First hit… Memories of shame

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I am always trying to ponder inner realities that exist within me. Coming to terms with what they are conveying.., I perhaps to write to understand what I feel so powerfully within me.., I write to share my side of the fence.., I write to live.., I write because I am in love with words, stories, prose, beauty, literature and secrets and feel compelled to treasure this gift of gab. I believe that a writer is someone whose soul can see past the nature of make believe outer reality, and into the real heart of things.

I can’t understand what is happening in my heart.., but I feel a tremendous heaviness on it right now. My Father and I had had our usual Saturday night conversation.., the topics varied from England dropping out of the EU to my sermon that I had just finished delivering in the church opposite to our house. He highlighted things in my sermon that were hard to take.., it was the usual criticism.., ‘repetitions, unwanted honesty, forgetfulness…’ etc.., I had to listen to my parents and their observations since they were just as sensitive as me when it comes to not realizing the brevity and reality of things. All my happiness and joy at battling intense inner fear, nervous anxiety, strain etc and then standing before young people who were so cynical, dismissive and attempted to mockingly laugh and smile at your face and delivering a message fizzled away as I listened to what he was saying.., He could be really persistent when he wished to convey truths about my sermon that I could never see…, Call me insane but.., I don’t understand criticism because I deal with my own inner insecurity.., and to heave a dose of observation right after a tremendous test was quite horrifying to me…I sometimes wish people listened with their heart and not with their mind.., but he is my dad and I love him in ways that I can’t even comprehend.., he has done so much for me.., and struggles with a burden so big.., for my sake…, I can’t help but listen to my hero…but I have to remind myself to sit alone with my Lord.., perhaps I can climb above the slab of the upper floor and be alone.., and pour my heart, my tears and my feelings to Him who truly cares…, maybe I can become sane again.

I’ve discovered that most of us are expert talkers.., but few can look beneath the layers and words and understand the heart.., and find the selflessness to love back courageously and look past our own scars, wounds and weaknesses…, True Love seems to be too easy to long for and so hard to find. I am no longer content with human love.., I demand, desire and hunger for a love that can conquer.., accept me at my absolute worst and encounter me at my most insane and still love me fiercely, ferociously and insanely.., So far I can only count Jesus in that list.., nobody else comes even close.., perhaps my parents, sis and doggy can be added after a billion kilometers.., but then again God gave them to me.., and they ask me to love God more than them.., maybe I could place them after a million kms since for the first 25 years or so they were the only reflection of God that I could see, feel and enjoy and they were incredible, amazing and otherworldly at it. I’m blessed and thankful always.

I remember not so long ago when I bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. He had been a mentor to me in my past.., but a hard, no compassion showing dictator who was relentless in his handling of me.., I was chastised often.., rebuked often.., told to study hard.., and it always felt like his methods were too extreme.., too hard and too painful for a hyper sensitive, dreamer in love with his imagination such as myself… and I could clearly see that I was nothing like him… He had built up his own empire from scratch.., he started one of the most powerful ministries during the 90’s and had been responsible for a wave of revival that had hit Vellore during that time.., all of a sudden there was a surge of meetings, revival meetings, youth meetings, Godly sightings.., Angelic Sightings.., curing of terminal illnesses such as Cancer, Aids, Tumors etc… God had touched the sun scorched soil of Vellore in centuries.., and my Ex Mentor had been in the thick of things.., He was a disciplinarian, who was a hardcore perfectionist… He had a soft side to him and I could see it work on certain people.., but he was above the pack and was always leading the charge and taking all hostages with him.

Growing up I had always struggled with feelings that I could never be good at anything. I saw people naturally blooming all around me.., and I was never good at anything…, I struggled with insecurity.., inferiority and shame.., I always dreamt of killing myself in my early years.

I was his polar opposite, ie of my Imperfect Mentor.., I was a free spirit, but I could feel too powerfully the pain of a hurting, broken world.., I was deeply hurt at the plight of the street dogs whose stomachs had shrunk and the bones of their rib cage showed real clearly.., I felt pained when I saw people throwing stones at their feet, I was hurt by the fact that dogs and human beings had to search in the trash for food…, I was hurt by how some people never had the freedoms and privileges that I enjoyed.., my heart was always reaching out to the lonely, the hurt and the broken… I disliked the life that everybody led, I wanted to live a life that I enjoyed.. the childhood version of it was to live on an island away from people and that island would have libraries, food for eternity and a world class view of the stars that I would see every single night.., I enjoyed freedom, I loved being free.., I did not like to be tied down, I always dreamt of freedom the more I found myself in systems.., I enjoyed sports.., and I had a hunger in my soul to reach for the stars.. I dreamt all day long of fame.., of fortune and of beautiful stories that I could imagine, and maybe create someday.

After the initial years of growing up next to him, my parents decided that I would do a year in my Dad’s Alma Mater – MCC.., up and until that moment I felt trapped in Vellore.., Vellore was too raw and primal.., there wasn’t class, refinement, integrity or friendliness here…, I felt nothing but inner torment, anguish and boredom in my early years.., School was a bore.., I struggled to cope up…, I was detained after classes all the time.., or I had to cross paths with stronger, more assertive seniors who used me to beef up their own credentials.., I was either a punching bag or a source of teasing and scorn.., My skin color was highlighted which made me feel ugly, unwanted and awkward.., I was never accepted by my peers for some strange reason.., most of them were the sons and daughters of either rich industrialists or doctors.., I guess I was not their type.., I felt unwanted by them .. My teachers did not exactly convey any feelings of me being embraced or celebrated either…, You remember what people don’t say to you and what people can’t see in you.., I still do to this day.., I remember feeling like I was of no use to this world and I dreamt often of death and suicide… I was an invisible person who had to live like I was different.., like I was not special and like I was of a lower species…, My language speaking skills would be highlighted often.., or my grades would be brought up.., Nobody worried for me.., they were just shoving my lack of interest in academia into my face and telling me that I was useless. The hardest part of it was to feel shame for the sake of my parents.., who I could see were such kind, gentle souls and here I was shoving a brutal reality pill into their faces because of my sensitive soul… They had worked hard to get to where they were.., my Dad had undergone tremendous trials.., losing both his parents.. moving here and there.., taking care of his sisters…, struggling to come up in his own life, and my mother came from a very poverty stricken family and had studied hard to reach the management ranks of the most prestigious hospitals in our town… I had let them down.., here they were working so hard under really hard circumstances to make something of me, and here I was just wasting it all away.., I was never considered for anything or thought to be anything.., I loved sports.., but nobody took a special interest in me.., or thought that I could amount to much.., Growing up I so badly wanted somebody to believe in me and push me in fields that I was interested in.., but sadly I had none.

Such experiences with the unkind, non grace offering parts of life made me really hunger and long for love, for empathy.., for being understood despite what was going on on the surface.., I wanted people to feel sorrow for me.., but I was confused since I saw people from even lower places than me survive, fight and live.., this further made me despise myself and made me close my mouth. I did not want to talk it out to somebody and listen to them talk about things on the surface.. Nobody had the power to perceive the depths of me.. No one.. Unless I talked about it.., and when I did.., it did not impact them in the level that it impacted me.., my inner struggles helped me listen deeply to other warriors dealing with a cruel cruel life.., late on in my life.., my wounds, scars and inner demons created an artist…, created a resource so deep for my craft.., but the same feelings that I heard in my earlier years would trickle into my heart after any accomplishment.., ‘This is not good enough..’, ‘ Is this the best that you can give..?’…, ‘ Look at him/her they seem to do it in a way that feels easier than you..’.., ‘ This felt easy.., you’ve not been really challenged yet..’.., ‘ You call this writing..? A 8 year old with no understanding can write better stuff than what you just did…’ …, and so on and so forth.

When we had moved into the colony that we are staying at right now, he was the only person who was caring enough to welcome us and to also help us ingratiate ourselves to the culture of the small island of Christian only homes that stretched down two parallel streets. He was so kind.., and took such genuine efforts to include us and make us feel welcome…, but I remember the initial awkwardness of it all.., I remember my neighbors treat my mother with disrespect as she attempted friendly conversations with them.. I could not see it in their faces but I got a hint of it in my heart.., I was offended that they could respond to my mother’s genuine smile with a calculated one, how inconsiderate were they that they offered hate for love..? And I was never wrong about them.., all those highly rude individuals always seemed to find newer ways to establish their supremacy in our lives, their facial coldness seldom seemed to still.., they were always wound up, always ready to attack and always eager to express their imaginary dominance… and I am a really objective guy.., but I have always abstained from those who don’t welcome… I believe that it all comes down to early experiences. I have always struggled with being rejected.., I still do.., now I am a tough nut to crack.., but my heart is too soft. I am like my mom.., dedicated, personal and intense.., I used to alienate myself and rebel to gain strength briefly but I comply, conform and humble myself for the sake of the gospel these days, and the friendship of my Lord has really helped me forget those initial difficulties.

Nothing special seemed to happen to me.., nobody wanted to talk to me.., nobody seemed excited to be my friend.., nobody could really see me.., I understand it all now.., but the heart of a guy who knows and desires love but finds emptiness.., egoism and hostility can be hurt eternally. I did not get any love letters.., I was not anybody’s best friend.., I was hurt by the lack of interest.. by the indifference.. by the unkindness and chiefly by the inability to perceive one as being important, necessary, needed etc hurt me. But I guess those initial years and the senses that I absorbed have made me the person that I am today.., have helped me take on the cross for Christ’s sake.., and have created in me a hunger to find people who suffer the same silence that I did.., and perhaps lead them with the help of the Holy Spirit to the Lord Himself.

I don’t know who ends up reading this.., but I will beckon you to attempt to make the world a better place than the way you found it. I implore you to know Jesus as your personal Savior since the world can overwhelm, destroy and kill your good intentions.., but Christ can help you with His strength and power and lead you to work for the Kingdom of God.., and believe me the benefits are out of this world.

My beautiful, sweet mess – Short Poem

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How strange this desire to want, need, thirst for and crave someone…?
Tell me where can I take shelter from this obsessive pressure..?
I want to run away from this crazy heart that I possess,
Run like Joseph did from Potiphar’s wife.
Do you wanna know why..?

There is a reason I am pouring out my heart to you listener with a seeking heart,
because I am afraid for what it has done unto me in the past,
it has left marks and scars where formerly dreams used to hide.
My eyes, they don’t see colors anymore,
I am a man who now shuns his eyes.

I am afraid to desire her,
I know that I want her,
but you see, that is the problem.
I had convinced myself that I needn’t care.
I have come past ghouls and horrors that once tortured my soul.
Dreamer that I am, I suffered reality’s cruel strikes,
Demons played and wrecked a tremendous destruction upon my soul.
Dragging me even unto the gates of death.
But my curse seems to pull me into complicated situations that are full of
wreckage and mindless abandonment.

She has another,
Everything that I feel for her,
this intensity, this deep desire of my soul to possess her soul,
She feels for somebody else,
You know that I can’t bear a truth such as that,
How did I get myself into this mess..?
I am not going to psycho analyze every contact with her with my heart’s
detective lens, I know when somebody wants somebody else..,
I really really do.. It hurts like every ache in the universe
has decided to cry.

Why am I staying here, waiting in painful uncertain obliviousness..?
Why do I enjoy this stinging pain of yet another disaster..?
I believe that I enjoy being the martyr..,
I believe that I enjoy the chase, the challenge,
the thrill, and the exhilaration.
I know that I see myself as a hero in hiding, who will pounce upon whoever he believes in his heart is his princess..,
I wonder if I truly do need her..?

Surges of Brilliance – Poem

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Surges of brilliance,
unpredictable gushes of torrential clarity,
a deep thrust into the depths of whatever it is that runs within me,
crashing like splintering, waves,
sending shivers of intense emotions ,
what reality covers with mediocrity and oppressive sincerity,
The Moonbeams bring forth from the concealed
depths,leading inwardly into doors hidden beneath,
Spaces of time, what candle so brief should shudder like hips swaying to a mystic tantalizing beat..?
Stepping past the passage of self pathos, running headlong with pants of eager longing
into the meadows of art’s maddening glucose,
My heart is haunted by ghouls and rushes of psychic emotion,
Senseless Panic pulls away the soul from the abstract pathway into oblivious richness,
Invisible hands drag me down whenever I climb art’s ladder,
Fear’s demons dance around drawing me into manias of doubt,
I pay more attention to my fears than my goods,
I am a man divided and blown apart.
Too intense and too hard,
Too cold and too warm..,
I contain worlds and paradoxes within.

Casual demolition

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Feelings deceive,
It would be better if a man could never feel,
Of what use are our feelings? 
Those who feel intensely are seldom seen..!
Life has a different plan altogether,
I wish my heart could stop and focus on more important things such as my Salvation, My life and what I plan to do about staying away from Hell.
But oh no,  I have to fall into what’s of no use for me, I have to fall for people who feel not a thing for me, I have to bear this pain, this breaking sensitive possession of my heart, brain and soul that invades the essence of moi’ , and begins controlling me by subjecting me to what can never be.
I hate feeling this way,
I hate being here again,
I hate being this way…  I am so sick of ending back in this place time and time again,
I’ve had enough, I’ve been through enough,
I know when I’m not needed, my mind is easy to convince,  it’s my heart that refuses to comply and stop feeling.
In some people’s life you are a speck, in some a short affair and in others a mistake, and in the majority of the cases….  a mere stranger intruding into what has already been constructed and is alive,
I hate this lack of control, I can’t stand this demolition of my heart’s repressed wishes,
Pain creates more poets than love ever did,
Suffering far greater writers than happiness ever did.
Please stop killing me with your irresistibleness, Please cut your ties with me it’s better that way.
I can’t feel differently about you… Believe me I’ve tried, and I don’t want to be some creep that was too desperate and too enthusiastic, yeah I know how that feels like.
This is not me… I’m a silent warrior, I’m at war within…  I don’t have time for this… I got dreams to fulfill, greatness to live upto, struggles to overcome.
As much as I would love for you to feel the same way about me… I hate to beg and I hate to ask when you’re madly in love with somebody else. That’s just plain wrong. I’ve been in this situation too many times before.
So thank you for the casual demolition, I much enjoyed it… My heart’s broken and my life’s at a standstill.
I am sorry I cared, forget it…  it’s much better for me to deal with my terrific wounds and bruises.
Thank you and please don’t visit again.

Glory

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Resistance is within us,
One day the war will be won,
Until then victory will seem afar,
But for now I am called to be a hero. 

For the cross of Christ, 
I am called to war within me,
His blood lifts me to heavenly heights
Even as I battle the fiery urges of Hades within me.
I am a troubled warrior, a meek saint, a timid yet glorious weapon, I am the cause but The power of the Cross is my drug…,
It beckons me on,
I will be sure in the midst of my nerve numbing uncertainties,
I will strive to carry this torch across thousands of miles,
I have the chance to right my evils and all the wrongs committed in my own history,
I will not be defeated by the overpowering might of the darkness ,
Lord make me strong, I am your enemy, 
I need You to drag me to the finish,
I can’t do this on my own,
I serve You and You alone,
I want that Heavenly crown,  I want you to call me a hero,
The day to change is now,
I don’t ever want to ever look back, for my past and my bleeding scars are lethal,
They take my energy and defeat my faith’s heart…
Lord… I need Glory,
I need You,
Drag me to the place where your throne stands

Trouble

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Have you ever felt the cutting sting of misery..? Or felt this persistent harassment of something unseen…? Have you ever felt troubled by something right from the moment that you woke up…? Have you ever lost faith in the Lord and started to wish for a much easier path…?

I have been feeling all of these things over the past few days. No matter the depth of the previous day’s spiritual connection, each day feels like the first day of my faith and I find myself becoming spiritually affected as each day progresses. There are spiritual hurdles in the Christian life that never stop. Satan wishes to drain us emotionally and spiritually, in order for us to lose hope in God and Jesus Christ. There have been days when my cross seems to crush me, the most difficult part of the entire process is that almost all of it is mental. I find myself struggling to find the right words to describe in accuracy the details of whatever it is that I am experiencing, it is so subtle, so invisible, so unpredictable yet familiar that I find myself hurting more from perceived abandonment than from the grief itself, I find myself feeling an everpresent pressure and tension that is constantly .  I find my solid ground disappearing as I find in my personal life I am afflicted by terrible fears that I struggle to overcome. Bits of my recent failure in a public speech haunt me, bits of
nagging hurt over a friend’s comments still remind me every now and then that my passion for a sport is of no use in his high and mighty pharisiaical eyes, reminders of a young kid’s stubborn disrespectful rebelliousness aggravate the idealist within me, struggles of a writer caught up in a aesthetically dry yet spiritually fulfilling career exhausts me, reminders of all the horrific mistakes of my past tell me that I have no right to ever be happy. And on top of that a senior work colleague of mine, recently commented that the only reason I was able to help people was because of my degree in Psychology and not because it’s God’s calling for my life. I sometimes seethe with broken fury for the words uttered without careful thought and understanding. But I can’t have hard feelings about it, nobody is as understanding as the Lord is, in all my years I have rarely come across someone who wishes to listen and understand before talking. These are things that I can handle, the problem is that I feel as though God has to be sought all the time and that angers me on a deep level. I feel like I am doing my best to stick out for Him, and yet He does not speak to me like I wish for Him to. I know that in my heart of hearts that I am being very childish, but can’t a spiritual infant desire the physical presence of His spiritual Father…?

For the past few days I have had loads of people coming to me for spiritual guidance.  These are people who are willing to give up, on the surface they appear normal but in their deep heart they have had enough. I feel their despair deeply, and my heart weeps for the burdens that they have to carry.  I feel like I am crying for people whose tears have stopped and they carry on in hopeless anguish. I know that I have to more communicate warmth and understanding to the people that the Lord sends my than choosing to appear like a wise know it all.

In my own heart there are the usual voices of condemnation that are all set to make me lose faith and courage. I sometimes feel terribly insecure during the counseling process. Do I have all the answers…? What gives me the right to boldly ask people to share their problems with me..? What do I do if I don’t know the answers…? What do I do if I can’t understand what people are troubled by..? Since when have I ever been really good at anything…? But like the rose that broke past the concrete…  I know in my heart that I know, feel and grasp what they are going through in some deep, unknown way…  I just don’t believe that I am good at anything.. Ever.

But I gain hope … I can see past masks and barren plains… This is my calling…  I’m the Lord’s helper.. His humble servant…  I am here to serve Him… To serve others…  And to lean, depend upon and love Him… So I guess that I don’t have answers… But I have ny heart and passion…  I guess that in the end that is what should really matter.. Those are the only things that the Lord asks for! 

Watchers

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Who are these watchers in the sky…?
Ancient paintings in caves point to the sky,
cosmic beings who have watched the race of the human seed throughout the course of history,
A dire road leading to destruction,
Should one play the game of roulette or the game of dice…?
Is life predestined or determined by one’s choices…?
Free will or a roll of dice…?