This is the dead week—a liminal period between the old and the new. 2023 feels like a page from an exquisite erasure poem, floating in a space where time doesn’t exist. It feels like many special moments are now rendered meaningless, even as new tiny spangles of meaning sprout in the fields of time. There are no guarantees in this borrowed time. The year feels like the Tibetan process of making sand mandalas only to destroy them, a testament to the fleeting beauty of impermanence.
The theme of impermanence emerges strongly as the year unfolds. I entered with a plethora of issues, but as I waded through, it became evident that the biggest problems, like broken relationships, weren't colossal after all. They were a function of people changing and, more profoundly, of how my values and expectations have evolved. By the end of the year, I've realized that what truly matters is how we release what's not meant for us, embracing the ebb and flow of life with grace.
This realization was further echoed after watching "Afterlife," a poignant Japanese movie where each deceased individual must choose one memory before transitioning. This cinematic journey subtly nudged me towards understanding the preciousness of moments and the art of letting go. A good movie always makes me think, and this one left an indelible mark, highlighting how ordinary moments form the most profound crucible of life.
Ending this year feels like a rite of passage to the next stage of life in many ways. I complete five years of being an immigrant, choosing a pseudo-sabbatical life, discovering more of myself, and rekindling my relationship with the natural and divine order. I've come to accept the impermanence of human relationships—even the closest ones can alter you, often unbeknownst to their ignorance of how much you value them. I've found joy in the most ordinary moments and art for the sake of art, which is ecstatic. I've come to appreciate the precious time remaining in this beautiful world and a myriad of other things that I often take for granted.
My theme for the next year, 'enriched distances,' stems from contemplating the right balance of closeness and separation that fosters movement and growth. It's akin to the orbital dance of our solar system, where each celestial body maintains a delicate distance, enabling harmony and preventing collapse. This metaphor reflects my aspiration to navigate life's relationships and challenges with a similar sense of balance and awareness.
I am at peace with this age and the beautiful experiences that life has to offer. As cliched as it sounds, breaking down, walking through the dark, and finding the self feels like a preset ritual in life. I visualize the different parts of the self, like tiny atoms floating in the plasma of existence. The moment the tiniest voice within starts to whisper, 'I am all of me,' the atoms begin their journey towards each other. If I had to imagine how my mass of atoms would be displayed in an exhibit, it would be based on the vibrations emitted at each life stage. It will bloom like a flower, at times a mangled mess but always changing shape yet staying together and making sense of each day as it comes. And one fine day, these atoms will go back to where they belong.
The Sisyphean boulder will still be there amid all this making/remaking and impermanence. I will try my best to sing, dance, love, help others, and make lots of art as I carry the boulder up and down the hill every day.
As I conclude this unusual year, it feels like a hand-rolled message from the Universe just for me. The choice to let the rough edges disappear into the backdrop and move into the next year with the wisdom that impermanence is not scary and can be beautiful, depending on how one dances with it.
If there were two things that I would want to share with you today, they are:
Love fiercely and hold those who matter close to your heart.
If this year has been hard, remember that the storms gotta run out of rain. The light is around there in the corner, perhaps closer than we think…
I chose these two poems to usher in this year. I hope you like it. I hope I will write more poems this year that I can share here.
Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shibab Nye Letters swallow themselves in seconds. Notes friends tied to the doorknob, transparent scarlet paper, sizzle like moth wings, marry the air. So much of any year is flammable, lists of vegetables, partial poems. Orange swirling flame of days, so little is a stone. Where there was something and suddenly isn’t, an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space. I begin again with the smallest numbers. Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves, only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies. Everything is Waiting For you by David Whyte Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice. You must note the way the soap dish enables you, or the window latch grants you freedom. Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. The stairs are your mentor of things to come, the doors have always been there to frighten you and invite you, and the tiny speaker in the phone is your dream-ladder to divinity. Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last. All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
As the year draws to a close, I want to thank each of you for your generosity and for allowing my writing to occupy a smol space in your inboxes and life. There are many people who have held space for me as I tried to rebuild myself. Thank you to all of you ( you know who you are). The communities like
have been invisible forces that helped me show up and write here. I am a strong believer that we have the ability to create our own realities. I hope with this grounding theme of enriched distances; I am able to continue my orbit in my journey with more energy than ever :D.I leave you with this excerpt from Carl Sagan’s The Blue Dot.
We all live here, and all we have is each other. I wish you a new year of beautiful possibilities grounded in love and goodness.