Witnessed my mother perform 12 rakat prayer on this sacred night. Prayers for those long gone, dust and ash and bones, but never forgotten. Songs written in poetry, recited with forehead to the ground. Here, we whisper secrets and longing.

The wheels turn and kilometers dissipate. The further I drive, the more I remember.

I read poetry lines like hunger. Insatiable like a thirst that comes from the gut, rooted at the heart.
At night sitting by candle light, I recount stories to an invisible audience that is all ears and no words. Do you know where I’ve come from? I ask. They stare back with faces like blank canvas / so I draw them eyes out of my tomorrows and lips red with les incendies of my past. they seem satisfied with the little I can provide, and I take the time to live vicariously through these dreams of my own fabrication. Later, when the need to understand has come to it’s momentary lull, I spend the remaining hours tying knots like promises. at equally spaced intervals, one after another, I place them like beads until the string I hold in my hand is now a rosary, summoning an army of prayer. prayers that set fire to my demons and force my eyelids to close, only to reopen again, this time from the inside out. 

******************

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning, a new arrival.

A joy, a sadness, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected guest

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows
Sweeping your home empty
Still
Treat each guest honorably
For he may be cleaning you out for a new delight

The dark thought, the shame
Greet them at the door laughing
Invite them in

Be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent
as a guide from the Beyond

I’m shedding this skin and stepping onto higher ground. The rain clouds, taking a hint, take the chance to step-out. subsiding, retreating, defeated only in their failed attempts at defeating me.

The resilience of a soul reflects in the kindness it leaves in it’s wake. leaving behind the  salt-water form of my over-cooked apologies and the feigned interest that always greeted them. Well done doesn’t always mean done well.
Never again, I had told myself.  How can we keep promises to others if we won’t keep our promises to ourselves? Without hesitation, I know this is one promise I will keep.

Feet on ground, heart in hand, facing forward.

**********************************

I remember my grade 11 science teacher telling us a story once about learning to not underestimating the power of something or someone, while overestimating your own (the more narcissistic route). As a kid, he used to visit his grandmother’s house often, where in the backyard, he would throw things at the 4 big Great Danes who lived in the house next door, and spent most of their time in the adjacent backyard. Separated only by a wooden fence, my teacher used to do everything short of harassing the dogs, feeling safe behind the fence that he felt kept him from harm’s way. He would taunt them, yell at them, wave things at them, trying to get a reaction. But often, they only barked at him, or scrapped at the bottom of the fence, in an attempt to climb over.
One day, my teacher looks over the fence and finds the neighbor playing fetch with the dogs. The way he recounted the story, these dogs were the same height as a full grown man when they stood on their hind legs. Suddenly, the ball the neighbor was throwing flies over the fence, and into my teacher’s backyard. In the blink of an eye, the great Danes leap over the height of the fence, clearing them with ease. Suddenly, my teacher is face to face with the dogs he’d been harassing for months. Worst of all, he said, was that sudden realization that the dogs hadn’t pounced on him earlier because they couldn’t, but because they were so well disciplined. If they could do this so easily, what else could they do?
He got away without being hurt, but told us it was one lesson he didn’t forget.

my professor told us that mysticism isn’t freedom of the self, but freedom from the self. freedom from the everyday back and forth between the vicissitudes of life. how satisfying would that be? I find myself craving something I have never experienced.

when he asked the class where that sense of self came from, the room went silent. everyone was thinking ‘what do you mean, where?’ who gave it to you? he asked, where does it live? questions that reminded me of a scene from the movie what dreams may come. it’s the first scene after Chris  has just died and gone to ‘heaven’, where the angel who greets him asks him if he really believes that he has seized to exist simply because his physical body had died. trying to make him understand that his soul, his self, was in fact eternal, and that his physical body had only been it’s temporary home.

Albert: So what is the “me”?
Chris Nielsen: My brain I suppose.
Albert: Your brain ? Your brain is a body part. Like your fingernail or your heart. Why is that the part that’s you?
Chris Nielsen: Because I have sort of a voice in my head, the part of me that thinks, that feels, that is aware that I exist at all.
Albert: So if you’re aware you exist, then you do. That’s why you’re still here.

I realized two things today:

1) Facing fears and stepping up to the plate = success

2) seeking appreciation from others is futile. People will either recognize you for what you are – the good, the bad, the heart and soul of intentions and actions – or they won’t. It’s your responsibility to take it one step further and to do good anyway, for the sake of Goodness itself.

On the first point: I received a call this morning from the chair of my youth network, asking if I could give a speech on my experience with the network and the things I’ve learned/gained. The keynote speaker had been unable to attend last minute and they needed back up. My immediate thought, bred from pure impulse, was to say “no thank you” and hang up. Reason being simple: I have been, for as long as I can remember, completely terrified of public speaking. Even if ‘the public’ consisted only of a handful of people – the results are equally disastrous: words get stuck in my throat, my voice takes on unfavorable changes in pitch, and in what feels like flurry of inexplicable panic, I sometimes lose complete track of what I’m trying to say. Needless to say, I have always known my strengths… and I’ve always known that public speaking wasn’t one of them. But something happened differently today. To my complete shock, I found myself saying “sure, I’d love to” instead of the habitual no. only after I hung up did I realize what I’d gotten myself into: coming up with something intelligent and significant to say to the council and our guests (which included upper management) in little under an hour. in retrospect though, this is what did it. Once I realized that there was no turning back, the fear began to become insignificant. I had promised, and now I had to deliver, whether I was terrified or not. They say that the first step is always the hardest – I guess that this proves true in cases like this. knowing there is no way out helps push you past the irrational fear and face the challenge head on.
With an hour to prep, I jotted down a few points I wanted to cover and, at the risk of sounding cliché, just went for it. No second guessing, no over thinking it, and i realized how this helped reduce the anxiety I usually would be feeling. often over preparing and forcing yourself to stick to a predetermined flow can have adverse consequences and just make you more nervous.

Right before it was my turn to go up, the familiar panic came knocking on my door, right on cue, and that’s when I realized – the only way past this is to speak from the heart. Know your topic well and be passionate about it. So I took that monumental deep breath and dove in. I spoke with conviction because I really believed in what I was saying – in my network, my organization, and the work we had been doing. The people I worked with, from my peers to our upper management that had made all of this possible. A voice for the youth. A necessary platform for innovation in the public sector.

When I was done, I wasn’t sure how it had gone – but I was glad. so glad that I’d forced myself to do this, and to my relief, it seemed like I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. People were clapping, smiling and nodding.

It wasn’t until later, when I went around greeting and saying hello, that one by one, I was complimented on my “amazing speech”, on how well I had spoken and my strong delivery – all of which caught me by complete surprise. It was my turn to smile.

Lesson of this story: step up to the plate, face your fears, and exercise pure intentions. Speak from the heart and nothing can go wrong.

On the second point – they say there is no point crying over spilled milk. But who hasn’t ? We’ve all sat around pondering on why ifs, working ourselves up about things that went wrong, mistakes that we made, opportunities missed. But what I’ve also managed to do after this initial mourning period, is to roll up my sleeves and get to work. Fixing, mending, salvaging what can be salvaged. Making the best of the situation. helping heal wounded hearts. Learning from the mistakes of the past so they do not become regrets of the future. What I learned today is that there is no guarantee of reward or due recognition in any of this. There is no one at the end of the line waiting to say ‘good job’ or even ‘thank you’ for your efforts. for your sacrifices. for all you intentions, which albeit did not fix what was broken, were carried out with goodness. worst yet, you will probably get treated with the same negativity as if you had neglected to do any of those things – but do them anyway.often, while we’re busy reacting to the hurt and injustices we’ve experienced, we’re failing the greater test- our reaction to these challenges. Do you let your heart harden? Step away from your inherent goodness? This is where I feel humanity lacks.

Do right only for the sake of God (or goodness, or karma, whatever you want to call it). Do good for the sake of your own soul. Be kind for the sake of who you want to be, not who you want others to be to you. Letting go of that outter personna we all emanate is the first step. It’s the only way to maintain sanity in the face of a world that rarely dispenses credit where credit is due. I know this is harder said than done, and often we’re left craving to hear someone say that we did good – that our efforts, although they have fallen short, are recognized for what they were – good intentions. turn away from the need for such worldly comforts and instead embrace the calm that comes from a heart that beats purely for the sake of service to others which ultimately, is service to your creator.

vaseye kesi bemir ke vasat tab kone

I want to free myself from the vines that bind me to this earth
cut them down to size
compartmentalize them in the shelves i’ve built
out of the moments I’ll never let go of

not everything can be repaired, but almost everything can be survived

4am

birds singing. the sun’s earliest risers pierce through the clouds. clouds that pin my heart with rain.
I have been awake for what seems like an eternity. and through all of this, a presence. like a steady hand on my shoulder, keeping me company as I’ve travelled from one dimension of being to another and another yet. even in the recesses of my mind, it is a force to be reckoned with. consistently managing to find a door to knock on – doors I keep closing but come back to find wide open.
suddenly, I have become a companion on this journey that is mine, carefully retracing steps back into a heart that beats in my chest. on the hardwood floor, hot morning tea and prayers help lead it to a quieter place, and I am reminded:

an accident gradually gets accepted
as the thing that needed to happen.
Sickness melts into health

There is nothing worst than staying congealed.
Let your liver dissolve into blood.
Let your heart break into such tiny pieces
that it cannot be found