Tuesday, 25 January 2022

Fruit salad

 



Fruit salad 


This has been a recurrent theme for humans for centuries, I am sure. 
What is the meaning of life, why am I here, what is the purpose, blah blah blah. 
No tiger or lion ever asked itself this. At least not that I know of. 
Why? Because they are too busy living, earning their keep within the food chain and being tigers and lions. They are in a community that accepts and loves them, and they are content. At least they seem it. Their life consists of finding food, resting and procreating. And that is their life, that is their purpose. 
I don’t think humans are any different. Our lives come down to the same basic needs and facts, if you reduce us to our most common denominator. We are not special. We hunger for food and sex, and kids. And if you don’t want kids, you can’t tell me that you do not seek meaning in the past, in archaeology or history or buildings and cultures. You seek meaning because that is what we are built for. 
And it is therefore impossible to escape the feeling that our children are the be all and end all of our existence. Because they probably are. Our legacy of sorts. 
Does it therefore follow that that pressure must fall on their shoulders? That they must succeed where we have failed or that they must achieve where we have not. Or that they must find happiness where we have not?
What happens if you have a child whose biggest wish is to cook for their husband, have dinner on time and serve them humbly and happily? Does that make that child a lesser being? Do we place expectations on our kids that are unrealistic? I don’t know. I try not to. And maybe through that process, they feel even more pressure. 
I struggle to let go of the constant guilt and feeling of responsibility for their decisions or lack thereof. 
At the end of the day, the only thing I can do is make my own decisions. 
Easier said than done. 
Having spent more than 20 years of my life living for others, and catering for other people’s needs, it makes it very difficult to actually decide what it is I want for the remainder of my days. 
I think I just want peace. Peace within and r=without. 
I want to be free of guilt. I want to be full of love and compassion and place hate where it belongs, and dissipates with its memories. 
I want to feel like I have done my best at everything, and have left no stone unturned when it comes to self actualization and growth. 
I want to feel humble, and realise that no one is perfect, and I can never be. 
More than anything, I would like my water ripple to have an effect. To be a drop in a ocean where a drop falls and creates a tsunami in years to come. I want to be a drop that matters. 
I want to battle my demons face to face, no weapons. Just them and me. And end my life at a place and time where I feel satisfied with my efforts. That is all. A bit of earthly satisfaction along the way, a bit of romance here and there, friendship and love, and furry animals that stink up my life. A bit of mathematical genius would have been nice, but that’s a bit late for me, I think. I’ll have to just satisfy myself with random fruit salad potty mouth. 


Tuesday, 29 June 2021

Winged

 If my wings were not tethered,

My freedom would not be this limited.
If my wings were not tethered,
I would be a winged marvel.
Ocean, desert, and jungle canopy
Would be no stranger to me.
If my wings were not this heavy,
I would be a stranger.
The bird that migrates every winter.
Never ceasing.

If my wings had not been clipped
By time.
De-beaked by the battery of my destiny.
De-clawed by the infinite risk I did not take.
If my wings were not clipped,

The wind would be my wisdom.
The sand would never scald my feet.
Divinity diminished.
Freedom averted.
Error demoted.
Potential abused.
Confidence aborted.
I would not roam where anyone has trodden.
I would not follow.
I would dissipate,
Disolve everywhere.

If my wings were not tethered,
I would be the kite
Taken up to the stars
And never returned.
If my wings were not sodden
By wet rains of solitude.
Sodden by regret not yet understood.
Clipped like the words left unspoken,
By the compass that points true lost.

If I had never grown wings
I would be forgotten.
Oblivious to the storm that threatens to whip me ahead in time.

If you could feel the flutter of these yet virgin wings
abandoned in the past
and never returned.
Can you be certain that one day
The vibrations
Will ring in your mind
And deliver you to the true path?

If my wings had not atrophied,
held down by assumptions,
pilfered by misery and abandoned in assent

I would be soaring above
And never return.

Return to me falcon God.
Winged avenger,
storm crier,
savage singer,
consoling prayer.

Allow the wingspan.

Just the rest of my existence.
Allow me to flee,
jump off that edge.
Take off into darkness,
and lose my rudder in the night.
I will be the albatross
no shadows will pursue.
No brilliant sun will illuminate,
and I will die.
But my wings will be stretched out wide.

Mistakes, missteps and assets

 We all make so many mistakes in life. Miscalculations in finances, relationships, job choices and even careers. We stuff up in parenting an...