Why do you write? #writebravely

Why do you write? #writebravely

 

I began blogging four years ago. Then, I was unsure about not just my writing capabilities, but also about what I would write about. Being a homemaker who did not socialise, at all, or step out to study the world as it went about its day, I was at a loss for ideas for my posts. But, I realised that although I could not personally step outdoors much,  my mind could definitely travel the world, nay, the entire Universe, so I would surely have much to write about!

Over the years, writing became a hobby. Sharing thoughts that people could relate to felt exhilarating. But, there was something that kept getting in the way of my writing transforming from being just a hobby to becoming my passion. Eventually, it did, though.

Now I write because it is not just a way to give release to my creativity, but to make me feel alive.  It’s a gratifying experience, actually.  Maybe, moving to, ‘Metanoia’, did the trick!

The blogosphere feels like a Wonderland, really. You come up with a topic to write about;  stringing together words that  best express your thoughts, you work on your post with a passion and obsession that you find invigorating. Then,  after careful consideration and a whole lot of editing, you hit Publish.

Out goes your post, into the world for all to read. And, just when you aren’t thinking much about it, you receive a comment from an unknown reader, where they talk about how much they could relate to your post.

How they, too, felt the same in a situation you found yourself in, and how they emerged out of a difficult period that left them overwhelmed, just the way you did. And,  at that moment,  those words get imprinted in your heart and you feel you did something right! That’s when you realise, with a new-found confidence, that you are going in the right direction.

I admit, there are moments when I yearn to find myself rubbing shoulders with award-winning bloggers; have  hundreds of followers craving to lap up the words I type here, on my blog, and leave behind flattering remarks on my posts. But, I stop myself and divert my mind to the happiness I get from just writing, and I am back on terra firma.

My mind no longer in the clouds, I realise what joy there is in simply writing. A cathartic experience coupled with a release for my creative urge is what I gain from this exercise.

Why then should I even wish for something else, something so superficial, it is only going to give me happiness but for a few moments? Awards are definitely going to encourage me and my morale, but the rewards I receive from the act of writing are far more precious to me.

And, therefore I write.

Why do you write?

Love,

SHILPA..

                                         

Why do you do what you do?

The Writetribe Problogger Blogging Challenge has been a great experience. Being a twice-a-week writing  challenge, it was not only doable, but also inspirational. In that, I not just worked on my writing, but also could visit some really brilliant bloggers I haven’t read, up until now. There were fiction as well as non-fiction posts that left their impression on me and taught me so much!

Thank you, Corinne, for this opportunity! Looking forward to the next blogging challenge! 🙂

Linking this post to The Writetribe Problogger October 2017 Blogging Challenge.

#writebravely       #writetribeproblogger

Write Tribe
In search of my lost childhood. #writebravely

In search of my lost childhood. #writebravely

The park looked deserted, save for a couple of kids playing on the jungle gym. I made my way to the swing and  sat on its faded, red, plastic seat, gingerly.  Holding the thick  rusty chains of the swing, I gave myself a slight push and the swing began swaying, back and fro.  And, just like that, the moment whisked  me back to many years ago, when the park was my favourite place in the whole world.

I remembered those mornings, from eons ago, when I would slip out of the house in my school uniform and head for the park.  When I would stand on the swing and sway as high as I could, to feel the wind in my hair, and that glorious exhilaration of almost flying like a bird. When mother would come looking for me at the park and berate me for being such an irresponsible little girl. When I would leave the swing dejectedly to go home and head for school. When school was really not my favourite place in the whole world.

I looked around me and took in the changes the park had undergone in all these years. There were a lot more trees around, and the park  seemed to be well taken care of. But, the warmth and the love the place exuded was still the same. Untouched by time. The realisation  warmed me and I felt like a little girl, all over again.

I pushed myself a bit more now and the swing began swaying higher. I stretched my legs in front of me, and holding the chains tighter now, leaned back and turned my face skywards. A little patch of the light blue sky peeped through the canopy of lush green trees. And, in that little blue patch I saw a swarm of dragonflies hovering above me, as if wondering who this new visitor might be!

I felt caught in a moment I did not want to end. A moment from the past when life was all about playing in the park even after the sun had long set; about friends who made promises of being together forever; about studies that were most hated and yet not a burden, but mostly about laughter, happiness, joy – unbridled joy.

I stayed  on the swing long after it had stopped swaying. The sun had touched the horizon and was biding adieu for the day. The weather had turned muggy and the dainty dragonflies had now been replaced by the humming mosquitoes. I looked around me at the now deserted park and felt myself unable to move. Was I really unable to move, or was it that I just did not want to  move?

Why, oh why, did I have to leave this place, this moment,  and go back to the adult world where I did not have any such place that was my most favourite place in the whole world? Yes, I did have my home – my cocoon – but then, why did I feel so safe here, in the deserted park, with not a soul around?

Maybe it was the memories the park held, the sound of laughter that still echoed there even after all these years, the carefree atmosphere it held within its bosom – that was what seemed to keep me rooted to the spot. That was what I most yearned for in my present life – the warmth, the coziness, the pure innocence of childhood. All of it that had gotten lost along with time. All of it that, despite being in the present, was not really the same.

No wonder then that it’s called the most precious period of life –  Childhood. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, never to return. However much ‘young at heart’ one stays, it is not  what it used to be!

Do you miss your childhood? Where do you look for it? Do share with me, I would love to know!

Hugs!

Love,

SHILPA.

 

The golden period of our life--CHILDHOOD

Linking this post to The WriteTribe ProBlogger October 2017 Blogging Challenge.

#writebravely  #writetribeproblogger

Write Tribe