live in the Now

Humanity is a privilege, we can't give in When they build walls, we'll build bridges This is resistance, we're resilient When they spread hate, we shine brilliant March by the millions 'til they hear the children We found ourselves at a distance Open up the jails and the overcrowded cells When we oppress anyone, we oppress ourselves Greatest gift I ever learned is helpin' someone else You feel fully fulfilled 'cause you forget about yourself Service, purpose works if you work it Love everyone regardless of the God they worship This isn't the Apocalypse We can't address the hate until we acknowledge it If Jesus was alive, would he let Mohamed in? This isn't nature, my daughter hugs strangers We teach fear and preach hatred Put up a fence, scared to meet our neighbors Think that if we let them in, they'll take advantage of us later There's so much anger and this world is ours, raise her My daughter, hope it's a dream when I wake up tomorrow

Whatever you are physically...male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy--all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside.

Don't you understand? You have to push, drive, make yourself sit down and say "I can do this." Write, as much as you can, whatever you can, because something is better than nothing. Eventually, words start flowing by themselves, continuous and unrelenting, until you realise that you don't possibly have anymore to give. Your heart has gone through pen onto paper and all the emotions you've ever felt are written down, tangible in form.

There is pain in the body or the heart or the soul or the mind or all of the above. Body pain is obvious. Heart pain is the pain that comes from others, when they love you too much or not enough or the wrong way. Soul pain comes from feel your life is one big waste. Mind pain is what I can't figure out. It's like when you throw body, heart, and soul pain into a blender, then you add a cup of disgust at all that you are, at all that you've become, at all that you will ever be.

I wish for the same thing I've hoped for since the beginning. I wish for a life so brave, so unpredictable, so full of unexpected joys and unforgettable love that no box could possibly contain all my memories. Such a life won't be perfect. It'll be something better. It'll be my own paradise.

Sometimes I think of how lucky I am, that despite being born in a Desi family, I’ve never had to hear things like “you need to learn to make roti” or “if you don’t do ___, no man will ever marry you”. I’ve never been treated differently from my brother, or been told to do housework because I’m a girl, or been told that my studies can take a backseat because preparing for marriage is more important. I think of how lucky I am, because I’ve seen so few families like ours, where my cousins and I are all able to choose what we want to study, where we want to study, and what we will make of our lives. 

He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.