WHAT ORIGAMI TAUGHT ME

 With all the bad that has happened in the last year, there have also been some good things. In an age where all my hopes and dreams — along with other passions — are struggling to sustain themselves, my 20s gave birth to something fresh, new, and honestly adorable: a way to cope with my crippling anxiety and stress — Origami.

For those who don’t know what origami is, you basically fold paper into making things like animals, flowers, and anything else you want. I picked it up when I turned 20, and even a year later, I’ve stuck with it.

What I find amazing about paper is that you can fold it and turn it into anything — a whale, a butterfly, a jumping frog, even something as complex as a dragon. But if you fold it too many times — more than seven — it hits a limit. It gives up.

In life, I’ve found myself in similar situations — sometimes folded so many times that I’ve felt like I’ve hit my own breaking point. But at the same time, there have been folds that made beautiful things in my life.

For example, my decision to pursue a postgrad course was a fold I made at the very last second. But that fold brought some of the best friendships I have today — even if those friendships come with their own chaos. When I made the right folds, I was able to walk away from certain habits and relationships that weren’t serving me. I was able to surround myself with better people. But there have also been times I folded myself carelessly and found myself at the bottom of never-ending misery — because of my bad choices, my trust in the wrong people, or just my own inability to see clearly.

To make a good and sharp crane, you have to make the right folds. That’s the only way it lives a long, beautiful life. If you fold it badly or without thought, it just turns into a mush of paper that starts to collapse in your hand.

Origami has taught me patience — something I was never good at. The most wonderful and painful thing about origami is that even if you start with a rectangular sheet, you have to tear it into a perfect square, or the folds won’t sit right.

Like, when I’m making a jumping frog, I have to sit quietly and pay extreme attention to the balance between both sides. That center fold has to be perfect, or nothing else will line up.

Patience hasn’t always been my best trait, but slowly, over the years, I’ve made it my own. And for that, I have to thank every childish man and one horrible tutor I’ve dealt with in the last 8+ years for unlocking that power in me.

And finally, origami taught me something else — the right things land when the right people see them.

There’s this professor in college who’s genuinely one of the best people I know. Every time I give her a little origami animal, her eyes light up. She takes it home and shows it to her toddler. There’s another professor who collects every one I give him — and always tells me, “Hey, I still have the ones you gave me before.”

But then there’s this one person who calls it trash. Who throws away the ones lying around. And honestly, that taught me something too.

It is so important to cater to the right people — to be around the right people — the ones who make you feel loved and appreciated. I’ve never completely felt that feeling, but at this point in my life, I think I’ve finally found myself around the best people I’ve had in the last 21 years.

Yes, I still carry this constant storm of rage and hate inside me. But when I do origami, things quiet down — they go away for a bit. Like it says, origami brings people closer to appreciating the smaller things in life.

It helps me cope with my anxious self, and reminds me that even something as simple as a piece of paper — when treated with care — can turn into something wonderful.