MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “birthday”

Five Whispers

https://thumbs.dreamstime.com/x/number-five-birthday-candle-12979894.jpghttps://thumbs.dreamstime.com/x/number-five-birthday-candle-12979894.jpgFive is a milestone. Especially when it comes to time, and most specifically years. Five years of writing on this blog, I have come to realise that the more you manage to express, the free-er you eventually feel, and the more you want to write.

But, there is more.

You realise how quickly time passes and how much your life can change in the span of (just) a year. How many things can happen in 12 months that have the power to change your life, your mood, your perspective.

You come to understand that knowledge is truly power, no matter where it comes from. And you witness for yourself that the more you expand your reading, the more it embellishes your writing. A creative mind has no rest; it needs its outlets of expression.

When you start considering the passing of time, however, you conclude this very fact: “Life is about making an impact, not making an income” (Kevin Kruse).

Life will never be perfect. But we can choose to make it work.

And in the end we only need a few things to survive. But most importantly, when you love what you have, you have everything you need.

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The Christmas Birthday

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/3b/7d/ac3b7d15a7cead65049ee8d365e92b11.jpgThere is a problem with having your birthday on Christmas day (25 December). Well, there are actually quite a few, but there is one main one: that you risk being forgotten.

It’s just that on that day everything seems so much bigger than you, that your birthday, to many people, simply passes by unnoticed.

And it’s not fair. Because it’s not as if you chose to be born on that specific day. Like so many other things in life, it just happened.

So, apart from the 2-in-1 combined gifts for Christmas and birthday that you unwittingly are forced to accept, you essentially never have a day during the year that is just for you. That one day that you know is yours, and that people think of and associate with you. Because literally everything on that day is associated with something else, and for that it doesn’t really feel very birthday-y.

And what is worse, you spend the entire year waiting for that one day, when everything is crammed into those 24 hours that pass-by so quickly, you hardly have the time to acknowledge what just happened.

It is widely recognised, though, that people with December birthdays live Christmas more intensely, despite being overshadowed by it. They do unwillingly assent to the fact that they are classified as people of that year, despite the fact that they only showed up during its last five days, and it is simply unfair to lose an entire year like that. But there is nothing really you can do about it. Apart from remind everyone that when they’re out celebrating this festive season, there is one more reason there too.

Yet, no matter the fact that you do feel severely neglected, you can’t not delight in the fact that you were still born during the most wonderful time of the year, when everything seems just so much more lovely, and that may be a blessing in itself.

The Festive Happening

http://rlv.zcache.com/reindeer_christmas_party_invitation_soft_grey-rc8e45aaac1b64d25b81e718f3b8f457f_zk9gs_324.jpg?rlvnet=1The sun set early this time of year, wrapping the snow-capped slopes into a flurry of darkness. The elves scrambled to turn the lights on, earlier each day, until the chief elf finally remembered they had an automatic mechanism they could activate to do it for them. Today was special though. There was a happening being planned for a month now and everyone was very excited.

Mrs Clause had baked her famous huge vanilla cookies with colourful chocolate buttons that melted in your mouth with the first bite. The elves were busy with decorations, confetti, presents and the like. Santa was overseeing everything as usual. And the reindeer were trying to keep everything hush so that Rudolph would not find out. But once again, Rudolph felt left out; as though all the other South Pole residents knew something he didn’t. He was so sad, his nose would not even glow.

When evening set and the elves deemed the time was right, Dasher, Comet, Donner and Blitzen feigned they had work to do at Santa’s stables and quietly left. Vixen and Cupid were trying to convince Rudolph to join them for a nightcap, while Dancer and Prancer rushed awkwardly into their room throwing garlands and sparkles overhead the saddened reindeer. They wanted to get Rudolph into a festive mood. It was his day to celebrate, and he should not be distressed about silly things. To Dancer and Prancer everything not worth laughing about was silly. They did manage to get Rudolph to crack a smile, though. But he then moaned “leave me alone”, and rolled up on his bed.

Vixen knew something more radical should be done. She signaled to Blitzen from the bedroom window and he ran to Santa for the emergency signal.

The whistle was heard almost instantly making Rudolph jump up like a spring. It was his secret communication with Santa. He was the only one needed whenever he heard it. He ran out the door without saying a word, and the other reindeer rushed to the stables.

Santa, what is it? I came as fast as I could!” Santa smiled and placed his large arms around Rudolph’s neck. The red velvet coat felt like a warm fuzzy blanket around his frozen fur. “Have you forgotten what today is?” asked Santa with a mischievous smile forming on his plump face. Rudolph had not noticed that they were standing in a dark stable all this time. When a dong was heard, he leaped back and out of fright, his nose began to beam red. Was there danger there? Did Santa need protecting? Rudolph was scared and still did not understand what was going on.

Suddenly, fireworks began to sound in the cold, frosty air and a loud festive “surprise” filled his eardrums, as lights, candles and decorations fired up inside the stables. Rudolph looked around in amazement – they had all remembered. It was his birthday, and this was the loveliest surprise he had ever had. And when Mrs Clause came forth with a batch of freshly made soft-core cookies, he knew there was nowhere else he would rather be.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Safety First

More festive reindeer stories here.

Whispers Three

three ice creamThree is a number that symbolizes completeness, the union of two opposing parts to form a whole. The one that sees the world as idyllic as we would like it to be; and the one who views the reality as it is. In three, we see reflected the right mix of the founding elements that construct who we are. For many, three is the number of good fortune. I choose to believe so too, because it’s been three years already since I first started this blog. And it has opened up so many more perspectives for me than I could ever imagine.

It is through this very blog that I discover who I am, what I can do, and what I would like to achieve.

It is by writing incessantly here that I can find refuge, experiment with creative freedom, record memories, share a travel log, and find a friend.

This blog has also opened up opportunities to explore all sorts of writing that is not simply limited to fiction, but goes beyond, to reflections, critical thought and political analysis. It allows me to believe that the world has no borders, and neither should your imagination and determination to do something great.

I am so grateful for all the followers I have gained (and continue to) during this journey. I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am and like me, you’re looking forward to more.

Keep whispering those thoughts in your head; sometime they might turn into actions that may lead to significant change.

A different kind of crisis

Xmas BirthdayGetting snowed in on a day when your to-do list is over-piling, that may be considered a crisis. Dripping donut jam on your clean shirt the minute you step out of the baker’s just two steps away from your office, that may too be considered a crisis. Losing money at a casino fun night, is well maybe not so much of a crisis (unless it is all your savings). We all face different crises in our lives and we all view them differently.

The third-world crisis of lacking food, clean water and a home is far more severe than the first-world crisis of not having matching shoes for a new outfit worth hundreds of dollars. It is all a matter of perspective. But perhaps, with just a couple of weeks before another year passes, we can take a second and rethink…everything.

The holiday season is one to rejoice, one to spread the love and show you care. But it is also one in which you are silently prodded to make amends, first and foremost with yourself.

The most intense period of crisis one can face is when this joyous season coincides with their birthday. That is when a crisis certainly hits. Because you begin to feel all the more intense about the fact of adding yet another year to those that have past, of becoming so many more years young (because you try and avoid the word “old”). You may finally believe the compliment that you are like wine, it only gets better with age. But deep down you do feel the melancholy strike, because there are very few people who achieve exactly what they want at the precise time in which they so desire. It is hard feeling incomplete. As though you are nowhere near where you’ve dreamt to be. And it is all the more difficult when you know that another birthday is rapidly approaching, signifying that time is still flying and there is nothing you can do.

Apart from one thing.

Continue to dream. Change what you can, and leave aside what you can’t. Rejoice in the warmth of the season and learn to appreciate the good of what you have. Maybe next year things will finally come your way. But, however it may be, you’ve already come a long way. You’re still standing and that it is the most important of it all.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Getting Seasonal

A blown-out candle

imageI woke up and I knew it was morning. It felt like sunrise. And I could hear the birds tweeting. Cars were rushing by across the street below my bedroom window. Their frequency made me aware that it was morning rush hour – people still had the energy to yell at each other. So I knew. It was definitely morning.

I opened my eyes but it made no difference. The darkness was still there.

I felt my way across the room and into the bathroom. I heard the tap running and felt the coldness of the water as it ran through my fingers and splashed onto my face. I did not know what it looked like. What colour it had if any. I only knew it was cold if you turned one tap and hot if you turned the other. It was like magic really, something that could be regulated by your very fingertips.

Mother helped me get dressed. I could hear her voice breaking and could tell she was holding back the tears. Another year and nothing had changed. I had lost all hope that anything would. She told me I was wearing new clothes – designer ones – and that I looked all handsome and grown up. She was proud of me she said. She had a wonderful boy that all the girls at school would develop a crush on. I didn’t care much about that. I didn’t even know what the girls at school looked like. I barely knew what I looked like.

It was my birthday today. But for me it was just as any other day.

I was twelve years old and I was blind.

I wasn’t always blind. I could see until I was three. Then a genetic mutation took over my optic nerves and I steadily progressed into a life of darkness.

I don’t remember much of what it is like to see. I hardly remember the faces of my parents. But one thing I do remember is the sparkle in their eyes whenever they saw me. I hope it is still there even though I can no longer see it.

My friends came over for a party. I don’t really know who they are or what they look like. I just know they are as tall as me and have pretty much the same characteristics.

I had a birthday cake today. Mother said it was decorated with Spiderman, but I don’t know what he actually looks like so I imagine him to be the coolest superhero there is. The good thing about not being able to see is that you can pretend that everything has a much better appearance than it does in reality. Mother and I play this game where she describes one thing and I describe how I imagine it to be. My version is always better. At least that makes her smile. I can sense she is devastated. She secretly hopes that one doctor was right and I might get part of my eyesight back eventually. But I know that’s not going to happen. I could hear it in the tone of his voice that he simply wanted to give her some good news to console her.

The worst thing about being blind is that on your birthday you cannot even see your own candles to blow them out.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Shake it Up

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