The depths of September

"And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."

Haruki Murakami in 'Kafka on the shore'

Over the years, I've figured the things that keep my wavering mind in check; a long run, a walk in nature, a swim, a workout, stretching my body, a session of Jiujitsu, completing a long-due chore at home, playing and listening to music.

Of these, I was left with only the last option throughout most of September due to my recovery following a meniscus repair surgery in the end of August. First two weeks I was using a walker and the next two I was using crutches. So, most of the activities that keep me in good spirits were no more an option. I had to improvise.

I took stock of the things I could indeed do. Got my sticks and drum pad out to practice rudiments; something I hadn't been doing for years. I got my keyboard out to learn chords and guitar out to learn scales. I carried with me on the walker a toolkit for keeping myself occupied; a book to read, a book to write in, my reading spectacles, a laptop, a water bottle. I wrote a few articles including documenting some of my amma's recipes, a poem, I learnt some drum rudiments, a few keyboard chords and at least one guitar scale. I cleaned up the cabinet with my music collection of vinyls (photos of the albums on this post) and CDs and listened to some of them, pure bliss.

By the third week of September, the fog still caught up to me but by then a few things improved. I could go for a walk with my dogs to the beach everyday with my walker or crutches; something that I had been doing for the last 6 years. I could see the sea after two weeks, water always has a calming effect on me. I could play the kick drum with my right leg and got back on the kit to practice all the rudiments I learnt with the rubber drum pad. I made a few batches of fizzy kombucha and also hosted an air bnb experience brewing kombucha. I started helping out with the chores at home which my wife had been handling patiently for a couple of weeks. And the fog lifted. Every day I needed to set out and complete a couple of achievable tasks to avoid the fog in the bog.

I've got a few more tasks lined up to achieve in sober October too - some gardening, stretches and exercises that I can manage, some strength training, lot more writing hopefully and a lot less time on the phone, which I have been incessantly partaking in September.

September was indeed a storm but for sure it is coming to an end. And I have come out of it a changed person too! I will never again forget that being able to stand, walk and run is the biggest luxury, and will never forget the importance of keeping my mind's knives sharp, for, they rust easy. I like to think that the stormy September has taught me an important lesson.

Lows and highs—ebbs and tides—fall and rise

The sea water during high tide on a beach gushes in loudly and surprises me with how high it rises. It moves in slowly but reaches out far in and grasps as much sand and other substrate as it can and drags it back. Then, there is a lull that lasts a brief moment. Apparently, it is possible to realise this lull, to even hear the silence, before the tide turns. Within a few seconds, the low tide begins and slowly the water recedes, till the next lull and the next high tide—an infinite cycle.

My mind works in the same way, in as far as I have known. There is no way for me to find out if it works this way for others too. There is a period of a lowest-low and then slowly the rise begins. In this phase, I can usually accomplish a lot more things than I expect of myself. And for both these, I have triggers. Having lived with this cycle as long as I have been around, I have started documenting what the triggers are. For several years, I was grappling with the lows; calling them blues, depression, listlessness, lack of motivation, and other similar words. I am still dealing with them, but I am now more aware of the patterns. There are highs and lows and brief peaceful moments in between and there are triggers for the switch between the phases. As long as I am aware of this chaology, I can address, a few times avoid, and at other times even remain calm through a storm. In the chaos lies the peace within; and it is inevitable for me to embrace it.

The triggers must differ for others but a run, a long walk, some time spent gardening definitely can tip my mood from a low to high or a good one to better. Writing, definitely helps too as you possibly figure seeing this blog and its posts! In any case, being aware of each of these phases and knowing that the tide will turn for sure is immensely useful.

I look forward to writing more often on my blog this year; see you back here in a few!

Rex takes me to the sea everyday.