Three days, three quotes – day 3

This is the last day of the ‘Three days, three quotes’ challenge, to which I was nominated by herSCREAMINGshadows. Thank you a lot for thinking of me!

The Rules:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you.
  2. Post a quote for three consecutive days.
  3. Nominate three other bloggers each day.

The Third Quote:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. (Luke 6:31)

And a little something inspired by it:

When fingers scratch upon slick walls,
Gaining no shadow of purchase,
When muscles strain to lift you up
Against a force too great,
Instead of helping yourself up,
Choose to give your mates a push.
I imagine a world surrounded
By a link of people holding hands,
Pushing, pulling, dragging,
However the case might require
Someone other than themselves,
An uninterrupted chain stretching
All the way back to the person
Who started the first act of kindness.
You may be against religion,
You may be against philosophies,
But in the folds of them all,
Stripped from all pretenses,
Hides the same piece of common sense.
We are all equal. To behave right,
Just put yourself in another’s shoes,
And treat your fellows the way
You’d need them to treat you.
You’re extending yourself a hand,
And pulling yourself straight up.
You just go the long way around,
And pass through other hands first.

 

I had a bit of a shock looking for this quote today. I found it in various phrasings, but they all attribute it to the same source: the Bible. I had absolutely no idea. I’m not a religious person, but this particular piece of advice is perhaps the principle on which I try to base the greatest part of my behaviour in interpersonal situations, and has been for years. It was an interesting discovery, and thank you again herSCREAMINGshadows for giving me this challenge for the opportunity to find this out (and all of you guys for reading my blog so I have someone to share it with).

Even though I still won’t make any nominations for the challenge, you guys should definitely give it a try! Who knows what you might discover 🙂

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Three days, three quotes – day 2

Thank you, herSCREAMINGshadows, for this nomination! Forgot how fun it actually is.

The Rules:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you.
  2. Post a quote for three consecutive days.
  3. Nominate three other bloggers each day.

The Second Quote:

Criticism is something we can avoid easily by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing. (Aristotle)

And a little something inspired by it:

A heavy rain on a lake
Means no wave stays unturned,
But no circle ever reaches
More than centimetres across.
People will always talk,
Many words, with many mouths,
With many distractions as well.
They leave no trace behind.
You can’t satisfy them all,
But nor should you ever.
Choose quality over quantity.
Your opinion is the only one
Which actually makes a mark.
You’re your harshest critic,
So don’t set that bar too high.
You achieve more stumbling forward
Than running on the spot.

 

I find this a very encouraging reminder. I tend to have this bad habit of worrying about whether I do things right or just make a fool of myself. But the truth is, I’m probably doing both at the same time. I might do something horribly, which isn’t the best feeling in the world, but I still do it, which is the only thing that matters. Progress and criticism don’t happen one without the other, and I’m not going to give up on the former just for fear of the latter. So come criticize me, baby! 😉

Again, I won’t make specific nominations, but please take this as an open invitation to join in the ‘Three days, three quotes’ challenge!

Three days, three quotes – day 1

I’ve been nominated, rather unexpectedly, to the ‘Three days, three quotes’ challenge by herSCREAMINGshadows. Thank you a lot for this! And guys, the screaming is really quite lovely, do check it out.

The Rules:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you.
  2. Post a quote for three consecutive days.
  3. Nominate three other bloggers each day.

The First Quote:

Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans. (John Lennon)

And a little something inspired by it:

The words we write only make sense
Because of the white page behind them.
Maybe we’ll get to reach our dreams,
But that’s a single moment of satisfaction.
No matter how big, it can’t compete
With the hundreds of dinners you rushed,
The special people you didn’t meet,
The experiences you never got to have.
We’re only humans, and we can’t see
Something as large as life at once.
We see many trees and we call it forest,
But maybe every once in a while,
We should find out if it’s an oak or ash
That we ignore by the side of our path,
Take a break, and see the shade of which
Pushes us forward faster after it.
Always aim high, and always aim true,
But the destination doesn’t change
Merely because you chose the nicer path.
So look through the gaps in between
The boxes you’re desperately checking.
You might be surprised, but life
Is peering back, waiting.

 

I won’t nominate anybody specifically, but if you’ve read this, consider yourself invited to join in the fun!

Hope you all get to experience lovely, dense forests of stunningly beautiful and unique trees. The kind that you don’t mind getting lost in every so often. See you tomorrow!

New colours

A part of me wants to understand a new colour,
To wake up and stretch my mind
And suddenly see things I couldn’t before.
Tetrachromats can do it, can’t they?
So I’m thinking it’s physics,
Like the spatial dimensions of the world,
I need to use the spectrum I already own
And add something else to it,
To turn a point into a line into a plane.
But I don’t have that special fourth cone,
So I suppose I’d have to improvise.
Maybe I can just repurpose another sense.
I can make a new shade out of colour and feeling,
Like the specific kind of blue of sadness,
Or that particular combination of purple and yellow
That I see streaked in Euston Square
That somehow always reminds me
Of the dancing butterflies in the singing box
I always played with as a baby,
Probably because both were so polished and shiny.
Or maybe that twist of orange and green
Of porous artificial flowers
That make such a racket when you flick them.
It’s annoying.
Because I realize all of these
Are not in any way new colours,
They are perfectly old, perceivable colours
Packed together with specific memories.
So the rest of me is not concerned about novelty,
But about how poorly we can handle the rest,
How you can’t quite capture sun in a photo
Or mix your paints to match the shadow,
Or even draw that shine with your words.
I guess I was wrong. You can’t make new colours
Out of colours streaked with circumstance,
But you can certainly make new memories.
And the best part of memories
Is being able to take them out of their box
And run your fingers over them,
Checking that they’re still what your remember,
And perhaps share them with someone.
They do no good if they’re trapped
Inside your mind, in a fuzzy state of semi-existence.
So I guess what I should really want
Is to properly understand my old colours instead.

Soul pieces

I’m serving you pieces of my soul
And your shrugged thank yous
Feel more like slaps in the face,
Salt to go into the wounds
I so willingly inflict on myself.
But it’s ok. Souls are organic.
Like plants, cutting little pieces
Only makes more flowers grow,
So maybe I’m keeping my heart open
For the completely wrong person,
But it makes so little difference.
The only right person is myself.
I can keep shouting all the wishes
Of what you should do for me
But, like the rules of genies,
The universe seems deaf to those,
So I’d rather wish you well instead,
And make sure there’s enough
Goodness to go around, and hopefully
It will somehow come to touch me too.
Take all the pieces you want,
And some of those you don’t want too.
I have enough to keep regrowing,
Reborn into the person I want to be.

Just a cat

I’m just a kitten to you, aren’t I?
I’ve been so proud of my claws and fangs
I forgot that I’m still something small
That looks fluffy and adorable to you,
But you could grab the scruff of my neck,
Pick me up and throw me across the room
If I ever sank those tiny claws too much.
I forgot you were just indulging me
While I purred what I thought were roars,
And batted so viciously at things
That you had made sure in advance
Could never strike back at me.
I forgot that for all my ‘hunting’ skill
I come back to the bowl you fill for me,
And rub against your legs for attention.
I just forgot. I’ve grown, indeed,
From the little ball of fur you first saw
To something that does have fangs.
But I think my eyes only grew now
Because I just realized what I am.
A Bengal – but the cat, not the tiger.
You were the latter. I looked at you
And let the similarities fool me,
Believed my spots to be the real deal
And thought myself already a leopard.
But that’s ok. I’m still growing.
You never know what I’ll end up becoming.
Or maybe I’ll become wiser instead,
And learn to purr and look adorable
Before I launch straight for the eyes
Of those who I fool into approaching.
I only mustn’t forget that I’m just a cat.

Good for you

The warmth grows with the flush,
Spreading down to your core
And it should be uncomfortable
But it’s a bit like getting a hug,
You forget for a moment
That you need your blanket
And to burrow in its dark security.
The liquid should sting maybe,
But you actually revel in the water,
Its steady flow calming
And the cold air on your wet face
Is a soothing kind of meditation.
And you moan and gasp for breath
But there’s words beneath there,
And it’s the first time in forever
That you actually let them out,
And their release more than makes up
For the pain of their escape.
We are conditioned to avoid pain,
But it’s tiring to keep pushing down,
The pressure steadily increasing.
Every once in a while,
It might be good to let yourself fall
To the depths of your personal abyss,
Get reacquainted with what lives there,
And after you understand them,
Make order from within.

Sometimes, crying is good for you.