“Life is a ladder of splinter-covered rungs; every leap reaches higher.” – LKS
Fragility, stuck in cement, she is a vase of flowers underneath the bling and the tats. She's a sprinkle of bad and a whole lotta sass. The stubble she wears, on the sides of her crown, removing her hair as it falls to the ground. She's a lotus of rocks, a petal of stone, in a garden of sticks she's a fountain of bones. The scars on her face are like veins from a stem that's been plucked from the field and tucked into cement.
Dripping dabs of her aura and revealing secrets as her colours splash across the plain canvas. The thickened paint pours from her refined pores like acrylic wine seeping from her chest. The burning brush beats to the rumbling crash of her emotions as she covers the edges and corners of her story portrayed. The paint leaks from her pastel fingers as it colours her oily cheeks with a hint of a smile. Her tale dissipated from her fragile core, leaning strong against the sturdy wall for all to admire the fire released from her flames.
An unreachable dream of glittering streams and whispering fairies. The knotted vines entangled in the density of dark shadows. The shivering cold weakens the warmth of the flowers and freezes their stems to the imperfect ground. The crippling roar of the clawing creatures deafens the laughter of the creeping critters as they scurry beneath stones to not be found. The glistening moon becomes engulfed by the immense spook of the clouds. The life of the dreamer unravels all but enchantment.
Self-esteem: Others will try to drag you down through their use of hurtful words or display of careless actions. They will poke at your weaknesses and belittle you to try and break you down.
Self-doubt: You will begin to believe what others have wrongfully said about you. You will second-guess who you thought you were. You will wonder if you somehow deserved for them to break you.
Self-destruction: You will convince yourself that the blame is yours to carry. You will begin poking at your weaknesses instead of relying on your strengths. You will try to fix what is not fixable and was never whole to begin with. You will abandon your own needs and desires, simply to make things right again. You will feel lost, hopeless, and responsible for everything. You will feel completely broken.
Self-reflexion: You will begin questioning everything about yourself, in an attempt to rebuild your confidence. Like an eagle, overlooking the situation down below, you will begin seeing things from a different perspective in order to see the lesson for what it is. You will ask yourself how you can put your pieces back together.
Self-awareness: Through accepting to learn, move on, and grow from situations, you will have a greater sense of why you crumble, what makes you tick, and what weakens or strengthens you. You will reach a point of thoughts, emotions, and feelings just passing you by, and you will have the ability to simply say “hello” to what you accept, and “goodbye” to what you refuse. You will start knowing and showing what you stand for. Although some moments will still be difficult to handle, you will not allow them to consume you as they once did. You will feel enlightened. You will begin feeling fixed.
Self-care: You will commence a process where you realize that you count and matter. You will remove toxicity to attract light into your life. You will do things that are important to you. You will learn to set your limits and will ensure that these are respected. You will begin enjoying life again. You will feel good about yourself through brief, but much-needed moments you choose to invest in yourself. You will work on fixing you.
Self-love: You will accept who you are, wholeheartedly. You will surround yourself with love and sprinkle yourself with kindness. You will give others the impression that you have life figured out, as they witness your light blinding the vision they perhaps once had of you. Through loving yourself, your strengths will intensify and your weaknesses will dissolve. Those who enjoy poking others will realize that you cannot be poked. They will acknowledge that their technique only works on the vulnerable folks who have not yet reached this part in the healing process. You will surround yourself with good people and appropriate feelings. You will finally have stopped living your life in the same redundant cycle that has continuously destroyed you. The more love you exude, the more love will freely enter your life. Don’t be fooled! You might still have difficult moments or harsh critics to overcome, but the more you practice the green, the further away you will be from the red. You are you! Being you is wicked awesome, and you deserve nothing in return; aside from genuine love and pure happiness! Others will stop breaking you, because you will feel unbreakable. The vicious cycle will be broken, not you!
Every one of us has been programmed, from an early age, to deal with our emotions, feelings, and difficulties, the way our parents showed us to. Whether that means sucking it up buttercup, or kissing it all better, depends on aspects such as transgenerational transmission and teaching better when you know better.
Our parents, through their own trials and errors, either willingly or unwillingly (but rarely ever ill-intentionally), try shaping our future to prevent us from reproducing the same “mistakes” they made in their younger years. Often times, they unknowingly condition our reactions and thought process through modeling their own self-regulating methods. Children are either not taught to self-regulate from lack of attention received; from refusing that any form of feeling, emotion, or vulnerability be spoken of, acknowledged, or dealt with; from never having needed to because their parent firmly regulated them instead; or from learning to wrongfully react to their surroundings and to what is eating them up inside by copy/pasting through example.
In no way does this place the blame on our caregivers, who did what they could with what they had and what they knew (lets not forget that their brains were also wired to “survive”); it simply explains a big piece of the puzzle as to why our electrical minds and mechanical hearts function differently from one person to the next.
Most of the time, our current situation rattles our core; not because of the present moment, but due to how a similar event caused us to react in the past. Our wires automatically send waves of the last time I felt this way or this happened, this is how I reacted and it worked. We therefore repeat the reaction, over and over, because that is how we were programmed to “survive” and move on.
It is actually possible to completely reinvent parts of your DNA; to drop the unfortunately often imposed transgenerational transmission anchored within us, and to reprogram our “survival” methods. Lots of work is needed, but by simply acknowledging the feeling or emotion, allowing ourselves to feel what we’re feeling in the present moment (as nothing more than a feeling), reflecting on how WE wish to work through it, and moving on, we can slowly rewire our brains.
There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with being slightly or overly emotional, or feeling overwhelmed at times; it is entirely part of our natural human nature and required self-development. Learning to choose how we react, and being able to self-regulate, are primordial needs to successfully achieving individual fulfillment.
No emotions are shown. They are rigid as stone. They whisper and hum, in their bubble, alone. Blocking smells, light, and noise, pitching tones from their voice, inappropriate things make them smile and rejoice. Away from the crowd, when the people are loud, endless talking of things you care nothing about. The hyper or hypo (real sensitive touch) makes them hate being rubbed, or they cradle too much. They speak from their mind, without filters or signs, or they overreact to what you find benign. They take things too literal, repeat what’s retained, then, they run it in circles; inside of their brain. They piece things together, the way they know to, and the pieces land snug, but seem unfit to you. They do wonders in art, and their memory’s strong, but cannot seem to fit in the group they belong. What seems like a curse, is a blessing (dressed up), cause they push hard in life and they never give up.
Through buckets of tears and puddles of rain, he stood brave through the storm; by her side. Turned the string to a rope, when she ran out of hope, as he tucked her limp body at night. The streaks in her strands, they grow old like her hands, as the depths of her wrinkles expand. Through the thick and the thin, from the good to the bad, still devoted to being her man. He has carried her heart, till now from the start, and his love it will not fade away. As others would run, for the sake of his "one", he has chosen with her he would stay.
Forcefully standing, yet brutally misunderstood, he trots through life with armour for sleeves; a stoic slave to his parts, ripped apart from his heart.
His tranquil vulnerability is superficially cloaked with a fallacious quantity of perfection and is sumptuously styled to portray an indestructible coat of arms. His emotionless appearance crumbles from the eternal dryness of his cheeks. "Be a man!", they shouted.
His weakness renders him magnificent, but the carelessly moulded stone that blocks his pores and blurs his thoughts remains intact. Unable to chip at the monstrous boulder, gentle caresses delicately dismantle his titanium-layered skin.
A streaming tear seems prohibited, but a sturdy rock does not dissolve in rushing waters. The noticeable extravagance and grandeur of a man is not diminished at the slightest smidgen of emotional discomfort. There exists no apparent need to achieve a tearless legacy status.
Feelings are meant to be worn on sleeves; not buried beneath flat sheets of metal and solid stone.
Foreign unattainable concept to some, but abundance to most. Repeatedly searching to discover what does not hide and cannot be found. A thought of a thing that should easily be felt; not thought. There is no falling into it or out of it, it is there or nonexistent. Its presence does not drag along pain; only its absence or loss holds that power. There should be no conditions lurking in its shadow; determining whether it remains or dissipates. It carries pure happiness and joy; not painful hurt and judgement. It improves sense of worth; not guilt and doubt. No scale, no increments can define it; there it is, or it will never be. It does not appear with a hammer and needs no building; the foundation is not a project, and sturdy walls should not need to be dismantled. It does not resemble a piece of home; its wholeness is home in the adequate form. It soothes and appeases the soul without tearing and breaking the heart. It is a merry dance; not an eggshell tip-of-the-toe walk. It does not go, through words or actions, it does not grow from watered seeds; its non-toxic air should bring you peace and should allow your lungs to breathe.
As I stood there, second guessing the outfit I had firsthandedly selected from the mannequin on display, I felt the warm touch of an old soul cling to my bare forearm. I could literally count the well-defined wrinkles on her right hand; like the rings of a rotting fallen oak tree. She further approached me, in a near “too close for comfort” sort of manner, and murmured softly to me (while peeking in the opposite direction): “I’m sorry ma’am for all of these tears, but my husband has mostly been having bad days lately and today is a wonderdul day because he feels handsome”.
Unsure of what had just happened, my eyes left the elongated mirror and turned the other way; to where she was looking. A very old man stood proud, with a bright blue regular tee on, as he smiled cheerfully at the glass reflecting his posture. His level of content was possibly comparable to that of a two-year-old boy, riding in a coin-operated car, right down to the very last penny, in the middle of the shopping centre.
As he scurried away to remove the happiness from his chest, the old woman turned to me, once more, and added: “with his advanced memory loss and state of delirium we rarely ever get a smile out of him”. As the lump crept up in my throat and tears began overflowing in my eyes, she thanked heaven for the perfect blue tee and said: “today is a good day”. Little did she know, I cried my pretty little blue eyes out the instant they exited the store.
I will always hang on to this event; which I am so grateful for. I think back to this old fella often, and, without knowing it, his happiness that day has since inspired me a great deal.
When life seems to be falling apart, I close my eyes and remember his impactful smile in the mirror. If a simple blue tee can miraculously make an old hopeless couple forget overwhelming worries, for a few split seconds, then a smile can fix or help me focus on what truly matters. Unfortunately, not all days are guaranteed to be good. When they are, embrace them!
The tangled stubborn knot in the profound pit of her concave stomach. The murkiness blurring her capacity to remarkably navigate across the treacherous waves of life. The weighted cinderblock wrapped tightly to her delicate ankles. The strangulating pressure testing her battered heart. The “im” to her possible and the “un” to her kind.
The mud clumped densely to the stem of her refined lotus. The oversized gloves strapped to her unbreakable fists. The reason to her falling dirt and the cause to her rising ashes. The “un” to her apologetic and the “im” to her penetrable.
When your apparent inevitable failure becomes another’s main priority and they reach the extent of purposely stepping out of their twisted way to torment and tear you to pieces, the sweetest method to achieve any sort of reasonable revenge is by brilliantly succeeding nonetheless.
Unfortunately, some folks are willing to stop at nothing and cannot easily be snipped from your branches or cut from your life. They leave you hung out to dry, like a shriveling cactus in the boiling sun, and then unjustifiably blame you for the evident lack of rain. For these sadly tormented and twisted people, nothing you possibly do will ever seem good enough. If done wrong, they blame you; if done right, they blame you still.
They perhaps even seem to have perfected the malicious art of pointing their crooked and dirty finger in your direction for their initial miscalculated wrongdoings.
If they wish to see you cry, laugh. If they wish to see you crumble, stay in one piece. If they wish to see you fail, succeed. If they wish to see you lose, win.
Never guarantee them, on a served silver-plated platter, any type of preplanned ill-intentioned craved inner satisfaction! Never dim your bright light amidst their stormy dark weather! You can kindly lend them sunscreen, but you have no reason to rest in the shade because their skin is boiling.
They might go to extreme lengths to finally see you pout, so the best and sweetest revenge is showing them your glorious smile; regardless whether or not it is sincere. Fake it if you have to!
To my sweet fellow writers, I wish simply to say: That you guys are all awesome, In your own, unique way. Tremendous respect, For your opinions and views, For the thoughts that you write, And the words that you choose.
I defeated the thunder and rain, All the thorns in my side, And the pain. The heavy black cloud came, As it covered the rose garden, But you sent down a rainbow, And delicately whispered: "keep going my darling".
When the drug leaves your veins, and your soul drifts away, and the person in you becomes found, you will walk through the gates, until then I'll await, for a much-needed chat on a cloud.
When our time here is done, and our ash turns to dirt, when the needle is out of your arm, you will see all the hurt, and the ones down below your addiction did nothing but harm. There are no bottles and pipes, no powder and knives, in this magical place we will go. The one who will sit, next to me for a bit, is the person you were long ago. I will answer your questions, on all that you missed, as we kept on in life all alone, and we'll cherish the times that I prayed late at night, for the addict to hurry back home.
You must stop further damaging yourself! Your destiny is not yours to control! You can’t stop the world from turning!
You can make smarter choices and more informed decisions, but, in the end, the bigger picture has been predestined for you all along. No amount of kicking or screaming can change its course!
The mysterious universe aligns all of your cards; regardless the royal flush hidden in your hands. It places the people and arranges all things according to its well-thought-out plan.
The difficult moments all need to unfold in order to carry you through to the next unveiling shift in your lifelong trajectory. Though it seems like an evil plan while your two feet are sinking, it is actually the magic of the universe working to prepare you for every next step your calling will need to overcome.
Every hurdle was set in your path; they didn’t simply appear from the blue. You could not, and cannot, change the overall outcome the universe already has in store for you.
Your future was decided long ago, and you have but two choices: kneel down with palms up and accept what’s to come, or resist and refuse and what’s to come will be forced upon you. One of the two options seems more peaceful than the other.
Have trust in the universe and know that it has your back at all times. It does not work its purpose with ill intentions.
Every moment is a lesson; creating room for more growth. All that happens, is for you to be guided, so you can reach your final preplanned destination.
So, just sit and relax as it shifts and it shapes all the things meant already to be shipped out your way.
Unfortunately, people will always have something to say. It is wiser and easier to improve your resistance to criticism than it is to silence each spoken word.
Opinions will always be shared without invitations, and advice will always continue to be thrown your way; whether your ears want to listen or not. The wise offer wisdom and the not-so-wise are hopelessly convinced that they are.
It is therefore utterly impossible to please every person included in your circle; despite the amount of perfection you attempt to achieve.
The trick is to let only your own opinion matter. Take what they say without taking it to heart, and keep doing what feels right to you.
The title of “author” is not a firm prerequisite to creating a written masterpiece. Some paintings are simply acrylics dripped on a previously blank canvas. The painter conducts his notes with a brush; freely releasing his emotions. His words pour from a pail of ink covering a sheet of paper with bright vibrant colours; much like the richness of a writer’s text. The words make the art, and the lines create the piece, but the written thoughts and the colourful emotions come from the master. We are all painters of words and authors of portraits.
The message it said: “I am better off dead”, as she read the first line from her child. She ran for the keys, and headed to search; body numb and her mind running wild.
Her hands trembling too much, to hold on to the wheel; steaming down through the roads in a panic. Then with no sign around, her car door opened up, she collapsed to her knees on the pavement.
The screams of her voice, from a place deep within, escaped in a thickened black cloud, and the pain in her chest almost took every breath, as she cried for her baby out loud.
At first, she just cuddled the floor; her soul gone from her lone empty core. Then, unable to sleep and unwilling to eat, she slowly began letting go.
No feelings inside, with the urge left to die, she struggled her way through each day. The pictures came down and were tucked in a place, and belongings were all thrown away.
Not a second goes by in the day, without thoughts of the running away. But she fights to hold on, while her baby is gone, cause her child would want her to stay.