I have sat for the past two hours and pretended to write, not having thought of a single thing. Mainly because I woke up so relaxed, in such a trance that the veil has not yet lifted off me. But since it is Saturday, and there is not much to do on Saturdays anymore, I think I will have to sit and conjure some words after all. I often think of how I have changed my days gradually. From continual motion and almost no progress, I am now moving so much slower, perhaps, slower than I have ever before, but towards something. I do not yet know what that is yet. But you often feel progress when it happens. You do not wake up one day having reached somewhere instantly. You bear with the journey and the not knowing.
When you sit on a train, unless you know the route by memory, you often pass stations you have never seen. It does not bother you, and the not knowing does not impact whether you reach the place or not. If in some world, for some reason, the ticket master came and quizzed people with questions like, “what station did we just pass?” or “do you know where we are?” at random, lest they be thrown off the train, no one would get anywhere. To not know where we are at a given point has no say in where we end up; it only means we are on our way.
As relaxed as I woke up, I did manage some chores, sliced up an apple and had it for breakfast with my coffee. It is a Saturday well done, from where I stand. Perhaps, as the day gets on, I will spend some time with family, go for a walk and watch a movie or read a book, if time allows. As I move towards my late twenties, with the days ticking one after the other, I notice how this lethargy is part and parcel of being an adult. I used to look at people who were grown up when I was a child, and I was baffled by how slowly they moved. And now, here I am, cutting up apples and thinking that is enough for a day—to eat healthier. But again, I wonder, what else must a person do to justify their time?
And come to think of it, I am writing as well, aren’t I?