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The Random Post: Serenity

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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

What Matters, Really?

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:

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What matters?

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!


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?


What’s in a name?
The Desire;
To want to be called our own
The Dream;
To hope to remain eternally unforgotten
The Love;
To dwell in the hearts of those with whom we share
The Flame;
To keep the hopes of the hopeless alight
The Compassion;
To share in the sufferings of those in need
The Uncertainty;
The tunnel of life whose end remains unseen

So What’s in a name?
The History;
The introduction to a past we star
The Bias;
The means by which we express polite disinterest
The Reputation;
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.

A World Reborn.


The world is in want of more love. Humanity cries for compassion, without which it eventually wilts like the flower plucked. Society starves because it has been denied the unity that nourishes it. And Communities are weakened for the meaningful relationships that formed its tendons have long been ripped.

Why, I pray, do we chose to be indifferent to our very own needs? Is it because our cares have deserted us? Or that our  souls, too, have long dried? And our desires irredeemably crippled? Is it because we are too involved in seeking instant gratification that we chose ignore the farms watered by patience? Whose harvest is a world reborn? Whose soil is society reformed? Or maybe its just the way it should be; chaotic yet still a home we love. Our own peculiarity certainly is refreshing. Almost horrifying yet still, comforting.

Via Man Wale’s Random Musings

The Future is not Our Own!


This life, we earn and own:
It is our own to live, love and let.
This present moment,
It is for us to cherish, and to devour.
This earth, it is our birthplace:
It is ours to walk, explore and protect.
The days, weeks and years ahead,
Those are not ours:
The future is for those who come after us,
But it is ours to make it better for them,
Just as those who came before us did.

Via Man Wale’s Random

I Write!


Tonight, I write of the art,
Of writing,
Of the thoughts that,
Flow and,
Of those that itch and ache,
I write of thoughtless banter,
Of the ideas that hide,
And grow in marshes,
That never wilts!

I write of books that sing,
Cheer and dance to the,
Tunes unheard and,
Voices hushed,
Of ignorant professors,
And of arrogant priests.
I write of whispers,
In dreams that spring,
And come to life..
Of Graceful hopelessness,
And undignified success;
Of perverse wealth,
And divine poverty.  


Yes, I write;
Of Truth lost,
In open fields,
And of justice so raw,
That ‘s never served.
I write of un-common sense,
And sublime mediocrity!


I write of holy wars,
And holy deaths,
Of holy arms, bombs and domes,
And holy nations, chosen people and of others condemned.
Oh yes, I write of life as whole!
I can’t help but write!

Via Man Wale’s Random Texts


The other day, I was thinking of how hard it is to talk about happiness without having to talk about sorrow, compassion without a mention of suffering or even about life without death coming to mind. It occurred to me, then, that perhaps happiness has succeeded in being among the most elusive of states because, often, we look in the wrong places: we go about it the wrong way. It began to make sense seeing that the happiest of people are those that have been through the most difficult of times, that those with the most beautiful smiles are people whose names, sorrow knows. This seemed to resonate well with the words of Oscar Wilde when he wrote that ‘where there is sorrow, there is holy ground (De Profundis).’


It then follows that, it is most probably true that one of the best ways to find happiness is to, willingly, be fully immersed in so deep sorrow that we give up on all elements of life that bring us to find bliss in illusory- and so fleeting – happiness. That it is to allow ourselves to be subjects to so much pain that all our hopes are crushed, but not entirely, smothered. It is to slide through tunnels of flame, and allow it to burn out the veils that society has woven to hide, from us, the very truth about happiness that we so yearningly seek: The truth that real happiness is never dependant upon anything outside of the enclaves of our minds; the truth that our minds have the capacity, albeit unexploited, to find paradise even as we are roasted on furnaces; and the truth that true happiness comes not by submitting ourselves, hopelessly, to promises of a better future but by making the most of each moment that we get to experience.

Via Man Wale’s Musings

Of Love and Unforgiving Vanity.


While rummaging through my old texts, I came across this one that I seemingly can’t resist sharing: Read and share in my musings:

“Every once in a while, we lose ourselves in the blissful emptiness that love drowns us in. At first, we try to swim but are swiftly overwhelmed by the unforgiving currents that make true love so fleeting, or even so slippery as the grease that painlessly cause our falling often by lubricating paths we blindly tread. Then, over time, we resign to simply gasping for breathe, to choking in the very flood that should be life-giving. Sometimes we can be lucky enough to find some good music to hold onto, maybe some not-so-deep Dvorac or even phenomenal Paganini but definitely not some too wordy rap songs that look like war songs, or dance clips that sound like misery unpacked. Sometimes, we may not be so lucky: we might give in altogether and allow our hopes to sink us to depths so dark we can only see reflections of our irredeemable decency sneering at us.. ”

I don’t remember what was going through my mind back when I wrote this back then, but it definitely was something so deep only my book and pen can remember. Or my friend’s chess board…:-P

Via Man Wale’s Thoughtless Engagements.

Lesson 15: Take Chances

The more chances we take, the more likely we are to succeed massively.

Think of this as walking around with a bow and arrow, shooting at every passing target(s), the more we shoot, the more likely we are to hit the targets. The most successful people in life never woke up, to success, just one day without having tried so many times.

I also imagine the experience that comes with trying more and more. The skill we get to perfect, the tact. In short, this is a corollary of Malcom Gladwell’s 10,000hour rule.

For this, I say, don’t just wait for the legendary ‘perfect moment,’, keep trying, keep grabbing opportunities, keep taking chances, and success shall truly be yours.


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