Word from the Wise
Go gentle on your soul…
though body writhes in sin
and dross. With grace extol
all kindred hearts within
your own ability
to offer kindness. They
who walk beside you see
both great and small displayed
in beating heart. Wait free
on wonder’s call. Don’t fret
the moment. Charity
will never earn regret
when offered free. Give love
as if its richest stores
are yours to cull. Enough –
is here at hand – no more
required for happiness.
Beyond breath, the only
choice of moment is yes?
or no? to what awaits.
Comfortable in Your Own Skin
Listen to your peace in stillness,
own the sound that beats inside,
kick off the dust of yesterday,
wing like an eagle to tomorrow.
Ladle out love in big scoops,
accept the winds of change
and ride them into the horizon.
Eavesdrop on heartfelt songs
of innocence reverberating,
uplift your questioning eyes
and seek your own advice
because others have not trod
your path scattered with
withered flowers and scars
of darkened corridors.
Stir laughter into your tears,
flow forth in lively colors,
speak your truths loudly.
Play with fire and flesh,
develop strength of spirit,
run swiftly into the future.
Remember who you were,
recognize who you are
and discover who you will be –
but above all, be yourself,
comfortable in your own skin.
I was eight. We were in line, my mom and I, waiting for the community pool to open. The sun was not likely to break the hazy morning clouds and a sticky dew blanketed my face and arms. Looking around, itchy, bored and petulant, I had the audacity and poor taste to make fun of a large woman in too small flip flops and bright pink bikini in front of us. Like all things said which should not be said, it was said loudly, callously cutting through the thick air. The woman didn’t turn, but instead huddled herself shoulders to ears, trying to be smaller, trying to unhear. My mother, previously sugar and kisses on all occasions, grabbed my wrist hard (it would later bloom purple bruises from her fingertips), leaned down and whispered quick, spitting admonishments into my already shaking ear.
“The world DOES NOT revolve around YOU! In fact, very few people know you exist or care. I love you and so does your Dad and for that you are lucky. But in the grand scheme of things, you are no more important than that lady and you have no right to make her feel smaller than you. Foster love my dear, not hate. And apologize. NOW!”
It has occurred to me over the years that more people need this advice.
Courtesy: my best advice;
Stop bearing the name "smart" when you can't differentiate between green and lemon,
Stop being punctual to church when your are not ready for the sermon.
Don't ask her out when you can't take her in,
Stop being sorry when you intentionally committed the sin.
Don't be such a jerk when she attempt her first kiss,
Don't waste those advice when your still gonna loose the keys.
Cast away those innocent face behind the defendant's court when you know your going to jail,
Stop shading irrelevant tears, we all know the failure was real not a tale.
Don't turn his bed service when we both know he's never gonna fix a ring on your finger,
Stop caring for other kids when you can't care for your little linder.
Putting on those Goggles can't dash you the name "professor ",
Seducing all guys around you can't make you act like the confessor.
Stop making money when you don't know your worth in life,
Stop reading sweet prose and poems when your not ready to comment or like.
Screw X,Y,Z; Love yourself!!
Have your own radical and honest opinion about yourself. Don't dwell onto what X,Y,Z says about you. X,Y,Z doesn't even know what they are doing with their lives. Don't waste your precious and blessed time for wrong judgements of other. It's only you who know WHO YOU ARE. Cherish yourself; respect yourself; and most importantly LOVE yourself; for you are very Special.
Sometimes you need to learn your lesson the hard way.
You can't take back what you've already given.
Sometimes there's no second chance
Because sometimes it's now or never.
Opportunity knocks only once but regret bangs on your door forever
Death is not a solution to problem.
Vices are not an option either.
The stigma shrouding emotional pain is that it entails a kind of weakness on behalf of the sufferer. Whether it be a breakup, disappointing oneself or another we love, or simply not making it through an average day without feeling miserable. There may be a specific reason, or there could be a series of coincidences such as little sleep, a sugar crash, a bad interaction, that leads to a strange fog of sadness. Or ... it could simply be living. Being human has never been easy, not since its conception. Even kings of ancient history, whom had every possible pleasure within arm's reach, were known for expressing every bit of anguish that we have.
Being human means having a propensity for suffering, no matter who we are, or where we are.
Simultaneously, it means being prone to seeing, experiencing, knowing, and sharing the strange beauty of living in a way other animals cannot. Life contains beauty in subtlety, and it takes an admirable strength to be the type of person who sees it more often than the darkness cast by its shadow. That is the hope in creating, that we can take all that is given to us and make something beautiful out of it, even if what we were given felt wretched, useless, or boring.
However, there is no denying that it seems life enjoys fracturing us into pieces and scattering them across our timelines to be picked up, dropped again, discovered once more, and placed incorrectly in us. We came into this world whole, and we may leave it broken, but we will be infinitely more fortunate to have traded pieces along the way than to persist the same as we did in infancy.
This means that there will be moments when just breathing seems difficult. Our bodies may feel like cages, and our minds poor operators of it. There will be moments when nothing at all makes sense, and even that makes little sense, because it was just yesterday that you were perfectly fine.
If pain has a stigma of weakness, then strength is accompanied by the delusion of being whole. I wish I could say I taught myself this, but I have to be honest, someone I love showed me this critical detail of strength: You are not strong for pretending to be, you are strong for knowing you are weak, that you are human, that sometimes you're unbreakable as a glacier and other times fragile as porcelain. Acting out of that knowledge is what births the honesty to be courageous, not the misconception that we always should be.
"Be a man about it."
"You don't have to let this get to you."
"It'll be all right. Just don't think about it."
The infinite list of useless phrases that have been muttered to us while we shake like thunder. Without a doubt, you've heard one or two.
Living is precious, therefore the emotions accompanying it are, too. But life is too short to wallow long in sorrow, even if we can appreciate it for what it brings, from time to time. On the same hand, sometimes those storms within us are simply unavoidable. No amount of eating, sleeping, or working out right will cure some of the calamity that erupts within us. Those moments can attack us when we least expect it.
Although there is something to be said about looking past our weaknesses and vulnerabilities, to practice being defiant in the face of adversity ...
There is nothing admirable about lying to ourselves. If we feel the swells of our emotions behind our eyes, our chests growing tight with the strain of taking even breaths, our skin wanting to shake and quiver in the embrace of yourself or someone you love, then that is simply what you must do. Embrace the instinct. Trust yourself to know that you should overflow, to tip the excess out so you can stay sane. Afterwards, you can let the remnants settle, and feel better for it.
If you felt laughter brewing with giddy warmth in your stomach, would you keep it in?
If you felt a character murmuring words to you throughout the day, would you refuse to write their story?
If you felt compelled to tell the someone that you love them with all of your words and the ones you're yet to collect, would you stop yourself?
So why deny ourselves the simple release of crying?
Holding emotion in hurts because it's deception. It's us punishing ourselves for feeling pain, instead of supporting ourselves in the midst of the agony. Our shadows are there to remind us that, first and foremost, we should know when we need to take care of ourselves, and to listen to the backdrop of emotions that gather each day.
'Holding it in' is one of the most accepted and unhealthy practices of society that I can think of. Hidden within that act of denying ourselves the release of weeping, we practice denying ourselves the ability to be honest with ourselves, and consequently, those we care for. It creates layer of self-deceit, and ironically enough, true weakness in delusion.
The sooner we allow our skies to weep, the sooner we allow our storms to pass, and the sooner we can speak the words we need to say without stuttering, that may do a little to mend the wounds that have been dealt.
Weep. So that when you need to, you can truly laugh.