Unsettling Straits.

A fortnight now, perhaps the least of expected steps he's ever taken; means a ton to him. A reset.

He'd watch the skies for a sign, he saw the sparrows skim beneath the hot summer breeze; unrelenting heat waves bearing down on forlorn pieces shattered by man and time.

Today is that day he decided to take stock; not of the time, but of the weight that it imbues. His shoulders set straight, a vast sea of unknowns lies before him, it's a familiar but far off feeling.. Everything is working like a cog, familiar feels. Takes the mind of the edge.

He has a permanent recollection of what the past has done to him; he's learned that, acceptance comes from within.. the bit where one is left on their own, to fend for themselves albeit with a watchful eye hovering above every step he makes.

He believes, he yawns... Time's not been kind.

Unsettled but definitely at peace. What was spoken in ages gone by, so be it. Acceptance.

Finding joy, finding peace, gaining perspective and mostly rising from the ashes.

A reset. He won't forget. You swooped in at the crack of dawn, and stole an ancient blessing. Then backed out. It will hit home: One day at a time.

In his mind, Michael Holloway Belts a piece called The Forlorn Heart

Alone in the company of myself

How the walls seem ghostly quiet

Thoughts drift to a romance broken

The girl that never was or could not be

Stay my tongue lest I speak ill of love

The words of a broken heart are fierce

And sharp as any blade ever known

Cutting into the depths of the soul

The silence of the night haunting

And I alone mourn my own heart

What love, what girl I shall not name

For it pains to speak such words

And these walls, empty as they are

Have become my tomb, farewell love

Alone with a broken heart I yield

That which I was never to know

Were I a greater man than I

How would my own company stand

Would I know it alone at all

Would I know these ghostly walls

As I know too well my heart

My loves sad quiet demise

The forlorn heart exists

Where there is only myself and I

A subscript of an equation that is not collectively exhaustive. Time tells many Tells.

Memoirs #1 of Peszt.

Comments

Intentionality.

For starters, happy new year. I have been mulling on doing a piece on intentionality for a while and, for sure, I have mentioned a bit of it to those that I have struck deeper notes of life with. Well, in brief, intentionality is a philosophical concept that refers to the capacity of the mind to be directed toward an object, idea, or state of affairs. It is a fundamental aspect of consciousness, enabling individuals to have thoughts about something, engage in purposeful actions, and maintain focus on specific goals or outcomes. Originating from the work of philosopher Franz Brentano in the 19th century, intentionality distinguishes mental phenomena from physical phenomena by highlighting the inherent directedness or "aboutness" of mental states. In everyday life, intentionality manifests in our ability to plan, deliberate, and navigate complex social interactions, as it involves both conscious and unconscious mental processes that guide behaviours and decision-making. In tha...

Learning the ropes.

A reset is something that hits you when you least expect it. Just like sickness, it knocks at your door at odd hours, bringing with it a period of great adjustments and shifts. A bit of a background story, a couple of weeks ago, I was reading an anecdote by Norman Vincent Peale (the father of positive thinking) where the author posits that one should change their thoughts if they wish to change the world. This got me thinking; all those instances where I have seen people on the streets or in restaurants in seemingly boisterous conversations and showing broad smiles unassumingly made me think that they might be living life happier than mine. I assumed that they were happier than me or even smarter than me. Instances are rife where we sit in our little apartments imagining what it would be like to be someone else. That feeling that we often behold that everyone around you seems to be doing better than you, or the one where we feel that piles upon piles of decks are stack...

Home: A Realm Within

Perhaps today is not the day for memoirs, but a little churn and a twist from the norm. Today, I write about home—a place we often go back to at the end of a rough or a jolly good day. A home is not just a place, but a realm within us. A space where we find peace, contentment, and joy. Home is the scent of familiar spices wafting from the kitchen, the creak of a well-trodden wooden floor, the soft hum of voices that know our stories without needing to ask. It is the quiet sanctuary after a long day, the laughter echoing in the corridors of memory, the warmth of a beloved presence, even when miles apart. It is not confined to four walls and a roof, nor is it defined by the grandeur of its architecture. But home is also change. It is the bittersweet moment of packing up childhood belongings, leaving behind walls that once echoed with our growing pains. It is the ache of longing when we search for traces of what was, only to find that time has repainted the doors and rearranged the furnit...

Random Stirrings of The Mind.

Search This Blog