Dear M,
Only fifteen more days for the year to end. Though the change of year doesn't mean a thing, for it's nothing but a flow of days one after the other, week after week, month after month, somehow we have grown up attaching an extraordinary significance, a meaning, to it. An opportunity to look back and assess our efforts, results, achievements, failures and so forth.
As writers, what have we achieved? I don't want to go as far as the verge of the year to pronounce that I haven't gained much. This blog, which I have been able to consistently run since its day of inception, has been a source of pleasure and relief, and offers me a strong sense of attainment.
Everything else remained pretty much "another effort in that direction." Which is why I hate the whole process of looking back on the year dashing past. And yet I cannot but steal a glance back, to see if there are greener pastures in the mostly greyness of the ground behind me. Well, I am still alive, and so are most of the people around me. Which is essentially a good thing. We do not want the delicate balance of the world hindered.
But now, more than ever, I appreciate the process of learning. I have come so much farther than where I was last December. I know it. And despite days when I did not work, due to laziness or health or other constraints, there were several days when I did, and they offer me a sense of immense satisfaction that cannot be measured, that cannot be explained, that cannot be displayed.
And in this whole business of battling alone, against unseen (or non-existent) enemies, befriending the nature and sometimes going against her, I have made several relevant strides forward. There is nothing to boast about, no success stories to update in Facebook, but somewhere in the corner of my heart the light remains, the smile that I alone understand, the pride that I got so far.
Now I know what they mean when they say, Success is in the journey.
Love.
Only fifteen more days for the year to end. Though the change of year doesn't mean a thing, for it's nothing but a flow of days one after the other, week after week, month after month, somehow we have grown up attaching an extraordinary significance, a meaning, to it. An opportunity to look back and assess our efforts, results, achievements, failures and so forth.
As writers, what have we achieved? I don't want to go as far as the verge of the year to pronounce that I haven't gained much. This blog, which I have been able to consistently run since its day of inception, has been a source of pleasure and relief, and offers me a strong sense of attainment.
Everything else remained pretty much "another effort in that direction." Which is why I hate the whole process of looking back on the year dashing past. And yet I cannot but steal a glance back, to see if there are greener pastures in the mostly greyness of the ground behind me. Well, I am still alive, and so are most of the people around me. Which is essentially a good thing. We do not want the delicate balance of the world hindered.
But now, more than ever, I appreciate the process of learning. I have come so much farther than where I was last December. I know it. And despite days when I did not work, due to laziness or health or other constraints, there were several days when I did, and they offer me a sense of immense satisfaction that cannot be measured, that cannot be explained, that cannot be displayed.
And in this whole business of battling alone, against unseen (or non-existent) enemies, befriending the nature and sometimes going against her, I have made several relevant strides forward. There is nothing to boast about, no success stories to update in Facebook, but somewhere in the corner of my heart the light remains, the smile that I alone understand, the pride that I got so far.
Now I know what they mean when they say, Success is in the journey.
Love.
You've rightly pointed out.Success doesn't always give satisfaction and the reverse is also true. The joy of going on continues...
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