Myth. People often don't believe in things which are either scientifically unproven or do not exsist . Similarly, myth is just a saying ; a belief that somebody could closely come across but never prove it , maybe because of the lack of resources required or knowledge of proof.
There's been a certain myth about some places, such as United Kingdom. you know the myth is - it's the most beautiful place to live and learn from but beauty comes virgin and is bitten at the very place from where it took birth , where it lays dead in opulent white cotton cover ; just still . They say certain things tear u apart , I never believed that a place had the power to eventually shatter somebody into millions of powdered peices of glass that they're unrecognizable to themselves again. This place has been the same to me, it has bred me , fed me and now asked for a price i.e . torn me down to an extent where I can't see my existence anymore. I've disappeared into some dark woods , some unknown corner , somewhere I can only sob and my wounds never heal .
Reality comes slapping in the face, with force and authority. It came to me too, came with enough spirit that I had to begin myself all over again, to wait and wait until I couldn't breathe any longer or think or be alive. My scariest part of the journey is right ahead of me ; my scars and I with a mirror to weep with ...scars that only become deeper and never heal ...scars that wait until the length of life hasn't crossed itself.
“I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.
And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.
I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.
John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.
The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.
But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.”
― Shauna Niequist
The truth is, I'm an indian girl bred in an english alluring palace ; now it's time to go back and crib and die to become a good woman who's origin is indian ; her flesh and bones and feelings and anything else to do with her is nothing but a waste of time. She needn't be fed or accepted ; she must just breathe and serve ; her duty until she's disposed to the ganges after she has stopped breathing and her body burnt .
The worst of my fears has come true.
There's been a certain myth about some places, such as United Kingdom. you know the myth is - it's the most beautiful place to live and learn from but beauty comes virgin and is bitten at the very place from where it took birth , where it lays dead in opulent white cotton cover ; just still . They say certain things tear u apart , I never believed that a place had the power to eventually shatter somebody into millions of powdered peices of glass that they're unrecognizable to themselves again. This place has been the same to me, it has bred me , fed me and now asked for a price i.e . torn me down to an extent where I can't see my existence anymore. I've disappeared into some dark woods , some unknown corner , somewhere I can only sob and my wounds never heal .
Reality comes slapping in the face, with force and authority. It came to me too, came with enough spirit that I had to begin myself all over again, to wait and wait until I couldn't breathe any longer or think or be alive. My scariest part of the journey is right ahead of me ; my scars and I with a mirror to weep with ...scars that only become deeper and never heal ...scars that wait until the length of life hasn't crossed itself.
“I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.
And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.
I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.
John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.
The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.
But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.”
― Shauna Niequist
The truth is, I'm an indian girl bred in an english alluring palace ; now it's time to go back and crib and die to become a good woman who's origin is indian ; her flesh and bones and feelings and anything else to do with her is nothing but a waste of time. She needn't be fed or accepted ; she must just breathe and serve ; her duty until she's disposed to the ganges after she has stopped breathing and her body burnt .
The worst of my fears has come true.
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