Tag Archive | postaday

one day my soul opened up

one day my soul opened up.

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one day my soul opened up

I have no words

I am no more

Yet I’m still here

Breathless charm all wound up in this mortal body

But what of me remains when I depart?

Will I still see the stars or will I be amongst their brilliance?

Will I become a celestial body orbiting space for all eternity?

What will become of me….

The day I depart from this journey?

When will I be free of this existence or it be rid of me?

Have I been born to witness the suffering of humanity or am I here to cure its ills?

Who knows when that fateful day will come

When my soul will open up and be set free?

abundance….seranade in F major…Knotting threads of identity

A Symphony of Love…..a Seranade in F Major…

It started with butterflies of feelings

As you lay on the sweet Bluegrass watching Cotton-Candy-Clouds and Dandelion Parachutes float by Oh so lazily in the Azure Sky

You close your eyes as the Sun’s Golden Rays kiss’d your smiling face

You dreamt of…..

Bushels of Autumn Coloured Leaves

Baskets of Almonds, Hazelnuts and Chestnuts

It was a Soulful Montage, a Rhythm of movement

A Rhyme of Poetry

And Sentiment of Prose

All seen through your minds’ eye, yet the vision was flooded by Rainbows of colour Pure Exhilaration…sweet contentment!

Abound a Tune of notes

How about a Pinch of Wicked Innocence? You gently muse…

Perhaps Some Jazz, for definite Pizzazz? ….Twinkled your toes……

“Uhmmm…..it’s melodious”…..said your Heartbeat

“Let us Envelope our Treasure in 36 dozen Red Roses

Amidst Whispers of Lavender, Baby’s breath, Vanilla, Coffee Beans, Jasmine and St Joseph’s Blooms Perhaps for Savoury Taste….A Promise of Rosemary, Thyme and some Clary Sage!”

The Nubian Diva

The Egyptian Queen

The Butterfly Soul

She writes again……..

the autumn leaves of soulful eyes….

“My mistresses’ eyes are nothing like the sun” (Sonnet 130; William Shakespeare)

¿Irías a ser muda que Dios te dio esos ojos? (Vicente Huidobro)- “My wife is so pretty, her eyes are like little stars in the sky”.

“Pretty girl with deep eyes, can you see the turmoil your expressive pupils have installed in my heart? Your eyes are not only deep but they also reveal a unique sensuality…”

An admirer, long ago once sent the lines from Vicente’s poem to me…even though he might have lifted it and passed it as his own, I cherished his admiration we were in love….(although it was short-lived)

I recalled the poem from my archives when you mentioned my eyes tonight, yet another fellow, two weeks ago (a mere 20year old lad, also made reference to my eyes: all he said in his message was: “hi, your eyes!” .

And so it is with deep introspection….. I begin my essay

Eyes are the windows to a soul….

It has been writ…

It began when I looked at my baby photos……I often cry when I look at mine…the image is the body of a mere infant (cute and adorable) but the eyes…remind me of an old soul, as though I knew something as a baby….I fear I was quite a  melancholic baby, not sure if I ever smiled or laughed, my photos do not reveal that- I appear startled and curious, my twin was and is always the carefree soul….. One of my perceptive teachers once told me that my face hides nothing of my inner feeling and so …….

I shied away from cameras, I  practically cried and yelled at photographers….it took me a while to learn to trust the camera and whoever was behind the ghastly contraption, I feared I was perhaps revealing too much of my inner self…..but my eyes veiled the secret….

This analysis is written as I make links to my past, akin to a reawakening of certain dormant areas of my mind……(no not a sleeping dragon or tiger….maybe yes the reptilian part of the brain which holds our past, the seat of our lineage and narratives of a past long ago forgotten).

In truth these revelations I conclude are linked to my private tuition of my son of late…..mainly within numeracy and literacy…..I have taken extra care to invest my time daily to unlearn and un-condition his agile mind to his negative self-image and dislike of anything mathematical…he has taught me how to understand him the way his teachers have not and perhaps will not understand (I think the will is not there).

I have come to understand through this process the secret of numbers, why and how prime numbers are formed…..and all through using simple numbers in creative fashions

As a child I simply learnt in a rote fashion but silenced the questioning…why? how? No-one ever explained or showed me. Sadly, I silenced the voices within and numbed my brain to the magic of science and physics, because I wanted to learn in my own time, through my own motivations, doubts and fears….insecurities.

You would understand school can be unpleasant when you think differently to other children. I blocked this skill I had of numbers all the way through school. I recall telling a tutor at a stage that I hated maths.  It was not the numbers but merely how I was taught and how I was being “misunderstood or bet yet, mis-educated”.  Through my own perseverance and will I never failed a single grade. I perhaps ranked within the above average category in most subjects but never in maths…was It my Achilles heel- do not even start with trig, calculus and stats!!

I think that’s why I shied away from architecture- because of all the calculations- although analysis and creativity of concept and artistic form was a passion and still is a passion….;)

Due to my self-fulfilling prophecy that I would fail my stats (critical to my Psychology degree) at varsity – I realised this dream- I failed dismally! But what happened the next year when I sat through another half course blew me, my lecturers and family away! I passed with an A minus (final exam- me- stats what?!!!!)

Well, yes sheer motivation and fear of failure- did the trick….I had unblocked the years of the poor self image I had. I had learnt to possess the secret joy by uncovering my own temple- making the unfamiliar familiar yet again… I was no longer a caged bird but a free spirit…!

None of the maths teachers I had at neither primary nor high school provided me with the answers to: “how and why” – I think they did not know the “how” and “why” because they themselves were products of the very system of which I had been a rebel!

My dear friend, it is sad that we teach children the way we:  “Think is right” and how they should be taught…but we do not wait to see how they understand and provide them with enough latitude and fluidity to derive their own understanding and meaning. The mind is a river….once it is put into a dam- it no longer flows…the same happens when we learn-when we shut down our own thinking we become zombies….stagnant to all creativity and innovation…

At the core of my being I love numbers and deciphering meaning within them. I approach them through my own creativity, which I see in my son but I fear it is being silenced by a rigid learning environment which seeks to numb children with the brainwashing drug Ritalin!!! I do believe that in most cases the use of this drug is unnecessary- teachers are not teachers anymore….

One of my all time favourite films- “ A beautiful mind” with Russell Crowe, comes to mind as I compose this essay.

Picture the scene when he looks at his tie through the lemonade glass and he sees the reflection and interplay of glass and light cast kaleidoscopes of colour on his tie.  This scene always reminds me of a song we sang at school:

“Round, like a circle in a spiral

Like a wheel within a wheel.

Never ending or beginning,

On an ever spinning wheel

Like a snowball down a mountain

Or a carnival balloon

Like a carousel that’s turning

Running rings around the moon

Like a clock whose hands are sweeping

Past the minutes on its face

And the world is like an apple

Whirling silently in space

Like the circles that you find

In the windmills of your mind….”

copyright © 1995 – 2009 by Marisa Meisters

The mind is like a windmill…always churning….creating currents of winds…winds of change but I fear that most of us have shut them down…….

So my dear friends….the winds of change are turning yet again in South Africa, but I wonder: “who is this wind that is coming?” and: “who is the windmill”? You might ask yourself: How does this relate to the eyes and how I began this essay?

Simply put: the eyes are the circles (irises and spirals that are the beginning to it all).

If we willingly shut our eyes, we shut out powerful reasoning, creativity, innovation- our light. Yet if we are blind and cannot use the physical lens, we can still “see”- through our mind’s eye….

I do not need to lecture you on the intricate connectivity of numbers to music, art and creativity….the deaf still compose beautiful music which they may never “hear” and the blind still paint visions of sunsets and rainbows which they may never “see”, they do all this through their minds’ eyes and ears….

In essence, we are “mistresses”….to the minds that are our “masters”.

à bientôt….