Reflection

“Model looking in the mirror of fashion designer Molineux, Paris” ©1934 Alfred Eisenstaedt.

Each day I am greeted by the mirror across from my bed. I am forced to look at myself overtime I arise. With sleep still in my eyes, I ask “what will this day bring me?”

A Day is quantified as a passage of time. 24 hours, a 9 to 5, with maybe some television and wine sprinkled in, or a holiday.

The days ahead of me are more valuable than any currency I can think of.

I almost never had days to look forward to.

It is a privilege to wake up everyday.

My body was on the edge of death.

Now…I am on the edge of life. I am holding on by my nails, scratching, and trying to keep myself up, and do more with my life than merely survive it.

I wake up and see my reflection in that mirror. I wake up looking into eyes, strongly sad.

My reflection is better through others’ eyes, when I make jokes, laugh and forget the past.

When it’s just me and that mirror though, I truly see myself, no filters. The image reflected turns inward. It infiltrates my bodily vessel, projecting, illuminating and, burrowing into my soul and being.

I see pain, an unwelcome squatter.

I see false love, a frequent and unexpected visitor.

Hurt.

I relive the past mistakes I cannot change, yet haunt me still.

I look at myself and can only see a dejected and dismal soul. At these times I am enslaved by my inner thoughts and the voices that tell me I am not good enough and never will be.

But, when the sun shines through my window and my reflection ceases to cast clouds on my disposition, I am wistful. I am able to renew my belief in growth and hope.

I have hated that person I see in the mirror.

I’m learning to understand her, comfort, and love her. If I have to wake up with her everyday, I should accept her with her flaws and her gifts. There is a beauty within her which is eclipsed. It shines. It might be dim now, but it is there and one day it will be reflected back in the image of a brilliant smile and brighter eyes.

Ask Yourself Who You Are

Image: unknown

Reality is looking in the mirror.

Reality is seeing who you really are.

Reality is fitting in the box society has formed for you.

I try and fight that box.

The box is rigid, fixed, and immovable.

To exist, survive and thrive in this box is our daily struggle.

I just want to be who I am.

I don’t want labels.

I don’t want judgement.

I am just trying to figure out who I am.

How dare some stranger define who I am before I can even define myself?

Maybe I have no definition?

Maybe I do not belong in a box?

Maybe I deserve to be free and be the person I want to be; A person with no judgement and no definition is who I was born to be.

My flaws are thrust upon me. My flaws are defined for me.

The color of my skin is not a flaw.

My flaw is not my skin.

My skin shines with the sun, like copper.

I let my sun kissed skin and natural hair show.

I am me and I was born to be me. I am a child of the God that resides in all of us.

I don’t live for others’ validations.

I love who I am. I love who I am because of others and despite of others.

We are told to change.

I am not afraid of change, but I would rather that change be a growth.

Change is inevitable. Growth is suggestible.

We cannot change our souls with a name brand.

We cannot change our intellect under the knife.

We are who we are.

We can only grow to be a better us.

Our gold is us being better.

Be better for you. There is no better reason to grow.

Do it for you!

Be you!

Be your true self!

Be your dreams!

None of us choose our life, nor our place in life.

I can’t help but think if I don’t make the best of my life, this happenstance which is my life will just be a waste.

I thank my Mother for not having a headache that night or else I wouldn’t be here.

The odds of our existence is astronomical.

However random we might be, we’re here.

What do we want to do with this miracle that is us?

In my few years on this Earth I have learned plenty and look forward to learning much more.

With each breath I breathe, the only obligation I feel to my life is to leave this world a better place than the one I was born into.

On The Moment

Some moments you wish would last forever. In those moments everything seems to make sense, a bliss ignorance could never know to exist.

To the lake’s edge we walked hand in hand, sun setting at our backs. I refused to look at the sun, glowing orange and speedily sinking towards the horizon, closer to the end of the day, the end of the moment.

The moment, like the waves breaking against the shore, delicate, fragile.

Children played all around, splashing through the water, laughing in joyful happiness.

We sat by the water’s edge, his head resting on my lap. I looked out over the lake, past the point where water and sky became one.

All was blue.

All was serene.

All was perfect.

We sat in comfortable silence, both knowing our moment was fleeting. His head grew heavy, my backside fell asleep, and my legs locked up, yet I remained in that spot, blanketing myself in that silence.

For when we cease to talk, we start to feel. We sat, wrapped in eachother’s energy, where we both wished to remain.

Even after we made our way back, into twilight, and away from our perfect moment, even long after the sun sadly set, that moment will forever be engrained in my memory.

Perhaps, moments do last forever. Not transient but transitory, moments transform into memories. These memories remain with us, molding us, allowing us to reach back and pull them out when life gets too much. Moments are not meant to be cursed nor forsaken, but embraced.

Some feel as if the present is all we have. Yet, doesn’t our past lead us to our present? If we didn’t have past moments, those ones we wished would never cease, would the present make any sense? How often do we hide in those memories when our present situation confuses us? Those moments always come back to us, never truly ending, giving us promise for the future.

Moments last forever, its just our choice to remember and cherish them.

Lesson On Forgiveness

Forgiveness like all things starts from within. We must forgive ourselves, before we can forgive others. This can be more difficult than forgiving our greatest of foes. Yet, if we cannot forgive ourselves, our forgiveness of others is fleeting.

We excuse.

We justify.

We redirect.

We blame.

We hold grudges.

This is our way of “dealing”. To merely deal is not enough. To understand, to learn, and to grow is the way to full connection with the Self.

We make ourselves vulnerable when we choose to forgive ourselves. Vulnerability can be seen as a weakness. Why is this so, when deep down we all wish to be held close, to be embraced, to be rocked into peace and told that everything will be alright? What is wrong with admitting this yearning?

It is he who refuses to fathom his vulnerability that cannot forgive his weaknesses.

For how can he forgive his weaknesses if he cannot recognize them?

We believe that others can see our weaknesses. Others can use them. Others can display them to others. We can take this power away if we recognize, accept and forgive these same weaknesses that have been used against us.

Forgiveness seems complex because of all that comes from it.

If one cannot forgive, he cannot love.

If one cannot love, he cannot empathize.

If one cannot empathize, where does that leave him?

Isolated and forced to confront all he has chosen to forget.

Our world’s conflicts are a reflection of ourselves. The inner turmoil that we experience within is manifested in our environment. We can blame the state of our world on a lack of love or we can change it, starting with forgiving ourselves.

We seek forgiveness in many forms, in a smile or in a touch. That same joy and that same embrace can be found within. We have the ability to shed our troubles with our tears, to shed our hatred with our love and to shed our guilt with our forgiveness.

On a bright Summer’s day when the sun shines in all its magnificence, we still seek the shade. For the sun, in all of its beauty, can also overwhelm.

The disorder of the world belies its true beauty. People, nature, the little miracles like the dawn, the breath that flows through each of us, the music we hear with each footstep, the synchronicity of all that surrounds and encompasses us, this is the beauty of the Universe, the beauty within All. It should not be disregarded, but embraced.

When we finally see the light, in all its wonder and awe, we must remember not to seek the shadow because we fear of what this light chooses to illuminate.

Step towards the light, not in Death, but in Life.

Loving others is the test we must face everyday and in every moment.

We must love those whom we do not know.

We must love those whom are close to us and that shape us.

We must love those whom we feel have hurt us.

Above all others, we must love ourselves. When we feel love within, the love we express towards everyone will come easily, naturally flowing in our every movement.

We find love in tears just like we find it in a rain drop, both nourish.

We find love in a gaze just like we find it in a Sun ray, both awaken.

We find love in a touch just like we find it in a sand grain, both are one of much more.

We find love in a sigh just like we find in it in a wind gust, both are breath and thus, Life.

Forgiveness and Love walk hand in hand with each another, always linked and never should be separated. They walk alongside Us, down the path we all share. One cannot live without the other, just like we cannot thrive without the breath in our lungs nor survive without the blood in our veins.

Lesson On Sadness

Photo By: Rod Walker

You came to me, with blood and tears in your eyes.

My Child, in all your stubbornness, you came to me. Your head hanging down and your feet wading in the pool of your own sorrows, you still came to me.

“Look up, my Child.” You’re sense, red and yearning, looked towards me, willful, yet wounded and hurt.

I see you. I see you, beautiful and shining, digging your toes in the warm grains of sand, dancing with the pure rays of sunlight, and swaying to the gentle wind, one with me and one with all. Such a beautiful child you are, capable of the most profound expressions.

I know sometimes you can’t speak of the things you feel, those nameless urges you can’t ignore. You don’t have to say one word.

Sing, dance, write, paint.

Get it out there.

Not for the world to see, but for you to see and for you to know.

Get YOU out there in the world, this physical world, this world of connectivity and embrace.

Your touch, your feel, your emotion. You should express that, instead of trying to contain so much.

Why should we suppress what comes naturally to us? Sadness is natural, yet suppressed.

Am I to also control my love just as I am told to control my sadness?

Shall I pretend not to be angry, just in the name of politeness?

Shall I hold back the tears? Like perspiration of the soul, tears should be ranked among the blood, the oil, the saliva, and the sweat as a product of the body. One is not taught to hinder the production of the others. Still, the body’s tears are taught to be welled up, to be choked up, and to be held back.

Your body wishes to rid itself, rid itself of your pain, your hurt, your confusion, and your frustration.

All must released.

Tears should be allowed to cleanse our past wrongs and regrets.

Cry if you must. Cry if you will.

Cry for a lost friend.

Cry for a lost soul.

Cry for a lost day.

Cry for a lost moment.

Cry for a lost idea.

Cry for a lost love.

Cry until you rid yourself of that feeling that chokes you up in the the bottom of your throat, the one that wells up on the insides of your eyes and pinches at the bridge of your nose, that feeling. Cry until that is gone. Until you free yourself of that, the sadness will always remain behind your gaze, waiting to flood over the barricades you have built.

The Past is a Shadow

Photo By Samantha West

The past is more assessable now than ever.

People from the past. Places from the past. Pictures from the past.

These relics all have their rightful place. In the past is where they reside and in the past I wish them to remain.

If the past can be easily revisited but not easily revised, can anything be gained from holding onto it?

I come to you with the world etched heavily on my face. Without moving your lips, you invite me to speak. “Somethings I just don’t want to remember,” I say. “I was a different person back then.”

You spare me your smile for you read my anguish, written so clearly, “Not different, just changed.”

“That was not me!” I say, volume rising and blood hot. “Can’t you see it? I am not that person.”

We lock eyes and you speak to me, all of me. “That person you were will always be a part of you and there is no running from that.”

I berate, “What is the point of all this change if the past is still lurking in the shadows?”

You ignore my irate state. Your curiosity, peeked. “Lurking you say. Why must your past lurk? It is not out to get you, nor to revert you back.”

“You speak as if the past is meant to serve me well. I Can’t see how.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

The pressure that had been building inside of me, ceased.

You’re right, I won’t see it. I refused to see the past as anything useful. I wished to forget it, to leave it behind. I wished to delete any reminder and be born anew, fresh, green.

Yet, you tell me this is impossible. The past will always be with me. As a reminder? As a revealer? As a test? I can’t say. Not because I won’t, but because I don’t know.

You finally let a smile slip. My breathing has slowed and I say, “There is no good. There is no bad.”

Your grin widens, “This you know.”

I repeat back your words of wisdom, calmly, “There is only what we learn.” You nod. “My reluctance to accept the past is born from my deeming it bad. This I now know.”

“You learn fast. The person I see in front of me will soon be your shadow peering from over your shoulder. I only ask that you not cast her aside completely, for I have grown fond of her.”

I laugh. “She has grown fond of you as well. Somewhere in between wisdom and humility you lie, at peace and I wish to meet you there one day soon.”

My past cannot be changed, altered or amended. Yet there it is, with me, more than a reminder, but a tool. A tool I can use to understand the present and the future. For all is an endless cycle.

All the World’s a Ballet and all the Men and Women Merely Dancers

It has been nearly a year since I came to this strange city.

One year of many steps and missteps.

Somewhere in all of my aimless stumblings I fell. There I lie, unable to do anything but nurse my wound, damn my clumsiness and blame it on the difficult choreography. I’d turned my head towards the pit, to the orchestra.

The orchestra, off time and off key.

As I lie on the unforgiving wooden stage, I felt the spotlight dimming but, the score was starting its crescendo. It was strange in its unfamiliarity yet I was pulled up and into the enticing music. As I rose the spotlight followed suit, shining my way across that once not so forgiving stage. I was dancing to the music, my first steps in tune with the rhythm.

No longer forcing it but listening to it and hearing it more clearly than ever.

Once you realize that you’ve done all of this before, life becomes quite simple.

“What of society?” You might ask. “Aren’t they to blame for the corrupting of the people? Their money lust and insatiable corporate greed will continue at the detriment of the people!”

I would nod and say slowly, “Perhaps, but every society and people have had their time of prosperity.” I would tilt my head and look towards your soul and ask from you, “Have they not?”

“What about the Middle East?” you may ask, “They seem to have always been in unrest.”

I’d smile and shake my head, “You assume they did not have their time of great wealth and prosperity. For if you change your perception you change your illusion.”

You would blink and remain silent, looking to me for the next verse, an explanation to my seemingly pontifical statement. Instead, I move forward.

I’d remind you of the Cradle of Civilization, the first recorded civilization in history, Mesopotamia.

You would bring up your knowledge of Sumerians and depending on how far you swayed you might even bring up the Anunnaki

I would not disagree and continue to smile, my curious student. I would nearly nod my head and say, ‘Earlier civilizations, earlier Earths and possibly earlier universes can be not only pondered but known.”

We are not the first and we will not be the last. Just one note in an eternal rhapsody.

What is to be pondered is how long we shall dance this eternal promenade of familiar souls conversing, again and again, over the lifetimes, never loosing step with the rhythm of the perfect and divine universe. Simple and effortlessly.