Somewhere but here..

The flying sky of fall

A lot has happened since my last post. October has gone. Across the road, the area that was a bright orange pumpkin patch is now a green field selling Christmas trees and glittery ornaments. Christmas gifts have replaced Halloween costumes in all nearby stores. The bright Sun which I hated in last ten months is kind of a kinder friend these days. There was rain in California. Finally. There were autumn leaves floating on the puddle of rain water. There were two whales playing close to the shore when we were driving by the ocean. Something so remarkable yet normal. I observed all. I noted down too. But I could not share.

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I’m racing against time and failing miserably. The whiteboard that showcased my goals for this year has been wiped off. It is clean and blank again. I celebrated the festival of light- Diwali, challenged the busy life, tried to fill up all the darkness with oil-lamps and candles, cooked meal for people I love, smiled in the photographs for social media. 2015 once again looked like the year where everything I did for others was perfect. 

I didn’t write anything here, or anywhere as planned. The photographs from October and November are yet to be published. In my head, there are thousand unfinished tasks, tasks that I have to do for myself. I’m missing almost every target I set for myself in January. And there’s not enough time. You know the stress when the answer paper is blank and time is limited. I feel like that sometimes.

But the outside world is different than the world inside. It’s so happy that I feel I belong to autumn. I can forget my lists and finally stay outside, whole day, watching hummingbirds without my camera. Or the red branches playing with the melodramatic sky. Beside the road, the fallen leaves look like dead failures and I run past them while listening to the sound they make. Those suddenly alive grasses. And the cold breeze smelling like cinnamon and sugar pies. Something about autumn makes me stop chasing my memory and think about possibilities. If I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking autumns and try to collect it all.

 

 

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10 thoughts on “Somewhere but here..

  1. I think we all set too many goals for ourselves, then chastise ourselves when we don’t meet them. Being a writer, a photographer, a creative artist to the max, brings ten times the stress, because we don’t always have time for what we love to do. Don’t be so hard on yourself, my friend. Write one blog at a time. Take one picture at a time. Let nature — and your soul — talk to you at its own pace. You will be amazed at what comes out.

    1. True. Also womanhood is strange, I guess. We always have time for others, and we ignore our own list in the process. Thank you for your kind suggestions. Thank you for reading too. 🙂

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