Monthly Archives: January 2013

FATHERHOOD- IT IS TO SAY. TO DO. TO BE.

 

He never talked about his dad. Not once. Not even in passing.

When we just started dating, I would go on and on about my daddy and the decisions that he had made to ruin our family, and his choices that caused my family so much pains.

But him, he just listened, he never told me about his father and so I assumed his dad was dead.
Then, one Thursday evening, as I was cooking for him supper, he was seated  on the chair, watching me. His phone rang…after a brief conversation, he turned to me and told me:
“My father is sick, I have to go home tomorrow and take him to hospital”
I was stunned. I moved closer to him, brow coiled.
“You mean you have a dad?” I asked perplexed.
“Dearest, everyone has a dad…” he joked., but I could see the discomfort on his face.

More than anything, I craved to hear the story of this human being, the only person perhaps, who has ever caused that much discomfort to my mister.
And so I urged him to tell me about his father, to step out from behind the self-protecting wall he had constructed around himself and talk it out.


At first he was reluctant….but I urged him on. What was it?


One evening he decided to make the leap.
Lying in the darkness of our room, he told me  about his father. He talked of the father who had made terrible decisions and caused an arc in their upbringing. He told me the story of the reckless and violent man who scared him. He told me how not once had he looked at his father’s face when they were growing up. That his father scared him.


Then, he took my hand and put on his naked back…I felt the raised scar…borne from being beaten by his father in childhood…
The scars of his body…heliographs of violence and pain, of a bad fatherhood that impacted so much on a son.

 

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(photo credit: quiet voice blogger)

And so we talked about fatherhood, about mine, and about his….and I came to learn somehow what fatherhood is.

Fatherhood is not making a woman pregnant and going to bring her back when she has delivered, NO. fatherhood is a higher calling. Fatherhood is being there in all the steps that are involved. It is taking her for the test. It is holding the mother to be and assuring her that you will be there, fatherhood is about looking her in the eye when she is considering other options and telling her :” I will be there for you. We will do this together…” fatherhood is ASSURANCE.

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Fatherhood is about living to your word, it is a union between you, the mother to be, and the unborn. It is a vow, a promise, it is staying and making it happen. it is a COVENANT

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Fatherhood is not about bringing home the bread. No. fatherhood is to be there and watch how the bread that you brought home is being consumed. Fatherhood is about partaking every small meal, celebration, changes with your children. Fatherhood is about being there. It is about learning how to change a diaper, it is about learning how to rock a child, it is hearing a child cry and waking up without shaking the mother who is sleeping next to you. Fatherhood is about carrying your child and making her laugh. It is about giving that child comfort and making sure that they feel safe in your presence. It is about opening up and bridging the generational gap. It is telling the kids stories about the past and merging them with the present. Fatherhood isn’t about going home and masking your face with the newspaper. NO. fatherhood is about being keen on your children, asking them about their days, it is about noticing that your child is walking with a limp, it is about noticing a small lump on her neck. Fatherhood is KEENNESS.

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Fatherhood is about building the right foundation, it is about leading them through the right path. HAHA, it is not about caning them till they get scars. NO. Papa, fatherhood is about doing things right, leading by example. It is about abandoning that brown bottle and coming home early to bond with them. It is about refusing the offer by your friends to party every weekend till dawn. It is about YOU and how you present yourself before your children. Fatherhood is DISCIPLINE.

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Fatherhood is about treating the mother of your kids right. It is all about LOVE. it is making their mother laugh so hard in their presence so that in their small minds they form what love is about. Fatherhood is about helping…it is seeing the mother struggling to do it on her own, and saying: “let me help with that…” it is helping the kinds wash their hands as the mother serves the food. It is picking up after your kids. Fatherhood is not about sitting on the table and waiting to be served.  Fatherhood is SERVICE.

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Fatherhood is being there for your kids when the mother is incapacitated in any form. It is taking your kid for baptism, it is going to see your wife in hospital every day, for months,  and returning home to your kids. It is doing all that you can to see that the mother gets the best. It is stretching yourself to ensure that your kids get the best. Fatherhood is SACRIFICE.

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Fatherhood is not raising your hands to hit your children at every opportunity. Fatherhood is not scarring your kids, fatherhood is not leaving a mark, so that anytime your kid touches the body, they feel like it is a form of braille where they can read and interpret failure from your side. Fatherhood is not hitting the mother of your kids, more so in the presence of your children, that is COWARDICE. Fatherhood is about knowing the role that you play in the life of your kids, in their upbringing, and embracing this role. Fatherhood is a DEEPER CALLING

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Fatherhood is not waiting for your kids to be grown ups and then calling them in an attempt to apologize. No. fatherhood is realizing how fleeting life is, and saying sorry whenever you should. Fatherhood is knowing the battles that are worth fighting, and fighting them like a warrior. Fatherhood doesn’t entail walking away because the responsibilities are heavy upon you. No. fatherhood is sticking around and ensuring that things work out. Fatherhood is being a real man. Abandoning things like drinking yourself to a blackout or sleeping with any girl who gives you a chance. NO. Fatherhood demands that you put your kids first in any decision that you want to make. Fatherhood is MAKING TOUGH DECISIONS.

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Fatherhood is just a series of doing things. It is BEING. It is not waiting to be reminded about responsibilities that come with it, but etching them in every core of your being and ensuring that you do all that you can to make it happen. Fatherhood is about marrying a woman who has a child and stepping in to be a father. It is about treating that child right. It is about ceasing to make your woman cry. It is about shielding ~ doing what men have been called to do. It is about protection. It is being there in all events. It is teaching your children how to play, pray, stay. Fatherhood is MATURITY

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So, I challenge you, you who is a father or claims to be. I challenge you to take the call that fatherhood is, take up your position and be a daddy. If you cant, shut up and don’t complain about how things aren’t right in the society.  It all begins from the family….Oy!  Fatherhood is a COMMAND.

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Categories: I AM, Uncategorized | 24 Comments

BLOGGERS PLAY…I HAVE TAGGED IMPERFECTIOUS.

In todays blog, someone sent me a set of questions that  am supposed to answer honestly, and then tag another blogger who I follow, and they are also expected to answer and then tag another blogger….

So lets get straight to it. Hehehe, wow!

  1. I Admire … my mama. I just marvel every day at her strength, her wisdom, and the LOVE that she has in her. Truth be told, I get so much strength and encouragement from her. She makes things right, always, when the tides rise up, as they always do, trust my mama to help us sail through.
  2. I Am Not… perfect. I have flaws and I am aware of them. I am too self-opinionated. Sometimes I come out as conceited. I am too removed from the universe; I seem to care less about the things that go on around me. I sometimes get very moody, I am not perfect. I know…pray for me.
  3. I Am… a writer. Ever since I was a kid, words have saved me from drowning in my own tears. Words have been my sanity, and when things go wrong, I run to these words to get relief. For me, writing is a form of therapy.

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4. Believe… nothing happens just like that. There is a reason for everything, and most of it, is the lessons that come with it. I believe that all of us are a part of a fulfillment, and all of us have a purpose in life. Sometimes we are just too slow to realize what our real purpose is because we are too busy wondering about other people’s perception of us.

5.I Celebrate … the second chance that God gave me. I celebrate waking up from a hospital bed where other people died but I was spared. I celebrate the transformation that I got, and the new life that I started living. I mean, who would have thought that I would live? I even got the priest to come and give me the last sacrament in hospital, but I lived!

6.I Close … too many chapters. Almost everyday, I close one chapter and open a new one. It took me a long time to learn how to do it, but life has so far taught me how fleeting things are, so I love on the edge. If need be, I close a chapter and open another. It’s an escape-, and it is so refreshing, it is like a rebirth

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7.I Cry… when I get overwhelmed by the crosses that I carry. I cry when the gravity in my heart gets too much, when darkness and sorrow rise from a place am not familiar with. Or when I cant take in the pain any more.

8. I Dance… when I am excited. When I am happy.

9. I Enjoy … hanging out with my gals who fill me with so much laughter

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10.I Fear… that I no longer feel at home in this world any more.

11.I Hate… self righteous people. The ones who define what is right, and then try to shove it down your throat, and when you don’t accept it, they call you evil.

12.I Have… more than 1000 books in my shelf, and too many copies of the Readers Digest.

13.I Hope… to win the Baobab prize for African writers this year. I pray for it every day.

14.I Laugh … waaaaaay too much. Even at things that others don’t find funny, they just tickle me. I laugh at myself too. I tell stories of my own stupidity, and I roll on the ground with laughter. Oh…

15.I Love… my family. Too much. And the little distractions that they bring in my life. And the memories they have helped me build.

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16.I Need… people to understand where I am coming from, so that they understand what I am all about.

17.I Never… want to fall sick ever again. Or to go through any form of physical pain. Or emotional suffering.

18.I Rarely… wear a bra when I am in the house. Those things suffocate me, for real.

19.I Return … all the books, magazines and money that I borrow from people.

20.I Search… for the bright side in every shade of darkness that I experience. It is the only way I can keep my head high.

21.I Should… stop trusting people too much. I should let only a few people who understand me, who know me into my life. I should learn to rise up and say “Enough is enough…”

22.I Shut … negativity and hate from me. I try to surround myself with people who make me laugh, make me learn and make me soar.

23.I Sing… A LOT. I am actually a very good singer, I used to be a lead singer in our church choir and sometimes, I still get to lead the praise and worship team when I can.

24.I Thank … God for who He is moulding me to be. For stepping up and hearing when I yelled KUMBAYAH, for making me appreciate the little things that I stumble upon in life.

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25.I Try … to give everyone I know a second chance, a chance to shine through the difference and a chance to dazzle me with their brighter side. Life is about giving people second chances…

26.I Turn… a deaf year to people who try to bring me down. To people who take life too seriously, and people with low self esteem.

27.I Usually… have mental conversations in my head. I sometimes form an intro of my story on my head, I pitch my questions and sample the different answers I might get, all in my head.

28.I Want… to follow the path that leads to my dream. I want to retire out of employment when I am 30 years old and venture into something else. I want to come back to this blog in 5 years and see how I have changed.

29.I Wash … my dirty linen in public sometimes.

30.I Wish… I didn’t have to work .

31.I Wonder… what tomorrow holds, what the next breath means, and who I will meet next, who will change my life for the better.

32.I write…because there are too many things that happened in my life that struggle for any form of release. Things that are etched deep inside me, that I have to get an avenue to release them, or I would just die of trauma.

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I have tagged Gladys Molla (imperfectios) tell us about yourself Glad’Mo…bloggers have decided to play. le sigh!

Categories: Uncategorized | 2 Comments

From my friend Adelle, who inspires me daily, and who is rising above the barriers to be the beautiful writer that she is.
Baby girl, do not let people’s comments on social media stop you. Like I told you, tell your story, tell it out, even if you are talking to one person, even if you are talking to YOURSELF….because, all of it is the journey to final healing.

And then in your path, you will find someone who will be CHANGED, TRANSFORMED, RECONDITIONED, REDEFINED by your story.

And your mama, she was a good one. She mentored and encouraged many. Me being one of them….

HOOORAY to the women of this earth, those who have been tossed about by the winds of circumstances and are rising up to reclaim themselves.
Live. Love. Laugh. Continue……
I will listen to your stories, ALWAYS. And I will tell them to whoever cares to listen…

Adelle Onyango

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I let everyone in. Which is good. Share your story. Heal the world. Speak for the voiceless. But when you let them in, people tend to feel like they now own shares in your life, in every decision you make, in everything you do. They know best.

In this industry I’m in, it’s easy to lose your head. It’s easy to come off as being aggressive because as a woman, you have all these stereotypes to break and you HAVE to be strong.

Being a young woman in the media + entertainment industry means that I’m not breaking barriers for myself. This is bigger than me. This is setting an agenda of possibilities for young women. For my sisters and for my daughters. This is my platform to continue breaking doors to opportunities just as my mother did.

Why do I embrace my rape survivor status in all I do?…

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CHILD, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL….whisper this to a child near you.

I was doing a story on the teachers returning to work after a long strike that had forced students in public schools stay home. So, now they were back to the classroom and I wanted to tie the story with the strikes had had been witnessed in South Africa, and do a piece on Africa as a striking continent (I know….)

Anyway, this is not about the degradation of Africa. Hold on, you will see where it is going.

So, we arrived at  the primary  school to find the students lined up like policemen…they were singing and clapping for us like dignitaries.  They were staring, because incidentally, on that day, some school inspectors were also visiting them. They looked prepped.

It was uncomfortable.


It was an easy story to do… the class teacher identified someone we could talk to, and by midday, we were done. As we were folding our equipment, the pupils milled around us and stared curiously at the cameras.


They whispered among each other…the air was covered with childhood innocence and bashfulness. We took cover shots of children playing in the field.

Oh, the bliss of childhood.


One of the pupils leaned and told the her friend who was standing next to her in a whisper: “Pia mimi ntakuwa journalist”

I too want to be a journalist.


The other one laughed…real loud.

 It pierced the silence that had otherwise embraced the air.


” Ati unataka kuwa journalist. Hahaha. Journalists lazima wakuwe warembo, hauonangi Julie Gichuru…?” she blurted while still laughing.
The girl who had said she wanted to be a journalist has a big burn scar on her head, through to her neck. She was bald on one side. Her face was somehow distorted…she tried to smile, looking at us…her face was awash with embarrassment.

Oh…her face. She just looked at us, and then looked at the ground. The other laughed.


Then she ran…she RAN!

She ran with my heart…she ran with a part of me. I looked at her as she disappeared behind one of the classrooms...

Tanzania School Girl of Tloma Primary School

(photo credit: mttp images/copyrights)

Oh dear God…Nikilemewa nishike.

That evening, my video man, the most rasta man of all rastaferians, my producer and I sat down and thought of how to bring the girl  and her dreams back from the place where she went to hide.
So, that Saturday, she walked into our studio. Her shoes were shining. Her socks were pulled to her knees. Her uniform was faded…

her mother held her hand.

I had written for her a simple news script -. My producer taught her how to read news from the teleprompter…the videographer outdid himself…taking the shot from  all angles.
She was smiling…she read the news, she was ecstatic…

she was BEAUTIFUL.
We put it in a Dvd and gave it to her- we told her class teacher, and it was shown to her whole school.
My oh My! The silence in that whole as they watched the girl with a scar…the ugly girl being a star on their screen.
Being a journalist. Doing what she had been told she cant do…
 She was beaming…the whole school clapped.

It was all utterly grandiose and flamboyant.
It was about finding that inner thing that is so elusive, that we  struggle so much, because of how people view us. Because of what people have told us….

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NO! Look, you people of my generation…
WE ARE…
WE ARE…
WE ARE…
WE SO DAMN ARE!!!
Look, you who is reading this, I know you sometimes struggle with little insecurities, inside and outside. You wonder if you are good enough.  You wonder if you can do it, you compare yourself with other people. You second guess yourself…
You look at yourself in  the mirror, and all you see are flaws, you see things that need to be changed, you see someone foreign, someone you do not love staring back at you.
But heeeeey!  I tell you, step out from that mirror, a mirror of self-criticism  that you subject yourself to. I dare you, you who is perhaps too close to the mirror to see what lies deep inside.
So, you listen to the laughter that people pile on you, people who define you and tell you that you are not good enough. You listen to people and their negative vibe and their cowardly attempts to put you down. And you run….
But really, what I wanted to talk about in this blog is not about self image; well that is just a part of it. What I wanted to talk about is “children and how we shape them…”
Yes, you with a  child, how do you ensure that your child, no matter what circumstances is self confident when it comes to image? How do you ensure that your child, yes, that child who is being subjected to so much hatered in the society, how do you cushion that child….?
I say, I say, I say…. “ Today, look at your child in the eye, and tell that child, YOU ARE LOVELY, YOU ARE GOOD, AND YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL….”
It’s the best that you can do. So that no matter how much the media and the society tries to define beauty, you have already shaped your child and told her that she is beautiful, that they are good enough, that they can do it….
Do it. Do it. Do it.
And then above all, look at yourself and ask…when was the last time you  made a difference to someone? Made someone smile?

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Thanks a lot mama, for always telling the five of us about how good we are…for always clapping for us when we stood up and recited poetry, when we marched in church….

Thank you for raising us to believe that we are good, so that no matter how much society tries to redefine beauty and success, they cannot shake the foundation that you built a long time ago…

Build a foundation for your child, will ya? And then no matter how much society tries to crush it, they cant.

Live. Love. continue….

childprotection

Categories: I AM, MESSENGER | 2 Comments

EVEN THE STRONGEST CRY- JUST CRY. DO IT. LET IT FLOW

They had just returned to  the country that day -after a year of gun shots, crawling on the underbelly of Somalia, fighting for this country.


And now they were back…the Kenya army.


They marched in their majestic form…perfection. not a step missed,  their shoes falling and rising to the ground in a uniform rhythm.

We the journalists watched from behind.


The national anthem played…dissolving the cold air of that day. The flag hoisted up high, being tossed on and on by the wind…kissing the skies…

It was too BEAUTIFUL.

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(photo credits: Ministry of defense)

Women rushed to meet their husbands. Children ran to meet their fathers, lovers embraced and wept…others hugged in silence, perhaps because they couldn’t find the right words.


And then we spotted him. Dressed in full regalia…the jungle green, the combat of warriors…and he was CRYING.

Yes, tears were rolling down his face.


A man from the army, CRYING…you know, not the graceful cry but weeping like a baby.

He didn’t bother wiping them. He just cried when the anthem played.


On the other side, just on the opposite tent, his three sons stood watching. His sobs chocked him. He tried to wipe his tears, but more of it flowed.


Over and over, like a mighty sea…like an unstopped river that had broken its dykes.


There he was, a guy from the defense team was WEEPING.

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(photo credits: google images)

You want to know something?

…the oldest of the soldier’s  son wasnt looking at his weeping dad. No.
His gaze was fixed on the flag. His hand was down, as if his father’s tears were the national anthem. He did not move…he stared too deeply into the sky…the flag was tossed again and again by the wind…


His father’s tears blown by the wind.

 It was painful.


A true son of a soldier. He couldnt look at his father cry…

EE MUNGU NGUVU YETU…!

I have seen it people. Even the strongest among us break down. Even they that wear combat, those who have licked and tasted gun powder, those who have heard echoes of gunshots, those who have come face to face with death. Even those who have trampled on the scorching earth of Somalia using their feet…even them can break down when they remember what they have been through.

Even they who have run across thorns and shrubs, who have fallen instinctively on their stomachs with eyes closed and have shot randomly to save their own skins. Even they that have made peace with the reality of death, and have been hardened by seeing their friends being felled as they watch – yes, even those who are hardened cry when the weight of the world weighs too heavy on their backs.

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So, when you are overwhelmed by the things that are happening, when you look back and think about the pains that you are going through, the pains that you underwent, I say, my dear, it is okay to cry. It is okay to let tears roll, to let the salt inescapable happen. It is fine, it is okay to hug your friend and let tears flow…

It is fine to just break down and say: “I am in pain. I am struggling. I am sad. The sorrow is rising…”

It is not wrong.

Sometimes the eyes well up. Sometimes our eyelashes get moistened. Sometimes our nose run. Sometimes we get chocked up by the things that we cant control.

Sometimes we cry.

It is okay. Even soldiers cry. It is okay.

I too have cried. I have fallen on my knees, with a prayer stuck in my tongue…with the name of the Lord half uttered upon my tongue…and I have cried. I have raised my hands up, I have yelled KUMBAYAH from a place deep inside me, in a voice that perhaps only me can understand.

OH LORD OF ALL CREATION….

I have cried in a moving bus, with a doctor’s report in my purse.

I have cried for the loss of my friend. I have felt my heart being ripped from my body…I have sobbed in the arms of my mother, I have cried in front of my family, I have cried in the depth of the night when the world is asleep and I am awake nursing a heart break. I have cried from disappointment. I have cried when I was abused on the internet and I couldn’t defend myself among these people who did not know me, yet they spewed so much hate on me…and I knew my truth, yet I couldn’t explain it, and even if I did, they wouldn’t believe me.

I have cried when the world around me crushed. I have cried from so much hopelessness that I once felt. I have cried from a feeling of rejection. I have cried from sorrow rising. I have cried for new beginnings because I was scared. I have cried while tossing my yoyo and I cant find the right words. I have cried for my mama and the pains she went through. I have cried for redemption.  I have cried for love.

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I too have cried…

And I have come to know, it is okay to cry. It is humanity’s way of getting rid of the many pent up emotions.

Dearest, it is okay to cry. It is okay to look back at the milestones you have covered, the many paths you have walked alone, the darkness, the void. Its okay. Think about what you are going through now, the misunderstanding, the emptiness, the need, the heartbreak, the ________

 

Think about the sorrow, your recent loss, of a loved one, of a job, of an opportunity, of a marriage, of a religion…think about it. Think about the defenses you created around yourself, the self-preservation, the “ninjaism” that you have created to give you a distraction. Break those barriers…CRY. Let it out, and then start again, start a journey of restoration.

Time on my clock: 4:01 am. The hour of restoration.

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Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

ATTRAVERSIAMO- LETS CROSS OVER

Two years back, I read the book Eat. Pray. Love. by Elizabeth Gilbert. I was immediately swept by her wit, I mean, the book is filled with these small bits of wisdom that seemed to be talking specifically to me at that time.
See, in 2010, I went through the shittiest times of my life, and the book, somehow brought back a part of me that I was losing in the process of taking in the waves of pain that were coming in.
And then , last year, Simon bumped into these chick flicks that are hawked all over town, the Blue tray movies, that had several of romantic movies that he hoped would act as a very nice valentines gift to me…and then it happened. In those very random movies, I bumped into Eat. Pray. Love – the movie.
Wow!
I was in love…because the movie was powerful, and it spoke to my heart. I will pick just a small part of it, and talk on about it (Ha! Its my blog, so I get to have the much spoken about poetic license)
Anyway, so, what caught me about this movie was when Liz, the lead character is learning Italian and then the man teaching her tells her about ATTRAVERSIAMO….

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Ha!
It means “Lets cross over” he says.
And it catches me so much, I pause it, and I write down that word…because it sounds so beautiful, it sounds so magical, like a drop of honey rolling upon warm tongue.
It means “lets have a transformation…lets start again, let us have a CROSSOVER…

ATTRAVERSIAMO! Isnt it a beautiful word? I can say it over and over and still fall in love with it.

ATTRAVERSIAMO……

No. Pause. Think. Let the syllables slide upon your tongue.
Say it loud. Whisper it…melt it in your tongue like white chocolate…mhhhh…
ATTRAVERSIAMO….! So beautiful.

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This is where the story starts….
I look at my life, and I marvel at the number of crossovers that I have had to take to be where I am. Well, I am not at a point of perfection, there are things that I still want to do, there are things that I want to achieve, but one thing I am happy about is that I have peace – a piece of mind.
I am ruined from some of the past experiences, because some are so heavy, but I am learning to let go. I am learning to do the ATTRAVERSIAMO…to just move on, and get to another place. I am learning to leave behind the past pains and become another person. I am learning to take flight and not focus on things that threatened to break me.

I am learning to be whole again.
There are life experiences that you go through, and they leave an indelible mark in the book of your life, but I am learning to open new pages, not to delete the past, but to reform how they made me feel. I am doing ATTRAVERSIAMO…I have been doing it for a while now, and I am enjoying the liberation.
You go through some situations, a broken heart, a betrayal, an abuse of any form, a life threatening disease, a death of a loved one…a series of sorrows and mourning….you go through that and it changes every fiber of who you are….a lot of things stop to matter, apart from LETTING GO, of the trauma, of the pain, of the loss of self esteem, of the thousand pieces that fell apart leaving you empty….

I say ATTRAVERSIAMO…arise, and cross over, to a beautiful place. To FREEDOM.

atti

One thing that I leaned from the book was the rules of freedom:

1. Life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.

2. You have just climbed up and above the roof, there is nothing between you and the Infinite; now, let go.

3. The day is ending, it’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.

4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. You are being here is God’s response, let go and watch the stars came out, in the inside and in the outside.

5. With all your heart ask for Grace and let go.

6. With all your heart forgive him, forgive yourself and let him go.

7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering then, let go.

8. Watch the heat of day pass into the cold night, let go.

9. When the Karma of a relationship is done, only Love remains. It’s safe, let go.

10. When the past has past from you at last, let go.. then, climb down and begin the rest of your life with great joy.”
(Quotes from Elizabeth Gilbert)

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I AM, BECAUSE I DO.
I AM, BECAUSE I SO DAMN DO….

ATTRAVERSIAMO good people….I choose to cross over, till I find the ultimate happiness. Till I am liberated from the shackles that once held me down. I choose to be FREE, to FORGIVE, to CROSS OVER.

Attraversiamo…its about opening new chapters in life, it is about BEING!

Categories: Uncategorized | 5 Comments

MOTHERHOOD, TO DEFINE, TO DEFY, TO DESCRIBE

I sat down today to pen about motherhood, because in my mind, I had this beautiful imagery, these beautiful metaphors that I wanted to weave together, to define what motherhood is. I wanted to get the words that can tell about motherhood and the feelings, the entirety of it all, and then I opened a word document, I sat down with my coffee fix, and you know what, I COULDN’T.

Because motherhood is this thing that cant be defined. I have been sitting here since about 4:30 pm, and I cant find the right way to write what motherhood is all about.
So, what is motherhood? Mother…the word itself sounds like a question, a tough question.

To me, motherhood is a calling to serve. Yes it is. It is dedication, giving your all, from the first time that the two stripes appear on that test kit, from the first time the doctor tells you: “Yes, you are pregnant…” form the first time you check the calendar and realized that “your aunty in a red Subaru” has missed…that is when it all begins. The nausea, rising over and over…the pressed bladder, the dizziness, the preparation to motherhood…

pregs

 

And the first time the little one cries. That is what motherhood is ~ embracing a tiny lump of creation, and wondering what to do with it. Motherhood is about learning, it is an eternal school. It is to love so unconditionally, that your children become a part of you, a big part. It is more than a transfer of genes, it is SACRIFICE.

Motherhood is  hard work. It is sitting the whole night with a wailing child and still loving it. It is paranoia, it is the ability to recognize the cry of your baby amidst several other cries and sounds. It is wiping poop and going  back to eating, it is love suicidal, it is beauty. Motherhood is emptying the contents of your plate to that of your little one. It is giving the baby your phone to play with, it is sighing when you find the phone soaked in her saliva, it is small constant deaths whenever the baby grows, the first tooth, the first smile, the first word. Motherhood is ETERNAL.

 

new baby

 

Motherhood is walking on a messy maze. It is not knowing what tomorrow holds, it is trying everyday to do things right. It is a responsibility, that you have been given, to nurture. Motherhood is failure. It is looking at the eyes of the teacher who takes care of your son and being told that your son is a bully, that your child said a bad word to another, that your angel is failing, that she was last in her class. But motherhood is taking these failures and using them to shape up the future of the child. Motherhood is a PROFESSION.

Motherhood is change. It is telling your friends goodbye in the middle of a feisty story, and having to rush home to be with your kids. Motherhood is choosing your children over hedonism that once mattered too much to you. It is a transformation. A change. A resurrection. Motherhood is bliss. It is laughing out loud when your child says a word so funny because she is learning to speak. Motherhood is melting and turning to a stranger seated next to you when your kid is performing a childish song on stahge and saying: “That’s my child…” . It is INSANITY

mothers loads

 

Motherhood is a bond. It is joining different facebook groups to see what you can learn about motherhood. It is chatting with someone you have never met to talk about your beautiful one. It is a people gathering to pray and collect money for a mother who is in a coma in hospital. It is meeting strangers in a hospital lobby and talking ad nauseam about your little ones. It is an immediate attraction. It is playing with someone’s child and making him laugh because he reminds you of your own. Motherhood is a MAGNET.

Motherhood is a series of forgiveness. It is the smiling and clicking when the little one sprinkles food by spitting on your face when feeding her. It is finding her slithered in your expensive lotion, looking like an ape, and wiping her without hitting. It is LETTING GO

Motherhood is a reality check. It is knowing a part of you that you didn’t know existed. It is a revelation of your inner strength. That you can push, sit down through the pain, and nurse the little one that brought this pain. It is the ability to carry your child on your back the whole day without bending down on the pain and weight. It is nursing emotional wounds and still standing strong for the sake of your child. It is stopping yourself from crying when they wave goodbye on their first day of school. It is just REINCARNATION.

 

mother child

 

Motherhood is pain. Just unpredictable pains that come with it. It is going through CS and not coming out of it. It is going through labor and losing your eye sight. It is holding your hair and clenching your teeth. It is torn flesh and blood. It is tears. It is shaking heads. It is losing your unborn. It is blood flowing. Sometimes, motherhood is DEATH.

Clarita

 

Motherhood is the recognition of those tiny steps as they follow you needing your attention. It is being grabbed by tiny soft hands, and being hugged. Motherhood is yelling a nursery rhyme, memorizing  it and singing along. Motherhood is watching kiddy rhymes, cartoons, and stupid story lines. Motherhood is snapping photos of the little one to immortalize every little change. Motherhood is hugging the man who made you a mother and telling him he and God created a very beautiful thing. It is looking at the eyes of your little one and seeing a part of you hidden inside it. Motherhood is watching your little one sleeping and feeling your heart being tugged. Motherhood is UNDESCRIBABLE.

Hoooooooray to all the mothers of this world. You have done a good job. And a special HOOOORAY to my own mama…in whom, I have seen a Saint.

 

Just every beautiful thing that has happened in my life….my mama is it!

Every good thing that has happened, every good thing that I hope I will be, I see streaks on my mama in it.

Categories: I AM | 7 Comments

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