Doormat

Writing my pain away, am I?
Is this even a solution?

I feel like a coward

Hiding behind my pen

Life is happening on the outside

While I lay here not participating

Am I protecting myself?

Or am I too scared to live?

How did I become this person?

Unreservedly and entirely dead inside

I am full of unmet needs

Just plain old miserable   

But I do desire change

God yes I do, I do

But too beaten and bruised

And confidence, what is that?

This is what happens when 

You roll in the mud for long

You become one with the mire

Unrecognizable, lost and left to die

This is your life, darling

Your only time here on earth

Don't blame people or circumstances

For stepping on a doormat

Falling in love with Jesus

I have lived long enough on this earth to have the cognizance of what makes people fall in love, stay in love and even run out of love. The sweetest, cutest, honest, or the niftiest is not going to cut to the chase. Having an extraordinary partner doesn't seem good enough. Is it because the human heart is crazy or are we unsatiable? It is secret option number three.


Before we go there, why isn't our heart "fully" satisfied? That is because the heart is not a simple love machine, it is complex, preposterous and has an impermeable layer of purity that worldly love cannot pour into. You may think I am making this stuff up , but you're welcome to verify and research and even take a moment and reflect. How much ever a person loves you, treats you well, trusts you, appreciates you, floods you with goodness, there is vaccum and loneliness lurking somewhere in your heart. The love your heart earns is of Jesus.

I was a tramp

People who know me think I am this Jesus fanatic, obsessed, walking in the sides, coloring within the lines goodie churchie girl. They couldn't be more wrong. There is also this idea that I am religious - wooah! I didn't want to befriend Jesus you know, because let's be honest. It didn't make sense. If I am screaming in pain and want someone to get me pizza and chocolate, He isn't going to be my friend and show up at my doorstep. So what does it really mean to call Jesus your friend?

I live with this understanding, that even people who love you the most cannot sometimes help you. This is true because, they are also people and there is only so much humans can do that can heal the heart. Inversely, Jesus can do better than a human. He is not just better than human help but there is nothing beyond Him.

I find myself wondering atimes if my devotion to Jesus is because I cannot find a truer friend than Him or is it because I love Him? Its a fine line. Sure, I love that He spoils me with goodness. But that's not it, He really understands. He is open to my imperfections. He is accepting of my flaws. He is not judgemental. He is patient. He believes in me. He is my cheer leader. He encourages me to do better. He wants me. He desires me. His heart longs for me, 

Why then would I mot fall in love with Him!

Things not going the way you want is what's life's all about.

Even the nicest gesture, the kindest intent and the warmest smile can be misconstrued. It is the play of fate or God or simply a matter of what it is. Its the stuff of the great beyond. We may not know why the things that happen, happen. Some for good, some for worse. But in all this, the Lord God - the creator of the universe protects our soul. He never lets our heartbreak for no reason. There is always a learning in whatever experience we go through. And I for one, want to learn to be excited and thankful for the unfortunate hands that come my way, because they come bearing rich lessons. That's how well-rounded (pun not intended:P) I want to become.

Much love,

Jen

Fear

She sat in the frontiers of her mind; monstrous and mighty.

A shrill voice escaped, don't let her in, don't let her linger.

Screams of anguish suppressed by rigour, here will I stay and here will I rest.

Vices of the past and wrongs of the youth thrusting her soul, wrecking her wit. 

Burning breath of hatred, bitterness, guilt and shame coiling her frail, frail.

I let you in, I gave you room. But its time you leave. You simply must go.

She laughed like a thunder and danced like a drunkard.
Oh, I am not going, this is my home; here will I stay, together with you.
I will conquer by the fright of your heart, cremate your dreams and clobber your plans.

What should I do, oh what can I give, 
for you to just leave and turn not around?

Well, I may never go. I may never leave. But someday I might, 
once my spineless friend 'timid' moves out of here.

Why I can do this myself

Yo, what's going on? Why are you all quiet and ish..

Its funny you should ask, because you're the one acting all weird and distant.

What? What do you mean I am being aloof. You're the one sitting alone, not talking to anyone, having a long face and giving a hissy fit.

Yeah, I know. Am just feeling a little low. That's all.

But why?

I don't know, yaar.

Hm, is it something I did. I have a tendency to wander off and dig up dirt from our past. Then I keep replaying it, you know me right...

Am not sure, man. Am just not happy with myself.

Whaaat? are you kidding me? You have no reason to feel bad, ok!
You are working every day, doing your part and not hurting anyone.
We can say that you even help around a bit.
Can you do better? Yes, you could do better, but you're trying and that's everything.
Don't beat yourself up.

I don't know man, its just taxing you know, this adulting. 

So many things to juggle. You think you're doing enough, but is it really enough?

 I don't know, man. This is getting deep. I mean, I am not losing per se. 

So what! That doesn't mean am winning either. Am I? 

Ugh!! Guess am just anxious. Overthinking as usual. Stupid me.

It's good to keep a tab on your thoughts, weigh out your feelings
to just see for yourself where you're at, its good babe. Healthy even.
Just don't go bonkers, aight? Let it be.

You're right man, I need to calm down and relax. 

Thanks for being a friend and cheering me up. I feel a lot better.

Come on! Isn't that why I am still here, beating for you.

B e    y o u r    o w n   f r i e n d

Moved to tears: a story on sisterhood

The benediction was given and the congregation was dismissed. Edith walked to the pulpit from behind to meet the minister. She was stopped by Jane to her surprise and they exchanged pleasantries and friendly hugs. Edith was 36, married and with kids. She had a calm, charming and contagiously giggly personality. Jane was 5 years younger and they both knew each other through the years of attending the same church and being in the same fellowship. 

Jane told Edith, as her face turned warm and her eyes moist, 'remember me in your prayers sis, in the new year at least God should grant us a blessing.' and looked away poignantly. Edith understood her inference and took Jane's hands in a firm clasp and said tenderly, 'I have been praying for you everyday. I see you every week, and I know how you must be feeling being the only one left among your friends. Many of us are praying and God will certainly bless you. Keep your faith, the Lord will do great things for you.' 

As cool springs in a parched desert, Edith's words moistened Jane's weary heart, and as she looked up to give her a final peck and leave, she was stunned to see a heavy drop of tear slide down Edith's face.

Jane's pain was seen in Edith's eyes. They hugged again.

Why I write even when I don't want to write

If you arrived here because you too were hell pissed about wanting to write something but not having the mind to write; yet not able to let go of the urge to write because you want to be writing nonetheless. Yes?

[Hi-Fi, deep breaths, take a seat.. lemme hold your hand]

I get you. I really do.

If I had a rupee (I'm Indian) for every time I mosey around, giving myself a pep talk while searching my brain for topics that would accelerate me to write, I would be buried in my own wealth. 

Writers don't worry about coining words, they worry about the message in their words.

To slap something together and call it a piece is not a writer's metier. For a simpleton who wants to be paid by the hour for completing 2000 words and submit, can do just that and sleep alright. But not for someone who sees their craft sacred, who would wallow in the warmth of toasty words and would proofread and edit to the point of losing the plot. To be a writer is to have one's thoughts translated into soulful words.

There is always something to write. Don't let your mood or the situation in your life or the crap you had to take that day dictate or discourage you from picking up your pen and paper. Oh-kay, or opening your word processor! Smh. Your day should be done only after you make sweet love with words because that's how much you should be in love with writing. A writer should not thrive on motivation, just inspiration and that's exactly why this post is up!