Another year, another decade, another world.
“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I hear her breathing.”
— Arundathi Roy
Before Lakshmi, Kamadhenu, and Dhanvantari arose from the ocean of milk, those churning it needed to survive the Alahalam and have it contained. (If you’re unfamiliar with the legend, here’s the summary.)
In the minutes leading to midnight on New Year Eve, I came across the quote by Arundhati Roy, and it - against the backdrop of the legend of Ksheera Sagara Madanam - seemed like an encapsulation of the tumultuous past year (several years) and the hope for what’s to come.
This past year felt like a modern-day Halahalam, with the twin pandemics of racism and violence tearing through the country while millions of people struggle to survive, but in that time, we’ve seen incredible grassroots mobilization across America fighting for voting rights, agency, and equity and a grassroots crusade to help stem the pandemic led by essential workers (in and out of the medical profession) and individuals making the decisions to put community wellbeing over personal gratification.
I know the quarantine - whether enforced by governments or self-imposed in an effort to stem the tide of cases - has been an opportunity for many of us to reflect and realign our lives with what’s most important to us. It was also when we collectively turned to the arts. Be it books, music, movies and TV shows, dance, the ARTS that sustained people, providing an escape, providing hope.
For me, personally, 2020 has been a year of growth and a time to prepare, but not in the way I imagined this time last year. There were many tragedies, both public and personal. I’ve said what I can about those in various posts over the year. There were the tangible milestones: I completed my masters degree in Kuchipudi - a journey that both forced me to both venture into choreography and put down on paper (and convince others) of the framework through which I’ve been understanding Kuchipudi over the years. I turned 30. I marked twelve years with my partner. I conducted a series of interviews with dancers and singers for ICAPS. I performed a choreography for Aguas Arts Ink’s “Songs of Freedom” show (while eight months pregnant!). I voted for my first presidential election. I gave birth to a beautiful girl and watched my son blossom into a big brother.
Then, there are the intangible, the things that have felt like fundamental realignments that hopefully set the stage for the next decade. Brené Brown, the patron saint of vulnerability, nudged me along the way by giving me the language to understand these shifts. I think in lieu of resolutions, I want to take stock of these shifts and capture them in words. What better time than the start of a new year, a new decade, and one coming out of such rapidly changing times?
Be Vulnerable.
“Strong Back, Soft Front, Wild Heart.” - Brené Brown on her podcast “Unlocking Us”
I have always felt very clear about my worldview and my principles - always had a strong back.
Wild heart has also been more natural instinct for me - I cannot help but choose the path that seems right for me, even in the face of doubt and criticism from others, and I distinctly remember thinking, even as a teenager, that I’d rather make my own decisions and fail miserably than to tepidly and resentfully follow a successful path laid out by others. With the certainty only teens have, I remember declaring to a friend one day, “I’d rather [a particular bad decision] be my fault rather than resent my parents for the rest of my life about it.”
Soft front, however, is a challenge. Vulnerability has always been difficult for me - a paradox given that dance and writing are two mediums that necessitate vulnerability. Over the past few years, I have been inching more and more toward vulnerability by saying yes to opportunities where I need to present my perspective and understanding, yes to opportunities where I perform, yes to practicing pieces that push me psychologically.
This very website, the clips of my dance that I’ve posted, these have always been dipping a toe into vulnerability. Part of that effort has been to remind myself that it’s okay to take up space, to draw attention, to bring a chair to the room. This has been true both professionally and personally, and while I’ve been heading in that direction for a while, this year, I was hit with the clarity that my instincts to defend my heart are the dead weight holding me back. Choosing vulnerability is something I will likely need to do daily for the rest of my life to see my goals come to fruition. Otherwise, this armor will sink me.
Be Joyful.
“No one has ever told me my joy is important, so it must be the most important thing. It must be something that people are actively trying to keep us from. It must be something that I honor and cherish and protect and show up for. It is the thing that heals me, right? It is the thing that got me out of bed when I had no hope left.”
I think a lot of us in the Indian diaspora chase success, which is often described as a checklist for a good life: getting into the gifted program and accelerated learning programs, getting a “good seat” in college, finding a “good match”, buying the house, the car(s), blah, blah, blah. I understand the urge for this checklist - the idea that if you do the “right” things, they will somehow provide for a comfortable life.
But comfortable in what sense? A gilded cage is still a cage.
I don’t mean that those things on the checklist are a cage. I’ve chosen a lot of them myself. But I’ve chosen them, on my own terms. The (targeted) good grades, the college, marriage, the house, the cars, kids, I’ve chosen every one of those things because I wanted them, not because I was being told to pursue them.
I fell into the productivity trap in the last few years, measuring my life in checklists and outputs - “write a post weekly or you’ve failed.” “Do this bulleted list of things each morning or you’ve failed" “Work and be mom and be a dancer and be a writer every day or you’ve failed.” This set up cycles of manic efforts, followed by depressed days on a couch for not getting results or sticking with the regimen. I also noticed that the most fulfilling days were those when I wasn’t trying to be productive, and they would come when I’d allow myself space to be, and that joy was always involved.
Because, frankly, only machines can cough up outputs in predictable intervals. And, if I didn’t allow myself space to be, to think, to wonder, to fail, I wasn’t allowing myself to experience joy, I was treating it as a commodity, which it most definitely is not.
I’ve decided I must pursue joy — the infinite, cosmic joy that connects souls and tells hard truths and gives strength during crises and fights the evils in society and pursues beauty.
Be Heroic.
“The journey of the hero is about the courage to seek the depths; the image of creative rebirth; the eternal cycle of change within us; the uncanny discovery that the seeker is the mystery which the seeker seeks to know.” - Joseph Campbell
In addition to putting into words this idea of radical joy, the joy fuels revolutions, the conversation between Brené Brown and Gabby Rivera fundamentally reframed the way I see myself. The hero’s journey stopped being a literary structure, and became a way to look at my own life. The idea that I have a calling, that the mentors in my life are my Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda, that it’s clarifying, not presumptuous, to see myself as a protagonist on a mission.
When I was very young, I knew the family narrative - my mom wanted to be a dancer for as long as she could remember. My aunt wanted to be a doctor forever. Me? I was drawn to a lot of different things and didn’t have a single-minded answer, and I thought that was a problem, something I needed to be defiant about (see “Be Vulnerable”).
During my late teens and early twenties - I was pulled in many directions and I threw myself into these things, but I felt like “jack of all trades” for failing to commit to any single one. Now, however, I’m seeing those things in a different light. I don’t need to question the meandering path I’ve been following. My “all-over-the-place” pursuits have honed a unique skillset specifically helping me down my own path, and I need to decide, “Do I accept this mission?”
Stay tuned.
Not just for my hero’s journey, but for yours and everyone else’s. Now’s the moment to take it all in before diving back into minutiae of daily life. And if you observe closely, you might also hear the breathing of another world.
