It occurred to me quite late in life what belief is, and i am still on my way of completely allowing myself to believe, that i believe me. No matter how fundamental the concept is, i keep revising it for most part of the time of my day, daily. It was a struggle at the beginning but now its an idea, waiting to be turned into a habit. Its a deliberate effort of a vulnerable heart to receive the backing of the brain, busy being an expert of realities. Thoughts are places i visit so often that i either forget coming back home or get too tired after i am back. Its the easiest way of flying when the winds cannot fill the wings or in my case of upsetting reality, the disguised blessing of not having the wings at all. Oh yes, i always knew i lack wings, like literally always. From the time when i feared standing up in a class to speak, to the time when i speak to a class, i always knew i lacked wings. But something is good about this fact, that its a fact, not a truth, well not my truth. I do not look like my truth and it is all i am made of. I am not all love inside but most of what i am, keeps me alive, from the inside, in a world where loving comprises with the living. I am aware of the reality and this awareness has brought me the most calming tool, which in my case is 'acceptance'. I am happy or can try to make myself happy because after a very long time of childhood inhibitions, the grownup version has finally accepted the facts and is set to change it. Experiences are crucial, you need them. Expectations are cruel, we feed them. And i think its a loop we create in our lives that we learn from experiences emanating from failed expectations. There is a realization lately that as much important it is to accept your fact, its equally essential to expect from your truth. The fact gives you the point of start and your truth, well it can take you wherever you want. The bird was never caged but that does not mean she has taken a flight. So yes the dream is the obvious dream of the view from top, the dream of not shaping the only life in a certain preconceived mold and the dream of living the truth despite the fact. Yes its known that the bird is without wings but the love inside believes that for the feel of flying, all she needs is the feel to fly. The sky is the limit, and its always someone's belief in their wings that keeps it limited or beyond.
I stepped on a dry curled leaf on the ground and the sound is somehow very satisfying. The brutal crunching makes way for easy assimilation of the dead leaf into the ground. I have watched the same leaf go from the small peachy pink size to the big vibrant green one followed by the sunny yellow attire!! And let me tell you that sums up the question of life for me in just seven words: EACH FORM OF BEING IS EQUALLY BEAUTIFUL. The body lying on bed has witnessed the pink-green-yellow steps circularize ; credits to the window that allows the eyes to witness the tree, which sometimes looks like a painting in the canvas of a blue shade. Sometimes waking up to a sight of life like that makes you happy and just for that moment everything about yourself seems enough. As usual as it may seem, to have your face washed by the morning rays of dawn, this regular thing is how life kisses you, soft and gentle. For a long time i have been kissed alive by the day and for a long time i haven't bee
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