Soul of an Artist

Photo credits- Amina Live Foundation A sigh of relief. A breath of fresh air. A community of like minded people. It was the miracle I didn't know I needed. I don't want to sound like I'm overselling it or I'm painting it out to be better than it actually is. I'm really not. In fact, if anything, I am underselling it. Honestly, it was among my first major wins of 2023. Where do I start? Let's start from the beginning. I got the application from a Whatsapp group. You know, among those many applications that are sent, one just calls out to you. It was an easy application. They didn't make my work too hard like other job applications that you have to jump through 1000 hoops just to get to the application itself. But, I had to sell myself. There was a section where you had to write 100 words describing yourself. I'm a writer, that shouldn't be too hard right? Wrong. I decided, in that moment, sitting at my desk, in the kitchen, write from the heart. Don...

Photo Credit- Mark Manson I wish I was brave.  Brave enough to love you loudly.  I wish I was courageous.  Courageous enough to go after what I wanted.  You.  I wish I didn't care what they thought.  Cause while I cared what they thought.  They were busy doing what I wanted to do.  I wish I let them judge me.  Cause now I realize,  I don't care much for their opinion anyway.  And I lost a gem collecting rocks.  I lost so many moments, so many opportunities.  Hiding myself from you.  While all you wanted from me was to reveal myself.  We were a perfect fit, I see that now.  As I look back, all I feel is regret.  So this is what regret feels like.  The words unsaid leave me in a chokehold.  All I feel is anger and pain.  Anger towards them but mostly me.  And pain for the lost opportunities.  You saw me, I saw you.  But I was afraid.   I'm afraid it's too late for...

Photo Credit- The Dictionary of Female Feelings It's all vain. All of it. But it's the vanity that makes it interesting. It's the vanity we want to see. We want to hear the lies. We want to drink the poison because it looks good. It's the vanity that has a sweet scent, pleasing to the nose. Our imagination makes this easier for us. We can choose what to see. We can choose to be blind to what's staring at us. To what's right in front of us. We tell ourselves what we want to hear. Because it's easier for everyone. We don't want the truth. No. The truth is bitter. It won't go down without a fight. The truth stinks. It is ugly. It repulses all our senses. So we choose to wear our rose coloured lenses. But in doing so, we slowly rot. We decompose without even realizing it. Eventually, the smell overpowers us. Our rose coloured lenses wear out. And even our imagination won't be there to shield us.

They are all interconnected. Well, to me they are. The cycle starts anywhere. It takes any shape or form. For me, it started with oblivion. I was so oblivious to the things that were around me. It was quite peaceful. The most peaceful I had ever been. You know what they say, ignorance is bliss. I was happy, content. Until I wasn't. I couldn't tell what came next. All I knew was it disrupted my peace. Shook up my world and now it wasn't as peaceful anymore. It started small, slowly growing. I thought I could ignore it, supress it, but it wasn't having any of that. It wanted to be heard, to be seen and to make some noise. Where did it come from, nobody knew. But it was here with us. And it didn't look like it was leaving any time soon. Then came the void. This was the worst part. Feeling empty. Feeling nothing. Apathy, but not the good kind. The kind that eats you up from the inside out. That tears you down brick by brick. Slowly. Chip by chip. The only sound that...

I still can't believe it. Nobody can. Rastaman. That's what most people used to identify you as. But that's not all you were. You were a son, a homie, a student, a classmate, a brother, a friend and most importantly, you were kind and generous. You blended in wherever you went and it was easy to talk to you. Your calm and gentle aura could calm even the rowdiest of souls. Very clean always happy and didn't want to see anyone down. A good listener who always uplifted the people you met. Anyone could strike up a conversation with you and leave feeling a little bit lighter. Everyone liked you. And everyone feels this loss. When 2023 began, I never imagined something like this was in store for us. You were a friend of a friend when I first met you but then you became my friend almost immediately. I remember your phone calls needing my help to know where the venue of a certain class or exam was. Or when you needed a group for a class assignment. Back then I complained abou...

Photo Credit- HuffPost I wish I lived in a graveyard. There's no noise and it is void of human traffic. It is the one place that human beings avoid the most increasing it's appeal to me. I wish I could speak to the dead. Conversations with them seem more fulfilling and less tedious as compared to people. I'd listen to their secrets and their stories untold. The words left unsaid. I wish I could walk with ghosts. That way, I could see every detail that my human eyes miss. There's something eerie about graveyards and that something beckons to me. It's mostly just quiet. I love quiet. It's mostly empty. But empty is just a canvas to fill with beautiful art. I wish I could hold a picnic in a graveyard. I'd listen to the swish of the wind and all that it carries. The air would feel lighter, the sky just a bit more blue. I'd hold conversations with my ancestors drinking in their wisdom. The graveyard would make a lovely picnic site. Because all there is natu...

Photo Credit- Science Photo Library What is time? Have you ever thought about that? Is it real? and if it isn't, then why does it work so well? It is a measure of some sorts but what is it measuring? Age? How long? Isn't it just repeating itself? To what end? Is there an end to it? What would happen if we didn't have time? Would there be a world to even exist in? Why is it in cycles? Morning, afternoon, evening, night. Second, minute, hour, day. Day, week, month, year. Like, what are we doing? Is it supposed to make sense or am I overreaching? What happens when we run out of time? Another one is born to take your place?And at the end of it all, where do we all go? I guess the better question is, what are we doing here. Is there time in space? According to the internet, gravity curves space and time. So, when there is a higher gravitational pull, time slows down. Hence people in space age slightly slower than those on earth.Now I want to go to space. You can try understad...