Dear reader,
The way I see it, there are 4 parts to depression.
The season of Things Going Wrong
The phase of Trying to Fix it All (or what my sister and I call, Black Swanning)
Giving Up & Grieving
Letting There Be Nothing
Things Starting To Go Right
I first experienced Point 4 at the age of 10, and spent years just drifting by in a grey sea. We call that brain fog now, but back then there were no popular words to describe that, let alone treat depression in children. Thankfully I was out of it about 4 years later - and I could look back with new eyes.
The fear of that Point never left though, and my Black Swanning got worse - just so I could avoid moving forward into that dark place.
I’m at Point 4 now. This is the point when my art starts to shine - my world is nonverbal (save for the occasional poem, screenplay bits and now this newsletter).
It is a barren land: very much like the great salt flats of Kutch. All the water has receded, there is nothing but horizon. The ground cracks beneath your feet.
Whenever I’m here I think of Gandhi (of all people). How he traveled just to be here, just to hold a fistful of salt in his hand, how our people’s freedom is as miniscule and grand as this: seasoning for the world. blood for us.
When I’m here, at Point 4, I’m surrounded by this freedom. It is the ground I walk on. Yet with every move I make, I break it further and further. So all there is to do, is to stand still. Take in the view. Wait until your weight pulls you down into the earth.


I sink and sink and sink into the underground, and then I remember that this is where all the artists live. Things are dark, but vibrant. There is graffiti on the walls. Full of possibility. It is here in this strange cellar-world of Point 4, that I get to be myself, my full self, and let her shine in the muck. It’s down here where all the action is, just like in any other desert. Doing soul work is a lot about getting deep in these trenches.
People have this beautiful, angelic, whitewashed idea of healing: pruning up in a rose petaled bathtub and drinking champagne, doing face masks and putting on scented candles. My room still smells like cinnamon, and my skin is doing fine - but the soulwork is barely a part of those processes. It might not be the most consistent, but there is still a rhythm to it - of discipline, of rigour, of needing to talk without words.
It’s a 5AM alarm. I may get up at 5, and I may not. I do some stretches, make myself breakfast, and button up my varsity jacket in preparation to paint. AirPods in my ears, watch on my wrist. Clock the time when I begin. Then argue with my canvas - make my points in colour, write speeches with old paintbrushes. This continues until my stomach starts to speak. Lunch is another quiet affair, and then it’s back to the Point 4 Underground. Around 6, I stop having things to say: and work is done for the day.
The key is to remain detached from the outcome: no shame in missing a target, no puffed up chest when you tick them all off the list. Just live deeply in each moment, and once each thing is done, remember all they are is moments.
The poetry to find in this is that I am not ten anymore, not trapped in middle school, and grasping for help about something I don’t even know I’m experiencing. I am twenty four and I have tools to work through it.
Sure, meditation is one. But my favourite tool of choice at the moment is alt/rock music (supported by other genres too - no exclusivity here).
Some picks at the moment:
Conceited by Lola Young (Apple Music | Spotify)
Habanera - Georges Bizet (Apple Music | Spotify)
Watch Me - Biig Piig (Apple Music | Spotify)
BeReal - SIDD (Apple Music | Spotify)
Mirage - Glass Beams (Apple Music | Spotify)
PINCH ME - young friend (Apple Music | Spotify)
Dancing is Healing - Rudimental, Charlotte Plank & Vibe Chemistry
(Apple Music | Spotify)FTG - Doja Cat (Apple Music | Spotify)
Cry - Headie One (Apple Music | Spotify)
Crazy Love - Van Morrison (Apple Music | Spotify)
I tend not to listen to the words, but just the sound of the voice - how it blends with the instrumentals, how they clash and collide. I am from the coastline, so the primary sound I move toward is percussion. I hope you can listen to it in that way too, and see if you find something different within each song.
If you’re listening to anything interesting, please send it my way. I’d love to hear it the way you do.
Love & courage,
Kaav
listening to sitar metal while reading this.
sending silent company <3