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The “Before” Moments

Is it the disquieting anxiety of the ‘before’ moments hitting again or the bleakness her mind evokes in interpreting for patients struggling with leprosy or the general absence of ‘ the feel good’ energy during the past couple of weeks?

This morning, while walking towards the fields, she was suddenly overtaken by a sense of serenity that had been absent for quite a while. The sound of bees and the vast, vast green field ahead, uninterrupted by buildings and by people filled her with light and ease. There were no longer weights on her heart, lethargy in her body, and fear on her mind. She was there, released of all, reduced to a matter, to a body breathing, pulsating in all its physical corporeality: relieved of the hues and cries of the mind.

The low-power mode

Following months and months of intensive work, projects and deadlines. It feels strange not to be weighed down by yet another project requiring my imminent attention. The return from Paris has been followed by long naps and sound sleeps with my body and mind both seeming to recover from the intense pressure of trying to live every single moment to its optimum level!

With moving again in less than a month and not yet having a place to move into, I have decided to turn on the Low-power mode, prioritizing only what needs to be absolutely done…

Aix-en-Provence:Day 4

Thé exhaustion is creeping back stronger as I once again keep pushing the limits both mentally, intellectually and even physically. Insomnia transiting to troubled sleep pattern, intense emotional abstinence and lack of proper relaxed state impact the experience here. On thé bright side, the company of like-minded people and the shower of ideas and new visions has turned Aix to be one of the most enticing of experiences.

The upcoming Paris trip is a solace yet how could one stay in Paris and not yield totally to its charm? The obsession with totality, with wholeness , with perfection…

Aix- en-Provence: Day 3

Sitting in a big lecture hall at Aix-Marseille University in the south of France, listening to a charming Swedish professor giving her lecture on Swedish art and traveling artists at the beginning of the twentieth century, I am traveling in my thoughts. France has been quite welcoming with its sunny, blue landscape of the south, too much reminiscent of the earlier days and the ease of feeling at home again. The workload still lingers on as I woke up to a list of further documents and yet another interview looming ahead, but I feel much lighter…

The Whispers from Home

Underlying the hues and cries of the routines to which she was drawn with an almost inevitable force, the feeling of ‘losing moments” with them always lingered on. The creeping fear of “ the lasts”, the trepidations of not being or not longer being able to relive those moments of sweet harmony, unquestioned togetherness and loud, loud laughter in the house, she missed the most in the world.

The exhaustion and the fear of the upcoming future combined triggered stronger sense of homesickness. She longed to be home and what stopped her? She even went as…

Submitted!

Many days and nights of works, reading, writing, and editing encapsulated in this one simple word. It wasn’t just about the acts but of the affects as well; of cynical self-doubt and pessimistic hesitation to trained hope and flourishing optimism.

Standing at the beginning of a journey that has the potential to change the direction of my life to an irreversible extent, hazed by the multiplicity of queries and questions about the new landscape of research I am venturing to, I am confident of one thing and one thing only: I won't resist the flow of life.

Homesickness, loneliness, solitary Events and occasions combined with intellectual excitement and challenge, mental and emotional growth, and a newly emerging trust in myself and in my potentials

Time to launch!

The wisdom of Virginia Woolf for these days

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of – to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others… and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.”

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

The last night before the…

“All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.”

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

Lying in bed with an overwhelming extent of exhaustion that has marked her days and nights in the past couple of weeks, she reflected on her obstinacy not to let go of words. As K was going through the google docs they had shared to track the progress of the research, she felt an unease in even digitally leaving him to work, overwhelmed by…

The Mismeasure of the Self?

Multiple opened taps on the browser, half-written sentences in the middle of an almost written paper, youtube videos of affect and post critique on pause, and Prime Video on the latest whim of the end of the world narratives as the humdrum of the washing machine generates an illusion of being back home at my own place! Now, I think about home again and the curtains in the hall that I draw at night, pausing for a minute to appreciate the peaceful view of the trees and of the streetlamps. The traces of the haze…

The Racing Mind

The burnt out, exhausted mind which refuses to yield into sleep is the worst. For long, as long as I remember, I have envied people who have no trouble falling sleep. For me, it has always been a challenge.

Being in bed for almost two hours, trying a wide range of sleep inducing techniques, meditation, sleep music, breath counting, … but still here, sober and awake enough to even write!

Racing ideas, images and thoughts just don’t stop.

Mona

Fascinated by the dance of words as they blur the lines between reality and illusion, fact and fiction! Here, I write of my blurred songs of desire!

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