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.
For a very long time, I have tried to understand what nothing is. Where there exists different types of feelings in this world, like happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, surprise etc, could “nothing” also be a feeling?
To walk right through a cheerful occasion without feeling any joy; to be a frozen river throughout the year; to sit as close as to the window wanting to meet the sunlight; to be unable to sympathize or comfort; to keep on running with injured feet; to submerge yourself completely into something without any regard for hunger or sleep; to sit in a corner, hiding, loving, caring, all by yourself.
Could feeling nothing at all also be a meaningful feeling? I am yet to find the answer…..
For now, a quote to believe in:
“While living, one does not know,
That living is not perfect.
That sometimes it blossoms with splendor;
Sometimes it withers away pitifully.
That living is about getting hurt sometimes,
And being healed other times.
That sometimes it will require one to leave,
And other times to return.
That living is about constantly changing and moving…
And with that, living is made more beautiful.”