Beyond Scribbles

Sometimes,
I feel
we are not loving life
as it deserves
to be loved. 

One unexpected hurdle, 
and we say, 

“I am stuck
because life happened.” 

As if life
is something 
that happens to us. 

As if the unplanned
is always unpleasant. 

As if life
only slips past us,
pulling us away
from our dreams. 

As if life
is not something
we live. 

As if it is not
the sum total
of our days,
our actions,
our thoughts,
our reactions,
our responses. 

As if life and we
are two separate things
altogether. 

I wonder, 

why do we alienate ourselves
from the life we live? 

Why do we vilify life? 

Why do we forget
to see it
as something
absolutely, truly ours? 

We blame
the extra pounds
our body carries
on hormones, 

as if those hormones
are not ours. 

We blame
our brain
when we forget, 

as if the brain
is not ours either. 

But isn’t all of it us? 

Our body,
our mind,
our brain,
our hormones,
our reactions,
our passions,
our life? 

Where do we begin
if not
in the life
we are living? 

Who are we
without all of it? 

I wonder
if our naivety
will ever begin
to peel away
its layers. 

Life happens, yes. 

But we happen
alongside it. 

Perhaps
the better way
of looking at it
is this—

circumstances happen, 

and we redefine life
in the best way
we possibly can. 

Isn’t that always
the case? 

Our life is ours
to live,
to claim,
to own,
to love. 

Not something
that simply happens
as we breathe
in and out. 

Maybe
we can stop blaming life
when things don’t go
as expected. 

Maybe
we can stop blaming
one small part of us
for the heaviness
of the whole. 

Maybe then,
life would not feel
so distant,
so heavy,
so complex. 

Maybe then,
we would remember—

life is not
against us. 

Life is us,
unfolding.
Let’s consider that, shall we?

© Vinitha Dileep

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This piece is written in response to the three hundred and sixth edition of Fiction Monday inspired by the word prompt – CONSIDER hosted by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.

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