Dear Maryam
Dear young soul,
Where you feel most content is the essence of who you are. The moments in life when what you are doing engulfs you, and for a second, life is simple. Find that, let it become you. Let it never be taken from you or forgotten about as life and her worries take over. Promise me that, young one.
Like the hour you spent in the garden sketching lavender, the curves of her green leaves and stems, with a broken pencil. You grew tired, slid down to the stone floor and rested there, your eyes still trained on the purple hues decorating the view beneath grey clouds. You were the last one out there, after your classmates grew tired and, with mumbled complaints, trailed back indoors. Your sketching was nothing extraordinary, nothing as captivating as Sunflowers Van Gogh brought to life so exquisitely. Yet it caught the attention of someone, as he walked slowly around the greenery and saw you resting there, amongst the shades of spring. Your eyes never moved from the grey lines, soft and smokey, decorating the textured pages of your sketchbook. You’ll never know whether he was drawn to you, or to what you were drawing. He stood there so close but said nothing, afraid to disrupt the quiet that had embraced you. Just watching, the picture of a young girl, head titled toward her book as though nothing else mattered in the chaos of her youthful days. That was the first moment you felt it, that amongst nature, there was a sense of serenity.
Like the breeze that hit your face as you laid out in the sun, the December month not one of snow and white capped roofs as it would have been back home, but of an endless, golden coast. Even the laughter and the waves didn’t drag your attention from the book with words scattered across it in a different language. Madre, Padre, Hermana. With the words engrossed in your mind, you laid the book down and gazed across the beach with a feeling of calm filling your soul. Your mother walked toward you, her little son in her arms with his hands clasping her neck. She carried him from the sea to the safety of the seat beside you. He was young, knew nothing of the world around him but knew that his wet feet touching the dry sand was something he disliked. You smiled and then leaned back, allowing your eyes to close. You knew then, that if you weren’t amongst nature and the beauty Mother Earth had to offer, you wouldn’t find a content similar.
Like the steep walk up the mountain, tired feet and a tired body. Yet your eyes glanced from side to side intently, your mind awake. The cold bite of the wind was only a gentle breeze to you, your pink cheeks the only tell of the cold dancing around the countryside. You would glance back every so often, making sure your companion was seeing what you were. But in her tired state, she merely focused on reaching the end. Still, her company was precious. You admired the jagged outline of the rocks, the rushing stream beneath the wooden bridge, the fluctuating elevations in the horizon. The green diminished slowly, replaced with grey, a charcoal, rocky expanse. But still, the mountain top called out, and your feet carried on. You remember that, don’t you? When you breathed a sigh of admiration at the beauty of the sight before you. The countless mountain peaks you had passed faded into the back of your mind as you stopped and gazed at the valley before you. The curved shape that covered the horizon, green pockets decorating the slopes. The gentle fall and hanging trees that lined the centre, announcing themselves every few metres at the centre of the valley. Your body ached. The walking had taken its toll, and you were breathless. You glanced at your companion, her eyes a tell of the beauty she too saw. I can’t imagine it now, the serenity of the place. I wish I could. You knew then for sure, that this was where you were meant to be. I wish for you to find that peace in all of nature, to live your life amongst the trees, and the coast, and the mountains. To find again and again that contentedness you feel with Mother Nature, and not forget it as life rushes toward you.
Take care,
Old soul.
Maryam Arshad is an emerging writer and poet, with interests in environmental and climate justice, and sustainable futures. She is currently working on a magazine which will showcase the work of women around the world, through the mediums of art, initiatives and protest who are fighting for justice and the environment. She has an upcoming poem published in the augural issue of the Analogies & Allegories Magazine.