$$ May 2022 $$

When I was a tiny kid, my mom, as patient as humanly possible, spent many, many months trying to teach me how to tie my shoelaces. She tried to simplify it as much as possible, tried to demo it step by step, but I could never learn. I just could not wrap my head around how it happened and how I was supposed to make it happen. Then, inevitably, she gave up. She’d tie my laces every morning, and then I’d be left to the kindness of my friends who would tie them whenever they would come undone. My friend Gari would spot my shoelaces undone and without me having to ask her, she would stop during walks and during classes to tie them for me, never judging me.

Then, one day during my sophomore year of college — now without Gari around to tie my laces for me — I sat down and tried to create a flower out of my laces. I had heard a lot of chatter about a certain “flower knot”. So I tried, and it worked. Ever since then, every knot I have tied has been a flower knot. Whether that’s my laces, a string, a parcel’s top... anything. It surely isn’t the best, I end up having to tie my shoelaces a couple of times every time I head out. But, honestly, I’m just glad that I know how to tie them on my own, finally, at 25. I figured it out, rather randomly. On my own time.

Then during the summer of 4th grade, my dad tried to teach me how to ride a bicycle, as dads do. He was as patient as dad-ly possible, you know? Day after day, he would start by supporting me as I rode the bicycle. Then as soon as he’d let go, I would tumble like a rock. No balance at all. He even sat me down and explained what he was doing with his legs to balance it, hoping I’d be able to copy him. He really wanted me to learn it and he, even more so, wanted to be the one who taught me how. As you could perhaps guess, it didn’t work. I just could not wrap my head around how it happened and how I was supposed to make it happen.

Then one day, the same summer, he lost his patience and decided he’d not teach me anymore. We were a couple of kms away from home, I knew my way around, and he said, “I’m leaving, you bring the cycle back home”. I was scared. But, I don’t know why I decided to just hop on the cycle and try one more time. “Astha, one foot under one peddle, one atop the other. Push it forward, and keep your backbone straight like a string under tension. You’ll balance. Okay?” I tried that a few times, and like magic, it worked. I am amazed to this day that it actually worked. I cycled back home. Dad was surprised. He didn’t say much. He’s never been good with words. But I could finally cycle, and it felt so good. I figured it out, rather randomly. On my own time.

This morning, during my cab ride to the airport I noticed my mind steering towards these memories. A probable reason is perhaps that I have been having a tough time lately trying to figure something out: the business of being a feeling and thinking human. It’s a difficult one, I tell you. I have been feeling like I am saying the wrong things, and I am talking too much, and I am being too hyperactive, and that… I need to… calm down.

I am always, deeply anxious. I have always been. Too full of too many dreams, too full of too much hope, too full of too much energy, too many questions, too much love, too many ambitions. But also too many anxieties, too many troubles, too many distractions, too many conflicts, too many knots, too much being lost. I am so deeply human it amazes and disappoints me at the same time. I thought I could be all the good “too much”, without having to be any of the bad “too much”. But I guess, that’s my fallibility. My very human fallibility.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been reading any and all blogs I can find, listening to every possible podcast, talking to people — a lot of them — with this looming question in the background. I’m sure people can sense it, I’m sure they know that I’m trying to seek something. The answer to a question: “How can I learn to co-exist with myself — with the good “too much” and the bad “too much? Without it becoming too much to take for me?”

And in my seeking this answer, I was beginning to get a little disheartened over the last few weeks. I think that’s why my head resurfaced these memories, as a tiny reminder that this seemingly scary business of being a feeling and thinking human? I’ll figure it out, rather randomly. On my own time. And so will you. :))

<aside> 🥰 here is a little bit about me. and if you’d like you can buy me a coffee here.

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