TRUE MEMORIES, LIFE FALSIFIED
Youthful hopes and fantasies bred on innocent dreams,
The princess and the frog, the husband and the prince collide mid-life-stream,
True memories of the young become life falsified when two lives meet.
Laughing happy children filling an empty house,
Mama's the word on sweet cherub lips that smile an accepting love,
Love's the word on rugged masculine lips that smile an encompassing love,
Joyful family braais, happy family meals around a table,
All these crumble when true childhood hopes are deceived by life's reality.
African mothers actions rarely teach hope, but rather hard-work and tears swallowed in the misleadingly happy home...
They teach strength in perseverance camouflaged as hope, and the wide smile that is the facade for the bleeding heart,
It is this that leads their young to dream of true memories falsified into life.
The adult looks back at those childish dreams with melancholy, because life's no film
And together is not attached but separate - life's illusion is the hopes of the child shattered by reality
The dreams of the young grow into spectacle that is mauled by reality, and hearts are left bleeding 'cause life no dream, and innocent hopes are the rose-tint on the differences that divide couples
And true memories are falsified into the life you now live
Though life may not be rosy, and life may not be a romcom, these true chilhood memories of the fantasies of youth keep us going, defined by the bittersweet smile that characterises adulthood.
Cling to the dreams, hopes and fantasies of your young self,
It makes life more sweet than bitter
And hope in our hearts.
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Pay attention to life...
To many life goes by blindly, and no-one really pays attention to their lives and what is happening to them. And perhaps this has been my fault in life, a kind of hyper-awareness to the fact that I am living life, and that there are lessons that we need to learn and without an awereness of this, one can be doomed to repeat their mistakes.
This blog, is dedicated to the woman who made who I am. When I was growing up I had a seriously antagonistic relationship with my mother…and let me be honest with my siblings as well. A more angst-filled child never existed, I remember hours spent hiding in the closet, sucking on my fingers contemplating life and what it meant. My earliest memory is of me walking around my family’s seat in Waterval in the Northwest, feeling completely abandoned, so heartbroken and alone. It is a very dark memory that haunts me to this day. I must have been around four or five years old, and I just have no idea why I would have felt that way. Church was a deeply felt event, where the lyrics to the hymns moved me to ecstasy, and every year I wondered why humanity was the way it was and they acted they way they did, and why we just felt so helpless about being human and allowed ourselves to be so evil towards each other and do the horrible things that we did.
It was the hours I spent alone contemplating who I was and what I had done that solidified this aspect of my personality, hours that I have my mother Seipati. H. Mothoagae to thank for. It was her who after a spate of deep naughtiness would banish me to my room to go and think about what I had done, and whether that served me.
This blog is dedicated to these musings, and what I have learned about life, love and spirituality. If you wonder about the same, and are as given to introspection as I am, then this should prove interesting for you. If you are interested in the musings and the viewpoints of other, no matter how strange, than this is the blog for you. This is about what I think, what I have come to accept as true of life, the world, humanity and spirituality.
This blog, is dedicated to the woman who made who I am. When I was growing up I had a seriously antagonistic relationship with my mother…and let me be honest with my siblings as well. A more angst-filled child never existed, I remember hours spent hiding in the closet, sucking on my fingers contemplating life and what it meant. My earliest memory is of me walking around my family’s seat in Waterval in the Northwest, feeling completely abandoned, so heartbroken and alone. It is a very dark memory that haunts me to this day. I must have been around four or five years old, and I just have no idea why I would have felt that way. Church was a deeply felt event, where the lyrics to the hymns moved me to ecstasy, and every year I wondered why humanity was the way it was and they acted they way they did, and why we just felt so helpless about being human and allowed ourselves to be so evil towards each other and do the horrible things that we did.
It was the hours I spent alone contemplating who I was and what I had done that solidified this aspect of my personality, hours that I have my mother Seipati. H. Mothoagae to thank for. It was her who after a spate of deep naughtiness would banish me to my room to go and think about what I had done, and whether that served me.
This blog is dedicated to these musings, and what I have learned about life, love and spirituality. If you wonder about the same, and are as given to introspection as I am, then this should prove interesting for you. If you are interested in the musings and the viewpoints of other, no matter how strange, than this is the blog for you. This is about what I think, what I have come to accept as true of life, the world, humanity and spirituality.
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