Let me be very honest and say that past couple of months have really been difficult; at times testing. Kind of the months where you really start feeling whether things are ever going to change; whether life for me will always be tough, where it seems like all one is doing, is trying to make ends meet, trying to do something to change and yet nothing works out. I could feel myself slipping into an abyss of depression where even the very act of getting up in the morning is like trying to climb a mountain, where it is easier to just hide my face rather than face the world.
I think all of us have had days or even weeks like these. I was trying hard to keep my head above water, not let myself be pulled down. I was looking for little things to pull me through, little chinks in the dark clouds. Then I realised I had the power. I had it in myself to be my own saviour.
Whoever said life is easy? Life is tough but still you need to be tougher. So go on make that choice today. Pull yourself up, pick up all those pieces. Grab on to that ray of hope. Your moment is waiting for you just round the corner. So get up and be strong!
Now as you stand on the very edge,
The precipice of life and death,
Do the ghosts of the past haunt you?
Does every wrongdoing taunt you?
Does it hurt looking them in the eye?
All those poor souls you tormented ignoring their innocent cry
How does it feel to be in that place?
Where all that can save you is darkness and oblivion
Peace has been shattered by your own piercing screams
Death stands at your door beckoning with its bony fingers,
It’s the day of reckoning for your pitiless soul
What you wished for others once has come calling for you,
In all your glory you forgot that this day would come for you too!
There is no escape, there is no escape…
For me it has to be this verse from Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening”. It’s as follows:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
There is something about this verse that has stayed with me. It symbolizes that as humans we have so many duties to undertake and fulfil that we hardly get time to do the things we enjoy the most.
The Spice of Success
If “failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor” (Truman Capote), how spicy do you like your success stories?
Without a doubt failure and success go hand in hand, for if we never tasted failure how would we appreciate the taste of success? If being successful was everyone’s cup of tea, would we not be running away from it, rather than towards it? Failure gives us hope, it gives us inspiration, a goal. We look at people who are successful and aspire, we dare to dream, to hope,to pursue that hope, only having thAt hope dashed to the ground. What does that failure fill us with? More determination, renewed vigour, to try and to achieve our Everest. As a writer with no connections in the publishing world, I faced rejection after rejection to get my book published. I may not have succeeded yet, I may never be as famous as I aspire to be. But will that stop me from dreaming, from being hopeful, that someday my hard work will pay off? The answer is a very simple no. I will always take a step forward since I believe every step that ends in failure, somehow also ends up in taking me one step closer to my success.
It’s all about perspective. If I were to stop and reflect on a moment or even an event in my life that I would slow down, it would have to be all those that gave me pleasure,happiness, unexpected joy. I would sit back and enjoy, even savour those moments, knowing that I have the power to replay, pause and relive them. The first time I fell in love, that first kiss, the first time I set eyes on my children and knew that no matter what, this bond with them would never ever break.
What would I fast forward? All those unpleasant,sad moments, encounters with people who hurt my feelings, I would make them disappear in the blink of an eye.
Find a Muse in the Masters
As the last few breaths left his body, his eyes still played that scene,
The last time he had seen her, all those years ago,
Those luscious lips, ah that sultry smile,
The soft red silk dress that clung to her,
How happy she pretended to be and yet those eyes,
Those dark, deep keepers of her soul,
How those eyes had stolen a glance,
Begged him, cajoled him even,
Called out for help,
If only he had heeded his heart,
Thrown caution to the wind and proceeded to win her heart,
Maybe fate would have given them a chance,
Maybe the coming dawn would have led to a new start,
As he lay there motionless he heard her cry one last time,
The tiniest of whisper that said ‘rest now my love’…
It is funny how some events from the past stick in your memory so clearly as though you were watching them in HD and yet others even though you try and recall, even your own younger self is fuzzy. Through this constant haze of past, one is forever tormented with the what ifs and the whys. And then there is the feeling of deja vu. Where does that come from? Nobody but me has lived my life before me and yet that one moment seems as though hang on, I have been in this place before and I know what I am going to say and I know what the other person will reply. But if it is happening now, why or how do I know what they will say?