Musings

Solitude

Photo by Lance ShieldsWhat a hauntingly beautiful piece x

Solitude

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

    Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
    But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
    Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
    But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
    Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
    But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
    Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
    But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
    Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
    But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
    For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
    Through the narrow aisles of pain.

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The power of letting go

Read my another of my blog posts on the art of letting go!

The Invisible F

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This blog is about surmounting fibromyalgia and mental illness. Inevitably, I had to get around to talking about forgiveness.

I wasn’t surprised that Google records 5 million searches a month for the phrase ‘how to let go.’

People are hurting and they want to heal and move on, but can’t seem to.

You might be asking what on earth this has to do with overcoming fibromyalgia and mental health problems?

Alot actually.

It is no secret that stress and emotional baggage can manifest themselves into physical symptoms. They can impinge on our health, exacerbating symptoms of conditions we are already dealing with. Chronic stress can also lead to a host of illnesses or habits that might affect our health in the long run.

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A beautiful awakening

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As a child, long before any diagnosis of clinical depression, I felt its claws digging its way into parts of me hidden from the world.

And as with any problem, we cannot treat what we do not know, or understand.

But I found unlikely help and great encouragement from stories.

In the pages of the many books my dad bought me, I found solace and inspiration. But these were also to be found in the multitude of stories my grandfather and grandmother told me and my cousins.

My grandad in particular loved telling us about his time growing up in colonial Trinidad; and defying the limitations set upon him as a mixed race man of colour.

This communal sharing of stories in my family fostered trust, loyalty and respect. It was almost sacred – esoteric knowledge known only to those within our family walls. (more…)

To Dad with love

Photo by me :)

Photo by me 🙂

On the other end of the phone Dad was rummaging through storage boxes.

“Oh look, I found one of your old drawings. You drew me a mermaid and it says ‘Happy Birthday Dad” he said bursting into laughter.

I chuckled as nostalgia overcame me.

Dad had migrated when I was three to make a better life for us. Like most families, our stories were complex.

I grew up mostly without his physical presence but he was always there.

He phoned as often as he could, sent me whatever I needed and ensured my library was ever growing. There was always a new storybook or some crafty device to harness my creativity. (more…)

Dare to dream

The Invisible F

Photo by Charisma Jonesford Photo by Charisma Jonesford

“And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don’t just give up” – Stephen Hawking, April 2015

I’ve always admired Stephen Hawking. His story is a powerful one. It is one of courage and perseverance. 

Speaking at the Sydney Opera House on Saturday, through a 3D Hologram from Cambridge University in the UK, he offered this powerful advice.

Within each of us there is a powerful story, even if you might not realise it. And no matter how insignificant you think you are, one day your story will encourage someone else to keep plodding on. I could not have said it any better. It means everything that you do not give up.

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Why I Write

“I write because I can’t do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write.I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write to be alone. I write because I like to be read. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can’t quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.”
-Orhan Pamuk