Powerless

Once again I am left powerless as word of your pain reaches me, miles away. My tongue left dumb as I try comforting you. My arms useless to shield you from the pain. All that is left for me is the thought of what you are going through.

It is as if manacles have been chained to my hands and feet, invisibly pulling me down. Every step becomes a mile. I feel my strength leaving me as I struggle ever more to get to you, a journey as hopeless as it is necessary. I already can feel it killing me.

What am I to do? Such a burden on my shoulders can not be simply cast off as I would a cloak. Neither is it a cross that I must carry upon myself for its origin is not mine. It is simply something I choose to carry in hopes of helping you someday.

Speechless, I cannot free you from the demons tormenting you. I wish I know what magical words can make this all go away, yet sadly there is none that exists. I can only listen and share the pain you hold inside. Please. Please. Please get better.

My nth Life

A life of one cannot be contained to a single existing memory. I live this life behind glass windows and yet it is this life that others too live and experience. A single event can weave several memories, each one unique yet the same. 

The lights glowed from the Christmas tree, the smell of steak filled the air and Christmas tunes were playing on the stereo, giving the perfect feel of Christmas. It served as a great Christmas dinner among friends. Here problems were forgotten, past pains swept underneath the rug, all to enjoy this one night of wonder.

Through my eyes, the party unfolded. Yet stories were not told, not all corners were explored, not all eyes see what I see. What about the shy girl who nobody seemed to notice? Or the cute girl with braces that somebody couldn't stop talking with. Or the father watching over his son, making sure that things would not go out of hand.

She could have been somewhere else, her mind wandering away from the droning on of guys and their games, unaware of the laughter brewing from the other room or the moon shining brighter then it has ever before.

She could have been enjoying the night, laughing and talking with this interesting new guy. She does not notice that he struggles to keep the conversation from dying, nor does she notice other people. She sees only herself, the life of the party who holds in her hand the heart of many.

He is proud of himself, raising a fine son, seeing him with his friends gives him a sense of appreciation of his parenting skills. His son seems to have an interest in a girl and does not notice his other friend, separated from the group of people and standing in the corner by herself. 

One night, all in the same house, yet events weave through the different eyes of those present. The life from my eyes are simply mine. Though in the eyes of others, my life pops up again. Yet this time it is different, seen through another and yet the same. It is my other life, my second and third and fourth and fifth to the googleplex of my lives. Where I will live on in their memories. 

Carpenter Joe

I believe that in life people spend most of their lives either as a carpenter or as a demolisher. We may be teachers teaching at Southridge, doctors saving lives in a hospital or even a priest giving confession to a sinner. But our profession never ends at mere jobs, since birth we have been already working.

A little kid in a candy shop would be afraid of a looming sales lady looking only to make a sale. In the same sense would a teenage boy be reluctant to approach a cute girl in a party. Or would a 60 year old widow accept a new man in her life to take care of her.

These are the carpenters who spend their time building walls. It is not that hard, mix in a little gravel of shyness, quick drying bad-experiences cement and some good old water and huwala! You got yourself some rock hard cement which over time piles up to form walls, high and mighty walls of cement that block out the sun's warmth. These walls around you come at all directions and rarely are there cracks to be found between the cement blocks.

Demolishers on the other hand spend their time differently but are ultimately, a harder profession then the carpenters. 

A perfect example of a demolisher would be a best friend who would always be there for you would show you the world and slowly you trust more in him. He would show you the right way and veer you from straying afar. When all is wrong and nothing is right. When it seems like everyone has abandoned you, he would be there. He would listen when you can't hear yourself. He would care when you give up on yourself. He would save you when you yourself find life not worth saving. 

Demolishers are armed with their wrecking balls of friendship and sledge hammers of open-ness they heart to their jobs and would break down the surrounding walls built by carpenters. Some may stumble upon a wall and unknowingly free the carpenter behind the wall while some can not stand seeming the walls and would break it down. They would be the ones to show you what you are missing.

A lot of us can be both demolishers and carpenters. Both seeking to free yet hiding behind walls. Giving advice when you yourself do not listen. 

Majority of us do not know of these things and live lives building walls unaware of slowly separating ourselves from the rest of society. Though there is nothing wrong with this, so much more can come out if there were no walls blocking you from reaching your full saturation.

I am a carpenter. What are you?