Tag Archives: future

Love for life- Romantic Monday

25 Feb

Image source: http://www.forwardedemails.com I own no rights.

– The meaning of life is to live rich. To be courageous. Life is short and there’s many lives for us to live within that short time. Many places to see, many wells to peek in. You don’t have to jump straight into them all but at least take a look and see how deep the water is. Find what rich life means, to you. Is it money? No…

– Money might be riches in your wallet but what are the riches of the heart is a totally different matter.

– You’re right. So don’t be afraid. Go where your heart yearns to go.

 

Above is the conversation I just had with my neighbour. It came out of nowhere, as I was coming home from my walk. Out of nowhere came the words I needed to hear, the courage I needed to feel again. Who knew? Who knew that life can be this generous?

My neighbour did.  He had the wisdom. Now it has been passed on to me. And I wish to pass it on to you.

So I hope, I wish, I pray you feel blessed today. Just remember:

The love for life is the only love you need. Out of that love is all other love born.

 

I cradle the silence

I bow my head as life’s candle is lit

I can see the flame trembling

In the meandering trail of birds

Rejoicing in the cry of a newborn

My gaze, it answers to the infinity

My fingers run smooth

In morning’s blinding curtain

With gratitude

With freedom of breath

In laughter and in vehemence

They run and my hands

They lift me up

When I throw myself in between

The blades of thunder and light

I am the spark

Flaring, blazing

I am the warmth born

Where those two blades meet

I am life

Where swords of contrasts

Sometimes dash to fall

In love

If you feel tired, I hope your strenght is revived. If you feel happy, I hope you feel happier today than you did yesterday. I hope for peace to your soul. Better still, I believe in hope, happiness and peace. I believe in love. I believe in life. I even believe in Mondays.

Wishing you peace and love on this particular one!

A Tidal Wave – Starting over, DP Challenge

15 Jan

This weeks Writing Challenge:

” Making a new start is never as simple as it seems on paper. It’s easy to talk about losing a few pounds or giving up the job you hate to weave animal-shaped baskets on a tropical island, but less so to make it happen, and keep at it.

In this week’s writing challenge, we’re asking you to write a short piece of creative writing (fiction/poetry/prose poetry/freeform mindjazz/whatever floats your boat) on the theme of Starting Over.”

DSCF0973



A Tidal Wave

Forest's bark teeth 
Chew away the distant rumble
Of the cars and crowded skyscrapers
Leisurely the breathing pillars grin
Tickled by the treecreeper
Its light-feathered scrambling
Pirouetting my head higher
Till I'm taken to that line
Where all elements blend
Into fine-fibred mists
A vivid palette of an alchemist
An elastic dance of coexistence
Symbiosis, harmony, me
My heartbeat suddenly
In rhythm, a drum of life
Beating even the steepest
Steps of happiness
Its pulse flowing through me
In rushing rollercoasters of blood
Awakening in me
A tidal wave of new beginnings 

Promise of Tomorrow – Daily Prompt: This is My Life

11 Jan

Today’s tantalising Daily Prompt was:

If you could read a book containing all that has happened and will ever happen in your life, would you? If you choose to read it, you must read it cover to cover.

The only knowledge of tomorrow I need is the feeling of being alive today. The trust that life carries us, that life carries on after us, that it did so before us and will do so for an eternity. When I feel this comfort, peace and clarity inside me I know there’s nothing else I need. No Tarot cards or books with psychic powers.

Promise of Tomorrow

Sometimes I just
Spin and spin and spin
Like a blind firefly
Because I know
My lips will not become
Worn from kissing the air
My body will not be beaten harsh
On the hot anvil of love
But that one day
As I spin and spin and spin
It will be dropped there
Carelessly, to gain warmth
To be peaced back together
From the dizzying mists
I have visited
This I know
A certainty of living
With a feeling heart
And only this I need
A pulsing promise of tomorrow

Breathing discoveries- Finding your place

21 Dec
Stormy Weather by Beatrice Baumgartner-Cohen, I own no rights.Source: artfinder.com

Stormy Weather by Beatrice Baumgartner-Cohen, I own no rights.
Source: artfinder.com

“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say”

J.R.R Tolkien – Lord Of The Rings

Where do you think we belong?

Have you found your place in this world?

Have you ever felt in love with too many places all at once,  felt like you are living in between? Squatting on the border of two countries, one leg on each side. Or two cities, or two houses, or two beds. Have you ever felt distance weighing you down wherever you are?

I met a woman in a plane once. She was young and lovely. She was from Rome, had lived four years in Bangkok, was travelling to Finland and was currently living in the UK. Next week, she said, I’m going to Ukraine.

Where would you say she was from? Does it even matter?

Do you think the feeling of belonging is definately bound to a place? Or is it just something abstract floating inside you? Is belonging just a synonym to feeling comfortable, or is it the feeling of total acceptance of everything inside you and around you? Do you think the only map to guide us can be found in our hearts? Is there even a map?

Do you think there is one set path for us to take or just little stepping stones scattered carelessly around, chances that just come our way? Is there a place for everyone?

 

Breathing discoveries

 

Leaving tearing on the seams

On the bark of my solid being

Uprooting my ankles

As I skip from a cherry branch to another

Always parched, always searching

Tugging on bonds, knitting barren lands together

Till they form a smooth rug of rain

Filling all the air, touching all the cheeks

Reminding us of the lively streams

Entwining all under us, swimming under the skin of life

Everywhere we go they follow, unexhausted

Uniting our wondering feet

Till in loneliness too we are together

Till we are breathing discoveries

Miracles shaped out of pulping springs

Till we find ourselves again and in ourselves

A strength to go further

A wisdom to halt home

Growing things in Farmer’s Kitchen- art and fiction

20 Dec
Farmer's Kitchen By Ivan AllbrightSource: http://www.flickriver.com/photos/maulleigh/4161478770/

Farmer’s Kitchen By Ivan Allbright
Source: http://www.flickriver.com/photos/maulleigh/4161478770/

 

Farmer’s Kitchen by Ivan Allbright. Sometimes also called: Beautiful.

Look at it, isn’t this piece just fascinating?

I could keep staring at the patterns, the colours, the details for forever. If I wasn’t too busy drowning into the expression on the man’s face, of course. Is he sad, tired, lonely, wistful? What is he? What’s the story behind this piece? What’s the story he carries in his heart?

I suppose these questions really show why art is so engaging. It makes you wonder, makes you imagine, makes you consider things that would have not even crossed your mind otherwise. Best art haunts you, it sticks to your mind like a post-it note and reminds you of all the realisations and feelings you experienced when you witnessed a good piece.

This piece definately did that to me. I could not stop wondering about the man. That’s why I wrote his story:

 

Growing things

I never was handsome.

– You wouldn’t make a model, you said when you saw me for the first time, but being a farmer must be a calling to you. Ha, even your nose is like a potato, a hairy and bulky tuber!

I let you say things like that because you  always laughed at them, and your laugh was like a choir of cheerful jingle bells.  How I miss your laugh!  It was the happiest part of you. I wish I could hear it once more, bursting out and bringing these dusty rooms back to life.

I wonder what you would say about me now. Often I imagine you appearing from the rain, standing on my doorstep with smudged make-up and chapped lips, tears running down your face. You would smile and pretend they’re raindrops. You would have a toothbrush in your hand and a backpack.  In my dreams you always look like this, oddly beautiful. In my dreams I look at you with bright lover’s eyes.

I miss you but maybe these kind of dreams should be kept shut away, in my little treasure chest of fantasies.  Because with you, these kind of dreamy scenes of love would only be an illusion. Reality would hit them hard, so hard they would be broken to pieces by your high-pitched shrieks:

“Why on earth are you wearing my old dress? And my apron too?”

“And look at you, you’ve got potato peels stuck all over it!”

“And your hands are all scratchy!”

I’m wearing your dress because once it smelled like you. Just after you had run away. I could smell the cigarette smoke, your sweet-tinted sweat and Chanel’s No. 5. And so I slipped it on, to have you near me. Now it’s lost the smell of you, the softness of your skin. I’m losing you too, the round shape of your face, the wild gestures of your hands.,, I hope this dress can bring them all back. And the potato peels… I’ve been cooking a meal for us. For the past five years. I’ve set the table too. Come in, please! Would you?

Would you? That’s what I wonder every day. Would you love my face now,  would you love it still now that it’s full of deep raisin lines? Would you love my awkward hands that resemble the dry, cracked ground I try to tame? Would you take my hand, hold it gently and not flinch at the touch of my rough, scaly skin? Would you dive into the quarry of my heart, dig out all the sharp stones of misery and grind them into soft sand? Would you?

I will never find answers. I don’t expect to. But I cannot be moved, I cannot forget, I cannot leave like you did.  I’m a work horse on this farm, I stay here faithfully even after everything’s dead. I go about my routines, try to make things grow, I set the table for two, wait for you in vain and then allow the cat to take your seat. The cat meows and looks at me in amusement, spoils the soup with its hairy paws. Oh well, you always disliked soup anyway. Maybe you started to dislike me too, or was it just the solidity of these walls you feared? When the house squeaked and creaked at night, did you fear that our security was falling apart? If I lean into a same wall for too long, it crumbles under my weight, that’s what you always used to say. I have to keep on moving, you mumbled many times. Did you plan your departure already, even then?

I suppose you were right. You leaned into me after all, you got close, so close I could feel the even warmth of your breath and the fast rabbit’s pulse on your wrist. Then you left and I crumbled. I turned into rocks scattered around this house.  I started to carry the colours of beetroot, carrot and potato on my face, blending into the lonely landscape of abandoned vegetable crops. I look like this house more and more every day. I’m empty like this house and my joints creak like the doors that are not opened often enough to let someone in. I’m old, draughty and unhinged like my kitchen. Our kitchen. I’ve become a bit skewed, this house was built sweked and so was our love. Shouldn’t we have known better from the start?

And maybe one day I will fall apart, turn into ash and fire and burn with this house. Or maybe I will become a solid part of these worn floors, one of the blind planks. Then I would find oblivion. But before I do, I want to forgive you. I used to think that the only passion I ever got from you was a passion fruit. You grabbed it once during a fight and threw it at me with blazing eyes. It hit me hard on my lips like a violent kiss. I didn’t mind the bruise, but I hated you for ruining a perfectly good fruit. I loved all things growing, and you laughed at me for this. You used to stand and look in wonder as I tended my garden.

“GROW UP! GROW UP!!”  I shouted at you, during our fights.

Grow up, just grow into something, into anything. Grow so I can love you too. Why did I left that tint of affection unsaid?

Now that it’s too late I understand  that you gave me so much more than one poorly aimed fruit and bruises on my heart. You gave me totally insensible love, the most honest kind of love, the one that doesn’t follow any planned paths. Stubborn kind of love that just comes like a wave and swipes over you, one that doesn’t come early or late or when it’s asked. It just comes and takes you.

And I loved you, you have no idea how much. Despite your poor temper, your chain smoking and the fact you sometimes treated me like a foreign object, I loved you.  Because I remember those other times… the time you snorted juice through your nose because I made you laugh so hard. The time you insisted on making pancakes for me in order to make up for some silly comment, and somehow you managed to set the frying pan on fire. Your cheeks were burning red as you panted and panicked, trying to figure out how to save the pancakes and not cause an inferno. I remember you sliding around the kitchen like a lost ice cube. I came to you, and you melted under my touch. And all was calm again.

And always, as I looked at you, I felt a weir lump swelling inside me, like a sponge that sucked all air out of me. It was just a feeling that never quite translated into words or proposals, but it was a strong feeling. It made me gulp and shiver. It was love, I recognise now. Our  bittersweet love that didn’t make any sense, totally incomprehensible, maybe doomed from the start, but just too beautiful and pitiful to be shooed away. You gave me that love and you forgot to pack it away and take it with you when you left, and for that I’m thankful.  It still lingers here, keeping me company. As I stand in the middle of my fields and look at the light creeping up, stretching its hands above the horizon to push the darkness away, I feel it. Our love, the memory of it mixing with the fresh light of dawn. And look, what’s that? A little growing seedling, how odd. I had forgotten what they look like. But now I remember. They look beautiful. They look like you but funnily, they look like the future too. They look like hope.

Your turn. What does the piece bring to your mind?

While Gaza Weeps

21 Nov

This poem is written as a duet by me and the ever inspiring, beautiful Hastywords. Once again, thank you for your words Hasty. They’re precious to me.

 

Photocredit: http://cmec.org.uk

 

While Gaza Weeps

 

The midnight calls

Tempermental notes

Sighing, resigning

As the spectators watch

 

Raindrops weeping

Raw acid falling

Erasing lives, eroding holes

As the two worlds collide

 

Night grasps at daylight

Greedily eats at time

Layers upon layers collapse

Spanning the spectrums we hide

 

This crumbling shadow play

Sweeps over the castles we build

From the ashes of our history

Sends the petals of dead spinning

 

Lured from their graves

From their departed sorrows

Children giggle, peeking

As ancestors parade on by

 

Their laugh resonates through the bones

It waters the bomb-sites and

Out of them grow

Shining Snowdrops of tomorrow

 

—-

May the people in this world, the people who have known war and suffering, find happiness and peace. I hope that once this world will be a more loving place, and today I want to give you all the love and strenght my little heart can carry.

Because to change this world for better, your heart does not need to be big or old, it does not need to carry the wisdom of the ancient trees. All your heart needs to know is love and how to share that love.

Take care, of yourself and of others in need. Peace!

Give me the address of happiness. Where is it?

3 Nov

Imagine if happiness lives in today. Imagine if all the happiness you will ever be given is the amount you’re feeling right now.

How did that make you feel?

If you’re feeling joyful today, you probably just shrugged your shoulders to the notion that today determines your happiness. ‘It’s all good then.’ But if you’re having particularly miserable, lonely, rainy or gloomy Saturday, you might feel a bit disappoined or angry.

At least, that’s the way I felt when I first read that idea somewhere. I was having one of those days where you swear to yourself that gravity is playing some sick-minded joke on you, pulling you down harder than anyone else.

What?! Are you bloody serious saying that if I feel miserable today, I’ll never get happier? That I’ll never be happy? Do I not deserve happiness?

The outrage above is quite an accurate replica of my feelings back then. First I was angry, then I was angry at myself which made me feel guilty. All the while I was straying further from feeling happy, and I felt like all the inspirational quotes in the world had betrayed me. I felt like they were one of those scam e-mails saying: Give me your PIN-number and I will give you one billion pounds.  And I had fell for it.

Why can I not feel happy? Have I not tried hard enough?

The quote stuck with me, it sat right next to me on my bad days, staring at me when I was burying my face into a tub of Ben & Jerry’s to find cheerfulness.

That quote was the one maths equation you still remember from school, the one that you always sweated over in lessons and that always, always popped up in an exam. Just so you couldnt’ solve it again. Bad luck isn’t it?

No… wait. Maybe it’s not. Just because you couldn’t solve something yesterday doesn’t mean you cannot do it today.

Maybe it didn’t come up to annoy you, but to give you one more chance to realise things. Maybe it’s not the annoying, unsolvable, hair-tearing mystery but an important lesson you have been given to learn. And when you do, and you will, it is a true gift.

I now love the idea that today determines your happiness, because that means you have a choice. You don’t have a choice to change your past, the only choice that is found there is to accept and forgive. But right now, you have a choice, to change your tomorrow.

So, if you knew for sure, that what you feel right now affects  your feelings tomorrow… what would you choose? Would you try and find happiness? If yes, then you will find it. If not now, then tomorrow.

If you choose it now, you will not be miserable. If you choose to trust happiness even in your worst moments, it will wait for you to find it again, like a loayl friend. Happiness will not abandon you.

Photocredit: 9images.blogspot.com

 

Wishing you a better today, and a better tomorrow!