Learning to breathe

Archive for the tag “literature”

Don’t “like” my post

When I wake up with my mind brimming with ideas for a new story or poem, I hardly ever want to have to get to my laptop to type it out because, well, that would reduce the masterpiece in my mind to a mere article for your reading pleasure or displeasure. But I do it anyway because there’s no way else for you to see what I see in my head. It is not my intention to articulate my thoughts and put them up on the internet for all to see, and then have you “like” my post. No sir, I don’t want you to “like” my post at all.
I want you to read my thoughts in five hundred and something words then tell me what you think about it. You don’t want to know what it takes out of me to sit down for an hour sometimes more to make my thoughts presentable to you then have you “like” my writing with a smirk on your face or disinterest in your eyes. I don’t want your consolation prize. I want you to read my post. I’m not asking you to like it. I’m not giving you license to hate it. I’m telling you to pick one of the two. There is no fence where my work is concerned. I broke down all the walls so there are just an open field with two groups of people, readers, whatever. Don’t waste five minutes of your life coming to this blog to like a post you didn’t even read till the end. I betcha you didn’t even check the title of this blog. But it’s fine. Just read this post till the end then memorise the title of this blog or something.
I’m not asking you to go all literature-critic on me especially if you don’t know what that means or entails. Give me your honest opinion, is all I ask and cry for day and night.
“Ibukun, this post was stupid and was a waste of my time” Fine.
“I loved this post! The story was beautiful. Kept me guessing till the end. Love love love it!” Sweet.
Just say something. Try to understand that you cannot take back the minutes you used to read the post so say something honest. Don’t tweet a thumbs-up at me, don’t IM a smile, don’t “like” my post even if you like it. Say you like it in the comment box- if you really do.
The most difficult part of writing this post for me to accept is someone, somewhere on this planet, will still go ahead and “like” this post.

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Thoughts, thoughts, ramblings, musings

What do I know apart from what I know?

Nothing.

I met someone new and he taught me new things. He taught me things I can’t be sure I know because what a heart knows by heart is what a heart really knows.

What if I know by mind? Or soul? Does that count for nothing?

He taught me new fragrances and  he taught me art. He taught me to feel and he taught me honesty.

He taught me to sing and he taught me to sound breathy.

But I had no intention of staying under his tutelage for long and I disposed of that type of education with the coming of full moon

Till a certain full moon came that I did not stay outside to watch, to admire, to love, to  soak in.

Instead, in slumber I was watched, admired and stolen from.

Rudely awoken at an even number and informed that I wasn’t the only one watched, admired or stolen from while humans slept

You have to hang loosely to things that can easily be forced out of your hand because it was never yours. I learned that under his tutelage, under the full moon.

Another teacher stays a die hard fan

He teaches me but he hardly speaks. Talking is too much. Talking is unnecessary; he  lives like a blackboard and chalk.

A walking illustration, he is

I stay here to muse and wonder about the teachers I learned from this past week and my mind recoils, not wanting to process any of it fully. Doesn’t want to have to process anything.

Some things are best left the way they were given you

Other things are gifts you have to check thoroughly in the mouth

Do you understand any of this? Does your mind keep you up at night?

Will you lose yourself in the forest that is your mind?

Or will you build a safe house somewhere at the edge?

Either way, you’re not really safe in the thing that is your mind

There is always something unsafe about safe so choose which direction of unsafe you will fall.

Before you are pushed over the edge

Learning to Breathe Better

learning-to-breathe-pic

It hasn’t exactly been a year since I started learning to breathe. I started learning to breathe on the 12th of January, 2011 and I’ve been sharing m breathing techniques on my WordPress since then. I believe that you can never stop learning to breathe, you can only get better at it. So yes, I’m still learning. 2012 has been a pretty eventful year for me…somethings I’d like to forget quickly, somethings I’ll cherish all the days of my life. I met new friends and I lost some. I’ve been the insecure girl at work and I’ve been the picture of security. I’ve had emotional roller-coaster rides that have been anything but enjoyable. Been tossed here and there by emotional tides. Now that I look back on all of it, I can smile. I can smile because I tasted a wealth of emotions this year.

Spiritually, I’ve become wiser, maybe even stronger. And I find it amazing how God calls my kind to be “the light of the world” and “a city on a hill” when all I want to do is crawl back into the pit that He picked me from. The pit is comfortable. The pit is all I’ve known. The pit is was home. Time and time again, He comes for me, picks me up again and sets me on a hill for all to see. I’m not sure I love the attention all the time, I would rather go back down to the pit sometimes and feel sorry for myself. Often He tells me that my flaws, imperfections, insecurities, brokenness is exactly what He needs. If I was flawless, perfect, secure, sturdy…I’m afraid He would have no need of me. And I would have no need for Him. If there’s nothing I know about myself, I know that I am needy and I love to feel needed. I think of that and I get out of my pit willingly.

At home, I won’t say that everything has been dandy. That would be a lie. If there is a perfect home in this world, it definitely isn’t mine. I love my father with every fibre of my being. I know that he has made mistakes, I acknowledge the fact that he has many flaws and has made decisions he will regret all his life. I just want to make regretting easier for him. It’s the least that I could do. My siblings and I share a name and a home but I can’t say that we live for each other. We are so used to giving each other left over loving, I’m not sure what it would feel like to give them the main dish. What if they don’t even want the main dish? My stepmother on the other hand is an enigma to me. Sometimes, I think it’s possible for me to love her and other times, I wake up to the cold reality that it will be difficult and it will take flesh out of me. I’m pretty selfish. I don’t want anything taken out of me. I want it dropped in my lap. I lie to myself that I don’t have much of me to give to anybody and I know deep inside that there’s so much to give, so much to pour out and I’m afraid that is what keeps me up at night. I don’t know how to give and through 2012, I wasn’t ready to learn. I just wanted to breathe.

As for school, I’ve had moments when I just sit down and cry. I ask myself more often than I really want to: “What are you doing here?”

What are you doing here?!

I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing handling violins, pianos and a lazy soprano voice. I don’t know what I’m doing writing MUSON theory exams. I don’t know what I’m doing reading sheet music. I don’t know if I want to go to Royal College of Music when I finish university. So I’ll just focus on breathing for now. I’ll breathe deeply when the music notes become blurry and the tears threaten to spill, I’ll breathe confidently when my mouth opens and timid soprano pours. I’ll breathe, surely, when I bow my violin in front of an unfriendly looking panel. I’ll breathe.

As for relationships, I’ll take a break. I can’t make wise decisions when I keep hopping from one relationship to the other. I’ll  lose my breath and some of my sanity, some of myself. I’ll lose. I lose because I don’t know what to give and I don’t know what to keep. That way, I end up giving what I should keep and keeping what I should give. So I’ll just stop and breathe.

Breathe.

This is my last post on this blog. Still unsure if I should delete it or just leave it dormant. Don’t ask why, I don’t have the answer. I can tell you confidently though, that breathing is the best thing that could happen to us humans. Just breathe. Breathe deeply, thoughtfully, reverently. Breathe as you are.

And let your heart find rest in Him…

Tchink and Eden (Chapter 5)

“What are you?”

She smiles as she hauls me out of the liquid “I was expecting a ‘who”?

“What?” I am puzzled.

“Who are you?’  Not ‘what are you?”

What difference does it make? I say to myself.

I see the stag on the other side of the foreign lake, resting. My heart is no longer beating hard and I take this to mean that I am no longer afraid. I must have left my wits at the bottom of this lake because if I had them about me I would spread my wings and fly far far away from these…things. Yet, there is something about the way this being is fashioned that compels me to stay and study her. I know it’s a ‘her’ because she sounds feminine. Aside from that there isn’t anything feminine about her in the lome sense of the word; she looks nothing like Yovec or Mama Tchaek. Something like a lot of gold colored yarn is sprouting from her head the way grass sprouts from the ground.

Does she water her head, then?

Her skin is not pale or even translucent but it glows and is the color of a baby lome’s nose when he is crying. Her eyes are endless depth of blue and they are half the size of my endless depths of black. Amazingly, it does not diminish their beauty; I could stare into her eyes for the rest of my life now that I have lost my wits. She is robed in white like a fresh born lome too.

Why does she have robes on? Does she have something to hide? Or is she just a large, deformed baby lome?

Suddenly, I feel naked and a shade of pink creeps into my cheeks when she turns and catches me staring at her.

“I’m surprised you do not ask questions.” She says as she bends once again, reaching into the strange lake with her left hand.

“My mother gives me firm knocks on me head when I ask visitors and strangers questions. She says I don’t mind me business”

She laughs. Her laughter is deep and throaty…bubbling up from her insides.

“Maybe you do ask a lot of questions then but I can handle your questions. Go on, ask.”

She still has her left hand beneath the surface and she is still bent uncomfortably, facing the other direction, facing the stag.

“Who are you? What is your name? Where are you from?”

“My name is Lysa. You needn’t know where I am from; you wouldn’t understand.”

“I dinna want to think that you think me to be simple.”

“No, you’re not simple, Tchink. If you were simple, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

My heart slammed against my chest.

“How do you know my name?”

“There are a lot of things that I know, Tchink. For example, I know that you should be meeting your friends at the meadow right now and I also know that you would love some fish.”

She finally brings her hand out of the liquid and along with her hand, a big wriggly thing. It looks like an over fed slug with big eyes and mouth. She calls it fish and she says that I would like to have some of it but all I want to do is run to the meadow.

“I would love to get back to my friends now.”

She smiles again then nods her approval.

“We have so much to talk about Tchink but you can go meet your friends now.”

My heart swells with relief and sadness at the same time but I manage to spread my wings and fly.

I will come back for my wits at a more opportune time.

Tchink and Eden (Chapter 3)

Tcheb, Yovec and didn’t see each other that day after the morning’s episode but Yovec’s words couldn’t find their way out of my head. I rolled the thought over and over in my head and tried desperately to make meaning of it.

What if a lome had come back from exploring other parts of the world?

But then, Yovec said that it didn’t look like any of us. Maybe it was a lome but it looked different because Yovec was flying above it.

What exactly did she see?

I want to believe without doubt that Yovec saw a lome and thought it to be something else but I know it wasn’t

It wasn’t.

“Tchink, boy!”

I jumped off from the spot I had been sitting on. Mama Tchaek had asked me to fetch her a fresh drum of decon for the meeting Papa Tchlan was going to have with the older lomes at our home. I hurriedly grabbed my pail and dunked it into the lake. Somehow, I managed to dunk myself into the lake along with the pail.

I came up spluttering but triumphant with a full pail of decon. I practically ran towards our house and towards Mama Tchaek.

She was standing arms akimbo in front of the house but instead of the disapproving look I expected to find on her face, I found she was amused and she was trying so hard not to break into a fit of laughter.

“I fetched a fresh pail, Mama” Some decon from my head had found its way down my face and a puddle of decon began to form at the spot where I stood.

“Did a foul spirit push you into the lake, Tchink?”

“No, Mama. I dinna look-”

Mama Tchaek finally burst out laughing. She fell on the front porch laughing. She laughed hard, holding her sides.

My lips curled up in a smile, I must be a sight for Mama Tchaek to laugh so hard. I ran past her and poured the decon into the drum and ran back out to the lake to fetch some more so I could move on to other chores.

The path to the lake was narrow and windy but opened up into a small circle of lush grass around the lake. I am the only one at the lake at this time. I wonder what Yovec and Tcheb are doing and I hope that Yovec isn’t still in shock about what she saw. I couldn’t wait till afternoon when we would finally see each other to talk properly about what Yovec saw. Excitement rushed through me as the Sun shone brighter, drying off the decon on my body.

I’m fetching my last pail of decon now and I stop for a minute to admire the lamb that wandered towards the lake. It had come from amidst the bushes and I made a mental note to tell Yovec and Tcheb about the new path I had discovered. For now, I’ll concern myself with finishing my chores before noon.

 

I listened in on the elder lomes’ meeting. They were talking about boring affairs like home boundaries and constructing a new home for Chief Kerst. Noon came soon after and I rushed off to the meadow; that’s where we meet during the day. Yovec was already there waiting.

“Yovec!” She smiled and offered me her hand as I made to sit on the rock beside her.

“Tchink, where’s Tcheb?”

“I dinna know. He should be here soon. Tell me about the thing you saw this morning, Yovec. I’ve been dying to hear all day.”

“What do you want to hear, Tchink?”

“I want to hear what it looked like.”

Yovec jumped off the rock, fell on her knees and began to yank some grass out of the earth.

“What are you doing?”

She ignored me and continued plucking grass. When she had two handfuls she sat on what was left of the grass and piled the grass on her head. Then she reached for two big leaves and put one at her chest level before placing the other at the point where her legs began.

“Are you alright, Yovec?” I heard Tcheb say from behind me.

“She had something like this on top of her head and it was the color of decon. Then she had something to cover her body. That’s how I knew she wasn’t like us.”

“But she could’ve been carrying some things on her back, Yovec. You probably mistook what she was carrying for all this you’re describing, Yovec.” Tcheb explained.

“She looked at me! That’s why I fell.” Yovec was standing now. I could see frustration in her eyes. “She didn’t have our eyes. Her eyes were smaller…like the size of seeds and they had the colour of the sky in the afternoon.”

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