On Being Brave

Assigning a proper title to a post or a story is perhaps the most difficult part of writing. How does one select just the one or two words that is meant to convey the many thoughts you've put down with so much effort? Maybe I should also turn to cataloging my posts. Number them instead of struggling to find a suitable title. Because honestly, if I had to come up with words to describe my posts, almost each one would be titled 'random thoughts'. And God knows that is in overuse anyway.

                                                    _________________________________

A friend had begun last year with a resolution to write a little something each day. Mostly poems. Three-hundred-and-sixty-five, poems. When I first found out, I didn't think she'd see it through. It's a tough target to meet and if you consider mood, inspiration, writer's block and whatnot, the ambition does appear a little too grand. And I was sure of not being the only one to think this.  

But over the course of the year, I saw how determined she was to not slip. Both Facebook and Instagram (the only social media platforms I have acquainted myself with) threw up a little poem everyday that gave an insight into her mind and moods. I haven't read each of the poems. In fact very few. But I did find myself looking out for them. Simply because after a while I was only interested  that she meet her goal. Don't stop now, i'd think to myself and then refresh every few hours to check if she has published something new. 

On days that she missed, it felt good to see that she compensated by posting multiple couplets. Again, I didn't read them. But little by little it made me feel proud to know she was keeping up. 

And I ask myself why? Why did I bother to know if somebody else was keeping up with their personal targets. And like every other answer in the universe, it lay within-

I've never been good with resolutions- both making them or keeping them. I've also always met those who either didn't bother to set targets for themselves or abandoned it halfway. Which is why, watching someone achieve their goals felt exhilarating in some way. You turn from being a silent spectator into a bit of a cheerleader. I guess it doesn't matter how big or small the ambition is. What matters is the consistency of one's effort. 

It also taught me the value of being brave. 

As a writer, I have always been extremely private. Much is written on the side when no one is watching. But nothing is ever shared. Because of, well, fear. 

Putting yourself out there is the scariest thing to do. Knowing that your personal thoughts will lie bare before people to know, analyse and judge. That opinions will follow and perhaps therefore, so will the need for justification. Such torture!

But then, there's also the thrill. Of creating something entirely of your own, giving voice to your thoughts and ultimately inviting participation from the world. The butterflies and the joy blend together into something new and indistinguishable. And such thrill can be quite addictive. 

She did it every single day. And in watching her go through the process, I learnt to be brave.

So here's to being diligent, courageous and baring it all. It's a process. But one worth going through. And thank you, dear friend. You've lived and taught your lessons well.