MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “imagination”

Whisper it Seven

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Seven is a special number. It is considered lucky because we have an affinity for it: most people consider seven their favourite number or choose it when asked to pick a number between one and ten.

Seven is prevalent in our daily lives too: seven days in a week, seven continents, seven oceans, seven vertebrae in the neck, seven colours in a rainbow, seven wonders of the ancient world, seven deadly sins. In fact, some researchers argue that human memory works best if it remembers up to seven items.

Seven also features strongly in the religions of the world: in the creation story of the Bible, God made the world in six days and rested on the seven, thus scholars believe it represents perfection or completeness. In Judaism, there are seven heavens. In the Islam’s holy book, the Koran, Muslims making the pilgrimage to Mecca walk around the Kaaba seven times. In Chinese culture, seven represents Yin and Yang combined with the Five Elements (water, fire, earth, wood and metal), while in Confucianism this combination is believed to represent harmony.

Seven is, therefore, an important number and most often a lucky one.

Seven years pass by in a flash.

I have written a lot during these seven years (794 posts on this blog) and a lot has happened. It is enough time to reflect, to grow, to mature, to experience new things, to change the way you react to situations, to learn how to deal with life especially when things don’t come the way you plan or hoped they would. It is time that allows you to become stronger and more resilient. And one way of doing this – for me – is through writing, right here. By making my own experiences and observations into fictional stories. By writing motivational stories that I would really like someone else to tell me. By drawing optimism and positivity from the words that fill a page on a screen.

Seven years may be many or few, depending on how you look at it. But they are part of what makes us who we are and a chance to reflect on where we are, according to where we want to be.

So here’s to many more, with the wish to never run dry of inspiration and creativity!

Deciphering obscure objects

https://www.google.gr/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjn8a_wuPfdAhXD3KQKHR9mAx8QjRx6BAgBEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Folhocurioso2015.blogspot.com%2F2015%2F10%2Fcomo-se-forma-neblina.html&psig=AOvVaw0xWhJTnB9Okhc0pQC7eV19&ust=1539108693186256Look at this. Look at it closely. What do you think it is?”

She showed him a picture of an object that was too unclear to decipher. It was oblong with sharp edges. It could be anything really. His mind began to race. The young boy had millions of images in his head as to what that object may be. They were bombarding him like fighter plane missiles.

Here’s the catch,” his teacher told him. “You only have two guesses. So make them count”.

The boy became even more agitated. Only two. The margin of error was too tight.

The object could be anything. How could he make sure he found the right answer?

In his head, he was putting together a jigsaw – placing his imaginary items onto the unknown object and assessing how far it matched.

It was a trial of imagination, of expectation, of prediction.

The task was to understand that very often in life, we imagine one thing, we expect another, we make it up in our heads to be that which we think it is, and in the end we end up disappointed when we find out it is something extremely different.

In the end we get hurt from our own expectations, when all we need to do is train ourselves to expect the lowest, even from the places and people we though the highest of.

Six Whispers

six anniversaryIn numerology, the number six is considered “not too hot, not too cold, not too fast nor too slow”. Six is usually just right, hardly ever part of any extremes, with a well-balanced nature and a “happy number indeed”.

Six years ago, I started writing this blog. Essentially, to externalise the whispers that were mounting in my head about everything and anything. After all, “a writer is someone who pays attention to the world” (Susan Sontag) and it is true that “as a writer you try to listen to what others aren’t saying…and write about the silence” (N.R. Hart). More so, when you make time to write – because you will never find it unless you force yourself – you find that there is always something to write about, especially what doesn’t kill you, want helps you survive, what changes your perception of the world.

I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say” (Flannery O’ Connor). Indeed, writing stimulates thought. Perhaps that is the main reason why writers are first urged to read a lot. And why parents are encouraged to read to their children, for a child who reads will be an adult who thinks.

In six years of blog writing, there is the fear of being repetitive and inescapably there are topics that come up again and again, due to their importance and their intrinsic part of our lives. In six years, you see yourself mature and grow, evolve and gain new skills, new mentality and a new perspective on life as everything you experience shapes you.

Most of all you learn to appreciate the concept of time. Because you find that you often waste too much of it without real reason. Time has a wonderful way of showing us what really matters. We need to focus on the small things because eventually we’ll realise that these were the big things that made life great. In the end, we only regret the things we left unsaid the chances we didn’t take. So devote your time to things that make you happy, to the people you love and to the activities that enrich your soul. Time is the greatest gift to give, because it is like giving a portion of your life that you will never get back.

We can’t predict the future and perhaps it is better that way. Life can certainly be complicated. But we shouldn’t wait for things to get better to do something. We need to learn to be happy right now, otherwise we’ll simply run out of time.

After all, we can’t control the things that happen, but what really matters is the way we react to everything.

Summing it all up are three words that say everything: “live, love, laugh”.

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.

Keeping it simple

https://tphogan.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/fountain-pen-blank-paper.jpgPen in hand, he stared at the blinking cursor on the white background. He was stuck. There was nothing to write about. They told him to keep it simple. But simple is not as easy as it seems.

His head was swarming with fairy tales of magic and dragons and princesses and kings and monsters. But they were all asleep somewhere, unable to be driven out of his head and brought to life.

He fixed his posture, straightened his back and inhaled deeply. He then slowly let out the air that had refreshed his lungs and looked hopefully at his computer screen.

Still nothing.

Where had it all gone? He was a person whose imagination ran wild and who could write about anything at anytime. But not now.

His emails bleeped away with newsletters and greetings from colleagues, but all he could hear was the clock ticking and his deadline drawing nearer.

All he had to do was write about something, anything. It was supposed to be simple. Supposed being the key word.

He moved to the couch to clear his head. But he soon fell asleep. Two hours later he leapt up like a damaged spring and raced to his computer.

Something. Simple.

Sometimes the things we take for granted, the simple things, are not merely as simple or as easy or as abundantly available as we may think.

He had found his topic.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Simple

Teaching how to disassemble the chaos

http://www.newyorker.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/O-Neill-X-Games-on-Ice-1200.jpgShe screamed something incomprehensible, slammed her hands on the table, sturdily got up and left the room. If there were a door, she would have slammed it in anger.

He remained staring at the empty seat. Motionless. Unreactive. He had become accustomed to such bursts of anxiety, as he called them. He knew that she would soon blow off steam and come to realise that he was right all along. But that was something she should do on her own. She needed the space to calm down and process it all. He knew she could do more. She just had to believe it too.

She soon returned embarrassed but full of thirst for more. He had succeeded in awakening her desire to improve. To reach the potential he had seen in her from the very first day.

She loved ice-skating. It was the perfect combination of dance, expression and imagination. And on the ice, she felt more liberated than ever. It brought some tranquility to her otherwise chaotic life. Because no matter what went on at home, during her busy schedule, or in the world in general, on that ice rink she forgot it all, and got lost in the music, allowing it to drift her away, into a parallel universe, a utopia.

She was a smart girl, craving knowledge, demonstrating a general interest in everything that surrounds us, and with a fantasy as large and open as her heart.  She generally respected her teachers, especially those who inspired her and taught her to love learning. Those who showed her where to look, but left her to see things for herself. The ones who taught her to be critical of everything she heard, and, no matter what, to always try and improve; to compete, not with others, but with herself.

But the one who she loved the most was her ice-skating teacher. He was the once who acted as a mentor, a guide, a psychotherapist, a friend, a family member. He was so much more than a teacher and that is why she could so freely unleash every emotion in front of him. Because she knew he would understand. And he would support her either way.

Like Albert Einstein had said, “it is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge”. Because it is a fact that the (right) teachers are the ones who create all other professions, the ones who inspire you to be the best you can be, and to find some order in the chaos that is our world.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Chaos

The expectation cake

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/06/69/65/06696539ee1ca72964593a3b663854df.jpgHelen was baking a cake. She knew exactly how she would want it to be. She had it all planned in her head up to every last detail. It was simple really – you took a bunch of ingredients, mixed them all together, place it in the oven and let it bake. Then the fun begun. Because everyone knows that it is the icing on the cake that makes all the difference.

Once the cake cooled down, Helen began to implement what she had already so careful planned in her head. She added colors to the sugar icing and delicately began to decorate. The cake had been placed in layers, stacked one on top of the other, each shrinking on their way up. She wrapped a red satin ribbon around the bottom layer and decorated the top layer with blue lilies made of icing. It seemed exquisite. It was exactly what she had imagined. She stepped back to admire her work and was herself impressed at how well she had managed to bring to life the image she had mentally created. She was proud of herself.

She likened the cake with her expectations of life, for she believed that if you set your mind on something and tried hard enough, you could realise all the things whose value you heighten in your head.

But then it happened.

A football came crashing through her kitchen window, landing straight onto the layered cake. The icing splattered onto her apron and across the kitchen, whose floor was also filled with pieces of broken glass.

The neighbor’s son was heard yelling an embarrassed “sorry”, but that made absolutely no difference now.

Reality struck with a thunderous collision for Helen that day. And that is was when she realized that sometimes, we shouldn’t expect so much from the slightest of things. Because in the end, expectation is indeed the root of all heartache.

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.

Things to do with a bucket

bucketA bucket is a very useful object to have. Mainly because it is light and very useful for a range of things. Here are some ideas:

1)      You can kick the bucket – but you don’t want to do that metaphorically – literally, however, you may consider it, especially if at the receiving end there is something (or someone) that will help you vent out your anger, given that you still haven’t obtained that punch bag we were talking about.

2)      You can always fill the bucket with water and leave it on the edge of your window/balcony. The ‘woosh’ as it falls and the water splashing out into the air as it hits the ground (hopefully not any passer-by) is priceless.

3)      You can always use it for what it was initially meant to be used for – that is to fill up with water to be used for things such as cleaning. Just don’t forget the mop, otherwise it’s not much use.

4)      You can loan it to a circus. Buckets are a big part of clown acts. You know, one clown steps into the bucket of (usually) paint, and gets stuck, the other climbs a ladder and drops another similar bucket on the head of the other clown, and so forth – you get the picture.

5)      You can use it as a basin to contain the water leaking from a broken pipe or a hole in the ceiling that causes your apartment / house to obtain its own little puddle, as those responsible procrastinate in ever fixing the problem.

6)      You can use it as a prop in an animated version of the catchy-song between Henry and Lisa – but you might want to open a hole in it first, so as to match the theme.

7)      You can use it to create your own “bucket list” – it is simple: create any list and place it inside the bucket. There you go!

There are many things to do with a bucket – some even involve tearing it apart and using the pieces for e.g. ornaments, etc. – all you need is some imagination!

That tip-tap in the roof

listening3The other night I heard it again. A tip-tap in the roof. I had heard it before but it was about 1-2 months ago and although it did freak me out, I soon forgot about it. But now it seems its back. It sounds like something is tiptoeing in the roof. In the space between the tiles and the ceiling. I don’t know what it is. And I’m not sure if I want to find out either!

I do wonder what it is though. And it is at times like this when your imagination truly goes wild. Hey, as long as your dreams don’t get affected, turning into nightmares from which you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, covering up over the top with your bed sheets in the hope that nothing will actually come crashing through the ceiling on to you. Like those weird creatures from The Golden Compass, or something similar…

I wonder if it’s The Borrowers living up there…Ok maybe just one. But still, I haven’t noticed anything missing so I’m not sure…Perhaps they actually do borrow stuff and then bring it back before I even notice its absence? Could happen.

Maybe it’s a pigeon trapped. Shouldn’t we help it out? But would you really risk going up there and being surprised by what it is? I don’t think I have either the suitable clothes or the necessary psychological power to face that challenge…I still remember the scare I had when my beloved cat discovered something under the oven and we thought it was a dead mouse, until my mum swept out a raw meatball. How it got under there at that condition no one knows…

I still wonder what it is…Thing is, I’m sure my curiosity will be swiped away by everything else that I should do or actually should be doing for that matter. In fact, I think I should get back to work. As long as I don’t hear a patter on the roof, I think it’ll be fine. But, one last question: what could it be??

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: A Source of Anxiety

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