Bubbles and Sticky Fingers

This was the last project of the Competent Communicator journey, the Project 10. But to be truthful, I enjoyed writing, practicing and delivering this the most. So much so that, even when I read it today, I can almost hear the voice I had on the stage, taste what it felt like, see myself delivering it. And the buzz of this experience stayed with me for days to follow. Quite unusual no? But I think when you put all of yourself into something, this is what it feels like.

So here's the draft of one of my most cherished speeches minus the drama that I added while I delivered it. But I'm sure you're smart enough to read it with all the drama your life has to offer.

It was titled as 'The Buzz'

"So a while ago, I tried an experiment. I would say a yes to all the things that I have kept delaying all this while. Anything that I should do, I forced myself to say a yes to. Did I want to learn swimming? No, but yes. Did I want to finally complete my CC? No, but yes. Did I want to leave a safe job for a passionate career? No, no, no but yes, yes, yes.

And a crazy thing happened: Not only did I overcome my fear to accomplish these things, but also I had less monsters to be scared of. My fear of venturing into sports, my anxiety of taking a leap of faith, poof, gone. It’s amazing, the power of one word. “Yes” changed my life. “Yes” changed me. But there was one particular yes that affected my life in the most profound way, and it started with a question from my niece.

I have these two amazing nieces. Hazel and Pragun. Pragun is a toddler who resembles the version of Little Red Riding Hood that I had in my head when I was 5. The tiny girl who’ll keep moving around the house wearing that flurry frock, carrying basket full of flowers, spreading happiness and sprinkling magic wherever she goes.

My little red riding hood asked me to leave my cell phone and play with her one evening when I was home for a short vacation. And I said a, “Yes”. I made a vow that from now on, every single time either Hazel or Pragun ask me to play, no matter what I’m doing or where I’m going, I would say a yes. Every single time. Almost. I’m not perfect at it, but I try hard to practice it. And it has had a magical effect on me, on the time I spent home. But it also has had a stunning side effect and it wasn’t until when I understood that saying yes to playing with my little red riding hood was likely to save my career.

Now, I started working a java developer. Being bit by the corporate bug, I was happy. Spending some time there, I took a career detour to work as a Learning and Development professional. The dream job for me.

I’m a behavioral trainer. I talk. I imagine. I get paid to speak. My dream job. I create. I write. I get involved in meaningful conversations. Conversations about people, patterns, behaviors. Creativity, thinking, imagination.

Now, I don’t tell all this to impress you. And also, I don’t go to the classrooms and get to blabber anything. So when you hear me when I say it’s my dream job, it’s not about dreaming. It’s a job. All work, all reality, all blood, all sweat, no tears. I work a lot, very hard, and I love it.

When I’m hard at work, when I’m deep in it, there is no other feeling. For me, my work is at all times building nation out of a thin air. It is painting the canvas. It is hitting every high note. It is running a marathon. And it is all of those things at the same time. I love working. It is creative and mechanical and exhausting and exhilarating and hilarious and disturbing and clinical and cruel and judicious, and what makes it all so good is the buzz. There is some kind of shift inside me when the work gets good. The buzz begins in my brain, and it grows and that buzz sounds like the open road that I could drive on forever. And when I try to explain this buzz, people assume that my buzz is about “talking” and that this talking brings me joy. Don’t get me wrong, it does. But the buzz is more than just the joy of talking. It’s about working, making, building, creating and collaborating. And it’s in all of this that I discovered this buzz, this hum, this rush. This buzz is more than just talking. This buzz is action and activity. This buzz is a drug. This buzz is music. The buzz is light and air. This buzz is God’s whisper right in my ear. And when you have a buzz like that, you can’t help but be grateful and strive for more. That feeling, you can’t help but strive for more at any cost. More and more. And more. That’s called the buzz.

But here’s the thing: the more sessions I take, the more work there is to do, the more barriers that are broken, the more milestones are achieved, the more expectations there are. The more I work to achieve, the more I need to work. And what did I say about work? I love working, right? The nation I’m building, the marathon I’m running, the canvas, the high note, the buzz, the buzz, the buzz. I like that buzz. I love that buzz. I am that buzz. Am I nothing but that buzz?

And then the buzz stopped. Overworked, overused, overdone, burned out. The buzz stopped.

I remember, it was the month of November. I was home for a vacation. Amongst my people and my little red riding hood. But I was sad.

Because the buzz of the engine died. I stopped loving my work. I couldn’t restart the engine. The buzz wouldn’t just come back. My buzz was broken. I was doing the same things I always did, the same sessions, the same conversations, no regrets, never surrender whatever. But there was no buzz. Inside me was silence. All the colours were the same, but I no longer was having any fun. And it was my life. It was all I did. I was the buzz, and the buzz was me. So what do you do when the thing you do, the work you love starts to taste like dust?

Dear Toastmasters and guests, if you love what you do, being a coder, being a project manager, being a mother, being a painter, being a Toastmaster, or maybe even if you love another person and that gives you the buzz, if you know the buzz, if you know what the buzz feels like, when the buzz stops, who are you? What are you? What am I? If the song of my heart ceases to play, can I survive in the silence? 

And then my little red riding hood asks me a question she says, “Amna Didi, wanna play?”

Just as I’m about to say a no, I remember my vow. My vow of playing with her every single time she asks me so. While I’m mourning my buzz, I say, “Yes!”

There is nothing special about it. We play, and we are joined by her elder sister, Hazel, and there’s a lot of laughing, I read them a book in a dramatic accent. Everybody turns into a Hogwart’s wizard. Nothing out of ordinary.

And yet, it is extraordinary, because in my pain and panic, in the numbness of my buzz-lessness, I have nothing to do but pay attention. I focus. I am still. The nation I’m building, the marathon I’m running. The canvas, the high note does not exist. All that exists are sticky figures, gooey kisses, tiny voices, my little red riding hood.

It’s all peace and simplicity.

Play is the opposite of work. But I am happy playing. Something in me loosens. A door in my brain swings open, and a rush of energy comes. And it’s not instantaneous, but it happens, it does happen.  I feel it. A buzz creeps back. Not at full volume, barely there, it’s quiet, and I have to stay very still to hear it, but it is there. Not the buzz, but a buzz.

I suddenly feel like I’ve unlocked a magical door. It’s love. That’s all it is. No magic. No secret. It’s just love and family. It’s just something I forgot. The buzz, the work buzz, that’s just a replacement. The buzz is not power and the buzz is not work specific. The buzz is joy-specific. The real buzz is love-specific. The buzz is the electricity that comes from being excited by life. The real buzz is confidence and peace. The real buzz ignores the milestones achieved and the expectation and the pressure. The real buzz is singular and original.

It’s just love. We could all use a little more love, a lot more love. Any time my little red riding hood asks me to play, I will say yes. I will run around the yard, play with the bubbles, read Harry Potter again and again and again. Without itching for my cell phone.

The two tiny humans, my people back home show me how to live and receive the buzz of the universe that fills me up. I play and I play until I begin to wonder why do we ever stop playing in the first place.

You can do it too.

Find the fuel that feeds your buzz. The place where life feels more good than not good. It’s not about playing with kids, it’s about joy. It’s about playing in general. Give yourself that playful time. The time that makes you feel good.

I’m not perfect at it. In fact, I fail as often as I succeed.

But what I’ve learnt is I may like that buzz but I no longer love that buzz. I don’t need that buzz. I am not that buzz and the buzz is not me. Not anymore. I am bubbles and sticky fingers and dinners with my family. I am that buzz and I am so grateful.

So, let me be the little red riding hood in your life and ask, 'Wanna play?' "