The sky above is grey, dark clouds weep tears, it has a magical quality of drenching everything around it, the blossoms and the trees, in its all encompassing misery. Though, it is not total misery, it is a slow, numbing virus that eats away at ones self.
My old soul creaks under the weight of the ticking seconds, the darkness that engulfs me.
The sun set drenching the room in its light. The old floorboards creaked under her feet as she walked to the window, pulling the silk drapes down.
She had not left the house for many weeks and the passing of time had lost all meaning.
The people in her life where resembling shadows and shadows do not leave much to miss. They seem to stand silently beside you, offering you a glimpse of the person, yet when dark times inevitably fall they vanish.
The more she learnt of truth, she realised all she knew was lies.
“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly”
The sun has set and the dark night creeps in, children play on the street.
I sit in the dimly lit room, candle light flickers against the bare white walls. Tears form in my eyes until they cascade down my cheeks. I try to connect, I am trying, I cry out loud “please help, please give me the strength”. I walk my days at times with the world weighing on me, the passing traffic of people flood me with their grief and pain. How do I learn to close myself to others emotional baggage? I can hardly walk in the city at times, panic attacks strike me, I forget how to breath, how to walk, who am I?
Where has compassion gone? Many say oh it is still there, yet at times I fail to see it. The passing people consumed in their own world, what they are having for lunch, what they are going to do tomorrow, the next day and the next.
We judge others simply for their beliefs not on the merit of being a good person despite their god or way of worship. Why is it so hard for people to see through that? Ignorance blinds, deafens and kills.
At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with ones lost self. – Brendan Francis
The pale blue sky stretches in to eternity above me, the moon faintly forms a crescent and the sun sets to the west. An aeroplane flies past, it almost seems fake, unrealistic as it glides to the pink clouds. “I wonder where they are going? Who’s on board” I muse to myself.
Through out my life I have been there, gliding thousands of feet above the reality below. If not a majority of each year was spent shuffling through one airport to the next. It has become my comfort zone, I walk through airports, with the lost travellers looking for direction, foreign languages intoxicate the air, I feel at peace.
A huge sense of relief spreads through me as I sit in the lounges, coffee in hand, jet lagged and exhausted. The exhaustion turns into my fuel, a promise of a new adventure, a new beginning my drug.
For the majority of my life, I have been neither here nor there, running away from my past and myself. With the thick humid air of the deserts that stretch beyond me, I flutter.
It is only when you are lost, that you can find yourself.
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.” ― Albert Einstein
Pink clouds stretch across a deep orange sky as the sun set, in that moment all simply is. Trees gently sway in the whispering breeze, crickets welcome the oncoming night. I look to the skies above and sigh.
What is reality?
Since I can remember I have felt this strange sensation; am I really awake? What if I was simply in a deep sleep and woke realising this, my whole life was a dream. What if time, was an illusion and your life as you perceive it was a carefully constructed and intricate lie?
It can be difficult to speak about such things in words, as the truth just is, it is speechless, its felt rather than heard and known rather than learnt. Yet something that can be said as well as felt; our perception of time is speeding up, people are ‘awakening’, asking questions and allowing their essence to be heard. More and more people are tuning in to their conciousness, to their vibration, or whatever else you know it as.
Yet many people are like ants, carrying out functions unknown to them in a daze of reality and a haze of city fumes, their essence in a deep slumber, their own mind blinding them.
Now stars cover the dark ink sky like a mosaic, cicadas sing in the humid air and bats screech. Another night will pass, escaping our grasp.
Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.
“You aren’t a bad person.” she says looking at me, taking a puff of the cigarette in hand, beyond the cafe balcony traffic thundered past, and the thick, humid air hung over the passing people like a blanket.
“My actions where wrong though, its not even the action – it’s the thought process” I reply, my eyes glancing over the cocktail menu, things had progressed quickly from coffee to cocktail jars.
Chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, the walls painted in a deep red that flaked of age, music seduced the dimly lit rooms.
“I just don’t think you’re a bad person” she shrugged to me as she faced the waiter to order. “Everyone is capable of being a bad person … it’s about acknowledging it” I answer, handing my menu back to him.
I light another cigarette and look to the bustling streets below. “I have seen violence so much growing up.. Maybe I’m just used to it, that’s why I resort to it when things get too much”. Her eyes examine my face “I don’t think you are like that. Not everyone becomes what they came from”.
Man stands in his own shadow and wonders why it’s dark – Zen Proverb
The Sun sets casting deep pinks and burnt oranges across the horizon, as the turquoise tides caress white sands. I sit under a swaying palm, digging my feet into the scorching sand, my dress clings to my body in the sweltering heat and the humid air is thick.
Lately I feel the tides of my mind have been calming, a new age appears inside, where I would drowned in the past I am learning to swim and float. The ripples of progress and self improvement are reaching far, and I can see them extending to my relationships – with myself, others and the world around me.
Iced water drips on my hand from my cocktail, the sky is illuminated in the suns light, time ticks by as another night escapes my grasp.
“In India when we meet and part we often say, ‘Namaste’, which means: I honour the place in you where the entire universe resides; I honour the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace. I honour the place within you where if you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us.” – Ram Dass
This is not my first, nor my second, not even third blog, and I highly doubt it to be my last attempt at scrawling my thoughts and musings down in blog format. Like life, there is no right or wrong path in writing, and you are allowed an infinite number of beginnings.
An 18 year old girl named Toni-Yvonne who floated North to South in search of something, and in some ways running away from herself.
From seeing the sun set across Europe, and the vast deserts that blanket the Middle East, she has racked up impressive air miles and a love for airports.
A blending pot of cultures and experiences, this is her take on life, lessons and everything else that crosses her mind.