I came across the idea of Swedish death cleaning today, and it stayed with me longer than I expected. Not because of the word death, that part feels inevitable and oddly neutral, but because of the tenderness behind the idea: easing the weight for those we love …
Margareta Magnusson writes about sorting not as an ending, but as an act of care. A way of saying, I see you. I don’t want to leave you overwhelmed. That makes sense to me. Deep sense …
Sorting through a person’s life after they are gone is a herculean task. Grief itself already bends the spine; belongings can make it heavier. Each object asks a question: Should I keep this? What did it mean to them? Am I dishonouring them if I let it go? I wouldn’t want my family to carry that weight on top of their sorrow …
The biggest declutter I dream of is invisible, yet massive: millions of photographs. Faces, skies, meals, moments, saved out of love, fear of forgetting, or the hope that one day they’ll matter again. I wonder if they will feel like treasures… or burdens. Perhaps it’s not about deleting everything, but about choosing what truly tells a story …
Then there are my words. Countless musings, half-written thoughts, simple musings, & reflections stored away for “someday.” I imagine my grandchildren, & great grandchildren, curious, gentle readers, finding joy not in everything I ever wrote, but in the pieces where my voice is clearest. Maybe my task is not to preserve all my words, but to organise them with intention, like letters rather than clutter …
And the coins. Oh, the coins! Little metallic memories gathered from here and there. Each one once felt like a discovery, a moment of wonder. I don’t want to lose that magic, but I also don’t want them to become meaningless weight in a drawer. Perhaps they deserve a story, a frame, a reason to exist beyond accumulation …
Magnusson says you don’t have to be old to begin. Even in your thirties, when drawers no longer close and closets resist you, it’s already time. I like that permission. It takes death out of the centre and places living there instead …
I don’t know how far away I am from the end, and maybe that doesn’t matter. What matters is this: decluttering feels less like letting go, and more like choosing what love looks like when I’m no longer here …
For now, I will begin gently. Not with fear. With care.
#roksanatales
a vision board of decluttering and organising things in an aesthetic style
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!
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
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 …
You cannot save anyone. You can be present with them, offer your groundedness, your sanity, your peace. You can even share your path with them, offer your perspective. But you cannot take away their pain. You cannot walk their path for them. You cannot give answers that are right for them, or even answers they can digest right now. They will have to find their own answers.
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” …
Desires unmet, dreams fade Yet, gratitude fills the heart Finding joy in what we have …
#roksanatales
Discovering happiness doesn’t always involve fulfilling your desires.; it’s about cherishing what you already possess and expressing gratitude for it …
Finding Joy in life’s simple yet priceless pleasures, like
-relishing solitude at home -preparing homemade meals -writing letters in such era of emojis and instant messaging -engaging in agenda less conversations with loved ones -spreading joy with smiles and laughter -lighting fragrant candles -tending to plants, and -expressing ‘I love you’ selflessly and unconditionally -coming back to home by walking and appreciating the friendly neighbourhood and the beautiful surroundings with greenery and flower blossoming
And many more of such things ….
Please do share some of your small moments in which you find joy ….
I reconnected with that girl anew – Who once embraced life fully … Who danced with every step and radiated joy Whose eyes were some sunflowers, blooming And whose soul ignited fireworks, dazzling …
I played music for that girl again … In hopes that its melody would ignite her spirit within Creating a haven for her to emerge from the shadows And dance once more under the stars …
Knowing that she would find solace within these moments With each sunset painted in hues of gold And each gentle breeze whispering Through the trees …. I hoped to create a sanctuary where she could feel safe enough to reveal herself once again …
Deep within, I felt her presence stirring, A flicker of recognition amidst the silence … Longing for my kindness and effort that shimmered with possibility I vowed to nurture her return To guide her back into the light Where she rightfully belonged .. She belonged to the poetry within her …
#roksanatales
Little Roksana
The pic is from the archive of memories of a young girl; another of her mirror image. She was travelling by train, from Kolkata to Delhi ….
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 …
In strokes of paints and words My soul opens up inviting you to breathe life into my world … Yet you missed the essence, and The depth of my art … Only once though … yet The entire ordeal leaves me to ponder, and Torn apart …
Do you feel the echo of my heart’s despair? Or does indifference cloak the air? It matters not, for distance now weaves its sway, As I journey on, far from yesterday’s bay …
Though you missed my art’s embrace, Let its sigh lingers, finding their place … Somewhere within you … As you hold it close to your being in time to come Let its essence, eternal, be freeing … Let my art reside, As a silent companion … As a comforting guide …. As a cherished part of me …
May it dwell Within you, So I may live on forever through my art With you …
#roksanatales
I love my Jian Bird Creates journey … it’s a journey of creativity and joy and resilience of a lot more than you could ever think of …
Forget Me Not
Avenoir/ latin (n.) the desire to see memories in advance or desire that memory could flow backward …
Reflect on ‘Who are you going to be’ From ‘What are you going to do? ….
You know you want to do right things. Then if you know who you are going to be, then You’ll choose to be KIND in whatever you do.
It is said, ‘“If you have the choice between being right and being kind, choose being kind”, a quote taken from American philosopher, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer.
This quote makes me think about the impact of kindness on other people’s lives …
Consciously choose to be kind …
#roksanatales
Just was getting ready to take a picture in front of Buddha Dordenma Statue but the click was done just like that! So an untimely mistake of a moment gone by – captured … but they say nothing is untimely … everything happens at its own pace and in its own time …
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 ….
What if it all works out? What if you get that call? What if today goes unexpectedly well? What if you have what it takes? What if you meet someone unexpectedly? What if today you make the day best with what you have? What if someone is praying for you? What if you receive that one mail? What if someone has special feelings for you? What if someone tells you that? What if you go on that trip with someone for a day or two? What if the trip takes you to another state of mind? What if you return with a complete different state of heart? What if you do not know what’s next? What if the best is yet to come? What if great things are on the way? What if you don’t search for any answer? What if the answer is within you?
I love all the ‘What ifs’ … What ifs’ give me hope …
What broke your heart so bad That you had to close every door, That you say you have a dark soul And can’t utter the word ‘love’ anymore?
Sanhita Baruah
Quite heartbroken wounded words these are, yet so beautifully expressed, I think. So I sharedwith you all …
I loved these lines so much that I even tried to recite in my naive voice. About the recording and my voice, I think I sound too childish, and that makes me feel nervous about it. It might sound boring to some, and it’s a bit dramatic also, as if I was actually telling you …
Ma Belle! Live upon the moonlit skies, The place of hope and butterflies …. Be well pleased with your passionate eyes; Be right there…. And stare at the Gods with proud gaze Be praised and praise …
Ma Belle! You roundly speaker, When you see any betrayal, Don’t you shed tears ….. You get going, keeping head high Without any fear …
Ma Belle! Let all the new faces play, With the tricks they sure will; Let all those pass away… You be calm, quiet and still; If these be right Of day and night, You be chilled and chill.
Ma Belle! Those images that may Gather all the talk of doom, But you think not of a single evil chance; Play out all of your dream so fair, With the host of the air You be heard and hear and dance …
Ma Belle! Until imagination brought It was only a thought, But keep your integrity … Let it be for what it is; They were dead and of a different kind, You be weighed lightly and just don’t mind …
Ma Belle! Pull down the blinds in pride, You be in your country-side; Where the sky falls kissing the earth, On the balance of the wind….. You take a lovely ride Like a new smiling bride ….
Ma Belle! My sweet little Belle! You be known for the care you give And discover the forgotten truth; Your heart is your heart what it should be, That hasn’t changed in years from youth …
Without solitude, Love will not stay long by your side.
Because Love needs to rest, so that it can journey through the heavens and reveal itself in other forms.
Without solitude, no plant or animal can survive, no soil can remain productive, no child can learn about life, no artist can create, no work can grow and be transformed.
Solitude is not the absence of Love, but its complement.
Solitude is not the absence of company, but the moment when our soul is free to speak to us and help us decide what to do with our life.
Therefore, blessed are those who do not fear solitude, who are not afraid of their own company, who are not always desperately looking for something to do, something to amuse themselves with, something to judge.
If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself.
And if you do not know yourself, you will begin to fear the void.
Roksana Tales 