“Men willingly believe what they wish” – Julius Ceaser

It is a thought but more.
It is a wish but more.

An intense frequency the soul emits, an unspoken power. 
Spun out of a decision and groomed by imagination, it lives.

From the depth of a desire to the height of thought, it thrives.
It’s never one word or a phrase, yet it reveals things. Stirring the heart of its bearer towards the direction of their highest thought pattern, it knows no bias.

They said, throw them in the mash of existence, spray light blue above and lay a brown solid beneath, let it fallow, then give them thoughts.

Thoughts of light, dark and grey.

When it is 6 pm sharp, Ronald walks out of the office and stands on the pavement. Close to the highway where he waits for a bus. There where he stands, he observes a series of conspicuous cars, stringing his neck along as they run past. Next, he’d say, “I hate standing here every day, I need a car.
There, he questions how it is that other people make such money. Thenhe shakes his head saying, “e … be like say, they don’t put their hand for something.” 

Most evenings he stands there watching the cars drive past and not one time does he chose what he wants, he simply observes. Perhaps too timid to voice out his expectations. When he did choose, it was a raggedy old car. A believable choice, one he can afford when he saves enough. He would say, “If I save enough, I can get this one.”

Expectations are usually opposed by reality. The conflict between the convenience of seeing what is, as what is and the negligence of knowing what is, was what was. 

Logic is a dense cloud, bursting with dates, facts and predictions. Logic has a silly way of blending with limitations. That is the grey. 

Grey is logic. The mesh of the light and the dark. 

Not quite certain but hopeful. Expectant but not believing. Here, trust sits as a table with wobbly feet. But why would a human that lies to self to trick self, trust in self?

Anna feels big. Big to her is a body wrapped in more flesh than bones. Not that labels should be definite, yet she accepts a label. She lives in the glory of food and everything in-between. But that isn’t the con.
The joke is, she says,” I do not care. I’m scattered like that. I just began wearing lipstick. I should lose some weight, how else can I attract a man?
Words, mere words drawn from within that exposes her beliefs about men, love and beauty. Perhapsshe silently zones herself from any “eligible” man because somewhere in her mind she assumes she doesn’t deserve love unless she looks a certain way. So, though she desires it, she repels it.

Dark is dark; blackness, no colour, lifeless and silent. 
Thoroughly taught and well dreaded. 

I once overheard someone say, “I’m strong.” When she was asked how she felt. It turned outshe was ill. I asked her if she believed she was strong and her silence made me understand that she merely liked the word and the idea. We tend to like the idea of having the things we want or being the people we would like to become, but we don’t quite believe we can. 

Words and beliefs are distinct, they could work together sometimes. We’re cautious with words that describe ills and death, we’ve been taught to. 

Satan must do a lot; everyone accuses him. Yet, not once have I seen Satan coil tongues, who knows? 

This is dark:
The shadow that detains you at 3 am with a weighty heart soaked in doubt and worry. 
That daunting regret from sin committed two minutes or twenty years ago.
The comforting arms of blame.
The mushy spot where envy hugs ego at the sight of another’s victory. 
The words and labels accepted as valid of what everyone else observes about you.

The cynical judgement that stems from a self-imposed righteous state.
Dark is easy, humans relate well to it. 

There are days I know too well to smile first or throw in a compliment and be kind. By choice, I’d rather pass a discerning look. It’s no mood; it’s just easier. 

Light is brilliant. 
Clear, white, shiny light.

The light we know is the bolt of lightning that strikes on a stormy night. We appeal more to the swift flash. If it lasts too long and gets too brightwe shut our eyes to feel the shimmer instead. The shimmer penetrates through our eyelids, that’s what we understand. The shimmer is believable. 

Light is truth; absolute honesty with self.
Light is gratitude, grateful for things seen and things yet to come.
Light is expectancy: a heart open and eager.
Light is empathy.
Light is peace; peace in the brawl of life.
Light is being kind rather than being right.
Light is belief; the door to unlimited power.

People say life is up and down. When you’re up, expect down and when you’re down hope for up. Hope is lame. It’s like a young couple mocked for showing off their love and then told to let the years pass to see if such joy lasts. We expect the worst and then call it the reality.

Wishing is good, but never enough. It takes intention, a decision, action and belief to achieve anything worth having.

Willpower is a nice word. Take a closer look, and you’d see it’s unnecessary. We like nice things.

A decision is all that’s needed. It doesn’t matter where you are or how bad it is. Once you take a decision, everything else falls into place. Deciding not to decide is still a decision. Whatever, you decide, make sure it’s yours. 

Then, once you’ve decided on what you want to have, believe you can get it. There’s no point dilly-dallying.
Total belief is tedious unless you know who you are.

Who are you?
I still ask myself sometimes. 


Remember that what you believe will depend very much on what you are. – Noah Porter

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