I’ve been thinking about legacy a lot recently. I know it’s morbid but every time I have an ache or pain, the first thing that runs through my mind is that it’s something serious and I mustn’t have long left on this planet.
Of course, none of us know exactly when the end is coming so we do really need to think about the legacy that we are leaving behind for our children and their children.
As I’ve watched the news recently, it has become more and more evident that nothing is set in stone anymore. The money that we make and accumulate and the property that we hope to pass on can be taken from us in an instant. It’s terrifying, but it’s in these moments of fear that we really get some clarity on what’s important.
I think that there are a couple of things that we can leave behind that are much better than property and money. The first is the things that we create, artistically. Paintings and pieces of writing and sculptures and films and crochet blankets. Everything that is an artistic expression is like a piece of our heart that we have poured out into the world. These are things that are personal and even if they are worth nothing to the world at large, they are irreplaceable for the ‘few’ that I mention in this poem. Think of a painting done by a three year old at nursery. His parents will put it on their fridge and love it forever when it has no value to anyone else. Sure, the paper may disintegrate into nothing but the love that it represented will never be wiped out.
The other thing you can leave is something that will grow and help others over time. Even helping once or twice at a shelter or food bank is helping that thing to grow and just think of all the people that it will help over time. Our good actions are like ripples and they just spread without our awareness. All we are responsible for is starting that process.
I hope that you are already working on your legacy. You don’t need to even know what it is, just pumping those good intentions out into the world could be building something that will be great long after you are gone.
as i marched through the crowd of glamour and glitz.
dumbly, i looked down at the gown that i wore.
“a dress,” i said, feeling deflated.
why would they ask?
does it matter if i wear
a thing that i plucked
from the rails of forever twenty one?
does it matter that the blusher and lipstick is on?
i wish so bad that you would learn to see
that rather inadvertently
you’ve missed a golden opportunity
to open up a conversation
that would give you a sort of indication
that the world at large, it wants to hear,
less about the stuff that’s so nonsensical
and more about the things we loathe
and that we love and that we fear.
that’s what pulls upon the strings
that hold our hearts in place.
that’s what reaches inside our soul,
shining a light on all that is dark
making us squirm and scratch at the skin
until nothing is left but a thing that is raw,
the clothes that you asked about all tattered and torn.
so now it is time that i make you a pledge
if you ask where i bought the shoes on my feet
or who was the person that coiffed my hair
i’ll say something smart and incredibly deep
and i’ll do it with style
and courage and flair.
I saw this thing that was said by Jennifer Lawrence and just had to write something about it. It made me laugh and get angry all at once which is what all the best quotes should do. Nothing should be entirely black or white if it’s going to make us think and open up a lively debate.
On the one hand, asking her what she is wearing is the standard question we expect to hear on the red carpet. It’s what the designers put the dress on her for. But then she kind of has a point. Are we worrying too much about the things that shouldn’t really matter at all?
We are living in a world where so many people have depression and anxiety and so much of it is because we are scared that we are not good enough. There is a deep black hole inside some of us and it could be filled if we started asking meaningful questions. Better questions than “is the dress you are wearing really expensive and highly sought after?”
We should be seeking kindness and fun and a desire to love; this is what will make the world a nicer place to live in. I hope that today you spend a little less time judging people by what they are wearing, what job they do and what car they drive and a little more time getting to know the real them and what makes them tick.
I really hope that my words resonate with some people out there because this is a fear that has crippled me over the years. I’m not sure if it is down to some repressed trauma; maybe I got locked in a cupboard when I was naughty back when I was three?
I can joke about it but the fear of being asked into the office has made my life a living nightmare. Every time it happens I can feel myself sweating and my heart palpitating. And then nine times out of ten, whatever my manager wanted to say to me is positive anyway!
I think that a lot of this fear comes from my own insecurities. I constantly worry that I’m going to get pulled up for doing something wrong and a lot of the time this prevents me from even starting something. I sometimes wonder where I may have gotten to in my career if I had been more fearless and cared less about the dreaded office. I wish that I had known in my twenties that it’s fine to get something wrong. We all make mistakes and that’s how we grow and develop into strong and wise people.
If you are struggling with the fear of the office, try to see it as a place of growth. I understand how it quite literally feels like a tomb, like a place that I’m never going to escape from once that door closes behind me. It’s about as scary as being buried alive for me, so I know that it’s worthy of a panic attack. There is nothing to be ashamed of in feeling this frightened but do draw strength from the knowledge that there are lots of us that feel the same. I pray that you find strength and that next time you are called into the office there is a positive outcome.
Popping harmlessly before they reach that other girl.
But actually, they’re like a tiny army
Of barbed and deadly spears going on the hunt.
They gather speed and gather mass
Before they find their target.
When they hit they hurt like hell,
Crushing hearts and scratching brains.
Metal on metal screeching loudly
As she crumples inwards like
The messy car wreck that was never wanted.
It was harmless fun, or so they thought
Until that day the gossip killed.
I’ve had so much trouble resisting gossip over the years. It’s such a problem at school and in the work place and it’s so easy to get sucked into it. I’ve described it as being the same as water flowing down a drain; once the plug has been pulled, there is no escaping that pull.
Since I have become a Christian I am so much more aware of my flaws and it helps me to turn to the Bible so that I do not get sucked into these things. I know that if I stay well away then I am safe. If I don’t take those first steps by getting involved and even listening to the gossip, then I am in a much safer position.
I also wanted to use this poem to show where gossip can end up. It can be as destructive as a car crash, killing anyone in its way. What would you do if you found out that your words had been the cause of somebody harming themselves? I know that I couldn’t live with myself and yet we all do it. We all whisper in corners about people that we don’t like or we think that we are better than.
If you have been subjected to bullying and gossip then you will know the pain that it causes, so keep that in mind next time you hear someone mindlessly spreading rumours. Try and be the point where it stops. And if you are being bullied at the moment make sure that you speak to someone. If you’re at school speak to a teacher and if it’s at work go to HR. Nobody needs to put up with it so stay safe and never get to the point where you are considering harming yourself because of it. You are loved and special and you can hold onto that forever and ever.
Much Love,
Rachel xx
A troublemaker plants seeds of strife; gossip separates the best of friends.
As I try to tell myself that this is all for money.
I need the money if I want to live,
Without it humans simply shrivel up and die.
It’s our lifeblood, it makes the world go round.
But me, I hate the stuff.
It’s crude papery body flutters through my fingers,
Never there quite long enough,
To make a difference in life.
It simply swoops into my line of sight,
Plucks all the happiness that’s curled inside my hand.
It tells me that I’m never good enough,
That my boss will want me out, or want me dead.
Eventually it pecks until there’s nothing left.
I’m just a shell of who I used to be.
Perhaps I’m shy of work, of effort and of toil.
Perhaps I am just trouble, a burden on the state.
Whatever the reason, I’m scared of what will happen.
I’m scared of what will rob me of the life I have,
I’m terrified of the lifelike claws that dig their way,
Inside my thoughts, into my life.
I’m holding on but I don’t know
How much longer this can last.
My grasp is failing.
I am falling.
It is done.
I work part time because I’ve had some horrible experiences at work that have really left me quite frightened. Some people might sneer and say that I’m being a bit of a snowflake, but I’m really trying and this is a poem about that battle.
Every day that I go to my job I have to battle internally with all of my demons and, quite frankly, it’s exhausting. I sometimes worry that I’m work shy, but I know from the amount of effort that I have to put in to just show up that that can’t be the case. I must be committed if I am going to this much trouble.
On a daily basis I have to tell myself that I am trying and the very fact I am getting in and standing on my own two feet is proof that I am winning the battle, little by little. It is terrifying and yet I still do it.
And then, I have the daily reminder that I need to work if I am going to have the money to eat and do the things that I want to. I sometimes worry that eventually it’s all going to dry up and then I will die. It feels like a wild animal is chasing me down and that is where this poem comes from.
If you are struggling with a fear of work and getting fired and everything that goes along with that, then I hear you. It’s horrible to fear something that is so important in life. I hate when I hear people say that they live for their jobs because I wonder what is wrong with me; why can’t I have that passion? Instead I am left with a crippling fear and a life that I feel is half lived. If you are like me then I would love for you to know that there are other people out there. You are not alone. Speak to someone, get counselling. Just don’t let it drive you to the point where you are done.
Ever wonder if there was a pivotal moment in your life when you may well have chosen wrong? I have so many of these moments littered throughout my life and I refer to them as my Sliding Doors Moments. They make me think that if just one moment had been different then I could end up in a completely different life.
Normally it’s a fun game to imagine where I might be, but sometimes my head goes to places that I wasn’t expecting and I can end up in some quite dark places. This poem sticks with the train theme that the original movie used and uses the idea of an out of control train that can’t be stopped once you’ve made that choice. Once you’ve picked the line that you re taking there is no going back. You just need to hold on tight and hope that you get to the end destination safely.
Do you have any moments in life where things could be different if you had done something other than what you did? Could your life have been better or worse? Have a think about it today…..
