Letting The Mind Breathe

I began these mindful drawings in a fragile, unsettled state of mind. My thoughts felt scattered, restless, overlapping, too many at once. So I picked up colours and let them move without planning, without forcing sense or structure. I didn’t try to control the flow; I let the flow carry me. As the colours settled, so did parts of me.

While doing this, a thought stayed with me: Is this even anything? Later, that thought came back through others. Some asked, “What kind of painting is this?” Some said, “It has no meaning.” Some looked longer, trying to extract logic, trying to name it, trying to make sense of it. Others simply found it beautiful.

I noticed how familiar this felt. How people always want to define, label, approve, or dismiss. How art becomes a mirror for their own need to understand or control. And I realised, this is not new. This is human nature.

But this wasn’t made for explanation. It was made for survival. For breathing. For letting my scattered thoughts land somewhere gentle

I don’t need everyone to understand it. I don’t need to defend it. People may say so many different things. They always will. And what we need to do is to continue to do what we do, quietly, honestly, and with care! That’s enough!

And somehow, in the midst of all this, these paintings reside in a foreign land, resting there with a grace that still surprises me!

#roksanatales

Residing Happily, In Tokyo, Japan

Behind her Sunglasses

She has always loved wearing sunglasses …

As a teenager, she would watch her sisters tilt their faces toward the light, their lashes casting long shadows over eyes that shimmered with beauty. When she looked in the mirror, her own eyes seemed smaller, plainer, framed by short lashes. It stung her heart a little, like a tiny splinter she couldn’t quite pull out …

Over time, she began to reclaim them. She traced deep kajol along her lids, soft & dark, like ink drawing a doorway. Her eyes lookd wider, more alive. People began to say she looked striking, and for the first time, her eyes felt truly hers …

Then life changed. Grief came quietly, like water filling a low space. In her reflection, she noticed it, the sparkle that once danced in her eyes had turned gentler, dimmer, like smoke fading after a flame. Her eyes began to carry stories of long nights and silent endurance. She didn’t always want others to read them …

So she reached for her sunglasses. The cool plastic rested against her temples, the tinted lenses washed the world in sepia. It felt like drawing a curtain over a window. Behind them, she had privacy. No one could see the sadness flicker and ask, “Are you okay?” …

She’s learned something through this little ritual, and that is, sometimes covering up isn’t vanity; it’s survival. The layers we wear, sunglasses, kajol, even a careful smile, are small stitches tht hold us togther until we’re ready to heal …

Sometimes, she still wonders: what would it feel like to step into the light barefaced, to let her eyes tell their truth, and to trust the world not to look away?

#roksanatales


Her eyes carry stories the world is not
yet ready to read

I♥️

Resilience

Winds scatter her thoughts
Wild, aching, yet full of fire
She blooms in soft light …

#roksanatales

Hope

Blooms glow …
Hope is in petals bright
Nature promises in breeze …

#roksanatales

Part of my morning rituals are spent in my little varandah garden! It refreshes me …. Love the sound of the chirping birds, the warm light, smell of the wind and greens and flowers … Some days I read here with a glass of warm honey water and some days a cup of tea … with a little conversation … These days are Ramadan days, the most blessed days and I’m healing from my broken finger …. I hope it’ll be alright soon … and everything too

Hope …

Let the blooms bring hope …

Oubaitori

Lost, found, blooms anew …
Mountains stand in silent strength …
Far, but near, a song unfolds …

Oubaitori/ japanese
(n.) the idea that people, like flowers, bloom in their own time and in their individual ways ….

A remarkable day today, A Monday! Je t’aime comme tu es ….

I♥️

#roksanatales

Blooming

One day you will look back and see that all along, you were blooming

Morgan Harper Nichols

Bloom

Choose what helps your heart bloom

Dhiman

Silent Poetry – A Painting

Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is a painting that speaks.

Plutarch

#roksanatales #JianBirdGallery❄️ #JianBirdCreates