In recent days I’ve started to ponder about love and how love has changed over the years. Love is still just four letters but the form of love has changed. Let’s go back to those teenage years when dating was all the rage. Often it seemed that each classmate paired up except for me.
Then I did — but was it love? Did I even know what love was back then? I had a long term relationship and thought that was love. Actually, I’m sure it was love. It was what I thought/needed love to be. My security blanket, comfort zone, companion. Then life crashed down and I skipped town.
Maybe I didn’t know what love really was. After all, my parent’s were divorced and my mom and step dad fought constantly. Was that love? Constant disagreement? Surely not but I didn’t know.
Love comes in an array of colors, emotions, thoughts and so much more. The love I have for chocolate cake is different than the love I have for my nieces and nephews. Love can be simple, complicated, confusing and down right scary. Putting ourselves out there to be embraced or shot down can be hell.
Now that I’ve aged like fine wine or cheese whichever you prefer, do I know what love is? Yes — love is like giving away your most valuable treasure, maybe a childhood token, and hoping that it’s well taken care of. If not, take it back, fix it up and try again. Love is something that will make us and break us but we have to choose to continue on no matter how scary it may be. Love is worth it. Life is worth it. You are worth it.
In life we come across various challenges, some self imposed while others occur without permission. Often times you hear people say that life is unfair and they are 100% right.
Let’s take a classroom full of 25 people, they picked their own seat. You handed them each one piece of paper. You then set a wastebasket front and center of the room and you tell them, whomever can get a piece of paper in the basket gets a $100 gift card.
What do you think is going to happen?
People in the front row won’t have to try very hard as they are just a few feet away from the wastebasket. However, the people in the back of the room have to try harder then the rest because they are sitting behind rows of other people.
This is privilge.
For those people towards the front of the classroom they may not understand or recognize that there is a difference between them and everyone else, all they see is the wastebasket. While the people towards the back of the room are the ones voicing their opinions loudest about the unfairness of the situation.
Educate, Advocate and Unite.
There is no golden rule or perfect equation to navigate through the privileges each person has. I do believe that people need to wake up (get out of denial) and look around you. It should anger you about the injustice that is displayed daily.
Its the time to educate others, advocate for those who don’t have a voice and most importantly unite with each other to make a better and brighter future for all.
I did not develop the privilege lesson on my own however, it is truly a powerful lesson we all should sit back and dwell on. In light of the tragic events now more than ever we need solidarity to ensure that Black Lives Matter.
I feel dazed as
contact with reality
is partially lost.
Loss of vacations,
In office work,
even your touch.
Life is lived in the details,
with no mercy in sight —
This is our great loss.
Anxiety ridden thoughts
I’m afraid of:
the end never comes,
no sense of normalcy.
During the bombings,
in the bunker I socialized
we all shared
the same fate.
Uncertainty leaves us
no courage and broken down.
Life outside is
I don’t want to be
This poem was inspired by two opinion videos I watched on The New York Times where I used majority of the lines spoken to form this Cento.
Messages From Quarantine by Niccolo Natali and Nikola Lorenzin really hit home because we are all at a big loss. We are all broken and living with a high level of uncertainty.
We’re All Grieving. This is How We Get Through It. By Nayeema Raza spoke to me because we all are experiencing a sense of anxiety. Our lives were cancelled/disrupted by this pandemic with no clear vision that this will ever end. This should not stop us in our tracks. We still need to celebrate with each other.
Feature Photo by Norbert Kundrak from Pexels edited in Canva.
Let me feel
Let me inhale
freshly cut grass. Let me hear
of the city.
Let me grasp
your soft hand.
Let me taste
the salty sea.
Let me laugh
so hard I cry.
Let me see
the night sky.
One Last Time.
‘I’m not going to drink coffee when I’m older’ a young naive child once thought as she got her mother the millionth cup of coffee (or so it seemed that many). Pitch black coffee in a cup along with two scoops of sugar and some creamer. Stir round and round until a light caramel color over takes the dark and french vanilla fills the air. Just like the way the young girl’s mother enjoyed her coffee.
Every morning, the young child’s mother would scurry across the street to the neighbors house to sit with the neighbor and sip their cup of joe while letting off steam in the brisk dessert air.
This was my childhood. My mom and my best friend’s mom became best friends (more like family, now that its been about 19 years). I hated getting my mom coffee (sorry mom if you’re reading this). I didn’t like coffee and I didn’t understand why she likes coffee, until recently.
Now I find myself, sitting on the porch with my cup of coffee enjoying the brisk country air while the world slowly awakes. Birds chirping, worms slithering away and here I sit observing the pure innocent nature around me. Its the little reminders I find throughout my time during house arrest that life is still beautiful.
Look up from your phone every once in a while. Break away from the social norms and find a blissful moment. Who knows you may even remember a childhood memory like I did.
‘Til next time
Believe in yourself. As a writer enthusiast, I often deem my own work as flawed. While others, I am captivated by the imagery and the emotions they evoked to the reader. Its a challenge to consider myself as a writer and/or poet because there are so many greats out there.
I do have to remember they all started in the same places I was. Well except for older civilizations where they chiseled on stones or Shakespeare who wrote with a quill (although that sounds really cool now that I think of it. I’m sure he had a lot of ink stains though).
Given our global health right now, I’d say its more important to write more than ever because who knows what your writing will do for someone else. I also think of The Diary of Anne Frank, that book is iconic and it was just a young girl writing about her time during the Nazi occupation in WWII. Without those writings we wouldn’t have a good look into what that time frame looked like.
So folks keep writing, the good, the bad and the ugly truth about our days. Below is a poem I’ve played around with, not sure how I feel about it.
Pleasing the crowds is impractical with
Ambiguous reporting daily.
Novel Cornavirus can be —
Emphasis on hand washing,
Minimize group settings to
Improve your chances of not getting
‘Til next time.
72 hours of
Filled with dispare.
This isnt me.
Swallowing my pride,
I grasped the light.
Have I needed
Declaring my sorrow,
Accepting my feat,
Can you see me?
There you were
Your sharp taste
slices my throat.
Forcing me to dance
like a sad jester.
Between each gasp,
I i n h a l e your courage
leaving me numb.
I've gone too far.
A downward spiral
anchoring me to
the ocean floor.
Here I search
to be heard,
Are you listening?
You go through a variety of phases similar to the moon, dare I say it. Although, the moon is more predictable as to what phase it is in, unlike life where you kind of just guess until after the phase is over you’ll be certain as to what phase you went through.
There are general phases: infant, childhood, puberty, teenager, adulthood, parenthood, retirement/grandparent. Once you hit 18 the phases are less and less predictable. You’ll be able to point out what phases others are in because you’re an outsider looking in. When it comes to your own life, it could be more of a challenge.
For 18 years of my life, I was in school consistently k-master’s degree. Seem’s like a lot, it was, but it was completely worth it. I’ve been out of school for a little over a year now, and I have no ambition or motive to do anything; I’m in abyss. I have no desire to marry nor have children. I have no desire to be a homeowner. I have no desire in changing my work place because I love where I work and what I do. This is no place to be though or so what society has told me. Why? Because this is the time I am supposed to be putting myself out there, finding a mate for life and settling down, starting a family.
Here I struggle to understand what is next for me. I am a planner, wherever I go I have some plan or an idea as to what needs to happen. When those plans are washed away, I’m at a complete and total loss. I shut down. I melt like a snowman on a hot summer day, tears and all. I’m learning to be okay with not having a plan, after all you can’t plan for everything in life, sometimes you just got to roll with the punches.
My words for you, Keep on dreaming and don’t stop.