Letter to a Lover

I found this letter on a chat site no less. I found it to be so profound, so moving, so poignant and so sweet. I knew I had to post it into my blog. The writer wished to remain anonymous, but agreed to let me post it. The note is made out to a lover he never found, the lover he has pictured, but has simply never seen, a lover he often listens to, but has strangely never heard, a lover only found in dreams and in this letter's words:

You want to get to know me...

Because you like to put your feet on my coffee table.
Because I love Cape Town in the winter... and you don't mind.
Because I understand your needs.
Because I trust your instincts.
Because of coffee and chocolate and ice-cream.
Because you borrow my shirts.
Because you know when to bite your tongue.
Because you enjoy our meaningless conversations late at night in bed.
Because you can't wait to hear what I think.
Because your family comes first.
Because you know my favourite song.
Because we both cheer for the underdog.
Because you taught me how.
Because I like hands that are bigger than mine.
Because Paris is just ours.
Because you choose me.
Because you never walk away from a problem.
Because you wrote the softest things on my back when I was falling asleep.
Because I had never been before you...

- I read it late one night, and simply felt inspired. I hope the words can move you too...

To Face or Fear

A thought of fear
Is like a wind
Deep in the dessert
That begins bellowing
Raising dust
And raising sand
It turns to a storm
Against a man
For no man can stand
The dessert storm
The swirling winds
That shade the dawn
Can tear the flesh
Clean from your bones
Pull down strongholds
Made of stone
Dry up the lakes
Uproot the trees
Spread fowl pestilence
And disease
Smiting all
Within its wake
Move the earth
Just like a quake
Till all that’s left
Is the howling wind
The deadly Siren
And the song she sings
But like the rock
Upon which she stands
I will stay grounded
Deep in the sand
Let wave and song
Crash against my might
Still I remain
Within her sight
And when the storm
And song are done
Here I remain
The only one
So let fear come
And let it pass
I will remain
To face the task
I will remain
Beyond the fear
I will remain
I will remain

By Jody Kolbee (Me)

Little Boxes - Part 2

Now it turns out I'm not the only one without a little box. The journey of boxes is a pilgrimage undertaken by millions and billions of people each and every day. One would think that by now a common journey like this, traveled by so many people, would have carved deep trenches into the earth due to all the traffic going back and forth, back and forth, along the same paths over and over. Similar to grassy plains, where the lush green grass of the earth simply gives way to the many footprints that tread upon it, day after day, up and down, with all of its heavy burdens, trying to find an end to its journey. But the truth is, the paths are never the same. In fact many times the paths may cross each other, overlapping, one on top of the other, layer over layer, in many directions, but simply...never...the same.

And if you're wondering of it is even remotely possible to simply stop at an intersection of paths and layers, and to decide to merely walk along the path of another, then the answer, regrettably, is yes. But walking along the path of someone else's journey is never an easy road. If anything, it only makes your journey even longer, and sometimes even worse than the road you've already been travelling. Think about it...you know how long you've traveled, and you know how many bumps and snags you've hit along your road. So...would you really advise someone else to take it? Then what makes you think that anybody else would have a road much smoother than yours? A saying once went like this..."Every man thinks his burden is the heaviest."...And if this is so, then does that not imply that every man has a burden. Yes, in some way or another, the implication is true. Then that leaves only one thought in mind...are you willing to abandon your path, in the hopes that another, though very rigid and bumpy, will simply be less bumpy than yours?

And so I have learned the unmistakable truth. That I am not the only one without a box. If I was, there wouldn't be so many roads and footprints left on abandoned journeys all over the world. There would simply be one path, in one direction and one set of footprints left in the sand. But for now...my journey continues, along my own path, at my own pace, in my own direction, signed by my own footprints, not for anyone else...just for me.

Little Boxes - Part 1

It's funny isn't it? When someone asks you a simple question, and for the life of you you cannot understand why it is that you find it so difficult to give a simple answer, especially when the question is about a really easy topic...you. I encountered a very unusual question the other night, completely unexpected, completely simple, completely complicated...yet simply incomplete.

The conversation started easy enough: "You look good. You look different. How have you been?" You know...the usual type of questions from someone close to you who you haven't seen in a while. But then the conversation took a horrible turn down an unending road, filled with discomfort, confusion and worse of all...it ended in a question. The question: "So let's be honest, it's just you and me. Who are you...really?"

Yes...the worst type of question anyone could have asked me. Especially when one considers the fact that I myself did not know the answer to the question. So for a while I sat and thought about it...all night in fact. And I found myself asking myself another really bad question: "Who am I supposed to be?". So I thought to myself. You know those little boxes, the ones you can't really see, and yet the ones that are the most visible when you find yourself looking for one. They're the boxes nobody talks about, and the ones that everyone wants. They're the boxes we're supposed to fit into in order to have a greater understanding about who we are, and how we relate to other people.

So now I'm sitting with the biggest dilemma ever...Out of all the pretty boxes. Millions and billions of them. For some reason I can't find a single one that I am meant to fit into. It would be easier if they were labeled a bit better, and if the shapes and sizes weren't so specific. But no...not a single little box that's just right for me. Am I the only person without a little box?

The Wheel That Turns

Who ever invented the term "the wheel keeps turning", and why do we say it every time something goes wrong, or someone does something wrong to someone who didn't deserve it, especially us!? What the hell has the 'wheel' got to do with anything!? Has anyone ever thought of simply stopping the wheel and doing something about the problem right there and then? Why wait for the same snag in a wheel to serve justice, when we can bring down the gavel ourselves? After all, should we not be the ones running our own lives?

Now all of this may be true, however, sometimes the system just doesn't work that way does it...No it doesn't. When something bad happens in your life, or someone wrongs you, sometimes you simply just have to walk on by. While confrontation may solve the problem, too often it simply makes matters worse. Like justice...the point of justice is that it gets served one way or the other, otherwise taking the ideals of justice and applying it with our own hands is not called justice at all - it should then be called punishment. And the point of punishment is that it can be dished out to anyone, even the innocent, and generally has a limit set upon it. Either the sustainability of the punishment is not very lasting, or the mortality of the punisher soon becomes apparent. No, true justice is everlasting, and deals itself unto it's own guilty. And therefore can only be dealt by Justice herself, and so judged by a jury of the Fates and ones own conscience. But eventually, it does, one way or the other, get served.

However, there are times where we must place ourselves into the position of being vessels of Justice, and must act as its righteous hand. Because sometimes, yes sometimes, some people do not deserve to walk the slow road of Time and Fate, and must be dealt with sooner rather than later. It was recently that I learned - that every now and then, the 'wheel' must be forced to turn, and that those who are truly guilty and undeserving of the grace of Justice, must be shoved right under that wheel and be served a different type of justice - yes, sometimes people must be punished...

After all, even if we are wrong, the wheel as I am told, will simply...keep...turning.

The Simple Gift

Tricky thing, the wrapping of a gift. The art of wrapping something simple, has become somewhat of an art these days, and lot of thought goes into it, and has lately become an expensive matter. It's funny how people don't really care about what's inside anymore, we're more concerned about the wrapping. But often we can fool ourselves when accepting gifts, thinking only of the tinsel and not about the toy. If we just bothered to open our eyes and notice the gift lying far in the corner of the room, in the cold comfort of the shadows, and the dark crevices of neglect, that's where the best gifts are found, not wrapped in the best way and with the cheapest of wrapping.

Today, I found a simple gift, and one of great intrigue. Particularly this gift had been neglected for so long, it had eventually lost hope of being noticed altogether. But I learnt something from this gift, and that is, we have the power to wrap these gifts in either a good way or a bad way, simply by the power of our own words. Speak down to a person for long enough, and eventually that's where they'll place themselves. So I started peeling away the ugly wrapping, and got to have a peak at the gift inside, and I found something truly special. A warm heart, and a good ear to listen.

As I said, often the simplest of gifts are the best ones to be had. After all, the song says: "It's a gift to be simple, it's a gift to be free. It's a gift to come down where you ought to be. And when we find ourselves in the place just right, we'll be in the valley of Love and Delight." So the next time you find yourself presented with a gift, take the time to peel back the wrapping, and hopefully you'll find something wonderful.

The Pouring Rain

If there's one thing that I've learned in life, it's that with the arrival of clouds comes the pouring of rain. And that when the rains comes pouring down, the results can go either way. The oldest ideas of rain paint refreshing pictures in your mind of great cleansing and deep relief. Because the idea of rain, is that it comes when the time is just right, and arrives when the environment is suitable and the land yearns for the drink of its sublime, refreshing taste.

But the coming rain can sometimes bring with it a powerful storm, mighty enough to bring down strong towers and lay waste to the land. For with the coming rain can come the perilous flood, washing everything in its wake clean away. Today that storm arrived in my life, completely unexpected, and certainly at the worst possible time. Then again, I suppose the environment was certainly suitable, and the dry doldrum of a busy schedule may have been beckoning for a bit of drama in my life. The worst storms are the ones that meet, the ones that come from two completely opposite directions of the land and come together in a great, big clash of thunder and lightning.

Two very good friends of mine were arriving in the country today, completely unexpected, and neither one of them knowing of the other's arrival. Both having left for mutual reasons, and now both having arrived for the same. For now we'll call them Kate and Sue. They were both very good friends until Kate decided to become very good friends with Sue's ex-boyfriend. After discovering the spark, Sue then pursued to ignite the old flame between herself and the ex. Needless to say both sparks ignited at the same time, and resulted in both of them leaving the country the first time. Now they came back and both contacted me for coffee, which reluctantly I agreed to. Now it was all worked out perfectly, according to me. I was to see Kate on Saturday morning, and Sue in the afternoon. Tip: Never trust the weather channel - they lied to me!

I could have predicted how well things could have gone, right down to the sunshine or showers. But here's the thing about a coming storm, they can change in an instant when the wind suddenly decides to blow a different way, which is what Kate did. She couldn't make the morning appointment and called my assistant to reschedule. My assistant who then checked the schedule and told her that I already had an appointment with Sue. Kate called Sue to find out if it were true, and to find out why I never told either one about the other. So between themselves they tried negotiating which of the two would get the afternoon appointment with me. I suppose it's pointless saying that neither one would give in, so guess what? The next phone call was to me - from both of them. After a huge disagreement with both, I decided to call them in for coffee at the same time. After the awkward silence and the childish sneers and comments, I explained that they are my best friends and that nothing in the whole world was seriously worth losing a friendship over. So now Saturday is on...with all three of us.

As I said...with the coming rain it can go either way. Either the storm will come and tear down everything, or the polite showers will simply water down a dry and thirsty land. But one thing you can bet on, is that when the storm has passed and the rain is gone, the sun will come, and the land will once again be refreshed. That all the dirt and the grime will be washed away, making way for new growth and a few extraordinary things.

The Wall

It's a strange thing, a wall, and the purposes they serve. Some walls are built to keep things out, while others are there to trap things inside. But the most dangerous of walls are the ones that are built without any purpose in mind at all. Like cracks, cutting through the horizon, or scars ripped across a plain. So one has to wonder - why do we build these walls at all?

I find myself being the victim of a wall. A wall trapping all the hurt and pain of my life inside, a wall keeping anyone who loves me out, and yes, a wall that seems to have lost its purpose altogether. How is it that an inanimate object, such as a wall, can lose its purpose? That something so plain can be so powerful and yet so fragile at the same time. I suppose the worst part of it all is the fact that the architect, designed this wall to be impenetrable. I've tried breaking it down, believe me, but the builders have simply made it out of a material beyond any human invention.

I've heard that water is supposed to be a powerful element against stone. That eventually the rain will wash mountains into the sea, and that the running river carved deep gashes into a valley and proclaimed itself a canyon. They say eventually the great tides of the sea will swallow the might of the land, like Atlantis that sank to the deep trenches of the ocean, into an abyss, never to be seen again. But I've shed rivers and oceans of tears that have crashed against the might of the wall, only to find that the towering stone still remains intact. And now my water has run dry, and I have no more tears to shed. My heart has turned to stone, and I don't know what else to do.

They say that in time the fury of the wind will cause mountains to crumble into the land and eventually wither away, dissolving into dust. They say that mighty gale forces can destroy whole cities, and that the hurricanes of the sea can level high towers reaching for heaven, bringing them right down to the depths of the earth. But I've screamed all my life, and my fury is worn, my voice is breaking and the whispers left behind within me have all grown silent and died. And still...it remains. The great and powerful wall.

Now I have nothing left within me that may even come close to scratching the wall. The wall once built for a purpose long forgotten remains, and my purpose has all but drifted away. For the life of me I do not understand why it was built and why it remains. But this I know, it must come down, and maybe some day - some way I'll bring it down crumbling. I know I can do it. I have to do it. After all...the person who built it...was me.