Lost.

I was looking for the food court but ended up getting lost – found myself on this ‘bridge’ that connects the mall to the Michelangelo Hotel.

The art piece hanging on the glass ceiling reminded me of these wind charms I used to be obsessed with at some point. My friends and I used to buy them for each other as birthday gifts.

So I stare up at the art piece, snap a picture, and follow my two friends back into the mall.

Walking past Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Cartier and many other expensive designer shops I’d never dream of seeing during my lunch break. I’ve never been in the presence of so many diamonds and jewels. It’s is said that Sandton is the richest square mile in Africa.

I guess getting lost can be exactly what we need some times.

🙂

Resilience.

Isn’t it intriguing how language can have such a great effect on us?

And how our minds can process certain emotions in pictures and interpret what we see for us, on an emotional level.

This photo somehow made me think of the word ‘Resilience’. She, along with four other ladies, were cooking in this room that didn’t have a roof. It’s was just so interesting to experience it with them. So familiar. The feeling of women talking, mothers. It made me miss my mum in that moment.

I’m pretty sure you interpret it differently too. But when I explain myself, you get it. Right?

At different junctures in my persona, I find myself gravitating towards certain words.

Recently it’s been resilience.

Resilience.

At times it’s joy. Love. Strength. Beauty. Intellect. Class.

I repeat these words to myself as reminders – affirmations – whenever I get a moment of presence. They seem to be distant these days so whenever I do get one, I hold onto it as long as I can.

I enjoy the walks home from the bus stop. How the trees look when they catch the security light in their leaves.

I’ve noticed they’ve been blooming a bit more. There’s this scanty bush that has these fragrant little white flowers that fill up the entire area with a sweet, soft scent of a million flowers.

Like perfume.

Yesterday I picked one and put it in my hair.

Tonight, I’m exhausted. But extremely grateful. I want to push harder. I want to be better.

I want to be great.

breaking the silence

“Why Aren’t You Smiling?

You’ve gotta keep going.” – Jhene Aiko – W. A. Y. S.

 

Hills

My previous post is dated 27th May 2017, which is more than a month ago.

Much has happened, and yet things are pretty much the same still.

I’m growing. Still dreaming big and audaciously.

I took the month off to focus on fasting and prayer during the Holy month of Ramadhan, and it was really good for my soul. I even deactivated my Instagram account for a week, hah. There was a sense of calm that just filled my soul that even in times of distress I felt really close to my Creator. Like He could hear me when I’d ask Him to show me a way, and I really miss that.

I always question my purpose on this earth, and as each day goes by that yearning builds up. Almost like how you try to recall someone’s name – it’s on the tip of your tongue and swishing about in your brain – but you just can’t grasp it yet.

I meant it when I said I was elated for the BAKE Awards nomination. I wasn’t very honest when I said I was okay with not winning. You see the thing is, I felt like I was so close. That maybe this was my big break. Or just a victory I really wanted, you know? And when it didn’t happen, well, I guess I sort of had to reconfigure my strategy, which I’ve come to realize always seems to keep changing.

I find myself wondering and searching for a special solution that will make all my dreams come true, ignoring the fact that this ‘searching’ takes away the joy from the present. Always chasing, searching, yearning, forgetting to be present. To be grateful for what is, for the now. And to stop comparing, or setting time limits for my achievements because everyone’s journey and life purpose is different. The important thing is that I’m trying. I’m getting started. And even in moments when I’m weak, scared or feel like I’ve failed, I get up and march on.

Still marching.

Lots of love,

Fatma.