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
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
If someone listens to a song And she appears in the verse Not summoned, not expected Just felt, like a breeze through a half-open window Then that is love in its gentlest form …
Not loud, not declared But tucked between notes Where memory breathes, and the heart still knows What it never forgot …
And if they play it again Not to relive the past But to feel her near Just once more …
Alas, the song fades! But somewhere in its echo lives a moment They never said goodbye to …
I was listening to a song when a sudden thought settled in, if someone ever hears a song and thinks of me, isn’t that one of the most deeply emotional and sacred gestures?
That moment stayed with me, and I ended up writing ‘When a Song Remembers Her’ … It doesn’t follow any structure or rhyme, but it holds something personal, love, memory, longing …
Maybe it’s a poem. Maybe it’s just a feeling shaped into words. I’m not entirely sure …
But I wonder, what do you think, can something like this be called a poem? Or does a poem need rules to be real, or can it simply be a moment that moves us? Also, I’m just wondering about you, have you ever heard a song and found someone gently returning to your heart through it?
Tell me, Isn’t it beautiful how music remembers what we try to forget?
When R stepped off the small plane that landed in Paro, Bhutan, she felt something shift, not dramatically, but like the settling of dust after a long journey …
The valley stretched wide beneath her, green and golden in patches, framed by distant, unmoving mountains. It was quieter than she expected. Even the wind seemed to move gently, as though not to disturb the stillness that held this place together …
She had arrived not as a tourist, but as a teacher, a woman in her late thirties from Bangladesh, with a degree in English and a quiet but persistent belief in meaningful work. Years ago, it had been just a passing dream, one that took root on a monsoon evening back home, when her father handed her a book after returning from a short business trip to Bhutan: Married to Bhutan by Linda Leaming. She didn’t know then that the book would become more than a gift. It would become a roadmap …
She read it in one sitting, and then again, slower. The words painted a life far from the chaos she knew: one of rhythm, simplicity, joy without extravagance. Something about it stirred her. Not just the country itself, but the idea that a person could choose a gentler life, one rooted in intention. Ever since, the desire to live and work in Bhutan stayed with her, not loudly, but like a thread running through her decisions, pulling her quietly in one direction …
It took years to make it happen. Teaching jobs weren’t easy to come by. There were rejections, delays, moments of self-doubt. But eventually, things aligned. A school in Paro welcomed her. And so she came, with a suitcase full of essentials and a heart full of the unknown …
The school was modest: a few classrooms, basic supplies, and a staff of deeply committed educators. Her students were bright-eyed and curious, some from the surrounding hills, others from the valley towns. They called her Miss R with respect and affection. She taught English, but often, she felt she was learning more than she was giving …
In Paro, life had a slower pulse. Mornings began with mist hanging low over the rice fields. The walk to school was lined with prayer flags and the occasional passing cow. She started wearing the kira on school days, awkwardly at first, then with growing comfort. Suja, salted butter tea, became something she reached for on chilly afternoons …
She missed home sometimes: the sound of the call to prayer, her mother’s cooking, the overlapping laughter of cousins. But Bhutan had offered her something she hadn’t expected, a deep and gentle space to grow. Here, her work felt rooted. Each lesson she planned, each conversation with a student, each moment of solitude looking out at the hills, it all added up to a life that felt fuller, simpler, and strangely her own …
Some evenings, when the rain returned and wrapped the mountains in silver, she would pull out the old book her father had given her. The pages were worn now, the cover faded. But the feeling it gave her, that tug toward a life of simplicity and purpose, still felt as clear as it did all those years ago …
Living in Bhutan hadn’t made her someone new. It had returned her to someone she had always hoped to be: grounded, purposeful, and joyful. She wasn’t searching anymore. She was, finally, living the life she had once only read about …
She is here … Teaching … Living near the mountain valleys she once only imagined … And in doing so, she has become a part of a beautiful story …
And at the end of each day, amidst mountain valleys, in the hush of Paro’s twilight, that felt like enough …
#roksanatales
While there in Bhutan
Bhutan has a sacred place in my heart. I visited once, and it felt like stepping into a world where everything slows down. Peace seemed to rise gently with the mountains …
I remember the kind people, the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and the quiet beauty of the dzongs. Everything left a deep impression on me …
Rafting was one of the most exciting parts, unexpectedly wild, joyful, and full of laughter. That whole trip was truly an adventure I’ll never forget …
Before leaving, I bought the book Married to Bhutan from Paro International Airport. After reading it, something in me shifted. It changed the way I see life, more simply, more mindfully, and with a greater sense of purpose
Now the evening descends in stillness And the burdens of the day return to the hands of the Divine He knows what the heart held in silence And wraps the soul in mercy, soft as dusk …
Recently I happen to read a haiku by Bashō: Such stillness the cicada’s cry drills deep into the rocks.
It stayed with me. The depth, it felt like something more than words. That’s when I found the Japanese word Yūgen. It means a deep, mysterious beauty that can’t be fully explained. It felt just right for what I was feeling, so I kept it with me, as the title for something I’m slowly shaping in my heart …
Yūgen (幽玄) A deep, mysterious sense of beauty and the grace of the universe, often felt during twilight or in quiet moments
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 …
Your absence hums like a violin string snapped mid-note A comet that vanished before its trail could unfold The eclipse of a lighthouse on a storm-battered coast …
Time crawls, a spider weaving webs of empty hours Memories linger like fireflies trapped in a jar Each one dimming, yet refusing to fade into stars …
Your voice was rain stitching needles through thirsty leaves Now silence looms like an unfinished symphony’s grief A mosaic missing its most vivid, sacred piece…
I search for you in the scent of forgotten gardens In waves that speak like poets lost to their stanzas In winds that carry secrets of unuttered mantras …
Truth is, I miss you like the moon misses its tides A ship adrift, no constellations to confide The ache of a heart where all its echoes reside
I hope this letter finds you well. As Aristotle once said, “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” With that in mind, I wanted to share some important reminders—lessons I’ve learned and wisdom I’ve gathered over time …
First, remember that happiness isn’t just a destination; it’s the journey itself. Think of each moment as a precious gem to be savored. Immerse yourself in what you love, whether it’s painting a vivid canvas, losing yourself in a good book, tending to your garden, or enjoying the company of friends. Don’t hold back. Learn the practice of “wabi-sabi.” While wabi-sabi primarily focuses on finding beauty in imperfection and the transient nature of life, it also emphasizes appreciating simple, everyday moments. Appreciate more of your self-care and personal expression. Dress in your favorite outfits, experiment with makeup, or enjoy a pampering session as a way to celebrate yourself and find joy in small, delightful ways. Embrace and cherish the present moment …
Don’t overthink. Eliminate self-doubt and self-criticism. Don’t ever think you’re not enough; you are enough, just as you are. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Don’t let negative thoughts take root in your mind. Instead, focus on starting a skincare routine, eating healthy meals, maintaining regular exercise or yoga, and taking care of your personal hygiene. Remember, your brain and body are closely linked; when one suffers, the other often does too …
My dear, do you laugh often? Laughter is a reflection of our inner state of being, so let it flow freely. Find that spark that lights up your eyes. Be passionate about something—whether it’s a hobby, a project, playing an instrument, exploring nature, or even just a ride all on your own …
Seek connection and company. Share your joys, sorrows, and daily happenings with the right people. Building and nurturing these relationships is essential for your well-being. The support and understanding of others can provide strength and perspective in difficult times. But also never ever let anyone tell you otherwise or bring you down …
Read as many books as you can, starting from a young age. As George R.R. Martin said, “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies . . . The man who never reads lives only one.” Reading will enrich your life and make the most of your time in the best possible ways …
Please darling don’t forget to walk daily, move, run, or dance, for ‘to keep the body in good health is a duty… otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.'” – Buddha
You have the power to create a beautiful life for yourself. Embrace every opportunity to grow, learn, and love. You’ve got this. The time is now to be bold about who you are. Hold no regrets. Try more things. Cross some lines. It won’t matter to anyone. Love yourself as you are. And remember, you are always beautiful, kind, and worthy of being loved, cared for, and respected.
Consider Oprah Winfrey’s journey. Despite facing significant challenges and adversities in her early life, she embraced every opportunity for growth and learning, ultimately becoming one of the most influential and successful figures in the world. Her story is a testament to the power of self-love, resilience, and the pursuit of one’s true self. As she often says, “The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams.”
You’ll discover a unique happiness that comes from simply living and enjoying everyday, mundane pleasures. Imagine a painter who, after years of searching for inspiration in grand landscapes, finally finds true joy in capturing the simple beauty of a sunlit kitchen, a blooming garden, or the quiet streets of their neighborhood. Their art reflects the contentment found in everyday moments, illustrating how the ordinary can bring profound happiness.
Love deeply and passionately. Someone unique will come into your life. He won’t possess the conventional markers of success you once thought were essential in a partner. On your first date, he might give you a ride home on the handlebars of his bike because he doesn’t have a car and can’t afford to rent one. But don’t worry about these. Rather you may find that he’s incredibly funny, intelligent, and has remarkable integrity.
And lastly, be funny, kind, empathetic, caring, and respectful. Be vulnerable. Wouldn’t you agree that these qualities make life richer and more fulfilling?
You warm my heart, Roksana
#roksanatales
A letter to the younger self
The few coloring, drawings, paintings that I enjoyed doing in this July
However, no matter how old you are, there’s always something to learn from any moment or from anyone who is an integral part of your life right now. Learn what you can from those you admire and most importantly from the walk of your own life and apply it in real sense as much as possible ….
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 …
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.
My Dear, It’s likely that as you were writing to me, I was walking back home from work, taking in the beauty of the flowers in my charming neighborhood …
I adore my neighborhood. The scenery is incredibly captivating with its tall trees and beautiful blossoming flowers. I frequently opt to walk home from work, as it’s only 850-1000 steps from my workplace to my home …
So, what I was saying about my neighborhood!
I really admire the shade under the tall trees and enjoy watching the breeze rustle through the colorful bougainvillea. It’s lovely to see people walking along the footpath and enjoying their time. As I passed by the mosque, I noticed people seeking relief from the scorching heat under the trees in front of the mosque. I adore the vibrant colors, the fragrant scents, and the sense of simplicity in that scene.
It was scorching heat outside. And there I found myself embracing the warmth of the surroundings. There was refreshing cool breeze and thoughts of you. It may sound unbelievable, but it’s the truth. Your presence in my thoughts remains unwavering amidst the whirlwind of life’s events. Please, believe that.
So, where was I? I was expressing my fondness for the delightful, blossoming, shady path in my neighborhood and how much I’m fond of you …
Today I took a break from work as I was feeling an intermittent cramping in my abdomen. Some rest will help me feel better. However,. Sudden leave from work leads me to think, “How can I best utilize this extra time at home?” Swiftly, I begin mentally compiling a to-do list. Eventually, I decided to walk back home…
While returning, I found myself feeling happy to see these blossoms and greens. The outside heat was too strong but I cared less and I continued walking, intermittently pausing to capture photographs.
I returned home and checked my email once again. I was so surprised to receive your mail. This news brightened my day so much that now I feel inspired to spend the next few hours painting.
I find great pleasure in painting when my heart is filled with happiness and I was very happy to read your mail.
Your words and painting will grace my own solitude for today, now and here.
Do you enjoy solitude?
I eagerly await your response to my somewhat poetic emails.
There once was a curious soul Wondering how your days roll What activities fill your time … It’s something she often wonders about … Completely immersed in the moment
#roksanatales
When I’m happy, either I sing or I paint. when I’m very happy I do both 😊
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” …
Can you perceive An unseen bond between us? It ties us together; trust it, my love … It’s invisible, yet unmistakably sensed Certainly by me … Do you not sense it as well? A connection surpassing time and distance… Ours is an endless bond Our eternal, cherished blessing …
Through moments fleeting and forever The thread weaves its way … Stretching, sometimes tangling, Yet resilient, unyielding … As time, as it is infinite, it will stay …
Oh, my beloved, my dear … Please pardon me, the mistake was mine Throughout the moments we shared And the clarity we’ve known … It took me a while To fully understand your essence …
Now I know This love endures, and Time, place, circumstance may shift, This love is unbroken, my constant uplift …
#roksanatales
Cherish caring hearts; love’s true wealth …
I’m uncertain if the title fits these verses. Do you have a suggestion?
On this day, he reflected, “I recall she used to attend her prayers for Jumma day.” …
On this day, she reminisced, “I recall he would probably meet the girl.” …
Today, he worried, “She has been feeling a bit unwell. Will she still be able to go to the mosque for her prayers? Perhaps she should rest today. Will she ever heed my advice?” …
Today, she pondered, “When will he meet the girl? Will it be in the evening? That would be preferable. It’s quite hot outside today; they might not feel comfortable meeting in such humidity. I hope their meeting goes well.” …
Despite feeling unwell again, she went to the mosque for Jumma prayer, then in the evening she prayed for him before falling asleep …
In the evening, he met the girl, and they enjoyed their time together, discussing their future life …
Throughout all this time, they remember their memories, Yet they never announce their presence, Simply flowing directly into their hearts …
#roksanatales
I appreciate your prayers for me.
Tell me if there’s anything else you wish to put in this story ….
…
Gunnen/ dutch (n.) to find happiness in someone else’s happiness because that’s how much you love them …
His presence lingers always In thoughts, he resides …
#roksanatales
When will I be able to let go of the enchanting pull of Kashmir, with its grand mountains and stunning scenery? I believe I’m entirely in love with it.
Discovering happiness and serenity along the path and journey ….
Have you ever visited a place that lingers in your mind long after you’ve left?
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 …
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 …
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 …
Roksana Tales 