The Old Man

There are occasions where my patience and unwillingness to "seem rude" have really been positive. Usually, it just wastes my time, but then again I've always been an attentive listener. One of those occasions happened today at work, when an old man leaning on a cane hobbled over to my door.

I walked up to the building entrance where the remnants of a rainstorm was still sprinkling down. I took him as far as the entryway out of the rain and began our conversation.

The man introduced himself to me as Mansef Hailu, and upon asking what it was I could do for him, he bluntly replied "Oh, just to talk for 5 minutes." I wanted to be hospitable and invite him in for a drink of tea or coffee, but I'm not allowed to let people in. I was so conflicted. I felt so rude making the man stand in the door way, but I obliged him at least with an open ear.

He told me where he was from, what his name means, about his brothers and sisters, what there was to do in his country, and a couple of stories about his beloved mother. He didn't ask any question of me beside what my name was. He genuinely wanted someone to talk to. Looking into his eyes and seeing his joy at finding someone new and willing to listen to his words wanted to make me cry. 

I wanted to cry because I've been in this situation before with the elderly. A situation where I felt ashamed at feeling like one of the few persons to give someone in the twilight of their years the time of day.

I wanted to cry because of how happy he was to talk to me, and I, to JUST LISTEN.

I wanted to cry because I realize time and time again how something so simple is what is truly meaningful to a person. It's something that brings humans back to their roots of what we are; social, emotional beings that are living in a world we created that distances ourselves from our origins.

I wanted to cry because I wondered when he would again find me to talk to.

He told me that I was a good person, and his reasoning was simply because he could see it in my face. I told him "I don't know about that..." but he insisted. We bid each other a "God bless you" farewell and I told him that the rain had stopped and sky was parting.

He nodded, as I began to close the door he caught the handle lightly and began to sing. If I wasn't moved by our conversation already, I felt a wave of emotion run through me. Although being born and raised in his country of Eritrea, his English voice was smooth and clean. I had never heard the song before, but it was something about the rain, his cup being full, and things always getting better. He sang the tune as though it was something he knew by heart for decades. And he sang it to me.

As he finished the song, he closed the door and smiled. It was as if he had done all he wanted. His brief talk, his song, and a new friend...this was all. And I gave him 5 minutes. 

QVID AGIS?

She said, "One of the things I like most about you, is how you go wherever you want. You do whatever you want. It's refreshingly mysterious."

I cocked an eyebrow to that, because not only have I heard similar comments before, but my thought was "...and that's one of the things that I can most hurt you with."

I have lived in my present habitat for over a year now. It's the longest I have stayed in one place without some sort of long excursion away, or packing up and moving all together since...goodness...since I was 17 years old before heading to college.

I know I will always be traveling and visiting the reaches of the world, but I wonder if I will continue to roam. A part of me hopes that I will. I don't know if that part of me is habit or comfort with the normalcy of everything being temporary. Perhaps it is pure curiosity and the adventurer in my heart that want to see and experience more. 

Lead on, champion.

Light

There is a light that glows inside of me. 

It grows strong because I've worked so hard to make it so.

I've spent much effort and time shaping it to be as bright and true as it is.

The light is positive and good in it's energy.

I give it willingly to those who I think need it.

I do not give it because their lights or smaller or weaker.

In fact, some of their lights are much bigger than mine.

But my light is different and it can help them with theirs.

My light will make theirs bigger and stronger still.

I give my light to them in hopes that they will be happy.

I give my light so that they will have power to overcome their challenges.

After I give my light, I look and see the darkness of where my light once was.

It was so bright there, but now it's gone.

But, as I look into the dark, I regard with no surprise to see a spark flicker for my new light that I will make.

dolor

pain is just as much a part of life as happiness. wahh wahh wahh.

i believe this actually. but not in a depressing fashion...in fact, i think that we just have to accept that pain happens. but we shouldn't try to relive it. why put ourselves into those moments again? we can not go back and find happiness there.

when we cry i think it is because we feel helpless. 

fear
sadness
anger
joy
awe
whatever...it is...we cry in those emotions because we are in no control. we feel small; we are moved in that moment because something external has made us helpless.

i cannot think of a state of crying where helplessness is not the root of being brought to tears.

here is a photo of the eye and county hall in london that i took in 2006

Oh Boy

Before bed, I've been putting my clothes out for the next day for at least 5 years now. I can't remember exactly when I started. Hmm...it still seems useful to me.

Onto something else. 

I recalled the other day sneaking in through my girlfriend's window when I was a teenager. I think it's funny how I did such a devilish, cliche, mainstream pursuit. I feel like I never did anything orthodox or standard ever. That was fun though:

• Calling my girlfriend around midnight to see if her parents were still awake
• Parking my car a street away and running through the alley up behind her house
• Adrenaline and horniness throwing me up the 8 foot fence which led me up to the roof above the garage
• Tip-toeing across the rooftop to an empty dark window where I knew she was waiting
• Throwing one leg over into the warmth of her room where she'd practically start grabbing me
• No more words said other than "Hey there" and "I love you" for the next two or three hours
• Laying there, breathing hard and sweating in her bed, far removed from worrying about her parents suddenly coming in or checking on a noise
• Laughing with her and delaying my departure so long until the reality of 4:00 or 5:00AM forces me to look for my clothes
• Smiling at the search for my clothes which had been lustfully strewn around her room, because it recaps the moments in my head of the hours before
• Kisses at her window sill that last far too long, mostly in fear of when the next time will be that we meet
• Clumsily tip-toeing back across the roof down to the garage, jumping to the pavement and sprinting to my car because I thought I made a noise and triggered the automatic lights
• Grinning as I speed back home to my mom and dad's, trying to beat the sunrise

Man, I could die and be proud of that.

I'm on fire

waaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh fire!!

2013 has been a great year to me. And I to it.

My family is healthy, my friends are fun, women are still beautiful (most of the time), work is brilliant, traffic doesn't bother me, drinks taste great and make me feel lighter, and I cannot stop smiling. 

Truly, today was not an extraordinary day, and I'm content. That fact makes me realize my blessings. I feel closer to God when I'm sad, but being that I am happy leads me to believe that He is smiling upon me. I finally feel like I am on some sort of course. I don't know where, but I finally feel it. I don't feel that I belong here or anywhere in particular, but I'm finally accepting that. I don't know in the slightest who I will meet to spend the rest of my life with, but I finally know what I want that person to be for me, and I for her.

waaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh fire!!

I don't think that praying for things to happen gets you what you seek, but I believe that you can ask for guidance, and that you can pray for a change in perspective.

vive sine desiderium

I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him. I get taken aback sometimes with how painful our relationship has become. Like most things that are negative in my life, I ignore it. I pretend it isn't a problem and therefore it can't hurt me...except those times when it hits me.

I miss him so much. I wonder if it grieves him. I wonder if he thinks back on how close we were, how much we experienced together. He's the single-most link to my childhood, and I to his, and now we don't so much as speak. Maybe he doesn't know how to fix it. Maybe he's ashamed. 

I don't know why he ignores me. I've begged him to tell me what's wrong. I wonder if it's something I did. I wonder if he cares at all. I thought moving back home would change things. I thought I could help him. Sometimes when I think about him it's like he's so far, almost like a ghost. Like, I knew who he was, but he is no more. Which I suppose is like he died. But he's not, and that is a peace of mind. I'll be there for him when he's ready to come back to being my brother. I miss him.