At first single life was panic attacks and crushing loneliness. It felt shameful. It felt like failure and rejection. It felt as if society had labelled me defective. Yet when, after days that became months and years, I had found my calm and peaceful centre, there was a new perspective. The universe was giving me time to heal, healing that was all the faster for the lack of old negative influences. It gave me time to learn how to rise from such a challenge and trust myself. It gave me time to grow in confidence and grow in psychological maturity. It gave me time to become kinder to others who find themselves in peril and difficulty. And so, though the flames were hot and the ashes so very cold, I did arise with more wisdom, more courage and greater resolve. I appreciate myself more. I appreciate others more. Panic attacks are no more. Lonely feelings transformed into a confident contentment with solitude. Failure became chances to learn new ways of living and behaving. Shame was a label I tool off and burnt because it was never mine. "Defective" became comprehendible as scars from trauma - scars inflicted and survived; I learned to see them as part of my proper functionality, of a reasonable response to hardship. And so, after time, the single life became lovely. A partner could become a welcome luxury, an addition to an already good life. I can love with more freedom, with loving arms that are capable letting go, of standing back and seeing the other person for who they are too. Gone is the fire and ice, the push and pull of trauma. Now there is passion, yet without the panic of yesteryear.
His focus was scattered, so filled with nervous anticipation was he, so excited, even giddy. He couldn't hold a conversation or sit still while his thoughts danced in infinite directions. Yet he had to get through the day in one piece. He met Mairead last Tuesday at a wedding and this, he hoped, was their first date. He could picture it already - holding hands, a tingling feeling spreading throughout his entire body. He would take her for a walk through the park and count the ducks; it seemed the most natural thing in all the world. And she, his special girl.
When social peace is fragile, when negative chaos reigns, when fear rises and violence flares, it is wise to look at the emotions on each side that bring the various narratives forth. For when one does this, the emotionality of all, even of apparently opposing forces, is the same. As humans we all seek respect and acknowledgement that we are considered sacred and important by others, that we are accepted by wider society. This is normal. This is human. And so the first step to restore social peace is for all interest groups to see the emotionality of other interest groups instead of the narrative. Once a bond is formed at this level a new nuanced way forwards will weave itself. This is the way of love. This is what happens when we take love as our supreme first principle and work our way forwards. There are ways to love everyone, to respect everyone and to preserve culture that is important to everyone. And when we are brave enough to explore those pathways, we unleash positive chaos, the only real antidote to negative chaos. This is when order is restored, the natural kind that feels free and safe.
That the financial system enables the privileged to prey on the disadvantaged is obvious, but the fact that it enables the "elders" to prey on the younger generation is the real kicker. You can either support or exploit others, to chase greed in the money-nexus or embrace ways of loving... it is a choice.
The first recorded "English man" from ten thousand years ago had blue eyes, black skin and dark hair, skin didn't become more pale until later. So perhaps as we think of racism we can let those facts sink in. Black is actually the original skin colour of this island. We are all related, and for the most part, a lot more closely than modern culture teaches.
Your easy smiles and gentle teasings strung my heart and blinded my eyes. I overlooked your veering lies and shady actions and glanced the other way when you enjoyed the company of other women more than mine, convincing myself that it was merely the green eyed monster rearing its ugly head. But when you strayed, I knew for sure that you took me for a mindless fool. You made a mockery of my love and blamed me for your straying.
You abused my innocent love and cut off the happy strings of my heart.
You aren't worth my time or even a fleeting thought; you are a bad story and I choose to only read good ones.
Upon the bus, upon that chariot of crimson, we sat shoulder to shoulder.
The city air is fresh this day, almost sweet and floral as the pace of living relaxes to a steadier rhythm.
A widowed wife. A mother of two. Living in a country of chaos. She lives in a scattered pile of concrete held together by fractured planks of wood. Trying to survive in a country that wants everyone dead. Seeking refuge in any broken, run-down house that is still standing. Living every moment of her life in constant fear of death for herself and her children.
Against the dark night sky all Steve could see was the crumbling walls that were nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of some previous existence. The wind whistled through the trees bringing with it the laughter of children who once lived there and the caring call of a mother letting them know dinner was ready.
Vividly he could picture his childhood. The walls didn’t seem so grey when he was only a boy, nor did they seem so small. In his mind he pictured this place as though it were a castle where he and his brother were the Princes. His mother and father would glide through the once pristine halls, the King and Queen of their kingdom. He felt like no time had passed since he moved from this house, yet as he gazed upon the overgrown bushes and the shattered windows it was evident just how wrong he was.
