Hi Friends, 

This is your weekly edition of The Friday Five Hundred, which is a slice of my life as a Writer in five hundred words or less. 

Ever wish you were ten years younger? No? Neither have I. I love being the age that I am and consider myself blessed to have lived this long.

That’s why a wave of cringe flowed through me when this question popped into my mind on a random day. How did I get there? I had plans for the week in terms of my writing all carefully crafted in a handmade calendar in my silvery sparkly notebook. It was going to be great. 

On a sugar crash Monday after Halloween weekend, it was brought to my attention that my kids had Tuesday and Thursday off from school. Somehow I had missed that memo even though it made sense why they would be off. 

On I went with high expectations of myself to get it all done with this change. I noticed myself getting very tired and I wondered why. When it finally came time for my daily creative practice, I approached it with a leftover zeal rather than from a place of wholeness. I found that even my usual eight hours of sleep didn’t sustain me. 

Still, I trudged on and after eight burned toasts, a hot chai spill on my legs while driving, and a toddler with a bloody nose, I wanted a break. 

Sitting in my backyard under the shade of a persimmon tree, I tried to disconnect and bring myself to the present. 

“I wish this persimmon tree was a mango tree…”

“I wish I was ten years younger…” 

What? Who is speaking in there? I asked myself why I thought this way? 

“Well, I like mangoes more than persimmons…”

No…why do you wish to be ten years younger?

“So, I could have more energy than I have now. Fewer responsibilities than I have now. If I had started writing then, I’d surely be a highly acclaimed Writer by now. I’d have all the time in the world to write!” 

There’s an Islamic saying that states, “If only opens the doors for the devil.” It was taken literally by a ten year younger me. Now, I understand how it means opening the door for stroking my ego and exponentially wasting my energies on a not-so delightful rabbit hole. I do like falling down rabbit holes. 

Thoughts kept spiraling until my three-year-old Haya came outside and grabbed a persimmon off the floor. She asked if we could eat it and grabbed me by my hand directing me to my imaginary throne in the kitchen. 

Ten years ago, I was not the person I am today. This persimmon didn’t exist and neither did my kids; time-consuming yet beautiful responsibilities. I was busy living the story that I get to write about now and I wouldn’t have had the capacity to receive the calling of writing that story. I’m here now and“if only” is merely a form of clutter and resistance. 

I’d love to know if you ever thought you could conquer the world if you were your younger self? What is your “If only…”? What do your regrets tell you about how you want to live life starting today? 

Ten years ago, I also didn’t have you. Thank you for being here and being a witness to my process. I'm truly grateful for your presence. Until next Friday! 

Love, 

Sana Fayyaz