Tuesday, 30 September 2014


There aren't enough lessons on perceptions in life. Whatever background or belief one has, there is always talk of a set of elders of wisdom. The ones that whatever they may call it, have gained awareness and understood what perception is. A lot of people are victims of their limitations. As a new born baby one opens their eyes and they are a being that has the possibility to go in any direction in whichever speed they want to. But the limitations that grow like a tumour over the years are what determine who we become and what further knowledge we take in. Forgetting that we are the masters and knowledge without us would seize to exist. the question then that stands is how much does what we take in and act upon control us? And how far does the manipulation of the self go to lead us down the road of destruction?
Yes many, and myself included at one point in my life, would argue some things are out of ones hands. The age old 'nature v nurture' battles continues. In that equation modern day psychology doesn't take into account the "self". Look at a child, their happiness and the constant questions to understand the universe doesn't have an attachment. They have no limitations, no regrets nor make mistakes but gather lessons. Until they finally surrender to the "written rules" of society, surrendering to this then lead to their limitations and due to their agreement cap the selves. This is where the ' I had no choice, my options were limited so I ended up with the latter' come into play. Easily we surrender to becoming a product of our environment. Too quickly we disarm, put our word down, lay our crayons aside, disassociate with the faint voice in the background. With the perception of life being one hard battlefield, a booby trap, a obstacle course. So easily we forget the beauty of innocence and purity we carry within. A product of our environment we become. I am the child of a child of colonialism. I am a child of civil war. I am a child that grew up where I didn't belong. As children of civil war the traditions begin to water down.  a product of civil war identity withers. Forever in conflict my brothers and sisters grow up. We believe there was a way, there must be a way, at best. Or surrender to there demons around. Become a product by design. Becoming the demons. Feeding the demon within. Marry to escape the difficulties at home, a lifeless wedding. Never really knowing what marriage is. Join a gang for a sense of belonging, because the boy Hooyo wants he never saw in abo. The concept of the head of the household, the hunter gatherer being wiped. Your entire purpose is then wiped. There has to be a way to ease the pain? Timing out is an option, far too rosy like the greener grass at the neighbours house across the road. Let's drink sweet tea, bite on bitter leaves and discuss politics which is a puzzle that is a great fantasy to discuss. We will solve problems of our land with the neighbours rules and regulations. Let them lead by example, not taking into account the hell hole the 1% has created them. Blindly following like sheep. The sheep I seen on the streets of hargeisa, munching on plastic bags content as anything. Forgetting the cardinal rule of charity begins at home. You can't expect a fish to climb the tree that the monkey climbs, as you can't expect the monkey to swim with such grace. Let's not bare heed to the old ancient practices that descended down from your ancestors that taught you what a man is.

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