The Full Circle

The full circle- the class of character. What is it really?
Like many theorists of life these days, I would like to pick your brain on the matter but first, allow me to add ‘new colours to your paint box’.

Regardless of the path we embark upon, we’re all dealt the same hand that plays out in circles. Bringing light to the phrase “what goes around, comes around”, which in retrospect is an understatement, to say the least.

Our journey is a culmination of relationships. Putting aside inanimate objects, the relationship we have with our family, friends, peers, colleagues, pets or and even a stranger all run its path into a full circle. An Infinite loop until we wither away.
As staunch critics of our true inner self, we are given the power to choose from what needs tending to and those that don’t deserve our attention. Like a gardener, we weed out that which doesn’t belong there.

The Mark of Potential
We all start ordinarily, the sprouts of new beginnings! As time goes by, and with the labours of our work, we begin to see the bloom of a familiar fragrance and eventually the fruiting of the moment that grafts the value of our relationship. Now heed the warning, this moment right here is what I call, the ‘Note of salvation‘ that we carry forward with us.
I find that happiness is doled out in equal measure. When the tables turn: The moment of bliss that solidifies the relationship will reverse itself into an entwinement of chaos.
So to speak, the people that once enriched your life with happiness will someday, equally be a turbulence.
‘I choose you to hurt me the most.  It is only those we let in, have any kind of impact on us.  After all, we are hurt by many but broken by few.

Crossroad of the critics
At this juncture, we find ourselves in the throes of analysis. Where the wager of time comes to collect its debt.
Here lies the crossroad of the critics; evaluating and measuring up the worthiness of evergreen moments to the bitterness at the hour they wronged us.
Ultimately, it is we who decide who can further their roots within us.
The fortress of power now rests in our judgement. To rule out and let wither on the vine or grant pardon and gradually as time nurses our restless spirit, welcome the offspring of a new circle.

Who is it that you see?
In the end, however, the finger that points will someday be the same one that points back. It is easy to embrace the good moments but in times of conflict, your character will be put into question. Do you have the courage to salvage what once occupied your time or flake out and leave it behind? They say, ‘You can dish it out but can’t take it’; Were they probably right?  

For this pictorial theory, the grand design of the circle is illustrated with the cycle of the olive tree; The rich complex flavours that olives bring to the table and in comparison, as do relationships. Also, adhering to the fact, that not all olive trees bear fruit. Similarly, some relationships run their course and that’s alright.

Stemming from the concept of the Olive branch, the full circle is a constant reflection of one’s inner self. Does our character take shape in choosing to embody what we believe or weigh more on what we do instead?
I believe the full circle applies to us all, in multiple forms, across several junctures through life. In the end, the reflection of a thousand faces comes together as one. The stranger staring back hold traces of the people you once knew and left behind. The test wasn’t theirs to take. The judge of character now sentences you.

‘Is it fair?’, you ask. The question is… were you?
“The eulogy you’d write for others will find its way back to you”.
This is my epiphany, the dawn and dusk of another theory that has been sent into the digital void.

Some friendships are made for storytelling

The Pulse of Art

10/7/2015

There is a ringing truth in the art of expression.
The composition of music for instance, is penned with the singularity of a passionate moment;
-The lyrics weightlessly carried through the tune harbors the passage of time, the inescapable memory of the artist.

However, with the transition through generations, falling on a different set of eyes/ears each time, it is morphed from its origin- misplaced and misinterpreted.
The truth is lost in oblivion.

Perhaps there is beauty  in it somewhere. Despite its distinguishable contrast, it offers refuge to an unsuspecting stranger. A connection in the place of perspective with the innate subconscious ability to reflect and project one’s state of mind unto another.
We do after all, see people as we see ourselves while the echoes of music untwine wired thoughts.

Daisy and the bone!

As the little things go

In honour of Mother of Noor

A moment in time

Distorted frequency

To the best version of ourselves,

We are a work in progress. 
 We're the miracle we've been waiting for.
 Not defined by circumstances 
 -certainly not prisoners of defeat.
 The red flags we let slide are the deal breakers in our stride.
 -To turn ourselves in, to the dreams we strive. 
 Responsibility is the burden we do not wish to carry, yet here we are alphas of our destiny. 
 We rise to the occasion in our forsaken attire of valour. 
 To those who chance upon the rhythm we tread,
 bare witness to the gleaming badge of a misfit statured against our chest. 

• 

– The promise of the unsubdued.

Here in the Now

Retreat to the hillock of forgotten dreams. Bathe in the moment without racing towards change.
They hardly hit or they come at once,
May time remind you -it will all too soon be taken away.

“Forever is composed of nows“
-Emily Dickinson

So swim in this feeling and ride its waves; It is what this time was created for.
Don’t reel in, don’t let go.
They are coming for us in the showers of awakening, and we will take them in battered armour, down to our mindful rest.

“So if I’m inside your head
Don’t believe what you might have read
You’ll see what I might have said
To hear it,
Come waste your time me…”
– Waste, Phish.

A version of what we were is left to debate;
As sparks from lyrics lie buried in the heart of yesterday.
To the hills we run to build our wall of memories.
An altered reflection, purposeful and free,
-We tread onwards leaving behind forgotten dreams.

‘Cause in the end all you really have are memories.
-unknown

Goodbye birdie

Familiarity is a perfume that slowly starts to fade with time.

When will the memories ready itself for the closet? -Its water under the bridge.
There must be a road in this place that doesn’t share a resemblance of what was before.
By now I should know;
Change will never accept bygones.
They are where they were last seen, where they rightfully belong.

The sun will set its plan for tomorrow.
All that you have and all that you can ever own is in the moment.
If this was beautiful, let pain inspire rather than cripple.

Dear old times,
I miss the ring of your innocence, the laughter of oblivion
-But to give the present a chance and for the future to have its way,
I fear I must let you go.
I will treasure it all, just like how it used to be
-As the next season takes me to newer dreams.