Posts Tagged ‘Truth’
My friend at home calls me on a Sunday morning, crying.
Twenty minutes later I am in her kitchen.
She is feeling emotional and calls her boyfriend who is abroad but he doesn’t want to talk until he gets back, a month from now. She needs to stick it out.
Meanwhile a friend in Oslo is going through a depression. She tells her boyfriend she needs him to just be there. But he doesn’t understand how.
On my way to her place I happen to pass by a flower stand and decide to run in and buy her a bouquet.
She realizes her boyfriend has never brought her flowers.
In Switzerland my friend is sad, missing her boyfriend who is left in South Africa. She wants to talk, but the internet in Africa is slow and the connection is cut. Everything remains unspoken.
Speaking to my friend in Stockholm her story tears up my heart. She met a man four years ago and they were crazy in love and planning her move down to his home country, when her dad got sick and she had to stay in Sweden to take care of him.
As her dad got worse, her boyfriend stopped answering her messages and just disappeared. Four years later, he gets in touch and asks her to come visit him. She gets on a plane across the world and they spend three weeks together. When she gets back home he disappears again.
And she is alone with all her thoughts and feelings.
These are the stories we share, us women.
All this silent suffering caused by men,
we pour out and help each other carry.
We don’t always have the answers or know the right thing to say.
But we stay.
No half-heartedness and no worldly fear must turn us aside from following the light unflinchingly.”
The truest form of love is how you behave toward someone, not how you feel about them.
I do not trust people who don’t love themselves and yet tell me, ‘I love you’.
There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.
Go seek a love like this, if you truly live.
Or else remain the slave of time.
And whatever state you seek,
Your lips so dry, must always drink,
Drink up and up,
Till dry lipped still, you reach the source.
For all your skills here given wealth,
Your quest, your handicrafts and works,
Don’t they begin in thought,
Begin beside the river?
Jalaluddin al Balkhi Rumi
It is 5 o’clock in the morning here in Singapore, but still the city lights sparkle like stars in the river.
I won’t be going for my morning run today but instead, I need to pack up my stuff which I have spread out on on my backpacker’s bunk bed, say goodbye to my three dorm roomies which I have gotten rapidly close to, and catch a bus to Malaysia sometime around noon.
Singapore has surprised me. And I have surprised myself.
There are little signs shining through, like ripples on the sunlit river.
I have seen the future, happening right now. I have had the conversations and heard the predictions before they were told.
It has been confirmed to me, what I already knew.
And the beautiful clairvoyant woman in the blue dress who crossed my path knew too.
a soul’s chance to be stimulated by as many worldly things as one’s physical ability and mental inhibitions will allow.
* I can’t remember where I read this, but it makes me want to be braver, try harder, run faster, laugh louder, love more passionately
and never regret a day I’ve felt alive!
And of course when you’re interested in growth, you’re interested in the growth of those around you. They are absolutely interdependent. You grow only insofar as people around you are also growing and expanding and becoming freer. It is something that is interactive, something you give to each other.
(the extraordinary) Anaïs Nin
I feel sickness lurking under my skin, and behind my eyes. It started already yesterday with a sore throat and that low energy-less state where you just can’t pin-point what’s wrong but you feel a thousand emotions at the same time.
Conversations about happiness, dreams and aspirations gets mixed up with a former colleague’s battle against cancer and the news that my childhood friend took his own life. I wish I had told him that he was my first love, that I used to watch the curls of his hair from behind my desk and that my heart swelled when he chuckled. I wish I had told him how special he was, that he made a difference.
We say so little yet we talk so much.
Sometimes I wish I could flip my head like a trash can and empty it from all the scribbled words and scattered thoughts, notes and papers that pile up in the box of my mind…
…let a fresh breeze blow away all the dust from the archive of old ideas, truths that have lost their meaning and plans made in the past.
I’d keep nothing but the stillness of my heart in the moment when you and I lay silently smiling and share the one thing that can not be explained.
For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
~ Fr. Alfred D’Souza