Dead End
Our time in New Orleans has come to an end.
In fact, we have literally hit a dead end! Our apartment complex backs up to the levee... a monstrous grey wall that has stared at us in mocking silence every day since last September. Imploring us to open our eyes and see that we have actually hit a wall.
Until a few . . .
Posted in: my journalself portraits
Resilience
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Today I am practicing,
Resilience.
Throw at me all you got.
Belittle my quirks. Undermine my abilities. Tread on my polite demeanor and quiet disposition. Even scoff my logic.
It wont change anything.
My worth is still my worth. It is not measured by your judgement.
So please, go . . .
Posted in: my journalpoetic riffsself portraits
Darkest Hour
In your darkest hour.
When hope is illusive and dreams unreachable. When your window to the world is tear smeared and everything you do ends in vein.
Pull down the shutter. Shut out the world.
Breathe.
Rest with your internal rhythm. Be with your pain. Ride your wave of consciousness and be present . . .
Posted in: poetic riffsself portraits
The Inbetween
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Today I am practicing,
Patience.
Living in the in-between takes a lot of patience. But there is no such thing as "happily ever after" without some trial and tribulation. Therefore I'm learning to embrace these moments, capture and live them fully. Because soon they will be gone.
I wonder, as . . .
Posted in: my journalpoetic riffsself portraits
Black Sheep in Disguise
The resistance inside...
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I have always felt like the black sheep.
Born to a Moroccan father, raised in a Caucasian family, insanely shy as a child, yet passionately loud when intervening family fights. I could never quite figure out who I was, or who I was meant to be.
It wasn't until the roots of wisdom grew deep within that I one day . . .
Posted in: life musespoetic riffsself portraits
Self Sabotage
The day I crashed my own party!
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It fascinates me how one innocent moment in my life. A moment that should have been fun, carefree and joyous, can turn into such a pivotal moment of regret for the rest of my life.
It all started with a simple decision.
A choice that I made when I was maybe 8 or 9 years old, that has clung to my memory like a parasite . . .
Posted in: about mechildhood storiesself portraits
