There's a longing in our hearts that takes us to places. It takes us to our dreams. Somehow, someday, our heart rips through our thoughts, our mind and stands out in a way that's impossible to avoid. Because quite honestly, it's been quiet for way too long. We have been ignoring it for way too long. The heart guides us to our purpose - the reason we were brought into this world. There's a power in our heart that cannot be defied; it shakes us to our very core, hitting our thoughts like hail hitting the trees and shedding them in the process. There's a power in our heart, a truth that can never be hidden or ignored and the longer it sits there, the more powerful it becomes.
In shaking off these layers and accepting them, I have realized something…. It is the purpose of my life. The purpose of my life, I realized, is to be a flower. To be that one thing in the world that exudes laughter and love. In listening to my heart, I have realized that the only thing real in any moment of my life - is laughter. The only moment real is the one in which we unstoppably burst into laughter and spread seeds of it into the wind to be taken far far away, into the parts of the world we may never be able to touch or see.
But laughter is not constant. The winds can change direction and flowers can wilt. What once looked beautiful can now be completely dead. The heart can tremble yet once again at the loss of the ones we once loved with all of our hearts. With their beauty, we survive. In their beauty, we thrive. Perhaps they are still beautiful, we just need to remember. When they have lost their vision, we need to be their eyes. We need to remember them for who they are and who they can be. Goodbye is temporary. For in this lifetime, they will blossom all over again. This is the life of a flower and the life I am meant to live.
Hence, with broken sentences and unfinished books, my message to the world is simple:
Live like a flower.
When it's time to wilt, wilt. When it's time to bloom, bloom. Live like a flower and bring with yourself a laughter that will rip through the sky and spread with the wind like an irresistible desire.
Keep smiling like flowers,
Ish Kish Mish
July 27, 2015, 8:17 PM, Regina, SK, Canada
It took me a really long time to realize that in this life I was a very special person. In my own life and in others'. I was a person who entered your life and never left. Someone you could never afford to be fake in front of because I always saw right through you. I saw right through the million layers you had built around yourself and made you come face-to-face with your reality. From that you wanted to escape and bullshit me over and over again. But then again, I saw right through you. In front of me, there was absolutely no escape. In front of me, you had to show who you really were and let yourself be vulnerable because the only you who could meet me was the person you really were, not the person you were trying to be. Sometimes it took months, sometimes years, sometimes even a lifetime, but that was ok. If you had met me and were part of my life, some day you understood. That you'd have to throw away all the crap about who you think you are supposed to be and let yourself be who you really are. With me, you were just you. That was the power of my presence in your life.
In response to Happy (Insert Occasion here)! Writing Assignment.
Topic for today:
Tell us about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.
Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.
Here’s some of my favourite foods that I can recall from my childhood:
1) The boiled potato
When I was little, I absolutely loved to eat boiled potatoes right after they came out of the pressure cooker. They used to be very hot and steamy and very hard to peel. My mother would boil them for making potato paranthas and she would always have one or two extras. We would swoop into the kitchen and try to eat them. Mother would always say, “Don’t eat too many or you won’t eat the paranthas.” I obviously wouldn’t care about what comes after the potatoes. All I wanted was to pour salt on them while they were still steaming and eat them as soon as possible. There’s something about the light taste of salt on a hot potato that just makes it taste so much better. The simplicity of this small snack still remains in my heart as I cook today.
2) The potato chips and the miracle food(?)
On Sundays, my mother would make deep fried potato chips. Hot out of the pan, I clearly remember eating them with Ketchup. But in addition to the chips, I remember these colourful things that came in different shapes. I do not know what exactly they are called but they came in different shapes and colors and when deep fried, they’d expand in size. Those were really great to eat. I mean, how could something so small just expand in size when fried? They were a miracle and it was amazing to watch them become something completely different in a pan of hot oil. Man, I haven’t had them in over a decade!
3) Ice cream
The best ending to every day was the ice cream. At night, my father would bring home a brick of ice cream and we’d cut into pieces with a knife and eat it together. I cannot recall exactly but I believe we had restrictions on how much ice cream we could eat at a time. May be because it is quite easy to eat the whole brick in one shot? I can totally see myself doing that but I was a good child. I listened to my mother. I only remember the flavour Tutti Fruity by ZigZag(?). That was the only brand available at the best ice cream store in town. I believe it had red and green chunks in it. Anyway….to eat ice cream with family after dinner was a very sweet way to end each day.
If you were me, you were a Sweets girl. You loved eating anything sweet. Especially if your grandfather had a Sweets shop. Sweets come in all different colors and shapes but they all have one thing in common – they are all sweet lol. Just like me 😀 haha. Some were made to look like pears. I especially remember a pink one, which had white stuff in the middle. That one was a bit more expensive than gulab jamuns and rasgullas so I chose to eat it on special occasions only. Not that I ever had to pay for any of it but I still wanted to be considerate. I also remember the colourful display of all the sweets at our shop on Diwali, laid out on a slope so you could see all varieties just by one look. That view was beautiful. On Diwali, there’s even more varieties than normal so I’d get a few boxes packed so I’d get to taste each kind at least once.