When people ask, with curiosity, what I do all day, I usually smile and reply, ‘Nothing much.’ It is a convenient answer, simple, unprovocative, and often enough to satisfy the questioner. The conversation moves on, and so does life
But the truth is far fuller
Much of my day unfolds inside a creative bubble. It is a space where ideas are constantly forming, dissolving, and reshaping themselves. I move from one thought to another, from making to unmaking, from observing to imagining. This kind of work rarely announces itself loudly. There are no fixed hours, no visible milestones, no obvious outputs that can be easily measured or displayed
In a world that often values productivity by numbers and material outcomes, such labour can appear weightless, almost invisible. Creative work is frequently compared to financial gain, and when it does not immediately translate into income, it is easily misunderstood or undervalued. Yet the rewards it offers are profound: a sense of purpose, inner clarity, emotional resilience, and the satisfaction of creating something meaningful from within
That said, it would be dishonest to romanticise creativity as something detached from real-world needs. Financial independence matters. It matters for everyone, and artists are no exception. The ability to sustain oneself lends dignity, stability, and freedom to any form of work, creative or otherwise. Passion alone cannot replace the need for security, nor should it be expected to
Perhaps the gap lies not in the work itself, but in how we perceive it. Not all labour is loud. Not all effort leaves visible footprints. Some of the most valuable work happens in silence, slowly, patiently, and away from public validation
To say ‘nothing much’ is easier. But in reality, it is a life silently lived in attention, imagination, and continuous becoming. And that, too, is work, deep, deliberate, and very real
Light pours in like a gentle guest She stands where warmth meets wonder Paint in her hand, soft power in her stance The table glows with quiet intention Each colour catching a piece of the day …
Let Go, and Let Bloom Mindful Drawing Moments by Jian Bird Creates
It’s so satisfying to host sessions like Mindful Drawing Moments’ – what began on a quiet day with a simple act of curiosity. I invited a few willing souls to join me in the pattern artworks I usually create to calm my mind and return to myself. One participant became two, and slowly, word spread. That’s how ‘Mindful Drawing Moments’ was born: gently, organically, like something blooming in its own time …
Since then, these sessions have become spaces where self-help and creativity meet. Through themes like Kaizen, Kintsugi, Manifestation, Self-Love, and Mindfulness, each gathering offers more than just art, it becomes a mirror, a soft release, a shared breath …
Our recent sessions, themed ‘Let Go and Let Bloom,’ invited participants to reflect through drawing wildflowers, free, untamed, purposeful. Dried flowers from my mother’s garden were placed on the table, not just for beauty, but as a quiet symbol: that even after loss or struggle, something fragile and meaningful can still remain …
The way the participants picked up color, poured their thoughts into shapes, and shared reflections was deeply moving. There was no pressure to be an artist, only an invitation to be present …
We began with simple prompts, one that echoed was: ‘Never mind what they’. Almost all said: ‘think’. And so the letting go began …
From releasing judgment to choosing kindness, from holding space for others to forgiving ourselves, each voice in the circle added something honest and real. The drawings bloomed with color, but more importantly, so did the people …
The session closed with open hearts and softened edges. And with each event, Jian Bird Creates now offers a Certificate of Participation, a small reminder that showing up for yourself is something to honor …
Today, I poured watercolours onto the paper. I didn’t control the flow. I just let them move, soft, wild, honest …
It felt like life. Sometimes, it makes no sense. But still, I move with it. I let it run through me. I follow what feels true, even if no one else understands it …
Nothing made sense today. Nothing went as planned. But I chose to go anyway. Go right. Go forward. Go my way …
Because even when nothing goes right, I can still go right … In my own way …
She walked slowly, But now she walks even slower …
She talked freely with the right person, But now She barely talks at all …
She mingled happily with her best friend, But now She avoids everyone …
She expressed herself openly, But now She keeps everything inside …
She used to dream of the stars But now She barely looks at the sky …
She used to dance in the rain But now She stays inside, dry …
She used to laugh with abandon But now Her smiles are rare and shy …
She used to sing her heart out But now Her voice is just a whisper …
She used to chase after adventures But now She hesitates to even try …
She used to believe in magic But now Her wonder seems to die …
She lost her beloved, her heart’s anchor, Now she drifts, untethered and forlorn …
Grief has woven shadows in her days, And joy, once bright, feels tattered and torn …
#roksanatales
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Ya’ Aburnee/ arabic (n.) lit. ‘may you bury me’ a declaration of one’s hope that they’ll die before another person because of how unbearable it would be to live without them
I have a fondness for breaking apart A fascination with the fragile The delicate dance of hearts Walking unsteadily on the edge … In love …
I have a fondness for breaking apart At times it seems Love’s other name is Broken hearts … An echo of longing … A symphony of cracks …
I have a fondness for breaking apart In love, I find A beauty in the fracture, In the spaces … Where light seeps through the wounds Where the raw and the real collide In a blaze of truth and tenderness …
I have a fondness for breaking apart It’s a mosaic of Shattered dreams Pieced together with hope … A courage of feeling The audacity of connection …
I have a fondness For the breaking … For the way love demands vulnerability … For the way it strips us bare … For the way all its flaws are revealed I have a fondness For my unguarded heart Breaking apart …
For in the breaking, We find the depth of love The resilience of the beautiful soul … The beauty of a heart That dares to love Even knowing it might break … That’s how I have a fondness For breaking apart …
In puzzled ponder, a name I’ve heard Though “Roksana” my soul preferred … Yet as time passed by A fondness did arise Love’s influence moves my heart … Let the name be my tender song In love’s embrace, I truly belong …
Restless I feel … My heart aches deeply … He captivates my heart …
My thoughts are scattered … Right now … Oh dear! I continually shatter my heart, Dispersing its fragments Until they touch The depths of your being, My beloved …
A university degree, four books, and hundreds of articles and I still make mistakes when reading, You write to me “good morning” and I read it as, “I love you” …
A sip of tea, And a glance That we exchanged , Sitting at a quiet cafe, Where our stories blossomed … Two strangers, Just so world apart … Yet here we met Beneath the cozy ambiance, And our hearts beat – A strangely warm tune …
With every swirl of steam With every stir of sugar – The fragrant brew gradually becomes A well-woven fantasy … As we shared our tales …
There’s a bridge between us, As we sip and shared… No need to fuss though … Each word a melody Each sip a dance In this tea date We found romance ….
Time passes Paths diverge From distant lands or Just down the street For in this simple rendezvous, Our soul found A connection so profound …
A self-portrait captured In the window’s reflection … Streets refreshed, cars in repose, As the breeze sweeping by … Your absence is there deep within, Even in the hustle of life … A smile graces my lips in this bustling race Thinking of you …. Contemplating …. Life carries me well forward With an unconditional love for you …
#roksanatales
Agape/ greek (n.) The highest form of love. Selfless, sacrificial and unconditional love; persists no matter the circumstance …
Do you realize the depth of my longing, the relentless ache for your words that consumes me day after day?
As time slips away, I find myself bereft of the anticipation that you’ll come to me with your thoughts woven into words …
Every passing day feels like an eternity, a solitary bird yearning for the life-giving touch of rain …
I yearn for you incessantly, akin to a tearful child yearning for the comforting embrace of its mother …
My wait for you echoes the patience of a patient seeking their cure …
Do you understand the extent of my yearning, how it wraps around me like a heavy fog, casting shadows of melancholy and confusion?
You are a constant presence, flowing like a river, your thoughts swirling within me, sometimes quietly, always tumultuously …
I ache for you, as if my very spirit is on a quest to find you, while my physical self remains anchored in the depths of my heart, waiting …
I long for the days filled with twinkling moments shared between us, each one a precious gem amidst the vast expanse of time .
#roksanatales
Wonderwall (n.) someone you can’t stop yourself thinking about all the time; the person you’re completely infatuated with …
According to Gallagher, Wonderwall‘ describes ‘an imaginary friend who’s gonna come and save you from yourself; a source of support and strength; a soulmate …
Often these days My thoughts are spreading out to you With too many questions hovering upon me.. Is the heat too intense where you dwell? Are you navigating it with ease? What’s the moisture like in your realm? What’s the humidity level there? I sense the weariness in your words; It seems like a struggle for you; Are you truly alright?
Here, we’re also dealing with scorching heatwaves – Yet, amidst the swelter, my mind wanders to you How do you cope up in this relentless weather? Often these days It crosses my mind …
Do you think of me too, Sometimes?
Do you remember my disdain for humidity, And how it worsens my headaches …. Do you remember my aversion to doctors, Yet now they’re an inevitable part of life?
My heart, already broken by your absence, Feels the toll of days passing … I find myself overthinking, Lost in thoughts of you, Especially in these days, Days of relentless heat, Days of suffocating humidity ….
Though You may never grasp … There’s an essence about you that I can’t shake Even amidst these sweltering heatwaves … A grip on me akin to The greatest tale left untold …
So,
Could you narrate an episode or two from your journey? Could you paint a tale of your eccentric existence? Could you recount an experience For me? To me? In these sweltering heat Amidst the scorching waves there? …
Meanwhile Take care, my dear, Know that I pray for you … In every moment In every humid day and night Of these days ….
Yours truly ^^
#roksanatales
I do drink lots of water in these scorching conditions. I do keep my body cool. Though I hate to use sunscreen, just I avoid sunburn. I do like coconut water a lot. And Nimbu Pani too ☺️. Then I love ice cream too 🤷🏿♀️
She paints grace In glowing yellow … As the brush-strokes Softly glide through her skin … Hers is a delicate face Soothing and serene; Tread with a gentle touch In colors unseen .. That yellow color girl In tranquil pose .. She’s a grace …
#roksanatales
Yellow is my favourite color … which color do you like most?
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
Most days, when it’s Friday, I remember that on such one Friday I entered his city, and he didn’t show up …
Do you know what I was thinking when I stepped out of the airport? I never been to this airport and unfortunately I was going to stay only the night at his city ….
Our hotel cars were outside the airport. We girls got into the cars and the car was passing through the airport road to get to the city centre … the full moon was racing with us, I was watching it through the car window …with my wandering heartbeats on …
I wanted to believe that he will be there to surprise me. So without any contact with him, I was still hoping that I may see him in there at the hotel lobby and for that I was feeling a bit nervous, ‘What if he actually comes!? Should I go outside to grab coffee with him as he wanted to take me out for a coffee, or should I ask him to have dinner at the hotel restaurant as it was already late because of the delayed flight. We won’t get time for a coffee break somewhere else.’ – to be honest I was feeling very nervous too. And more importantly, I needed to give him the gifts that I’ve been carrying throughout my whole trip,… So I needed to unpack my luggage!”
“Oh no! That would be a mess!” – I was thinking about all these in my mind …
Then we reached the hotel. The lobby was normal with less people. I looked around a little bit more. “Was there any face that was searching someone?” – I was looking here and there and was thinking about this – “Oh! better if he doesn’t come now.” As if I can recognise him. I never saw him even. How stupid and pathetic I was! I was thinking, ‘I want to freshen up first and then I’ll be coming down again for dinner, and may be by that time he would come and I may offer him dinner Dosa at the hotel restaurant’ … I still can’t believe that I was thinking all of these even without any confirmation from him to meet me here! Feeling too much angry at myself ….
However, after the hotel formalities were done, we went up to our room and then I came down with my travel mate and by that time I grew a feeling of no expectation that he would come. ‘If I expect, it’s going to hurt me. It’s alright’ – I was thinking to make myself feel better and now I’m waiting for my dosa with an expectation of having a good dinner, because I was so hungry by that time through so many things and all of these unsure traumas …
Unfortunately -A delayed flight disappointed me … -‘He’ disappointed me (He didn’t come. He didn’t confirm he would come though. Still I felt disappointed as if it’s all his fault…. ) -Dosa disappointed me (I was so hungry and I was craving dosa, but it was a disaster)
Now what?
A dilemma …
To keep or not to keep the gift packet at the reception desk!
My poor little handmade gifts for him, and few other things – should I keep my gift packet for him to pick later on when he gets to know that I was at his city and about all of these!
Poor me and my surprise gifts!
Wish he would know how brave it was for me to accept his coffee date for sometime in the middle of the night …
It won’t make sense if he never comes and by that time I started having headaches. I must sleep for sometime, and so I did, having a medicine …
It was 3 AM in the morning, again our cars were on the road of his city to reach the airport. This time I took some videos of the road as a memory of the city.
Long ago when the young girl in me visited this city, she was a carefree young girl who didnt know what does disappointment means! At that time she treasured the memory of visiting the famous amusement park with her siblings – it was full of fun, laughter and pure innocent joy. That time she left the city with delightful memories.
Now she’s leaving the city with the gift she so lovingly brought here for someone she never met before, but whom she thought she knew for a long time ….
This time she was innocent too, as her feelings were so deep and true, but she didn’t understand why she would be disappointed for someone who didn’t even know about the gifts she’s been carrying for him.
But for what reason, she was upset – she didn’t understand though she’s not a carefree young girl anymore …
But she was upset, confused and disoriented because now she was carrying the gifts to bring back home and carrying a strange unknown heart leaving a bit of her heart in this dark city!
Dark, because she entered it with a strange unknown feeling and it was nighttime though the moon was there (a relief to my eyes) and dark, because her heart was broken for a completely unknown, strange, unspecified reason so she was in denial for long …
It was a Friday night entering his city and on the morning of Saturday my flight took off from his city …
So on Fridays, most times it reminds me of that Friday when I was in his city, and he didn’t show up …
A delusion!
#roksanatales
It’s a long post. I’m sorry for that. If you’ve read the whole story, thank you and tell me if you’ve ever felt the same? Or any instance that you might have felt ….
I wear hijab. But she doesn’t like that. So she drew me without the scarf. She asked me if my hair is long, short or medium. Accordingly she tried to draw. She even marked my dimple and so she drew two dimples on the cheeks. But I’ve one dimple on my cheek. She has love for me and so she drew heart ❤️ in her dress to show that she loves me.
She forgot to draw the nose on her drawing and at the end of the class, she looked at the whiteboard as I was giving thanks for her sweet effort, and there she suddenly said, ‘Oh no! Where’s your nose?’ And she quickly gave a dot on the face.
Isn’t it cute?
I took a picture of it to keep it as a precious memory.
Steam swirls, Chaotic warmth in coffee cup, Awake, senses grace, within ….
#roksanatales
Humepenthe/ made up (n.) someone who makes you forget er your pain and sorrow; someone with whom you forget all your worries ….
Humepenthe is a made up word (@cosmosbyrudra) made with combination of human + nepenthe which human form of a drug which was given to people to forget or lessen their pain and suffering in ancient time ….
The shadow cast On that starless skies, Where murmurs linger, Subdued goodbyes … A tune of melancholy’s song, In thy heart where echoes long …
Oh this melancholy, My silent guest, A tear-stained story, unspoken, and so blessed The weight of contemplation In shades of gray, In twilight hours, grips its sway …
A canvas painted with dull hues, A whirlwind of memories, tattered and bruised … Through hazy veils of nostalgic dreams, The world in silent sadness gleams …
A poet’s pen on pages bare, Twisted verses of a sincere prayer … Thy melancholy’s tender art, Nothing but a symphony of hurting heart …
Yet, in the depth of still despair, Belongs a beauty, rare and fair … A gentle solace for the mind In the shadow of the ancient find …
So let the tears of misery flow Like mists on a window’s glow … For in melancholy’s gentle grace There lies a balm for life’s embrace …
Roksana Tales 