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Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul

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Life Lessons

Blink- A Mother’s Fear

Blink

blink

Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.  It seems like it was yesterday that I gave birth to my first born and just delivered my second this morning.  It seems like I was holding onto them in the hospital wondering how I can do this, how and when did I become a mom.  Cradling them in my arms and holding on tight in fear that I miss a blink.  Watching their face and lips and fingers and promising that I will always be there.

Then I blinked.

And here I am planning my first boy’s birthday party.  You see, he wants a pirate themed party because at four years of age he can talk and decide.  He comes to me with feelings and ideas and jokes and pranks.  Wasn’t he just my newborn?  Wasn’t I rocking him to sleep and trying to figure out how to put his diaper on?  Wasn’t I scared to give him a bath all by myself and felt that great achievement when I finally summed up the courage?  Where did that baby go?

Then I blinked.

And my second boy was walking and talking.  He’s a funny fellow who imitates everything he sees and loves to dance.  He too has things he likes and he too can decide whether he wants to go out or stay in (he always decides to go out of course.)  Where did my baby go?  Wasn’t I crying for fear of not being there for him, for fear of not giving him the care I gave his brother, the undivided attention and the hours spent alone?  When did he grow up and what did he eat?

And now I am too afraid to blink.

Too afraid to miss a milestone, too afraid to miss out on a smile or a tear.  I am too afraid to be unavailable, to not know what they feel or what they like.  I am too afraid to miss out on the hours of the days that make them happy, too afraid to have someone else influence them.  There’s so much to do and so little time.

How can I schedule music classes, self defense classes, homework, and fun time when they’re older?  It’s all fun time and I barely seem to be holding on to my sanity.  It’s all fun time and I miss them at the end of every single tiring day.

Oh yes, the days are long… sometimes much too long… much too tiresome but in the end they are limited.  Create memories one day at a time and honestly, try not to blink.

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The Frog Princess- Truth

via Image Writing Prompt #39

‘Are you a frog or a prince?’

‘A princess actually.’

‘I was just kidding I didn’t expect you to talk.’

‘Why not?’

‘This is not real!’

‘Define real’

‘Anything that is tangible. Anything we can use our senses to identify’

‘I beg to differ. There are intangible things that are real too. Things we know in our minds which cannot be clearly conceptualized’

‘Such as?’

’The truth’

‘Is the truth real?’

‘It depends. Is it my truth or your truth?’

‘My truth, of course.’

‘Your truth is real for you but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s real for me’

‘Give me an example’

‘Flies, to me, taste good. This is the truth I reached have used my sense of taste. I don’t think you would prefer flies over whatever you had for breakfast this morning’

‘Why isn’t there one truth for us all?’

‘Because that means we have to conceptualize things the same way, but we don’t have the same senses nor do we share the same thoughts.’

‘How is it that we need to use our limited and subjective senses to conceptualize and define our personal intangible truth, and then hold onto it without questioning the lack of logic behind our theories? If we need to define the truth with our senses does it mean that our senses are superior to the truth?’

‘It means we are blessed with the tools to think but what we do with these tools are entirely up to us. Some people use these tools to live their days and some use these tools to find out more about what we are doing on this world and the truth we all seek.’

‘Do all living creatures seek the truth?’

‘Some already found their truths and are living happily’

‘What truth should we be looking for?’

‘A good truth to start searching for is why you stopped to talk to a frog? What truth are you coming from?’

‘Ah but that is not the question here, princess. The question is why do you consider yourself a princess where I can clearly see you as a frog’

‘Is that true?’

‘It’s true for me’

‘If I see myself as a princess then that’s my truth regardless of what you see’

‘You are a frog’

‘And you think so because you see that using your subjective biased and limited sight?’

‘Yes’

‘And you are basing your theory on your subjective, biased, and limited senses?’

‘Yes’

‘Then, my dear child، you have learned nothing’

Self Perception

Elegance

model-clipart-womens-7

With the bombardment of young, skinny, and tall girl pictures on every conceivable media, we normal people start questioning ourselves.  The idea that these images are photoshopped just helps us sleep at night as we try to ignore the gorgeous girls we meet face to face in reality.  Well, guess what?  It doesn’t matter how these women look, it matters how you perceive yourself.

Right?  Isn’t this what we are told to teach our daughters?  Aren’t we supposed to show them that inner beauty is all that matters even though snapchat filters are great for your pride?  Images of 14 year old girls then vs. 14 year old now are hilarious and yet, so not hilarious because of what they represent. Maybe she’s born with it?  Maybe it’s makeup or maybe it’s plastic surgery.

In my brainwashed mind, I’ve come to perceive tall and skinny as beautiful and elegant.  When a tall and skinny lady wears a dress, it looks good.  It basically falls on her with so much grace that the short and stubby will never have because when she wants to wear a long dress she needs to have it first altered to be her length and then she needs to buy grandiose heels to compensate for the lack of height.  She also needs a corset or a ridiculous diet for a few years in advance.

Also, tall girls have longer legs.  Do you understand that?  They have more “leg”.  They also have more “arm” and more “torso”.  So their weight gets divided around and the 150 pound tall girl looks great but when it comes to the 150 pound short girl she “needs to lay off the carbs.”

Well, in my mind, I am tall and skinny.  I will always love to eat my carbs and I will always have less “leg, arms, and torso” to distribute my weight.  Because of my predisposition towards elegance being for the tall and skinny, I think I have altered my self perception to that of a model because I don’t hate myself.  I actually like myself very much and don’t mind the extra pounds around.

Yes, in my mind I’m tall, skinny and elegant.  #grateful

Relocate

Relocate

 

tree

The world is vast and the opportunities endless.  It is our perception of values that keep us planted into areas we no longer wish to be.  Roots that no longer exist in this age where every person watches out for himself.  Gone are the days where neighbors cared to watch over your children as you get yourself a haircut and gone are the days where you can expect people to care about you.

Family ties are weakening.  It is the naive who think otherwise and who hold onto the hope that Sunday family dinners make a difference.  What difference when we are distracted by the outside on the tips of our fingers?  Children stopped visiting their mothers and don’t ask about their fathers anymore.  Days go by, weeks pass, and months turn into years if we let them because we think that we can easily relocate into somewhere with less responsibilities.  Yes, the world is vast and the opportunities endless, but where would you relocate?  And if you choose to relocate, would it really make a difference where you go?

Humans are social creatures and the lone wolf cannot survive without a pack, one way or the other.  We are not sole survivors nor can we delete all roots that connect us to our past.  We can relocate our bodies but can we relocate who we are in the midst of the hazy lines between cultures, races, and countries?  Are we turning into global citizens or are the homogeneous clusters we see around a representation of the roots we ignore?  Can we really merge or will we always have our differences?

Are we ready to relocate our minds before our bodies or is breaking new ground the hip thing to do?  Yes, we are not trees and we can move but we must move our perceptions to understand that sometimes relocating does not necessarily mean forgetting who we are.

Rain

From Dreams of a Blue Moon

rain

Walking on the street

under the pouring rain

nothing seems sane

all are insane.

 

Walking on the street

under the pouring rain

people with hearts

people with brains.

 

Walking on the street

under the pouring rain

people in hugs

people in chains.

 

Walking on the street

under the pouring rain

people who lose

people who gain.

 

Walking on the street

under the pouring rain

people in pain

people in pain.

 

Don’t Look Back

One-Way

 

looking-back

Life takes us forward for a reason.  Things that happened in the past should stay in the past; you should only carry the lessons you learned forward.  People you once knew and no longer know shouldn’t be thought of, you are just wasting your time paying attention to a minor detail that no longer matters in the course of your life.

Seize your day.   Be happy where you are and live in the moment.  There are many things we take for granted and cannot see because our eyes are focused on the rear view mirror.  Life is a one way street that needs to be treasured.  It is the journey that matters, the only journey you will have, so make it count.

Laugh with your loved one.  Don’t let your pride stand in the way.  Apologize when you’ve made a mistake because nothing matters.  Hold values in the center of your being and make sure nothing alters what you’re truly made of.

A one way street, focus forward.

 

The Freezing Lake

Source: Writing Prompt #350

images
She floated above the freezing lake waiting for the monster to reveal itself.  The cold air fluttered around her like pigeons.  She sighed, breathing warmth into her cold hands.  A little ripple barely noticed was all that she needed to smile.  He’s come, she thought to herself.

She turned to her right just as the monster’s head gently surfaced.  His blue skin was sleek with water dripping down, his green eyes glittering with the reflection of the mountains around.  Sarah, is it time?  It said in husky voice.

  • yes, my dear.  It is finally time
  • And are you certain that you’ve made the right decision?  Is this the right way forward?
  • Yes, I am certain.  I have thought of this long and hard.  I cannot bear to think what could happen lest I stay.

No answer, the sound of silence was calming.  She looked at the monster whose head was rested on its back and thought of the many days she spent conversing with her friend.  Their friendship was anything but conventional and she will miss it dearly.

  • The road you are taking is dangerous.  There is no way back.
  • I don’t want to come back
  • What if you do?  What if you miss me?
  • You will always be in my heart, Barlac
  • Will you remember me?
  • Always
  • You will be too busy with test after test.  It is not sheltered out there as it is with me
  • I am ready to undergo all the tests that are sent my way

More silence.  A cold wind brushed across Sarah’s face.

  • Are you already packed?
  • Yes
  • Did you pack everything you need?  Did you pack something to eat and something to drink?
  • I only packed my food and water
  • What about your clothes?
  • I don’t need anything more than what I’m wearing
  • It will get too cold

The sun was setting and Sarah felt like it was now or never

  • Barlac?
  • Yes, my dear
  • What will you do without me?
  • I will wait
  • Wait?
  • Yes, I will wait for another girl to stumble upon my lake so as to teach her the secrets of life
  • But life is out there, not in here
  • Is it?
  • Yes.  Everything you taught me cannot be applied in the outside world!
  • Can’t it?
  • Is this good bye?
  • Yes.  Thank you for everything
  • Never forget who you are
  • I won’t.

And with that, Barlac tipped forward onto Sarah’s head in what can only be considered a kiss and quietly descended back into the quietness of the lake.  She stood taking the scenery in for the last time, recalling the days she sat discussing Barlac’s teachings, debating morals and historical events, and uncovering answers for questions she never asked.  It was time to learn and unlearn, time to move on, and time for another chapter in her life.

Life as a Fraud- Inferiority Complex

Fraud

inferiority-Complex.jpg

They say confidence is key.  Key to what, I wonder as I put on my beige dress.  Here I am getting ready to graduate at the top of my class from a great university and I still wonder how did I get here?  I never thought I was the sharpest tool in the box (is that how the saying goes?) and I never really did so great in school; and yet I got accepted in the state university on a full scholarship.  I remember joking with the counselor who insisted I apply for the scholarship telling me that I was a great student and all universities would love to have me.  I thought he was joking but I got nudged into it by my mom who held the camera as I played the violin.  I missed a few notes but didn’t feel like redoing the whole thing, so I sent in the tape with all the mistakes.

A few months later, I got the acceptance letter and felt ecstatic.  Scared, but happy.  Then my complex kicked in: am I as good as they think I am?  Am I really worth the money they’d be throwing away?

I walked around campus those four years trying to keep to myself most of the time but it was evident that things cannot go unnoticed.  My high grades got me on the honors roll and I was turned into one of the university teaching assistants and library buddy.  I was also playing the violin in university performances and was given awards for “best performance” and “Classical music guru”.  Yet I kept wondering what they see in me.  What can they see that I can’t?

When things go against my will, I understand.  I live in that unknown and thrive in knowing nobody is watching.  Then I excel, and everybody watches… and I start questioning.

Am I a fraud?  Am I an illusionist who has everyone scammed into believing I am made of something that I am not?

Then I look around, and see people who have accomplished less than I have, look half as good as I do, and are less talented but who are booming with confidence.  I choose to keep quiet in seminars, even though I know the answers before anyone raises their hand.  I try to live in the shadows of my doubt, to live behind those who are in their fuschia and turquoise dresses, screaming for attention.  I choose to stay in the shadows where only those who are looking for perfection would find me, could find me.  They would take me out, polish me a bit, and stand in awe at who I am.

And then, as I stand glistening in the sun, I will still wonder if I’m a real diamond… or a fraud.

Scars and Stretch Marks

tattoo

Many people prefer to hide their scars and stretchmarks not keeping in mind that they make us who we are.  We are all born the same: an empty canvas which awaits what life brings upon us and which can be showcased to our grandchildren.  Yes, scars remind us of the times we learned and stretchmarks remind us of the times we grew.

Scars.

Physical scars from childhood reminding us not to take that route,  not to climb that tree, and not to play with those kids.  Physical scars from adulthood reminding us not to take that route (yes, again), not to forget the seat belt, and not to talk to that guy.  Emotional scars from childhood and during adulthood reminding us that best friends may change, boyfriends may cheat, and loved ones may die.  Scars that represent lessons in life, that tell a story of where we have been and where we once longed to be.  Scars tattooed all over our bodies and souls making us human.

Scars that cannot be covered.

And stretchmarks.  Representing the times we changed and grew: gaining weight after high school, losing weight when you realize that weight you gained was a bit too much, growing less confident, growing more confident, pregnancy and motherhood, changing what we believe, changing who we believe, changing who we are.  All those changes are changes to our skin and our minds.  Not accepting to change means that we are made out of stone and are no humans.  Not all change is evident but a simple change makes a big difference in our humanity.

 

I do not wish to hide my scars nor my stretchmarks.  On the contrary, I wish to show everyone all my wounds, to show how alike we are and how human we can be.  I accept the lessons in my life and thank the growth that they brought upon me: work less, love more, and be gentle.

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