Why Fueling Work with My Intense Passions Is My Disruptive Secret

Society doesn’t like people like me, like you.

Do you ever find yourself caught in the worry that your diverse passions could lead to confusion in people around you? Your audience, even? Maybe, like myself, you’re concerned that this could even endanger the success of your business because you’re scattered all over the place. We are squiggly lines, and society likes straight, linear individuals. 

However, I dived into the heart of these concerns and explored why embracing my faceted nature is the key to unlocking unparalleled success, both in life and business.

A neon sign that reads “Fuel Your Passion” in semi-cursive script
(Image courtesy of Randalyn Hill via Unsplash)

I started thinking back and reflecting on all those instances where I’ve come across individuals I deeply admire. Have I ever been put off by their passionate discussions spanning a multitude of topics? Can I recall a time when their exploration of different interests left me bewildered? Honestly? Rarely. In fact, it’s often exhilarating to witness our favorite communications expert delve into the realms of “erotic power,” or witness a business coach passionately writing about the world of music. It’s in these moments that a genuine connection forms. We trust these multifaceted individuals, and we are itching to accompany them on their journey of diverse passions — we crave it — eagerly absorbing the wealth of knowledge they offer through their content and experiences. It is because they talk about different things that fascinate me! 

Why, then, should it be any different for you and me? As I was navigating my path as an entrepreneur, I started noticing that my clients were drawn to my transformative journey and the energy I radiate. They seek my authenticity and my liberation from struggles, which mirror their own. If we restrict ourselves due to apprehensions about our multifaceted nature, we unintentionally limit the very authenticity that attracts our clients.

I’m not alone in this journey, and neither are you. Understand that your energy, your natural inclinations, and your passions, are all your guiding lights. Trust in them. Just as your clients trust you to lead them toward transformation, trust yourself to lead your business with the same authenticity. At times, I noticed those who struggled to grasp my authenticity. It’s an indication that they might not be my true audience — and that’s perfectly okay.

It’s about crafting a holistic approach that blends your multifaceted essence with the digital landscape: all dimensions that your target audience absorbs information through. I can still share your specific insights, my offers, and the results my clients can achieve. The specificity that matters isn’t the niche I fit into but the genuine value I bring to the table. 

I’m embracing my restlessness. I have the unique ability to expedite progress and satisfaction. I move from one interest to another with remarkable speed. And this is my strength. Unlike others, I have the power to shift focus effortlessly when an endeavor no longer aligns with my energy. This agility is a boon, a testament to my dynamic nature. A nature I’m no longer resisting. I am loving it. And if you’re anything like me, rest assured, as long as you’re driven by passion rather than frustration, the right people will gravitate towards you.

We live in a world that often values specialization over diversity, so embracing my multifaceted self has seemed like a challenge. Yet, it’s precisely this authenticity that sets me apart. 

So, trust your journey. Embrace your versatility; embrace your passion. Let intuition guide you in creating anything that reflects your genuine self. As you do so, you’ll find that your audience – your tribe – is already out there, waiting to connect with the unfiltered, multifaceted you.

Circles and Repetitions

my mind always thinks it’s a competition,
between me and my intuition,
repeating over and over lies I can’t deny,
but on them, I rely.
I’ve never even been given the second chance,
always kicked out in the first glance,
the loops and hoops of my empty mind not loved,
making me believe I couldn’t have the doubt of the word.
on every and each dream I have,
I compete with myself who will be the most
to be paranoid,
and share,
and hate the repetitions and inhibitions to be,
and hate the real to see.
the storm comes from the beginning of my stomach,
and my hands shake in the name of a bruised scratch.
I can’t deal with this emotion,
I don’t want any commotion,
and from the bottom of my lungs I scream,
how I hate to be me,
how I hate others to see,
what I was meant to be.

The Voice of Our Ancestors

He hears them. They speak to him constantly. No, not in his head. The voices speak to him in the breeze, the creeks, the leaves, the rocks, the soil, and everything all around him. Sometimes, they speak to him through the eyes of the elders of the community. These are voices that never stop for him.

Once, they were but unintelligible whispers. They were as unobtrusive as the rustle of leaves. Now they are clear. Their message is clear.

They told him to start the Maka Forest Villa.  

This journey began for architect Ronnie Yumang one fateful November in 2013. No one was expecting it. Typhoon Haiyan, a once-in-a-lifetime super typhoon, ravaged the Philippines. Haiyan had claimed 6300 lives and left thousands more homeless. Entire cities were leveled. It was the costliest typhoon in the country’s history. More than PHP 122 billion (US$2.2 billion) in damage was recorded.

Architect Ronnie, like many Filipinos, was horrified by the aftermath of the typhoon. The damage to infrastructure was catastrophic. And it was around that time when he heard the quiet voice. “Why was this so devastating for an advanced, urbanized section of the country yet, in Batanes, a tiny island in the topmost northern section of the country, where people lived in far less sophisticated homes and are constantly hit by the worst typhoons, you never hear of this? Destruction was always reserved for the most modern of cities,” the voice asked him and observed. 

The voices explained that the typhoons never stopped passing through the islands of the Philippines. The voices had seen them ever since they first settled the islands. It was just part of the nature of the Philippines. At that point, architect Ronnie realized that our ancestors had been building based on the natural environmental conditions that surrounded them. To this day, the people of Batanes continue to build in the “old ways.” These traditions have been deemed primitive by the modern world we live in. Yet, it is these old ways that have kept them safe from the onslaught of typhoons.

This old, antiquated method of design and construction, which his modern architectural schooling and society looked down on, could stand the test of time and even the harshest of conditions. It was this realization that made him question all he had been taught.  

As a child of poor beginnings, architect Ronnie worked his way up from poverty to finish in a top local university with a degree in architecture. He was taught that the best buildings and houses were those made of concrete and other modern materials. These were sophisticated, expensive and viewed as classy. This was what he, along with generations of students and local people, were made to believe.

The conversations he has had with our ancestors told him that these modern methods were not necessarily the best. Millenia of experience using local regenerative materials were far better, they insisted. It was that shift in thinking that led architect Ronnie to learn more about what they call TEK or Traditional Ecological Knowledge. 

TEK is a building and engineering method that uses the best practices of indigenous and local cultures. The premise is that these pre-fossil-fuel-era practices had evolved based on the collective experience of the community. While they tend to utilize renewable energy and resources, they make use of generations of understanding of the behavior of the natural environment. Thus, they tend to be better suited for the local settings rather than transplanted methods or technologies. Western systems try to control the environment while indigenous ones see themselves embedded into ecosystems.

As he learned more, his eyes were opened to the fact that modern, Western building materials like concrete were not normally recovered. After they had been deemed old, they  were merely discarded. There is so much discussion on conserving water, electricity and other natural resources. However, architect Ronnie reveals, “85% of extracted resources like cement, sand, gravel and steel” are overlooked. In fact, Leed-certified sustainable buildings,  he claims, are built from 85%-90% non-renewable materials. 

Taking it a step further, he goes beyond sustainability and pushes for regenerative practices. These are like what is advocated in the TEK philosophy. He said the learning point from Typhoon Haiyan was to create a model where “instead of us keeping giving donations, we’d rather help people become more sustainable.” This can be done through TEK building techniques like those used in Batanes where they experience the same typhoons but experience very little damage and practically no casualties. This led him to his advocacy of only using regenerative building techniques. Architect Ronnie’s entire Maka Forest Villa and future communities for like-minded nature-respecting people are built around this theory. There he hosts people to see how regeneration can work. 

To date, he claims that his method is not only cheaper but it also reduces the negative impacts on the environment. This has led him to secure clients who now opt to build this way.

His regenerative spaces eliminate the need to utilize electricity-draining appliances as he uses the environment to provide the natural water and cooling required for the warm tropical weather. He rejects building materials that are non-regenerative to stay true to his vision. 

A woman holds a pallet of large mushrooms.
(Image courtesy of Maka Forest Villa)

It is architect Ronnie’s desire that more listen to what our ancestors have taught us and fewer to the noise of Western commercialism and modernity. In hindsight, having visited the Maka Forest Villa, one can say the quiet breeze that rustles the leaves does whisper a calm feeling into one’s ears. What harm can come from listening?

Ripping off the Words

What’s a good picture for you?
mine is the one in which I’m the happiest.
it’s fascinating how the parts of us
that we don’t appreciate enough
are the parts
most worthy of appreciation.
and I don’t just mean appearances.

the over consciousness of my mind
that surrounds me with fear,
the kind
where I’m okay with staying longer
but I’d rather not.
I have too much to hide.

the fresh acne bleeding off my face
or the bleeding of my hollow bones
you won’t see a red colour on me
or feel my skin rough as stone
the cut on my arm that I got last night
trying to rip my skin off
ripping off my sight
of rational consciousness
that the demons already overcame
but you won’t see it through
the faux smile on my face
you won’t see those stretch marks
on my thighs
or my severe guilt-ridden mind
I hope you don’t tell me
to look any more alive
already wise
enough to still be here.
and maybe even stay longer.

no, I’m not depressed
necessarily at least
just not as happy as I looked
in the last picture we took.

you see
That’s the funny thing about pictures.
the stillness is too biased
towards the moment it was taken
that I might never know
what the present holds
for since the moment in the picture
a lot of me,
has moulded into one.

the people standing close
aren’t around at all
to be recognised.
the smiling faces
meant more than just people
they said, “it was a luxury
which couldn’t be bought with money.”
let alone, I try to put myself last
and even, maybe, win both
one day,
the photo-booth would count me worthy
even if I still am the person as I was
a decade away.

so I put the polaroids
on the last page of my book
as if those were the last
pictures I ever took.

Image of a polaroid picture on a white background. The polaroid picture is dark and difficult to make out what, or who, the subject is.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

The Beauty of Daydreaming

Have you ever traveled in your mind? 

Because I did, and it was life-changing. 

It was 2 a.m., a typical Friday night in my hometown, Buenos Aires. It was winter, and I was practically freezing, laying down in my bed, scrolling through my LinkedIn profile, wondering what else I could do to make my CV more appealing.

In the blink of an eye, my mind shut down. I somehow managed to open my eyes to find myself lying on the floor, but it was the floor of my beach house. That was incredibly weird. I didn’t recall having bought a ticket to Uruguay, but I wasn’t going to complain. It was my favorite place on earth, my safe place. But what just happened? Did I teleport? Was any of what was happening real? 

I decided not to think about it too much and tried to enjoy the present, or whatever that was. So I stood up, opened the front door, and stepped out into the wide, starry night. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the fresh, salty air. I lifted my head up to the sky, and my eyes met the moon and smiled. 

A beach at sunset, slightly out of focus.
(Image courtesy of Belén de Dios)

That was the moment I realized that none of this was happening on planet earth because she smiled back. The moon had just delivered a smile to me. I decided to play along with it and whispered, “Thank you.”

She answered, naturally, and said, “You’re welcome; now you should go to meet her.” 

That confused me a little because I honestly didn’t know who she was talking about. Who was waiting for me, and where? 

So, I resumed my walk, guided by all the big green trees and the lovely hummingbirds. I walked past my friends’ houses and saw the light of a fireplace inside one of them. I got close to it and peeped in, looking for a clue or somebody. That’s when I saw her silhouette, dancing to the rhythm of something that only she could hear. 

When she saw me, she didn’t look surprised at all. She took my hand and intertwined our fingers while the other gave me a folded piece of paper. In big, blue capital letters, it read: 

DO YOU EVER FEEL LIKE YOU NEED A BREAK FROM REALITY? 

I glanced at her and answered honestly. I said that every time I find myself stressed, my mind immediately travels to this exact place, the place where I’m the happiest version of myself. Uruguay. The season is summer, and everything is fine; there’s nothing to worry about. It’s that nostalgic feeling that keeps me going. It reassures me to know that everything here will continue to be as it always is, with my friends, my family, the beach, and nature surrounding me. 

When I stopped talking, she smiled and said, “So that’s what you’re doing now, right? Don’t worry, let me hold your hand and guide you through this dance until your mind is at ease again. That’s what I was doing too. I journey to this place whenever I feel anxious.” 

That was when I understood, and I could hear what she was listening to earlier. I grabbed her hand and we hugged until I felt like myself again.

Grandpa’s Dying Gift

By the time she was nine, Chloe was well on her way to becoming a really, really spoiled brat.

As an only child, she got her way with almost everything. Her parents doted on her like crazy and indulged her every whim, being firm subscribers to the belief that she would eventually grow out of her selfish streak. They railroaded over well-meaning objections from her cousins, uncles, aunts and other relatives and persisted in allowing Chloe to live out her childhood unfettered in every way. There was time enough, they felt strongly, for her to face up to the inherent meanness of the real world.

So, her tenth birthday came as quite a shock. The bearer of bad tidings was her father, who, in a few words, shattered forever all her cherished childhood faith in her parents’ god-like powers.

“We can’t go to Disneyland, not just yet,” he told her somberly.

He then patiently fended off her whiny protests about missing this promised and much-anticipated childhood dream theme park visit. After some time, in between sobs, Chloe finally learned why. Grandpa had cancer, her dad explained. As the only child, he was forced to shoulder much of the medical expenses because Grandpa didn’t have enough to pay for himself. Thus, there would need to be cutbacks on some luxuries in their household, and he hoped that Chloe would understand.

Outwardly, Chloe expressed her dismay and concern at Grandpa’s plight. She even shed tears when her dad gave her a wooden carved elephant, which he told her was one of Grandpa’s most treasured possessions. Grandpa had insisted it be given to her now — in case he couldn’t be around to do it personally on her next birthday.

Once back in the privacy of her room, with the door closed, however, she let loose the rage that had risen within her. Chloe had really, really wanted to go to Disneyland — it was a trip that had been promised to her since she was four years old. Why did Grandpa have to spoil it all for her now!

She flung the elephant onto the floor in anger. Disappointed that the impact didn’t even chip it, she stomped on it several times, but nary a mark appeared. Only her feet hurt from all that stomping, stoking her anger even further. Blinded by fury, Chloe picked up the elephant and angrily stalked to her window, intending to throw it out.

But before she could take more than two steps, a teeny voice rang out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “That’s enough, young lady!” the voice scolded.

Taken by surprise, Chloe looked around her. “Who’s that?” she asked, alarmed.

“I’m the spirit in the elephant. Now put me down and tell me why you’re being such an idiot.”

Her temper temporarily shunted aside by shock and curiosity, Chloe brought the elephant closer and peered at its face. “You’re not really talking to me, are you? You, you can’t be. You’re…you’re a wooden carving,” she stammered.

“Of course I’m talking to you. Do you see anyone else in the room?” Chloe heard the strange voice ask. “Are you really that stupid? And do you have a name?”

Chastened, she replied quickly. “Oh, I’m Chloe. What’s yours?”

“No one’s ever bothered to give me one before,” came the reply. “Now, what in the world possessed you to stomp on me like that? It’s given me such a headache!”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to give you a headache. I’m just angry with Grandpa.”

“Why?” asked the teeny voice. “From what I’ve seen, he adores you, silly; not that it’s any of my business.”

“Because,” wailed Chloe, glad to have someone she could finally vent her frustrations to, “he’s sick. And Daddy says we can’t go to Disneyland even though he had promised. He says we need the money to pay for Grandpa’s medicines.”

“That’s too bad. But given the circumstances, I guess I should find it in myself somewhere to forgive you for that temper tantrum. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said thoughtfully. “Could you maybe take me to Disneyland?” Chloe asked, a bit wistful.

“If you had cared to notice, you little horror, I’m just a tiny wooden elephant. Besides, I don’t think your parents would let you go with me,” the teeny voice said.

At her budding hopes being dashed again, tears glistened at the corners of Chloe’s eyes, and her mouth quivered slightly.

“All right, all right, I see you’re having a worse day than I am,” the spirit said, with a heavy sigh. “Tell you what, how does an all-expenses paid trip to Disneyland sound to you?”

“Wow!” Chloe exclaimed, her eyes now bigger than bowling balls and growing. “Can you really do that?”

“Just try me,” the teensy voice replied. “Give me till dinnertime, and I’m sure I’ll have a solution.’

At the dinner table that evening, Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin when her mum screeched out loud for her dad. Somehow, in all the excitement, Chloe finally learned the family had just won an all-expenses paid trip to Disneyland!

Chloe rushed back to her room, picked up the elephant and hugged it tightly. “Thank you!” she whispered gently to it. “Thank you so much! I’m sorry I stomped on you earlier.”

“So,” drawled that now familiar voice, “I see you can have fleeting moments of pleasantness after all. I take it you’ll be bringing me?”

“For sure,” Chloe promised. At this point, she would have promised it anything within the heavens and on earth; she was so over the moon with joy.

And so she did, carrying the wooden elephant in her favorite haversack as she walked with mum and dad into the airport terminal. But when they got onto the plane, Chloe saw they were seated in the coach section, where everything looked so cramped. “Where am I going to play with my toys?” she wailed softly to the wooden elephant.

“Sigh!” came the tired voice. “I guess you’ll want me to do something about that next.”

“Oh, please, please!” pleaded Chloe. “Will you do this for me?”

“As long as you promise to keep quiet for the rest of the trip,” the voice relented. “I’ve yet to see the movies they’re showing on this flight.”

So, lo and behold, Chloe shortly saw a stewardess walking towards her mum and dad, then whispering to them that they had overbooked passengers on the flight. In two shakes of a bunny’s tail, the family was seated in first class and Chloe had ample room to play with her toys.

Upon arrival, Chloe didn’t like the look of the hotel they were heading to. A whisper into her haversack resulted in a booking error being discovered, and everyone was directed to a much nicer hotel across the street.

The room they were initially allocated turned out to be too small for Chloe. Another pleading whisper, and the family was swiftly upgraded to a suite due to a sudden plumbing problem. These little strokes of good fortune continued to shower on the family over the next few hours, delighting mum and dad while Chloe stayed smugly happy.

After breakfast, Chloe decided the bus wasn’t fun enough to qualify as an adventure and asked for a hot-air balloon ride instead.

At this outlandish request, the voice barked, “Hey kid, I’m only a spirit in a little wooden elephant! There are some things even I can’t do, okay?”

Chloe snapped back. “What kind of spirit are you? I’m sure I could do a better job.”

“Look here, you ungrateful little monster. I’ve had just about all I can take of your whining. Spending time with you is worse than an afternoon at the dentist’s getting a root canal! I’d much rather watch grass grow than spend any more time pandering to your whims and fancies.”

“If you think you’re better at this job than I am, you can have it. Let’s see how you cope with overly demanding and ridiculous requests,” the voice from the elephant said.

“Done!” Chloe readily replied.

And so the little spirit took Chloe’s place, rather pleased that it had an actual body to move around with now. 

Mum and dad were none the wiser for the switch when the bus arrived at Disneyland. But ‘Chloe’ urgently needed to go to the toilet, where she threw up from motion sickness. Things progressively went downhill after that and when the family returned to the hotel later, ‘Chloe’ insisted she was just very tired and wanted to sleep, waving away mum’s suggestion they see a doctor.

“Maybe it’s just the jet lag,” Dad speculated aloud and after some hushed whispers between him and mum, ‘Chloe’ was left in bed while her parents followed the afternoon tour schedule. “If you’re still sick when we get back, we’ll take you to the doctor then,” Dad said before leaving her alone in the hotel suite.

Meanwhile, the real Chloe was having the best time ever. After the initial shock at exchanging places and looking on helplessly while her parents took the spirit away to Disneyland, things started looking up.

Chloe soon discovered she had access to a play paradise within the wooden elephant. Every toy she could think of and more, plus books galore, kept her occupied for a while. Then she discovered that the stories and characters in these books could come alive! Soon she was having adventures she could never have imagined, with friends she never knew could exist.

All in all, she reckoned it was far more fun than Disneyland could have ever been, and she secretly gloated at the poor sods who had made the wasted trip there. This was where all the adventure was.

So it was to her great annoyance when midway through one of her adventures – she was wading silently through a swamp to steal a dragon’s egg, which was really an enchanted diamond — she found herself looking out through the wooden elephant’s eyes back at herself. Or rather, what had been her face, animated by the spirit within.

“What do you want?” scolded Chloe. “I was just about to become the most powerful wizardess before you disturbed me.”

“Sheesh, I didn’t think she could get more pompous, but I guess I was wrong,” the spirit muttered. “Chloe can we change back? I don’t like being a little girl. It’s not much fun.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Chloe replied sharply.

“I can’t,” admitted the spirit. “The magic works only if you’re inside the elephant.”

“Hmm,” Chloe thought deviously. “So, you’re stuck being me until I decide to change back.”

Her head nodded, and it was a disconcerting sight – like looking into a mirror and seeing yourself moving while yet not moving. It almost made her feel giddy just thinking about it, but Chloe quickly shoved the thought aside.

“So, if I don’t want to change back, there’s nothing you can do about it, right?” she taunted.

Her head nodded again dumbly.

“Well,” Chloe said then. “I don’t want to change back. That’ll teach you for being so mean to me.”

At which, her head started shaking vigorously in negation. “You can’t do that. We’ve got to change now, or we’ll never be able to change back,” the spirit yelled out in terror.

“Good then.” Smugly, Chloe added, “I don’t want to change back. I like being in here.”

“You don’t understand,” the spirit protested desperately. “I can’t stay in this body for too long. Soon, it will die, and so will I. And once I’m dead, you’ll be stuck in the elephant forever.”

“Forever?” Chloe exclaimed in panic. “But, but, I don’t want to be stuck in here forever. What will my mummy and daddy say?”

“That’s why we must change back now,” said the spirit. “Before it’s too late.”

“Wait a minute,” Chloe stared back at herself. “You’re not trying to trick me again, are you?”

“No!” wailed the spirit. “No tricks. I don’t want to die!”

Chloe quietly stared at herself, her mind working furiously.

Finally, she said, “Okay, I’ll change us back. But here’s what I want you to promise me …”

And so, the exchange was made again. Just to make sure the spirit would stick to its pledges, Chloe asked it for some fried chicken; she suddenly realised she was ravenous.

“Go get it yourself,” the spirit spat at her, sounding rather annoyed. “Look at the mess you’ve made of my place! It’s going to take me weeks to clean it all up.”

“Hellooo,” piped Chloe, surprised at this insolence. “Did you forget something? You just promised to do anything I ask. And you crossed your heart and hoped to die if you ever broke your promise.”

“Did I?” came the smug reply. “Oh my gosh, how could I have been so silly – I can’t die. My promise means nothing, you stupid creature. Now, get lost and leave me alone.”

Chloe was absolutely stunned by this treachery! How dare this spirit trick her again? Burning with rage, she screamed at the wooden elephant, “Get me some fried chicken NOW!”

“Did you just say something?” the tiny voice asked. “I could have sworn I heard someone calling me, but I couldn’t hear clearly over the noise of the vacuum cleaner.”

“If you don’t get my fried chicken now,” threatened Chloe loudly, “I’ll tell my Daddy all about you.”

“Oh bother, must you? I guess I’ll have to tell him then that this trip to Disneyland was all your idea. I wonder what he’ll think about that. Or maybe I could turn all of this into a mistake and make your Daddy pay everything back. Think of how angry he will be when he finds out he won’t have enough money for your grandpa’s medicines.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Of course I would! And I’ll make you so miserable that you’d wish you’d never been born, you awful beast. My, this is going to be so much fun.”

Chloe went ballistic at this insult. “I’ll call you by your real name. Then, you’ll have no choice but to do whatever I say.”

“What real name?” the spirit laughed. “That may work on other spirits, but I’ve never had a name.”

“Liar! I looked into that purple chest hidden under the bed,” Chloe said coldly. “I know all your secrets.”

Shocked silence met this statement. Then, with a loud booming voice, the spirit shouted back at her, “YOU WHAT!? How dare you touch my things with your grubby hands?”

“I’ve also been reading your little notebook in that chest. Since you hate the sound of cymbals so much, I’m going to play my tambourine until you do what I say,” she threatened.

The spirit was aghast. “You’re worse than a gargoyle. You’re a bigger devil than my former master, the magician.”

“Yes, the magician. He put you in this carved elephant, didn’t he? And he made you do all kinds of things you disliked.”

The wooden carving actually shuddered in Chloe’s hands. “Why? Why? Why me?” shouted the spirit. “Ow, ow! Why do I still punch the wall when I should know better by now? I never learn.” But the elephant continued to shake, and the sound of stomping could still be heard.

Chloe was pleased with this reaction. There was more that she had learned from that little notebook. “I also know your mummy gave you away when you were a baby,” Chloe taunted.

Suddenly, there was complete silence from the carved object. The hushed minutes stretched into awkwardness, and still, there was no sound from the spirit.

Regretting it from the moment the spiteful words had left her mouth, Chloe knew that she had pushed her luck too far. No one deserved that final bit of insult, no matter how wicked they may be. She felt queasy inside her, wondering just how badly she had hurt the spirit’s feelings and wishing there was some way to take back those hateful words.

Finally, she couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I’m so sorry,” she apologised softly. “I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

“Yes, you did!” came back the icy response. “You’re a selfish, self-centered spoiled brat who doesn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe apologised again. “Please don’t be mad at me. I want to be your friend.”

“Is this how you treat your friends?” snapped the spirit.

“Err, no,” she stammered.

“Then why should I even bother to give you the time of day, much less be your friend?”

“Because I like you,” Chloe admitted. “I know you may not want to believe me, but I’ve never had so much fun with anyone else, even though you are quite mean sometimes.”

“I am, ain’t I?” There was a momentary silence. “Did you just say you liked little old me?”

Chloe clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! I promise to be your best friend forever!”

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise? Maybe you’re just lying to me.”

“You lied first.”

Chuckles greeted this assertion. “That’s right, little girl. My, it’s going to be fun being friends with you.”

“Does this mean I’m getting my fried chicken?”

The spirit sighed.

~+~+~+~+~

Fortunately, the rest of the vacation went by pleasantly without any further ruckus.

Finding Chloe up and about again upon their return, her parents were so relieved they asked no questions when she seemed unimpressed by what else Disneyland had to offer. They blamed her disinterest on the aftereffects of her short illness; little did they know that the manufactured entertainment just couldn’t match up to the fantasies she’d already enjoyed.

There was also something else bugging Chloe — she didn’t like that the spirit had begun ignoring her, always pleading that it was busy cleaning up her mess. Missing her friends terribly, she had tried several times but failed to get the spirit to pay any attention to her. And so, she was stuck with the dull company of her parents and other adults.

Still, one significant interaction did take place between them later that night. When Chloe gave it the name “Imp”, short for “important person”, the spirit seemed happy enough with her heartfelt gesture — so Imp it graciously became. Then, Imp went back to being busy again. It was only very much later that Chloe learnt why Imp had been so busy.

The bad news arrived when the family reached home. They were shocked to hear Grandpa had died while they were on their flight back. Chloe was so wracked with guilt at the news; if she had not insisted on going to Disneyland, they would have been with Grandpa otherwise.

With the necessary rituals needing to be attended to, her parents were too busy to pay her much attention over the next three days, and Chloe was left to stew in her juices alone in her room. Imp had been mostly absent as well, and when it did deign to answer her calls after much delay and rather infrequently at that, it was only to tell her it was too busy before going away again. So she had finally curled up teary-eyed in bed while cuddling the rather uncomfortably hard-carved elephant.

To her surprise, where all else had failed, this last act of self-pity got an instant response from the spirit. “Hey, why are you flooding my place?” Imp mock scolded.

Trying to hold back sobs, Chloe apologised, “I’m sorry. I just feel so sad.”

“Please stop. I see no reason why you should be doing any crying.”

“Grandpa’s dead,” Chloe wailed.

“I know, I know,” muttered Imp. “He’s gone on to a much better place and the last I heard, he’s quite happy there. So, get over it and stop all this blubbering.”

“But you don’t understand. It’s all my fault,” she wailed louder.

“Why?” asked Imp. “He was old, and he had cancer. It was time for him to go. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I should have been here. I shouldn’t have gone to Disneyland!”

“Feeling a little guilty, aren’t we?” The smirk was clear in Imp’s tone. “Well, if it’ll make you feel any better, your Grandpa wanted you to go.”

Huh?!” Surprise was painted on Chloe’s features. “How? How did Grandpa know?”

“I told him, of course,” Imp replied smugly. “Did you actually think I’d be doing you all those favours without your Grandpa’s consent?”

“But, but, …” Chloe was now really confused. “Aren’t you mine now?”

“You little twit, there’re a lot of things you’re not ready to know just yet. I belong to me, you don’t own me.”

“I don’t understand. Grandpa gave me this elephant. How …?”

“Okay, maybe you have a tiny claim on my time because of the elephant. But that doesn’t equal ownership, and even if it did, there’s enough of a gaping loophole for a whale, no, a whole school of whales, to swim through without sweating it.”

“What are you saying? Wait,” Chloe narrowed her eyes, “does this mean you won’t do whatever I say? Have I run out of wishes?”

Puh-lease! It’s pathetic how you dimwits have been suckered hook, line and sinker with that three-wishes nonsense. No genie worth his salt would have stooped to give you even one, much less three wishes unless you could offer it something it found to be worth its while. And I’ve yet to meet any human who was able to actually tempt a genie into that possibility, much less get it to grant any wishes.”

“But you will do anything I ask you to?”

“It’s a cross I have to bear.” Imp sighed. “In case you’re too woolly-headed to get that, the answer is yes.”

“Why?”

“Because your Grandpa asked me to. Why else do you think I’ve been so busy over the past few days?”

“You’re not making any sense,” said Chloe.

“Let me spell it out plainly for you. I’ve been busy taking care of things your Grandpa wanted done; he had drawn up a list before he died.”

“Imp, you’re still not making any sense,” Chloe growled. “Grandpa is dead. Why are you still busy?”

“What a dolt you are. Let me just say there are some things you won’t understand until you grow up. Your Grandpa gave me very specific instructions; one of them was to grant you your every whim, within reason, of course, until you turn 16. Oops! I’m not supposed to tell you that yet.”

“What are you not telling me, Imp?” Chloe peered suspiciously at the carving.

“Little girl, your Grandpa would swim to the stars to show just how much he adored you, not that it would do anyone much good. But, unfortunately for poor little me, he could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be. So, I’m stuck with showing you just how endlessly he loved you, at least until the very second you turn 16.”

More tears ran down Chloe’s cheeks, this time from gratitude and love for her dead Grandpa. “Is that all?” she finally asked softly.

“There are many other things you’re not ready to know yet, and I’ll fill you in when I feel the time’s right. I’m forced to work on the premise that you’re really as smart as your Grandpa seems to believe you to be, so it’ll help if you stop asking too many stupid questions. And, by the way, could you turn off the waterworks — it’s flooding my basement.” 

From Azerbaijan to Poland: How I Created A Home Away From Home

I am Nargiz Mammadzada, a young woman who moved from Azerbaijan to Poland at the age of 23 during the COVID pandemic’s most frightening period. 

I left my family, friends and loved ones behind. In short, my whole life.

Almost two years ago, in April, I started my life from scratch. As difficult as it was, I am just as happy and proud that I did it, mainly because I did it alone. 

But why did I do this? What is my story? For this, I will have to take you to the 2000s.

When I was a young child, even before I was in school, I watched TV shows for kids. In one of these shows, two people showed different cities, countries and continents to children by traveling to them. I watched with such admiration that I vividly remember sitting closer to the TV each time and watching with a big smile on my face. And then, when I was just four or five years old, I made a huge decision: I would travel the world, choose all the countries I want to see, and live in each of them for a while.

As I grew older, I did not forget this resolution. I always reminded myself and told my family about my dream. I admired the Eiffel Tower so much that my friends and family always bought me Eiffel Tower accessories. I still admire the Eiffel Tower, but unfortunately, I have not yet had the opportunity to travel to Paris.

Then I started school, and of course, one of my favorite subjects was geography. I have read and researched so much that I have already visited numerous destinations in my dreams, where I have seen different countries and met new people. I scoured encyclopedias about different cultures to prepare myself for my great journey one day.

However, the turning point in my life took place when I was just 13 years old, when I decided to study in another country.

Naturally, the thought of living in another country has always excited me. In my opinion, being born in one country does not mean we have to live in that country for the rest of our lives. Our world, as a whole, is our big home—every inch of it, not just one country. But many other factors led me to make this decision. I was not comfortable with the society in which I lived in and its standards, and I did not feel relevant or that I fit in. One of the driving factors in my decision was that the standard of living was not as high as I wanted it to be.

From early adolescence onwards, I started working harder to build my future the way I wanted it. At first, no one, including my family, believed me because they thought the decision I made in childhood would change. But little did they know that I had remained on that path since that day.

I graduated as an “Honorary Graduate” and pursued a bachelor’s degree. From the very beginning, I planned to study for a master’s degree in another country because I wanted to get my degree, gain some experience by working a little, and take this big step after I had become more confident.

Fortifying my dream while at uni

By the time I was an undergraduate, I had already started to develop my English skills. Learning this language to perfection was one of my biggest goals. I read many articles about different countries and universities. I never stopped researching, I never stopped dreaming, and most importantly, I never lost my passion and desire.

Seeing this determination, my family did their best to support me and help me grow as a more educated young woman. They were the ones who encouraged me to do more research and learn more languages. My peers and colleagues often criticized me and tried to dissuade me from my chosen path because not only was I the only daughter of my family, I was also the only child.

Whenever this happened, whenever people did not understand me and judged me, I always had the same response ready: “No matter what, we are given only one chance to live our lives, and when I will look back in the future, I do not want to start my words with ‘I wish I had done things differently.’ I do not want to regret the life I could not live or blame anyone for that.”

And I would also proudly add: “I am not the only one who thinks so; my mother always tells me that, too. She is my biggest supporter.” 

My mom always says, “If you want this so badly, I cannot stop you. It is your right to go and live your life the way you want. In the future, I do not want to be the reason you regret that you did not do it, and I do not want to be the one who got in your way.”

For me, these were the words of a parent who treated their child as an individual, not as a dependent person. Nothing could stop me from following my thoughts and dreams, but of course, the support of my family meant a lot to me.

A Polish street during a sunny day.
(Image courtesy of Nargiz Mammadzada)

I didn’t let rejection clip my wings

This hasn’t been easy. First, I applied to universities to study in Italy, which was my dream, and I got accepted to five of the world’s top-ranked universities. However, the joy of admission was overshadowed by the rejection of my visa application. Suddenly, my dream of studying in Italy ended before it began. 

But this cloud had a silver lining. 

In 2021, I moved to one of the most beautiful cities in Poland, Gdansk, where I started my master’s degree. Shortly after moving, I began working alongside my studies. It was very important for me to be a strong and independent young woman, so standing on my own two feet without needing anyone’s financial support was my main goal. 

I overcame culture shock and loneliness to love my adopted city

Of course, the difficulties I experienced in the process of adapting, the culture shock, and the struggle I waged within myself due to being far away from all my loved ones were difficult at first.

At the start, I felt so alone. It was the very first time in my life that I had come so far away from the place where I had lived my whole life. In this country, where I did not even know the language, even doing grocery shopping was a very difficult task for me.

There have been many moments when I have asked myself, “What am I doing here? I want to go back to my country, to my family!” However, despite my initial reservations, I always managed to pick myself up and continue from where I left off.

I didn’t even know how to maintain a healthy relationship with my family and friends on my own, but I am grateful to them that, during these two years, they never once made me feel that I was far away. Hours of phone and video calls with family and friends were sometimes the only things I looked forward to during the day. When I had a problem or when I was looking for someone to share my experiences with, or just to talk to, they were there for me. My phone is full of photos and videos my friends have sent me in the last two years. There was nothing they would not do just to put a smile on my face. And I am so grateful for them and will always be. The first time I had to spend my birthday far away and without anyone, they were once again there for me.

I have to say that since I moved during the height of the COVID pandemic, it was not easy to socialize and make new friends. This, of course, made the situation even more difficult. It was only after the restrictions were lifted did I have the opportunity to meet new people.

But over time, Gdansk started to become my second hometown. Now I can say with all my heart that, in the future, even when I will live in another city or another country, I will remember this city as my second home. It’s where I spent the best years of my youth, a city where I built my independent life with more confidence, and it will always be difficult to do justice to its importance to me with mere words.

Resilience

The Epilogue

To the one who has arrived
Bringing lucidity to an interrupted-
And wandering life
That was once tribulated,
But is now contented

To the one I wear as a second skin
Bringing glee-
And carving pathways to the light within
Filling voids to manifest a fading dream,
Breathing life back into a once dimming gleam

To the one who has heard
And answered a heart in need-
With a love deserved
And set a caged bird free.

I’ve always struggled to be present. To be in the moment, to experience life fully as it is in the present moment, and more importantly, enjoy it. That is kind of how despair works, I suppose. The only thing that got me through the more harrowing moments where I felt empty was my longing for a better future. The belief that things would eventually work out is what kept me going. That is hope. My hope lies in the future, the epilogue, and this is my ode to it.

Image of the landscape of South Africa. It features massive plateaus and green valleys. Above, the sun shines across a cloudy sky.
(Image courtesy of Thomas Bennie on Unsplash)


Child of Alkebulan.

Dear world…

You don’t know who I am.
To you,
I’m just a face among billions of other faces.
A body among billions of other bodies.
Billions of faces and bodies you encounter daily.
But I am one among those many,
A face, a body,
Connected as one.
A mind, a heart,
Two parts,
In spirit.
Dear world,
Call me,
Human.
Define me,
As
Being.

I, Indigo child,
Seed of Alkebulan,
From the womb of invisibility
Appear,
As I am born and-
My consciousness-fuelled-wails of a babe-in-arms,
Give a voice to existing.

Yet world,
Even in the midst of my many new roars
Still, you do not hear of me
WORLD, listen, I am present.
In your space, “I AM”.

World,
You plunder-
And I
March in strong opposition,
To your affliction filled and bloodied deeds
I am awake
While you search for different ways to remain asleep
You divide, conquer, and contaminate
I fight you in hidden actions and in manifested speech
World,
You try to silence me with your reluctance to understand
That I am more than some other woman
or just another man,
But “I AM”.
I AM”.
World, do you hear me?
I AM!”

World,
You will hear of me-
And,
Your noises stilled
By the deafening war-cries of the rising dynasty
Rooted indelibly,
In the fertile soils of my ancestry-
A home within which I,
Drift in the connecting oceans of my tranquillity
Basking in every glorious vision
Of an emerging me.

Africa’s struggle to come into her own resonates with me deeply. It reminds me of the challenges I’ve faced in defining my identity apart from outside influences and the divisions those influences caused in me.
Now just like her, slowly rising, finding her voice, and embracing her roots, I, too, am boldly declaring who I am, being true to myself, and taking her wherever I go.

SANE

SANE: A word I have never quite been acquainted with. I was brought up by someone who physically used my head to punish the walls of the house she found no peace in.  How could “sane” possibly live here? Blindfolded by my desire to run from that hellhole, I thought the only road leading to happiness is marriage. 

Damn, world! Nobody told me. 

Damn me, maybe? Would I have listened? 

The mind is a rascal! It allows you to take the shortcut, and yet, it is sneakily aware of the baggage that it ties to your feet. How far down this wretched path do you think I traveled?

Four years into my dream, I sat in the darkened room of my mind with my naïve dreams behind me, barely visible through my obscure view. He wasn’t who I desperately wanted him to be, and I couldn’t be further from who I thought I was. 

Two roads were mercilessly strewn before me. One road was the “death” screaming: “End your life! End this misery! Offload this burden and surrender to the black hole!” 

Another road beckoned me to face the abyss with courage. To look at my demon, to look at me, and to wrestle with God like Jacob did. To leave limping if I had to.

People think demons are scary. But the ones that called to me were nice. What was so scary about putting an end to the endless loop of a thousand uninvited bats circling your mind? How is an offer to end one’s self-annihilation not attractive? 

But do you know what is hard? Turning your head towards the light when you are six feet under the darkness. Because light is not just warm and inviting, but it also reveals the many faces of the ghosts one has been dancing with. 

It is a complex thing: to accept a truth one refuses to see. Much more for me who kept my eyes closed-shut and called it dark.

But…

A simple song, a warming hug, a kind word or gesture even from yourself to you if that is all you can afford. 

A listening ear, an understanding soul and one that sits with you, not judging, holding your hand as you wrestle with your demons. 

Light, I dare say, will always overcome darkness. So, to you readers I say, may you be all these things to the people around you, including yourself.

Image of grey clouds with the sun lighting up the edges of each cloud. The edges are a bright, coppery yellow and orange, contrasting the dark color of the rest of the clouds.
Image courtesy of Marcus Dall Col on Unsplash

Old Photographs

A ghost of a smile
Graced my lips,
Gazing at old faded photos of us I missed,
Younger days have gone so fast.
Truly good times never last.

Old happy times
Memories are forever stored in my mind.
Is this how getting old goes,
Always going back to times, we lost,
Favorite pastime now, I boast.

Old photographs lovingly stored,
Like treasures I dearly behold,
Bringing me back in time,
Like the sound of a sweet chime.

Under the same sky, we reminisce,
Good old times are the best,
Under the same sky, we cry,
Of people and things we lost,
Under the same sky, we gaze,
Never mind if this is a phase.

Every day is a new day to start anew,
Let the blue sky guide us through,
In God’s perfect time
We shall meet again, my friend,
Hoping that we can be the best again.