Ode to you, little blue bird

Image sourced from Google

A claw approaches a scratch causes you pain. Your cries of help unheard in the rain. Again and again the claw scratches. A strange ear hears your cry and green eyes look for you.

Your small body is spotted, a voice cries "No!" As the claw approaches once more. Big warm hands release your foot from it's trap and holds your frail body light. "Why?" Ask the man with the green eyes to the cat behind the claws. His green eyes going grey and filling with tears as he holds the little blue bird in the palm of his hand. The cat behind the claw looks at him with amusement and silently struts away. Through big hands the green eyed man feels the feint heartbeat of the little blue bird in his palm, "I am so sorry" says the man as tears fall from his face, "I'm sorry".

Through big hands the little heartbeat slows. The little life is fading away. Wrapped in warm hands the little blue bird has no more pain. 

A little blue bird opens his eyes and looks through the tears into green eyes, "Sorry" says a broken voice to the little life in his hands. "You are just a little baby. Innocent and frail." Thought the man with the green eyes. "I cannot save you" said the broken voice, hushed and emotional. "All I can do is hold you and keep you warm"

The final soft and freil heartbeat is felt through big hands. A hush falls over the world, a head slumps and a tear falls onto the wing of a lifeless little blue bird.

"You never experienced the feeling of air under your wings or the freedom of flight in your life." Thought the green eyed man with tears on his cheeks.

A lesson is learned, must be learned, from the short life of the little blue bird.

Your potential is unknown, your future has many amazing sights, air under your wings, the skies at your demand.

Fly now.

Wonderbox

Sometime I catch myself drifting around in my own head. A mind filled with swirling thoughts and ideas, a complete space of chaotic order and beauty. Each idea, each thought so beautifully crafted with vivid detail and exceptional clarity. Random thoughts of life and love. Death and the beyond. Ideas and thoughts flowing seamlessly from one to the other creating it's own marvelous and disturbing movie in my mind. I sit and get absorbed by these movies, watching as a child would their favourite movie character come to life before their eyes. Wonderment.

My mother always said to me that it is perfectly normal to talk to yourself, however, when you start answering yourself you have a problem. Wise words. Makes sense once you give it a moments thought. What is happening inside my head must be utter madness. Do need a white jacket and a puffy walled room? Or do I simply sit and enjoy the movie? Surprised at my own creativity and ability to visualize?

These thoughts, these movies, often entrap me - lingering long after the last frame has had it's turn to play. Scene and screenshots fill my eyes as does music and lyrics. This movie of mine never truly comes to an end. A scene can give birth to a whole new story, an elaboration of the movie. So it goes in this wonderbox that is my mind. Once in a while I unexpected feel a tear falling from my cheek as these movies reflect what my heart feels - comedy and drama unfold in these reels.

A very wise man once told me that we are defined by our collective life experience. That each experience changes us and molds us into the people we are. No two are the same. Each person has their very own unique experience of life and experiences that have the lingering and profound ability to change us at our core, change our behaviors and mindsets. Is this simply what inspires my wonderbox to churn and create such spectacular pantomimes?

For now I will allow my moments of cinema in my mind, it is after all exceptionally affordable entertainment. Never disappointing me with what is on show.

My experience. My life. My wonderbox.

Yours,
Ry

Live to survive

"How are you doing?"

"Ag, i'm surviving!"

Surviving, there is that word again. Used so often to explain how someone is doing, without emotion or feeling, without real reason or need. Surviving. Is this not the problem with how we experience life these days? Has this become the modern humans' existence? To simply survive from day to day?

A very profound truth dawned upon me on a recent trip to Morocco - we, as modern humans, have started surviving instead of living out lives. Have we forgotten how to live and have simply returned to the basic animalistic trait of survival? Have we forgotten how to live? Surely living is a lot easier and more pleasurable than surviving?

As I was walking around the medina's and rummaging through the souks in the various cities in Morocco I saw people who have very little, yet live each day with dedication and commitment.

Allow me to elaborate on that comment:

A owner of a souk wakes up early in the morning, does the obligatory ablutions and heads of to work. Work is shopkeeping, their little shop, selling whatever wares catch their fancy. Each morning the entrance area to the shop is swept and washed as to ensure that passer by's will not be put of by uncleanliness. Now they wait. The whole day can pass without a single sale being made, perhaps 10 sales can be made? Yet outside the shop they sit on their chair, looking at all the tourists and locals passing by. A smile is seen on these shops owners faces. Never a frown. Never sadness or regret. Never a sense of wanting to give up. Because maybe, just maybe the next tourist will come and purchase an item? The day ends, the shop gets locked and life can be lived. Men and woman going to their favourite places to spend time with their friends or family, while enjoying the nightlife and street food or simply drinking a mint tea. They go to sleep and start the routine again. Day after day. Without fail. "Today I will get a sale".

These shop owners are living life. Not surviving it. They have very little to keep them going, however they are motivated and dedicated to their shop, to their business, to their source of income. The best is made out of every situation, whether there is a sale or not, life continues, and they live it.

In contrast to the life of the modern man, we work in office parks for established companies and earning a solid steady income every month. We work from 8 to 5 (on average). We drive. We have public transport. We get lunch breaks and holidays and weekends off. How much to we really have to survive? Should we not be rejoicing in the fact that we have so much? So many questions already answered? Why the frowns on our faces? Because our managers are not easy people? That the work is boring? That the coffee is cheap instant and not filter? The air conditioner is always set so cold? The canteen does not serve the best food?

How does working 7 days a week, from 7am to 9pm? Taking a lunchtime meaning you may miss out on potential income? No air conditioner? No coffee? No holidays? Does the person with this life not deserve to frown and be unhappy? Why then do they smile? Why then do they have passion and dedication?

Yes humanity of the modern age, we are spoiled. We have become so accustomed to the easy life that we have the nerve to complain when we have so much. Outside influence and societal disfunction has made us selfish, greedy and ungrateful people.

Perhaps, just perhaps it is time to step back? Do a true evaluation of the life we lead and ask the question: What are we unhappily trying to survive? Why are we not spending more energy happily living?

Keep it sunny side up people!

Ry

What's your story?

There are some stories, amazing stories, life changing stories, which never get told. A word about it never uttered, a whisper never escaping the lips of those it is about. “Why is that?” I ask myself very gaily. Why is it, that the stories that have no real world relevance are the ones that we are bombarded with on a daily basis? We read these stories to our children before they go sleep. The knight in shiny armor comes to rescue the princess, locked in a tower by a witch. A crystal slipper reworked to the mobile phone for the digital era. A donkey with buck teeth and an ogre looking for love. These stories, although entertaining, carry across a message of free loving, smiles and candy to the world. The simple fact, and very harsh fact of the matter is this; the human race has the potential to love greatly, but we personally limit this ability greatly within ourselves. Our priorities are not what they should be. Money has become the leader of man, the motivator of life. While we hold on to this very skew perception of what which will bring happiness, we will never, never, never be fulfilled. We will never love like we can.

When given the option of (1.) wealth or (2.) happiness, the common human will choose wealth, as we have been deluded to think that we cannot have one without the other. Here is an example; Can two people be completely satisfied and happy with life, sitting on an old tattered sofa, with a small television, watching SABC and holding hands?

I asked this question to a friend of mine the other day, and they were completely horrified at the very prospect. “…but these people are clearly poor”, “…why aren’t they at second jobs to try and improve their situation?” You poor soul, how much you have been missing of the world. Say these people get their second jobs, and suddenly the income is rolling in, they buy the new sofa’s and the new flat screen television, with the full satellite bouquet, would this mean that they will suddenly be happy? “…definitely. How could they not be?” The answer is simple.

They aren’t. They have become strangers to each other. They no longer have time to spend together like they used to, and although they have the new toys, they don’t have the time to enjoy them together. These people, before, were in love with each other, and yes, although they did not have the fancy things, or the huge cash flow, they knew each other, they were happy with each other, they were happy with life. Their expenses were manageable, as there weren’t many, and they had the time to get to know each other, and love each other. “…but then they could just make time for each other again. Quit the extra jobs and go back?” No.

The new flat’s rent has now more expensive, the new cars and the added little bits and bobs are forcing them to stay at the new jobs. Otherwise they will drown in debt. They have no other choice but to keep the second jobs.  “…oh, well, I suppose that’s the price you pay for living the good life.”  The good life? Is it really the good life? Becoming estranged from someone you once knew better than yourself? Being forced to earn more money, when it wasn’t needed in the first place? To have that added stress, that unneeded responsibility. Not being able to enjoy the things you worked and sacrificed to much for?

“No. I suppose not. No”

There are some stories, amazing stories, life changing stories, which never get told. A word about it never uttered, a whisper never escaping the lips of those it is about...

What's your story?

Yours

Ry

Flying lanterns...

I have long since believed that there is nothing that rewinds the clock, takes the mind to an altered state of childhood, to a place of pure joy and happiness than that of a Chinese flying lantern drifting lazily in the sky. It does not seem to matter if these lanterns were a part of your childhood but when you look at it in the sky you have this sense of awe and wonder - like a child seeing something for the very first time!

I have loved, adored and admired the sheer simplicity and brilliance of a Chinese flying lantern. Always wanted to be in a place where 1000's are sent up all at once. I have not yet had the chance... I will one day.

For me a lantern is more than just sending up a pretty something into the night sky and appreciating the beauty of it, no, it is far more than that to me. There is a ritual behind it for me, a wish sent up to the universe, a prayer sent up to God, a well wish on someone, a dedication to a person/s missed. A lantern has so much more meaning than it being a simple decoration that floats.

I have sent up a lantern for a loved on missed, a message to a family member that has passed from this world, a general shout out to anyone who sees it and a message of love, devotion and thanks to God. I start my little ritual by writing a message to the intended recipient, allowing the pen to carry all the emotion that I feel for that person to flow from the tip. I light the wick and wait patiently for the lantern to fill with air, waiting for it to start pulling upwards. Once I am satisfied that the pull is strong enough to keep the lantern afloat - I read the message out loud to the world. Out loud to the person who I intend to read it. Feeling the goose flesh cover my body as I do so - ensuring in my mind that the message will be delivered.

I let the lantern go - watch it float from my hands and watch as my icon, my symbol, my message of love and devotion reach towards the air and get tugged and pulled by the air currents. I get a warm feeling of sheer happiness in my heart, watching in awe as this simple little device floats higher and higher, becoming smaller and smaller, until it is like the stars in the sky. Just a pin-prick on the darkness of the night sky.

Just like that a star is born, a message is delivered and a wish fulfilled.

I have long since believed that there is nothing that rewinds the clock, takes the mind to an altered state of childhood, to a place of pure joy and happiness than that of a Chinese flying lantern drifting lazily in the sky.

Wouldn't you agree?

Keep it sunny-side up readers!
Ry

Things & stuff

I have long since been a collector of sorts, a hoarder, an appreciator of things and stuff that have personal value to me - items that have a sentimental value and have somehow played on my heartstrings. That is all good and well, however when those things become a burden, a reminder of a painful time is it time to let go? Do you have to let it go and let it be? Give up on the stuff?

Let me explain what I hoard: The things & stuff that I hold on to the strongest are memories, or items that invoke a memory that I never intended to forget. I write down important dates in my diary. I collect seashells so that I do not forget what the ocean looks like. I hold on to trinkets that were given to me by the man I love, to remind me of the love we have. Some stuff I hold on to even if they remind me of a painful time, as a constant reminder of growth and getting over the pain. I have so many things & stuff that remind me of the past - both good and bad.

Here is the problem with this nagging little flaw of mine: The more I hold on to my things & stuff, my memories so carefully collected, the more I distract myself from living in the present. When times are difficult I look at a thing to cheer me up and take me back to a happier time instead of dealing with the difficult time. When I am happy and in a good place, I run the risk of looking at a thing that will remind me of the pain I have suffered, completely bringing on a downer. These things & stuff have so much power over my life - it is actually concerning!

One evening when times were tough, I surrounded myself with all my things & stuff. All the happy times and bad times alike. A complete abundance of memories to keep me company when I feel alone. Suddenly I realised what I had managed to do with my life - I have built a cage of memories. A prison of reminders. Why would I do this to myself. Why would I allow these objects and things to have such power in my life, such a large degree of control and influence? Most of the trinkets have no real financial value, so I cannot even use that as an excuse - it was pure memory.

There I sat with tears flowing down my face as I started to destroy and remove each one of my trinkets. One by one I remembered its relevance and moved on - disposing of the thing when I was done. I was letting go. I had to let go for my own peace of mind, for my future. If my head is too full of the past how can I have room for the future? How can I grow when I have held on to old pain?

The result of my cleansing evening was a feeling of freedom. A feeling of being able to have a better and brighter future. I have more control now. I have taken back my power. My diary shall be the only evidence of my past. Will be the only trace of events past. Not in a bad way, not in a way to hold on, but purely as a reference for me should I feel the need to call on it.

It is amazing what joy or pain that can be given by a simple note that says: I love you
An ocean of happiness or a sea of pain can ensue and consume you for those moments. How much power is given to things & stuff.

To all those who have given some of their power away - may 2013 be the year of change for you. May it be a year where you get your power back - as you deserve.

Yours
Ry