To be sitting on a wet grass

To be sitting on a wet grass – it’s 3:05 pm, and I’m at the office with a million things to finish, but I feel like if I didn’t write now, I won’t later, and I want to write because I’m the happiest I have been in for weeks. Happy enough to skip Metallica, at least.

Sunday was ideal. There was this moment when I sat on the grass next to the muddy river and just did nothing. We sat under a shadow, away from the humidity and the sun, and a warm breeze brushed my cheeks, and I could feel the coldness of the river under my feet, and someone was probably talking to me, but all I was aware of is that at that moment, on the wet grass, I found my peace of mind.

How frivolous it is to make all the noises go away, and I don’t mean the noises around us, because the waterfall was too loud that I couldn’t even play music, I mean the noises inside us that keep pushing us down when all we want to do is walk away.

I remember that moment right now, as I sit and laugh with my coworkers, as I talk about the most random things and make fun of the absurdity and atrocities we live through every day.

At that moment, and even though I still have a good amount of work to finish before the end of the day, I couldn’t but feel reminded that serenity exists in the darkest and mustiest of all places, that even though there is so much to bear and so much to feel, there still can be a moment of idyll whether near a muddy river on a warm Sunday, or when hearing the sound of laughs of people, or deep conversation with coworkers, or simply thinking of the food you will eat after work.

I have a big week ahead, mainly FoodBlessed long hours, but I’m almost apathetic to whatever might or would happen. Tomorrow is my last working day of this week as I’m on leave this Thursday, and Friday is a day off, so it’s basically a few more hours of fighting for women’s rights and gender equality, and then I switch to fighting hunger and poverty.

We spend our years fighting, if not for ourselves, for others, and it never ceases. We never cease to fight, and sometimes it’s not that worth it, and I ask myself, when can I stop fighting? When do I let go?