Tag: Life

  • Growth is inevitable

    Growth is inevitable

    This was an important realisation that has carried me through many difficult experiences in life.

    What’s even more important to realise is that when we choose a positive growth for ourselves, there is no guarantee that the people around us will choose the same.

    Don’t back down from being a better version of you because of it.

    All you can do is try to inspire them to be better as well. But the final choice will always be theirs to make.

    Trials are there to teach us lessons about what we previously took for granted.

    With it, comes a greater level of awareness.

    Awareness carries with it a responsibility to either contribute more, or to apply yourself in better ways. That’s how growth takes place.

    When you resist such growth, you grow in defensiveness. So you’re effectively exchanging positive growth for negative growth.

    Growth is therefore inevitable. You only get to decide in which direction it takes you.

  • Elusive peace…

    Elusive peace…

    Peace…that elusive mist that needs to enshroud everything.

    Its absence creates the need to change the circumstances of our lives, so that we leave no space for nothing, needing every space to be filled with something.

    Some look to fill those spaces with trinkets and tokens.

    Others look to fill it with purposeful endeavours.

    But central to both, lies the need to benefit someone in our efforts to avoid being no one.

    Without that someone, we remain unfulfilled and incomplete.

    Similar to the nothingness in the absence of peace.

    Because life must be lived, and living must leave a legacy.

    But a legacy ceases to be a legacy if it has no inheritors at the moment of our passing.

    This primal instinct to be something is what drives our efforts towards avoiding being nothing.

    The threat of which is the root to losing ourselves to the distraction of everything, when we lose hope of ever being something…to someone…but not just anyone.

    Thus, the test of gratitude enters, as we reject some in our pursuit of others, never knowing for certain the impact we have on the lives that we touch.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock


  • A brain dump

    A brain dump

    Some find solace as the years progress. Some find love. Some find an emptiness where space was once held in hope for a significant other. My contemplations of which applies to me hold no sway any longer.

    Writing this post creates a delusion of its own. Although it could be interpreted as gratitude or reflection instead. Its true purpose and intent will always be hidden by the need of the moment. The need is seldom true to the act. Or is that the other way around?

    A brain dump is supposed to offload that which is clutter and of little value to hold on to. It’s supposed to create space for peace and calm, while ridding me of the noise of busyness and inconsequence. It does neither tonight.

    Tonight it serves as a search for truth. A search for discerning between illusions, delusions, and reality. It’s a tiresome search. To know sincerity from pretence, value from utility, acceptance from tolerance, or love from contempt. The guarded are always the most painful to navigate, and the most expensive to maintain.

    In contemplating all of this, I find the fight slowly leaving my soul. This time, seeking to know the difference between wisdom and surrender threatens to disembowel a fragile peace that has accompanied my soul through the storms, until now. But its fragility grows meek and is left wanting in the face of fresh onslaughts.

    The battle for sanity, or for space grows tedious. That it is a battle at all is telling in itself. What should be a natural state of calm, accentuated on occasion by disruption, is reversed. The calm only visits in isolation, and isolation leaves a disruption in my soul. Peace finding no place in either, isolation or association.

    At times, it feels like life has been a perpetual midlife crisis. That constant search for purpose, or to reconnect with moments past. The questioning of direction, and the conundrum of what action would be most beneficial towards the fluid goals that suggest an abatement in the storm. Drop the mid from midlife and suddenly the scene is much more accurately described.

    Are lighthouses ever decommissioned – wilfully decommissioned to allow it a period of graceful rest before its ultimate fall? Or is it expected to serve until it finally succumbs to the erosion of the lifelong yelping of the waves at its feet? No one tries to calm the waves, or to cause the shore to recede. But those who notice share a passing politeness as a token gesture of appreciation for the guiding beacon that is offered.

    In many ways, I’ve often felt like a road sign. That critical point at which informed decisions are made by those who encounter it, but whose decisions always lead them away from it. Beyond the lighthouse, I think this is a metaphor that most accurately resonates with the life crisis that I’ve endured. But like lighthouses, road signs are also never willingly decommissioned, except when they become redundant. Otherwise, they’re left to their own devices for as long as they serve a purpose until eventually being replaced with a more purposeful one.

    There’s a haunting irony in awakening the soul to the reality that surrounds. While it raises attention to the ephemeral nature of life and love, prompting one to appreciate with intensity its beauty before it passes, it also awakens one to the cold faces of the oblivious. The empty hugs, and empty stares. The vacuous efforts at validation and the consumerist indulgences of privilege. Leaving no human contact behind. Only human consumption.

    Some exhaust themselves in wishing for times passed. Others deplete their resources in trying to capture the present moment. But many, like me, are in search of the fast-forward button to bring this charade to a final and quiet end.

    No more chasing.

    No more hoping.

    No more wanting.

    No more needing.

    The end of expectation and the arrival of certainty.

    It seems I have yet to earn the acquisition of such mercy. To know with certainty that you are seen. That you are heard. That you are loved. Not because of what they can get from you, but because of who you are beyond social standing, or relative placement in their lives. Expecting this from the oblivious is nothing more than self-harm. But trying to subdue such expectations is nothing more than an effort at being inhuman.

    Perhaps in that lies the ultimate conundrum. Seeking to connect with your humanness so that once you do, you are left with the desolate scape of solitude as you realise that there are no humans looking to connect with your humanness. It’s like flipping the big switch that turns on every fascination of a world harbouring untold beauty, but being rooted to the spot perfectly positioned to only see but not touch such beauty.

    The fight is slowly leaving my soul. And with each passing moment, the reality that it doesn’t matter, not now, never before, nor ever, is destroying every romantic notion I’ve ever embraced. The tree that falls silently in the forest disrupts no lives.

  • Destroying the one we love

    Destroying the one we love

    When we look at ourselves with harshness or pity, we find reason to protect ourselves and others from what we see.

    We convince ourselves that we are a burden or a curse to those who deserve better than what we have to offer.

    Or, we convince ourselves that we won’t be able to bear them leaving, so we prevent them from getting close.

    But in so doing, we prevent ourselves from seeing in us what they may love about us.

    That’s when we reject them while believing that we’re only protecting them.

    It’s this self-loathing, or even this need to protect ourselves from being hurt by avoiding attachment that we cause the greatest hurt.

    The most troubled souls that I’ve encountered have been ones who yearned for emotional attachment with significant others that were emotionally inaccessible.

    When we protect others from ourselves, or we protect ourselves from others getting too close, we deny them access to our emotional space that may complete them, and vice versa.

    It is our entrusting to another the fragile parts of our soul that makes us feel human, or appreciated, or significant when they honour that trust in return.

    We only feel like we matter when we are not only loved by those we love, but by being allowed to love them in a way that is uniquely our expression of love for them.

    Anything less feels incomplete at best, and a betrayal at worst. Thus, some of the best intentions have resulted in the deepest cuts.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • Don’t wait for justice

    Don’t wait for justice

    This world was created for respite, not for justice. Stop waiting for it to be OK before you move on with your life. It will never truly be OK.

    And when you eventually do move on, it’s because you stopped waiting for it to be OK, not because it suddenly was OK.

    Life is most often wasted waiting for retribution or reciprocation after we’ve been treated poorly or betrayed.

    When we wait for such justice to come to pass, it means that we’re more invested in our past than we are in our future.

    The irony is that we convince ourselves that we can’t have a future until we get justice for our past.

    The truth is, the future only becomes available to us when we have reconciled our contribution towards the outcomes of our lives.

    We’ll never be able to get into the heads of those who oppressed us or treated us badly.

    Waiting for them to step up and do the right thing is simply perpetuating the very reason why that relationship may have failed in the first place.

    The moment you reclaim your voice in your life, you reclaim your future, and you discard the shackles of the past.

    This doesn’t mean that by reclaiming your voice the issues from the past that continue to plague you will disappear.

    No. What it means is that your response to it will be defined by how much power you want it to have in your future, so that you’ll be able to choose your battles and your conditions for peace more wisely.

    Breathe, beloved…don’t forget to breathe. And between each breath, consider if your last breath was invested in your future, or your past…and choose more wisely the purpose of your next breath.

  • 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

  • Exhale

    Exhale

    Breathing becomes laboured when I’m not sure if I want to hold something in, or let it out. Expressing my disappointment at the events that appear to be in an incessant loop feels like an indulgence in futility. I’ve expressed such disappointment before, yet, here we are. Staring each other in the face again.

    The cloying saturation of feigned optimism on social media leaves me wretching from the fake sweetness of it all. I feel a need to speak without restraint, but even that appears futile. Some may assume that such expression will at least rid me of the madness that stirs within. If only it was that easy to contend with the madness.

    The inconsistent flow of inspiration abandoned and its abandonment then inspiring me to write, and then discard, and then to restart what once was to be writ creates the taunting tinny tone in my ears that time seems to intensify, rather than subdue. Time doesn’t always heal. Sometimes, it mocks and jibes and laughs as I wait expectantly for it to harbour some relief of the madness that it nurtured.

    Breathing is laborious when it holds no promises, but promises only lies. Deciphering the one leads to the other, and abandons me somewhere between the two, leaving me spent in the past, yearning in the present, and disillusioned about the future. I exhale, deeper than I inhale, feeling faint, but the toxins still firmly lodged within. They won’t leave anymore. The process of eviction and welcoming them back after each cycle seems to point to the pointlessness of them leaving at all.

    Exhale. It holds so much expectation. As if the release of what is spent will create spaces for what is new. But jadedness turns new into old, and old into oblivion before either sets foot in the soil of my soul. The ramblings of this madman persist in cryptic notes understood by few, appreciated by even less, and ignored by all.

    The blessing of anonymity is compounded for one who is anomalous. Between the two, fading into the distance blends naturally with the landscape of a life soon forgotten, and love that never was. But, we must exhale if we hope to create space for the end that awaits. Holding my breath only delays the inevitable, yet I continue to ignore the writing on the wall, instead focusing on the written notes discarded by the fears that lifetimes before me have spawned.

    Fear. The ultimate destroyer of hope, and the aborter of dreams. It creates more heartache than loss ever did.

  • Hopeless dreams

    Hopeless dreams

    A dream without hope taunts us more than it comforts us.

    It teases us with its distraction while we indulge in it, but reminds us that we believe we’re unworthy of it when we cast our gaze once more towards reality.

    When we believe in our dream, we’ll find the signs and the opportunities to map our path towards achieving that dream.

    But when we believe that our dream is unreachable or unrealistic, we’ll focus on everything that points towards a struggle, an obstacle, or an assumed impossibility in our desire to achieve it.

    That’s how we harm ourselves. We convince ourselves that the good that we yearn for is out of reach. Or worse, we convince ourselves that we are undeserving of it.

    If only we paused for long enough…took a deep breath…and realised that there are experiences we had in life that we never thought possible, but they came to pass anyway. Despite us not believing that they would.

    Those are the experiences that inspired us to dream. And those dreams that they inspired are our truths that we know is possible if only…

    Breathe beloved, and change that ‘if only’ into ‘when’, so that the dream that fills your heart in the quiet moments may find space in your life in your daylight hours.

    Just breathe…