Art of the moment, in letter & spirit

Sukhmani Kaur

Inside me, words screamed. The blank paper stared at my hand. An absurd silence walked in. A writer struggling with her pen is akin to a warrior propitiating her beloved sword. Soldier, get up and conquer the world, I was told. The world isn’t meant to be conquered. The war has always been inside, I realised.

Writing had abandoned me. Art doesn’t embrace you every time. I was caged in my thoughts which refused to be reflected. I used to write only to converse with my soul. And now, there were no talks, just stony eyes. Time had gone dry.

The nectar inside has to be chased, cherished, sipped from time to time. This blob of sensitivity is an artist’s biggest treasure, which I was losing. Dear, the nectar is never lost, I remind myself. The shell outside solidifies.

Big city life, lack of solitude, vicious routine, heavy baggage – the shells are different in everyone. Some of us break these through travel, music or leisure. Some escape through spirits and some through spirituality.

I waited. I waited for an inspiration to combat my complacency, to create, write and rediscover. And one day, a moment of enlightenment came my way:

The tiniest candle is enough to dispel decades-old darkness. A little dark cloud is all an arid land longs for. A small act of kindness rekindles hope in humanity. And thus, the mind’s hardened dust is cleared just by a simplistic wipe of positivity. Shells melt.

A quote of Buddha, an elderly neighbour’s childhood story, an ant finding her way out of a computer keyboard, a mason’s hard work in the sun, an infant’s smile at that ice-cream shop, colour patches on road in the spring—- every moment vibrates with inspiration. It has something to give. Be. Hold. Let it flow.

Even in those times of grief, anxiety and confusion, there passes a moment which can be grabbed to feel alive. The very feeling of being into the moment was what I missed. On my bed, I was on Facebook. At the park, I was embroiled in my career plans. At the kitchen, I was in taste of yesterday’s meal. If nothing else, I was in the world of my imagination. I was never into the passing moment and so, felt missing.

It’s not possible to simply get away from future worries or yesterday’s memories, but it’s possible to pick up a moment to smile, to absorb what it offers and feel grateful. Peace is in the present. Peace is the present.

There is art in living into moments, so simple, yet so complex — the feeling of nothingness, but a sense of abundance. Each moment is soaked in the nectar of life. We must ‘just be’ ready to drink.

With such droplets of hope, I picked up my pen again.

Here I am.