The first of the last eight nights: Silent Sea

"When we thought we had jumped into the cold water of the ocean, we were actually just on a lake. Good that we learned how to swim."

The sea is silent, the sea is roaring, but it holds so many things inside it. 

Today, I tried to think of the future. 
About the people I would meet, 
and I couldn't.


About the places I would be in, 
but I couldn't imagine. 
So I stopped. 


I have made plans, but I don't really know what will work out and what won't. All I have is the present, is the next week, and nothing else for sure. Maybe not even that. All I can live for is the present. The same lesson I kept learning and learning over and over again this year. Because all we have is the present moment, and whoever is there, and whoever is inside our hearts and minds. 


Now we can't really do anything. It's all been said and done. And the future is pounding on the road, pounding its hooves, and singing loudly about what shape it could have. (Except, unlike in the bird song, I don't know if I want it to shut up). 


India has many a lesson to teach, so does MUWCI. I knew it was a space for me to do what I want, a safe space of freedom to plan my day around it. But today talking to Arpita I realized I never knew what it did to me, until it all had happened. 


I can control so many things I do, but there's many more I can't control that I still do: today I learned these things also affect me back, whether I'm aware of it to not. 


So on the first of the last eight nights, I say: You never can control as many things as you wish you did. And that is good.