Every single time my eyes see something familiar. Something that reminds me – or draws me to a place where memories flood me. Every time my eyes take notice, I feel the tug.
A quick gentle pull – that might be described as a muscle contraction – wait, is the heart a muscle? Hmmm, but you get my point. My heart’s way of say, ‘hey! We know that, don’t we?’, ‘Should we react, or shouldn’t we?’
Conversations with myself – there is a lot of that that goes on within myself. Does it you? Do you ever sit in your silent corner and give your heart a heated berating until you have convinced yourself you will do better next time. And boy does next rear her ugly head… ‘Screaming, ready or not, here I come – you can’t hide…’
But then next time, there is no tug – you have now trained yourself not to take notice or react.
Does this mean that you are now fine? You now have permission to forget? Can you now erase that part of yourself. Do you make your memories adapt? Pick out the good, forget the pain, erase the hurt – after all, you did once, oh so long ago, kneel at a cross.
Is this what it really means? Are these the battles that we have allowed ourselves to be fooled into fighting – Constantly trading food for milk.
And all this because of a tug – probably a spasmic muscle that just won’t quit. Every single moment that I willingly give in, results in a pained smile.
Pained smiles. This is what my fellowships are truly made of. Hidden pained smiles. But then again, I could have just cleaned out the medicine cabinet and not hit import antigravity. This could all just be an elaborate illusion that I have built and dwelt on for way to long.
I am smiling as I write this. Actually, my chest is not to happy – last night was rather breezy and now breathing is not as easy as it was last week.
The topic of being brave was been making rounds in my head. I have been wondering whether being brave has anything to do with showing strength. I think that maybe some part does but I think there is also strength to be shown by the lack of strength.
For the one who wakes up every morning already drained by their thoughts and emotions. Their bravery is shown by the fact that they opened their eyes and got out of bed.
For the one who smiles and makes jokes when inside their heart is broken into pieces that they cannot even begin to put together. Their bravery is shown by the fact that they move beyond their own feelings to show up and be their for their friends.
I don’t particularly like this bravery thing. No. I really don’t. In fact, I would much rather the show of strength. But that is my secret – lol! Was until I wrote it here.
But we need to be brave. Not for ourselves but for those who will come after us. You see, there will be an 100% chance that you will meet someone struggling with the same thing you are.
By then, you will be the one saying, take it one day at a time. Which is the same as saying, just be brave.
So for now… just be brave.
they won’t let me in.
now that we are done.
with this phase.
also known as school.
when you go back home and you are like, someone remind me why this seemed like a good idea two years ago?
so what next?
are you working?
do you have a job?
are you looking?
God help me!
there are things about life that you do not know. things that you will never know. things that will never be a surety. a certainty.
there are things about life that cannot change. there are things about life that we think we know. things that we think are certainty.
more often than not, these intertwine. boundaries are blurred and certainty marred. this is when fear and uncertainty reign supreme.
the blurred blobby mess presented it self to me. hi. i am your life. deal with it. and deal with it we must. we must look at our lives and recognize. the mess. the hurt. the pain. the sorrow. we must. we must acknowledge the victories. the breathe that enters and leaves our bodies. the light that pierces through the foggy perception that demarcates our dream territory and our reality.
having moments is okay. feeling too much is okay. my memoir already has a title. dreams are meant to be laid in the hands of God. or are we meant to sweat and toil for them. not having them handed to us like a present.
this is what happens when i do not do my devotions regularly. when i do not watch my spiritual intake. I wouldn’t be offended if you found this spooky.
there is a point in here some where. one day i shall find it.
there is something in the emptiness that evokes a response from the heart of God. there is something in disparity that awakes his heart. there is something in the nothing that is professed that sparks the playful glint in his eye.
i have nothing, except…
we have nothing, but…
we have nothing, but…
the glint that turns into a grin… which breaks into a smile that is followed by, “bet you have no idea what i am about to do”