Life Happened ... now what?
I found this little gem ( my husband's diary) in a box tucked away in our home office. It's dated 1996 and is filled with his beautiful poetry. He's a literary genius in Urdu ; very well read, and wise beyond his years. Every time I share something interesting that I've read with him he usually smiles at my excitement and tells me he read that years ago and provides more insight to that piece of literature. I've always replied somewhere along the lines of " You're just old".
But he's not.He's just an old soul. A tired old soul. Every poem written by him in that diary is dated carefully and the last time he wrote was in 2003. Which is a very long time ago. I asked him why he stopped writing, and after a few seconds of silence came two carefully crafted words. " Life happened".
Which is sad to the say the least.. sad that life happened, and sad that he stopped writing. Me being me, I tried wheedling him into picking up the pen again. Him being him , he politely refused .
It wasn't until I tried enticing him with the proposition of creating art based on his poetry that he has finally started to reconsider his stance on the matter. The point is that he should write.
I should write.
We should all write or create in some form.
Write a little, paint a little, sing a little...
To live a little...
Too often our creativity is stunted by the disapproval of
By the burden of responsibility
The disdain of the less talented
And our inate fear of being rejected
If we create from the heart and create from the soul , maybe we'll touch a few hearts as we go. I picked up my paintbrush after a 10 year hiatus and wrote after a 15 year one. And my restless soul has never felt more at peace .Because I truly believe that art in any form has the power to heal.