"I want a new perfume, something that will captivate my senses, that will turn my mind away from the low murky sky, and travel to a blooming Paris. Nevertheless, from anything French today, I’ve spent an afternoon on a patio of a local patisserie. I was sitting there, wrapped into a wool coat, warming up under unordinary generous March sunlight, with a cup of black coffee."
I have been absent and reticent on pretty much every social media source that I used to enjoy filling up with my presence. This strange, no longer awkward hesitation to post, share, publish, dragged me much deeper than I thought and instead of creating content just to stick to a schedule, with no heart in it, I postponed. I remember last year my mind trembled from a load of ideas and my body from enthusiasm. New projects that I finally had extra time for were completed in a matter of days. Words were flowing, catching up with imagination, and all I had to do was to write them down.
It is quite opposite now. Used to new repetitive patterns of days, my mind seeks glimpses of excitement in any small thing it can find. But, instead of expressing them as vividly as they used to be, I find myself storing those moments, waiting for something large and worthy to reveal from it. With those gradual changes in my mind, and approach to creativity, to work routine I wanted to speak about connection to the surrounding and connection to oneself.
I can not say that a new person developed from frankly abnormal circumstances that started last year. I also can not say I stayed the same. However, I catch myself staring at unworn blazers, dresses and cashmere sweaters in my closet and wonder if their turn will ever come back. I wonder if one who used to dream boldly, plan actively will ever experience the same eagerness thrive for active living again, without fear of something preventing it. Now, do not get me wrong. As I said before, my mind does marvellous things; it seeks God’s presence in things like melting snow, my baby's kicking in the womb, embrace of my husband in the morning, ability to see, read and write, and in the knowledge that family members are healthy and well. But, time after time, when I look at evidence of my past life, I wonder who am I now.
I never aimed to claim people, myself included, according to a certain status. There is a strong belief in me that going through life we acquire new roles, we emerge, flourish, fall, experience and develop new skills, and that flow does not stop until death. Thus, I avoid assigning a specific, only one role to myself. A writer. A wife. A mother in the near future. That all makes sense on paper as I see those words typed out. However, when I am left alone with those roles, it does not matter how marvellous they are, they fade out. It appears to me as if we disconnect for a moment. My question is if I identify myself so strongly with one of those or all roles, would I then disconnect from myself as a whole?
All those clothes that I can not wait to have more events to wear, they also, and that might sound contradicting, remind me of times and that part of myself where I spent too much time planning who I was and who I wanted to become. Not that it is wrong to plan, or observe yourself as a certain type of society member. However, when something bigger than a collection of shoes comes into the life of a person, one starts observing it as a ridiculous habit to keep collecting when there are no occasions to wear them. Throughout the whole year, I was back and forth with connecting with my past self and disconnecting again, depending on a job situation and new restrictions. Yet, time after time, it became much easier to avoid assigning a grand purpose to blazers and the number of clothes I had.
Therefore, I want to answer my question positively, and that is why moments of solitude, keep reminding me of forgetting specific titles I carry and connect to the only infinite source, to God.