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and the message is LOVE

BHLAKHROZE

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i would like to tell you a story.

its one along the lines of the politics of the personal. which i believe colours most of this life. is life. so i would like to tell you a story. it may have nothing to do with anything. its one thats already been told (never believed). never here. and what ive found is that one of the great challenges of living is this moving in so many different spaces without having to confirm. without shying away from or losing yourself. the difficulty in being yourself where reflections can so often be left wanting. it'll have you questioning what your particular relevance is. what it is you bring to where you are. in that moment at that time. have you feeling bizarre.

it paints itself as a self portrait. a day in the life. when i believe it has absolutely nothing to do with me really.

and so at continued risk of my seeming baffoonious. i would like to tell you a story AG. its a bit long. so please bear with me.

and the message is LOVE.



It was a simple idea. A very simple idea. Borne of the fact that with every Valentines Day, one is a**aulted by the usual anxieties, the usual feelings of emptiness and longing. Instead of Valentines Day being a day of love expressed, love experienced and love felt. It has become a day of feeling less. Instead of one being joyous and celebrating love, it becomes the kind of day when you are reminded of the love you feel you don’t have or need. A day of buy this, do that. Whether one agrees with it or not, abides, it remains, is there, takes place and is in your face. Some believe and share in it, as they can and others, well, choose may'kethela - that is life. Im one of those who doesn’t look forward to it, infact I ignore it most times. I didn’t want to mope this year. I didn’t want to feel alone. And I didn’t want to wait for someone to fill those spaces within me.

And so it became that I made the decision as they say to ‘be the change you want to see in the world’. I made the decision to go out there and share of the love inside of me. To go out and find within my immediate space someone/anyone and give them something. Make them feel special. Show them love. It could have been someone I know, but I think I went out with the explicit intent of finding someone I didn’t know - a child; an elderly person; those who spend their days wandering the streets lost and without; a storekeeper; street sweeper; bus conductor; someone’s housekeeper. Someone we forget and anyone who needs it. All I wanted to do was find those people and give them my love. My most ambitious thought was that they would be inspired to complete the rest of their day in much the same way. It was my simple hope just to touch and bring out the tenderness in their own hearts, like yes, it can happen to you. I wanted to tilt the angle of their frame of reference if only for a day. And maybe just maybe they would pa** it on. And it would in turn not be just one flower but many in spirit. Who knows. Ambitious, like I said. 

It turned into one of the most enriching, most fulfilling experiences of my young life. I bought 6 sunflowers and wrote out 6 little notes and tied them with ribbons. I spent the day walking about and identifying people who inspired within me a need to pa** on the love or celebrate it. What remains is that I learnt so many things about love as we perceive it or love as we think we know it. It was such a small thing and so easily thought of as insignificant and it turned out to be so profound and so giving. The lessons gathered are enduring. Give the love you think you need.


That morning I awoke to the realisation that I was actually quite scared. More like questioning, am I mad? I mean who just sommer decides to do such? I managed to force myself when I saw the poor little sunflowers looking up at me with faces pleading - but you promised. So I wrote out each little note and tied the ribbons to each stalk. Still half not believing myself, with thoughts in my head like, just how we can make what should be the easiest things the hardest.
I wasnt trying to be starting a rally. I wasnt trying to peddle anything to anyone. Wasnt asking for anything. I simply wanted to make them smile. Hopefully. And yet there I was so scared. I was afraid of being stared at, afraid of being judged by people in the street, afraid of their thoughts. Afraid of doing something a little differently. The absurdity in what we now experience as a fear in not only giving but giving of ourselves how we know and as we are. Its not always a very receptive world, as we know.
I did however eventually drag myself out, heart squealing. Committed to my own self to keep my word, no one standing over my shoulder and no one checking if I infact really did this. No one to see, applaud or validate. Just me.

There was a slight drizzle, which didnt help me much really. Grey slouching about, dampening my resolve - high treason by that gallery in the sky. Aaargggh!! Everyone was seeming so busy and intimidating. I was just like oh-my-word. I-am-positively-insane. I CANNOT BE SERIOUS. I crossed the road and nearly got myself hit by a car. The driver of which, very unimpressed with my rather obvious display of stupidity, proceeded to hoot me into a frenzy. As if I didnt have enough problems – people can be so inconsiderate. ‘Great. Wonderful start there my girl. And there I was thinking we were trying to spread good cheer.’ NOT.
I was in such a state that, the first person I saw when I made it across, found themselves with a sunflower shoved in their face. When I raised my downcast eyes I just thrust out my hand out, like, ‘here! take it!’ Clumsy to say the least, but hey its the thought that counts right? No that didnt go so well at all.

She was a housekeeper and in much of a hurry - she was quite obviously late. My efforts only served to leave her confused, which just made things even harder. ‘no! this is not how its supposed to go!!!’ cringing and everything else between, I think I whispered it. I dont remember. I probably dont want to. Happy Valentines Day I said. Gesturing with my hands, as if that helps hey. How exactly do you convey the message with your hands? Uhm hmmmm. Shaping fingers into hearts? No. It didnt go well at all. She just nodded her head and kept it moving. I stood around, stuck there. Unsure of how to move. The morning spectacle, starring me. People in their cars. Staring at me. I looked back at the house. I-cant-do-this.

Because though we intend to just give, even if we tell ourselves we are not expecting anything in return. We are. And its a small thing. It is that we want to be received. In whatever way shape or form. We want to be received.

And it became lesson number 1.
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


The Mighty Loks

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I love the way you write I think this is beautiful because it true.
As much as we love and to some extent need to feel loved we never think to show someone else love. We think twice about telling our partners we love because we fear our love might be unrequited. It's become somewhat of a crime to just love and not have it returned or even just being told we are loved. We've become so hungry for love that even when we have it for someone else we keep it to ourselves in hopes that it will fill whatever void we have.
You gave "love" to someone who probably needed it more than you can ever imagine and I think that's beautiful. It was a simple flower and note to you, could've been a sign of hope to a perfect stranger.


BHLAKHROZE

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I thought I couldnt do it, but I did. I kept walking. I think something in me became intrigued at the point where I realised that this wasn’t going to be easy. No breeze. And I was in no position to turn back. Often stubborn, I was just like I believe in this. I want to do this. Ive been wanting to do this, and now I’m out the gate. Here I am. And now I want to see where this will go, I want to know. I want to give myself and it a chance. I accepted that I was scared, that I was afraid. Afraid of other people. As if we should be allowing what other people think or perceive of us to deter us in fully expressing and experiencing our own being. Nothing more, no taking away from, just being. Just that. Just the opportunity to unfold. Just to try and live in the vision of our highest selves. To allow ourselves to be led by our hearts in the face of what can be such grave uncertainty.
For however scarred we are with time, our hearts silently always know better and as such we catch ourselves entangled. Spend our days battling ourselves. I accepted the fear and gave it its space. I didnt deny it. And I took away its power. I decided that it was worth being stared at for.

Thinking I couldnt. I did. I walked on. Taking comfort in the happy flowers clasped tightly in my hands. I decided again. And I decided that I would miss this experience if I couldnt allow myself the joy of it.

I came upon a man and his small son, who must have been about 4 or so. Taking a morning stroll they were. He had his son sitting atop his shoulders, swinging his legs wildly. And the smile in mans eyes, it made me smile. And I again crossed the road, zigzagging in between the impatient morning traffic. I was so inspired in my heart. I raised my head, walked firm and said, 'hi, i just wanted to celebrate your love'. The story of Men and flowers, it amuses me highly. Ive never had a problem doing it, and ive gotten some boy in a highly laughable situation before. I gave him flowers in the presence of friends, before i wisened up and understood that apparently its only okay for men to give not receive flowers. 'Oh! okaaay'. Cant say its stopped me though, only now I chuckle when I do. So I chuckled and handed it over. He smiled and said thank you. Turning to gave it to his boy. I have the memory of them walking up the road, that flower in the air.

Lesson Number 2. Though we should not seek exclusively of a love outside ourselves, we can allow ourselves to be moved enough by it to celebrate the love within. We can still partake in a love that does not necessarily belong to us and rejoice in it. In being happy for it for its own sake, it has the ability to bring out our own. And its a cycle. For ours can come forth and affirm.

and love is made strong.
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


Myth

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K
its possible to take the art of making music seriously without taking yourself seriously

www.myspace.com/mythbeats101


BHLAKHROZE

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There were a few more sunflowers, all smiling faces and nodding heads. Sunflowers say yes. They say hello. There were a few more. And the journey, it continues.

Encouraged, I felt more confident and I welcomed the spring in my step. The sun was also beginning to play ball. I got on the train - which is just a story for another day, a train ride will have you experiencing things. stories of past lives for future lives.

I sat facing all the other pa**engers, their beady eyes stealing furtive glances at the bundle of joy I was nurturing on my lap. Lucky girl im sure they thought, well those of them who even knew that it was Valentines Day - coz i mean now really what with electricity shortages and and and and, the people are preoccupied. Sometimes we have bigger problems than merely spreading the love. Its normal.
We are so curious. Human beings. We instinctively want to know. Why is she carrying flowers? Where did she get them from? Why? Or maybe where are they going? Is something wrong? Whats the occasion? Questions. Lingering. Unspoken, but heard. Questions boring into me. Internalising their questions gave birth to my own. Again. I wondered why I was doing this to myself, putting myself in this position. But again, I remembered just how much it mattered to me.

A couple caught my eye, all Touristy looking. How did I know? I dont know. Dont ask. They just did. The woman nestled gently against the mans shoulder. Comfortable. I stared. I stared at them. Stared at my lap. Thought. Wondered. Wanted. Couldnt. Rationalising that there was no need to cause some kind of a stir, that it would be better, no, best to wait. Wait until the train came to its stop. As if love should be postponed. As if it can. 'you check your diary whilst i consult the stars. pray for a miracle'. As if love is something to be ashamed of, suitable only in corners. Always stolen. And I changed my mind. Or my mind changed me. Give or take.
 
I got up and negotiated myself into the space closest to them. How I wished, suddenly, up there already, how i wish i had written some kind of speech. Some kind of preparation. Its all good and fine this 'it must come from the heart' business people like to talk about. All talk. pity bout how the heart takes moments out and revels in a rich culture of listening to feeling. goes silent and hums to itself. A 'do not disturb' sign all of its own. So my story, hastily stitched up and simple. 'Im loving you in the right now because im loving how you are loving'. They were delighted (tourists!). She blushed. And yes they were tourists, Belgians.

When I stepped off. I was a girl who had done something a little more than give flowers. I reminded someone that not everyone is looking for or wants whats in your pocket. Not everyone will go to great lengths to hurt you for it.


There are people living here.

3.
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


The Mighty Loks

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When I stepped off. I was a girl who had done something a little more than give flowers. I reminded someone that not everyone is looking for or wants whats in your pocket. Not everyone will go to great lengths to hurt you for it.


There are people living here.

3.

 :-X  :'(



The Angry Hand of God

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Wow Rhozie.

I was gonna say something sarcastic, but I don't think that would be appropriate. I feel very inspired now.

I'm gonna go buy a 12-pack of fetherlites and spread some love among the ladies of 7th.




BHLAKHROZE

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Lesson number 4 involves that minor but not so minor matter of rejection. When we preempt it, play safe and never build anything worth building. Or when we do infact encounter it and get stuck, allowing a void to steal our dreams and leave us missing ourselves.

Lesson number 4 involves the minor yet not so minor matter of rejection.

Ive been thinking about whether or not this particular moment marks this experience most for me. Im still thinking on it. Because then the worst thing that could happen did indeed then happen to me, the unexpected, unforseen. That unacknowledged, ever present fear of a big resounding NO. It echoes.

Three sunflowers were left and I returned to a place where I had previously been the day before. I had seen someone there. She sat in the middle of it all, with vacant eyes. When you are there but you are not. I have moth to flame tendencies I am now realising this about myself. That space that shuts me out most is where you will find me hovering about. Knocking. I will be that person who saw the person who was either not trying to be seen, didnt care or is just never seen and has grown accustomed to it. Accepts it and wears it as armour. I have the tendency to be drawn exactly where I am needed. Sometimes. Its me who is the one in need. Unbeknown. It just happens like that. And it is not to say I always know what it is that the moment asks of me nor what it brings. Then again which of us can say we have always walked with clarity. So I wait. I wait until I see. Ever the keeper of the moment, you will find me hovering about. Knocking.

I spoke to her the day before. I had managed to get myself lost, in my own backyard no less - this business of how you will go and return and see the place with new eyes. I got myself lost somehow. I had turned to her for help. She was quite disinterested. She didnt know she said. She didnt try. She bordered on rude. I have certainly experienced a great many things in my young life, more than I could have ever imagined I would but I am still naive. For that is what its called this. Whatever this is. This state. When I still get affected, surprised when people are unduly nasty. Maybe I do live in a bubble, maybe I do. Maybe I choose to. Is it any wonder. I must believe for there would be nothing left, were we to negotiate with the world on its own terms. Maybe I cling onto this purposefully, pa**ionately, with everything I have. For it is in truth all we have. It is what we share. And in me can live the hope of something different. 'each one. teach one'. So I get upset. I ask people who are mean to me in the street why. I ask. And I wanted to ask her but I thought the better of it. And where I should have just walked away. I came back the next day. With a flower for her.

She sat in the company of her memories. A make shift stall. Her small a**ortment of wares. Earrings. Scattered like a fragmented rainbow. And there was sunshine once im sure. A young girl, she looked a few years older than me at most. She could have been me or I. Her. I knew. Already. This is what I think now. I knew. When i walked in. My lips shy. My heart attempting to reason with me, thereby committing treason. You know the feeling. We all do. When you are going to knock on the door of a heart that peeks at you through the windows of the eyes. And you see the curtain close again. And you are left outside. I knew when I came back. And yet I came back. I knew she would say no.

She said NO.

And I stood there trying to say something, navigating the sky of silence between. People pa**ing. Staring. I stood there with people staring at me. Straining their necks out of their stores. With little understanding or no understanding. And perhaps there was no need. There was the flower. There was my hand. A bridge. There was the giving. And there was her head shaking. Saying no. There was the time it took, my hand held in place. The message stuck somewhere within the universe of my being. There was the time it took for me to register what she was saying. and then there was the time it took for me to realise that I would have to withdraw my hand. People were staring.

I choked on my silence and I asked her why. And she just shook her head, gave no explanation, but still I didnt move. I found myself trying to say to her, 'but its just a flower, dont you like flowers?' Who wouldnt want a flower? Just out of the blue? I wanted to stay, I wanted to sit down with her. I wanted to know, what would make her say no. I wanted to understand I kept telling myself, frustrated and unable to communicate. This simple flower. Only me in communication with the world. And I was behaving like people dont say no, trying to dig deeper when these things just happen. It happens. It is only when through the corner of my eye I saw the taunting petals of a most red rose sitting next to her. I looked down. Turned my head. Looked down. Looked back up at her. Into her eyes. Only then understanding something I still dont understand. I just made my peace. For this sunflower was simply not meant for here.

There is something liberating about being embarra**ed. Or humiliated. Whichever way you would perceive it. There is something terribly liberating about it. Should you recover, no, when you recover, fear will no longer be some suffocating possibility. Fear will have turned into the wind. It will blow. Come. And go. go. go.

I literally looked into the face of rejection and got it. I got it. I found my smile and thanked her for helping to make me fearless. I experienced so much there and I left thankful. full.

Lesson 4 is about rejection.

And you will 'bless the thing that curses you'.

- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


BHLAKHROZE

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We trip and fall and meet ourselves, stumble upon our lessons.

Its not always that you are actively seeking paths to your highest self, you wont always be aware of it. Its not always that you know that that is what you are doing.

You will surprise yourself.

Ego more than a little bruised, I slouched from the scene of the crime. Head facing the ground. It wasnt easy this, this walking away. An unresolved mixture of humiliation and sadness, failure claiming the corners of my soul. A battle to not take it personally. My throat parched. Dry with the burning of the scream threatening to bring me to my knees. I was trying. Somehow. Trying to imagine that it may have had nothing to do with me. I wanted to cry. I may infact have let a tear or two. just two. slide down my now broken face. Unannounced. Unwelcome. They went unnoticed by the world.

I bit my lip, chewed the inside of my right cheek and staggered across the street. I pa**ed a woman selling flowers, we shared a silent greeting. I pa**ed an old man selling a magazine whose proceeds are shared between its producers and the street people who sell it. I smiled at a child who followed my footsteps with his eyes, he enamoured with the two remaining flowers - their faces drooping. I was now dragging them and something else was dragging me. We were just above the ground, its enough to tire any braveheart. Even in its telling. Its enough to tire.

I just kept walking. Walking. Walking. Walk the talk theyll tell you. And I walked. Walked straight into the next recipient. As it goes. I hesitated. Time is the best healer they say and I who had no time. had not healed. I hesitated. Wilting.

It was a number of seconds. I mean afterall, whats a second hey. Everything. A man lay on the ground, his back balanced against the face brick wall. It kept him upright. He had no shoes on, wearing pants and a tshirt. A torn red shirt. Worn. It alone told his tale. And there is no rest for the weary. There were scars across his face, his were those of one whose fight has been between him and every pa**ing day of this life. Disappointment flickering occasionally. We stood together in the moment. Jaded. He had a rusted tin can in his hand, rattling it with the few coins already inside. That sound. The only audible language of his long quietened soul.

I stood there a while. Afraid again. Doubting myself. I wished I wasnt such an upstart, I wished I could control my emotions better. So easily moved and affected so by the landscape. Wishing I was someone else. Somewhere else. Its the feeling of that doubt, when things dont go our way. When they never do. Spun by the odds. Unsure and left at the mercy of life. I wanted to give it to him, this much I knew. But it was so hard. It was so hard to step out again. My remains tarnished. Labelled 'FRAGILE': HANDLE WITH CARE. I stole a glance, the humdrum of people living their lives, oblivious to my now growing discomfort. Late afternoon grocery shopping, friends grabbing some frozen yoghurt. I think I wondered what flavour the one girl had chosen. Wondered why I didnt just grab some myself and forget about this nonsense of making other peoples days. People who would forget. People who didnt care. People who didnt want me to in the first place. It seems like I stood there waiting for the future. When it was all in some inconsequential matter of seconds. whats a second you say. Everything.

The difference between the me I was and the me I could be. The me I want to be. the me I am becoming.

My biggest issue was that I felt inadequate. I felt self indulgent. Irrelevant. Like how dare I walk around feeling all good about myself giving people flowers when what they need is food, shelter, warm water to bring them into the new day, watermelon when they too crave it. Giving them symbols of love when they cannot feel it. When what they need is to feel it. When no flower however beautiful, however well intentioned, can never quell that discordant humming noise that lives within them -the one called hunger. No flower can grow arms and hug away abandoment. My thoughts were uncomfortable.

But too, there is a part of me that had had the bruising. That was now ready, poised to kick down the door and save me from myself. And so I bent down and smiled. I gave him what was his. I didnt explain this time. I just watched. He smiled. Clapped his hands. He in turn gave to me his glee. He smiled so wide that man. He smiled so wide and it was the perfect gift for him on that day. Hope pa**ing through in the blistering heat. Our hope.

The theory. Its not complicated, doesnt wind down some dark alley of the mysterious mind. Leading you astray. In it, you are found.

For as long as it can remain possible, then too can it be inevitable. For as long as you can still get up. Its not over.

sound like lesson 5.
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


BHLAKHROZE

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And so it is that this story/moment/journey it ends then now. And lessons 1 through to 5 come together, become one. Captured in this one last act. Lesson 6.

I returned home. Found an empty clear gla** vase, rinsed it, wiped it down and poured in some water. I placed it against the window, with the fading sun in the background as canvas. I cut the stem shorter. Stood back and smiled. And kept the last flower for myself. LOVE YOURSELF: Wholely. Healthily. With a balanced yet abundant humility. Give to yourself too. You count.

Change you and you change the world.

It must start with you.


...spirit moves...
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -



Mrs Jones

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I initially wrote something but thought nah let me rather not. I'm bringing this thread up because I think that such informative threads or threads that just make you stop and think should always be brought up once in a while so that people, who had not read it nor seen it before, can feast their eyes.

Beautiful writing there BHLAKHROZE and the story made me shed a tear or two because I could relate.
All my life I had to fight. I loves Harpo, God knows I do. But I'll kill him dead 'fo I let him beat me.


QuinDEeh

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Thanks kelis, must say i've never come across it, just the kinda inspiration i needed rite about now. I myself shed a tear or two. Yes. Just two.
Rhozie u need to publish a book, i'd buy it!
is a royal thing..


BHLAKHROZE

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oh no ways you guys. what. wow.

here i am bringing my begging bowl to soul amazin' and then im like no ways. wow. aawww man. thank you. i even forgot about this. im like shaking my head. then there was this day also then. hey crazy business. there was this day. im like no ways. and i am reminded.

QuinDEah i believe ill hold you to that.

thank YOU for giving it meaning then you know. thank YOU. youve just made it worth it. you take care.

xxx


...and the message IS...yes.
- soul activist. poet. flower. fairy -


Anna Sasin

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i don't know you...but i heart you rhozie
keep it up,don't become weary or deterred
You are your best thing! - Toni Morrison (Beloved)