Sugar in my bowl

I’ve just made myself a cup of tea. Raspberry flavored.
My office ran out of sugar and I had to borrow from my friend downstairs. I’ve always been fascinated with that word “borrow”. According to my knowledge, education and Google – of course – to borrow means: to take and use (something belonging to someone else) with the intention of returning it. How then do I intend on returning sugar I’ve already used?
Funny stuff really.

Still on borrowing. There is this idea of living on borrowed time. I am so aware of this, that sometimes I have to catch myself and re-wire my brain and shift from it. I understand that it is important to know this. That it helps us to be more present, to be more appreciative of time. I’m in no way arguing that this is not. I am however, weary of over exercising it. I find that with this constant knowledge and with it popping in at the times you feel the most alive and have a rush of life flowing through your veins!!!! you sort of leave that happy moment are reminded of how impermanent it all is. I also find that it is in those times that I remember, which turns into missing, those I have lost – permanently. I practice gratitude, on all levels. I practice it by always counting the blessings in every experience. Observing and applying the fundamentals of balance. How with every evil there’s good. And so on. So whenever the feeling of loss attempts to consume me – I say attempt because that’s all it can ever do really. It will NEVER consume me. It tried. It failed. My borrowed time doesn’t allow for such *insert fist in the air here* – I let it do its thing. I let myself be transported through the emotions associated with whatever loss it is that has come to me. I feel like I should make an example. So I will: the most recent is my friend, and that is always at the top of the list. Especially now, with all the changes happening in my life. My encounters with people. My mood swings. My euphoria. My challenges and triumphs. I always want to tell her. I want to pick up the phone and tell her “It is really happening. I can’t believe it. I am so happy. I am scared. I want it so bad. OMG OMG OMG” Yes, with all those theatrics, she got them. LOL!
How do I find the balance for this? I recall the great times. How I was afforded an opportunity to be understood on this level. How I HAD for sure, someone who accepted me just as I am. Someone who didn’t need to make up excuses for going hard for me.

I was borrowed time with her. And had to, in a sense, return her. 🙂
But for years, many years, I had Sugar in my bowl.

So, here is to not only understanding the impermanence of it all but to embracing it fully.
And to gratitude and the ability to recognize moments worthy thereof. Big or small.
And most of all, to being loved. Enough. Over and Over and Over again.

New relationship

So. I’ve been meaning to blog more and open up more. On things I like, things on my mind and everything in between. I will post a poem here and there, it has been a while and I am probably out of practice – but surely, something will give. Okay Hopefully more than surely!
I will, under no circumstances expose anyone on here. Not directly of course. 😛
I am not oblivious to the fact that people do and will catch feelings. But I will not let that affect this blog. This space is intended to those who are like-minded. Those are in pursuit of things that set their souls on fire. Like I am.
I will not make time for pettiness, mediocrity and disrespect on this space.

We are all on a journey. We are all fighting one battle or another. Kindness goes a long way, both given and received. Some of us have learnt to play well with our demons while the rest of us are still fighting them.

This will be our new relationship. I will write, you will read and hopefully relate or understand on the same level or at least with some re – cognition . I am very spirited and passionate. And I am, thanks to my mother, overly protective of my space and those that I hold dear to my heart. And this blog should be treated and received that way.
This is starting to sound like a contract of some sort. 🙂 This is that passion I mentioned. I don’t want any blurred lines. And I feel (yes, I am a feeler) that it is best I lay it out before we go anywhere.

I will be sharing things I have read, learnt, heard and appreciate on this platform. I am not much of a sugarcoater and I appreciate being handled and met with the same realness. So I will be blunt. Sensitive, but frank. Harming – of others and of myself – is NOT my intention. So I will not do it. And most importantly: this is not my journal. It is just a place I will use to express some of my views. On being. How you interpret that is entirely up to you and how you want this relationship to work. I’ve said my piece 🙂 .

To many more posted thoughts. Opinions. Fire. And pure realness.

Love, Light and Everything In Between
XO

 

“Woke”

I know you’ve heard, said and read this before:

Life is tricky.

Is it? Or are we just not present enough?
I’ll get into more detail:
I have found that being present is not a foreign concept. Or even ONLY for a special kind of people. Yes we have to be conscious of it. We have to be conscious. We have to observe ourselves and our surroundings and our position in the universe. Being in the moment, in the now. This is what my peers now refer to as being “woke” – being awake to what is. Being awake to the TRUE reality of what is.

I find that it is the moments when I am not fully present that I am caught off-guard.
When I exist instead of being alert and aware of what is happening to and around me, things (mostly negative) affect me easier and quicker. It’s easy to get a reaction out of me when I am not in tune/ balance. When I am not observing myself and my surroundings.
A good example, for me anyways, is when having a conversation with a loved one; If I don’t strip them of all that I know them to be and the things that make them tick, I will easily discard what they are saying and take comfort in “she’s that person”. Whereas, If I gave them a chance as another being, and I will stretch this a little farther and say as a “stranger” I would consciously and deliberately grant them the understanding that they need. But by listening to answer / reply instead of to comprehend  and fully take in what they are saying – I distort their message. Sure, I will sometimes need to understand the person they are in order to get their message, but this should in no way cripple them. Being woke empowers me to apply the necessary amount of “handling” for a particular person. But a fresh and unbiased set of ears is possibly one of the greatest gifts we afford anyone that has a message for us. Yes?

Taking cognizance of the fact that we do not approach things and issues the same way allows for the right amount of sensitivity to be practiced and applied. Then perhaps our messages will be relayed and received as intended.

I hope this resonates with you. It came from an argument that should have never happened. I was just too quick to react and my defense was on overdrive. I, as I’ve been told on many occasions, “POPPED OFF” *turns crimson*
We Live and We Learn.

XOXO

 

Mine.

“you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love…” – Warsan Shire

This has been ringing in my head for a while now.

I want something to call my own.
I want something that is all mine.
I want something that I never have to worry about losing.
I want something that can never be taken from me.
I want something permanent.

I’ve never had anything that is any of those things.
And this might be why I want it all so bad.
No one wants to lose. No one wants things that can be taken away no matter how much one fights to keep them.
Fighting – another thing, I feel it’s all fair and well to fight for what you want.
I’m just not for losing oneself in the process. I will fight for what wants me, just to make that clear.

I’m at a point in my life where I believe that anything meant for me will always find its way to me. The soldier in me still wants to fight and hold on, but the warrior always snaps me back to reality and reminds me to surrender and LET GO OF THAT WHICH DOES NOT SERVE ME; Worry, stress and panic and all that negative shit.

But still…

I want something that is all mine.

 

It all gets better with time.

I’ve always thought it ridiculous to say time heals all wounds.
I mean, what is it that time can do to heal and make things better?
Time is just that thing that passes. Right?
That thing that we measure our existence with. Right?

I don’t know.

Here’s what I do know. I know that we are not immune to pain. I know that acting strong while you are breaking inside does no one any good. I know that everyone should grieve and heal as best as they know how. I know that with time comes better lessons.
I know that with age, we are able to deal with things and handle things better.

I was 11 when I lost my older brother.It was sudden and it has taken me almost all my life to come to terms with. But guess what has helped me to heal? Time. That thing that passes. That thing that keeps on moving forward and never ever stops not for your pain or even your joy.

With every passing moment you come to terms with the reality of things.
You find comfort in the permanency of it all. How once a loved one passes on, you will never see them again. You understand the importance of being true about your feelings with and to those you care about the most. You heal at your own pace.

I lost a dear friend a week ago. I feel that this will be the easiest loss I will ever had to deal with. Not because she was not blood- but simply because she gave me time. She gave me her time. I got to make sure she knows exactly how I feel about her. She knew me as an adult. As an adult who is very vocal. I love her and she knows it. I hadn’t had a proper conversation with her in a few weeks and that will forever hurt. I will always kick myself for not squashing our tiff quicker – as I had done a million times before.

I will miss her. But I know I am already healing. I understand things better now. I think she got the best love I could give to a friend. And that’s where my comfort lies.

I’ll explain this process next time.

But for now… I am at peace with my friend’s passing. And I know she appreciates that.

 

 

 

Maybe i’m a fool

Oh my, my this fantasy took me away

Back to life reality has more to take

My poor pride she feels so hurt and so betrayed It’s alright you’ll never feel my love again Silly me, silly me, how could I, how could I, fall in love, fall in love, silly girl, heh, ey, heh!

Silly me, silly me, how could I, how could I, fall in love, fall in love, silly girl, heh, ey, heh!

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndandithi uyandithanda

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndandithi uyazifela

*Maybe i’m a fool. I thought you loved me. Maybe i’m a fool. I thought you’d die for me*

Ndak’thanda wedwa

Ndis’fela ndedwa

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndisis’bhanxa

Ndak’thanda wedwa

Ndis’fela ndedwa

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndisis’bhanxa

*I’m the only one that would die for you. Maybe i’m a fool.*

In my mind I thought we had it going on

What a lie, I guess your feelings weren’t too strong Silly me, silly me, how could I, how could I, fall in love, fall in love, silly girl, heh, ey, heh!

Silly me, silly me, how could I, how could I, fall in love, fall in love, silly girl, heh, ey, heh!

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndandithi uyandithanda

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndandithi uyazifela

Ndak’thanda wedwa

Ndis’fela ndedwa

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndisis’bhanxa

Ndak’thanda wedwa

Ndis’fela ndedwa

Inoba ndisis’bhanxa

Ndisis’bhanxa

Is’bhanxa ke mna

Ndisis’bhanxa ke mna

Ndisis’bhanxa ke mna

Ndisis’bhanxa ke mna

When a pen is filled with ink from the heart…

Excuses For Why We Failed At Love
by Warsan Shire

I’m lonely so I do lonely things
Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same.
You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood.
I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home.
You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave.
I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember.
I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless.
It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth.
I couldn’t love you, you were a small war.
We covered the smell of loss with jokes.
I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents.
You made the nomad in me build a house and stay.
I’m not a dog.
We were trying to prove our blood wrong.
I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things.
Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother.
No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot.
He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me.
You were too cruel to love for a long time.
It just didn’t work out.
My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back.
I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth.
I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home.
The women in my family die waiting.
Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you.
I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me.
You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick.
He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.”
His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile
We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love.
Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you.
I’m a lover without a lover.
I’m lovely and lonely.
I belong deeply to myself .

Heart Fishing…

So like…

I heard my heart crack.

I heard it in my ears.

It was those light or easy on the ears kind of cracks…

This was a loud crack.

You must have some kind of super power.

I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.

My heart is right where God placed it, behind my ribs.

Protected from a lot of things.

But not from you I guess.

With you it was different.

You had access you see…

It all started with that 1st kiss.

I remember feeling that tongue move in my mouth.

I remember the butterflies that followed.

Little did I know that those were warning signs. Not butterflies.

See, I realise now that you were fishing. For my heart.

Your tongue was the bait.

You sent your tongue for my heart.

And I didn’t see it coming.

Boy did I miss it!

So I let you have access to my heart directly and you cracked it.

Broke it.

My heart.

i wasn’t ready

I wasn’t ready to see you.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her while I was there.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her while I was there trying to be okay.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her while I was trying to be okay and moving on with my life.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her while I was there trying to be okay and go on with my life and forget about you.
I wasn’t ready to see you with her while I was there trying to be okay and go on with my life and forget about you and the way my heart beats whenever I see you.
I wasn’t ready.
Those butterflies I’d get whenever I saw you turned into palpitations as I struggled to breathe and keep composure.
When I saw you I knew I wasn’t ready to see you.
I knew I wasn’t ready to face this.
Knowing I’m not ready. Knowing I haven’t healed or gotten over what happened between us.
Yes I said I’d left the bitterness in somebody else’s cup, but seeing you has crept up like poison I thought I’d put in someone else’s glass. This resentment is so far beyond me.
I hate that I’m hurting. I hate that I had to pretend I’m okay just to carry on and not make it uncomfortable for those I came with.
I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready to see you.
I wasn’t ready to breathe the same air as you.
I just wasn’t ready.