Space
The tangible and intangible of it
I inhabit my chocolate-y silent
World,
Folded with a whiff of vanilla,
I hear the lollipops sizzle,
My ice-cream tasting
like salt…
Space: the tangible and intangible of it
From our birth till death we cover a space called life.
Most of the time we heap this space with tangible materials viewable, giving us that intangible feeling of security that we belong;
-belong to the world, where we are made to rotate on a 3D ball by a scientific adhesive called gravity,
-belong to the society, loosely glued by relationship, family & friends
-belong to ourselves, tied to our worldly possessions, giving us that air of unseen confidence.
As children, our space is permeated with books, syllabus, examinations, and of course fairy tales.
Stepping into adulthood our space has new occupants in the form of work, deadlines, family, and that obvious ‘no space to breathe’.
This carries on till we reach a point where we often fill our whole space with slow, heaving sighs for a life spent running after our shadow and unrequited dreams.
Born a Sapien, vrooming through life, we all encounter and nurture different ideas of space in subsequent phases of it.
As young adults, we negotiate through real brick-n-mortar space challenges, where we make happy with small apartments (packed with furniture and stuff, whatever affordable with the meager salary we draw).
As we go along solving tangible space challenges, the intangible factor of ‘space occupation theory’ rear its’ ugly head. Stress, anxiety, unfulfilled ambition, and unseen demons inside start marring the space which once housed dreams, love, and fantasies.
When wrinkles and grey begin to replace the toned and the black, for many the space they inhabit gets filled with vacuum.
Space for different people, for one individual in different stages of life, will hold a different meaning.
For me, Space changed its meaning in a way least expected, quite early in life.
The very idea of space
I was 28 when I fell severely sick. To an extent that I was on the verge of leaving my job.
Not many of my colleagues believed, I do not have any offer letter at my disposal, and will be homebound for some time now just to recuperate when my career was taking the upward flight. But that’s exactly what I did. I left my job after few months of exhausting decision-storming and deliberation.
A space once filled with screeching office furniture, cracking jokes, screaming boss, banter, and cacophony suddenly fell silent. A silence quieter than silence, touching the very depth of my existence. A sense of vacuum engulfed me, which felt like being enveloped in an oxygen-less quilt, with no breathing space.
Following several attempts to enter a regular workspace, subsequently being diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder that impacted the spine, I sensed it was time to my life in a different light.
A thorough introvert and not a lover of social hangings, being out of my workspace meant moving around with my limbs severed.
Every morning I entered my workspace engulfed by silence seating face to face with my solitude, with nothing much to articulate. More the confusion, brain haze, swinging mood (all a derivative of my pathological reality) began to take precedence, more was I anxious to break free.
And this is when my conversation with silence commenced, in my own space, in my own terms.
The experience was liberating. I was the owner of my body and mind space moving and shaking at my own will. The syllable ‘job less’ suddenly became synonymous with ‘boss less’ and I pressed the ‘start up’ button for life.
It was a gradual process of alphabets replacing numbers and taking more literary form, being slow-baked into verses depicting me, my thoughts, my emotions often without my knowledge. The space inside my measured body slowly started connecting to the outside space, seamless, often evocatively. A new route of communication was established between me and my milieu, which consisted of my verdant surround, often infused with friends and family.
My study table, my Mac, often the dictionary and thesaurus mingled with my thoughts, mind plays, the emotional weave has created a new space I call my ‘Office’. And it is from this space that I write. Write to document facts, life’s anecdotes, feelings, emotions and wish to make this world a little more liveable.
It is from this space that I wish to touch a mind today and everyday living in dark, and carry him/ her to light, to a space of hope and happiness.
If my writings (poems to be precise) re-kindle a fallen soul any day with or without my knowledge, I will know I have lived a beautiful life!
I gather as per Medium rules I am not eligible for any prize money, still, I wanted to share what and how I felt about SPACE.
Thank you Denise Larkin for providing my expressions it's home.
