Stripped Bare.

There are days when I am wary of looking at myself in the mirror. Mornings actually. Followed by an entire day of slushing through.

It all starts with not knowing what to wear. Always. One mismatched outfit and I am scowling.

The days I match my accessories to my blouse, my shoes, my handbag are the days I feel like I own the world.

And yet, on those days and on a day like today. I'm still the same me.

I mean, I did all what James Altucher say I ought to do. I started off with my meditation, reading religious text, listing the people I am grateful for. It was a formula for success!

Except, it wasn't. I was up at 6:30 am and by 10 am I was scowling. Mad at Ryz for something he didn't do. And wanted to spend time on my own.

Me, who's conjoined at the hip with him on most days.

It felt strange. I felt strange. Like I was on some sort of a detox.

Except I'd been eating fine. And there were no food toxins to leave my body.

It was just the old fashioned toxins.

I haven't used my head and my heart in such close proximity in a while! Not since the life coaching certification.

I felt raw. Vulnerable today.

Exposed.

As if everyone could peer into my soul. Like I did this morning.

It's taken me hours to write. Hours.

Finally reading 10% of, "Choose Yourself", a concoction made of oatmeal and dates, and about 8 glasses of water later, I am here to write.

And to think this is Day 1.

A part of me wants to project 6 months into the future to figure out how I'll be. How sorted I will be.

And then I resist. I want to listen to myself and take the natural course.

Take in all that I feel, where I go with this and what's coming.

Deep exhale.

I've done 60-day juice fasts in the past. A 6-month overall cleanse should be fun.

This is going to be fun.

Always About the Journey

We left Lahore from a 3:50 am flight. We arrived in Vancouver (our final destination for now) at 10:20 pm. That's exactly 30.5 hrs of traveling, door to door.

My longest yet.

It was nearly midnight by the time we reached our apartment. By the time we showered and got ready for bed, it was 1 am.

I got into bed after him, sorting out our suitcases and stuff in the kitchen that Chacha left out for us.

I was cold, tired, a bit hungry and generally disoriented.

3 cities in 30 hours. On less than 6 hours of sleep. Now I realize what I felt. At that time I was too tired to even think.

And then I got into bed. And Ryz turned to hug me in his sleep.

"Happy first night," he said.

And in that moment, despite the exhaustion and eddy of being in so many places and making so many decisions. I felt a sense of absolute calm. I was reminded of why I was here.

I was home. Here. Now.

Everything with Ryz, with us, has always, always been about the journey.

Celebrating our series of firsts, 6 years of being married. 13 years of knowing one another.

Just living our days in wonder of life, love and each other. The things we do, the places we see, the people we meet (and stay away from), are all part of our journey.

I seldom get reminded of the big picture with him. I know it's there, and that we share it. Together with one another. And that's enough.

So much to be thankful for, alhamdu lillah. On our happy first morning.

How I Wonder

Will I always be fascinated by watching Ryz sleep?

I sure hope so.

That Squeeze.

Sometimes when I see a beloved book on a bookshelf at a store or a cafe, I want to hug it.

To press it close to my chest and hang on to it until I've paid for it with my free hand and they've handed me a receipt for it.

Like today, on finding Seamus Heaney's collected prose at The Cafe Upstairs. What a rare treasure!

I hugged it tight for a while before moving away from the shelf.

There you are! Am I happy to see you. Come, we need to talk. I want to know everything about you that I've missed.

I can't do that with an e-book. Hug a title, that is.

The rest of the meeting is just as exuberant. Just the squeeze is missing.

When Abu Takes the Wheel

Seasons come and go. They turn into years.

I've been through so many relationships.

I've known how to love in capacities and bounds. Friends, friendships, associations, love, marriage, in-laws.

Safe to say I've grown considerably over the years.

And yet, to sit in the passenger seat in the car while my father drives, I feel like a little girl.

Expecting a treat. Not the kind you'd eat. That's probably what I would have expected as a child.

Now I know the best treat of sitting with him in a car, with him all to myself.

The treat lies in learning something new, still. And to be able to look at the world differently, once more.

I'm looking too much into it? Hardly. All of this took place in the solitary zap as soon as the wheels rolled into movement.

Alhamdu lillah, for being consumed by so much all at once, and still have space to contain more for the future.

Argh. That Feeling.

When you read what someone says about love, and wish you'd come up with the same choice of words. Only before them, to make it your own and in effect, to give it to him.

Things I wish I'd penned for Ryz before someone else wrote them. For whomever or whatever. 

Feelings like, "I've learned to count on you as my own fingers." Feelings I've learned, and have become a part of me.

Close enough to touch.