Window

Two days into crossing the threshold of a new and foreign territory of a year, I'm feeling a wave of intricate feelings as acute as when I'd first realised that being 22 meant that personal responsibility had become more and more apparent in the inevitable growing up process. It has dawned upon me, even as I try to mindfully gather my scattered thoughts in this late night account of my reflection of the year, that the past 365 days had gone by in a blink of an eye, and that no matter how I'd like to think that it was simply a year for me to breathe, it proved to be more than just that; something even better. Sometimes I wish my heart were made of a stronger sense of will and healing, and to completely devote the year to doing exactly that brought me to places I'd never thought I'd actually visit. It was comforting to heal. It was even more relieving that I was able to take a few steps back from where I was previously to take a break from pursuing things which I thought were things I could simply not let go of. There was an urgent need for breathing space; everything that I had ideally expected to happen before led to a series of crushed dreams and crumbled wishful thinking, it was as if God knew I needed to reach a destination so badly and yet He put in place a dozen sets of traffic lights for me to stop, and regain control of the state I was in before I would actually accelerate on speed to wherever it was I thought I needed to rush to. The penultimate red light that demarcated 2013 from 2014 gave me the pause that I needed to categorise my reality in one box and my ideal hopes in another, and it was then that I'd acknowledged the fact that life is most beautiful when you don't plan it to the T, and it is the detours and roadblocks which sidetrack you to the most amazing parts of your orthodox straight-line journey.

What I've come to know from a year of being absolutely still, is that sometimes life will not spring surprises at you, and the dangerous levels of expectation you may have about it may just come back with a rage, casting all sorts of doubts and questions that you'd soon harbour and bring to your place of self-blame. I cannot emphasise more on how the year that I took on investing in certain situations actually became harvested in places that eventually bore more fruit and resistance in my life, and the amount of clarity that set in which made all that stopping and waiting a little bit more worthwhile. The reality is that time is precious yet dearly elusive, and the fact that you feel that having to take a year off to focus on what is truly important may feel like a complete waste of it, but I'd say - while you can, and while you're still driving towards a far-off destination that you're finding yourself hastily speeding to, appreciate your brakes and apply them for a little while, and see if it makes a difference if any in redefining your concept of time and ideals. Growing up surely hasn't been the easiest of things, even more so when I found myself jumping from the younger, fiery streak of being 21 to perhaps a more delicate beam of maturity, and it takes a sense of acceptance and vulnerability to admit that time is once again not on my side, but if I make it to be, and if I quit using it as a restrictive measure in life, look what good can come out of it.