My Musings – Page 23 – Not your ordinary tales

Perspective Is a Power Move. Most People Never Learn It.

I thought I was paying attention. I could tell when someone got defensive, when a room shifted, when a word landed wrong. I thought I was reading the room. Turns out, I was just reading myself. Every situation was filtered through my world—my fears, my logic, my assumptions. I was reacting to my version of events, not what was actually happening. Which explains why I kept getting blindsided. Then came an argument that cracked the pattern. The kind that spirals fast—both of us talking louder, hearing less. In the middle of that mess, …

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Inspiration Has a Shelf Life. Open It Now.

I was halfway down a mountain in Uttarakhand when the first line of a blog post hit me. No laptop. No notebook. Just cracked lips, sore calves, and a sentence that refused to let go. I pulled out my phone. Opened the recorder. Spoke into it like I was delivering a voice note to myself from the edge of the world. A guide glanced back, probably wondering what I was doing talking to rocks. I didn’t care. That line came when it wanted to, and I wasn’t going to let it dissolve into the silence. Inspiration doesn’t show up when asked. It shows …

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The Plan Was Never the Problem. I Was.

There’s a notebook on my shelf, expensive and barely touched. Its first page holds promises carefully written, goals mapped out in color-coded precision—a vivid picture of a life that could easily fool anyone into thinking I had things completely under control. But those crisp lines and neatly drawn timelines don’t show the abandoned afternoons, when enthusiasm faded and doubt crept in, whispering that maybe I wasn’t cut out for the quiet persistence the plan demanded. I told myself I was agile, smartly pivoting when necessary, moving …

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The Day I Followed My Want Into a Wall

No one tells you how quietly a week can slip by when you don’t leave the house. It was a Tuesday. The kind that feels like a placeholder. I hadn’t showered. My inbox had fourteen unread emails—twelve marked urgent by people with no sense of proportion. The fruit in the fridge was fermenting into a science project. My husband stood near the sink, staring at a leaking tap like it owed him money. And I wanted a croissant. Not just a bite. A mission. The flakiest, warmest, crisp-on-the-outside croissant, possibly filled with almond cream …

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Forgiveness Isn’t a Group Project

There’s something strangely comforting about planning what you’ll say to someone who hurt you. You rehearse it in your head—maybe in the shower, maybe while pretending to listen during a work call. You imagine the shock on their face, the guilt finally catching up to them. You picture them saying, “I had no idea I did that to you. I’m sorry.” And just like that, your pain is validated, softened, maybe even erased. Except that’s rarely how it goes. More often, the pain sits untouched while you wait for an apology that may never come. You …

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will you know it’s me?

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