{nerves}

I have not met many people who trigger my anxiety to the extent that you do. This is why connecting with you is both so challenging, and so rewarding too.

Over the years, I have lost much of the desire to gain people’s approvals. It matters little to me whether someone I barely know or even dislike, likes me. There are so few people I genuinely like, whose presence I deeply crave in my life, whose connection I desperately seek more of. I cannot be anxious about pleasing those who do not bring me pleasure.

But you? You and your generous heart, considerate behaviours, humble demeanour and reassuring personality? How can I not desire that in my life? How much do I want more of what you are in my life! How I care about having you as a permanent fixture in the home that is my life. I need you here, I want you here. I want you in my life.

I want you so much that I am so afraid. I could not be a kinder, more respectful, more reliable, more compassionate person if I tried – but I worry that is still not enough for you to like me with even the slightest degree of intensity – that you worthy of more than what I can offer. And you may sit here with me over a cup of coffee, and speak with me, and smile at me – and still I will struggle to believe that you enjoy spending time with me.

I read in a book once that being nervous means you care deeply about something. What a conundrum to feel afraid about a friendship which I treasure so much and for which I would do anything to keep! Yes – and the most I could ever do to keep it would be to face and let go of my fears. I really do try, believe me. Every single possible interaction with you requires the courage to trust in my own worth and in your appreciation of it. On some days, my courage exists, and I can, even for a second, create intimany with you. On some other days, my courage is lacking, and the interaction falls into the world of the could have been’s.

You cannot see the number of possible interactions that have been lost because of my lack of courage. You experience only those where I acted in spite of my fears, and I know these have been few and far between. Please, do not interpret my inactivity as disinterest, for it could not be further from the truth. Behind my silence, my distance and my hesitation lies the conviction that you deserve nothing less than the very best.

{introverts}

I’ve often wondered why you stood out so much to me from everybody else. After all, they were just as skilled, knowledgeable, passionate and talented as you are. It’s only occured to me now that the reason I’ve always liked you has little to do with what you do, and so much more about who you are. They were always out-going and fun – but this over-friendliness, to my perspective, bordered on disingenuousness. You, on the other hand, was friendly enough to those whose good opinion you had; you rarely showed favoritism, and treated all with this same warm politeness and respect. While they taught with obvious enthusiasm, energy and excitement (as given away by often raised eyebrows, loud voices and big movements), your approach was much more calm and focused.

You once told me you were an introvert. I think I had always known that about you without even realising. It is probably one of the things I like the most about you. Your peaceful energy, the calm way you respond to others when they speak to you, the fact that you don’t start conversations just for the sake of it, that you don’t feel the need to join conversations you don’t want to be a part of, that you are never loud or overly friendly, that you never try to be somebody other than who you are.

This is what made you stood out in my eyes – it is that you didn’t try to. In a world of loud, excited, extroverted people, how easy it was to spot you, who did not even care about grabbing anyone’s attention. I recognised you, my introverted friend, and I thank you for showing me how amazing a quiet person can be.

{faith}

She wasn’t lost. She wasn’t scared. She was only … discovering. The thrill she had, the thrill that quickened her pace and accelerated her heartbeat had nothing to do with fear. It was excitement, at leaving everything behind, at knowing her boundaries would be barely visible if she looked back over her shoulder. There were no more rules, no more barriers protecting or restricting her. She could only rely on her own two feet to guide her forward, on the earth to offer her support, and on the stars to shine down on her.

There was no more home now – everywhere was her home. She could make a bed out of leaves, a house out of cards. She could eat her dreams and drink her thoughts. She could find a map or create her own. New places would become familiar; old places would live on at the back of her mind. She would find food in the mud, pillows in the clouds, shelter in the open and hope in the darkness.

She had no reason to go back, and she was, strangely, almost pulled forward, as if a piece of rope had been slipped around her waist and someone was pulling … someone lost in the shadows, far ahead. There was no drag, no pain to her steps, no doubt to where she was headed. Fully trusting whoever was pulling her. Faith in the invisible force of the future.

Written many years ago, in 2011 or 2012.

{how the body feels absence}

Her body perceived his absence most acutely: her eyes, so used to darting in his direction constantly, filled with disappointment at the sight of empty air where he usually stood; her lips, often fighting the impulse to curve upwards, no longer had a friend’s face to smile at; her ears, skilled in tuning in to a specific tone and timbre, could not hear that voice to which they were so accustomed. Now that he was absent, her senses, lost in the loss, only served to remind her of the devoted and extreme attention which she had paid him over so many years.

{Sometimes}

Sometimes. It’s a nice word. Long, soft. You can take your time pronouncing it. Sometimes.

Which means not always, but more than never. Which leaves you time to breathe, think and reconsider; imagine, dream and hope for the better.

Sometimes – not always enough but better than nothing. Sometimes open doors for memories and leaves room for possibilities. Sometimes is kind, sometimes is nice. Sometimes.

Candle

What moves the flame of a candle?
It is never completely still,
though it looks so calm.
Sensitive to the breath of the world,
It lets itself be transformed,
Whilst trying to stay aflame
Even when a strong gust is blown;
It might bend sideways
and almost lose its light,
but slowly rising, it returns upright
and continues on shining, ever so bright.

{a short description of a friend}

He embodied some of her favourite qualities in a person. Most striking to her was the air of tranquility about him, of a certain innate stillness; that his temper could not easily be stirred, and that he met everything in life with calm acceptance. Perhaps he was a man of passions, but it did not seem in his nature to become violently passionate. He had a kind and relaxed face which was always ready to smile. His voice was deep, but never raised; on the contrary, he was quiet rather than loud, and confident rather than arrogant – even when he preached.

The way he pronounced her name – with his thick accent – and his unfailing attempts at speaking a second language fluently, she found endearing. He was extremely polite towards her, but not to the point of coldness: she felt rather well looked after and cared for by him. It was his sense of duty that made him go out of his way, and therefore, helping and serving her was a pleasure, and not a burden. He complimented her, but not to flirt or to be complimented back; only because he meant it.

So she accepted graciously whatever he said or did, because she felt him to be genuine in words and actions. She replied with the same genuine politeness, and their conversation, despite simple, was somehow a memorable one, imbued with grace and the unique warmth that exists when two souls deeply respect, appreciate and even mirror each other.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started