Window of Hope

I was having the most perfect day when I spotted this miniature frame hung on a mundane brick wall in Notting Hill. My partner and I had just perused the area’s iconic market and were in the midst of deciding what to do next, and as I took a moment to appreciate the street’s colourful houses laid out beside each other in the distance, I noticed this frame. For a split second, I had no idea what I was looking at, considering my poor eyesight, but the moment they resumed focus, I was immediately transported into a state of pure childlike admiration. Living in a crowded yet lonely city like London makes it easy to lose touch with the smallest things that can bring you joy, and you forget to connect with the child that still exists and sees the world in all of its vibrant colours that we’ve dimmed once adulthood took over. Seeing this tiny simple portrait hung on some random brick wall, in such an elaborate gold frame, had me at a standstill moment of pure joy and excitement. Looking back now, I can't help but think about what small but profound hidden gems like this one that have passed me by. Why did noticing this small painting of a landscape painted in only 3 shades of green, with a blue sky over a light-brown hill suddenly connect me to a state of mind I forgot I possess?

I was already having such a great day before I saw this frame. It was filled with excitement from the moment the sun rose until it bid the city goodnight, but I’d be lying if I said that seeing this portrait didn’t intensify the day’s aura. One of the things I appreciate most about my partner is his undeniable determination for ensuring his energy meets mine when I get excited about something. In all honesty, it was his idea to write up a post on this picture. His enthusiasm for its symbolism and how I can convey it through words was all the inspiration I needed to make the idea come to life, and looking back on that day there was no better person to be with in that moment than him. It's not only these little things that can bring out the forgotten child within us, but also the people we surround ourselves with. From my experience, these 6 years of living in the UK have taught me so much, and one of them is that the smaller your circle is the better.

I used to be so focused on maintaining a large friend group even when I knew it was not healthy for me, and the need to fit in and entertain a crowd that I felt was not right for me became the start of the decline in life’s vibrancy. Over time I began to notice how the feelings towards my situation and inability to conform to the expectation of others proved to be a battle I could only win if I let go of the insecurities holding me back from being okay with being alone. I can say now that I have no regrets of the life I lived while I was still figuring out who I am and what I stand for, people come and go like the wind and it is impossible to try and fight it in the opposite direction - you’ll end up getting blown away to a place farther than the vicinity of your control. Stumbling upon this window of hope, as I like to call it, reminded me of all the moments where I felt like the brick wall rather than the portrait itself, a vast area of space with a built-in structure that allows no room for movement, only immovable construction. Some may consider what I’m saying as unfair and unappreciative of those who I called friends once upon a time, but now that I have people who care and love me so deeply for who I am and not what I was trying to be, it feels safe to resonate with the colours of my true self rather than forcing structure that was not built for me to fit into.

This window of hope represents, to me, a small-scale but greatly significant impact you can have on your life and others regardless of the colourless lifestyle society has condemned us to live. For the past 6 years I have disregarded the child in me for longer than I can shamefully admit, and silencing her led me to a crossroads that proved difficult to navigate through the cloud of smoke that has polluted my perspective on life and made me immune to the senses I possess. Feeling lost in London doesn’t help when you’re trying to find yourself and break free from the city’s gloominess - literally and metaphorically. This little portrait I found in Notting Hill has single-handedly shifted the presence of my inner child from forgotten to outwardly present in my daily life, and there is not a day that has gone by since that I have not stopped to appreciate and give thanks to the smallest moments and sceneries that remind me of what it was like to view the world from the wide eyes of a child.

I hope that if you take away anything from what I’ve written, it is that there is no shame in feeling like you don’t fit in. We spend so much time worrying about the time that is passing us by that we forget to stop and appreciate where we are in the moment, and we get preoccupied by trying to become someone we are not. There is no need to cement yourself to people and places that strip the colour from your views and make it seem like there is no room to explore life with youthful joy in the midst of navigating adulthood. No matter the city you reside in or the circumstances you are facing, remember to be kind to yourself and all the versions of you that came before, you’ll be surprised by just how impactful the smallest moments can be - windows of hope are in every corner of your day when you start believing in their presence.