She had this look on her face. I had tried for hours to convince her to open her mouth and let go of the shock that remained paled in her skin, “Allahna, what is it that you saw? What scared you in the garden?” Yet again her dark brown eyes met mine. Something was different; they glimmered now where they never had before.
A back and forth pitter-patter of trying to get her to speak, with no response, I took it upon myself to drag her back to the garden. She stood at its entrance. No hesitation; no shaking in her boots. She opened her hand and appeared to have her eyes closed. In that exact moment, a flower was plucked from the foliage grasping the trellis entrance, and was placed into her hand. No one had touched it, and she hadn’t done it; it appeared the wind had grasped it tight and laid it in her hand.
She opened her eyes when she felt the petals plop on her skin. She stared at it, in awe of its bright pink hue. Yet she still was just as pale as before. I knelt at her side, “Allahna, what scared you in the garden?” She looked back at me with once again, glimmered eyes. She clutched the flower in her hand, and finally spoke, “The placement of the flower or garden doesn’t scare me.. Its who handed me the flower that frightens me.” She gives it a will? A person of substance? Yet all I saw was a flower floating to her hand.
“Allahna, who handed you this flower?” She smiled, and then lost her train of thought and paled again. She let go of the flower, “Eden. Eden handed it to me.”
The pink petals hit the ground before her last word came out; the muddled petal colors now reflected how this instance felt. This was Edens garden.
(Would like to say that this is just a play on “The Garden of Eden”, and was not written in a religious way. But read at your own leisure)
Trees have leaves; obviously. Though have you ever noticed that sometimes it’s just as hard, if not harder to pull a dead leaf off than a fresh one?
This is sort of how life works; newer things in your life are easier to separate yourself from, whereas something that’s been in your life for awhile is harder to detach from. I thought to myself that all these leaves, are attached to trees that give the leaves life; even still, leaves die. It reminded me, that not all things that appear to benefit you, truly do or will in the long haul. As far as people go, we sometimes cling to what we want or what we need; in the most harsh of cases we lose our morals, our minds, our hearts, or our life. Sometimes it’s not even our choice to be a leaf on a certain tree.
There is an upside though.. While leaves die, and crunch under your feet during the Fall, don’t they also come back in the Spring? You may lose your color and be a detached leaf on the ground, but there’s a new bloom just around the corner. Maybe you’re meant to be knocked down to be picked up.
Truth be told, you can crumble like a leaf many times attached to your tree of life. You just have to decide whether or not to bloom again.
It’s funny how easy it can be for someone to tune out the world; to just breath in air that only gets filtered through their lungs.
I’ve always needed that.
To walk outside and feel a cleansing air, filled with the smells of freshly damp grass, blooming flowers; to hear the hum of bark around a tree, or the whistling song of leaves.
I’ve always needed that.
To feel the brisk short strokes of pencil across a paper, to hear the soft flick of paint against a canvas, to see the splash of water as I clean the bristles.
I’ve always needed that.
To get entranced in pages, reading a story that isn’t mine, realizing my life is a subtle story compared to these masquerading characters.
I’ve always needed that.
To have the minuscule moment in time where the only person in my world is me, and I feel the grand flush of red across my cheeks as my energy refills. To know that I’ve come back revitalized, filled with jovial aura once more.
I’ve always needed that.
To be my best self for the good of others, I must focus on being my best; by myself.
Fear has a way of clouding judgement; like producing this gigantic veil that’s so translucent you don’t even realize it’s there. All my life this veil has plagued every one one of my ventures, from birth to now. Everything to me has always had some underlying bad thing connected to it, and that veil increases when the anxiety brick hits me.
My classes are where my attitude towards fear has been shifted. They set their classes up as little live lessons; all the teachers and all the students for a particular class meet to discuss what’s due for the week, and go over tough lessons. There are always parts within these lessons, where students can contribute opinions or read part of the lesson.
Having been a student there for three years now, I’ve volunteered here and there, but anxiety constantly got the best of me; heart starts pounding out my chest and my whole body shakes endlessly. So I refrained from nothing more than commenting in our little chat-box. Recently, however, my attitude has shifted. I’ve pushed myself to start talking in the chat more, talking to the other students, taking the whiteboard in situations when I know I’m capable. I wasn’t expecting anyone to take notice, -or perhaps it’s just because I rarely did it before- but I got so much approval from my fellow classmates and teachers. One teacher even reached out to say she was glad I participated more.
And my most recent painting and the post I made for it.. I was so skeptical of whether it was worth posting. It can be a difficult thing to manifest something you think is worth talking about over the internet, without feeling like you’ll be criticized just for speaking your mind. The post has actually gained much traction, which was so uplifting to me because I didn’t try to veil my opinion in it. It was just simply me speaking like I would to anybody.
What I’ve learned -from the brief weeks of undergoing this established “experiment”- is that sometimes fear takes the place of the unknown. It can take place where you’d initially have no feeling, so fear creeps its way into the crevices and devours the moment. While fear of the common things that are always overplayed and overrated in movies shouldn’t be overlooked, there comes a time and a place when fear needs to get shoved back down into the hole it belongs in. It may be just as surprising to you as it was to me to find the winsome outcomes that can come along with it; like realizing the potential that you have in yourself.
It’s funny how much things can change in a year. Just today I was notified that I’ve had this blog for little over a year, and I scrolled past some of my very first posts on this site. It’s amazing the transition you can see throughout a whole year of your life; you can actually see or hear the changes in yourself when they’re documented in such a fashion.
A year can seem short-lived, and it can also seem like a tragically never-ending portal of doom. Last year for me was the latter, unfortunately. Though last year held tragic moments, I found out so much about myself. I found that I love helping people, and this was how I developed an interest in psychology. I found new ways to develop my art on my own, and I’m making art constantly. I found that both of those passions can be combined into an actual profession; an art therapist. I found that my own psyche was causing me stress, not the things around me. I found that I could overcome parts of my shyness, and handle my anxiousness.
I’ve been thinking to myself for awhile now; what if I could even further document each year of my life? And what if in that process, I can help others along the way? It seems like such a grand idea, almost unattainable. I want to reach out to more people, talk about important things, spread the word about important things; and I feel like my blog isn’t doing enough justice in that department. So, I thought to myself, “What if I started a YouTube channel?”
YouTube -while it may take awhile to build a base of people watching- can reach so many people, instantly; and I know more people that use it on a regular basis than they do checking on blogs. It’d be the same as what I do here; talking about the things I’m passionate about and what I believe people don’t think about enough.
Maybe this year will be the year I find my voice.
Societies standards of men and women today definitely vary on the culture of where you live, but we can all agree that they exist. A lot of us -to call you and myself out- try to live upto these standards; whether it be peer pressure or the weight of the world feels like it’s crushing you.
However, I was thinking just today, “Can we really blame society if we ourselves allow our mind to be susceptible to the labels?” In my opinion, I do think that people can be influenced by what surrounds them but only if they let them.
Allowing yourself to subject your heart & mind to what society wants can’t all be blamed on them, it’s also what you do to yourself. The thoughts of wanting to be skinnier, healthier, wealthier, wanting a different lifestyle, a different look, they may be influenced by something in the moment; but you choose to dwell on it when you’re alone with no one pushing you towards those things.
It takes self-reflection at its highest to realize that you are causing your own pain; but once it’s realized it is like discovering a part of yourself you never knew about.
So before we all go blaming everything surrounding us -I am guilty of having done this in the past- take into consideration how much damage you have the ability to do to yourself, because that’s what will get you in the end.
I am one of those people that considers myself a balloon; I float in the air of my dreams, and am simply tethered down by reality, and every once in a while someone decides to take a pin to my magical aura and burst it with real life situations. It is not a great feeling to lay on the ground of broken dreams, but I’ve come to realize that sometimes it’s my own dreams that have caused my perception of life to come back down to reality.
If you’re a “hopeless dreamer” -as some would love to label it- than you know of this balloon type feeling. You know what it’s like to sit in your bed and dream up fantasies of what life will be like in ten years, who you’ll fall in love with, how the world will be, what adventures will happen in your life. I have news for you “balloon-wanderers”; you’re spoiling yourself. It’s like when you tell someone they’re going to have a surprise party; not only did you spoil the surprise, but now they will sit and think of how grand this party might be and become disappointed when the party actually arrives. Life is meant to be random and full of things you don’t know, so that when they happen it’s one of the grandest things you’ve ever felt.
The mind is one of the most complex things on Earth, and with it’s complex wiring comes the ability to dream up MILLIONS of possibilities to EVERY situation; and you will set the expectation bar of your life so high that you’ll never be able to enjoy even the littlest of surprises.
I am not saying to abandon your dreams -because what we would be as individuals without them?- I am saying that if you ever find yourself dreaming up of that grand life that you might have, just make sure that when you actually reach that point in your life that you were supposed to be living this dream, that you don’t disregard the actual life in front of you. Because sometimes reality is just as magical as the dream.