In The Beginning

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The beginning of any story can be said to set the tone for how it turns out. A story though is not as simple as how it starts, it is an ongoing journey with uphill and downhill roads and twists and turns. Paths that lead you through sunny fields of flowers to paths that go down dark and dreary woods without a glimmer of sunshine breaking through.

We are all stories that are unfolding day by day; and we are not just one character. We are everything we have to be. Everything we need to be. We are the fighters, the lovers, the children afraid of the dark, we are the magicians, we are the wise men, we are the fools, we are the achievers, the failures, the heroes, the villains, the ones who make a difference, the ones who sit on the side lines. The rulers, the followers, the slaves, the masters. Each of us is everything we would ever need to be to make this life a good story! We are pure potential waiting to be unleashed however we choose!

So really the beginning of the story isn’t as important as the now of the story. Everyday is a chance to write something new into your tale. Everyday is a chance to push yourself, to test your limits, to be who ever you want to be. Your dreams, your passions, they are your roadmap, and you can have more than one. You can chase them all. After all it is only this life on Earth we have to be whatever we want to be, to do whatever we want. I don’t think God ever meant for any of us to not live life to the fullest. It is up to us though to live life right, to write a story we’d be proud of, a story the people we love and who love us will be proud of. A story that means something, rather than just a bunch of words strung together.

What will your pages be filled with today? You have the pen, you get to write. Make it legendary…


Turning Points

There are specific, tangible moments in life which you can look back on and say, ‘That is where and when everything changed.’

To get to those moments, you usually have to trudge through monotony, fight through storms, wander through darkness, cry through heartache and crawl, to the edge of that moment broken, bruised, battered and ready to give up. You usually reach there cowering and scared, utterly tested, all your strength drained.

Some of us don’t get to that moment. We get rooted somewhere along the way. Lost in a place we will never truly grow.

For those who make it to that moment, well, that is a point of change, victory, over-coming; a moment you find that you are so much more, that you are capable of so much more than you thought, that you had strength within you, you never even knew existed.

Those moments bring about transformation. The dirty, broken, ragged person that arrived finds a light within that shines so bright that their outer shell is shattered. They discover they have wings to fly and soar over everything. Those moments make us, they lead us through to brighter futures.

The point of life is reaching each of those moments. There isn’t only one ofcourse, it’s a journey. You will have to go through all the monotony, storms, darkness, heartache many times in life and each time will leave you broken, but eventually better.

You come into this world, with God having created you, but who you become, is up to you. He gives life, but it’s up to you to do what you want with it. He gives you the choices, and waits like a parent, for you to make the right ones. He is always there to help you if you ask but He knows you have to learn to walk so He waits patiently in the background, watching you learn. If you stumble he’ll steady you, but not always, cause there are lessons in falling too.

So take the journey. Find yourself. Fly.


***This was written a while back. I was not ready to post it then, but I am now.


I have not written in a while, not only on this blog but in my life. I have stopped writing to be honest. Reading as I have always said is my escape from reality, if reading is my escape, then writing has to be my door back. It helps me face what I have been running from and get back to living reality, instead of weaving fantasies. I have not written because I was not ready to face reality.

My reality – my dad passed away. At the age of 48 he passed away and I didn’t get to say goodbye, more importantly I did not want to say goodbye, shouldn’t have had to say goodbye so early!

I do not have many fond memories of my dad. He was there for 15 years of my life, but he was always a stranger of sorts. There were times though when he was the best dad in the world. He was the parent who understood me and no matter what we always had a bond, an understanding, probably because deep down we had similar souls. I believe in things like that, things that are unexplainable, something he and I had in common.

How to explain our situation? It was so complicated. From the age of 15 to 21, I didn’t see my dad again. Those years were not easy ones, especially 15. That was the most trying year in my life. So many trials. So many disappointments and so much pain and tears and he wasn’t there to protect me from it all. I was angry with him for that and so many other things. So much anger, so many secrets, so many disappointments; all of it came between an already strained relationship of father and daughter. Love sometimes does not conquer all it seems.

Now though, none of it matters. It all seems trivial and stupid and you wonder how in the world you let all of that get in the way. At the end of the road, what really matters is the love and I learnt that too late.

The truth is he chose the path he chose. It was going to end in heartache but he chose it and I was powerless to change his mind. So now the road’s ended and I stand at the end heartbroken. My dad is gone and I love him and I am mad at him for leaving me when I still needed him so much! I want to scream to bring him back but he won’t come back, so I hold my screams in. I hold my tears back for the sake of my mum, I get on with my life as though nothing is wrong but everything is wrong! Everything is not what I wanted! I think back to the dreams I had as a kid, the ones I dreamt in the mornings with my eyes shut tight, and I want to believe that if I close my eyes tight now and open them again, I’ll be that kid again and everything that has happened was just a vision of a future that could have been and I can change it. That is only a fantasy though and the little girl is gone. Though sometimes I can see her like it was yesterday…

So I do the only thing left to do, I accept the truth before me. I accept he’s gone and it hurts so much! Hurts so very much and I can’t even cry! I hold the tears back for another day, another time, another me. The little girl and her dreams are gone. One day I’ll be gone too with my heartache. Some other version will look back and see both the little girl and the broken-hearted young woman and she’ll see us like it was yesterday…None of us will ever forget though. We will always remember you dad and we are glad for the lessons, the love and hope you finally find some peace.

“The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

You live on in my memory and heart…