Tag: anincompletelovestory

  • 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.



  • Have a little faith

    Have a little faith

    Believing is not the same as faith. At least not in the way that I experience it.

    When I believe in something, it’s because I’ve attached evidence from previous experiences that convince me that what I believe to be true is probably true.

    While there is an element of faith to that, its not really faith. It’s more a belief based on deduction.

    Faith comes in when the evidence may conflict with the belief, but because everything we know to be true about it makes it impossible to believe anything else, it’s then that we develop the faith in believing that somehow, some way, the outcome is still possible.

    This is especially true when everything tells you that it’s impossible.

    Of course faith of a divine nature is different. But the above approach to faith is what determines how much we invest in others, or in what we believe is possible with them.

    Photo trivia : This is a table cloth that was woven by female prisoners in India. An endearing design with dark undertones.

  • Lost moments

    Lost moments

    The pendulum of time brushes ever so lightly against the arc of eternity, and in that very finite moment of its contact, an entire lifetime is lived. Some are deluded into believing that the pendulum will swing back, realising too late that once the moment is passed, it is lost to eternity.

    For some reason, this thought always chokes me up… :'(

    Why do people take life for granted and wait for ideal moments before allowing themselves to embrace life more fully and sincerely?

    Moments pass so quickly.

    The current trends are to catch moments through meditation, long after the moment is lost.

    Or to reminisce about why it could have been different if only something else was in place at the time.

    The most gut wrenching heartache is caused from moments that held the promise of beauty or peace, but were lost to bad timing, or fear.

    I think the secret to living joyfully lies in trusting those who echo the sentiments in your heart.

    But such a trust is daunting when it was abused by another, and thus courage becomes a prerequisite for trust.

    Discovering the secret of courage then becomes the next pursuit of the heart.

    Breathe, beloved…slow deep breaths. And courage will emerge from the depths where it lays dormant after having been subdued by calloused hands.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Prisms of beauty

    Prisms of beauty

    If you keep chasing rainbows, you won’t find the time to notice that you’re the prism creating the beauty that you so desperately court.

    Breathe beloved, and pause for long enough to appreciate the beauty of you, despite the ugly of them.

    (From the sequel to An Incomplete Love Story that may never be written)

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Chasing ghosts

    Chasing ghosts

    Of the multiple lifetimes that I’ve endured, reality flirts between the beauty that I saw, and the ugly that I experienced. Sanity was relegated to an after thought when what I saw was a vision uniquely experienced by me. Too real to dismiss, but too fantastical to be believed.

    It’s the belief that I need to share it with others that taints the experience. But I often wonder if it’s really a belief, or is it a dictate of nature that I will remain incomplete if my experience remains my own. Is the purpose of life not to share our wonders with others?

    The pervasiveness of ugly has revealed the ugly side of ugly to me in moments when I was distracted by the beauty of a being. My fixation on beauty was never enough to turn their gaze away from the ugly that gripped their lives. Unfulfilled vengeance shreds a soul with the promise of making it whole.

    Fighting the shredding has left me chasing their ghosts of beauty while they invested in the ugly of being. But my ghosts, despite being beyond reach for an embrace, are mine to behold, and mine to court. Offering shards of light into their darkness, teasing them into the light for a few brief, magical moments, before they recede again, the fear of the light turning to darkness echoing the horror of hopes so often destroyed by the ugly of their past.

    This tug of war. This wretch between beauty and pain. If not for the beauty of the ghosts, sublimely serene and mesmerisingly aching with the promise of peace, succumbing to their ugly would have overtaken my tender soul. But tenderness is not formed through frailty. It is the deepest gashes that revealed the tenderness within, without which the hardened crust of my contact with the world would have had me convinced that my ghosts were mere apparitions, and their ugly was the only truth.

    The ghosts of the betrayers have unwittingly gifted me with the vision that they spurned. A vision of wondrous enchantment, seeing the tenderness of their soul, while they focus on the crust. Hope feels like a threat when the lifetimes that nag at my back remind me of the many occasions on which the ghosts were defeated, and the crust grew thicker over the beauty that I courted.

    Until now. Until my latest skirmishes with their darkness revealed an intensity of light so beautifully complete, that my strongest resolve to abandon it proves futile. A new tug of war has been birthed. This time, between my resolve to block out the ghosts and the beauty that they keep revealing in the silent, taunted moments when the world is asleep, and my unfailing desire to surrender to the ghost before I give up my own.

    The end is not near enough, and peace too far away.

  • My silent scream

    My silent scream

    When rage is all you have left in you, know that you’ve surrendered yourself to the betrayal of the world.

    When rage becomes a silent scream or a deliberate protest, despite your best intentions, you are still defined by that betrayal.

    When rage colours your view of the world, you see demons in angels, and persecution in love, because they both, the angels and the love, carry with them the threat of a broken trust.

    Worse still, when rage defines your response to life, you not only reject anything that demands trust, but you strike preemptively at the hint of what you once courted, hurting the ones invested in your peace.

    When we view the world through angry eyes, innocence is tainted, sincerity appears as manipulation, and affection feels like a self-serving act of the one offering it.

    Discarding the good doesn’t only deny you that good, it also creates space for the festering wounds of the past to contaminate even more beauty and innocence that once filled those spaces.

    Breathe, beloved…

    Just breathe…

    Don’t let the betrayers of your past cause you to betray your future.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Thus, is love lost

    Thus, is love lost

    In affection, we focus on our beauty

    In rejection, we focus on our deficiencies

    Perhaps that’s why the world is so harsh

    Too many are waiting for their deficiencies to be accepted before they share their beauty

    Or need their grievances with one to be compensated before they accept the beauty of another.

    Each time we wait for the past to be redressed before

    we invest in the future

    We are discarding the future in favour of the very past we wish we could leave behind

    Thus is the gift of love discarded

    And bitterness courted.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock