It’s time; time
to write. I didn’t write for days. Does it count to write to my diary? Maybe
doesn’t. I am waiting for some inspiration. In Turkish we have the term of “Inspiration
angel.” Seems like my angel is far far away from me…
Feels like
something is missing but I know that isn’t.
Here I sit, trying to write, at the same time watching the pigeon at the
balcony which is eating leaves of the flower, kites fly on the sky. While
people are sharing snow photos and freezing in my country, I sit outside. Sun
is burning my face but a light breeze cools it down. There is nothing that I
have to do. Everything is just perfect.
Problem is we
are not used to do ‘nothing’. Seems like we programmed to do something every
single moment that given to us. God forbid if we have little bit spare time! We
don’t know what to do with it, feel uncomfortable. What would you do on your
spare times; read, write, watch, walk, wait for inspiration? Is there a term of
‘doing nothing’ on your dictionary?
I am not at
ease and I think I know why. We are used to live on our comfort zones.
Sometimes I am brave enough to get out of there. I quit my job not so long
ago to do the only things matters to me; like travelling, yoga, and writing. It
is incredible how quick human beings are adapting to new conditions. It is a
blessing and a curse at the same time. I am about to leave the place which have
been home for me over a month and here I am again, realizing the new comfort
zone that I created for myself in a short time. I know it is time to leave. I
am excited about the new places I’ll see still feel uncomfortable about leaving
it.
There are
long term issues too. My mind is full of thoughts; wants to be sure about the
things which can’t be sure of. Life is unpredictable, right? That is the beauty
of it but tell about it to my mind. I
don’t know if I’ll be alive next moment but he wants to calculate years of
later. How to avoid be slave of him; meditation, yoga? Oh yeah, now I
understand why is it like that, didn’t practice yoga for two days. He never
misses the chance.
What if I
come to the moment? Nothing is wrong with this moment and this moment is the
only thing that counts on our lives. I can be aware of the things around me.
Rickshaw noises and horns are coming from the street, Coldplay is playing at
background, imam is calling for pray from mosque, and here pigeons come back
again to balcony. Ray of sun comes on the knife on table and reflects to the wall,
painting of whirling dervish enlightens immediately.
This is my
first writing in English. My mind is worrying about grammar and everything, I
don’t give a damn. It is such a perfect day…
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