Dear friend,
I’ve been reflecting, just like billions of others. Feels like I’ve barely blinked and here we are; at the cusp of a brand new year with seemingly endless possibilities. It’s funny to think that if we as humans didn’t create these milestones out of time, or time itself in fact, how quickly we would forget all that has happened. Would we even reflect if there wasn’t a timestamp put on the occasion?
In any case here we are, at the end of another year and naturally the occasion calls for a review of every decision that has been made since the very first day of the very first month.
Speaking of firsts, there have been many and namely two this year; Moving out of Dad’s house (then back in but we’ll get to that later) and getting a full time job. The latter of the two I couldn’t have predicted at the beginning of the year. Even your psychic powers couldn’t have predicted that one. As an aspiring actress slash writer slash wannabe Emile Hirsch in Into The Wild, I have always run away from anything that required…commitment.
Yet much of this year, 10 months to be exact, has been spent in a carriage packed to the brim with salty sardines in ties and tights, in gleaming lifts where eye contact is scarce, on a desk questioning when things will change. And that right there, waiting for things to change I mean, has been the definition of this year. The big disappointment of my whole life is characterised in my decision to not make a decision.
As my close friend you know, I wasn’t always like this. Remember when I was the risk taker, the go getter; ricocheting with force to get to the next thing, and the next one after that. Creating till the sun came up, even when no one was watching. Especially when no one was watching, a kind of solace overcoming me as I wrote my weekly blog piece about this and that, knowing fully well that not a set of eyes would lay on this intimate confession. What freedom. And continuation despite my father’s disapproving nature.
Now I have the daily commute, the small talk, the office banter, the signing off of emails with a kind regards and finishing the day feeling like absolutely nothing has been achieved. Despite a whole day’s “work”.
I’ve felt uncharacteristically paralysed in what has been my utter willingness to be chained to a desk. Many factors have made it, in truth, a very comfortable and bearable position to be in. Being able to move out for the first time, indulging in consumerism, jet setting to Brazil for a near month of ignorance bliss.
Distracting myself just enough to forget about the looming doom of Monday’s.
And despite it all, I don’t want a redo.
Not being able to do exactly what I want to do, has been an exercise in understanding firsthand what so many of us go through on a daily basis. A real life experience in ways that I can’t fully comprehend at this point.
My time in a nine to five has been a lesson in the study of self. I know that if it ever did come to it, I could survive the suits. Though now, I am choosing not to because this life is so much more than survival.
With that has come the transition back to my Dad’s house, back to my childhood room. A difficult transition that you witnessed over the phone the other day, as it dawned upon me that the 8 months of independence I’d relished were coming to an abrupt end.
Moving out provides one with a distance that allows you to see your loved ones with wonderful rose tinted glasses. In my case I realised that these glasses had a greasy smudge on them, and now that I’m much closer to the action, it’s all on show. Problems I could once ignore on my bimonthly visits now require attention.
Though one thing I can take away from the year is to stand by the decisions I have made. No redo’s because I have a choice, no matter what, we all have a choice. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.
In this spirit, I’m making one singular intention for the year ahead. Whatever the decision is and however it materialises, that I drive towards it with a fiery passion, a childlike bravery and a finely tuned ambition that resides in dreamers like us. What will differ this year is to run towards the fear, barefoot.
Though I can’t plaster accolades all over social media, like our artist mates are currently doing, 2019 will always be a standout year in realising my worth and in particular the connections I have made. Having creative, open minded and generous souls accompany me throughout the year has saved me from the inevitable downward spiral I find myself experiencing every few weeks. It is the company of dear friends, like you, that have helped restore my faith. For this I thank you deeply. I am not immune to the fact that I am not an easy person to know, to really know and understand and deal with in ways that you have come to. Your patience, love and laughter is everything. All I can hope is that I have provided the same for you, even if for a minute.
Amongst the tests and trials of the year it is the Arts that have, once again, helped to sustain some morsel of magic and hope. There have been countless albums, films, exhibitions, podcasts, talks and books that have accompanied me on the torturous commutes and still Sunday mornings. In particular your work, both in film and writing, has been utterly refreshing. To see you chase after your dreams with conviction has been nothing short of inspiring and I look forward to a whole new year of cheering you on from the sidelines.
What more is left to say? Every year must have its learnings, something to leave behind and something to take forth. I feel I am armed with the tools to achieve, I hope the same is true for you.
Finally, here’s to a transformative year ahead. May we remain open and warm souls, especially as our surroundings become bitterly cold. May we continue to grow and learn with a childlike curiosity. May we exercise our faith and our extraordinary abilities to make a change in our corner of the world.
Sent with warmth,
Aroob
