MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the month “May, 2022”

Farm escapes

©Brenda Cox

The weekends at the farm used to be a drag as a child. She saw them as a chore; one she was forced to do, and often had to be bribed simply to get into the car and go there. Plus, the bumpy drive there was a nightmare for her stomach. But she nonchalantly endured it all.

What she would realise much later on, was how lucky she was to have these weekends in the first place. A countryside to escape to, and grandparents to spoil her.

It was only when she grew up that she would acknowledge their value.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Walking Habits

Why do you walk so much? You cover miles each day. Don’t you get bored of it? Or tired?

It was a question many asked. Few comprehended why he was thrilled to wake up and go for a walk to start his day.

He would stroll up hills, on beachfronts, around the city, but mainly wherever there was a view and it was quiet.

Walking helped him clear his mind. It made him zone-out of everything in his head and helped rid of the accumulated daily stress. The endorphins on the rise greatly improved his mood, and it was a perfect energy boost to the day.

For health reasons, walking is good in that it burns calories, strengthens your muscles and helps maintain a healthy weight.

But more so, by walking he discovered so many places he didn’t know about. And he learnt to pay attention to the details. To everything that make up this beautiful world we live in but hardly notice.

He usually walked and talked. It helped save time and get caught up with friends. So by the time he was back home, showered, and ready to get to work, he had already exercised and socialised simultaneously.

It’s one of those things that you won’t fully acknowledge unless you try it for yourself. That was his answer in the end.  

The choice of a day

Beautiful days are a matter of choice. Each day is what it comes and what we make of them. Be it bright or rainy, cloudy or sunny, dull or exciting, monotonous or overwhelming, we are the ones who ultimately decide how we pass those hours we have.

Unfortunately, we waste most of them. We use up time by overthinking too much, by stressing about trivial stuff, by creating scenarios that will never play out. And we fail to see the beauty of what lies before us in every single moment.

Life is but a series of fleeting instances. And if we’re not too careful, we may just miss out on most of them because we’re too worried about what might happen instead of what is occurring right there, in this very minute.

In the end, we are the ones who choose our own state of mind, the thoughts we allow to override us, and the extent to which we enjoy each moment.

A room for you

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

We all need a room of our own. A space we can escape to. To dream, create, meditate, dance, sing or simply to be silent in. Four walls in which the world is locked out and we forge our own rules and conditions of how things operate.

We need our own room for our own mental sanity.

Because regardless, there are moments you need to regroup. To regain yourself, to gather your thoughts, to reconsider your perspective on life, what you did right and wrong.

We need an area to get lost in so that we can find ourself again.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The way we feel about it all

https://thepsychologist.bps.org.uk/sites/thepsychologist.bps.org.uk/files/feelings.jpg

We tend to associate people with events, circumstances, and above all emotions. It’s the feeling they evoke when we first meet. That aura they radiate. The vibes they emit. You know you click with someone from the first instance you set eyes on each other. And your intuition is often never wrong.

The thing is, if we encounter people at a negative condition, it’s very difficult to revoke that prejudice about them that we’ve already created. We may forget the event, or what actually happened, but what remains is how it made us feel. And feelings are an important part of who we are. They affect every single thing – from our attitude, our words our perspective, to our appetite.

It’s true that the chaos and irrationality that govern our everyday lives certainly do not help calm our often inexplicable nerves and agitation. But we try. We invest effort constantly to maintain a mental serenity that will help us get through the day, the week, the month, and so forth. It’s not always easy. And we certainly require some assistance in changing the way we feel. Perhaps we think too much about it all. Because our experience of life is seamless and smooth until the moment we stop to rationalise it all, to overthink, overanalyse and often overreact about it.

Weekends are for relaxing

©MCD

We seem to be spending too much of the (working) week looking forward to the weekend. Those two days that we can escape the chaos and irrationality that constitute our daily contemporary lives.

In essence, though, we’re anticipating this end of week so much because we need it. We ought to relax and our very organisms are actually calling for it. It is a sign that we’re experiencing life in rhythms that our beyond natural; we stress too much over meaningless things; we anguish and rush; we work, sleep, and eat at irregular tempo and hours.

We need a couple of days to do nothing that entails a tight schedule and an alarm clock. To allow ourselves to lie in, to walk on the beach, to go for a coffee, to meet friends, to engage in endless conversations, and to not think about the passing time.

We know we’ve relaxed and replenished, when all we’ve done is sleep and surrender to leisure, and just like that the weekend has passed, without us realising exactly how. But we feel complete and happy, and that’s what truly matters. And what will help us get through another week.

A flower for words

©Dale Rogerson

He left it there, tall, sturdy and fresh, in a vase decorated with a simple bow that made it stand out even more.

It was a simple gesture that would be greatly appreciated. He was sure of it, because he knew her too well.

He could even envision the smile lighting up her face when her eyes would catch sight of it.

He had to leave early that morning, despite the fact that she enjoyed being lazy in bed a while longer when there was no pressing obligation that forced either of them to jump out.

This was a compromise.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Clean Slate

© Na’ama Yehuda

Love stories of the past are like wilted flowers. Their time – and season – has ended. They were wonderful while they lasted, but they had a due date. And it has expired.

We need to let them go. Throw them out so that we have space to bring in new ones. Fresh, colourful, scented, alive. Ones that remind us that there is a bright future ahead and it’s up to us to make it prosperous.

We can remember, but it should not affect us. Perhaps that is the hardest to master.

Some flowers last forever; those we should nourish.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Art of Living

©MCD

“If you can handle the mood swings, the unexpected rage, the moaning, the breakdowns, the crying for no reason, the hypothetical and sometimes psychotic scenarios, all those small things that tick her off… well, then you can pretty much handle anything”.

Tom was a psychotherapist. A happily married man for almost half a century now. And his favourite uncle. His advise always worked. And he knew what to do to retain calm in any relationship, to help reconciliation and bring back the good humour of any couple.

“Take her for a walk. Long ones usually help”, he smiled.

“It’s the fresh air. And the gesture that you care enough to comprehend that there is not much you can do. Heck at this state, not even she herself knows what she wants. And perhaps that is what agitates her the most”.

“Walk by the lake. The one with the windmill. She’ll stop and ponder at it. Breathing in and out as it turns, it will help her relax”.

“If you’re feeling lucky, you can even throw something clever, like ‘life is like the windmill; it goes round and round’. Or my personal favourite: ‘All the art of living lies in the fine mingling of letting go or holding on during the winds of change’.”

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