When I started writing poetry, it felt like I took one of the most significant steps of my life. Around that time I was severely unhappy about one behaviorial tendency I possessed, which was the lack of self-discipline. Specifically, there had been several instances when I had taken up a creative activity like playing the guitar, sketching, photography, etc. but had never stuck to really doing it for more than six months.
I knew this was something I disliked about myself, and so, during the dark old days of COVID-19 when mortality faced the world, I too felt compelled to act on my shortcomings and commit to a creative act with discipline. Thus, I challenged myself to write 100 poems in 100 days, did it, and then decided to continue writing for longer, but more like in a weekly schedule - and thus Hello Universe was born.
Today, 221 weeks later, I am still on that path of self-remodeling and reconstruction. What I'm doing currently - studying and working in a new country for the last 6 months, is one of the most impactful parts of that journey. To thrive in this completely new environment, I am constantly rebuilding myself and my inner workings. Reaching out for more.
But lately I've found this rebuilding leading to more and more questions about my fundamental self and what is my identity. Am I Punit the poet? The student? The corporate professional? The guy who likes to play frisbee? The guy who likes to make people happy? The guy who isn't the best but keeps trying to be?
Am I really all this? Am I less or more? Is this all I've been or will ever be? What am I reaching out for?
These and many more questions present themselves to me out in this new world. But after all, it is a good world, with good people, good food, and a beautiful summer.
So I've also had time to constructively reflect on these questions, and that's where today's poem comes from. I hope you resonate with it, dear reader, this is one I've spent a lot of time thinking about.
Alright, poem starts in 3… 2… 1!
I had an awful feeling once,
felt like life was upheaving once.
All that I thought was right and true
was standing up and leaving once.
It happened while I watched the rain
streak down my window like a stain.
Each drop would join another drop,
which one could still claim its own name?
That question somehow turned on me:
where did I start? Where was I free
from all the things I'd gathered up
and called my personality?
The pride I felt when praised at work,
that little inner smile and smirk.
I searched for where it lived in me
but found just empty space and murk.
My memories, my future plans,
my likes, dislikes, my "I can't stand"s.
I'd always thought they were my core,
and yet they felt like shifting sands.
Each trait I'd claimed throughout the years,
"I'm someone who..." "I always fear..."
seemed suddenly like clothes I wore,
instead of who was really here.
The awful feeling deepened then.
If I'm not this, then what has been
beneath the costumes all along?
Just blankness with a thought-made skin?
But no, that wasn't right. I sensed
something simpler and less condensed.
Like something doesn't need a name
to be fully experienced.
I thought of learning how to swim,
that moment when you trust the brim
of water holds you, always did,
you just stopped fighting, rigid, grim.
This felt the same but deeper still:
the "me" I'd built with so much skill
was just my thrashing in the water,
thinking movement kept me filled.
The rain kept falling. Drops met drops.
No ceremonies, no full stops.
Just water being water, free
from needing to be on the top.
The "me" that got so hurt and proud,
that needed to stand out in crowds,
that feared his death and chased his wants
was patterns in the shifting clouds.
Now what remained felt more, not less.
Like taking off a tight-fit dress
and finding you can finally breathe
and how you always have been blessed.
It's still here now, that little voice
that makes its preferences and choice.
But knowing I am more than it,
lets me experience such joy.
Like learning that the sun don't rise,
the earth turns toward those morning skies!
Everything looked just the same
but the whole universe was revised.
The peace of knowing what I'm not.
The freedom in that tiny thought.
That all my years of building "me"
were just the games that atoms taught.
The awful feeling? Yes, it burns.
The ego kicks and writhes and turns.
But on the other side there's space,
the kind for which the whole world yearns.
Not empty space, make no mistake.
But full space, like a quiet lake
that holds the sky, the clouds, the trees,
yet never claims them for its sake.
So when you feel your edges blur,
when this feeling again occurs,
remember: in this moment you're
just meeting who you always were.
That's it! Thanks for reading edition 221 of Hello Universe.
I have written it based on what I know to be true, but to be honest I'm still only halfway through the journey I describe up there. Wish me luck to get all the way there, and hey, if you have any stories about self-rebuilding, I would love to hear from you in the comments or as a reply to this email.
That's it for this week, see you next Tuesday!
I am speechless
You asked about comments on self-building...I feel very blessed knowing I am never alone. I am grateful that my grandmother taught me as a four year old something which made me happy. She said, God loves you. How did i as a child know the meaning of love, but it really made me feel secure to know that I was loved. Know that our Father-Creator made us to love us...and you are much loved, too. You are honestly expressing yourself...and providing a place for others to think, reflect and respond to your writing.