“A disposable life, Jury could see the days peeling away from this woman like the pages of a calendar, still blank “ – Martha Grimes

The above quote is from The Old Fox Deceiv’d, a mystery set in Rackmoor, “a village that is tilted on the edge of the North Sea“, brought to life by the evocative prose of Ms. Grimes, an author I am fortunate to have stumbled upon recently.

This quote struck me in particular – with the force of my 80 pound pup buffeting me – because I feel like ‘the woman’ referred to in it – a specter, an apparition, a ghoul.

In the story, she dumps her child in order to follow a man to London, just so she can bathe in HIS riches. Alas – the sounds of clattering gold do not eradicate the absolute silence in her life.

She exists…a lonely existence with no talent, no dream, no LOVE. She just IS…isolated, misguided, limited.

That’s exactly how I feel – apart from the ‘no love’ part (I am surrounded by GENUINE love, and yet as lonely as an outcast who is executed by society).

As I read the above quote, I could picture the empty pages of a calendar rustling in the wind – the empty pages belonging to my life.

I haven’t written anything significant in over three months – barring client assignments, which were also quite sub-par.

My brain is empty.

Scratch that.

My brain is trapped in an vortex of obsession – unsanitary thoughts clouding my rationale, cluttering my peace of mind, curtailing (what little) imagination.

It is all I can do to get through each day without harming myself.

I am hurting. I am helpless. I am hollow.

I feel like that dude from Groundshog day – my mind ambushed by the same obsessive thoughts, snared in a loop of powerless negativity.

I don’t call myself a writer anymore because I don’t write. I don’t show up and seduce my muse. I don’t sit down and search my soul.

Whenever I loosen the leash on my mind, it explodes into a thunderstorm of ugliness – blinding my eyes with its’ icy slashes and deafening my ears with its’ roaring boom.

I hope NONE of you have ever felt or feel the way I do, but do you still have any advice on how to reconnect with life when living just feels futile?

How do you fill the blank pages on your calendar?

6 pm, February 13.

*I was pissed.*

My husband had requested an Uber cab 10 minutes ago, but it showed no signs of gliding in front of our hotel.

“Didn’t Uber pride itself on its punctuality,”I mumbled to myself.

(Because I was obviously the Queen of England who just HAD TO BE ON TIME.)

We were waiting at the ground floor of the Allegro Boutique Hotel, Chicago – where I had booked a room for the Valentines’ Day weekend –  eager to catch the next show of Deadpool, featuring the yummilicious Ryan Reynolds.

The freezing breeze slapped our faces every time another slim and scantily-clad woman – wearing a sequined gown that barely covered her knees–  walked through the revolving entrance doors.

(Did these gals think we were in Florida? And how could they walk on snowy sidewalks in those 25 inch heels?!)

When seething in jealousy at those young, thin, shapely curves got boring, I began snapping at my husband for being biased towards a self-centered brand like Uber, which is putting the smaller cab companies out of business.

Never mind that I didn’t give two hoots about the other taxis; I just wanted to dump my anger on someone, and my husband was a convenient target.

Rolling his eyes, because he was used to my annoying mood swings, he asked me to calm down and take a seat on one of those stylish couches placed against the wall. After ranting and raving for couple more minutes, I flopped down on a cream-colored furry chair that was quite obviously a Komodoro in disguise.

I folded and unfolded my legs a zillion times, wringed my hands anxiously, and muttered a few more choice words against the obvious incompetent driver.

So fixated was I on a cab that was running a few minutes late that I forgot to appreciate the colorful paintings adorning the white walls; the sparkling chandeliers that caressed us all with its soft light; or my quiet husband who fervently wished he was anywhere other than with his psychotic wife

“You can stop moping now. It’s here.”

My husband’s long-awaited announcement instantly put the brightest smile on my face, and I practically hopped and skipped and leapt into the cab, ready to give the driver a piece of my very intelligent mind.

I could FEEL my husband shaking his head at my back, clearly ruing the day he said, “I do!”

“Sorry, I was stuck in traffic.”

The driver’s apology instantly silenced my every petty complaint. I gulped and reprimanded myself for being self-centered. This sweet guy was doing his best, and I couldn’t wait 600 extra seconds to make sure he arrived safe and sound to pick up his next fare.

I muttered something to the likes of “Oh – don’t worry. It’s okay.”

His next words had me bowing in shame.

“My previous passengers canceled because I was running a few minutes late. I am glad you both understood.”

I had offered the same suggestion – i.e. to cancel the cab – a while ago, so, technically, I wasn’t better than his previous passengers. In fact, I felt like a sham who was simply putting up a facade of goodness, when, really, I was a horrible person.

To make up for my folly, I started chatting with him about his experience as an Uber driver.

I had ASSUMED – like I usually do – that this was just a stopgap measure while he found better paying jobs.  I had also expected him to grumble about this ‘thankless job.’

Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to witness his obvious passion, dedication, and integrity. Here was a man who loved his job and wasn’t afraid of hard work.

With his every anecdote, I could feel the chillness in my heart being replaced with the warmth of affection.

Just before depositing us in front of the theater, he said:

“Why would you take up a job that you are NOT passionate about? It’s not about the money – it’s about loving your work. When you enjoy what you do, you are willing to stay up late and get the job done.”

We nodded, thanked him profusely for a fun ride, and went inside the cavernous cinema complex.

All through the movie, even as the GORGEOUS Ryan Reynolds kicked and punched and stabbed villains, the Uber driver’s words spun around in my mind.

Today, almost a month later, his insights continue to resonate within me and will, without a doubt, be remembered for as long as I live. (even as I cannot remember his name)

A ten minute ride in an Uber cab taught me to be considerate towards other people’s needs and compassionate towards my own.

Final Notes:

(a) Too often, we are submerged in our own woes to realize that every single human on this planet has travails of his or her own. When we are drowning in a quicksand of angst and anger towards someone else, let’s reconsider our situation from their perspective. Stop assuming, presuming, judging, or inferring. Only when we peek out of our own shells will our worlds expand to envelop those around us. And only when our worlds expand will our hearts expand too.

(b) No task is big or small; no person is big or small; no experience is big or small. Labels only keep us apart – love binds us all. Whatever you do, do it with honesty, sincerity, and empathy.

Thank you, Uber guy!

Note: I penned this for my Facebok Group – Happiness Haven – but thought this post deserved a slightly larger audience

I enjoy writing at cafes.

The air crackles with an aromatic blend of freshly brewed nutty coffees and freshly baked crumbly pastries.

The shelves are stocked with cups, travel mugs, coffee power packs, snack bags, and other colorful knickknacks.

Strangers weave in and out of my conscious, whispering sweet nothings, placing orders for their favorite drinks, laughing raucously with their loved ones, or sitting in a quiet corner and clacking away at their laptops.

It is a space where ‘doing’ and ‘being’ exist together…a space of love, laughter, and dreams…a space where solitude and connection co-mingle…a space where you are alone and yet you are not.

A metaphor for life.

Yes, I love almost everything about cafes…

…except one thing…

The music.

I cannot tolerate the songs played at American cafes,primarily because I cannot identify any of them.

I have only recently ventured into the world of English music – I am looking at you, Pandora – so the songs that calm others cause unrest within me. Hence, I always take my earbuds and listen to the music of my choice.

Oops – I did it again

Two weeks ago, on an unusually warm Sunday morning, however, I forgot to take my earbuds to Starbucks.

Things went fine for a while – i.e, for about 10 minutes.

600 seconds later, my heart started pounding, my hands started itching, and my legs started trembling.

These are my symptoms of restlessness, unease, and irritation.

Ten more minutes later, I was ready to pack my bags, go home, grab by earbuds, and return to the cafe.

That’s when I realized that my husband was due to be at the gym in about 20 minutes because he plays racquetball every Sunday morning.

Unfortunately, he takes this ‘guy time’ very seriously, and might not be amenable towards making a tiny detour to drop off my earbuds.

I decided to face his wrath anyway – I HAD to save my sanity!

So I called him, used my most adorable voice, and gently asked him whether he could bring my earbuds….

Much to my surprise, the usually impatient man was quite willing to fulfill my wish. I think he understood how important it was for me to complete my research.
As he handed over my earbuds, smiled, and drove away, I turned my face to the skies and thanked GOD for getting me married to my best friend.

Romance? PSHAWW

My husband and I are unlike most couples.

We are not the I-can’t-take-my-eyes-off-you kind.
We are more then I-will-make-fun-of-you-all-the-time kind

I will never forget the day my niece’s 10 year old friend looked at me, concern flashing in her eyes, and asked,“Do you guys hate each other?!”

LOLLLLLLLLLL – we were ‘pulling each other’s leg’ – like we always do – which seemed weird to a girl who, until then, had believed that two people in love never fight.

We do not follow the conventional dictates of romance.

My husband, in particular, does not believe in grand gestures or expressions of life.

He is the kind of person who doles out hugs randomly and buys thoughtful (AND PRACTICAL) gifts to make life comfortable for you, but will never do something romantic because it’s EXPECTED

To date, his BEST gift has been a REMOTE CAR STARTER because my hands get blue during winter. I don’t tolerate the cold easily, so the remote starter gets my car all warm and fuzzy during those unbearably frigid days.

Do I miss being WOOED with flowers and cards and chocolates and jewelry?

SURE.

But I am even more grateful for his simple and sweet gestures at the most unexpected moments.

..like when he dropped off my earbuds when he didn’t have to. I had a car and was perfectly capable of driving back home or buying another pair of earbuds from the CVS next door.

But he did – and I flashed my most radiant grin.

Am I judging those who ARE overtly demonstrative with their love? NOT AT ALL!

Do what comes naturally to you.

For instance, I am the more ‘romantic’ of the two, which is perhaps why I whisked us both away to Chicago for the weekend. I wanted to spend a night at a ’boutique hotel’ – $100 per night – and also take a break from my regular confines (AHEM, my laptop :P)

We both enjoyed the palatial lobby, the cozy room, and the decandent 4-star dinner.

So, yeah, it’s perfectly normal – even necessary – to go overboard every once in a while. But do not measure someone’s love for you by a gift’s price tag.

Actually, do not measure love. PERIOD.

Feel it, live it, experience it, share it, and embrace it – but do not taint it by attaching conditions, restrictions and EXPECTATIONS.

Conclusion:
There is a reason I wrote this today instead of yesterday. I wanted to remind everyone that you don’t need a day – or a thick wallet – to express love. You just need an honest intention….

Show love to your partner, your friends, your pets, your colleagues, your friends, and even STRANGERS in small, simple, significant ways

(LOVE is not limited to your spouse or your partner…love is the religion of humanity, so why fear expressing it?)

LISTEN to them, empathize with them, hug them, flash a smile at them. When you demonstrate your affection every day, Valentines Day becomes one of the many cherries on an already delicious cake – it is not the whole cake!

What is the sweetest thing a loved one has done for you?

Through angst and anger

Through boredom and bitterness

Through consternation and chaos

Through disgust and doubt

Through envy and exasperation

Through fears and fatigue

Through guilt and grief

Through hesitation and hostility

Through indignation and inquietude

Through jealousy and jitters

Through kvetches and kookiness

Through lassitude and loneliness

Through misery and malaise

Through nerves and negativity

Through odium and obstructions

Through panic and pique

Through qualms and questions

Through resistance and resentment

Through struggles and suspicions

Through trepidation and torment

Through unease and uncertainty

Through vexation and vacillation

Through woefulness and wrath

Through X, Y and Z

And every other situation in between…

Persist

                                         – Krithika Rangarajan 

“Things never go the way you expect them to. That’s both the joy and frustration in life. I’m finding as I get older that I don’t mind, though. It’s the surprises that tickle me the most, the things you don’t see coming.” –  Michael Stuhlbarg

I was not supposed to be there.

It was Labor’s Day – the last day of the Schaumburg Fair. My parents, who were visiting me for ten days, wanted to attend this festival. After much hemming and hawing, I chose to stay back and complete an urgent assignment that I had ignored for far too long.

Apparently, parents are not conducive to productivity. I spent almost all day – every day – gabbing with them while letting my work slide.

My decision made, I dropped face down on the bed, ready to take a nap before beginning work – because, you know, that just make sense!

But, despite twisting and turning for a whole hour, I couldn’t sleep. My heart kept nudging me to attend the fair with my family.

When my restlessness reached a crescendo, I threw caution out the window and dressed in my best outfit – ready to seize the day!

An hour later, two hours before the fair was scheduled to end, we all jumped into the car and drove the one block away to the fair.

The sky shimmered in the golden sunlight. The breeze cavorted around us as my mom and I fingered the merchandise at several artistic booths. The addictive sounds of childish chatter, girly giggles and mechanical whirring (of the rides) exploded in the air.

In all, it was the perfect day for a family outing.

Who knew that my last minute decision would turn into a memorable gift that would keep on giving?

The Fetching Tails Foundation

“Saving one dog will not change the world, but surely for that one dog, the world will change forever.” ― Karen Davison

I have been double-minded about fostering a dog for the last six months.

Adopting Oreo – my 18 month old ‘Bassador’ (Bassett+ Lab) – in June, 2014 was the best decision of my life. This ornery, whip-smart, exasperating and melodramatic pup’s antics lends unlimited joy to the most unsatisfying days.

But fostering was a different level of commitment.  Loving a dog – even for a few days – and then letting it go can be heartbreaking. My intuitive husband was unsure about whether his uber-emotional wife will be able to handle this separation.

(Guess he was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to give up the dog and that his home would be usurped by our four-legged friends!)

So we kept postponing any discussions about fostering.

Until that fateful day in the Schaumburg fair when the decision was made for me.

After a particularly dizzying ride, we took a leisurely stroll through the fairgrounds towards the eating area.The fair was ending in twenty minutes. We wanted to grab a snack and leave before the mob descended on us!

Suddenly, my husband grabbed my arms and directed my attention towards the Fetching Tails Foundation booth.

“I think they are urging people to fill out foster applications,” he whispered.

My soul instantly lurched in delight. Was this a sign?

I turned around, walked back to their booth and spent some time chatting with the founders of this relatively new Illinois-based organization. The simple mission of this volunteer-run organization is to find a “forever home” for our adorable canine pals.

Two minutes later, my hands were filling out a foster application. They were moving of their own volition. My brain was not involved – at all. I was joyously swinging to the rhythms of my heart.

The very next day, on Tuesday, I found myself completing online applications, signing consent forms and participating actively in FTF’s Facebook groups – oohing and aahing at rescued dogs who, for whatever reason, were abandoned and desperately needed love.

Given that I have a PhD in procrastination, my proactive ‘fostering’ measures made my husband laugh. He was ecstatic to sit in the sidelines while his wife took charge – for once!

Clearly, I needed to do this and he was letting me fulfill my desires.

On Wednesday, September 9, five hours after my husband dropped my parents off at the airport, I got a private message from one of the FTF coordinators and co-founders.

“A 4-5 year old dog was just dumped at the shelter by her previous owners. Are you willing to foster it?”

One look at those expressive, almond eyes and my heart purred happily.

Daphne became my first foster.

Daphne: An Old Soul with the Purest Heart

“Why does watching a dog be a dog fill one with happiness?” —Jonathan Safran Foer

Daphne – a tiny, 44-pound lab/beagle mix – was a paradox.

She was a loner with restless legs; a gentle lady with a childlike curiosity; a quiet damsel with a caffeinated personality.

Her first night at my place, I slept in between my two canine-kids, with Oreo placing his head on my feet and D pushing her face into my neck.

Despite my creaking joints and aching bones, I have never had a more pleasurable night.

There is nothing this Snoopy – as I referred to her – liked more than poking into every crevice in my pantry, placing her paws on tall countertops, curling next to her sitting area in my office room, and, most importantly, resting her head on my feet while I massaged her ears.

Oh – and pushing her nose into trashcans.

I once saw Daphne with her neck inserted into my trash can’s lid! It was the most amusing sight of my life.

After guffawing for ten minutes, I quickly placed the trashcans on top of my bathroom counters – where they stayed until her departure!

Daphne LOVED humans. She would follow me everywhere and lay down next to me while I clacked away at the keyboard.

Alas – Daphne didn’t warm up to my romantic pup. Oreo couldn’t stay away from this beauty, and drove her nuts with his licking, his nipping and his energy!

Everywhere she went, there he was, until she finally started growling and barking at him – her tail wagging the whole time.

(It felt good to see my pup starving for attention, considering his mum – aka me – is usually the one doing the begging!)

Unfortunately, this dainty darling struggled with Urinary Tract Infection (UTI) and a horrible wheezing sound – which was later diagnosed as kennel cough – the whole time she was here. I didn’t mind cleaning up after her or spending hours massaging her chest. I just wanted her to feel better.

When her coughing worsened, I would gather her in my arms and rock with her on the recliner until she calmed down.

Clearly, Daphne had embedded herself in my heart. I didn’t want to judge, but couldn’t help but wonder why her owners just dumped her because they were moving. WHY?

A Bittersweet Separation 

“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.” – Roger Caras

On Sunday morning, I dropped Daphne at an adoption show.  On Sunday afternoon, my husband let me know that she was being adopted.

My heart sank.

I knew this day would come. I knew my sweet friend would have to leave. I knew she deserved a forever-home.

Knowing any of this didn’t lessen the heartbreak. I sniffled into my pillow for ten minutes after which I cuddled her for ten more.

I wanted to NOT think about my final goodbye – for just one more evening.

I wanted to hold her close – for just one more hour.

I wanted to massage her ears and chest – for just one more day.

On Monday morning, my eyes twinkling with tears, I dropped her off at the vet’s place. She had to get spayed and treated for the kennel cough.

I had already said my goodbyes, so it was a quick drop-off. Her scent, however, still lingers in my car.

Are You Letting Your Life Surprise You?

“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” –Ashley Montagu

The whole experience taught me that, sometimes, it is okay to stop planning and start leaning INTO your LIFE. Just go with the flow and see what happens.

When I dropped my plans to ‘write’, I was blessed with a lifetime of memories. I also found the inspiration to complete my assignments quicker. Because life is the greatest muse.

My mentor and favorite blogger, Katherine Kotaw of Kotaw Content Marketing, once said, “Seek stories everywhere.”

I haven’t heard a more empowering or powerful writing quote. My ‘fair excursion’ gave me the material for a social media post, this blog post, and the motivation to complete my frustrating assignments.

Most importantly, it gifted me with lifelong memories of a beautiful lady who stole my heart with nary an effort. LOVE YOU, Daphne.

Can’t Wait for My Next Foster….

Three days ago, I took my Oreo to the vet because he had started making those wheezing noises too.

The doctor looked at me gently and said, “I think Oreo got his kennel cough from your first foster, but I hope this doesn’t change your mind about sheltering other dogs.”

Surprised, because that thought had never entered my mind, I quickly reassured her saying that nothing is going to stop me from fostering more dogs.

Daphne will always hold a very special place in my heart. I can still hear the pitter-patter of her elegant paws; I can still smell her unique odor; I can still feel her soft furs against my chin.

Yes, giving up a dog breaks your heart, but knowing that he or she has found a loving home makes the heartbreak well worth it.

Oh – and the trashcans are back in place

Krithika Rangarajan

Question: Why writing is important to your business success, and how Damn Fine Words could be the game-changer you need?

I take five hours to complete the first draft of a 1000 word post.

I itch to walk away from my laptop every ten minutes.

I get excited by a new project, but don’t have the gumption to see it through.

I am extremely passionate about words, but my heart plummets every time I sit down to write.

I am horrible at generating ideas.

I am afraid of receiving less-than-stellar feedbacks.

I am panic-stricken at the thought of failing.

I possess the intention to succeed, but lack the willpower to fulfill my dreams.

I get stuck in the planning mode or research phase.

I am envious of writers who wax rhapsodic about their ‘state of flow’.

I act less and react more.

I promise to write every morning, only to be distracted by my ever-filling Inbox.

I engage in constant comparisons and always fall short.

I am always frustrated, dejected and scared.

I think about quitting every single day.

Why are these issues problematic? Because I am a full-time freelance writer.

The success of my business is directly dependent upon my ability to write fast, write more, and write better. If I have to position myself as a confident writer who can produce clear, compelling and creative prose, I need help – and fast.

I need a mentor who cares about the success of aspiring writers, entrepreneurs and freelancers. I need a mentor who can whip my butt into action with a smile. I need a mentor who gives a damn.

The Damn Fine Writers course promises to teach us a ‘wash, rinse, repeat’ system that will help me achieve a lot more with a lot less stress. And I am extremely ‘teachable.’ Deadlines, assignments and instructions inspire me more than some elusive muse who never shows up. A structured outlet of expression rouses me to show up every day and happily do the work to grow as a professional writer.

I have waited too long to accept my writing dreams.  Now that I have made my choice, I don’t want to wait for the ‘right time’ to accelerate my career.

The time is NOW. I am ready.

A Dream That Was Squashed for Too Long

I have been a logophile all my life. As a child, I spent every second of my free time devouring books, pulling all-nighters to read my favorite Agatha Christie or Sidney Sheldon thrillers for the fifth time.

But I never wrote.

I didn’t have a journal. I didn’t outline stories. I didn’t even express my desire to write.

My culture did not explicitly encourage writing as a career. And I didn’t have the courage to break the rules and follow my dreams.

So I remained content acing class assignments and penning horrible poems that only my mom loved.

In 2014, at age 32, after reading Jeff Goins’ “You ARE a Writer” on a turbulent flight, I got back home and scribbled the words, “I am a writer” on every available surface. It took me another month to acquire the courage to mouth four words for the first time in my life: “I am a writer.”

Now, why did I narrate my backstory?

As a woman in her mid-thirties, I am paralyzed by a palpable fear that it is too late for me to become a reputable writer. I condemn myself every day for not starting sooner. I spend more time wallowing in self-pity than playing with words, which saps my enthusiasm.

I am tired of belittling my dreams.

I am tired of being afraid.

I am tired of postponing my pet projects.

I am tired of wasting time.

I am tired of being tired.

How Could Damn Fine Words Change My Life?

Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I dropped my excuses, befriended my fears and chained myself to the chair. I dream about being efficient, effective and energetic. I have visions of being a respected feature story writer with some magazine or startup.

Then I look at the mocking cursor that blinks at my stupidity and snap back to reality. It reminds me that despite my passion for writing, I lose my excitement at the first hint of an obstacle. Then I begin to doubt my skills. This negativity feeds on itself until I am swallowed by disgust and depression.

How can I ever hope to succeed if I am not strong enough to move beyond my obstacles?

Damn Fine Words will equip me with the practical know-how and self-assurance to achieve my goals. Instead of languishing in my dream-world, I will acquire the support to DO what needs to be done in order to bring my dreams to fruition.  I will have a much higher chance of quickly becoming a positive, expressive and (thrice as) productive writer who crafts engaging words that are loved and shared.

Damn Fine Words will also rejuvenate my freelancing career.  Working on the coursework will give me the courage to position myself as a worthy writer who strives to exceed a client’s expectations – every time. I will pitch more often and stop taking rejections personally. I will no longer shortchange my talent, confident that I can back up my price with quality work. Consequently, I will start enjoying a profitable business in a career of my choice.

In all, Damn Fine Words will mold me into a more efficient writer – faster. Being supported by an engaging community will spur me to become an organized, reliable, delightful and spirited writer who relishes writing for her own audience and enriches the brand image of her clients.

All Is Not Lost

Despite my grimness, I am not just sitting around and doing nothing. From the moment I owned my destiny as a writer, in February 2014, I have written almost every day.  I began freelancing in earnest around eight months ago, during which I have helped a variety of clients with their blogging and transcription needs. I am in love with the diversity of freelancing. I wake up looking forward to researching and writing my next assignment.

Even the gloomiest days don’t have the power to prevent me from getting back in front of my computer. I wait for my tears to dry and then resume my work, trusting that my passion will lead the way.

My greatest strength is that I don’t give up – I will continue to persist, even if the mean side of my mind never stops preordaining my failure. I don’t know what else to do but write. I don’t want to do anything else but write. So write I will – every day.

Damn Fine Words will turbocharge my career. But even if I don’t win this contest, I will continue placing one foot forward

Because I am a writer – and writers write.

Thank you for this wonderful opportunity to learn from you, Ms. James Chartand.

Note: I participate in the Barefoot Writer contest every month. The title of this blog post was the question for the July contest. I have copied and pasted my response below. However, I am curious – what is YOUR favorite way to recharge in summer and/or fall?

Exercising on the treadmill is my favorite summertime activity. It recharges my creativity by giving me a much needed pause from the hustle of life.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to frequent the gym this year.

My husband’s erratic schedule has forced me to walk our dog, Oreo, daily! These twice-a-day walks with my cookie don’t leave enough time for gym duties. I haven’t stepped into my fitness center since the beginning of May.

But I am not complaining.

Much to my surprise, walking outdoors has proven to be immensely beneficial. I was never a fan of exercising in the lap of nature. I thought it would be boring and, more importantly, wouldn’t burn as many calories as a sweaty run on an inclined treadmill.

I was right about the latter. Walking my dog will not transform me into a lean machine. I was wrong about the former. Walking nourishes my mind, body and soul, which is equally rewarding.

In fact, as someone with a troubled body image, I find it liberating to not worry about numbers while walking. I focus on finding ways to enjoy my present.

There are times when my agitated mind and achy body demand loud music, so I listen to my favorite songs. There are times when my soul yearns for solitude, so I walk quietly by Oreo’s side, occasionally yanking his leash when he meanders into a stranger’s yard or spends too long sniffing the grass for poop. There are times when my mind demands a fun podcast, so I select shows that enliven my mindset and my words.

In effect, I relax into the moment by giving in to my heart’s desire.

Oreo is a fabulous stress-buster too.

Two days ago, I took him for an evening walk around my neighborhood.

The sun had dipped below the horizon. The gray clouds stood ominously still, like they were waiting for someone’s permission before releasing their pent-up rage. The leaves swayed like a restless dancer, whooshing from one side to the other. Even the usually mellifluous birds cried out in stress.

I don’t like the dark and I don’t like thunderstorms. I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a torrential downpour, so I walked at a faster pace. Meanwhile, my gleeful puppy, completely oblivious to the mounting anxiety of his owner, took his sweet time smelling his favorite droppings.

After clenching my teeth for ten minutes, I looked down at Oreo who was peering askance into my eyes, as though saying, “Just loosen up, will ya, and have fun with me!” Then he ran and I had no choice but to run with him. Watching my cartoonish dog run sideways made me laugh out loud.

That spontaneous laughter felt good.

Nothing recharges our creativity better than a moment of uninhibited fun, eh?

Mission accomplished.

Again, tell me readers, what is your favorite way to relax, recharge and rejuvenate your creativity? (And if you are interested, please check out my winning entry for January, 2015)

Note: This post first appeared on Medium

Good Morning

It feels good to see these two words on my screen. I haven’t uttered them in three years.

I usually greet my husband in one of several exciting ways:

• With a sullen “Morning” into my coffee cup (How is ‘morning’ even a wish? It is a half-baked exclamation at best and a boring noun at worst!)
• With a “Shit man, stop snoozing already. Just get up!”
• If I am feeling marginally optimistic, I might give him a morning hug.
• Silence.

As children, we were taught to wish everyone a cheerful morning. My mum insisted. I didn’t know or ask why.

Not until last Monday, when I voiced this phrase after a long hiatus.

Last Sunday, while reading another listicle about how to make mornings more productive, I suddenly realized that none of these articles recommended saying “Good Morning”. Most, if not all, posts extolled the virtues of meditation, cold showers, working out, and free writing.

All great choices, but I wondered whether they were overlooking the easiest way to lend a frisson of delight to our AMs.

Did “Good Morning” have the potential to brighten my day in any tangible way?

I had to find out. So I conducted an experiment.

Three days out of six, I wished my husband “Good Morning.” The remaining three days, I didn’t.

I am here to gladly report that these two unassuming words proved immensely powerful. There was a marked difference in my attitude, resilience and determination whenever I wholeheartedly wished my husband and my pup “Good Morning!”

Following are some ways in which “Good Morning” sets the stage for a pleasurable and proactive day:

a. It acts as an acknowledgement AND an avowal of joy

“Do not say, ‘It is morning,’ and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a newborn child that has no name.” — Rabindranath Tagore

By saying “Good Morning”, you are not only celebrating your present — “Yes, THIS moment is a blessing” — but are also promising to hold onto that pleasurable feeling, at least for a while — “Yes, I shall do my best to enliven this morning.”

It is simultaneously a confirmation and a commitment, setting a hopeful and happy tone for the remaining 16 hours. What’s not to love?

Just thinking about greeting my husband tomorrow brings a smile onto my tired face!

b. It gives you a pause and connects you to the outside world

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” — Omar Khayyam

There have been too many mornings when my husband hurriedly rushes out of the home, while his wonderful wife stares bleary-eyed at her computer, not looking at him even once.

A loving ‘Good Morning’ gives you a break from the daily hustle to connect you with the recipient — even for just a moment — before life’s demands take over. In this one moment, you feel less alone and more in sync with your world.

Also, while husbands make it darn hard to love them, this phrase miraculously softens my irritation towards mine! 

I am willing to look past petty annoyances— like his uncapped toothpaste, his strewn dirty clothes and a dry tea cup — to appreciate him as a person with goals and desires.

Regardless of anything else that might happen later in the day, I am glad that we both had one moment of peace and togetherness.

That memory is ours — forever.

It’s quite magical, really.

c. It infuses you with gratitude

“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive — to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” — Marcus Aurelius

“Good Morning” rouses you to appreciate your life, while also wishing the best for the recipient.

These two words honor the gift of life.

You have just been given another day to inch closer towards your dreams and share your love — what a blessing, eh?

Doesn’t this inspire you to give, do and best your best the whole day?

d. It is just a nice thing to say

“Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.” ― Henry David Thoreau

Even if none of the above reasons resonate with you, “Good Morning” is just a heartwarming salutation.

It is a generous gesture that can vivify someone’s mornings, especially if they woke up on the wrong side of the bed!

“Good Morning” makes the grumpiest riser smile and the groggiest eyes twinkle! (At the very least, the cantankerous risers will have a fun memory of throwing a cup at anyone who dares to imply that mornings can be good ;))

Conclusion:

In our always-on, distraction-rich world, happiness can often feel like hard work.

But it doesn’t have to be.

Two simple words — Good Morning — can strengthen and stimulate you to rock the first four to five hours after you wake up (if not the whole day!)

You don’t have to believe me. If you have drifted away from this habit, reinstate it and let me know whether this phrase works wonders for you too.

Thanks for reading, friends! Please share if you agree

“The best way of removing negativity is to laugh and be joyous.” – David Icke

It was midnight. The bedroom windows were open.

Twinkling pinpoints of delight winked at me from above. An invigorating breeze wafted in, lifting the hair over my ears, like it was getting ready to whisper sweet-nothings. I smiled, tilted my head and closed my eyes. I eagerly anticipated its secrets.

For around sixty seconds, the sounds and smells of the magical night kept me safe from the monsters of the world.

Drip.

An ugly thought invaded my mind.

I furrowed my brows and mentally kicked it out. Nothing was going to drag me out of my paradise.

Not today.

Drip. Drip.

Too late. My admonition was a second too late.

Two other thoughts took advantage of the opening and thudded after the first thought.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Unlike an IV drip that energizes an sick person with every drop of glucose, my negative thoughts enervated me with every tiny drip.

“Just think of any negativity that comes at you as a raindrop falling into the ocean of your bliss.” – Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

My head complained against this intrusion. A pain shot from the center to the ends of my skull.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip

My forehead was split into two by a deep crease at the center.

I writhed in agony, pleading with my negative thoughts to stop: “Please, please, please, please.”

My exhortations fell on deaf ears.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I opened my eyes, tears of frustration now freely flowing down my ashen cheeks.

Then I screamed – an eerie scream of helplessness that scared my sleepy dog.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I jumped out of the bed, my body hot with shame, anger and despondency. The balmy breeze seemed like a mockery now.

My mind, body and soul were consumed by this ‘basilisk of negativity.’

Drip. Drip. Drip. DripDrip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. . Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I ran down the stairs and fell onto my couch, banging my head over and over again against its arms. When I felt too fatigued to hit my head anymore, I sagged onto the floor – desperate, dejected, depleted.

One of my close friends pinged me at that moment. I assumed her nudge was God’s way of reconnecting me with reality. With leaden hands, I typed what I was going through and how I was feeling. I was especially concerned about my apathy – I felt disinterested and detached from every human emotion. In all honesty, I felt like a sociopath with no compassion.

However, venting to her  helped, especially since she always finds the right words to comfort others.

“If you find yourself plagued by a recurrent worry, train yourself to think of something else. Your conscious mind can concentrate on only one thought at a time, and driving the negativity away will free you up to move forward again.” – Harvey Mackay

But she is not always around to help and such freaky occurrences are, unfortunately, common.

I breakdown in despair and fear every single day. Derogatory, desperate and deplorable thoughts swirl around in my brain – over and over and over again. I am too ashamed to even tell you what they are. Like a ruined tape that repeats the same lyrics, my mind conjures up the SAME thoughts every hour of every day of my life.

Yes, I am tired. So tired. It is no fun stumbling over the same roadblocks repeatedly.

I recently learned that there is a term to describe what perennially negative people like me experience: automatic negative thoughts or intrusive thoughts, a speck on the spectrum of OCD.  (This article eloquently describes some of what I think and feel on a regular basis.)

When uncontrollable negativity assaults your peace of mind, the best you can do is wait out this storm, TRUSTING that these gruesome thoughts will evaporate soon. I wait for this lull AFTER this storm.

Once my darkest moments pass, and the fog clears just a bit, I whisper the following affirmations to myself:

a. I am not alone: Knowing that others too flail against such disconcerting thoughts helps me in two ways: (a) It tells me that none of us is evil. We are just disturbed – emotionally – and can all get better together; (b) It holds my beliefs in perspective. My situation might seem completely petty to someone who is living through worse. I whine only to select people – the rest have no idea about the disquieting machinations of my mind! They don’t need to know –  they just need to feel my hugs and love and compassion.

b. I will never let my negative thoughts overpower my positive actions: Your thoughts have as much power as you give them. I admit to giving my negativity too much power, but I will never allow those disgusting emotions to taint my actions. The worse my thoughts, the kinder my actions. This motto keeps me sane.

c. My mind is dark, but my soul is not: My best friend succinctly summarized my plight after I was brutally honest about my struggles and asked her whether I was a horrible person. She said, “Kit! You are not mean. Not at all. But your mind is terribly mean to you.” There is a reason she is my best friend – the woman never fails to make me smile. Her utter faith in my inner goodness gives me hope that even the bleakest of thoughts do not have the power to tarnish my soul. I just have to be very careful to barricade my soul from enemy forces.

“There have been times when I felt suicidal and I would stop my head from going in that direction of negativity because I thought there’d be something I’d miss that was funny in the future. If there’s a chance I’m going to laugh tomorrow then want to live to experience that.” – Dave Navarro

d. I have risen before and I will rise again: Since my mid-twenties, I have been beset by one challenge after another. But I have always found a way to crawl out of my black holes. If I can defeat my woes once, I can defeat them again – and again and again and again.

e. I have something or someone to live for: When I find no reason to live for myself, I try to think of someone else who is invested in my happiness. Knowing someone cares lend me the courage to care for myself too. Knowing I have dreams that deserve my love gives me the strength to drag myself back up and continue placing one foot forward.

f. I want to be happy, think positive and sprinkle love (and laughter): Sometimes, just knowing that you WANT to get better helps the healing process. Never give up this WANT to feel better, even if you lose all hope of getting better. That WANT will imbue you with revitalizing energy to do, be and give your best.

If all else fails, I just stop thinking and pray that my good Lord escorts me to a gentler place. I trust that He won’t let me down and that He is guiding me, albeit through some twisted and tedious roads, to a place of serenity and smiles.

It is no fun being strangled by detrimental thoughts. It is no fun being entrenched in gloom. It is no fun being constricted by nastiness.

But I also know that happiness is well worth every trial, every tribulation and every trouble.

So I will continue opening my bedroom windows and letting the breeze in, hoping that tomorrow will be better.

One day, restful sleep will come.

Until then, I am prepared to grapple with my negativity. What I am NOT prepared to do is give up.

How do you deal with negative emotions, dear readers? What holds you aloft when your mind screams at you to sink?

“Your friend sent me a handwritten ‘Thank You’ note,” said my mom, sounding pleasantly surprised.

I remembered that my friend had promised to write my mum a note for gifting her a perfume.

Thinking about my sweet friend, I smiled into the phone and said, “She loves writing notes, mum.”

My mum responded, going for the jugular, “And you can’t even be bothered to return my call or send me an email”

Oops. I should have realized the direction of my mum’s thoughts.

Now, I don’t hand-write notes for a specific reason: my handwriting is pathetic. Why would I want to put others through the torture of deciphering my messy scrawls?

But I laughed and said, “A daughter should take her mum for granted. That’s her right. You should not expect such gestures from me. I bet my friend doesn’t write notes to her mum”

I heard my mum ‘tsking’ and could envision her funny pout!

“Oh, I am sure she does. She seems very sweet”, she said

I could hear the unspoken ‘unlike someone’ in her voice.

That was my cue to wrap up the call!

I made some conciliatory noises, placated my darling mum and slammed the phone in relief.

“Phew, that was close,” I whispered, reminiscing again about my lovely friend who often sends me notes of friendship, love and encouragement.

I sent my friend a quick text, gently chiding her for making me look bad. I also reminded her that she hadn’t sent me a note in ages!

We exchanged some ‘lols’ and ‘Muaahs’ and ‘love yous’.

But the morning conversation kept churning in my head and I ruminated about the value of handwritten notes.

From what I can infer, following are five benefits of handwriting a note to a loved one (or even a stranger!): 

a. It makes the recipient feel special

When my husband and I moved into our new home, we visited our neighbors just to say ‘Hello’ and offer some chocolates. One of our neighbors was not home.

The next day, we received a lengthy note of apology from them. It was completely unnecessary, but it, nonetheless, made us feel special!

My friend’s messages never fail to make me grin, dance, sing and reconnect with my passion, my dreams and my life. I screech excitedly whenever one of them pops in my mail!

I am sure you too have received handwritten notes. They could have just been some scribbled words on a greeting card, but didn’t you feel special?

This is the era of text messaging and social media updates. Most of us rarely spell out words – H.R.U and IMO sound familiar? – let alone pen handwritten notes to others. But our nonchalant disregard for words is all the more reason to write a message by hand.

Imagine how wonderful someone will feel if you go that extra mile by sending a handwritten note that says, “I care.”

b. It gives you a pause from the hustle of life

Did you sit down and do nothing today?

Yep, you read that right.

Did you sit down for even five minutes and do nothing today?

I am going to take a wild guess and say, “NO!”

We are dominated by To-Do lists. From the moment we swing our legs off the bed in the morning to the moment we swing our legs back onto the bed at night, we are in a constant state of movement. We are so consumed by making a living that we forget to live.

Handwriting a note gives you a pause from this mindless hustle. It allows you to stop, take a deep breath, think and put down your thoughts.

It is a form of meditation that will imbue you with new ideas, new energy and a new mindset. While I haven’t penned a letter in a long time, I have rediscovered the joy of putting pen to paper while ideating and making outlines for my blog posts.

There is something satisfying about connecting the nib of your pencil or pen to a paper.

c. It forms more meaningful relationships

Those who journal might relate to this.

Journaling is a handwritten message to yourself. You don’t filter, you don’t censor, you don’t edit.

You just pour yourself onto a blank piece of paper. It is an intimate transaction between you and your notebook. The mere act of seeing what you have written on paper helps you make sense of chaotic thoughts. In effect, journaling offers clarity, meaning and peace to your life.

Handwritten notes, while more polished than journal entries, also give you the courage to bare your heart. Unlike texts, video chats or even face-to-face conversations, you don’t have to worry about how your emotions will be received at that instant, which allows you to reveal your feelings with less fear and more depth.

And unfiltered truths always bring people closer.

Recently, I apologized to a loved one via Facebook messenger. Those two lines erased years of resentment and anger. I forgave that person and myself for holding onto grudges and generally making our own lives hell.

Imagine if I had written a letter to that person? Yep – our relationship would have blossomed.

d. It increases focus and sharpens your brain

I checked Facebook five times while writing this blog post. I could have turned off my Internet, but I needed to research this particular section and hence remained connected. Alas, my favorite social network is couple of clicks away and I couldn’t resist scrolling through it.

However, not once did my concentration waiver when, two hours ago, I was conducting research for an important assignment using two books, a pack of tiny post-it notes and a pen. My laptop was not in sight. I scanned through two books within an hour and now have enough information to start typing my article tomorrow morning.

Technology, as wonderful as it is, lends itself to distraction. Pen and paper, as quaint as it is, lends itself to concentration.

You don’t have multiple open tabs that scream for attention. You don’t waste an hour watching Criminal Minds just because the lead actors are hot (WHAT? I don’t do this!) . You don’t stop every five minutes to see if anyone has liked the picture of your scrumptious dinner at IHOP (WHAT? I don’t do this either!).

It’s you, your pen (or pencil) and that paper. Simple, clean and distraction-free.

I am not an expert on the science behind handwritten notes, but, from what I read, ‘finger movements activate parts of our brain’ – the Reticular Activating System (RAS) – that enhance our focus.

Also, engaging your motor-skills and memory via handwriting bolsters your creativity and hones your brain. The physical act of writing down your thoughts allows you to THINK and form connections that might otherwise be invisible. The more you utilize your brain, the stronger it becomes and the easier it becomes for you to come up with ideas!

Finally, studies have also proven that writing by hand accelerates learning because it slows you down (see (b)) and lets you absorb what you are writing.

e. It keeps you happy

This is really a cumulative effect of the above points.

When you care enough about someone to write a note by hand, you automatically feel great about yourself. Because nothing bolsters our self-esteem more than showing kindness to someone else, especially when that person least expects it.

As you write more messages and form deeper associations, your quality of life will improve. You will feel lighter at heart. Your smile will feel more natural.

Handwriting notes also provides a sense of accomplishment. I know that outlining an article by hand or just capturing random thoughts on paper reduces my dissatisfaction and increases my confidence.

When you feel good about yourself, you are bound to BE happier.

So, yeah, I am going to test my own theories by handwriting a note of admiration to that loved one (from Facebook), my bad handwriting be damned. My gut tells me that this act will revitalize our relationship. Meanwhile, maybe I can show my mom some extra-love too! Really, what have I got to lose, eh?

Over to you, friends. Do you write messages by hand? What are some other benefits of handwriting notes of love? Thanks for engaging with me.