to venture that far;

the place was a camping ground (we spotted a few tents).

The view was spectacular.

I couldn't believe we were just there on our own, trekking around;

it was so beautiful. And peaceful. I've decided I will be back some day.

And the yellow autumn trees! were everywhere.

I could indulge in my love for yellow; 

people have said I looked good in yellow, hehe.

not sure how to end this post,

but maybe with a series of ridiculously pretty and beautiful things.

even our food is so prettily laid out:

Shirakawa-go was basically like a fairytale place.

You can easily imagine Little Red Riding Hood walking by,

picking flowers.

and more of the beautiful trees and mountains:

(zero filters for all my pictures here;

they needed none.)

Thank You God for such beauty.