Magic

Through literature and writing, we understand our actions, our choices, and our decisions. Words without actions are…a form of art. While some actions may seem impossible, there’s always a thesaurus to shift a perspective.

I’ve encountered fiction that appear impossible in real life, but there is always a way to actualize an idea into a reality. Surprisingly, concepts such as transfiguration in the Harry Potter series, vampires and werewolves in most contemporary fantasy, or even serial murder mysteries by Doyle or Christie can be done.

How? Allow me to demonstrate.

As a child, I enjoyed reading Harry Potter. I wasn’t one of those fans who had to have a wand, or wanted a cape and rounded glasses. I simply experienced the story and wanted to know what happened next. It wasn’t until later on in life that I discovered how much literary metaphorisation I had unconsciously “experimented”.

Transfiguration and levitation were metaphors of changes in life, of rising, or ascending to a “higher self”. A better, more improved (upgraded, one could almost say) version of me.

Then there were the vampires and werewolves: the immortalized entities that I soon found were projected by textbooks that had captivated me over the years. The law books, the political theories, the philosophical doctrines, the economic downturns of the century…to name a few.

Vampires represented immortality; philosophical thinking is arguably so. They go around in circles leading nowhere except deeper into the discovery of “self”, and that constant flux of how being in the here and now causes one to feel “stuck in the present”, or “stuck in forever”, as the story goes…

Werewolves are obvious; they shift and “transfigure” at full moon. It indicates that there are cycles and moments in life that force one to reflect. Why? Because, um, the moon is…reflective…? It reflects the light from the sun, stealing a radiance that was never its to have.

Finally, murders and mysteries. Does this represent aggression and violence? Well, yes and no. Not physical aggression or violence, but a relentless anger that is channeled into destroying my demons. Into terrorizing the hell out of them. My demons see me coming from a mile away, and are either subservient to me, or they run in fear of being slayed.

I’m friends with some of them though, don’t get me wrong. Pain and Anger are fun. Pain gets me paid, and Anger keeps me awake. Anxiety and Sadness, on the other hand, seem to have found themselves a nice little hiding spot; I haven’t seen them for ages. Can’t say I miss them, they kept thinking the world was running out of oxygen so we had to conserve it by sitting around doing nothing. Strange ones, they were…

So, through literature and writing, we understand our actions, our choices, and our decisions. Words without actions are…a form of art. While some actions may seem impossible, there’s always a thesaurus to shift a perspective. Magic!

Peace!

MG

Uttering Utter Confusion

Uttering utter confusion
Amazed by a maze
Staring at the stairs
Sloping down a slope
‘Round the globe
Motions, emotions

Firing the firer
Projections of projects projected projectilely
Generations generating generators
Theorists theorizing theoretical theories
Illusionists eluding the elusive illusions
eluded by allusion alluded to allure
Allure, lure

Polarized polarities polarizing
Trail-blazers blazing trails
Unasked questioned
Unworded answers
Unwritten memories
Unforgotten fantasies

Layers of bureaucracy
Circles of philosophy
Checklists for passes
Mentality of the masses

The mass and the matter
The ladder and the latter
The aggression breeds competition
The destruction breeds reflection

The reflection leads to action
The actions evoke reactions
The reactions invoke deflections

And the only abstraction
amidst the confusion
is the invention
of a measurement
we call…

time.

Time is infinite.

Take time.
Give it time.
Never make time — take it.
Give it.
Allocate it.
But never
make time.

You are not a god.

MG

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Self-hate looks a lot like self-love.

And the only one who truly knows the difference…is…

(Scratch that)

The only ones who truly know the difference…are…all the ones around you who can feel what you feel.

MG

Couldn’t, Shouldn’t, Wouldn’t

Here’s to all who’ve ever said that I couldn’t, shouldn’t, and wouldn’t (and meant it).

To those who said I couldn’t, I appreciate the projections of self-doubt you placed upon me. You’ve taught me what it looks like to pass on insecurities that were instilled in your childhoods. From you, I’ve learned not to stunt people’s growth, you’ve taught me not to constrain them into walls, boxes, or categories.

To those who said I shouldn’t, I sincerely appreciate the caution and concern. There are some of you whose warnings I did heed, and for my own sake too: you were saving me from myself. But to those who were self-centered and not self-experienced in this regard, I appreciate how blatant you were about the lack of effort you were willing to make for me. It made it easier to gauge how much I’d exert.

To those who said I wouldn’t, it was always for one of two reasons. One, you thought my ideas too farfetched and overreached, didn’t believe that I would come up with a way to make it happen. You projected your insecurity onto me, and only challenged my intelligence to see if I’d push. The arrogance in me caved, at one point — always had to be right. Always had to have an answer for everything. I’ve learned, now, that when you properly define the problem and get to the root of it, the solution presents itself.

Second reason would be that you did believe I could come up with a method, but also that you could foresee better than I could how much effort it would truly take to convert certain dreams into reality. Thank you for humbling me, and keeping me grounded when I flew too close to the sun. Thank you for allowing me to soar, but not to get burned.

All of you, lovers and haters, makers and breakers, you’ve inspired me to be authentically me. I got caught up in the mixes of each and everyone’s insecurities, the empathy in me went mad with apathy until eventually I just reached an overload and shut down. I’m sure many of you can relate to this, we’ve all been in it together. We’ve all been running around in the chaos just trying to survive, figuring a way out, a way in, a way forward, a way backward.

But what if…what if we just…embraced all of it. It’s not about changing, friends, it’s about expanding.

My darlings, I tell you this from the heart.

You’ve come this far, not just to get this far. I did, I do, and I will do, again and again and again until it gets better and better and better.

“It’s time to more than just survive. We were made to thrive.” (Mark Hall)

Grow, expand.
Don’t change.
Embrace.

It’s less about finding yourself,
more about letting yourself be found.
MG

It’s Good to Be Back

(Disclaimer: If this post causes emotional discomfort, please confront your demons by heeding wise advice.)

I was spontaneous yesterday.

Now, for those of you who know me — it really does depend which era of me you know, now, doesn’t it?

Let’s try this again. For those of you who have known me in the past couple of years, maybe three, you’ll probably gasp when I, of all people, say “spontaneity”. And I know exactly why; I know the reasons for your surprise probably better than I let on, as I do with most things in life, to be honest.

So why was being spontaneous a big deal for me?

Because, mates, it’s good to be back.

You look at me and think, “but you didn’t go anywhere”. Physically no, but in the past two years I did go down a path I once promised myself to never venture. I promised myself I wouldn’t because of how many people I lost to it — the cancer of the mind, eating away at the soul, leaving behind a mere shell of a human body to remind us that yes, this living, breathing, entity is our responsibility.

So I left. I couldn’t leave physically — I had too many commitments out here in the city, a life I’ve spent a decade trying to build and am still dissatisfied with my efforts, knowing how far I’ve fallen when I look at how much I achieved once upon a time.

I couldn’t leave mentally — no, my brain is generally over stimulated due to intelligence, which, unfortunately for a lot of people, means I have no off-switch. I notice things. Then I understand concepts because I’ve seen it somewhere before, so I associate that and make a connection. That link tends to be more logical than emotional because I like being objective, studying the facts, understanding the patterns.

Logic is my comfort zone.

But I left, emotionally. It was one of the longest journeys I’ve ever taken — to be completely void of emotions and shut down, tuned out from the world around, still hearing details but feeling like everything is meaningless. Sometimes, this can be a good feeling, like if that emptiness is actually contentment and peace. If that emptiness is actually silence and solitude. What I felt though, was far from that.

At first.

It was a lonely emptiness, where not only did I feel like no one could relate to me, but that I hadn’t found a way to relate to myself. I was so far gone, so different, so…unfamiliar to myself. Most people think I had it done to me, that I was a victim of victimless crimes; that I was subject to whatever abuse had led me down that path. But it was my morbid curiosity, because I chose those situations knowing that I am entertained by aggression.

Aggressors find my amusement annoying. It adds fuel to the fire, pushes their limits; unable to laugh at themselves, the angry flip from aggression to full on abuse.

Of course it’s fun, it’s like that predictable explosion, a controlled avalanche.

And it’s what I do, I laugh in the face of rage. I laugh, because I understand anger, I know rage, I terrorized them a long time ago, and they are now subservient to my control. I don’t avoid it, but I generally don’t project it either. So yes, watching each and every single one of you flip out in vengeance does entertain me, because I remember what it was like to be immature.

I remember what it was like to be insecure.

But I also remember…what it’s like to be fearless in the face of insecurity.

My darlings, like I said, it’s good to be back. Oh, how I’ve missed you…

G.

The Women in My Life

(True story, biographical.)

“How do you know you’re at peace?” I asked my mother once, in my teens. She told me “when your masculine and feminine stop fighting each other, when you stop fighting yourself, that’s when you’ll find peace.” So I asked, “which side should I be then? Which one wins?” My mother smiled and said “figure it out.”

I watched, trying ever so hard to understand how my mother could be so at peace despite everything she had been through as a mother. Then I looked at both her sisters, and realised they’re made of that same metal that makes my mother who she is. Naturally, it made sense to get to know my parents’ siblings better so that I could better understand them…

In the last two years, I’ve learned that mother’s younger sister has been doing remote work from home for almost as long as I’ve been alive! What my generation aspires to do, she’s already an expert. Last month, I discovered that mother’s older sister is one of the first women who ever  wore trousers as work attire in corporate London, back in the early 80’s. When she told me this, it hadn’t even occurred to me that there was a specific “skirt / dress only” dress code.

“We were supposed to only wear skirts to work,” my aunt told me, “but skirts can get very uncomfortable, you know. So one day I put on a pair of trousers because it was more comfortable. Next thing you know, other women start doing it too. Eventually, it just became accepted in our company (Ernst and Young).”

I reflected, and pondered: it stood to reason that the strength came from my grandma. With R20 (USD 1.50) in her pocket, my grandma moved the family of ten (five went ahead, I was told, the other five came later) to the city in the 1960s during the apartheid in South Africa. As a family, they never let the Apartheid become a factor hindering them from just living their lives. When survival is your main focus, and it slowly seeps into the “norm”, you learn to embrace the better parts of life.

My grandparents always opened their homes, always welcomed those in need. Though they didn’t have much, they gave what they could: love, shelter, and a hot cup of tea. They didn’t discriminate who came through the doors. They were loving, but they were tough.

To the kids, they were very disciplined, from what I was told. Swearing warranted washing your mouths out with soap, dishes had to be cleaned immediately after dinner. Beds had to be made and tucked in completely, without an angle sticking out anywhere (although, I was recently informed that bed-making was my great grandmother’s rule). Disciplined, but always out of love. They knew that as long as the kids were disciplined enough to later be self-disciplined, then they would be able to take care of themselves.

They were right. And so it continued in the family line. I see it in my mother, I see it in how she is with our family. I know it comes from her family, that strength, that unity, that togetherness. The way she always did her best to stay strong for all of us when we were all falling apart; when we’re at our worst, she’s always the one motivating us, holding us up, comforting us and letting us know that “it’s okay not to be okay, as long as you get up again when you’re ready.”

My mother is the strongest woman I have experienced. She taught me everything I know and more, at least by providing the platforms where I, too, could become self-disciplined and self-motivated. I am where I am (literally) because yes, she birthed me, but also because she is the one woman who has always, always been there for me, through thick and thin. The one who has lifted me when I was down, but humbled me when I was arrogant. The one who can fight me when I need it, and calm me down when I diverge.

I am strong because my mother is strong. She is strong because the women in her life are strong.

So how do I know that I am at peace?

Because my masculine energy and my feminine energy are no longer at war.

I am a person, a human. A human with strength, both inner and outer; a person with emotions, both aggressive and passive. A human with weaknesses, both external and internal; a person with flaws, both on the outside and on the inside. A human with motivation, both physical and emotional; a person with compassion, both expressed and empathised. I am not perfect, but I am balanced, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.

Balanced, and equal.

Within myself.

Peace,
MG

(Re-blog from https://mikavelli.com/2017/03/09/the-women-in-my-life/ )

The Downfall of Democracy

Why are we told that Republican is the opposite of Democrat?
The whole system is democratic!

Why do people who leave their country to become independent people
complain when their country wants to leave and become
Independent People?

Why do we call them Conservative when there’s not much conservation?
Why do we call them Liberal when they are not free to speak their minds?
Why do we call it Labour when taxes favour those who don’t?

Why do they complain about the government instead of themselves,
when democracies are “by the people”?

Why do people fight to change the rules instead of first learning to play
the existing ones?
Why are we taught that rules are made to be broken,
but then are told we can change them?

We do we tax those who work,
but provide to those who don’t?

Why do we restrict those who can work for a lower salary,
then complain that they do not work?

Why do they educate all who enter their doors,
then banish them along with skills bred on their soil?

Why do they complain about their countries falling apart,
when they were the ones who abandoned it in the first place?

Why do democracies still exist if they cater only to the small percentage of elitists?

And why do those elitists,
at some point,
drop out of the game…?

Think about it.

M. Gordan