You’ll find it where it hurts most to look

ReviewCaffeine coursed veins

Lead to empty hall brains

With no lights on

But echoes of chains

The pains, the strains

The soul drained.

No we’re not at all insane

Just wanting higher plains

Trying to leave our mark, our stain

Not wanting to be contained

Trying to unshackle

The rein

Until none of me remains

And my ego does not complain

My spirit can soar, unrestrained

My attention to The Real

Not the profane, not the mundane

And I no longer feign

-ME

On men and women

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Men who are doormats deserve women who step on them.
It is unbecoming of a grown man to allow any woman destroy herself or himself with incessant infringement of his rights.
It is unbecoming and classless of a woman to stoop and lose her self respect by disrespecting her husband.

A wife’s stature only increases, the love for her compounds and the world lays at her feet dependent on the level of manners and etiquette she executes in the most trivial of matters through to the most vital.

A man’s respect and awe for him, only increases by having a sensible and noble firmness of conviction in all matters. Lack of confidence and belief in oneself is unattractive as is egotism and arrogance. The balance is fine and takes an artist of wisdom to know the limits of both without being meek.

This is why the single most important thing in this day and age of being bereft of timeless values, for both males and females to do is to culture themselves with the arts, wisdom, the sciences, religious and sacred knowledge and all intricate details of all the physical, emotional, spiritual and mental.
Practising a technique makes one a master of it.
Practise culturing yourself.

F**K BEAUTY

She nailed this one!

chanyado

When you can’t write what you need to write, you write what you can. I want to write about…

That new Dove ad is absurdly symbolic. Women in five cities around the world are made to choose one of two doors in order to enter a space. The entries are labelled ‘Beautiful’ or ‘Average’. There seems to be no other way to gain access to the building. Your physical appearance is your only admission. Choose beautiful Dove says. F**K that.

My sister looked radiant tonight. I don’t know if I have ever seen her glow like this. When she made her entrance into the hall, mischief captured her and she threw her hennaed hands up in the air, her intricately brown laced hands swirling through the air as she danced. Little dried flecks sprinkled off her hands like black confetti. Later my father, handsome in his turquoise blue sherwani interrupted…

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Kindness trumps intelligence.

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Jeff Bezos recounted a story where he was taught a lesson by his grandfather. You can read the story here or watch it here but the gist of it is, he was being a clever young man when he happened to use his wit in a harmful way. His grandfathers words to him were:

“Jeff, one day you’ll understand that it’s harder to be kind than clever.”

For three days now those words have haunted me. Every now and then you read or hear something that rattles your bones or stops you dead in your tracks. Upon hearing those words, I took one of those deep sighs like when someone smacks you a good one in the thorax. My heart felt heavy and breathing slowed right down as I put myself on trial.

How often I let my intellect beat my forbearance, overcome my mercy or hold hostage my kindness only for it to be let loose like a rabid dog gnawing at someone else’s inability to retort back or playing a silly tit for tat should they be a worthy adversary.

I felt so bad for all the fights I’ve had, verbally or electronically.

It daunted upon me how rotten we are as humans, using ‘gifts’ as Jeff calls them to our detriment. Using intelligence to put someone else down, using intelligence to garner a favourable position even though it may not be honourable or imbued with integrity.

Why do we place so much emphasis on intelligence and so little on kindness? Would you rather a spouse or partner that could prove the sky is pink to you with philosophical rants ad nauseam or would you prefer a person shrouded in kindness and mercy? Is intelligence really that attractive when put in that light?

How many a husband or wife have used their intelligence to cut through the marital fabric, the carefully evolved tapestry of love between a couple that has survived the ages?

How many a daughter has spoken ill of her mother because she doesn’t fit into her social construct of what it means to be a woman, forgetting the kindness and patience her mother afforded her as she developed and was allowed the freedom to develop into the person she now arrogantly displays to the world as sophisticated and powerful?

How many a father has shattered the dreams of his son when he longed to build things with his hands when instead he was forced into a field he bore no passion towards.

The examples can pour on forever, but the take home message is, put yourself on trial and think about the things you’ve said to win an argument, to appear cool, intelligent, gather attention or rise to a position by using your intelligence and your gifts in a negative way then account yourself and make amends. Apologise, return the rights of the person, seek forgiveness, vow to change, apply yourself by the maxim of ‘Unless you have nothing good to say, then remain silent’. In the words of the noble Prophet Muhammad,

“Be kind, for whenever kindness becomes part of something, it beautifies it. Whenever it is taken from something, it leaves it tarnished.”

I’ve watched oldie a few times and I still get pleasure out of it every time.

The life dilemma

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There’s a conundrum concocting in the cauldron,

It’s the most real and visceral recipe known to man.

It makes takes life and supercharges it,

Gives it an overdose of steroids,

Rocket boosters even.

Nothing on earth makes you feel more alive than death.

Perhaps why the Prophet reminded us to make much remembrance of the destroyer of pleasures.

That conundrum brews a mighty stew,

Burns the belly of the beast,

But it’s hard to digest.

On writing.

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Franz Kafka said to his adoring Fiance

You once said that you would like to sit beside me while I write. Listen, in that case I could not write at all. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is in his right mind. That is why one can never be alone enough when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.

Yes, this true! I agree wholeheartedly with him. Any writer that needs an audience to complete his work is a show pony, not a stallion of the desert of words.