hold on to me, don’t

a divine curse?
a mind bursting to give birth to stars and galaxies
a heart too timid to crowd the world
In between the two, a will that wax and wanes like the moon

and like the moon, swims through darkness

my fear of dying ironically kills my will to live
my ego must dissolve like a cocoon , for my soul to be born
In between the two, the tide of suffering rises in me but never allows its waves to reach the shore

for i always drown my hope at the last moment before dawn
so i can pretend that he was only a flimsy, fleeting dream
buried at the sea of my heart

Figures

I won’t stand in the way of your commitment to your narratives of the world
your insistence on expecting gloomy affairs and distrustful gestures
when my love, so so pure and timeless has enveloped you in prose and prayers
and will continue to ring true for as long as my soul lives

you’ve been nothing but good,lord, your soul is lined with the finest thread

but it’s been like the sword of Damocles dangling over the peaceful moments
knowing that you’ll be ok with me as long as I don’t make sudden moves
i don’t feel safe

i love and live outside the box
i don’t mind being messy and foolish and everything I would be in the dark, alone
i cannot grow in the shade of fear
i didn’t sacrifice my comfort zones only to land in yours

i didn’t choose for love to take root in me this way
i tried to uproot it , but each time I did, my hands returned bloodied with strands of veins ripped from my heart
it’s my cross to bear, and i won’t put it on you

just know why I wave from afar, why my smiles are vague and never reach my eyes because i don’t want you to see the state of my soul

until you’ve been coloured by your darkness, you won’t understand mine

to have known someone I’ve been praying for for years, only to have to let go
lord, i don’t know what i did wrong, but i trust my silent suffering will blossom into more of me

“This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!”

burn the safe house down

After a lifelong resistance to my truth, I’ve finally realized that there’s no way to remove the pain from the path without removing my purpose along with it. There’s no harbour safe enough from the storms meant to move me. There is no one strong enough to protect me from my fears. There is no path hidden enough to cover my flight from my shadows.

I’m letting the momentum of a lifetime of escapism run through me. Gradually the ground beneath me becomes steady to hold my wobbly legs. When you live in fear, you live on a narrow linear plane of life. Everything is dark, flat, cold. No colours, no sunsets, no rainbows.

In my eagerness to get away from horror, I got away from the tonic that would strengthen the lining of my heart. But the fact that I was led back to my path and allowed to recover what I tried to evade points to the fact that there’s a greater order in place, one nothing can perturb.

I can’t edit life. I can’t omit the unsettling interludes where I’m no longer but I’m not yet. I can’t change the filters on rainy days. I can’t cancel storms. I shouldn’t have to because life isn’t a product to be consumed, to be amused by. It’s supposed to be an intimate interaction where experiences bring me closer to myself. Some plants only grow through forest fires. And my soul is the phoenix that comes alive through the ashes of who I thought I was.

 

soul waves ❤

Loneliness is when you’re alienated from yourself

Solitude carries a negative connotation because perhaps we associate confinement and death to it

We were alone in the womb, and we’ll be alone in the tomb

So perhaps we want to break out of our corporal shell and be free by following our impulses

Perhaps we think that as long as we avoid ourselves, we avoid death

As if death can only meet us when we’re conscious.

Or we erroneously believe that solitude entails isolation, and that we either belong to a group or we dwell in solitude.

Continue Reading

self-conformity

To stand on a mountain top overlooking the world you have to carry your weight climbing.

From my window seat on a flight to the UK, 2015

It’s easier to be carried, to just show up and follow guidelines set down for you. It’s easier to work a 9-5 with a steady salary and no ambiguities, than to go at it alone as self-employed. It’s easier to choose a career path that’d give you financial security, than to pursue your passions for which there is no security. It’s easier to stick with your current circle of friends because you grew up with them or got to know them through school, than it is to branch off and befriend people selectively, risking long interludes of loneliness. It’s easier to marry the first good person you meet, than it is to risk valuable years holding off marriage until you meet the one (for whom there is no guarantee).

Trying to recreate your dreams and follow your intuition fetches a very high price: that you let go of conventional wisdom and the support of the majority. Your dreams, especially in the beginning stages, are unique to you and therefore alien to most people. You can’t be validated for something that the majority don’t even recognize. Going your own path involves many a dark night of the soul, crippling doubt and hopelessness. However, these initial difficulties, if you persevere through them, prepare you for the journey of your life. It’s not easy to birth something unique and new. It’s not easy to introduce something to society that will ruffle some feathers. It’s not easy to challenge the status quo. So before you achieve your goals, you have to evolve into someone strong enough to be able to carry those goals. This is the reason why self-actualization remains a mysterious dream for most. Between pursuing what is guaranteed and what’s nominally recognized, and betting your all on a void outside your comfort zone, well. Establishments are based on convincing people to abdicate their self-agency by offering to “take care” of their needs, in exchange of their obedience. Any power structure depends on siphoning individuality off the masses. It’s presented as this shameful path taken by ne’er-do-wellers and because belonging is such a crucial human need, this is more than enough of a deterrent for people to stave off whatever inner desires pulls them towards a similar path.

What kills dreams, what clouds inspiration, what makes ideas seem outlandish isn’t the trends and norms. It’s you. Your doubts drain your self-belief. Your cynicism poisons the well of hope. When you pay heed to others projection of negativity and insecurity on you, you let yourself know that others bs is more believable than your dreams. Your inability to protect your hope and dreams is like a bird mother building the babies nest too close to the ground where they can be reached by rowdy kids or predators. You have to put your back into it! You get back what you’ve invested. If you do things half-assedly don’t be disappointed when the outcome reflects your efforts.

You have to remove the armors you built to protect yourself disappointment and ‘I told you so’s . You have to be raw and vulnerable with yourself. You have to know and believe that you’re worth the risk, you’re worth walking away from everything that stifles you, you’re worth the most outrageous dreams. You can’t both nurture yourself and protect your fears.

Like I mentioned in the beginning, going at it alone means a whole lot of moving bits and responsibility. But if you can come to terms with the tedious work and taking full responsibility of your life, this also means that there is no cap to how far you can go with your ambition. Since no one has your back, no one can hold you back. So go on, scale the mountains while people are content tumbling down hills.

My Constitution

​Tonight, I free myself.

I’ve never known life by the halves. My curiosity would make me go too far, my boldness would make me go too fast. Intense soul I am. I have a microscopic lens, and a telescopic vision. I see too far and too closely for my own good. For years and year I tried to sit still in the crammed space of expectations and norms. Lord knows how much I tried to fit in. 
Suffocated and bruised, I decided this was no way to live. 

I’m often caught in between my empathy and my eccentricity: the latter often putting me at odds with people who are taken aback by the weirdness of it all. My reading someone’s thoughts and feelings to them, or calling them out on something, or asking weird questions at 4 am like ‘ if you had to choose between cutting off your thumb or eating your faeces, what would you do?
 So without knowing, I find myself dialling back, tuning out, mincing my words, figdeting, squirming in my seat. Before I know it, I feel a knot in my throat, my jaws clenched, my breathing shallow. I can’t write or BE me because I get lost in a flurry of self-doubt and what-ifs and overthinking. Whatever I do or say comes out lifeless and stripped of authenticity.
So.*inhale deeply* tonight I give myself official permission to be as vulgar and unstable and pissed off and funny and sad and rude as my truth at any given moment demands of me. That just as I don’t shy away from standing for what I believe in, or risking my all for love, or going into the darkness of the unknown — so will I not shy away from being as authentic as I genuinely think or feel in the moment. 

Because in between the hiccups and hisses lie the rare moments that I would never be able to foresee, and that would be etched on my dying mind as my best. And I really don’t want to miss out on those because I was afraid that someone behind a screen somewhere would think something of me. 

*exhale*

the demiurge

Somalia was once a land, welcoming, receptive,supportive
It’d sprout only the best, and only the best was returned to it
But when the soil became soaked with hatred and the rain clouds became pregnant with anger, it gave rise to people whose souls were infertile
Unable to give or receive love
So the earth pushed out what remained it could of the good people, and the seeds were scattered all over the globe, to save what’s left of Somalia
Its essence nestled in the hearts of children, the budding resurrection
For very long I was confused about where my roots belonged
Torn in between two continents
My soul belonging to the Nordic chill, and thawed by my East African temperament
I recently realized that life’s flow brought me here not so I can spread my roots
But so that my heart can mature and pollinate the world
So that one day, the entire world will become a welcoming, receptive, supportive land for all

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