Letting Go
Some things that have been tools in surviving this far have to be left in the dust behind with the years that I can only hold in memory.
Today there is something within that is unwavering to keep on with the lack of need to keep up the facade that only keeps me in the shackles of the past.
The ones that rob the yearning heart of bliss that is grounded here and in the now.
Only the one in the mirror is the enemy that I have now decided to become more friendly with during the most tumulus period that has rattled the mind of facts, patterns, pleasures and agreeable decisions that only bring a sunken feeling within that no amount of bargaining with the soul has brought me any closer to peace or contentment.
The seasons of growing are wonderfully challenging to the mind, and body and now recently I have found out that the soul does quite a stirring in moments of less effort.
Being able to sit with the flood of thoughts has been a task that with every minute I’ve decided to invest towards becoming someone who values meditative activities.
I am not only referring to the commonly known ways of meditating like walking, and mindfulness but knitting and sketching have now become the fundamentals of easing the mind and body.
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4 months ago, I was wrapped up in the comforter of depression and gripping onto the corners jumping at every sound outside my heartbeat.
The new reality of being unemployed hit me like a drunken driver with a mission to leap off the edge of the cliff yet I had unfortunately been there chasing after my hypothetical energetic Jack Russell.
I had to face myself in the mirror and every day I kept showing up even if I felt pangs of disgust, anger, shame and pity. It was more of a ritual that I developed in my early teens, and it has been a tradition that serves as a testament to myself that in all this life journey I’ll be the constant.
Eh, if gake daar for nna then aowa. (If I’m not there for myself then who will be).
I’ve come to understand that if I am my enemy then there’s no need to seek external ones, the call is coming from inside the house.
It has been a hard pill to swallow in the past, though at the time I did not have the current tools, life experiences and knowledge to be able to make sound decisions that led to thriving and not destruction.
The phases of the woman I’ve grown to become are incredibly interesting and the prospect of the future does seem to be sweeter than the nectar that I receive from the fresh bloom of pink, red, and white roses in the Pretorian spring, spoiling me with the sense of adventure and the uncertainty of what might grow from the seeds of action.
From the depth of the being that I’ve come to cherish, the future does not worry me as much as it did yesterday, for I’ve come to welcome the gift of the present as one that will always have treasures that one can only dream of.
