She no longer fears missing out, for she has learned that what’s meant for her will never pass her by. While the world rushes to chase trends, gatherings, and noise, she finds peace in her own rhythm. Her joy isn’t borrowed from what others are doing, but born from the satisfaction of being present where she is …
She doesn’t measure her life against anyone’s timeline. She knows that every soul blooms in its own season. She would rather miss a hundred fleeting moments than lose the one that truly belongs to her …
For her, the real richness lies not in being everywhere, but in being whole, right where she stands …
There was a small village at the foot of a mountain. The village was called Shantipur. In that village lived a little girl named Turona. Every day, Turona would gaze at the big mountain from afar. In the morning, the mountain sparkled in golden sunlight, and by evening, it glowed in a soft reddish hue …
One day, Turona decided she would climb to the top of that mountain. Everyone said, ‘It’s too high, you won’t be able to.’ But Turona smiled and replied, ‘How will I know if I don’t try?’ …
The next morning, she set off with a bottle of water, some fruit, and a notebook. On the way, she grew tired, her feet ached on the stones, yet she didn’t stop. Sometimes she sat down to rest, listening to the sound of the wind and watching the birds fly …
Finally, after noon, she reached the top of the mountain. Looking down, she saw how beautiful her little village was, green fields, tiny houses, and a silver river flowing gently through it …
In her notebook, Turona wrote, ‘The joy of reaching the highest place only comes when you refuse to give up.’ …
Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelled of freedom, and inside her heart, there was peace …
She realized that the real mountain wasn’t outside, but within her. And that day, she had conquered both …
How we used to write short stories when we were young! I remember how every night I’d make up stories to tell my little sisters before they fell asleep. I used to jot down bits of them in my notebook too. Often, I’d go up to our rooftop with that notebook, gazing at the distant sky until my thoughts drifted away. I wanted to write, and sometimes, I did. Other times, I simply got lost in my own imagination!
I’m sure it happened with you too!
Anyways, now tell me, What is the ‘mountain’ in your own life that you’ve been afraid to climb? Or tell me, When was the last time you tried something even though others doubted you?
I know you’ve been holding a lot lately, not just in your hands, but in your heart. You care so deeply, and it shows in all the little ways you’re trying to help, to listen, to stay steady. I see how much thought you’re putting into what might ease someone else’s pain, how to show up not just with love, but with wisdom …
You may never have the perfect words or solutions, and that’s okay. It’s not about fixing everything. It’s about being there, consistently, quietly, with care. That kind of presence does matter. That kind of love is enough …
It’s also okay to feel tired sometimes. To question if you’re doing enough. To wonder if your efforts are really helping. Just remember: your intentions are rooted in love, and love is never wasted. Rest when you need to. Trust that showing up with honesty and patience is a healing act in itself …
Keep going gently. You’re doing better than you think …
Have you ever spent time with someone who has bipolar disorder? What was it like to be around them during their depressive episodes or manic phases? Did you notice anything in particular about how they acted or how it made you feel?
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
I won’t be hesitant to say, ‘It was difficult but I could breathe the day … It’s a hopelessness yet hope found its way … Though I cannot predict if all will be well, But I tried my best, trying to break through the spell …
It rained a lot today, a lot, a lot, a lot; after a long, long, long time. …. It made me a bit contemplative …. Does this happen with you when it rains?
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Sielvartas/ lithuanian (n.) This term means deep sorrow or ‘soul tumbling’. It can simply be a state of seemingly endless grief …
Between the lines of a muted conversation, Unspoken tales form a quiet foundation … Heartbeats echo the stories concealed, In the silent spaces, emotions revealed …
Gaman/ japanese (n.) Gaman is a Japanese word of Zen Buddhist origin which means ‘enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity’. The term is generally translated as ‘perseverance’, ‘patience’ and ‘tolerance’ …
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 …
You are lingering Over my head like rain clouds … When will you fall like rain in my heart?
But wait … Not now … Not yet ……
Ever since I’ve acknowledged this f e e l ing Interestingly, I have felt less alone …
There are still some lingering doubts in my mind; though My journey into this has been very unplanned So practicing the pause and silence would probably work, telling myself … And the rain clouds are hovering over me …. Hence taking pause has become easy silently, and solitarily …
As if I’m in love with the bliss of solitude … These rain-clouds are lingering over my head And I’m looking at it from the bright side That they are with me means to me As if You’re with me!
So, wait .… Not now … Not yet …..
Fall like rain in my heart After sometime, after some pauses … Rain in my heart for no reason Let the clouds part, doubts be gone, Fall in love with me … Like a soft, whispering breeze while it rains Only after sometime, after some pauses …
A simple prayer Powerful enough ‘You deserve happy’ …
You think you can stop loving someone, But in reality You can only hide that feeling, You never stop loving … Because once you love someone, There’s no undoing it … There’s only prayers of Happiness for them …
The dawn was breaking You looked at me I looked at you The place was a haunting one The light was shining And You and I collide Yet we never kissed … You never touched my face … What could I say? What could I do? There I stood, unknowing What’s happening In a world full of billions There were you Mixed with all of the chaos Inside and Out At that very moment I somehow felt You and I collide For a reason … When The dawn was breaking You looked at me I looked at you
How often do you feel lost, lost in translation of your feelings and emotions?
This street photography was taken by me, Downtown Brooklyn, April, 2022. Apart from the whole girly face image, I loved the collage of a bird at the bottom left. Do you love taking photographs while just walking the roads? Do you observe things and people around while on the street? Do you contemplate in midst of crowd? Can you find quiet time with yourself even when you are with people around? Just asking! I’m curious to know you 😊
Roksana Tales 