Category: Love

  • The pain of being empty

    The pain of being empty

    When we’re overcome with the pain of betrayal, or loss, our focus is often on what we no longer have, rather than the gaping hole that it left in our soul.

    We try to reconcile the events or the mysteries that led up to that moment when what we cherished was suddenly taken.

    Sometimes taken by fate, but at other times taken by force.

    We feel violated when we’re left vacant. When the space we once reserved for one we cherished was abandoned without reason, or for all the wrong reasons.

    When the reasons are easily overcome, if only they’d be willing to overcome it with us.

    When we see in them what they refuse to see in themselves.

    Or when they give up hope for what they need from fear of losing it, again. So they protect themselves from us, not because of who we are, but because of how they were betrayed before us.

    That’s when we need to sit quietly with that gaping hole and find in it the peace that absence promises. It’s a peace found in the absence of expectation, or in the presence of calm.

    But calm is elusive when we’re fighting to get back what is not ours to claim. That’s when pain sets in. That’s when the gaping hole becomes a suffocating mess, rather than a passing anguish.

    Be still, beloved. Be composed. Be at peace knowing that the best of you will never be good enough for those who are not good enough for themselves.

    Their demons are your pain only because you see the beauty that they never tasted.

    Don’t give up that beauty because of their bitter tongue. Their bitterness is theirs to savour, and yours to abandon. Breathe…

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Trading your future for your past

    Trading your future for your past

    How much of life is wasted trying to reconcile the bad experiences of the past?

    For every moment that we spend dwelling on an injustice or oppression against us in the past, we impose an injustice and oppression on ourselves and others in the present moment.

    The present moment is what takes care of the future. That’s why we have much hopelessness and little inspiration to create a beautiful life for ourselves.

    When beauty appears, we are more inclined to reminisce about how it was lost or destroyed in the past, so we focus on protecting ourselves from such pain in the future, by discarding the beauty of the present moment.

    When the present moment is lost to the bad experiences of the past, we effectively trade our future for the pain of the past.

    That’s how life slips by while we watch from the sidelines waiting for justice.

    Waiting for fairness.

    Waiting to be appreciated.

    Waiting to be seen.

    Waiting for happiness.

    Waiting…stop waiting beloved. The same way you were able to create beauty amidst the horror, you are capable of creating beauty from the ashes of the life you once invested in.

    You were the source of that beauty, not them.

    Breathe, beloved. Breathe…exhale the toxins of who they were, and inhale the hope of the beauty that you are still capable of creating.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • To tell your story

    To tell your story

    Sometimes, we grow obsessed with finding a receptive heart to appreciate the story of who we are.

    It’s a story that we cherish so dearly that just the thought of placing it in careless hands is frightening.

    It becomes a weight that we carry within us, keeping us anchored to moments long gone, but moments that we dare not forget.

    Such moments grow to define us well beyond its occurrence, holding us back from creating new moments of joy.

    That’s what we lose sight of most. Holding onto the weight of the past prevents us from rising up once more.

    When we tell our story, even if whispering it to the wind, we give our thoughts and emotions a form and a space that allows us to see it beyond the fear and the shame that shrouded it within us.

    We allow ourselves to finally see ourselves beyond the wounds that we thought would forever define our place in this world, because finally, we allow ourselves to see the old version of who we were, through the eyes of the current version of who we are.

    But we must be sure to be looking at ourselves through our own eyes. The moment we find ourselves judging that older version of who we were, or even who we are now, we’re not looking at ourselves through our own eyes. We’re looking at ourselves through the eyes of those whose validation we’ve been chasing for so long.

    Breathe beloved, and look at yourself with kindness and understanding, not with the harshness or intolerance that defined the bitterness of others.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock


  • Rocks don’t bleed

    Rocks don’t bleed

    Sometimes your tears are a mourning of what was, and at other times it’s a yearning for what could have been.

    More than this, it’s a path to the gentleness of your soul that is oppressed by the trials of life.

    When your heart stops yearning for what was, or what you wish could be different, your tears begin to forge a new path. A path towards the hope that you struggle to subdue.

    Just like rocks do not bleed, a hardened heart cannot cry. Beloved, take joy from the gentleness that you still possess despite the horrors of your past.

    Any bitterness that we court denies us the joy that we deserve, and any joy that we court denies them the bitterness that they hoped to share.

    Their bitterness is their heritage of a trial that is not yours to bear.

    Breathe, beloved. Breathe. And know that your tears, if shed for them, holds no value for a hardened heart.

    If tears must flow, let it flow to forge new paths of joy to replace the failed hopes of the past. But celebrate your tears as testament to the beauty of your soul, and not as regrets for having invested in a heart that was closed to joy.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Contortions of reality

    Contortions of reality

    It is my belief in the good that is possible that has been the cause of my greatest regrets when I realised that I was alone in seeing the world that way.

    It’s that same belief that has driven me towards offering myself into spaces for which I was inadequate, or social circles for which I was lacking.

    My inability to recognise the signs of insincerity because I was convinced that it was simply fear, has resulted in some of the greatest lessons I’ve learnt about my place in this world.

    It’s the same belief in the wonderment of life that has shredded the romantic fool in me when the reality beyond my perception revealed the truth of my misplaced fascination.

    There are days when life feels more enchanting than a fable of love that has endured generations of cynicism. And then there are days when it feels like nothing more than a fib.

    My inclination towards flowery language has heaped much ridicule on me through the years, given the uneducated fool that I am. But when you struggle to articulate your experience of this contorted life, knowingly persisting in doing that which earns ridicule after being celebrated, you take an inevitable step towards finally seeing this world for what it is.

    Assuming that such clarity of vision is even possible is further testament to the naivety that always gets the better of my reason, and overwhelms my heart with possibility, even when staring impossibility in the face.

    It’s a recipe for much heartache and even more pain. But the sliver of hope that holds the promise of the remote probability that I may just be right about my perception of what is possible leaves me incapable of living any other way.

    Such is the nature of the fool in me. The one who loves deeply, expects little, and fails a lot. But it was my naivety towards such failure that has been the most incredible teacher of my life.

  • Tainting a beautiful soul

    Tainting a beautiful soul

    Betrayal of trust always cuts deeper than any other wound that we endure in life.

    A trust of the heart is an offering of the most sacred parts of who we are to those whom we believe will add to its beauty, and its peace.

    When it is held sacred by the ones with whom we share it, it explodes into fountains of light, beautifying everything that it touches…including the hurts of the past.

    When it is treated flippantly, it turns into caves of darkness, offering us protection from the shame of having had our sanctity violated by one so dear.

    From deep within that cave, any light that enters threatens to disembowel what little dignity we have left.

    Sometimes we flirt with that light, believing that it’s still possible to have the remnants of light in our soul join in the splendour of the beauty that we know is possible.

    For a while, we grow bold, believing that the sanctity of us may yet be cherished by another. Until we’re reminded that it is that same trust that created the space for the darkness of another to snuff out our light.

    So we withdraw. Any promises made to that point fade from view, and our trust becomes seasonal. Turning us into the darkness that seeks to destroy someone else’s light before they get a chance to destroy our own. Again.

    It’s an unintended vengeance against other than the brute that ravaged our soul. But it carries with it the promise of safety, and the promise of once more being whole.

    Thus, an unfulfilled vengeance, shreds a beautiful soul.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • The broken cup

    The broken cup

    Too often, our focus is on how empty is our own cup.

    Sometimes it takes a while before we realise that we’re not taking care of ourselves as we lose ourselves in our concern for others.

    So we begin to focus on filling our cup so that the emotional fatigue can finally be overcome.

    Sadly, we don’t stop to consider if we’re capable of filling our cup because we don’t realise that it may be broken.

    Wounds from the past leave cracks and breaks in spaces that we hope others will mend, not realising that only we hold the key towards mending those cracks.

    Sometimes, we don’t realise that someone we love may have a broken cup, and we exhaust ourselves in trying to fill their cup, believing ourselves to be inadequate in our efforts to make them feel loved enough to want to love us in return.

    That’s why it’s important to heal before you try to find a home for your heart.

    And equally important is the realisation that sometimes it’s not your inadequacy that makes it difficult for them to love you back, but rather their belief in not being worthy of your love that prevents them from embracing you.

    Breathe, beloved…slow, rhythmic, deep breaths that fill those spaces left by the calloused hands that handled the most fragile parts of you.

    Breathe. Be whole. And then return to love.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • The struggle of faith

    The struggle of faith

    It is our belief in the value of something that drives us towards fighting to protect it.

    We cherish that which we appreciate, and we appreciate that which we value.

    Call it conviction in the value of the outcome, or belief in the beauty of its truth. Whatever it is, it is that unwavering faith in what we cherish as a truth that spawns the trials that we face when protecting or defending that truth.

    As is often said, when you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything. What isn’t said often enough is that when you stand for something, you’ll be plagued by everything that is threatened by what you stand for.

    Such is the burden of faith.

    Whether it is faith in the divine, or faith in the beauty of creation, faith compels us to protect and nurture that which we hold dear.

    For those who lack such faith, destroying or abusing what we cherish goes unnoticed, leaving us to contend with the destruction they leave in the path of their obliviousness.

    We contend with their destruction because of our faith in the value of what they threaten to destroy.

    Thus, holding on to that faith becomes the trial itself, when letting go holds the promise of ease from those struggles.

    But ease itself holds no value if it leaves a gaping hole where we once had fulfilment or joy.

    That’s why we hold on to faith. Not because we are afraid of letting go, but because we are afraid of feeling empty, or unfulfilled, after having felt, even for a brief moment, complete.