Every attempt I’ve made to answer the question of purpose results in an encounter with the term “Options.” We live the larger part of our lives seeking resources, be they in the form of time, money or education, so that in the end we are able to increase our options so that we can do whatever we want whenever we want, or at least, most of our time. The problem, however, is that we end up seeking more and more options, not knowing when to stop, not ever knowing whether we should stop so that eventually, we die having never really exercised the options we sought after and got. Or in the words of Dalai, we die having never really lived.
I am AFRAID,
I am so afraid I can barely move,
I am afraid of my possibilities,
Of my potential,
I am afraid of what I am become,
Of what I can be,
I am afraid of what I could have been
I am deeply afraid,
Of my own vulnerability to this deep-seated fear,
I am even more afraid because I am aware of this fear,
I fear it will cripple me,
Or worse, It will encourage me,
I am afraid that fear will motivate me,
And I am full of fear because it has
I am afraid,
Of my dreams,
Of my plans,
I am afraid of my failures,
And mistakes that could kill,
I am so afraid of the deep gorges I could fall into,
Or the angry oceans that could drown me.
I am afraid,
Of the voices,
The soft, calm voices inside,
And, sometimes, the loud threatening voices,
Of Chaos because it almost always wins,
I am afraid this fear might never end.
To whoever asks who you are,
Tell them you are the truth,
That you are the hopes and dreams of generations,
A holder of the key to the future,
And the keeper of the wisdom of the past,
Tell them you are the queen mother,
The supreme protector of life,
That you are nature’s pillar
Tell them that you are love,
That you radiate compassion,
And that you are the smile that lights up days,
Tell them you are the hug that warms their hearts
The giver of life and the nurturer
Tell them you are Wangari Maathai,
The Protector of the earth and its green,
Tell them you are the child whose hopes are pure,
And whose dreams remain unbound,
Tell them you are Mandela,
The one whose life is without hate or prejudice,
Tell them you are a human being,
One deserving of the title Mother
Via Man Wale’s Random
(in loving memory of the greatest mom, mine :-D)
So, the other day I was going through this old note book I used to own before dust took over and there is a piece I found that I thought I should share here for you, dear reader. I hasten to add that it is also worth noting that on the first page of the note book are words I barely recall writing but which, as it seems, serves to lure one into seeking to know the almost-odious contents of the book. I will quote them for your curiosity’s sake if not for your fancy:
“Herein lies the truths, half-truths and colored lies a man in love with his pen whispers to himself in his many conversations with his book.”
Then on the page after was this short piece:
“Of all, it has almost become second nature for me to admire the courage of those who try. I revere even more, the strength of those who hold on a while longer when the climb is too steep, and the journey too torturous. It then follows that it has become only fair to seek to drink from the deep cups of those whom life has administered so immense wisdom that they can, without strain, recognize when it is time time to let go, and when it is prudent to stop trying; to stop holding on a while longer.”
For some reason, reading this felt like reading some version of the famous Serenity prayer.
PS: Forgive my title, I could not find a more suitable one in its place.:-D
Via Man Wale’s Reminisces
It is in knowing what we can focus on that we begin to seek the most fulfilling of paths we can walk. It is in being aware of the priorities that we can start making meaningful adjustments to what we envision, and to what we chose to actively pursue: it is in an attempt to understand this that questions are asked; leading questions whose answers we may or may not know but whose effect on provoking thought far surpasses subtle observance of societal demands and standards which have for far too long been taken as the basic way of meaningful living; that life that is, since conception, projected and painlessly left unimagined, only lived as though it were off some divine script, unquestioned, only accepted in a manner that implies that going the other way is an act of rebellion, or as some sort of declaration of allegiance to destruction, to fatalism.
So here goes:
Is it the sacrifices I make?
The challenges I face?
Or is it the small achievements I lay claim to?
Is it the paths I walk?
Or the mistakes I make each passing moon?
Is it the bridges I build? Or perhaps those I burn?
Is it the choices I make?
Or the opportunities I defiantly refuse to take?
Is it the beliefs I willfully submit myself to?
Is it my tribe? Race? Gender?
What really matters?
Is it the fondness I have for those I love?
Or the manner in which I treat the helpless strangers I come across?
Is it the lies I tell because I think they are white?
Or the truths I withhold to protect those that deserve to know?
Those that I hide even from myself?
is it the peace I find in meditation?
Or is it the solace so abundant in my quiet contemplation?
Is it the heights we overcome?
Or the valleys of life that we have to endure?
Is it the certificates?
Or the knowledge it purports to represent?
Is it not the strength we muster to overcome the more?
Is it not the compassion we must nurture?
Is it not the hope we must keep alive?
Is it not the happiness we share?
The life we live and protect?
Is it not the environment in which we dwell in?
Or perhaps it is humanity itself.
When I ask what matters and I do not get the answer, I wonder if the question should be,
Should anything matter?
Via Man Wale’s Musings
There is more to life than just physical and mental health. There is more to life than pounds of flesh and blood. There is more to life than a circulation of oxygen and response to stimuli. There is more, there has to be.
There is satisfaction, there is hope, there is despair, and uncertainty. There is ignorance, lots of it, and bits of knowledge, small bits of discoveries that still plunge us into amazement. There is thirst; there is that void that no physical material satisfies. There is that hunger that no fruit or nuts ever satisfy, that curiosity that engulfs us, keeps us searching. But there is more to life than just searching, or even finding. There is a lot more in searching and not finding.
There is love, the strongest of them all even in its weakest form. There is love that dwells even in the darkest of hearts. There is love that we must share, that drowns us at times, carries us to depths unimaginable, that threatens to choke us when we scream, but gives life when we drink from its cups. There is love that gives meaning to our existence, that sometimes, however meaningless, leaves us feeling lost in multitudes. There is love whose seed may be the fig that grows into compassion. It blooms in the springs and its flowers turn rosy.
There is more than just silent wonder: there are stories to be told, and lessons to be learned. There are stories whose essence is life, whose bones are vital to the force of life. There are stories whose flesh is dessert for the soul, which flavors life itself. There are stories without which we are starved, whose existence is anchored on ours.
Indeed, there is more! There is abundance!
Via Man Wale’s Random Musings
What’s in a name?
To want to be called our own
To hope to remain eternally unforgotten
To dwell in the hearts of those with whom we share
To keep the hopes of the hopeless alight
To share in the sufferings of those in need
The tunnel of life whose end remains unseen
So What’s in a name?
The introduction to a past we star
The means by which we express polite disinterest
The golden image we paint for a society uncaring
The label we use in place of words unfathomable!
The name is the word for the face we own.
“ What’s in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” :- William Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet.