Tag: soulmates

  • To give up silently

    To give up silently

    “When you give up on something, it becomes a weighty silence that you carry within you for the rest of your life.

    It’s a quiet acceptance that what once was the centre of your being will never be a part of your being again.

    The silence is the only gesture that will honour such loss, such surrender.

    And when anyone asks, if they even know to ask, all you can muster as a response is a sheepish grin and an involuntary shrug, hoping to appear nonchalant enough to hide the pain and the shame that you struggled with in the tortured darkness all those lonely, distraught nights.

    That’s how the light fades, and the dullness replaces the enthusiasm that once defined your spirit.

    Only, there’s no one looking close enough to notice. So your shame remains safe, and your heart, incomplete.”

    Another excerpt from the manuscript threatening to bleed out of my heart and onto the keyboard.

    From the sequel to my novel, this is a piece that may make it into my next novel titled, Taqdeer: A dance with destiny.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • It starts and ends with gratitude

    It starts and ends with gratitude

    Many struggle with achieving a sense of fulfilment in their lives because they have yet to appreciate, with sincerity, the value that they hold within themselves.

    We only make ourselves truly available in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, if we believe that who we are will be valued by others.

    The irony is that gratitude for who we are is needed before we see fit to share anything of ourselves with others, while sharing the same is the first step towards experiencing the gratitude of fulfilment.

    Such conundrums are common in our efforts to live a life of purpose.

    Purpose is not found in the acquisition of valuables for ourselves, but rather in the creation of value for others.

    I think in there lies the secret to experiencing any sense of peace in this lifetime.

    When we protect ourselves from the possibility of rejection, we deny ourselves the very fulfilment we need to feel complete, and therefore create opportunities for bitterness or regret to take hold in our lives.

    It all starts with gratitude, and fulfilment is sealed with gratitude.

    Be grateful for how your journey shaped you into who you are, so that you stop holding others accountable for your happiness.

    [This was a difficult thought process to articulate. Hope it makes sense.]

  • This is going to hurt

    This is going to hurt

    Another excerpt from a manuscript slowly taking shape in my head. From the sequel to my novel, this is Taqdeer: A dance with destiny.

    In this scene, the main character, Zayd, once more finds himself faced with the betrayal of one close to him, but it’s not enough to deter him from remaining defiant against the odds.

    “Eventually, I get tired of dodging the bullet and instead I stand, square-shouldered, facing the onslaught with eyes wide open, my heart gently ticking away in my chest, waiting for what I always knew was inevitable. Knowing that it will hit me hard, but defiantly standing there waiting to see exactly how hard it’s going to hit.”

    Will his love story ever be completed? Or is life only ever meant to be an exercise in fulfilling duty towards those who have rights over him?

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • The twins of love and pain

    The twins of love and pain

    We see in the world around us that which occupies the most space in our hearts.

    When our hearts are filled with love and affection, we find no place for hate or bitterness.

    When we hold space in our life for justice for past oppression, we prevent that space from being filled with the love that we may receive in the present moment.

    The need for justice often overwhelms any prospect of happiness because we feel denied as long as those who caused us pain live without consequence.

    When we’re filled with the rage of revenge, or the need for justice, any approaching love or affection appears as a threat for further pain because the possibility of betrayal is still clearly etched in the pain from the past that has yet to be reconciled.

    Healing then becomes dependent on justice, and life is put on hold. That holding pattern serves as a constant reminder of the injustice that we suffered, or the betrayal that cut so deeply.

    Thus, the oppression of the past contaminates the present, and denies us a future of the very happiness we hope to experience.

    But, when our rage convinces us that love and pain are twins, the promise of peace becomes a threat, and the holding pattern of pain becomes a comfort. Thus, we become unavailable to those who love us, and remain committed to seeking vengeance against those who thrive on our misery.

  • Sometimes, our struggles need us

    Sometimes, our struggles need us

    A line that might make it into the final draft of my new novel.

    “And I think you’ll realise that the struggles of your life were not simply struggles intended for you, they were moments that were in need of only what you were capable of offering to make them better than they were.”

    This is from a scene where Zayd, the main character, tries to comfort someone he deeply admires, and loves, after she has been through a horribly abusive relationship.

    Will his ineptitude at human connections and emotional expression fail him yet again? You’ll have to read the sequel to find out.

    In the meantime, if you haven’t read the first part of this series, you can order your copy now from my website at zaidismail.com or via Amazon or Kindle.

    Taqdeer: A dance with destiny, follows on from An Incomplete Love Story, revealing the struggles of life in a dystopian culture, distorted by classism and the caste system.

    Photo credit : Adobe Stock

  • 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

  • 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