A gentle neglect

It is better to die of violence, swift and decisive, than to die of a gentle neglect, slow and painful.

The violent episode holds the promise of a quickened relief from the anguish of life, while being abandoned offers a view of our decaying spirit, while tortured by hope.

Living with hope is a curse when immersed in a reality of hopelessness.

Hopelessness is a convenience that spurns love, and embraces the cold comfort of solitude.

It is the absence of risk, but also the absence of joy.

Nonetheless, it carries with it the promise of not being betrayed…again.

Again, because hopelessness only sets in when we’ve been viciously abandoned before, making the hope of being cherished too painful to consider.

We nourish the cruelty of the world that kills our spirit, when we abandon what we love in favour of holding on to the familiarity of what we loathe.

Thus, we destroy the very remedy for which we’ve been praying to heal our broken soul.

Our eyes reveal the hollow in the light of day, and the stinging brutality in the quiet of night, knowing that none look close enough during the daylight hours, while praying that the one who sees everything takes pity on our souls in the tortured darkness.

Breathe, beloved…just breathe…hopelessness has no home in a cherished heart.

#hope #love #romance #companionship #soulfood #soulmates #anincompletelovestory #mybeloved #zaidismail #lovestory #authorsofinstagram #thevillageidiot #relationshipgoals #romancenovel

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…

#hope #expectation #dreams #life #love #romance #companionship #soulfood #soulmates #anincompletelovestory #mybeloved #zaidismail #lovestory #authorsofinstagram #ownyourlife

A brain dump

I need to return to my self. When the feeling of being adrift and the mental fog merge, the road ahead appears as a romantic setting filled with intrigue and adventure, but little answers. In seeking such answers, I may find new paths and new passions, but such a journey cannot be undertaken when chained to the present.

The yokes must first be dismantled before the anchors lifted. The past is of no consequence except for its gifts that continue to colour the present moment. Wishing it away has never resulted in anything more than regret or escapism. Embracing it, despite most often being a cold and uncomfortable embrace, has always offered the opportunity to warm up to it, before moving beyond it.

There appears to be wisdom in learning to love the challenges I face, rather than spurning their roots. I lost myself many times in the distractions that result from a fixation on its roots, often questioning the value of my contribution towards countering the anticipated outcomes that now weigh on my shoulders as yokes of past decisions. Those contributions, when focused on with regret, grew larger than my strength to prevail beyond it, turning it into a living monument that slowly defined my sense of self. Thus I lost myself to moments long gone, and in investments long since diminished in value.

In returning to my self, I must embrace the beauty of my being that afforded me the conviction to contribute towards that which held no promise beyond that moment, but whose hope carried me to see dreams beyond the impossible that I faced. Despite not having achieved those dreams, its descendents have spawned new paths that otherwise would have remained concealed, but importantly, have eliminated any reason to question myself later had I held back in my contribution towards what I hoped to achieve.

Speaking cryptically is a game that tests my resolve between unbridled rage at the world, and quiet contemplation of my right to rage. Rage is only needed when I refuse to embrace the naivety and convictions that encouraged my contribution towards that which I knew carried the promise of betrayal as much as it carried the hope of joy. Denying my contribution to justify my rage would therefore be as hypocritical as the ones who betrayed my efforts because they saw their vulnerability as a weakness to be condemned, and therefore preemptively judged me to be what they expected of me, rather than what I offered in truth.

There’s a harshness that creeps in when we see our tenderness as weakness, rather than seeing it as a proclamation of our ability to remain human in a calloused world. It’s that same harshness that defines the tone with which we receive the tenderness in others. When we assume their tenderness to be a drain on our strength, we lose the benefit of seeing in them the gentleness that we must harbour in us to avoid inviting the harshness of the world into the cavities of our souls. Those cavities, when seen as failings or as evidence of inadequacy, become sources of shame, rather than opportunities to create the joy and the beauty that they await.

Joy and beauty would have remained elusive to my dysfunctional being had I restrained myself when common sense dictated such restraint. It was through abandoning common sense that I departed from the trajectory that honoured the emotionless heritage that had defined my world up to that point. It has always been my ability to dream of being more than I ever had a right to claim that I found myself among beauty and fulfilment that would otherwise have remained foreign to my experience of this world.

It is in my rejection of what others believed to be true about me that I found myself. It was in that rejection that I revealed their rejection of themselves in favour of their need to belong to their soured legacies. It is in that rejection that I found the most beautiful of souls with whom to share sacred moments and even bigger dreams. Without that rejection, I would have been as dejected as many of the vapid ones who spend their lives courting the validation of those who invalidated them to begin with. Seeing the hollowness in their eyes, it was my rejection of such a hollow existence for myself that I created space for kindred souls to create in me what the legacy of my lineage would never have been able to endow.

Thus, it was rejection that guided me to me. It was choosing what I did not want for myself, without waiting for the arrival of common sense, that allowed me to create space for what I hoped to experience, and who I hoped to embrace. And the embrace that I found through such rejection outweighs the accumulated benefit of all the validations that I could have courted instead.

Life has a way of meandering towards that which we desire most, but through paths that often defy logic while priming us for the state we must achieve if we hope to have the capacity to embrace what it is that we want. By respecting the fears that define the efforts of those around us, we limit ourselves to achieving only a shadow of their achievements, because we would never discover the potential that we hold within. Sometimes it’s more important to focus on what we need to reject, than applying ourselves towards that which we hope to achieve. It demands a trust in the harmony of life that exceeds any balance that we may be able to consciously extract from such a flow. Fighting the rapids is often the least effective way to navigate through tough times. Perhaps in that is the wisdom that I need to secure my way beyond this torrential period of my life.

Regardless of which way it goes, I am clear about the path that I choose to pursue through the foggy road that lies ahead. And the companion to accompany me on that journey will reveal themselves when the space I create meets the path that they’re on. Until then, the journey holds the promise of many beautiful revelations, akin to the revelations that revealed the possibility of being more than I ever thought possible for a man whose heritage denied anything beyond mediocrity or common sense.

Legacies are only to be honoured if they honour the truth of who we are. Discovering that truth is therefore only possible when we see in ourselves the possibility of the future, rather than remaining loyal to the inheritance of the past.

The ultimate rebellion

Living romantically, despite the horrors of life, is the ultimate protest

It’s the obstinate rebellion against those who wish to rage, because they have no peace to give

It is the cry of the lover for his beloved

The anguished heart searching for peace

The lonely soul searching for home

To see beauty when surrounded by pain

Or to be gentle when born of torture

To love despite being surrounded by hate

And to claim dignity when shame is the only language spoken

That is the ultimate protest

Because we must strive for what we wish to create

Rather than rage against what we wish to destroy.

The world is full of rage

Perhaps it needs some romance again.

Join me, beloved

Join the conquest of this madman.

#romance #livingromantically #love #suicidalawareness #suicideprevention #depression #anxiety #suicideawarenessmonth #lifecoaching #mybeloved #zaidismail #authorsofinstagram #anincompletelovestory #rageagainsttheworld

True love is never lost

Fate has a way of giving us what we ask for when we don’t realise we’re asking for it.

It is the yearnings of the soul that calls out to the heavens, while our mouths utter pleas that are born of the distractions of needs.

Needs are ephemeral. They pass through us like the passing of fluids through the loins of beasts.

Denial of such needs leads to anger, and anger betrays the soul.

The yearnings of the soul prevail beyond such fickle expression.

It is in the infinity of true love that the soul finds peace.

Whatever ends, is therefore not true to love or to the soul. It is not what physical bond we may maintain that defines such love.

Such a love is defined by the pulse of the soul that continues to beat, eternally rhythmically, for the same soul that set it alight and inspired its beautiful rhythm.

#hope #expectation #romance #companionship #soulfood #soulmates #anincompletelovestory #mybeloved #zaidismail #lovestory #love #authorsofinstagram

Pursuit of servitude

I once asked myself a simple question when I left corporate to follow a new path. What do you do when you’re done with the world, but the world is not done with you? The two and a bit years that followed answered this question many times over, each time with an intensity greater than the last.

The answer appears to be very different from what I was expecting. Initially, I assumed that perhaps the world I thought I was done with was not my world at all. And so I set out to create the world, my world, that I thought was truer to my purpose in life.

Yet, here I am, contemplating again if this is really the world that I wanted to create for myself. When faced with the evidence of the sum total of my efforts, there are two ways in which I could respond. I could be generous and assume that I am still learning and therefore falling short of my goals is an inevitable part of that journey. Or, I could be brutally honest and recognise that perhaps my assumption of being able to claim a world for myself was born in arrogance.

The question that therefore needs to answered is not what to do with the world that may be done with me, but rather, what will it take to recognise my place in this world that is larger than I’ll ever be?

To know my place has always been the greatest mystery. There’s a combination of understanding who I am and what purpose I serve to others that continues to escape me. On both counts. My understanding of myself remains a well kept secret, and as for my purpose, I’ve always pursued roles of servitude. Therefore, any consideration beyond that continues to be a mystery.

My world must therefore be defined by that which demands my contribution. The moment I claim a recompense, I outstay my welcome and violate my purpose. The end result will therefore be inevitably unpleasant. Perhaps the question that I’ve been asking is the wrong question.

But, the answer lies in asking the right question. And if peace is associated with that answer, then it stands to reason that peace, along with my understanding of my place in that world, will continue to be an answer whose question I have yet to grasp.

Cryptic thoughts for a cryptic life. And peace has no part in it.