On creative time, quiet growth, boundaries, and learning to trust the life that unfolds without force
There was a time when I was enthusiastic about almost everything.
Art, literature, friends, love, sex — life.
It was all part of my everyday living.
I used to write daily, for the blog or in my personal diary. Not to preserve or publish anything.
Writing for the sake of writing.
The younger me never questioned why I did the things I did.
If I felt motivated, I simply did it; that was enough.
But today I write from a place where nothing is happening.
And I write to understand how creative time is never wasted time.
I have the willingness, but not the motivation.
I want none of it. In fact, I don’t want anything. What I need comes to me.
And this writing came to me. So I honoured the calling.
Even when nothing shows for it, something inside you is quietly growing.
There is input, and there is output, but I don’t care to do the maths. At least not for this blog.
Yet things are growing in ways that feel beyond my control.
This blog is no longer a private culture. People are joining in.
At the time of writing this, I have around 80k subscribers.
The number hangs over my head.
Did I want this?
***
You are becoming all that you once dreamed of becoming.
Was this my dream?
I never considered myself ambitious.
I never went to college and never took a job.
No exams, no interviews.
I don’t dream of a life that exists in fantasy.
I live my life.
I am happy with what I have, and when I suffer, I suffer with surrender.
I made a sincere attempt to live in the present, without annotations of religion or spirituality.
Then what is it that has brought me so close to you?
Closer than you think. Closer than you feel.
So much so that I can almost see you reading this while I am writing.
Stop it. It’s creepy.
I am not used to this, I realise.
So many eyes. Such a public life.
This is why I decided to shut down my social media and blog.
Words are silent. They are faceless. I can hide between the lines.
Intimacy isn’t attention — it’s being understood.
Breathing in different bodies and sharing the same energy.
This occasion of writing and publishing felt enough.
Nothing is supposed to happen, and nothing is happening.
What is meant to happen will happen, with or without my participation.
I took a break from writing for a while, and that is not natural for me.
I write. When I am happy, I write. Confused, angry, sad — I write.
So I did something unnatural to return to what is natural.
I made a deliberate attempt to write today.
***
I remember my art teacher telling me on the first day of training —
“You are not Picasso, and you will not become one in one day. Assume you are going to fail and start.”
Imperfection is motivating.
So I decided to write absolutely terrible words.
And this instinct was right. It kick-started the journey of blogging again.
Without constraints, without the pressure to please you.
But that’s the beauty of this relationship.
It is not inviting — it is welcoming.
Welcome. You are a character in this story.
My story is your story too.
Instincts are usually right.
I was paralysed by thoughts of perfection. I mind being seen; see through me instead.
I began listening to myself more than the noise around me — what it means to be, and what it means to be someone.
Presence is more important than performance. It is when you are not trying to be anything.
***
I have lived a very unconventional life.
Made many mistakes.
But I don’t explain myself to anybody.
I lived a normal life, just like everybody else.
I picked different problems to solve, but I did pick some.
I chose my own fights, just like everybody else does.
Whatever I picked, I always chose peace.
Choosing peace becomes an act of self-care.
And from choosing peace, boundaries arise.
Boundaries that reject ideas that don’t fit your nature.
Boundaries that filter the people who drain your energy.
Boundaries that keep situations away that no longer serve your greater good.
***
A life lived is a life compelled to change every moment.
A life well lived is one lived in acceptance of that change.
Nothing is unconditional. You have to give something to take something.
Unconditional love doesn’t mean unconditional tolerance — unlearn that.
Moreover, boundaries can cost you people.
Sometimes, even innocent people feel uncomfortable being around. It is no one’s fault.
Boundaries.
***
An attempt is better than trying.
An attempt is decisive — you attempt, and you get a result.
Trying can go on for years, even lifetimes.
Sometimes you have to stop seeing the good in people and start seeing what they consistently show you.
Sometimes you have to look at life and see it as it is.
What it consistently shows.
This is a natural way of living.
Not going to the jungles and eating grass. I hate it. I don’t do it.
And still — you create, you trust yourself, you keep going.
Because creative time is never wasted time…
It’s how you come home to who you really are.