In these moments of utter stillness, when your breath explodes into myriads of colorful facets; when your ocean eyes play catch with rays of sunlight —
It is then
I find myself
photo credits: tumblr.com
She had ribbons in her hair. Purple velvet, nested in a sea of auburn. Small amethyst beads on her neck sparkled softly in the lantern light, complimenting her radiant smile. Her dress billowed and swirled as she danced to the sole violin’s tune, her breathless laughter the sweetest music in his ears. They fell in love beneath the stars; and love, in all its forms, guided them throughout the years, until auburn turned gray, turned white.
When she left, his heart went with her.
On this November day, there is no warmth left in the sun. He gently touches the amethyst necklace, carefully placed on the wooden chair next to his. The tea in his tin cup has long gone cold. Trees shed their leaves in gusts of autumn wind, and his Longing counts the hours, until they meet again.
Written for VisDare26: Engraved – 150 words or less. Grab a pen and join the fun!
photo credits: graphicmania.net
On the seventh day, he woke to the sting of tears, panting.
The image of her perfect, pouty lips as she had flung those horrid words at him remained etched in his mind; not even the unexpected, yet dreadful gift of a few hours of sleep could keep his thoughts from going back.
It still tore at his guts.
Drenched in sweat, wiping the tears from his cheeks while reminding himself to Be A Man, he looked around the room, bleary-eyed. The pillow to his right was abandoned, the blanket crumpled and on the floor. The girl, last night’s ‘bump & grind accomplice’, seemed to have fled the building, along with his watch and wallet, which he remembered to have put on his nightstand a couple of hours ago.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What was her name again? Sarah? Sandra? Oh, hell…
With a grunt, he sat up. He could still taste WhatsHerName on his tongue; the faint, yet lingering stench of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume completed the mental image of her – writhing underneath him. Wincing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, hopelessly trying to keep last night’s memories from conquering his mind. The first tendrils of a splitting headache licked at his temples, a perfectly infuriating addition to the already painfully present mix of guilt and shame.
Absent-mindedly, he reached for the half-emptied, half-forgotten beer bottle on the floor and took a hearty swig. Stale and disgusting – but it would have to do, until he could get his legs to do his bidding and carry him over to the fridge.
It had been six days since She had left him.
Six days since the words, “I never want to see you again.” had sprung from her lips and driven their dagger-shaped intent into his heart.
Six days since his heart had been cremated.
Six days… since he had buried her remains a little way off the beautiful riverbed of Camlyn’s Creek; the exact spot where they had made love for the first time.
He stared at his trembling fingers, still clutching the beer bottle, and felt his stomach convulse.
Her words would haunt him forever.
She would haunt him forever.
That, he was sure of.
photo credits: favim.com
I am not religious.
I am no atheist either.
I am spiritual.
The ‘entities’ I believe in do not matter here, so I will keep them to myself.
What I do believe, is that we were all exhaled by a divine source, no matter which name it bears. Our souls – our sources of energy – are a divine gift. That’s how I see it. We all are sparks of divinity, spread throughout the universe – and I, too, believe that after our deaths, our ‘sparks’ will return to its origin… the source of all being.
The subject of God is always a touchy one – many different beliefs bump into each other when we set the table with bowls full of religion. I try to keep an open mind towards other belief systems, but on this day, I was challenged.
I witnessed a great display of faith today. Of believing in God and religion. It was marvelous in itself, yet, it was tainted… it frayed around the edges. What I am talking about here, is the connection between religion and submission. Quite a few religions demand submission to God – as a gesture of true belief.
This is where my confusion kicks in.
The Bible, for example, says, “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)
Facing religion, if we are mirror images of God, if we all inherited this divine spark, does that mean we have to submit to one another? Does that mean we have to crawl around on all fours all day and kiss the feet of hundreds of passersby in our city malls, our parks, our pedestrian areas?
It would seem so, wouldn’t it?
If we are all sprung from the same divine source or, in case of the Christian belief, ‘created in God’s image’ we should all submit to one another. It is simple logic.
Frankly, I do not understand why religion, belief and submission are connected.
Belief is something beautiful – religion and submission (in my eyes) are both tainted and corrupt.
I am sure the concepts of religion sprang from beautiful minds… from thankfulness for all the beauty in the world, from gratefulness for our own lives and experiences. How come it got so tainted throughout the decades?
Belief is beautiful.
Faith is beautiful.
Religion could be beautiful, too – if it would go back to the original version, the first idea blossoming in the first brilliant mind.
Why do our knees have to “dust the floor”, why do we have to submit to divine sources to show our appreciation and thankfulness?
Why does mankind let rules and restrictions influence its ways of believing?
Does money in the collection bag really pay for our salvation? And, if so, the more money in the bag, the better our chances to not roast on a spit in “hell”?
Do the right terms and phrases matter, when we address a divine source?
What does “holy” mean? Does it mean “divine”? And if so, if divine equals human, does “holy” really mean “human”?
Why is religion always (ALWAYS) connected to guilt?
Why does religion have to be based on the degradation, the humiliation of Self?
It all does not make sense to me.
Belief is beautiful.
Belief is pure and true.
Remove the “shackles” of submission and our modern ‘concepts’ of religion – and marvel in true belief once again.
I am sure, if we all would reflect on what we truly believe in; if we all would live up to our own beliefs, the world would certainly be a much, much better place.
What is the cost of a child’s smile?
Would you be willing to put a price tag on your child’s happiness?
I recently read Daan van den Bergh‘s marvelous guest post over at Rohan7Things (Daan’s post can be found here, I encourage you to read it).
It moved me, deeply.
How precious is it, to see a father make a ‘fool of himself’ in this fast-paced,
intolerable intolerant world, just to see his son smile?
How precious is it, to know someone doesn’t care about the frowns and spiteful words directed at them for their ‘inappropriate behavior’?
I once read an article about a little boy who loved wearing dresses. He constantly faced prejudice; endured the frowns on other parents’ faces, endured the comments of other children making fun of him. One day, the little boy’s father decided he had seen enough. He put on a skirt himself and took his little boy (dressed in a pretty purple skirt) for a walk in the city. Needless to say, they were quite the attraction. One of the city’s female residents stared so hard at them, she ran into a traffic light, head first. The little boy erupted in laughter and his dad smiled a satisfied, hidden smile.
This is what I call great parenting.
After their trip, the boy grew tremendously, as a person. He was allowed to develop a strong character, thanks to his father’s display of courage. Whenever another child tried to make fun of him for his clothing or painted nails, he just answered, “You just don’t dare doing something different because your dad doesn’t dare either.”
That’s how broad his shoulders became.
You say skirts and dresses are for females only?
A kid’s mind is a sponge – and we are role models for our youngsters, whether we are aware of it, or not.
Whatever we do or say makes an impression on them. They will adopt our prejudices, mirror our opinions. We have a great influence on their minds, while they are struggling to sculpt and form character.
What is the cost of a child’s smile?
Is your kid’s innocent happiness a price you are willing to pay, just to fit into Society?
Put on a skirt.
Behave inappropriately in public.
Ignore the frowns and malignant glances.
Witness your kid grow strong.
photo credits: erowid.org, images.fanpop.com, justjared.com