Patience and Gratitude

omar

If patience were a camel
And gratitude were a camel
I would not care which one
I ride on
– Omar Ibn Al-Khattab

I wish people truly internalised the significance of this saying. I wish it didn’t need explanation for the majority of people. Some will take the superficial beauty and run with it. But it is so much more. I wont explain my internalisation of it, that’s mine alone but I encourage you to spend more than a minute. Spend an hour with this quote and read it over and over again until you find it.
-W.E.

The Elixir 18 – Mockery Poverty

the elixir 18

The person who finds solace in mocking others, suffers from an intellectual poverty that cannot be alleviated save through one means only, a humiliation that knows no beginning or end, silence and abandonment.

Their bitterness leaves them alone and desperate. They cannot grasp concepts, truths, divinity, see anything further than their nose’s appraisal, their ego’s lure, so they therefore ridicule what they cannot understand.

To let someone in your life is such a sacred offering and people don’t value it, nor honour its sacredness.

People just walk into your house, your domain with soiled boots, eat from your plate, spit in it, sully your wash place and walk out leaving a stench inside that never goes away.

Think twice about attacking someone’s very personal sacredness, especially if they offered you the trust to enter.

I’m at the end of my wit, with less than a handful of people I can trust with my mind, my heart, my soul. People that don’t litter inside of me or for lack of better vernacular, people that don’t waltz in and take a shit on the carpet of my soul.

-W.E.

Dear Australia

aboriginal flag

Dear Australia,

I am sorry, I am not donning the red white and blue today.
This in no way or form makes me an ingrate to the privilege I have enjoyed growing up in this country.

This makes me a human, in full working capacity, able to acknowledge truths when they stand above him, when they stare him in the face in the back alley of his soul.

I can’t take those truths on no matter how hard I try and it is not because of lack of ability to intellectualise, theorise, philosophise or fantasise, whatever one of those ‘ise’ I implore, they are misdirection, misspelling of one word, LIES.

I am big, I am strong and I am secure in my convictions. I am faithful, I am honest and I am kind to my fellow man. I have a heart and I have a soul and I certainly have a mind and they all direct me to put my fists down, to submit my mind, to squeeze my heart and to hold my breath as I dive into oceans of truths that lay secrets buried under beds of atrocities anchored to the history of what makes this country.

I am ashamed. I am not of white descendants. I am not of European colonialist background, my ancestors had nothing to do with the genocide of the original custodians of this land, but I am still ashamed and the burden of guilt grows more and more as I age.

My own people have faced persecution too. For over one hundred years, white supremacy aims to drill into the heart, to burn the fabric of our cultures too. We’ve experienced genocide in the thousands of millions, uncountable numbers for no reason than also being custodians of land that contains valuable resources, that is conveniently in the way of their money pursuits, politics being the scapegoats for the reality of pure greed, brown skin the marketing medium to justify their propaganda push to kill people, human beings, people with cultures and heritages thousands and thousands of years old.

So my Aboriginal brethren, I feel your anguish, never in the manner that can be materialised into the raw emotion that I witness on your beautiful faces, but I feel something. I can’t raise a thumbs up on this day, I can’t raise my eyes from the floor, I share your mourn. I share your sadness. I taste the bitterness that lingers without a sweetness to numb it ever. The taste becoming the familiar flavour forcing an inability to palate anything else.

Please accept my apology for not doing enough, not feeling enough, not knowing enough and being oblivious to anything but myself for all these years.

To God we belong and to God we return, collectively in front of Him will we be stripped naked of our hypocritical clothes, of our oppressor skin, of our privileged flesh and our sullied bones.

There with nothing but our souls, will the court room doors be flung open and in front Him will there be one witness to put us away, to close the trial on us. Our souls will testify against us and we will all pay for that guilt. The laws of nature are the laws of God, there can be no semantic outbursts of fanciness around this. The nomenclature of the soul will bare witness, it’s time humanity became familiar with that nomenclature, to perhaps spare itself the trial that awaits it, the perpetual torment that will haunt us when the trumpet is blown.

Forgive me

Wes

p.s.

This article is one of the best I have read. Do yourself a favour. Put down the beers, the flags and the barbecue tongs. Read something and learn.

http://islaminaustralia.com/2013/09/10/the-first-encounter-between-muslim-people-and-the-aboriginal-australians-key-note-address-by-patrick-dodson/

Introversion Impulses – 1

The only way for me to connect with you is to disconnect from myself, now that can’t happen, it’s taken me this long to get some current running through my veins, to find a stillness in a swamp bed where all my pungency can lay dormant, and you, with your optimistic rays of sunshine want to disturb all that, bring to surface stenches that I had buried, awaken angels that I slayed, who slayed my demons, who slayed my soul, who slayed the me, the I, the carnality of breath, the inhalation of certainty, the rigidity of polarity, that space in between, I created it, I ploughed its fields and toiled its soil until it became soft enough to nestle there and all you want to do is bring those poles together, light my extremities with union, voltify my mind until it burns to a crumb, what little of it left there is, you with your happiness want to bring a smile to my face, for what, what possible reason, why, who sent you, what do you want from me, you lie, you have ulterior motives, I don’t believe you, leave me alone, I’m fine, I can’t breath with you in the room, I created this room with just enough space, enough oxygen for one, you’ll die being in here with me…. away, away, away, can’t you see my act of kindness?
-W.E.


The above will be my new series on introversion.
The last post for the introversion series was introversion thirty. Short poems, anecdotes, musings, thoughts etc. I may continue another series but for now, the new format will be impulsive, immediate thoughts.
Whenever I get a chance I will pen it, in the above style, unbroken, with little regard for punctuation, grammar or writing rules. They will be exactly as you see them, random, raw and real and time sensitive. They cannot be conjured and planned. They will just be expunged. I hope you enjoy.

-W.E.

Introversion – thirty

introversion302

Were it not for the spectacle of extroversion,
I would have committed suicide a long time ago.
But there are no creative ways to die that have
inspired me yet.

So I died on the outside, to the world I am dead,
 and live on abundantly, on inside instead.

-W.E.

It would be much easier to leave me be,
Forget my existence, ignore your attempts at civility.
Don’t question yourself, with your soul plea,
Ignore your heart, get off your knees.

I’m numb to it all, I don’t feel anything more,
I’m struggling even, my children to adore.
I’m barren and empty, stricken and sore,
I have no enigma, I have no lore.

Nothing to offer, nothing to take,
No heart swell, no heart ache.
Mindless and cold, still as a lake,
Slumber escapes me, forever awake.

-W.E.

Introversion – twenty nine

introversion29

I’m in a long term relationship
With myself
-W.E.

Another day goes by and I realise that I am in this for the long haul
The only way to go on is to ride it out until the destination
I’m my own spouse, my pair, my soul mate
No divorce papers will served
There’s no prenuptial
I own all of me
The only way to divorce is to stop breathing
Even there, I wont escape myself, death will not do me part.

-W.E.

Sight

86cb1a3b01a6669b56ff8c8e507bb57f

It suddenly daunted me
Maybe not all men see
-W.E.

And all this time, I thought they saw what I saw, understood what I did,
and I am a mere simpleton, not complicated, subtle in my ways.
But slow yourself, subtlety is not detached from conviction.
Conviction is not arrogance,
Surety is not deafness,
It seems their blindness has metastasised to their hearts.
Their eyes work fine,
But their hearts remain blind.
The vision I speak of,
Is of this kind,
Not eyes attached to your mind,
The one inside your chest, you find,
Pumps vision to every cell in you.
-W.E.