March 21 is a significant day for me for various reasons. Of course, it is Poetry Day, so I deem it to be significant, and the other reason it is of prime importance to me is that it is the death anniversary of my dad. Every year I have been ruminating this day with poems and prose pieces. The thought that someone is not with you anymore can be daunting. In all these years, things have rapidly changed. New people, cultural landscape, places have changed.
To me, this day only re-orients my life to what is important. The people, the experience, the peace are all that matters. The nagging sense of trying to be someone has always haunted me. The flame of ambition has never stalled; it gets brighter every day. Along with this ambition restlessness sets in. It is like being stuck in a place. Though this place is safe, the people are kind, the sense of not accomplishing anything still nags me. I know people might point out many reasons why I should be satisfied.
The problem I concur is not me, but my idea of death. Ever since the death of my dad I have always felt my time was coming up soon. I wanted to do more before my time would eventually come. But in being this urgent with life, I think I am stopping myself from enjoying the little things. One of the paradoxes of life I guess. The ultimate trick in life is to have balance. Sometimes it is better to be urgent, and other times it is important to be slow. Next year the world would be a different place. People would have moved on, and so would my goals. I would have achieved some, and I would have failed in some.