The Ordinary Life .

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It was a rainy week here in Lahore. We found ourselves cooped up inside by the fire, listening to the pitter patter, reading books, drinking tea and watching movies. Always a good time to find yourself lost in thoughts, and wonder about the reality of it all.

There is such a thing a as a full, interesting and completely ordinary life. Having good food, growing meaningful and compassionate relationships, loving unconditionally, laughing wholeheartedly, crying deeply, failing unashamedly, succeeding unapologetically. Celebrating kindness rather than the popularity. Embracing chaos rather than the perfection. Living our very own truth …. whatever that maybe.

The modern culture, and specially the social media, brings with it an enormous pressure to live the extraordinary life. The perfect life.  To be the best at everything. It has us all nothing short of being obsessed by what is larger than life. Even impossible to achieve. The perfectly styled home. The perfectly styled meal. Yummy mommies and unrealistic body expectations.The perfect kids with their perfect routines. The perfectly curated feeds. The most likes. The most popular. The perfect beach holiday. The perfect marriage. The best job.

And we must have it all faster than the next person standing in line with us. The virtue of hard work and honesty is lost. The joy of a simple life is slowly being forgotten. Oh, to just BE in the moment and breathe. And accept. And let go.

We are constantly being fed the notion of desire and want by purposefully making us feel less or the lack of. We are told that we are not pretty enough, rich enough, popular enough, thin enough, worthy enough…. good enough.

But we ARE all those things. I am enough. You are enough. When we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, meaningful relationships, love, joy, and some tears too… isn’t that enough?

Images and stories of real life shouldn’t be hidden. Everyday chaos makes for beautiful photos. Stunning, imperfect, precious moments turned into keepsake memories. Aren’t the most ordinary of things, the most beautiful?

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