Let me love you one day at a time

Let me love you one day at a time, and please love me that very same way. We may never learn all there is to know about love, but every day together will teach us a little more about ourselves and the special kind of happiness we can bring to each other. One of the best things you've helped me learn is that love starts with being honest, speaking straight from how we really feel. I like how we've opened doors, and windows of our lives and invited each other to come in, look around and get acquainted. The more I'm with you, the more at home I feel. Let me love you one day at a time.



Why talk about "always" and say things we're not sure we mean, when we can talk about today and mean exactly what we say. Let's think of each sunrise as a fresh start, a brand new beginning... and try to fill each day with as much love as it can hold. I know you're not always going to be exactly the same person Sunday through Saturday, January through December, and neither am I. We both need laughing times and crying times... and time for every mood in between. The important thing is that you can be the kind of you that feels most natural and that I can be my most favourite kind of me. That's what makes us so comfortable together... it's also what keeps us from taking too much for granted. Let me love you one day at a time.



Let's not wonder how long love will last but how beautiful we can make it grow. Let's give our best to each other but, let's never expect miracles of our love. There's no need to... the reality of you and me is better than all the impossible dreams and fantasies I've ever imagined. Being with you is feeling proud, blessed, grateful for each hour we share. Let me love you, not according to any how-to-book, or by someone else's set of rules... but simply for who you are and how you are with me. And please love me, not for what I might be moulded into, but for what I am here and now. Don't expect me to be someone all good and all giving, someone who could never disappoint you... someone to right to be real and too perfect to be me. I'm just as human as anyone I know... and very thankful that you are too. Let's try to remember that love means keeping in touch with each other's thoughts and feelings... listening not just to words, but to the emotions behind them... seeing, not just the smiles and frowns but the hurt and pleasures that cause them.



Let me love you one day at a time, starting today. Let's have the courage to try to change whatever needs changing about us, and wisdom to know what should never be changed. Believing in ourselves and in our ability to handle whatever tomorrow brings... and trusting that this love we share will continue to grow stronger as the future years unfold... One Beautiful Day At A Time.

A DYING BREED

I am 28 years old and I am growing up in a world of extremism. A rapidly growing outlet for anger has changed from exchanging of a few harsh words and holding of collars to a bullet. The only noticeable expression of a comfortable life has changed from healthy meals and shopping sprees once a month to setting up camp in malls, at least 3 cars for the two members of your family and an Armani wrist watch on your hand. The Jeans are getting shorter, the tops are getting lower, TV screens are getting bigger and religion no more echoes faith in anything larger than life but has become a business. The more we move towards the glowing light emitting from dollar bills and pounds, the blinder we are becoming to the littered streets of our nation. The more we get hypnotized by the sound of gold coins clinking together, the deafer we are to the voices of the poor. Money is no more a medium of payment to buy and sell goods. Instead, it has become a pass to neglect morality, social responsibility, law, heck even traffic lights. A pass “GUARANTEED BY THE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT” in case you have any legal reservations and stamped with Gandhiji’s smiling face on it in case you have any moral reservations. The world is tumbling into a pit of chaos and there is no gravity defying superhero in sight to save us.

But there is hope. And the realization of this hope can only come if people my age listen. Listen, learn and rectify. It seems as though the new parents, those in between the generation that my parents belong to and the generation I belong to, have relinquished responsibility and left parenting up to televisions and computers. Boundaries that are important to maintain a healthy growing atmosphere are becoming blurred because parents push their children to extremes to help them keep up with the extremism. In keeping up with school, extra tuition, football classes, dance classes, swimming classes, art classes, birthdays and endless banal social obligations, the time for parents to discipline and germinate a conscience in their children has disappeared. And it took the entire breed of distinguished parents who truly understood how to raise responsible human beings along with it.

But there is still hope. The hope is with you and me. Spend time with your children when you have them. Remember their birthdays because you’re happy they were born and not because it is an opportunity to flaunt your money by throwing a party. Buy them what they need, even occasionally what they want; don’t buy them everything. Don’t be embarrassed by their public tantrums and give in to their every demand. When they get their first job, don’t ask about the pay. Instead, pop down to Archie's and buy them a card. Don’t be afraid to hurt their feelings if you’re doing it for their own good. Give them pocket money not blank cheques. And most importantly, remember everything your parents did while raising you that annoyed you the most, and do it. They were the ones trying to salvage the dying breed. So listen to them, learn from them and then perhaps we can rectify the extremism we’re living in.

The Story of the Cliff

They’re tearing at me
Ghasty fingers crawl over my skin
Pulling.
“Come!” they cry
“We can fill that empty hole.”
Indeed there it is, where my heart should be there was a chasm
It was deep and the edges were sharp
Like it had been carelessly carved out
I put my hand to my chest
And felt the emptiness,
The dark substance-lacking air that filled that space
And still the fingers pulled
Pricking and tugging
Pulling my hair, pinching my skin
And I wept.
In front of me stretched the edge of a cliff.
It looked terrifying. Black rock, red backdrop.
The bottom was clouded in darkness.
And it was away from the edge these fingers pulled me.
“Come!” they cry
“This is dangerous. We want to protect you.
Come where it is comfortable and your heart will be filled.”
Oh, the struggle within. The choice seemed so easy. But a haunting song seemed to call me forward to the edge. While the fingers pulled me back.
Forces clashing armor against armor inside of me,
No white horses verses black horses.
All the knights were dressed the same,
Wolves in sheep’s clothing
But I couldn’t tell who was who
And it raged
And my insides ached
I grew weary from the conflict,
Weary of the noises.
I wanted to silence it all,
The haunting song and the voices that beckoned me backward.
I began to shut myself down, like a flashlight out of battery.
I numbed myself to all.
The fight doesn’t seem worth it, I thought.
So I sat down.
The fingers still pricked, but I didn’t feel them.
The cliff still called but I didn’t listen.
I just sat.
And sat.
And sat.
And sat.
Until one day I rose my hand to my chest and felt the hole that had been carved
And I ran my fingers around the edge,
The sharp, jagged edges
And it pricked me
I drew back my finger and a drop of blood rose to the skin.
And I had a feeling,
A thought.
A remembrance of what is was like to live engaged in the world.
I remembered the pain and the beauty and hurt and the joy
And all at once my ears were opened again,
And the noises were deafening.
My eyes opened and the ground was shaking
The world had not stopped as I had supposed.
It raged on.
It was chaotic, overpowering.
The fingers tugged,
“Come,” they cried
“Where there is no pain. We can take you there.”
The sirens song rose up from the cliff’s edge.
And I shook at the experience of it all.
My body trembled.
I tried to throw off the hands that clutched me.
And I ran to the edge,
Staring down into what seemed like nothingness.
It was uncertainty.
Jumping surly meant death.
I leaned over,
The voices growing frantic behind me,
Beckoning me to retreat
“Come back!” they cried
“Come back!”
“Why should I do this?!” I yelled into the cavern.
“Why should I choose this? What will you do about this hole in my chest?!”
I sobbed, emotions of desperation, fury, and hope pulsed through my veins.
“What do you want from me?!” I cried.
The haunting melody drifted up from the cavern.
I realized for the first time that there were words interlaced in the song,
Why hadn’t I heard them before?
They sang this:
“Die to self, Oh beloved
And learn to live again
Nothing can fill that hole
Or completely heal the pain within.
But We too have holes,
In our hands and our side
We suffered for you
Come, oh Bride
Prepare yourself
For Our kingdom is near
It is not man,
But it is us you should fear.
We won’t take all your pain away
We won’t make you whole
Not in this life anyway,
Can We complete your soul.
But We came to you to feel your pain,
To make each tear our own
If you take a chance with us,
You will never be alone.
We forgive your fear and yours sin are washed
If you decide to come,
It is hard,
But it’s truth
So, jump, beloved one.”
No promise of ease
Or of my desires being fulfilled came from the song that echoed through the rocks.
The ghastly fingers gripped harder,
Their voices stronger.
“Come!” they cried,
“We have a place with no pain.
We have a place with no sorrow!
Come!”
“Liars!” I screamed
And I jumped.