Mea culpa.

I have done wrong. Did I have any intention for it to turn out this way? No. I didn't see it coming. But it came from a place of people, needing a point of contact. A connection was made. I dipped in rather than was wise. I wrecked it because my folly was misaligned to my thoughts of what was 'right'. I behaved inconsistently because my actions were inconsistent with my thoughts, the ideal state I wish to be in. My need for human contact overbearing 'right'. Was it bound to happen? Yes. My heart is misaligned.  I hurt others in the process, discarded my reputation, put myself to shame.
My only need to justify is mea culpa. We are messy by nature. Feelings, thoughts, intentions, get messy. This was my mess.  It doesn't make it okay. It is what it is.

A day of little gems, like magic gleaming from the ordinary;

A child I have been trying to woo, who I thought hated me, who I overheard informing the drinks aunty that 'this teacher is very nice' as I was walking away to help his friend, who was stuck with a bicycle lock which couldn't open. I couldn't believe it was him, I wanted to go back and ask him, what did you just say?

The being able to help the boy release his bike from the lock, by wedging it with a hammer - which I just did to give it a shot, not really thinking it would work. It was WIN that it did. And the boy, usually 'too cool', who was cool enough to really say thank you, more than once.  No matter how 'cool' they try to look sometimes, mostly they are polite sweethearts.

The father who waited at the side of the road as I brought his son back, and grandpa. Asking if I wanted coffee, awkwardly. And the child who called just to chat and say he 'lied!' when he said 'Sorry wrong number' yesterday.

And the lesson remains the same- be open, and things will come to you, connections happen.

Human lives are, by definition, messy. There is mistrust,because there are lies, selfishness, deception. There are schisms between intentions and actions, ideas and doing; and there are mash ups between love and hate, wants and needs, altruism and bitter selfishness, good and evil.

We clash, we tear each other part, we lie to others and ourselves, we cause epic messes. It's the messiness of experiencing everything it means to be human. It's the messiness of being divinely thought, yet humanly weak and destined to fall. Things don't fit neatly into boxes and categories, neither do people.  They are entwined in the tangles of their own messes.

#1 (memories)

The first time i felt heartbreak was when i was 17.

I couldn't accept it, it wrenched my whole being. I called him over and over again, or texted, or did whatever it was just to get his attention. I threatened to hurt myself. At one point, and I remember this distinctly, because I knew at that time that I would remember this for a long time. I played Galapogos out loud and lay on the floor. I took whatever pills i found in the fridge and downed it with some medicinal alcohol. I took a gulp of some washing liquid found in the bathroom, and threw it back out, bubbles in my throat. I used a blade and in a fit, cut my thighs over and over. I called him and ... i don't remember, maybe said what i did. He said something to the effect of, if you want to talk to me, talk to me... you don't have to do anything stupid to get my attention. Well i did at that time, because he wouldn't talk to me... wouldn't respond, wouldn't turn his head to look at me.

I couldn't turn off the voice in my head - the hungry demon who kept saying over and over, you're not wanted.. you're not wanted. What made me obsessed, i think now, was rejection. I wouldve done anything, did do... to get his attention. Now, and then, i think how incredibly stupid i was, and in some ways, still am. Because i still know that pain. how can i deny that, that gutwrenching, destroying pain? like being torn open from the inside out. and that same voice, saying, you're not wanted. you're not worth it.

That night, every fifteen minutes almost systematically i woke up and rushed to the bathroom to throw up. it was like something pulled out from deep, deep in my gut. it left a bitter bile in my mouth, and later i saw, some black stuff at the bottom of the toilet.

Earlier that night my parents found me, asleep or under the surmise of it. They asked me if i wanted something to eat on their way home. I sounded as normal as i can and said no. I made sure i was in bed by the time they got home. did they have any clue? I don't know. Till this day no one knows what happened that night. I couldn't eat anything the next morning. I drank something and threw it back up. Later on, i ate an apple, telling myself if i can keep this down, i'll be alright. i did. i was alright. I seem to remember watching the Oscars on TV. A few days later, i was surprised to discover red wounds, slashed on my thighs.

That was at seventeen. For how incredibly stupid and desperate that was, how can i erase it and say that wasn't me? It is a part of my history... and how i understand things.. the world, people. how i understand desperation and pain. how i feel for people. How i straddle the world of making sense and insanity. how i learn to keep calm and ... through all the years of coping, disowning some things and accepting others and myself with it, how i learn to regulate my own emotions and thoughts, how i learn the necessary sense of humour. and have a sense of proportion, and knowing the next closest thing is death. and learn to be thankful for what i do have.

I wonder if its a battle for everyone. This daily debilitating struggle against self-doubt, fear, insecurity. The kind that stops you from working like you really can, and loving like you really are able to..and want to. Because being able to love, and be loved, is something you have to be secure enough to do - otherwise it becomes a mess, a rubble of defenses, jealousy, neediness. You become parched, and ugly.

But it is not a comparison, or a contest. Everyone has a different story, they fight their own battles, they make their own way.

But you want to be able to fulfill what you have dreamed of, deep inside, a seed planted when you were a child. That you are special; that you are beautifully made by an awesome God, that you are able to do great things. You have seen the edge of this limitlessness within you, when you were in youth. You want to be able to make this complete. You need to, because otherwise you will battle for the rest of your life - you will be bitter, you will be hindered from pure love.

You don't want to grow - jealousy, anger, self-righteousness, vanity, fear; ugliness.
You want to grow - purity, love, beauty - LOVE.
Then cultivate these.

I remember hearing this, that changed my life forever.

In the beginning, there was a dance. An eternal dance. And we were created to be a part of this dance. But along the way, we have forgotten, we forget the steps. So messengers came to teach us again the steps of this dance. They came to teach us how to love, how to dance around others so they could also know this love and return to this dance. This is why I do what I do and who I aim to be. Even though I had forgotten it - even though I get distracted, and tired, emotional and unproductive. Even though i act like a child sometimes, and even though sometimes i want things i think i want. But this is really why i live - i want to be able to dance like that, to be part of that eternal dance of love. And i want this more than anything else - this is the most important thing, even through loss, even through growing old and bitter, even through anger and pride - in the end, i want just to be able to reach that place that i can dance in spite of myself.