In your most private self, you always imagine a trajectory for your life. You might boast of adventure but deep down you do want some certainty, some sense of achievement. Most of your actions are dedicated towards that. You are conscious of them, most certainly because they protect a tangible end result.
And then there are moments that you just let slip through the cracks of time. They are like twinkling stars – too far to make sense of. But they are always there. It just takes a rare dark night to appreciate them. That sudden flash when you realise – they did play their part.
When you helped a stranger find a street. When you first read a book. When you first wrote a poem. When you left home for college. When you started reading a newspaper. When you danced and sang at a gathering, carefree. When you helped your parents at home. When you first cleaned your room yourself. When you found your first crush. When you stopped missing your parents as much. When you helped a friend in need. When you first failed in a course…
I could go on. But I hope you get my point. Not far from the noticeable sunshine of perceived achievement is a serene twinkle of ‘inglorious’ chain of events. Moments when your actions are not nearly as voluntary as you would like them to be. Moments you do the most obvious things that you are too bust to appreciate. Moments when you are indifferent to your self. Moments when you are yourself.
That’s is where life happens. Right when you are planning everything else. It keeps unfolding itself to you until you start paying attention.