Presence

Breath in. 5…4…3…2…one I saw a nix sitting on a branch of a fig tree, dipping her toes into the stream of water below her. creating ripples that waned and faded. She looked sad on this beautiful Armenian night, perhaps it was the shadow she carried that whispered chaos in her mind.

Breath out. 1…2..3.4 five, every living creature has a mind, and is therefore equally important. The Owl on the spitz of the old fig was not more relevant than the Nix, and my life is worth the same as hers. I wondered if she could have been sad because the presence of the moon on this night was divine and she wished she could bottle up the milky way and the falling stars, or she wasn’t mindful enough to realise she was more than the feelings she allowed to overwhelm her thoughts;

the state if mind where she wanted the night to schatter into broken shards, prick her skin so she could feel her life force… or anything really. swallow her whole and drop her off the face of the earth.

She couldn’t speak stillness to the old fig, or reach out to touch the elusive moon. The lines between her reality and her reflection were blurred by a spurring internal conflict that could be solved by a drop of presence.

On this beautiful Armenian night I crouched next to her and told her to live in the moment, exactly how it was, listening to her heart beat, not wanting more or expecting less. Every day nature weaves a balance of subtle miracles before our ever dreaming eyes. If we’re lucky, our hearts can capture every butterfly smile our irises have yet to see.

The Garden

It’s the beginning of yet another week, I know

I know the dark calls to you sometimes

I know you walk down roads you know you shouldn’t

I know you observe your reflection through a jumble of shards

I know you’re worn out, tired of reliving patterns of painful choices

I sense you feel hollow at times

like life is teasing you, dancing in front of you,

but escaping you somehow

i know you live in the disconnect between where you are

and what’s happening outside of you

i know how much it hurts to live there, in the divide

between what you feel you are, and what you wish you could be

The sun has kissed your skin and you have inhaled it with complete trust

and you sometimes move without knowing what’s next

at times it feels paralysing to live with yourself.

I know you’ve worked so hard to control the outcome of your life

that you forget to meet yourself in the quiet and breath yourself full again

that you live in the shallow end and you forget to go deep,

breath deep ujjayi

you forget there is wealth of abundance and trust in you

i know there are places in yourself that you do not love

the parts you wrestle away

you visit them them from time to time, hoping they’re not there

i know you long to live in bliss

and when you arrive there you are so alive as if everything around you

is telling you yes, you’re home.

but i know shadows come while you’re asleep

and drag you down the familiar landscape of fear

I know you wonder if the light will ever return

because you’re tired of this upbeat dance between the two worlds.

you’re learning to taste heaven, grown wings

you’re accepting the difference

between sun soaked mornings and dark forests

you are human my dear and are allowed to be in both places

you are not damaged

you are not failing

you are allowed to be lost in dark rivers

be gentle when doubt comes, when fear chokes

when darkness debilitates you

spend special care to cultivate the garden of love when you come across these dark corridors.

know that you are offered the chance to tend your garden

the dark offers you a chance to love all the places you’d never dare

all the places you curse

where we deprive ourselves of love is where we need it most

when the dark comes , tell it what it what it wants so badly to hear,

You are loved.

Intuition

Settled down at the glance and the thought of life

Felt currents like electric spark from my core

Isolation center around a waking surge

A vibration that propels into the throat chakra.

Keep the energy inconspicuous, never swaying to either poles

Your throat will either absorb the impulses

or it may continue it’s journey towards the chest

The hollow cave of intuition, where your heart lies

Oh, what a feeling of radiating emotions

knit and knock in your bones and joint space there after

Your heart weighs with a message from the universe

while your charitable heart banishes it to the bowels

Metabolism fastens or sluggers, then settles

between the groins, a belt tightens around hips and lower back

Feel the moon spread across the sky’s edges

dare to subtract the edge it has over you

For people who sense the slightest imbalances,

energies of the galaxy and of kindred

may sound abnormal, but is it really?

dubbed empaths or highly sensitive, for whatever reason

For us the full moon is more like a reckoning

Anything but smooth sailing it is

feelings too scary to explore, spur up

the dark side of my soul bullies me to submission

Yell as you wish, the influence grows worse

like a family reunion, where the black sheep is king

spritz me with venom and engulfs me whole

Until I am gurgling on it’s dark influence

Neptune knows, intuition cannot be bargained with

gifts dreams you can sip with your soul out a straw

or sardonic skies that taunts you at your weakest

But when my forehead kisses the ground,

every turmoil is hushed in universal harmony

I love to

I love to

echo with my wading breath

like fireflies in a foggy night

it never stirs me wrong

I love to

immerse into the sensations of my body

My chest rise and falls

My hands are open to nurturing

I love to

strike my heels on dust

let my muscles grow fatigue

true strength is found within

I love to

dissect ideas and stories

to instigate unimaginable scenarios

when caressing the keys yields art

I love to

press my eyelids against each other

Only then will life reveal itself

then the world melts into something wondrous

I love to

notice the synergy of vibrating energies

It is neither created nor destroyed

it merely changes state like matter

I love to

invite love into my heart

give more than receive

Abundance is a choice after all

I love to

relish on the future

simplicity is in life and it’s questions

why worry about  the unknown?

I love to

connect with my one  true father

The keeper of my  peace

Wisdom pours through him

I love to

make fun of my spongy bunny

I look at him him and suddenly

life becomes  a lot less serious

There are too many things l love

like soaking in a bath with amazing scents,

or talking with my love

These blessings are copious and innumerable.

I’d love it if you decide to share this post to your social media circle. Love and Peace. Idara.

The awakening

Most times I prefer that it become adaptable to the audience by letting you read meaning into it, but this one is personal.

We’ve had to deal with our fare share of insecurities in a way that’s unique to us. Ergo, no two war stories will ever be the same.

After a scheduled coffee date this week,  I was forced to stare at myself  in the  mirrored hall and I couldn’t help but Thank God, because I saw myself for how beautiful I truly was.

Before then I made futile attempts to not look at myself because all I saw was a grimy shadow of imperfections. I thank God for my journey thus far. I thank him for the courage to love myself the way he intended.

 

 

Don’t look at me

for I wear shame like a crown

worthy of thorns

worthy of scorn

worthy of everything, but mercy

 

The person I saw the other day

she looked back at me with vulnerability

so I mocked her for being weak

I mocked her for I knew she has much shame

exactly as much as I have

 

In the day time I yearn for worthiness

the worth of love and belonging

An impression I never fanthomed

the abyss that leaves me empty and dry

Drowning in a sardonic rash 

 

And I searched for it in her

for forthnights and moonsons

for decades and eras

for milleniums and eons

till I was emptier and drier

 

It drove me crazy

For in many men the courage  existed

I went astray connecting deeper with her psyche

and  she had no compassion for me

just like I had none for her

 

So I laid there pleading

I grew numb. My teeth  bleeding

I could tell she was scared of me

but her shame kept her locked  away

in iron clad glates

 

In her eyes a glimmer of compassion

Her voice chocked with hope

Hope was all I needed

to reveal her courage

and rid her fear.

 

I began to tell her

everything she is good at

I was beginning to see it

even if the world didn’t

Yes I see it!

 

Then did she rise and break the fetters

I thought she would smite me

I couldn’t blame her

yet her eyes gleamed with empathy

She rescued me, like Heracles did Theseus

 

 

She cleaned me up

she took my hand

we walked together

out of the seat of witness

I have never felt worth until now

 

This is what vulnerability feels like

I formed ground-breaking connections

These all happened while she sat cross-legged on a  mat

chanting in deep breaths;

I am enough!

 

 

 

Amphetamine City

The tires of the bus screech loudly as it rolls to a stop. I awake from my deep slumber, rubbing my eyes… I blink, staring through the window, but the streetlights only reflects back a dimly lit park in the dark night.I tilted my head up to view the digital clock above the passageway, 00.10 it read and minutes later, the conductor comes through.I recalled asking him about 6 hrs earlier how long the bus ride was.He halts beside me, “Ma’am, we’ve reached the final stop, you will need to exit here” then tipping his hat, his voice lowers, “farewell” then he continues past me. I let out a soft yawn as I dragged my baggage from under the seats, getting up. I stepped out into the cold night; at long last, It’s amphetamine city.

He halts beside me, “Ma’am, we’ve reached the final stop, you will need to exit here” then tipping his hat, his voice lowers, “farewell” then he continues past me. I let out a soft yawn as I dragged my baggage from under the seats, getting up. I stepped out into the cold night; at long last, It’s amphetamine city.

 

Twenty minutes later, the Uber pulls up at the farm house and I walk up to the door. I press and listen to the loud clunk of the bell from within. I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I hear the footsteps closing in around the door.It swings ajar and my beloved aunt Fontane stands at the opposite side of the welcome mat wearing a broad grin on her face, which sorta made me start to smile. Her lips parted “welcome home Alexander” she started stepping aside from the doorway; “welcome to amphetamine city”.

I stepped into the grand parlor, memories of my prepubertal years flooded my brain, like the time I ran up those never ending stairs, slipped and broke my early incisor.It felt great being back being back here; yet strangely unsettling, like something was wrong.

“well hello there darling”, I was swayed from my thoughts by an airy voice.My neck reverts back to the stairs. The silhouette of a lady posing on the top, her lips were thin with dark tan nevi around her neck.She wore her hair in an updo and the V-neck flowing top seemed to accentuate her long neck. I noticed the color flow into her cheeks. It was Aluna, I was ecstatic, perhaps because I am proud of the woman she was becoming. She fastened down the stairs, twirling across the room towards me

“Now that we’re all here ” interrupted Fontane “let’s have dinner”.

Dinner was a big celebratory feast, after which we all went outside and a bonfire was started.My grandmom simply referred to as “Nana” sat adjacent to me outside as we silently watched the fire grow and ashy debris fall from the smoke.

“What is it that brought you back” Nana finally ended the silence. I remained mute “What is it?” she relented.

“I just enjoy this place” I splurged ….”but it doesn’t feel like home”.

 

******

amphet

 

Months flew by, but the overall dynamic of the house was destabilized, our grand feasts quickly reduced to weeks old bread and lukewarm water.Even the crops were wilting. “what is going on?” Aluna exclaimed, extremely vexed, thumping hard on the bed, her head supported by her wrists.I lowered myself in front of her, pushing all of my weight onto my forefoot. I felt bad.

” I can make this all go away”, I tell her “I could make you happy again”

“how?” she asks in awe

“This place, you, Fontana, are merely figments of my imagination, I could rewrite this whole script” I pause “and then I could leave, forever”

 

she wipes her face “you never told me why you came back”

“I needed a safe house, somewhere I was familiar with— but I can’t stay here”

“well if you do leave, who wins?” she asks

I blink ” No one I suppose”.

Climb onto the highest building top.Inhale deeply and watch as the peasant scurry to the call of their master. Now shut your eyes, tightly, You’re almost here…..it’s Amphetamine City. 

 

Amphetamine city is the continuation of Yellow Roses, these stories portrays the never-ending journey towards self discovery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zenitude

That one over there,

She doesn’t really talk much you know; just sits there, scribbling into that ugly notebook pretending to read meaning into the life’s essence.

There has to be a reason; probably not a good one.

memiors 18

The sun rays splash across my face, beating me with heat as I lay in my hammock, a smile beaming across my face because my eyes are hidden behind these sunglasses, protected from all these shades.

Never been good at communicating; don’t know it, neither did I learn it. I know; I know, most people don’t learn it, they just inherently develop it innit?

It’s not “forming” as they call it, I am simply a student and  I prefer to observe and study life.If I seem alone and mysterious; It is because I silently reflect; so again I am not being evasive, but simply exploring behavior patterns.People have a fascinating hierarchy in life, however, I chose which subjects fascinates me enough to retain my presence and I simply do not care for others.

That I do not care for a subject is not a  reflection of their being and doesn’t mean a damn thing.It shouldn’t matter because a lot of others would prove to find value in them.

I have a knack for getting into my own head more often than most do.It’s more than a welcome visit; I live here now, my sanctum if you will, but like every other environment, It can get overwhelming.So I constructed these walls to keep the sun out and guard my skin, tending to my sanctum and nursing my sunburns. I reinforced these walls, shield myself from the dysfunctional world and by doing so, I fortify the side of me people simply believe to be, unaffectionate.

Turns out, I have mastered the act of zenitude, yielding from the tree of quiescence, finding an ally in it’s solitude and pure energy.If you’re wondering if it’s worth it, I’ll ask; does skin peel after a sunburn?

In the absolutely uninspired, biased lyrics of Nicki Minaj,”I give zero fucks; and I’ve got zero chill in me”.