God’s Will

golden-rays-through-clouds

The ghosts of oppressors past are haunting me so I have got up from my luxurious bed in an attempt to distract my school of thoughts. My tired head is rather missing the softness of my pillow yet the hamsters seem extremely chirpy to see me. Many a night they are left all alone in the dark to fend for themselves and run gleefully in their exercise wheels. Yes, the wheels do make a little bit of a racket but hey ho, they are happy.

Once upon a time, I was nicknamed sleeping beauty, for sleeping in all the time. Except, for a quite few years now, I can hardly ever sleep for nightmares and distressing thoughts. Ever since I was a young child, I have woken up in the night from some sort of terror or other. Sometimes, crying, screaming or shouting. I have oftentimes discovered a split lip or a bruised hand here and there from fighting out my dreams. My husband has described to me on numerous occasions how he had to try to calm me down.

My dreams only seem to cease when there are no triggers or reminders of the past or when I do not see my father for quite some time. Challenging times, people and memories just do not help.

I have some thinking to do but why can it not wait until I have had some quality sleep then I can be confident it is a well-made decision rather than following affairs of the heart.

Some people do not even know where exactly the heart is as I was shocked to discover a few years ago. Someone actually thought it was entirely in the left part of his or her chest‚Ķ Erm, ‚Äúno but why do you ¬†not know this if both of your parents are nurses?”¬†I questioned. I then explained how it is actually in the middle of the chest and it was the left side of the heart, which has the larger muscle so it ever so slightly comes into the left side of the chest‚Ķ They did not want to believe me. Their problem.

Not many people also know for a fact that XX or XY chromosomes is decreed by the man‚Äôs sperm yet men dare to blame the woman for not being able to produce a desired girl or boy. Females only have XX chromosomes and it is always linked down the maternal side hence the double X‚Äôs whereas the man has both the female (X) and male (Y) chromosomes making theirs XY. If women do not have the male (Y) chromosome, how else could they produce a boy? Only with the man‚Äôs “input” if you like!

It has¬†nothing at all to do with the moon either! You can try and be superstitious all you like except one‚Äôs fate is not up to you but God‚Äôs will which will be done. Just as it is God‚Äôs will that I put my fingers to the keyboard now in case one of you learns something from this particular post?! ūüėõ Que sera, sera.¬†

Sleep now beckons since I have succeeded in making myself chuckle, distracting and reminding myself the intrinsic beauty of mother nature and her designs, the predestination of all things bright and beautiful.

I now thank you, for your time and patience.

Zzzzzzz.

~ SJ (Sara Jae)

There’s No Place Like Home…

Oftentimes, I wonder where one’s home is because I have questioned myself if somewhere can really be ‘home’? As I was sent away to boarding school, ten going onto eleven years old, I lost that vital ‘homely’ and ‘family’ sense. Moreover, I do not really like to complain because…

Some people or children I dread to think do not even have a home. People here in the UK and elsewhere can be so ungrateful and inexplicably arrogant; they have a roof over their heads and free medical care. They concern themselves with having the best garment or the latest gadget when an older child overseas could be going without food for days at a time so their younger sibling does not – Their parents having passed away. It is children like them who you need to pay your respects to and be mindful of, not some sociopath looking to gain popularity to feed their ego and vanity.

Unfortunately, there is a level of such hypocrisy and ignorance amongst us also. There was a Polish family in the Valley and so there happened to be an Afghanistan family too. I scanned around me to gauge people’s reactions as I sensed an interesting moment. Most were happy to respect one another’s personal space¬†and continue as they were yet the Polish adults clearly from their body language, facial expressions and directional glances did not want this Afghanistan family sharing the same albeit very public playground as their children or their space. One of them even tried his luck to take a photo of the women as they were in their full gear. He pretended he was looking at the menu on his camera but then he felt braver and so the camera was lifted higher and higher until he felt confident enough to brazenly photograph them.

I felt fury seething away at me yet my husband held me back from standing in front of his camera to obscure any further potential frames and to prevent him from being so disrespectful Рmaking a point of his/their attitudes. How dare they take photos of another family and be racist about them when they are immigrants themselves?! The bloody cheek of them.

Once, someone from the very same vicinity told my husband, my children and I to go back where we came from… If only they knew that, I came from down the road to them. There was no way my family and I was going to keep quiet about these bullies so we complained to the local councillor and several others who at their next residents meeting had their voices heard on our behalf. They were rather embarrassed and somewhat apologised.

Many also tend to have one rule for themselves and another. I knew someone who did not want anything to do with anyone who was in a negative state of mind yet he did¬†not practise what he preached “Be kind always for you never know what that person is going through”… What another hypocrite.

One of the things about being deaf is being able to relate to how a foreigner is made to feel, since we are made to feel like outcasts also. Social cleansing happens much more than people realise.

The difference between the people of the North and the south of England is clearly diversity and tolerance. In London, anything goes – everyone is different and easily tolerated whereas in the North, most people are spoilt and do not like change.

Nevertheless, I have come to sense a certain emotion being ‘at home’ in the North East of Yorkshire. Being out in the wide open, the rolling moors, and the golden beaches of which is the surfers‚Äô paradise. Up above are birds cherishing their flight and the wind beneath their wings. Bags of Cinder Toffee testing the strength of one’s delicate teeth. The mouth-watering aroma of the traditional fish and chips, especially in Whitby… Forget Parmesan! Discovering an abundance of fossils here and there. My childhood becoming my children‚Äôs’.

The glistening in the sunlight and the relative unique sounds of the seashore reminds me how it feels to be at peace, to be in awe of Mother Nature and its designs. Trivial issues be it political or personal and wealth turn ever more meaningless. The meaning of Life is clear.

However, Italy and North Africa is also in my blood so it is only natural that I feel a certain connection to these places and their cultures. Ever since I was a child growing up in the UK, I have never felt at home or accepted, not even, for who I am. How could I ever feel “at home” amongst all the conflicting angst being imposed upon myself?

As the delight in my children’s faces matches that in my heart, I know that as long as we have one another, I determine that I will be ‘home’… For ‘home’ is where my¬†heart is.

~ SJ (Sara Jae)