I need a notebook right now. Like now. Before I forget what’s on my mind, I gotta jot it down. I will get back to it later, when I am more inspired and fill it in. I will then give it a closure and wrap it up. Ok, now where is the notebook? Isn’t there one empty notebook in this house? Empty pages are all of what I see when I walk around looking for practically anything in this house. Just like Murphy’s, I would not find that ‘always seen’ notebook when I am looking for it. There it is!
This book has seen a lot. Are you confused? Please don’t be. I know why it sounds funny that I call an empty notebook to have seen a lot. I will tell you why, in just a little bit.
The first time I picked this notebook, I got it in a desperate mood. I felt like there was an indispensable place and need for this book because I was stepping into the next learning curve at work. So I had this rush to take notes. A lot of notes. That’s how this notebook became mine to keep. I needed it so badly back then, that it has been lying unused for over three months now, obviously because I had gotten it for an immediate purpose. Genius move.
By the way, this is not the first page of this notebook. But I did note few points that were part of my ‘learning curve’ lessons. I guess I worked too flat for the curve to happen. It will eventually happen. Somehow I didn’t persist. Rather I didn’t need this notebook, maybe?! The reason I think so is because, those notes were never looked into after. But the notebook was really needed you know?! That’s because I joined a class soon after.
Is there any classroom learning that can go on without notes? So yes, this class also called for a systematic note-taking as a proof of my sincerity and attention (deficit). This human’s heart was inflated by the contentment of this human’s mind and its resourceful abilities. How smart is my brain to have quickly figure out that this learning curve did not demand any amount of note-taking! So the TPU (top processing unit) decided to assign these empty pages of memory to a new algorithm (class of learning) that began joyfully. Ok, turning off my engineer brain until further need. Saves up a lot of energy, you know!
Back to the new class. First session was over. After my first class, I excitedly flutter the empty pages of just not too new notebook, and my teacher’s painted eyes stared from between the spectacles that skied down his nose, and the furry brows. For a moment, the 90s Onida TV ad demon brows put me on a freeze mode. The teacher wanted me to do some ‘memory job’ and not scribble away every word. “BHOOK!!!!!!!!!” sighed the notebook as I closed it. Sigh!
Now what’s with this notebook and giving up? Everytime I tried to use it . . . Ok, both the times I tried, I hardly wrote 20 letters. But today is going to be different.
I want to start a journal. A health journal. One on my fitness and all of the communication that I have with my body. I believe that human body is the most complicated scientific system in this world. Smart, efficient, adaptable, unique, and most of all, self-healing! How much of it do we respect and reciprocate? None of man-made systems have surpassed, replicated, mimicked or even come close to this wonder. It keeps communicating so well, and so often in a day. I don’t mean to be pessimistic about mankind’s capabilities or achievements. But I like to be practical about the fact that we are getting towards isolating the organs and mimicking their functioning when it is a system and that is what inspires us more.
So, I have decided to log about this incessant and eternal verbal and non-verbal communication that I have with my body. So this notebook is going to be a personal health journal. Not silent and empty anymore. And I hope it makes sense now, as to why I claimed this notebook to have seen a lot before. Before a notebook sees the words of a writer, the empty pages go in hiding, waiting to be touched and taught. And all this while, it watches out for the writer’s unstoppable thoughts. There is a lot of noise that dissolves in between the cover of a notebook and its spine. Until a writer walks past the writer’s block, the empty pages see through a lot of cacophony in the writer’s head. It is like the uterus of a carrying mother.
Well, this is the first time I have crossed the 20 letter mark on the pages of this notebook. More hope. More thoughts. More words . . . More . . . Less is more . . .