Returning to my writing pad after three long months takes its own toll. For the first few weeks, I had forgotten that this has been a form of expression. I spent the rest wondering what had killed the desire to venture out, and document this scrambled egg of a mind.
“Mine is an impatient love,”
A whisper is all it had taken, to express what it has really been like. The espresso had approved, I heard a giggle and lived a swift kiss. Impatience is aplenty with restless souls, ever exploring the next moment, not willing to settle, not willing to make room, struggling to stay still, struggling to keep our fingers away from the phone screens and from everything that is warm, wet and throbbing.
Pungent flavors end up being overwhelming, while the strength of dark brews gives a heady intoxicating feeling – alarming yet oddly satisfying at the same time – addictive. It is a forceful river to be crossed, and takes clarity to understand the direction being taken. In the midst of wading through, I had forgotten my written expression. In the midst of swimming under water, I had forgotten what it means to be on the shore again.
“You are my person.”
The pull of an espresso is potent, and I keep going back to it. It makes me lose my sleep, it makes me cranky, it makes me feel light headed after having a quick doppio, and yet – I keep going back to it, bowing to the pull, giving in – unable to steer clear – investing deeply with every single sip.
Yet an espresso is what an espresso does – it gives you a caffeine high and brings you crashing down – which makes you go for a followup shot and another – making one increasingly impatient for the bliss that never comes.
The world we live in is nothing but our perception of the reality, and our reactions determine the path ahead. The mountain you choose to climb does not change for every person, yet every person experiences it in a different manner. You won’t feel the climb to be as steep as others do, you may not feel the wind to be as cold as others do. If you deem the mountain to be unpleasant, it is crucial to introspect what’s making you feel so – for the mountain is simply being.
It is easy to give up the climb and choose another route. It is easy to deny a certain brew and reach out for another. It is easy to change chairs, hum a new melody and smile at a new wind. The reason behind the switch needs to be pondered over. It is crucial to look beyond the addictive pull.
Mine has always been a frenzied expression of affection, served in hot little shots on a rainy afternoon, served in abundance, carrying a slight bitter aftertaste, just enough to keep the eyes open. Sugar gets monotonous, and absence of obvious sweetness opens up the possibilities.
Love is an acquired taste, impatient or not.