I am experimenting with stream-of-consciousness writing these days.

Letting the feelings and emotions run through, without filters. As I am doing right now. But then my inner critic and love for grammar and proper punctuation kick in and I start judging what I put on paper. I need to find a balance between the two.

Stay with me.

In all honesty, I did write two stream-of-consciousness articles recently and they didn’t get many views at all. Which brought my ego down a bit.

And then I read this thoughtful story yesterday that rekindled my love for writing freely, without worrying about the stats or who reads my words. I do it for myself because I can’t not do it.

Do you too?

The thoughts are on top of each other in my head; they need to find a home on this blank page.
I need to tell you about the restless nights I have recently had when my body is still, and my mind flows into another dimension. Where it goes, I don’t know. The energy in the Himalayas, where I am right now is so strong and palpable. If you stretch your hand you can feel it brushing your fingers.

I have been sleeping on the balcony the past two nights on a not-so-conformable makeshift bed handmade by a man who was carrying it in the back of his scooter. He had to bring it up two flats of stairs to deliver it to where it is now.

It’s hot and muggy, rainy season is like this. But the sky is precious at night, the star illuminating the darkness all around me. My two pups lay down by my side, as my guardian angels. There are snow panthers in this area that look just like black tigers and I hope one will not decide to jump and make a feast out of us. I’m willing to take the risk. Hellen Keller’s quote is my motto,

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.”

I dream of comforts and easiness, of how the past seems so distant and yet around the corner. Memory brings me back to the large blue Floridian home where I lived for twenty years, in which nothing was missing except my happiness. I remember the orange sparkled kitchen counter; so many meals were prepared on its top.

Past, present, and future intertwine to make the now.

What is this? I ask myself. Snap back into reality, Elena. I urge myself to make peace with it all. I whisper as if speaking to someone else: you did it! You are no longer that person, tiptoeing around the emotions and feelings of the one who lived with you. May he rest in peace with the angels.

My arms as feathers like ballerina wings. My mind stuffed with tablecloth of all the undigested meals eaten together, keeping my disobedient tongue barely under control.

The voices in the head shout their guilty desires. This is your past Elena. It can make you miserable or you can stay present, listen to the screaming voices of your reassuring soul, and follow it to its depth.
I choose the latter and here I am in a whole other dimension. Looking at the Indian sky, waiting for the sun to rise so I can feed the two crows that visit me every morning for their daily dose of food. Shooing the monkeys and listening to the colored birds singing their songs.


If you’re not happy with the life you are living now you can change it.

You are not stuck.

You are not a tree.

Listen to your deepest voices and follow their guidance. You don’t need to know the whole path, you just need to start walking toward it.

Thanks for reading.


Meditate with me.

Originally posted on Medium.