MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “memories”

Offline

There is a reason why many meditation and life-seizing coaches recommend you go offline for as much as you possibly can.

Scrolling on a screen all day steals your energy and mental clarity.

But most of all, it takes you away from life itself.

Because be it as it may, life is what is that blur that is happening around your screen. Just lift your head up long enough to devour it.

We go outdoors to breathe in fresh air; to socialise with real people; to view greener fields, bluer waters, and clearer skies; to marvel at the beauty of the world we live in.

Yet we do nothing of that.

Because even out there, we’re stuck on a screen. We’re so invested in what everyone else is doing and showing off online that we hardly exploit our ‘free’ time. As if a photo for a social post is enough to have said that we’ve done something different. Sure, photos are the concrete remnants of our memories. But there’s so much more to that. It’s all the moments we spend talking, laughing, doing things, hugging, and simply being around our loved ones that make the difference. It’s the feelings we create in those moments that cannot be captured or properly portrayed in a photograph.

So next time you’re out and about, around your favourite people (or not), put down your phone and observe the world around you.

You might just be amazed by it.

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Summer memories

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Summer memories are perhaps the strongest ones you create. Because they are born during a period when you are the most relaxed, bursting to enjoy every minute of free time you have amidst the shadow of a tough winter arriving.

Summer is almost synonymous with the beach – sand, sea, sun, and seashells.

The most wonderful souvenirs are usually these: a sun-kissed tan, a bright smile, and seashells from anywhere you’ve been.

Regardless of being the outer protective layer of the animal that once inhabited them, seashells are believed to attract good luck, wealth, and prosperity, while reminding you of serenity.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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

More than walls

© Brenda Cox

When we finally arrived, it was all there just like in that picture we had created in our minds after so many descriptions we had heard.

It was standing there, frozen in time, as if waiting for its owners to return.

Homes too have a soul. They encompass the feelings and memories their residents confide and build in them. The life we experience, the persons we shape ourselves to be, the laughter and tears we express, they all seep into the walls and are cautiously guarded like a well-kept secret.

It only takes a single breath to remember it all.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Don’t forget to remember

©The Rebel Bear

They say remembering everything is actually a curse. Because it doesn’t let you move on. Because you’re stuck in your memories and find it difficult to create new ones. Fortunate are those who begin every day from scratch, like a clean slate – a tabula rasa – ready for a new start.  Because you have nothing to pull you back; nothing with which to constantly compare things.

But is it better? To not remember?

The truth is we are our memories. Every single one of them has made us who we are. And there is no escaping that. There is no forgetting that either. Because it’s hard to forget something that forged you.

We’re not supposed to forget. Simply to remember less often. To spend more minutes in the present than in the past. Conscious of the experiences that brought us to this very moment. And aware that perhaps our greatest sentiments have not yet been felt.

What rocked the boat

© Penny Gadd

What’s the best memory you have of the trip?

He pondered for a while, his eyes gazing away and suddenly sparkling. A smile timidly spread across his face.

The boat ride across the river”.

He paused, breathed in the emotion and continued: “I didn’t think it would be anything mind-blowing, but I decided to go along anyway, given it was a must-do sightseeing. The water was far from clean, so we were all extra careful about potentially falling in”. He laughed.

We saw an alligator crawl in a few metres away. But that wasn’t what changed me. It was she…

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A winter memory

© Na’ama Yehuda

In the midst of summer, there came a winter memory.

It was tucked away neatly in a desk drawer. Perhaps to be saved as a memory for those nostalgic nights when you don’t feel like doing much and would rather recall the past for a while.

Perhaps it was there as a constant reminder that life brings happiness in the most unexpected of ways.

Either way, it caused a smile to form; a sweet flutter inside, and a deep breath.

They had come a long way since then.

There were still issues to solve; but they would get there. Eventually.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The magic seashell

©MCD

They were healing. Those long walks on the beach. Particularly when there was no one else around. Those hours of the day when the water was calm. There was something soothing in that feeling of warm sand under your feet and among your toes.

Since she was a child, Addison also loved to collect seashells along the water. It was something she learnt to do with her dad and a memory she cherished dearly.

But as she grew up, she found increasingly fewer seashells on the beach.

This was a day though when this changed.

There were abundant seashells along the waterline. All pretty in their own way, regardless of size.

But there was one that captured her gaze from afar. It was shinier than the rest, with bright rigged lines. It was beautiful in all its glory.

The moment she picked it up, she felt a blur and an instant pull. She blinked and realized she was on another beach somewhere even more mesmerizing than before. Someone was calling her name and she felt her heart skip a beat. She felt happy without knowing why. He was coming toward her and she could feel herself smile widely.

It may be a dream, or reality with a delay; it may take a magic seashell or simply perseverance; but whatever it is, life finds a way of compensating us for every hardship.

Trailing safe

© Ted Strutz

I never knew what it was like to live your entire life in the same place, let alone the same neighbourhood or even country”. His eyes welled up whenever he would recount the story.

His audience gasped with excitement. For them, it was thrilling to have lived in so many places around the world, to have the opportunity to gain so much experience, to be somewhere different every so often.

But to Ted, that very lack of stability was the problem.

He had grown up knowing he could just pick up his house and leave – literally – whenever there was trouble.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Inn of Hearts

People choose to stay at an inn to escape reality.  So it should be a place where they feel welcome and comfortable. But it should also transfer them to somewhere else. A place that only exists in their dreams. Until they come here”.

It was how her grandmother described the inn she managed, ever since Hazel could remember.

Hazel, named so because of her distinctive brown-coloured eyes, spent most of her summers at her grandma’s inn in the New Zealand countryside.

It was a place that combined nature, green valleys, mountains and beautiful beaches. The summers there were memorable. She would always find something adventurous and exciting to do, be it from simple gardening to trekking, gliding and rock-diving, so that by the time she entered adulthood she was already saturated with experiences.

But then, her career-driven self got carried away by city life and the business routine that meant having a leave but never actually taking it, and working incessantly.

It was only after her grandma passed away and she inherited the inn she loved, that she returned to it after years of neglect.

From the minute she stepped back on the porch, Hazel could feel her grandmother’s presence and all her childhood memories rushing back. She could feel it all in the air around her.

She decided to renovate the inn to its former glory, fixing what was broken and treasuring what was worth saving, while using eco-friendly resources to give back to nature that had nourished her childhood so well.

And in this she had found help. As if sent along deliberately by a higher force to remind her of all that she had forgotten so abruptly growing up.

Roger was a man who returned to his roots when he discovered that fixing old things helped him restore the broken parts of his soul.

It was inevitable that they would fall in love.

The inn brought them together into constructing a dream home they never knew they shared.

They kept its former name: “The Inn of Hearts”.

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