Fissures happen. The're painful. And sometimes they seem like canyons rather tan cracks. Sometimes you can't fix them. But sometimes you can. And sometimes they'll fix themselves, and you aren't always meant to be the only bit of glue holdig everyting.
“I feel that God made my body perfect the way I was born. Then man robbed me, took away my power, and left me a cripple. My womanhood was stolen. If God had wanted those body parts missing, why did he create them? I just pray that one day no woman will have to experience this pain. It will become a thing of the past. People will say "Did you hear, female genital mutilation has been outlawed in Somalia?" Then the next country, and the next, and so on, until the world is safe for all women. What a happy day that will be, and that's what I'm working toward. In'shallah, if God is willing, it will happen.
But the world is full of zanies and fools who don't believe in sensible rules and won't believe what sensible people say and because these daft and dewey eyed dopes keep building up impossible hopes impossible things are happening every day
My teacher used to say, "Stay in beginner's mind. Never leave beginner's mind," because in beginner's mind, the possibilities are infinite. They're open. Anything can happen. You're open to learn anything you need to learn. If your view of something needs to change, you're open for it to change. No matter how deeply you have seen something, no matter how much you think you know something, stay in beginner's mind. Don't get rigid. No matter how great a revelation you may have had, no matter how great an opening in the core and depth of your being, if you stay in innocence, in the mind that's very light, that never takes its ideas as truth, then there will be a much greater potential for your thoughts, as well as your communications with others, to be naturally inspired.
Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You made me so happy. I don’t want you to be lost or afraid or anything like that. From here on out, I know things might be hard sometimes. But no matter what, please don’t ever regret the time we spent together.
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.