I speak volumes

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I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot stop overthinking. I used to be thinking all the time – there it was, the unending flow of words, sentences and ideas, images sometimes, thoughts rushing so fast I could barely keep up. It still happens to me everyday, but at least it isn’t stopping me from enjoying life anymore. I do not overanalyze and observe every single little detail anymore. Or at least, I don’t do it so much that I cannot entertain a simple conversation or activity.

My thoughts are not as dark as they used to be either. But… I still feel bugged. It seems to me I speak volumes, and I think volumes, but I cannot feel satisfied because I don’t act enough. Mahatma Gandhi once said: “Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are in harmony.”

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The harmony between the do and the say/think association doesn’t even come close to being realized in me. I keep thinking and saying: I’ll write in my blog once or twice a week; I’ll read more books; I’ll complete a painting every week and draw a little bit every day; I’ll

make sure to write some poetry or prose each day so I can complete my art and writing projects; I’ll be hard-working and study well to make sure I make my PhD dissertation the best I can make it… I think all these things. I say them too.

I envision my life and my sense of self would be like and how I could, most importantly, help others in any sort of way by achieving all these goals, by making all these dreams come true… But, happiness set aside, what makes the difference between a successful writer or artist and a would-be artist or writer if not the “doing”?

I don’t want to become bitter over time, thinking of myself as some sort of failure because I simply haven’t got myself to do what I dreamt of. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that all my dreams have passed me by. I don’t want to let the fear of failure and rejection stop me. I don’t want to let the remnants of my depressions tug at me and chain me, so they can take hold of me again.

I have made progress though… I do not seclude myself as much as I used to, and thanks to that, I have met my wonderful girlfriend. But now, I need to find the drive and dedication. I want what is swirling inside of me to be fully realized on the outside too. I wish not to only speak volumes, I want to create volumes!

Changes

I am back! Looking through my blog, I am realizing that it has almost been two months exactly since I last posted an article here, which might make it seem as though I had given up on the resolutions I had set for myself in Magic Number Ten. Such is not the case though!

First and foremost, I wanted to thank everyone who has followed this blog, commented on posts or liked them in the past year. It means a lot to me and if I can spread the slightest bit of joy, warmth, help or even beauty into the world thanks to what I paint, draw or write, then I am happy.

The past two months have brought a lot of changes into my life. I was quite busy teaching and thinking about the direction I wanted my life to take. I travelled to Auvergne, in the mountains  and sleeping volcanoes of the centre part of France, and I moved into my very own little flat. I also discovered meditation, which has been very helpful. It proved a perfect way to start heal some old wounds and clear a number of blockages that kept me from moving forward. At first, it felt like an explosion, or rather, an implosion that I gave colour to.

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Now, I am a lot calmer and driven. I could always feel, deep down, that living in a place of my own would improve my mood and concentration because I would feel much freer, but I was far from imagining how true it was. As I am presently almost done arranging the flat, I want to take up the list I had written two months ago.

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”
Mahatma Gandhi

Dream Balloons

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I was talking with my friend Mathou the other day and we suddenly started wondering about our identities. It is strange how the deepest, strangest conversations sometimes begin in the most incongruous of places, like the car that your friend has just parked to drop you off and that you end up leaving only an hour and half later…

Our identities… “What makes us who we are?” she asked me. I closed my eyes and saw only one thing: a small child running by the ocean shore holding a kite tightly in its hand and another one dancing in the sky among the clouds with its tiny fist closed on a bouquet of air balloons. I turned to my friend and said: “dreams.” Doesn’t our ability to hold on to our dreams and cherish them define us? When we are but children, our dreams are everything to us – and everything seems possible. They are the beautiful kites or balloons whose strings we wrap around our fingers to make sure they cannot be blown away by the wind. As we grow older, though, it seems the wind blows ever more strongly, making it harder and harder to hold on to the balloon string… And we get hurt; we fail; we lose… Imperceptibly, our grasp loosens – and some of us let go of the string… The dream balloon rises up to the sky and vanishes into the clouds… forever, out of sight… And we forget. Yet, some of us never let go. No matter how difficult, no matter how painful, we keep holding on to the dream balloon, even though the wind has become a storm that forces us to clench our fists until they hurt or to sew the strings to our skin so that they pull and make us bleed with every fierce gust of wind, we struggle on, because there always comes a time when tempest turns sunny day and the sky clears. The dream balloon is no longer hidden behind heavy clouds; it no longer hurts. It brings only the joy of beholding a long loved dream you can pursue at last.

“Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.”
― Langston Hughes

I hope anyone who reads this will take some time to go and take a look at Yuuta-Apple‘s deviantArt page, as she painted the wonderful painting that illustrates this post. She is an amazing artist! Give her love and support! ♥