Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Journey of Self Discovery

By Mathiba Len Molefe

Journey of Self Discovery

Everything I see seems to hold some untold significance in my life, be it pivotal or negligible I know not, but as I try piece together the pieces of the broken image that is said to so accurately illustrate my life, it dawns on me that those fragments that I donned unnecessary to recollect, in their absence, leave a gaping hole that so often spells misfortune. If only I had chosen to see their importance, then hindsight would not be such a painful experience. Often these seemingly unnecessary parts of what we perceive go unnoticed or are simply put aside and seldom do we attempt to see things at more than just face value. Seldom do we opt to venture into the murky waters of the unknown, instead we postulate and speculate as to what could be and don’t strive to discover what is. We base our perceptions on what was or was thought to be it but don’t take into consideration the possibility that what our predecessors tell us is fact may only be opinion or their own unclear or misguided perception. One cannot sum up the impact that certain events have on certain people if they themselves have not tread that same winding road but have knowledge only of the beginning and the end and no knowledge of what lies between these two points. Take for granted the fact that just going to it can never amount to going through it. One must live his lessons to the fullest instead of trying to leave them behind as you move on only to circle back time and time again to where that lesson beckons.

Ramblings of the Self-Conscious

I have views, views that I so seldom express, views that I supress unless I’m given reason to or put under duress, views that are viewed as abrasive, invasive and often not very persuasive, I have no reason to fear letting them hear what I see, how I see and I see why. Yet I do. Branded by the hot iron of society as a misfit, unfit to rub shoulders with the social elite. I fear that in my quest to fit in I lose myself, engulfed by the garb and mannerism that feel so alien to me, yet my fa├žade projects an image of comfort to protect me from those prying and scrutinising eyes that look to uncover the lies that hide my true guise, squeezed into the uncomfortable dimensions that are the norms that dictate swag from whack, fact from smack spoken by those in the public eye who claim to lead lives that are way beyond their means. Depicted as unreal is the real, spoken as truth is the fabrication of truth. The twisting of words builds tension within the speaker’s own tongue as it intertwines with the lashings that hold your true essence down. Your own mind leads you in a direction that your soul wishes not to follow. Torn between the two of you, the two versions of you squabbling and bickering over matters of little importance and impotence. Truly pivotal decisions cast aside for a time where it will be too late, when fate becomes irate and cast you aside in the same manner. I wonder while I wander through squalor and remains of squandered opportunities. I follow the beaten path knowing not whether beat by feet of slaves headed to their graves or by the fortified souls of boots worn by conquerors in haste to lay waste to any they come across. Mindless ramblings….?
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