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!

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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.

Because you’re special

We come up with a thousand reasons

To explain to people why they are special.

We like talking about their beauty,

Both inside and out, those luminous eyes

And kind smiles. We talk about

The things that they do, the achievements,

And the troubles they’ve stayed out of.

We talk about things that

They hold no merit for, that just happened,

Like the family they were born into.

And it helps. For a while.

But rarely do we realize the conditions

That we imply to exist. Our talking

Implies that their uniqueness disappears

Over years when their beauty fades,

When their abilities fail, or in places

In which their background is irrelevant.

Everybody thinks it at the back of their mind.

That’s why we hang onto things,

Onto easy, comfortable, known stuff,

That’s why we identify ourselves with things

That should be just a passing stage.

We don’t allow ourselves to become more.

But we can change that. You can change it.

Instead of thinking of the things

Because of which you’re special,

Try to consider, just once, the things

That you can do. Because you’re special.

Above and beyond any happy, misguided reason.

My life is better for having met you

I was hiding in a little room,

In a land that spoke in strange tongues.

You extended a hand, dragged me to light,

And taught me those new, twisted words,

Not by bringing in scholars or masters.

You just spoke soft enough, slow enough,

That I saw them in a different way,

And finally stopped being afraid.

The mirror was showing me such monsters.

Before you, I never realized that

It was actually only broken.

You didn’t tell me that, but I saw you

Looking into it once, and you

Angled yourself in such a strange way,

Something I never saw anybody do.

So I tried the same, and I found

The little smooth part of the glass,

And suddenly I was beautiful too.

You never changed anything,

But that didn’t stop you

From changing everything for me.

You never did anything,

But that didn’t stop things

From happening to me anyway.

You don’t have to have done something.

It’s just the way you are,

And what I understood of what you are,

And just a whole lot of luck in between.

So through no fault of your own,

My life is better for having met you.

Thank you. For your simple existence.

Open book

Sure, you’re an open book
Crypted thrice over
In a language no one but you knows.

Sure, you’re completely transparent
The same way the ocean is
So you only see inches below the surface.

Sure, everything is crystal-clear
The refracting kind of crystal
So you find anything but its depths.

Sure, you can say you’re simple
Like quantum physics is
But only before you learn basic algebra.

You’re right about one thing though.
You’re impressively naive,
If you think I’d be naive enough
To fall for any of that.
You better watch out, love.
You’ll be in a world of trouble
The second I break your code.

Xenophiles

Spin the globe and let’s see where we start
I’m eager to see, to hear, to learn.
Show me snow-capped mountains
Off the walls of hidden towers,
Help me climb the ancient trees
Whose flavours I never encountered,
Clad in clothes I never touched,
My belly full of flavours
I never knew could be cooked.
Teach me the languages of the world,
Of the past, present and future,
So many of them that I learn instead
To understand the language of silence,
Of the breaths and heartbeats
That hide between the lyrical sounds.
Bring me down to the meadows and rivers,
Let me kneel in front of the gods
Whose names history itself forgot
And laugh in the face of their judgments,
Hidden beneath the armour of cultures
That long predate their creation.
Lay me down on the grass, on the stone,
On the rubbery, broken streets of the world,
And let me learn in the depths of your eyes
The name and position of new constellations.
Yes. Show me so much the Heavens above
And the Hells below give up chasing after,
Until we know all of this world and,
Still hungry, always hungry, we sneak
Through the cracks of reality,
Like all writer, all readers before us,
Go savour and bask in new images,
New sounds, new feels, new tastes,
And then go create some more.
Lifetimes are never enough to satisfy
A love of foreign as deep as ours.

Krav Maga

It’s not a sport, despite the physical activity,
And it’s not a joke, despite the constant laughter.
You can see the bruises that bloom on our skin
But the real lessons we learn are hidden beneath,
Are hidden before all the flash and glamour.
Doesn’t matter how fast you can disarm a gun –
You should first learn how to never have to.

No, the lessons we learn are not what people expect.
You come in for one thing and leave with a thousand others.

You learn how to breathe, keep calm, and go on,
You learn on that shouted mantra of ‘keep going’
Until you find the force in the exhaustion,
As you push it away and jump to your feet.

You learn to use your voice, step up, and try,
You learn in the middle of that crushing circle,
Until you find the courage in the anxiety,
As you realize you know something worth teaching others.

And most importantly, most stunningly,
You learn to find yourself, stand proud and tall.
You learn it every day, in every tiring class,
Until you feel the kind pat on the back under the slap
As you find yourself having a second family, a second home.

It’s probably not every Krav everywhere, though I wish it was –
I wish you all knew how it was to have around
Such brilliant instructors, such amazing people.
It’s a strange feeling, when you find the persons
That you would confidently trust with your life,
And it’s an undescribable joy when you discover
That you can easily trust them with your soul too.

That’s what my Krav Maga is like –
A combat lesson for life, not for war;
Self defence against both outer and inner demons.

 

If anybody who reads this is in London and would like to give Krav a try, please let me know. I’d love to show you my ‘family’ 🙂