Tireito

As an adult, a gen-Z, I have heard ‘you owe no one nothing’ more times than I have rewatched DPS(and I have rewatched it a million times).

I don’t know about you, but for me(and my house); We owe people something.

I can’t tell you why or what but one day you will look back and realise you owed someone/people something- a listening ear, a shoulder to  lean on, an explanation, a little kindness, a clap, a torch-because we said we are bringing our own light in case the end of the tunnel is dark, yes? Yes.

A majority of people swear by many things, wealth, routine, family… but you see, few swear by the simple virtues, kindness, honesty, love.

In my interactions with people, I have found that most people are cruel- dishonest, unkind, unsympathetic, tramplers(of dreams, of flowers, of love, of hearts), chaotic- these are all a variation of cruelty.

I have always found this human cruelty bothersome because you see that thing called duality? Duality dictates free will, choice. Animals do not have the privilege of choice, they predate the weak on instinct, kill on instinct, no elaborate plan-just pure instinct.

But people? People are strategic. For a man to kill another person’s dream, kill an animal, hurt, kill a flawless child, destroy another person, drag another through mud- choice, strategy, conscience is involved. This man has free will, religion, love, logical brain but will choose cruelty. Why?

And if I was a preacher, I would preach kindness, the world needs it. I would preach ubuntu- I am because we are. I would hallelujah ‘we owe people something’ into people’s hearts.

Because I am a teacher, I will tell each generation of kids that pass through my hands to be kind to themselves and to others, to be honest in their dealings, to give love in a world so entangled in cruelty and selfishness. We will read Khaled Hoseini and they will have to highlight the line in  Kite Runner that goes something like “…there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft… When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness…”

There are days my fingers itch to hold a pen to paper, however, when I do, I cannot bring myself to write anything extraordinary. Commonplace is all I do.
With this desire to be extraordinary, I lose the power to write anything all together.
My mind is blank and you do not want to be in this volatile state of being.
On such days I want to take out my brain and whack it into thinking more creatively, more coherently, more extraordinarily
I have told you how once I sat down to write and all I could conjure up from the deepest folds of my mind was ‘two fluffy pancakes’-mundane phrases that should not be conceived in the mind of a writer.
On other days ‘commonplace writing’ creeps up on me like darkness does when your heart is broken and on such days I like to believe that writing is my hobby. But is it?

What is your strong suit?
Your talent?

I dip myself into different things but I don’t stay quite long enough to call it a talent.
I write but not like Kafka.
I cook but not like Ramsay.
I play chess but not like Fischer.
I know quite a lot about animals but not like Attenborough.
And many other yada yadas about ‘I do this but not like this person’.
With me, it is always ‘I do this but not like’
Never morphing into perfection.
Is it imposter syndrome?

Or have I bitten by that thing that bit Kafka and he thought he was the world’s biggest loser in writing?
Is it a wanting to be more?
Being me means to be in a constant state of ‘I want to be more’.
Being me means to question my abilities and constantly beating myself for not being ‘better.’
Being me means putting myself at one end of the spectrum and every other ‘smart’ person on the other end.
I don’t want to just write, I want to be a literary giant.
I don’t want to just put together basic words, I want to weave a colour-rich tapestry of words that leaves the world in awe.
I do not want to just learn, analyse things at face value- I want to go down rabbit holes and ditch superficial.
I want to be enchanted by the unknown.
And so when I sit to write and all I can come up with is what Kahlil Gibran would call ‘half talents’, the very core of my being shakes with the turbulence of a soul wanting more, wanting to be people’s muse, wanting to be up there with Plath in the literary ladder.

Are we so appalled by the air of reality that honesty feels like an alien craft we are not willing to embrace?

Are we so accustomed to throwing up our hands in surrender that we’re too tired to lift our hands to peel off the veil-the mask of appearances- to see what truly lies beyond?

Are we so unenchanted by the rawness of human experiences that we seek comfort in superficiality?

Are we so accustomed to our troublesome state of being that we meet calmness, peace, kindness with hostility and nonchalance because it is foreign amidst the bumpiness of our volatility?

Everyone wants what everyone wants but you see me, I am trying not to dip my feet in this murky pool of conformity. Or am I already wallowing in this pool and grappling to break free?

Everyone wants to live life in the fast lane. You see me, I want to have the choice of switching between lanes. I want to feel the thrill of switching lanes.
I want to be giddy at whatever lane I am thrown at.

To live for the hope of it all
To see the stories of people and not their faces
To feel their struggles
To have the calmness of zen masters when the storms within are raging
To have the courage to face the world even when your legs are too weak to stand up for yourself
To remember that failing in life is not the end of life when you feel like you are making two steps forward and one backwards
To appreciate happier days when playing roles as adults seem to be a losing game
To be grateful for every day when we are thinking about growth
And this weekend I hope I am somewhere smiling. Living.

William Blake said;

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour…

This feels homely, feels like the things that make my soul feel at home, like the little joys that gets my heart dancing, feels like love.

What is home for you? Where is your heart the most happiest? Where would you rather be? What are the little things that makes your heart glow?Is home a structure? Is it a person? Is it that place you run to when you want to let the storms inside break free? Or is it that place you run to the facade you put forvthe world comes crashing down? Is home that place you go because it’s a Sabbath?

For me, home is in many things. The things that have built me. The experiences. The people. The flowers in my life. The books.Home is in the good memories I have made

Home is in the petals of daisies I have held and thought they were the most beautiful flowers In the people that have raised me

In the wheat fields I so love

In the books I have drowned in

In the grass that have brushed my bare legs and made me feel better

In the cute smiles on babies

It is in the laugh of people I’ve made happy

It is in that person that asks me to praise and worship him and says whatever I ask for will be given

I’ve made home in the most odd places and it feels beautiful sitting here and realising, there are more beautiful memories to be made. More beautiful books to cry over. More beautiful people to meet. More beautiful songs to discover. More beautiful homes to be made.

© winnwise

You are a storm.

You’re a gentle stream.

You’re passionate.

You’re smart.

You break walls I thought were made of steel.

You’re kind.

You’re strong.

Like a butterfly, you’re fragile yet so bold.

Baby girl, you can always stitch back pieces of your heart, hug yourself and press start like nothing happened.

You can always come back from anything.

The fire in your heart is your power.

The world, baby girl, is your oyster.

It just blows my mind how life happens. How one day you’re miserable and the next you’re living your dreams.

It’s just weird to me that one time people you hold dear find their own loves and move on from you.

How at one point in life you think you have everything together and in the next, everything crumbles apart, breaking you and your soul. Life has this habit of coming fast at us and for the most part, it comes hard and fast- doesn’t care for your experiences, expectations, optimism etc. Could be today, tomorrow or who knows when- comes fast when it’s least expected. Like an evil villain lurking in a dark alley waiting to pounce on that happy kid skipping joyfully home. You work hard, build something to your name, bag your dreams, finally get the bag and everything good but life is a habitual fudger and so you live your life hoping it doesn’t flip on you.

For the optimists, life gets better or is atleast supposed to. Bad experiences means that life is about to get better. For this lot, the fact that life comes in waves means they ought to learn how to surf. Surf, to get to the brighter side of life.

Life for this lot is all about endurance, being strong, looking at the brighter side and simply just hope that it gets better because after all, everything gets better with time, right?

I think most of us are caught in between pessimism and optimism. Optimist when life is predictably going on well and pessimistic when it gets too good or tell tale signs of it going downhill starts to pop. wait! There should be a word for that; Pessioptimist, pessoptimist or something, I don’t know.

I don’t know about you or how you choose to view life – pessimistic/optimistic, but I do know I want life to get better. I don’t care for the ups and downs waves; I want a constant – good life.

I want to be able to dream and live my dreams. I want to hold my love and let them know they’re the brighter side of my life .

I want to scale heights without fear of falling.

I want to experience the tranquil side of life with the people I love.

I want life to be kind for all of us

You see, the thing about being a people’s pleaser is it comes from a place where you’re trying to buy love from the world . Trade your dignity. Your sanity. Your everything. For love. You give but don’t get the love, affection, recognition your inner child craves.

You learn and become a gifted mockingbird singing out your heart for the whole world to hear and be pleased. Only, they always pounce on you like a cat would pounce on an unaware bird.

The thing about feeling unloved is you forget to love yourself and end up trying to buy it because you don’t even know how to love yourself. Trying to fill other people’s cup when yours is empty.Always ending up like a note in the back pocket of their unfavourite jeans.

The thing about having to act grown is you don’t ever realize your mouth is dry from swallowing your pride. Swallowing your feelings because no one ever really said to you that it’s okay to break down.

The thing about wearing smiley masks everyday is no one ever realizes when a river breaks behind the mask. No one ever realizes what happens behind the scenes.

The thing about being a big girl is everytime you have a meltdown you’re reminded that you should always wear your big girl shoes, wipe your face and not let the world see that side of you.

The thing about the world is it clowns you.

There’s a thing about pasts and always coming back to bite, about wanting to heal but not go back.

© blackgirlpoetry

I’ve been listening to this train hoot (and do everything trains do)for a while now.Everytime the clickety clacks hits my ears everything else goes mute and my soul comes to life.

For a minute I can see myself in the places I want to be, I can feel my heart do little excited dances

I even want to go sit by the rail roads and wave and be a child again

Heck, I even think of being a ‘kandawala’

The hooting and the smoke going up has me thinking about Hogwarts

Has me believing I can make magic and be anything I want. I just need to find a wand, right?

I can’t see it (thanks to these houses) but I swear every time I hear the hooting I just want to run and watch it make it’s majestic slither to God knows where

See, a few years ago I never had this fascination for trains and I couldn’t care if they hooted or even wailed like babies but I might have met someone that loved trains and here I am.

This train is not even in a hurry. She just comes, entertains me for some minutes and she’s gone like she wasn’t even there. Gives me a good two minutes of dopamine and gone like she’s on some duty.

The last hoot before she disappears to the other side of the village is her way of telling me she’ll be there again tomorrow and forever.This train makes me feel alive and probably makes me feel at peace albeit for some few minutes. I live for these