Sanity is a beautiful thing

IMG_20180412_010315Life speeds up unexpectedly. In that busy time the few moments you can snatch to keep your sanity intact seems so much more important in today’s context. Not because we are busy but because of the technological onslaught there is a constant buzz in the background which frankly sometimes goes beyond annoying into territory that is hurtful. That’s where the daily coffee and tea rituals come in handy. I’m a late convert, and I scoffed at it earlier calling it dependancy, but I realize its importance now. A small pocket of quiet time is what keeps you you.

You wish you could take a breather and have all that time to yourself but you know being busy, and doing something is what is keeping you sane. You can’t help but be grateful for your life’s purpose in whatever way it has found you. Has nobody told you? Sanity is a beautiful thing. It even keeps you alive. I should know I lost a friend to a deep depression which people casually. or should I say carelessly dismiss as the blues.

That smart woman, Leila Seth rightly named her autobiography On Balance. Balance is key to a peaceful existence. School moral science lectures turn out to be true, in the end (How I love to use the words in the end when nothing is ever the end until it’s the end.) Sanity is fragile and tenuous but don’t let anyone tell you that sanity just is.


In life there are few moments when you experience a kind of stillness which changes something in you, a perceptible shift occurs. Without being aware of it the conscious has changed. I hadn’t recorded my experience in any form then. It was days later I thought about that dusk inching closer to an inky night, in the wee hours of the morning in another kind of stillness, of dawn breaking and banishing darkness. I can’t quite put my finger on what it was but feeling centered and belonging to the moment as it unfolded was a big part of it.

The winding village road was bereft of street lights. The stars looked so bright without light pollution that I wondered why we were crammed in the city. The path through green meadows where a lighthouse like light moved on both sides made it all the more surreal. I remember there was a waning moon and it looked ethereal. Was it my imagination or the quality of light was different than the one in the city?

I wonder what would travelling alone on a bike, moving with the wind and experiencing it with every fibre of my being feel like. I guess that is why people travel. To live out their unlived lives.

The moment was fleeting (aren’t moments like these always fleeting yet so much is contained in that moment) and even though I was surrounded by people it was as if no one existed. In the silence my mind was completely still. In these rare moments of stillness I feel something I can’t quite explain. Is it what feeling one with the universe and acutely being in the present moment feels like? I intend to find out.

Have you experienced such moments of stillness?