The Makings of a Man...

The Makings of a Man...

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

Every mother’s dream is to raise her son into a man. That objective, army service and a little help from fate is what is needed to accomplish her goal. However, army is service no longer compulsory, life doesn’t easily offer the most favourable (or unfavourable) circumstances and there is very time available for a mother to educate her boy into a man. Most of the male population of today rarely develop into full grown men.
Although they may be better groomed or better looking than their predecessors, they lack the mental and emotional development to handle the role of caregivers and providers that nature calls for. As women develop their leadership skills into becoming the providers of a family, I watch the male race allow their roles to be taken over without a fight.

I often read and write about the great accomplishments of being and becoming a woman. She is the multitasked, a mother, a sister, a friend, a career woman etc.
We often blind our attentions to the difficult task of being a man either because we’re too busy commending women on their efforts or because nowadays, we see so few men fulfilling their roles. Most of my male friends excel in virtues: the colleague, the listener, the fun loving guy, the dancer, the cowboy, the intellectual, the professional… however much they excel at their best abilities, I cannot consider them full grown men. To me, to be a man, it takes more than just possessing qualities and virtues…

I got a call this week from a friend I hadn’t heard from in a while. On catching up, it’s customary to ask about each other’s love life. I was disappointed, but not surprised that my friend is once again single after dumping a two week relationship. Notorious for dating girls endowed for modelling careers, he forgets that the kind of lifestyle that these girls live obliges them to see life a certain way… or not see life a certain way.
When I asked him why he’d broken up with the latest, he answered me that she wasn’t what he was looking for. What is it he looking for? – Miss Congeniality. Unfortunately somebody must’ve forgotten to warn him that Miss Congeniality does not come in the size and proportions that a super model comes in. The Miss Congeniality he is dreaming of can only be found beauty pageants (and that’s when she’s in front of the camera!). I told my friend that to find the girl he was looking for, he’d have to go to Toys ´R Us and look in the Barbie section.

Truth hurts and although my friend was humoured by my comment, somewhere deep down I believe that he honestly can’t deny that he can’t scratch past the surface of a woman. Of course men look for something more, we all look for a deeper meaning, something that touches base with our souls, but people (both men and women) have become superficial, losing touch with what really matters and not being able to see beyond the surface.

A true man can find the diamond in the rough. Even when it is invisible to the naked eye, he knows to trust his instincts that it exists and can be found. Patience is a virtue that will help him find it and faith keeps him trying until he does. A true man or woman is that because he or she has the insight to see beyond, and to see that which is right in front of him. He sees beauty where others overlook it and potential when others feel that all hope is lost. This is not to be mistaken for ambition for not only does he see the beauty and the pure but also the ugly and destructive. Yet, he chooses not to compromise or overlook reality. Instead he chooses not to turn his face from the ugly so that he may see the beauty as well.

A true man accepts reality for what it is, embraces its magnificence and respects its cruelty. He knows what he wants, because he knows what it is that he doesn’t. Searching for answers, he listens to advice and the words of the experienced though he makes his own decisions. He takes responsibility for his decisions, fully aware that every decision holds a consequence. He knows that every choice, every risk and every gain results in the loss of something. Keeping this in mind, our man faces the world with both determination and tenderness… for he knows the effort it takes to conquer the world and at the same time, appreciate its beauty and magnificence. As he worships life, so will he worship a woman in the same way. This is the person we all search for… the kind that knows, recognises and loves our flaws as much as our virtues. Isn’t it a pity that these men and women are virtually extinct?

People often fall in love with a person’s potential rather than the person’s being. We see what they are capable of, and fool ourselves into believing that it is that which they have already developed. This potential is easily visible by children for they are the ones that search for the better in people. However, as we grow older, this vision of potential can often prove disappointing and many of us choose to stop seeing the potential as we regard it for nothing more than an illusion. Those that keep looking beyond what a person is to what a person can be are considered to be either naïve or dreamers.

As a proud dreamer, I know that believing in someone is to risk high disappointment. Having potential does not necessarily mean fulfilling it. Often I am tempted to loose my faith but doing so would be an even bigger torture to my soul as my eyes would stop seeing the colours and contours in the world. So I keep faith even when hope seems to burn a fading flame. One of my dying beliefs is the existence of a man inside of a male… Today, I’m once again a believer.

I met this kid who played the guitar. Not only did he play it with soul and passion, he gave all his dedication to his musical instrument, transforming his deepest soulful thoughts into lyrical poetry. Seeing the world through his eyes and through his music was like looking through a pair of glasses that suddenly made the world around you clear and non-fuzzy. Inspired by his zest for life, one of my favourite memories is singing while he played his guitar. Looking at him I saw the potential within. I saw the musician and philosopher that he could become and the successful man that someday could make a woman happy. I saw a man in the making and I feared for his soul.
I feared that life would break his glasses and take away the vision he had of the world. I feared that the obstacles that life presented him with might shadow optimism and dampen his enthusiasm. I prayed that he’d always look at the world, people and women, the way he saw them then… with fascination, appreciation and respect. Above all, I begged life to keep intact his immense power and ability to love. I prayed that he would always have the ability to find love and beauty in everything he did and discovered.

It wouldn’t have been strange or surprising to have met a different person two years down the line. After all, time moulds us into the reality in which we need to face. He has less time for the guitar now and lives to study for a future career. Choosing a very technical and scientific field, it would not be strange that his thoughts and speech would now concentrate in his ambitions. And although all this is positive evolution, this area of life that he chose often involves changing the way he envisions the world.

I have no choice but to believe when the boy I once knew presents himself as a man in the making. Maturity is evident; however I find it incredible that his vision in the world has remained unaltered! Evolved – but unaltered. Life has not been able to cloud his visions of the world even though they may have become more difficult to accept. This man in the making still finds meaning in lyrics, therapy in music and beauty in everything he sees. I could not help but be impressed if not thankful and relieved. This is the kind of evolution I want for my little brother and I wondered if his mother was as proud of him as I was now that I speak to a mature man in the making…

To me a man (or a woman) is person who never stops believing. Because if there is hope, then there is always something to belief in and as long as there is something to believe in, there is never a reason to give up or raise a white flag. The intelligent man searches for answers and logic, the wise man searches for potential and transforms dreams and ideas into reality. Today I believe that out there are men in the making… and that mine is somewhere under construction or finding his way into our fate.

Easter Dinner

Easter Dinner

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

These are the days I live for. Watching a noisy family around a full table must be the most precious of God’s gifts to man. This is why I chose Madeira instead of any other place in the world. This is why I stay, for the opportunity to see them together. And as I watched them tonight, noisily around the table, arguing over who got to dish up first, I humbly thanked God for each and every member.

We raised a toast to Easter, to God and to his son who died to forgive our sins. My grandmother then raised a toast to my Grandfather who would’ve liked nothing more than to be there. When he was still alive, there was nothing that made him happier than to see his family together… any excuse is good enough. However, there wasn’t a seat missing. My cousin brought her steady boyfriend who for the first time was welcomed by our family. We laughed as we watched my uncles pass him through inspection. Their version of a thorough inspection is to give him several of my grandfather’s wine to taste. To pass this test, he may not refuse a glass and has to comment on how wonderfully good each wine tastes. Luckily we’d already warned the new member of the custom and he passed with flying colours.

Before dinner it is customary for all the ladies to go through their medical history and all the men go through their latest car adventures. The aunties all hover and help around the kitchen while the men talk in the wine cellar. My favourite place to be is between all my uncles in the wine cellar. I get passed on from one knee to another and every five minutes I get a kiss for fetching a glass or another plate with bread. The jokes and stories usually begin there but soon they infect onto the women and before you know it, we’re all sitting round the table sharing old stories and new jokes.

We raised a glass to the newcomer. It’s not easy to enter our family circle but once you’re in, you become a member for life. I thought of my dad who regardless of his divorce to my mother, still belonged to this family. My uncle in Brasil, the other in South Africa and the third in Venezuela were not there in body, but they were certainly there in spirit as childhood memories were passed from mouth to mouth. Of course, no Easter dinner is complete without desert and this is where the aunties are put to competition, to see who made the best desert. Compliments and recipe secrets are shared and promises for a new desert at the next family gathering.

This is why we work, we fight and we struggle: for precious moments with the people we love. I remember a time when I was far away from all of this and I prayed for the opportunity that I was living this evening. It’s not always easy when dealing with family. Things don’t always go right, opinions don’t always agree… however, it seems that at moments like these, all the differences melt away and we’re left with the warmth and love that makes up a family. Blessed is the man that can surround his table with family members, for love and family is what we all live and strive for.

I Love You

I Love You

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

He stared me deep in the eyes and held my hand tightly. I wanted to tell that I knew what he was thinking and that he didn’t have to say the words. But instead, I let them come through his heart and out his mouth.
“You’re so easy to love that it makes it hard to love anybody else…”

I knew that having me and his girlfriend in the same room wasn’t easy. It wasn’t because he’d have to confess that he once felt something for me, it was because he’d have to confess that he still felt something for me. I could feel it from across the room, and I sensed it each time he looked at me. I knew that my presence confused his mind and his heart at the same time.

I’ve learnt that true love is never ending and that the person you fall in love with today, you will still love in a hundred years from now. Love doesn’t disappear or diminish, it is merely your soul that changes and tells you that the love you feel is not the love your soul searches for. Nonetheless, it is love, pure and simple and felt each time you see him or think of him. I know this because there are those that I’m still in love with, long after the story has ended. The confusion and chaos ended when I accepted my feelings understanding them for what they truly are. My heart loves them even though it does not choose them as its owner. I understood this when last year I saw my high school sweetheart in a different light. I looked at him and knew that I still loved him, that I always would but deep down I knew that I didn’t want to spend my life with him... that’s when I knew, that true love lasts forever and accompanies you your whole life through.

What hadn’t occurred to me at that stage, hit me like a ton of bricks this evening when I looked into his eyes. Here was the kind of guy I’d been dreaming about: kind, understanding, intelligent and with a great sense of humour. At first when he demonstrated interest in me, I’d been ecstatic, but as time passed on, I realized that there was something missing. We got along great, shared the same interests and ideas but lacked the magical pull that brings two lips together and so… to his disappointment, I decided not to push our friendship for any further relationship. It had been so hard at that time because I knew that he was the kind of partner I searched for, but I felt that there was a magical ingredient missing. Love is what I lacked for him and no matter how much he said that he felt it for me, I simply could not fabricate from my being what did not come out my heart. And this is where things had been left since I last laid eyes on him.

And now here he was, alone with me on the terrace looking and smelling like the kind of man you grab without thinking twice and looking at me with the eyes of a man who was ready to give up everything to try again. He looked at me through the eyes of a tormented soul, confessed his love for his girlfriend and then his confusion for the way his heart beat when he looked at me. I said nothing and let him finish, I hoped, that he’d come to the answers on his own. Instead, he told me that I was easy to love and made it hard for him to love someone else. Why? Because we feel that we cannot love two people at the same time. We believe that to love one person, we first need to let go of another. Silly are we to believe that the heart only has room to love one person. I needed to tell him what he soul needed to know. I needed to tell him that his heart was big enough to love many even though it was only capable of choosing one to pledge its true loyalty.

I must’ve confused him with the look in my eyes because I’d be lying if I told him that I didn’t love him. Is he the man for me… No.
But I did love him. I love the way he smiled and the way he spoke and the person he is and the person he will one day become. I love the way he twirls my hair in his fingers, the cologne he wears and the nicknames he gives me. I love the way he sees beyond the sky, beyond today and plans his future for tomorrow. I love the way he fights for what he believes in, the way he fights for those he loves and the way he quietly creeps his way into the hearts of those who meet him. Yes, I do love this man even though it isn’t him that my heart chooses to pledge itself to.

I told him this and hoped he’d understand, I hoped that my words didn’t confuse him even more and that he didn’t think me strange. But somehow he understood and we were both left with the most gigantic feeling of relief. The relief of a heart given permission to love. As I watched him go back to his girlfriend and kiss her with all his soul, I knew deep down that I loved him even more and couldn’t be happier that he’d found a partner to share his days with. Did I feel a little jealous that he no longer belonged to me? I guess I could have but I didn’t, because I know that a small part of him will always belong to me.

Tonight, it occurred to me that we fall in love various times in our lives. The childhood sweetheart, the boy next door, the teacher, the work colleague and the best friend’s boyfriend. They are people that we fall in love with but who our hearts keep as special friends. Perhaps the reason that I’m so easy to love, is because I love so easily. I’ve met people that I’ve fallen in love with in the instant that I meet them, people that I carry around in my heart. I feel lucky to love these people, because even in the absence of a life partner, I always feel loved.

To like somebody is human, to love somebody is divine.

Love Always,
Sunshine.

Sunshine On Wheels

Sunshine On Wheels

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

I recommend picking up old habits. Cleaning out my cupboard I rediscovered a pair of rollerblades that I hadn’t worn in almost two years. I recall the day I bought them! My friend had gotten herself a skateboard and I bought myself the pair of blades so I could join her with wheels on the pier. On that hot summer, we skated well into the night, under the stars. Tourists would move out the way to let us through and we’d race to see who went fastest. I recall teaching myself to skate backwards whilst my friend tried learning some tricks on the skateboard. Some young guys, who obviously knew more about the subject than we did, took pity on our feeble attempts and even tried teaching us how to ride up and down the skateboard ramp. Needless to say… we never did reach professional level.

The ramp is gone now; they tore it down to build up a hot air balloon space in order to attract more tourists. My friend no longer skates, she had to give it up when she fell pregnant unexpectedly and with no partner to skate with me, my blade’s found themselves a place in my cupboard. Nobody that I know skates, in fact, I can’t think of anyone who’s even willing to try… excepting my baby brother! He still had a pair of roller skates that my father had bought for him before he left South Africa and as far as I knew… they still fit him!

I got odd stares when climbing on the bus, the old ladies commented on how I’d probably break my neck and the guys behind me whispered between them. I could hear them ask each other if they knew who I was, which school I was from and if the blades were really mine. I smiled. It pleased me to think that on weekends, in my jeans and t-shirt, I still managed to pass off for a high school kid. Before getting off the bus, I couldn’t resist turning around, telling them my name and informing them that I finished school four years ago… oh and yes, the blades were definitely mine. They smiled and told me that I should enjoy myself. One of them suggested I wear a helmet but I told him that I liked living my life on the edge. It was their laughter that gave me the courage to step onto the pier on my own, well aware that many curious pairs of eyes were upon me.

Sitting on a bench, I took off my shoes and proceeded with tightly tying the blades to my feet. The tighter they are the better control and confidence you have as you know they won’t fall off your feet easily. My little brother arrived shortly after I tied my right lace; he sat down next to with a million dollar smile and thanked me for having thought up the idea of a morning skating on the pier. I was glad to have him next to me, it’s not that I couldn’t skate on my own but the fact that skating alone means you have no one to share the experience with. Where’s the point in that?

At first, it felt like my legs didn’t belong to me. They wobbled a bit until I got used to the wheels under my feet. Moving my feet from side to side, I began to move forward and before I knew it, I was zooming past tourists with my little brother not too far behind. The people that were staring faded away as my brother and I jumped over cracks on the floor and skated backwards. Skating is like riding a bike, once you’ve learnt, you never forget. At one point, a flash of a camera caught my attention and I realized that at some point my brother and I had become a tourist attraction. People smiled and some cheered us on and my brother and I bowed for our audience of five elderly tourists who were amused with our fun.

When we were tired of speeding and tricks, we decided to take a long ride to the end of the promenade and back. It took us an hour to reach the end and come back. In the beginning my little brother updated me on his adventures but on the way back we skated silently, merely enjoying the feeling of the turning wheels under our feet.

As I rode, my mind wandered. I looked out onto the ocean and saw sailing boats. They reminded me of a young sailor and his family that had sailed into our harbour two years ago. He had been the best thing that had happened to me and my friend that summer. In a mere week, we’d had the time of our lives. He taught me the meaning of skurfing and I taught him the words to “You can leave your hat on”. I haven’t heard from him in a while, he had been sixteen and charming at the time. I wished that I could see him now, how he is, how he thinks and wondered if he still sings to himself “Why can’t we be friends?”. There are no more words to that song… you just keep repeating it over and over until someone gets annoyed: “Why can’t we be friends”.
I’ve learnt that people come and go and that we must accept that some people we’ll never see again. I accept and understand that concept and I’m thankful for the time he spent with me and for the wonderful memories he left behind but I couldn’t help wishing as I skated to be given the opportunity to see him… even if it were from a distance, just to make sure things turned out okay.

Feeling the warm sun on my face and the breeze in my hair, I could’ve sworn that I died and gone to heaven… until seconds later when I found myself on my ass, spread out on the floor.
“Ouch that must’ve hurt!”
As always, just as you get too comfortable or confident in life… it makes sure that you fall on your ass! I had been so concentrated on blue skies and the sound of the waves crashing that I hadn’t noticed the water on the floor and slipped as I’d skated over it.
A handsome guy dressed in blue jeans and a black Adidas shirt helped me back on my feet. I tried to hide my embarrassment by telling him that it had been my first fall of the day. Laughing at me he pointed out that my pants were all wet and I before I finished wondering where the water came from, a big wave crashed on the rocks and poured onto the promenade, splashing the both of us.
“So that’s where it came from!” we both laughed as we shook the droplets off our shirts. I forgot completely about my brother and wondered why on earth it had taken me so long to come out skating. But before I could think of anything else to say to the stranger, a very jealous girlfriend that held two ice creams on cones whisked him away.

Laughing, I reminded myself that when things felt too good to be true, than it’s probably because they were! My little brother appeared from nowhere irritated that I had fallen behind and strongly advised me to get more practice. I laughed and told him that I couldn’t agree more!

My morning ended with a scratched knee, bruised buttocks and wind styled hair. However along with the ice cream as rewards, my brother and I took home the most exhausted but happy, million euro smiles!

I recommend doing something you haven’t done in a long time. I recommend behaving like a child. I recommend playing. I recommend joking and laughing. I recommend adventuring. I recommend losing yourself in the day and in time and, I recommend skating side by side someone you care about.

Catching a Glimpse

Catching a Glimpse...

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

Beware of the quiet shy ones… you never know what it is that they’re really thinking. Why are women mislead into believing that the quiet men are the faithful and dependable kind? This of course works both ways. Why do men think that the quiet and shy girls are the kind that you marry or take home to meet your family?

Whilst loudmouths don’t always share what they’re truly feeling, you however always get a good idea of what and how they think by what they tell you. In this way, you can have a more solid feel of where you stand with them. With time, you learn to listen to what they don’t tell you, or the meaning behind the words that pronounce a different meaning. However, their opinions are easier to discover than of that one that tells you nothing.

But the quiet guy is different, not only is it hard to extract any kind of information from him, you’re always left with the sensation that he didn’t finish what he had to say, as if he thinks more than he’s willing to tell you. Some women find this attractive; in fact, some are even willing to get married just to find out what he was thinking… some of course never find out.

I find that people cannot be understood merely by what they tell or don’t tell you. It isn’t always the words or lack of that defines the person you’re looking at. The soul lies in the hidden depths of the person, its window is the eyes and its nature takes observation and the desire to know and understand to be recognized and understood.

Being inquisitive… and flirty. I enjoy the challenge of getting under someone’s skin… of finding out what makes them tick and pressing their buttons. I find that the best way to get a talker to tell you something serious is to present him with silence. He’ll want to fill that void so badly, that he’ll have to dig somewhere more sincere to respond. Try it with someone you know… most blabbermouths can’t handle silence. They’ll be singing like canaries eventually.

Silence doesn’t work on the quiet types… they know how to manage the quiet. In fact, they live off it. You’ll see them as the observers at corners at a party, or the listeners in a group conversation. You mostly get straight, short answers to the questions you face them with or stuttering if it’s a question they weren’t expecting. It takes some observation from your part to find out something that makes them tick and then drop the open question that gets them talking: example:
“Oh you like fishing! So tell… how can one include fishing on the perfect date?”…
This of course might lead to a long tedious explanation on which case, I advise to find a common interest before engaging in such an experiment!

I see him almost everyday. Belonging to a big company that often does business with us, he is sent almost everyday to take and fetch documents and contracts. Quiet and reserved, I’ve been tempted in the last two years to rock his shy boat by asking him how his weekend was or if he’d happened to catch that latest movie. He can’t be younger than twenty however he reminds me of a shy church choir boy at the way he drops his glance to avoid my questions. Some may call my attentions cruel for my personal amusement or even as flirtatious… I do confess that it is quite amusing to see him blush or avoid my questions. However, neither are my intentions, lets just say I’m pushing buttons until I press something right. It was on a day that I wasn’t attentive that I was caught off guard to a reaction! This week being left alone in the office for a morning, I smiled as he walked through the door and then complained that I’d been abandoned by my colleagues! I’m not sure which of his remarks surprised me the most, the fact that he answered me that I couldn’t possibly be alone now that he’d arrived or that he’d willingly stay and keep me company if he could. This was my turn to turn bright pink! One sweet smile from someone who could barely look me in the eyes told me that somewhere along the line I broke a barrier. A barrier called professionalism between strangers. Looking each other in the eyes, I confirmed that feeling and sensed that from now on, he would be a little less formal. After he left I sat in wonder, trying to capture the exact moment that I’d gotten through to him and then was pleased with the fact that I’d seen his smile for the first time!... Mission Accomplished? Hell no! I’m only getting started… next week I’m going to see if I can get him to crack a joke!

Never give up on someone! Sometimes we see the potential in people but we give up on them too soon. Believe! Believe in people as you wish them to believe in you. This doesn’t require you to go give the best of yourself; it simply requests you to share the good in you. A smile and a greeting are such simple gestures that go such a long way… try it out on someone until something good happens.

Experience

Experience

carla.ornelas@gmail.com
On writing another application letter to accompany my curriculum vitae, I asked myself the following question: What experience of life do I have? I recall a conversation with my boss about experience and told him that life and time is a teacher and that some things cannot be taught by an educational system. Being a proud graduate he then said to me that no matter how useless a graduate it, he will always be a problem solver whilst the uneducated man is lucky if he finds out the answers. What I responded was what caused the first tension between the two of us: the education the graduate receives obligates him to solve problems whilst the uneducated man that learns on his own becomes an experienced, self-educated intellectual. These are my experiences:

I’ve tickled my little brother to keep him from crying.
I’ve burnt my fingers playing with candles and my heart when playing with fire.
I’ve blown big bubbles with gum that burst and got all over my face and hair.
I’ve galloped a horse, ridden a car over 200km\hr and bungee jumped
I’ve spoken to my mirror and sang to my hairbrush.
I’ve wanted to become a doctor, a singer, a veterinarian and a teacher.
I’ve hidden behind curtains, under blankets and under my clothes.
I’ve told jokes, pulled pranks and laughed until my tummy ached.
I’ve walked in the rain, swam in the ocean under the stars and drowned in my own tears.
I’ve caught a stare, stolen a kiss and gotten feelings mixed up.
I’ve walked down the wrong path, the right path and continue into the unknown path
I’ve opened the door of an empty refrigerator and sat down to a plentiful table.
I’ve missed the bus, cut my finger with a knife and tripped on my shoe laces.
I’ve cried over a song, watching a movie and with a friend.
I’ve regretted, I’ve apologized, I’ve forgiven and forgotten and learnt that something’s and some people are simply unforgettable.
I’ve climbed trees, climbed mountains, reached my goals, reached my deadlines and reach for the stars.
I’ve been a fan, I’ve been a follower and I’ve been inspired
I’ve kept secrets, made promises and given advice.
I’ve stood silent, screamed at the top of my lungs and cried on my bathroom floor.
I’ve ran away and I’ve run back home, I will to stay as much as I will to go.
I’ve wiped tears, offered my shoulder and ran to be with someone that needs me.
I’ve feared the dark; I’ve feared the unknown and feared fear itself.
I’ve felt alone in a large crowd and felt special in the presence of one amazing person.
I’ve seen the stars shining brightly, sunrises; sunsets and the days go by on my calendar.
I’ve put my head to sleep wishing I’d never wake up and lay in the bathtub with my head underwater not wanting to come up again.
I’ve tasted the sweetest kiss and the sourest regret.
I’ve drunk too much and got put into bed; I drank even more and felt sober.
I’ve said goodbye to old friends and welcomed new friends into my life.
I’ve felt at home in cold city and out of place in a familiar town.
I’ve believed in people, in angels and in myself.
I’ve written amazing things, said wonderful speeches and been at a loss for words.
I’ve trembled in someone’s arms and held someone in my embrace.
I’ve died of a broken heart and revived with the smile of someone special.
I’ve slept late and woken up in the middle of the night.
I’ve made bets and taken up dares.
I’ve told secrets and lies to keep a friend from getting hurt.
I’ve had forever end, and an unlikely friendship become eternal.
I’ve lain in the green grass and lost myself in a book.
I’ve cried hard at goodbyes and even harder at hellos.
I’ve stayed up late with my best friend just talking.
I’ve come home at 6am to lemonade and cold pizza.
I’ve lay in hot beaches, sat in the mountains, sludged in the mud and played in the snow.
I’ve held a little baby in my arms, a frightened child and a broken man.
I’ve shared ideas; I’ve shared my thoughts and shared my dreams.
I’ve won, I’ve failed, I’ve tried.
I’ve persevered; I’ve given up and motivated others into trying.
I’ve hated, I’ve regretted and I’ve loved.
I’ve lived, I live and I’ll keep on living.

Experience is a matter of perspective, you cannot predict a person’s abilities by what they went through, and rather you learn their capacities by watching them try. A book is only a book when it has an ending. In the school of life, you only graduate the day you leave inside a coffin.

7 Days

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

Being an inquisitive child, I often annoyed adults by asking those kinds of questions that have no answer or takes a million textbooks to explain. I recall on one hot summer day my father cutting up an old table and making it into a desk for me to study on. As we varnished the table together I grew restless and decided that the only way I was going to get him talking was to ask him one of those questions that would get him talking for hours.
“If happiness is made up out of moments, how do you know when you’re living one? How do you know when you’re happy?”
Not in the mood for words and annoyed that I was letting the varnish streak thanks to my slow progress, dad summed it all up in one sentence:
“You know you’re happy when you’re not sad”
Irritated that he had cut me off with one of those answers that kill the question I added persistence to my question: “I’m not sad right now; does this mean I’m happy?”
Dad didn’t answer me, nor did he have to… the conversation ended there and only recommenced at dinner.

On Monday, I walked onto the bus and wished the bus driver a good morning; I was startled when someone from front seat of the bus called out my name. I turned to see the blind boy I’d often spoken to when he was my client. Blind since birth, his senses had developed very acutely and he would often come into the store so that I could teach him something new on the cellphone that I’d sold him. Some people didn’t know how to do half the things he knew about his Nokia 3310. It must’ve been almost two years since I last saw him, since I’d been moved up to the offices.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I smelt your perfume, its vanilla… oh, and I recognized your voice of course”
I sat next to him as he told me about how he was going to town to hand in his lottery ticket; he’d won €12 and was mighty happy with himself. I asked him what he would do if he’d won the jackpot instead and with excitement on his face, he told me about the computer he would buy… not just any computer: a computer with very expensive software especially made for blind people. I simply cannot imagine not being able to see. My soul would shrivel and die if I could not see the colours of the sky, the world around me and the eyes of the people I love. I thanked God for contact lenses and the fact that I can see through them and even though it was Monday, I thanked God for my five senses.

On Tuesday, I stepped onto the bus wishing that I’d gotten under it instead of on it. A long day at work had drained the life out of me. My hands were tattooed red from the heavy bags I carried from the supermarket and my only joy was the fact that there was a seat open on the bus that I could sit on! As I sat down I noticed the toddler sitting in the seat in front of me. His mother wasn’t paying much attention as he stared at me from the piece of apple he was eating. Exhausted, I was slightly grateful that I didn’t have one of those waiting from me at home, from the smell coming from his diaper; he needed at little more attention than I was willing to give… And so I smiled, and he smiled back. So I pulled my tongue out at him and he laughed. I then put my hands on his chair and he laughed as he tried to smack them before I took them away. Today I couldn’t hear the buss’s engines because all I heard was the giggling and laughter of a happy toddler. Before I got off the bus, I decided that maybe having one of those at home could be rejuvenating rather than exhausting.

On Wednesday I got home, stripped to my socks and sang to my hairbrush to Jennifer Lopez’s new song. I hit a high note, I danced… and I slipped whilst doing a double turn in my socks. I fell asleep on my couch after dancing the equivalent to a week’s aerobics’ class and the last thought that went through my mind was how lucky I was to have bought an apartment with double, soundproof walls and windows.

On Thursday, I called my new client to let him know that I had everything set for him to sign. Before I could tell him who was calling he identified me saying that my voice was unmistakable. Two hours later when he came knocking on my door, I identified him before he could ask me if I was the person he was looking for. When he asked me how I knew I simply answered that his voice was also unmistakable. Twenty minutes later, I’d earned a new contract, a new client and a cup of coffee. While I drank my coffee, I realized how grateful I was, that most of my clients were people.

On Friday, I walked into the cafeteria surprised to find that my boss had decided to have lunch with the simpletons. Having reserved the special menu for the day, I was well aware that anyone that hadn’t reserved the preferred dish (codfish with cream) would be eating the liver. Standing behind me in line, it became clear to me that my boss would not be eating the preferred dish. He had forgotten to reserve just as he’d forgotten to inform me that he would be on holiday as from Monday, it seemed just fair that he reaped the rewards of his lack of consideration. But just as it was my turn, I asked the cook to take a share from my plate and from my colleagues and like magic, there was suddenly codfish with cream for my boss’s lunch. He sheepishly thanked me and my colleagues and I was grateful to God that I was still able to share with someone who had more than me.

On Saturday there was a dinner and a party to go to. Running late as usual, I was still in my towel when my friend rang at my door. To add frustration to the shortage of time, I went into a fashion crisis and tried on five tops before finally settling with the brown one that I’d been wearing frequently. My friend watched me as clothes flew in and out the cupboard and sighed. Her baby hadn’t let her sleep that morning and weariness was evident on her face. She sat on my bed and for an instant I caught her empty look staring back at me. Men will never comprehend the power of make up! All it took was the heart shaped chain my brother had given me, my favourite blue eye shadow, some mascara and some lip gloss to bring out the radiance from her soul onto her face. I sat in wonder at how little it actually takes to bring out the life and energy in a person.

Today I watched my cousin walk away, after experimenting in the kitchen; we had a great lunch that followed with a movie I’d been dying to watch ever since I’d read the book. Message in a bottle by Nicholas Sparks had been one of my favourite books and Kevin Costner certainly did justice to the main character: Garret Blake. There were moments of joy, laughter, sadness and romance. I was glad to see it and even gladder that my cousin was here to see it with me. As I gave her a hug goodbye I was glad that I no longer had to travel oceans just to be with her and that most of my family was a phonecall away.

I lay alone in my bed… I switched off the TV, the radio and the computer. The washing machine is off and phones aren’t ringing… there’s absolute silence. I block out the voices in my head one by one until the only one I can hear was my own. As I stare at the red liquid metamorphoses in my lava lamp, I try to find pictures from the round shapes it makes. There is no song I want to hear, no movie I want to see and nobody I want to talk to, I’m content with simply laying here with my chin on my hands watching my lava lamp. I read somewhere that to appreciate time, you should end the day by crossing out the date on the calendar and saying to yourself “There went another day of my life that I’ll never get back”. Keeping this in mind, I thank God for the week that went past and hoped that if the following week wasn’t any better than the last than that at least it should be filled with magic moments like those that happened this week that went by. Before I fall asleep, I’ll ask myself if I was happy this week and then I’ll reply “Well Sunshine, you weren’t sad and so therefore, you must’ve been happy.”

On my 100th post on this site, I simply could not think of a better way to celebrate it than with a post on which I could celebrate the very essence of my being… Happy Woman’s day, for every day is truly ours…

Woman´s Day

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

A day especially set to remember these incredible creatures that are a part of our lives. I thought of the great women I know, great writers, singers and actresses: women with talent and expression. I thought of the not so famous women such as grandma, mom, my aunts, my teachers and work colleagues: each with their own individual personalities and womanly contributions. Then I thought about all the great women I didn’t know, women that suffer daily in the midst of wars and poverty, career women, poor women, mothers with children to love and feed; women who submit to strict social rules and women who strive for equality and respect. After thinking about all these women: I felt very small in the world.

The most I’d gotten from my male colleagues were grumbling noises about how men should also have a day for them. I didn’t even bother to argue their feeble protests. To me this was just another day, another opportunity for hypocrites to pretend to cherish their women and another chance for many women to once again feel unappreciated and forgotten. It saddened me that even with so much evolution in the world; women are still suppressed and underestimated in society, family and the workplace.

I once sang Britney’s “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman” song with feeling and recognition. I knew then that I was somewhere in between and on this day, I asked myself what it is that makes me so sure that I’m no longer a girl and already a woman?

I suppose I could trust my friend’s judgment when not too long ago we saw each other for the first time in months and immediately he remarked “There’s something different about you, you’re more of a woman”
It felt true at the time but it cannot confirm the answer to my question, so I tried figuring it out on my own.
I pay my own bills, make my own choices and take responsibility for the changes in my life… is this what makes me a woman or is this merely what makes me independent?
There are skirts in my closet, make-up in my bathroom and high heels on my shoes… is this what makes me a woman or what makes me feminine?
My skin is soft and sensitive, my brassiere indicates that I have breasts and the fact that I’m required to visit a gynecologist… is this what makes me a woman or does this simply prove that I’m equipped for mating and bearing children?

What makes me a woman?
Is it that monthly cycle? My long hair? My interest in angels and butterflies? My fear of spiders? My voice, my touch?

I found my answer under the warm spray of water in my shower. It isn’t just the curves I possess, or the physical features that tell the world that I am a woman. It is my soul, the way I see and feel about the world. The way the water runs down my back, sticking my hair to my skin as if I was enveloped by my own soft curtain. It’s the way I feel when I see the flickering of a candle or when I smell the scent of something sweet. When a man looks at a plate, he sees food whilst I see nourishment. When a man looks at a house, he sees shelter and protection, I see a home. It’s not what I see, but the way I see it. It’s not how I react, but how I feel. It’s not what I do, but how I do it… this is where the difference is between the sexes. This is what makes me a woman.

Yes, without a doubt, being a woman is worth celebrating! So I called my mother, my aunt, and my best friends and decided to make it a girl’s night out. The age gap did nothing to upset the amazing woman’s night out. Our conversations involved ripping off the guys and congratulating ourselves for being survivors in a man’s world. It felt great to be in the midst of some of the women I most admired, it was their joy and laughter that soothed my soul. Watching them laughing over a glass of wine and strawberries with cream, I felt honoured to have them in my kitchen and be their presence. Going wild on the dance floor, we cheered each other on forming a big circle of women that no outside male was allowed to penetrate. Letting the music guide our souls, I watched as pure feminine spirit was celebrated and for those hours that I was with them, I didn’t feel so alone in my battles with the world.

In the man’s world that we live in, I’m proud to be a woman.

He Love Me, I Love Him Not...

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

I once thought that the most crushing defeat a person can feel is being rejected by someone they love. Time and experience showed me that being the person doing the rejecting, can have an even more devastating crush…

Love cannot be found where it does not exist, nor hidden where it does.

He is charming, dedicated, funny and charismatic. He loves the same movies and music and shares your interests. Your friends love him, your family loves him and he worships the ground you walk on… only you are out of love.
They say you should marry your best friend so that one day when the passion is gone, you are left with a companion that makes you happy…
What in the hell do they know?!
Being with someone you admire but don’t love should be one of the biggest sins a human being can commit. If God rewrote the 10 commandments, I believe that this kind of treachery would be in the top 10.

It is absolute cruelty to both you and to the person you’re with to try and feign the feelings that make your heart beat, your blood boil and the world go round. To kiss lips without feeling, to be made love to without spirit and to say the words that don’t come out your heart is the same as digging the grave to your soul. As the days go by, you feel like something commercially made into what society sees as acceptable. Because he is good and he will provide, you are the winner of the perfect mate. He shall protect you, love you and cherish you and you are bound by duty to feel grateful.
Where is the love?
Where is the meaning in a relationship without sincerity?… because truth is not just a form taken by words. Truth is in the look in our eyes and in the touch we offer another human being. Truth is not what comes from our minds but what is portrayed by our souls.
To be with someone without loving them makes you: deceitful, dishonest, a liar and superficial.

So why do we do it? Why do we get involved with people we’re not in love with? Last night I was asked why it was that I was single. Without any hesitation I told the person that I loved my single status and that I did need nor want a man in my life. This scientifically intellectual’s answer shocked me into silence. She told me that at my age I am at my sexual prime and that my body physically craved a male. No matter how I denied it, on a subconscious level I craved the ideal partner. She went on to explain that this was the reason that most marriages failed after a few years; because once a man has spread his seed and made sure his mate was okay, he would then look for someone else with that chemistry that drives him to spread his seed again. This is why men have a hard time being faithful and why women fall for the wrong guys, because on a subconscious level we’re only looking for a good seed, or better said: a good lay.

I listened to her with great attention and without interrupting. The scientific reality of her argument felt like a bucket of cold ice water being thrown on my head. I couldn’t deny the truth is her facts but neither could I find the whole truth in her analyses. I closed my eyes and searched deeper before answering her. Although I respect her opinion, I simply could not agree. The difference between us and animals is the fact that we do not work on a subconscious level and yes have the power of choice and decision. I believe that whilst our minds and hormones rule our animal instincts, it is our hearts, our souls that makes us human. I confessed to her that I could not deny my deepest desire to have a man by my side, loving, caring and protecting me. That my body wanted to practice the Karma Sutra in the name of desire and procreation… but that my basic physical needs simply could not satisfy my soul’s.
I need and want more than sex. I want a partner in life; someone that I can share more than my bed with. Someone who I may not need to live and survive, but do not want to survive or live without. When the passion is gone, love must still be there. This is why I’m single; this is why I’m alone, because I will not settle for anything less than real love.

So this is why we do it, we get involved with people we’re not in love with. It isn’t just animal instinct, or the body’s desire to be physically pleasured, it’s because we feel the need to be loved, to be cherished and to be fulfilled. We want this so much that we’re willing to believe that the person who shares our interests can provide the love we need. It is a sad beginning of the end when we alter a friendship into a relationship that doesn’t share love from both parties. We allow ourselves to mistaken the friendship for something more, we so badly want to be loved that we fool ourselves into believing that love is what we’ve found in that person. Eventually time brings up the mirror and there is no denying the emptiness felt when we realize that friendship is no substitute for love.
Then comes the panic, the suffocating feeling that if we choose to continue as such, we sign our own death warrant. This isn’t just an asshole that we can do without, this is someone we care about who’s heart you’re about to break with the truth. Not everyone can face this truth, some people live this lie for years, some even die with this deception all so that we don’t hurt that other person who we do not love but deeply care about.

To hold on to someone that loves you but that you don’t love in return is to deny them and yourself the chance to find someone that can return their love. They will cry, they will hurt but they will be blessed with the chance of finding their true love.

We hurt when someone else hurts at our hands. The worst kind of guilt is that when you cause pain to someone without the intention to. We all know the feeling of rejection, of heartbreak and so why cry with those we have hurt and deceived.

It is so hard to wake up to an empty bed. Independence comes at such a high price when you have no one to share your blessings with. There are days on where I ask God to take away all my worldly possessions for the chance to share a blanket under a bridge with someone that I can share my love with. Every year whilst the fireworks explode announcing the beginning of a new chapter, I always ask that this be the year on which I find that one person to share all my years with. However, there is no greater loneliness and emptiness than the one felt when standing by a person that you are not in love with. And so I choose my single status and wait for something more than just physical chemistry. This I do, not just for myself but for the men that I care about am not in love with.

They say there is a hat for every head, a lid for every pot and a mate for every soul. If this is true why settle for second best, or deny someone to their chance of finding that person? I pray you all find the love that your heart seeks…
May the one you hold be the one you want, the one you need and most importantly, the one you love.

So Ham - I Am

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

I am a woman; I possess the strong touch and resilience to manage and protect all that I have and hold dear to me.
I am a professional: Responsibility and dedication makes me an asset to my company.
I am a friend: With the strength and the compassion to embrace, listen and advise the people that accompany me in my life.
I am a sister: The source of love and understanding and the person to count on when no one else can help.
I am the colleague, I am the nurse, I am the daughter, I am the lover, the fighter, the leader, the helper, the cousin, the politician, the lawyer, the singer… I am all that I want to be…
I simply am.

I love the ocean. I too am an ocean of things, the strong, wide and mighty ocean. When the life of storms and winds touch me, I toss and turn but I survive. I am a crucial part of life, motherly enough to nourish and grow that which lives from me and mighty enough to destroy that what gets in my way. When all else is past and forgotten, I will exist, even if it’s only in the heart of those that I touched. My love, like my water is ceaseless, not even in times of drought will I completely disappear. I am as inconstant as the moon… my tides differ with its pull yet, in the same way, I carry a dependable consistency as its cycles…

When coming across such a personality, you know immediately that they are indestructible, that life, the world and society can never break the core of that person’s soul. With time, you watch that person overcome hurt, heartbreak, disappointment, frustration, wounds and every kind of damage possible to the human being’s soul. They seem to bounce back from every defeat, from every loss and every failure. We admire them and eventually recognise them in our own mirrors.

I am the sea of all seas and I began with one drop of water, a stream that flowed into a river that survived evaporation to grow into the vast strength that is me… the ocean. I am but one drop of water.

What does a soldier do when the war is over? What is the use of walls when they no longer serve their purpose, when there is no need to defend and fight? Life is a constant battle to those who fight it, yet who do we really fight against if not ourselves?
When you no longer need to protect or defend yourself, do you take the time to heal? Do you cry all the tears that you couldn’t afford to cry during battle? Do you scream the words you felt when you got hurt? Do your hold yourself; comfort yourself for all those times that your soul needed it? Do you push people away when they try to heal your wounds for you?
When do you let go your sword, lay down your weapon and let your guard down? You who have fought and conquered your space, your personality and your freedom, have you learnt to enjoy and live that gain? My fellow survivors, when all is fought and won, do you know how to live what you’ve survived?
The world does not change for the growth of an individual; the individual grows with the changes of the world. When we change our thoughts and attitude, we learn the things we already know.

I no longer see life as a battlefield, instead I see at as a dance floor where people dance out their dreams, their hopes and their expectations. The Deejay does not always play my favourite songs; every now and then my feet will hurt and ache; sometimes I feel more alone and other times too crowded. At times I am surrounded by people dancing, other times no one wants to dance with me. My partner may not always understand my rhythm or I his, one of us or both of us may step on each other’s toes and yet… I’ll keep on dancing. I will always love dancing, I will not allow myself to stop feeling the music and I choose not to sit out of any dance. If you choose to step out, you may loose the opportunity to dance the perfect dance. Eventually every evening comes to an end and the only memories you remember in the morning are those of how well you danced that night. That moment, that perfect move, the sway and that turn makes every other hard, difficult, painful and awkward moment worthwhile.

It is impossible to win without having known what it is to lose.
It is impossible to walk without knowing what it is to fall.
It is impossible to be right without knowing what it is to be wrong.
It is impossible to live without knowing what it is to really live.

I am a human being that makes mistakes, learns and grows. I am too proud to admit my fears, too scared to show my weaknesses, too stubborn to acknowledge flaws and doubt. Does admitting that I’m afraid really make me any less courageous or brave than I am?
I am a woman: that longs for all things soft and beautiful, dreams and hopes and prays. That wants for the love and strength found in her lover’s arms and the love and dependency of a child’s embrace.
I am a friend: needing to share my thoughts and ideas, seeking encouragement to advance with my projects.
I am the sister: who cherishes each loving hug and gesture as the building blocks to my heart’s happiness.
I am the fire, I am the water, I am the air, I am the earth, the seductress, the teacher, the child, the doctor, the partner, the writer, the dancer, the moonlight, the sunshine…
I simply am.

Why Me?

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

Because you’re alive!!!
My father once told me that I must accept my share of responsibility for everything that may or may not happen in my life. This means that each time you make a decision or adapt a certain attitude; you must be prepared to deal with the consequences!

Why do they pick on me?… have you ever tried standing up for yourself?
Why am I always the one getting the crappy jobs?... Have you ever said no? When are you going to start looking for a better job?
Why does everything I do go wrong?... Why are you always repeating the same mistakes when you know that they get you now where?
Why am I the constant door mat?... When are you going to stop allowing people to take advantage of you?
Why does nobody love me?... Have you taken the time to love someone, to give of yourself and open yourself up to be loved?

When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop blaming things on someone else and take responsibility for your actions?
Is it that people enjoy being fortune’s fools? Perhaps they love being slaves to destiny and take pleasure out of playing the victims.
This generation may be more technologically advanced, more educated and self supportive but they know less about responsibility and survival. Honour, truth, courage, introspection and taking responsibility for one’s thoughts and actions: This is what is needed to take control of yourself and your life. Fail to learn these concepts and you will forever live under your mother’s skirts! How are you ever going to achieve independence?

There was a party and everyone was invited. Good friends, best friends and new friends alike were told to bring their good humour and festive spirit to celebrate. They came from near and far, no one missed the party… all except for her. She wasn’t invited. Being a friendly and social person, she simply could not understand how she had been overlooked! Thoughts of hatred and hurt went through her mind. Maybe someone had poisoned everyone against her, maybe they didn’t like her or maybe the host had meant to send her an invitation but it had gotten lost in the mail.
What she think of or remember, was the fact that she’d never so much invited the host of the party to a cup of coffee. That neither the host nor their common friends had ever been invited to any of her social gatherings and that since she’d not once made any attempt to bond with neither the host nor the common acquaintances.
Yet, she’s the victim of an evil conspiracy by people that simply didn’t remember that she existed when sending out the invitations…

If you don’t do something about it, it’s your fault.

Almost everything that goes either right or wrong in our lives is be traced back to us. Although fate cannot be altered, destiny is determined by the attitude we decide to take. If we allow ourselves to believe that our lives depend on someone else’s decisions then we become their slaves. What is the use in blaming others for the decisions they’ve made, they are merely living their lives the way that best agrees with them; shouldn’t you be doing the same? What is the use in blaming the destination if it is your own two feet that took you there, your eyes that read the map and your mind that processed direction?

True Freedom and Independence can only be earned, once you take full responsibility for your attitude and actions.

This will take introspection, this may involve admitting to negative thoughts and wrong attitudes and this may mean you’ll have to be a stronger person. No longer can you blame your sorrows on life and its inhabitants… from now on, all your losses and successes will solely depend on you. It’s a high price, but one that is rewarded with the kind of freedom that can only be earned and not bought.

Be bold, be brave, be true… And let Faith be your companion on your road through happiness.

Palm Study

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

Being serenaded by a drunk soccer player that didn’t know how to take no for an answer, I had the choice of either putting up with his feeble attempts for the rest of the night or using an ancient tactic used by women when trying to get rid of unwanted attention: I grabbed onto the arm of my nearest male friend and told the soccer player that my man didn’t like the attention he was giving me. Of course this is a fool proof plan, two minutes later he was drunker than before and making out with a blonde that was quite happy to be receiving the lip service he was giving her. The guy I’d grabbed onto though, wasn’t exactly one of my closest friends however he was quite amused by my predicament and told me he’d felt honoured that it was his arm that I’d grabbed onto… so I decided not to tell him that it was because his was the closest at that moment when my hips were being grabbed by that annoying head of soccer balls! It was either grab onto his arm or do a very embarrassing back kick and turn around slap… I decided that alternative to violence was the best choice.

This is usually the part where things to wrong and you figure out that the arm you grabbed onto is even more annoying and unwelcome than the arm that had been around your hips. However, this wasn’t the case, instead I got latched to someone who had more than just your average interesting conversation.

Did you know that someone who has no olfactory has a more acute sense of taste and vision? I was intrigued to discover that a man that cannot smell your perfume can still taste it by a kiss to your wrist… or anywhere else where you may have applied it.
But before I concluded that I was once again was being serenaded to, my friend with a cute lisp directed the conversation to books, a subject that could get me going for hours. We share some of the same views on books by our favourite author: Paulo Coelho. I laughed at myself when I realized that I was on library talk at a party where people around me were so drunk that they decided to attempt to tongue kiss the poor owner’s dog! Scanning the room around me I spotted that not to far away was an unwanted admirer of mine, and decided this was the safest spot.

It was at my house; right after I’d rubbed some baby oil on his calloused hands that he took my hands into his own to examine them. I told them they were small but quite capable but he was more interested in reading the lines. I thought I heard violins once again until I realized he actually knew what he was talking about.
The left hand is your destiny and your right hand is your present… what you’re currently doing. The line going down your hand is your lifeline and the one across that one is your success. The one above is your love life line.
I was thrilled to hear that I’d die an old granny with a youthful spirit and that although I’d never be rich, I’d always have a means to support myself. A social being with many friend but who liked her solitude told me that he obviously had some research done, either on myself or on palm reading. However, it was when he got to the love line that he ruffled my feathers.
“Geez! Look at all the guys in your life!”
I couldn’t help but start laughing: “Where? Where?! Show me, I can’t see them!”
“Well… you see all these lines in your hands? These are the guys that keep trying to get into your life, but you see how none of them get into the solid line? Well that’s because you probably don’t let them in”
Silence.
“I’m probably another one of those to get out the door right?” I laughed along with him but I couldn’t help the knot in my throat, it wasn’t too long after that he too walked out my door.

I spend the rest of the day staring at my hands. They say that the map of our bodies is drawn at our feet and the map of our souls on our hands. I suddenly wish that I’d studied a little less reflexology and a little more on palm reading. Are all the secrets of my soul in my hands?… metaphorically speaking or not, it scares me to think that someone can read me from looking at my hand. I wondered if my acupuncturist had seen the same when he asked me to show him my hands, I’ll be sure to ask him when I see him again next month.

Would you feel comfortable with your destiny in your hands? If someone looked into their lines and told you what the future awaited you, would you become a believer? I suddenly wondered about all these people that use a million and one methods to tell you your fortune… I wondered how accurate they could possibly be. Can we change the lines in our lives and hands? Can I suddenly change all those little lines into one solid line? Whilst fate may belong to God, my destiny still belongs to me and I choose to choose my path regardless of what may be written for me. Maybe I’m stubborn, or maybe I just know what I’m capable of and of what I want out of life… I wonder if that’s written in my hands too… if it is, it must be near a round circle that resembles a Sun.

The issue however, isn’t on whether palm reading is right or wrong, accurate or false… after all, it is such an oxymoron that it could apply to almost everybody. To me the question still lies on whether one chooses to accept the fate that life writes out for him? I am grateful for someone who can tell me where I am, for often I’m not sure on which ground I stand. It takes someone who can look into my soul to lead me to the answer, a good friend who knows my name. However, I have always been of the belief that whilst there is fate that you cannot escape, destiny is the attitude in which you choose to live… something that belongs only to how. How you choose to live it, will determine the shapes and lines that others shall see upon your hands.

Dear Scorpio...

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

At the risk of your anger at once again sharing my feelings with the world, I once again jeopardize our “cease of fire” to tell you what’s been on my mind since the last time we’ve spoken.
When we were kids you said that I was stupid for wanting to be invisible, you chided me for having a low self-confidence and taught me in your own way to lift my chin up high. We said we’d never be like the other people, that we’d always maintain our honesty and sincerity no matter what… I still keep to that promise, do you?
It seems like a lifetime ago but I still remember, I still remember you.
I wish that I had a part time job as an angel, the kind where I could be invisible while checking up on people the people I love to make sure that they’re okay. Then I could see how you’re doing, I could make sure that you’re happy. It would be my opportunity to see you smile again, to look at those all knowing eyes of yours x-raying everything around you.
You won’t see me and we won’t have to say anything to each other… I’ll just feel relieved to see that you’re okay and if you aren’t, I’ll stay by your side. Even though you can’t see me, you’ll know that something that loves you is there beside you.

In the three years that separates us from the time we last saw each other, the thought of you ever so often invades my mind… at moments when I least expect it. I wonder at those times if you think of me too, somewhere deep down… I know you do.
At times I think that I’ve said everything that there is to be said between us, but I’m always left with the feeling that there’s something missing, even though I never know exactly what it is. You’d tease me if I told you this, you’ve always been very good at putting things behind you… or not? I often wondered about your thoughts when your eyes looked into the distance. I often wondered about that cold wall you put up.

Have you ever had one of those dreams in which things are so real that you can feel the touch and smell the scent of everything that surrounds you?
I was in your old flat last night. I looked for you in your bedroom. I saw your candles, your fish tank with your shark, your guitar standing next to the speaker and your bed just as I expected it: made, everything neat and in its place. When I couldn’t find you I began to panic, I wanted to see you so badly! When I walked out I heard you breathing from your parent’s bedroom. Imagining that you were sleeping, I suddenly felt sixteen again as my courage failed me to open the door. Afraid that you might know I was standing there, I ran to the sitting room and put my head out the window taking deep breaths as I found my consciousness. I’m dreaming! It finally hit me that I was dreaming! The flat, the flat that once was my parent’s across the wall, and the driveway on which you taught me how to roller-skate… none of it was real. I realized I was dreaming and that anything I said… or did… would mean nothing when I woke up. I smiled at myself with immense amount of pleasure as I realized that this was my chance to let my imagination and desires have free reign… no guilt or responsibilities to worry about! Suddenly I was no longer sixteen… flashback to twenty two, the age where I have the courage of my convictions!
I smiled as I tried deciding to what exactly I was going to do with you… so I marched back to the bedroom repeating to myself that this was just a dream… and not just any dream, a dream where I had full control and I knew it!
The bed was empty, you were gone. Slightly relieved that it had only been slept on by one person I laughed as I thought to myself “Had to be too good to be true!”
That’s when I heard you in the shower… all I had to do is turn around to the bathroom just across the bedroom.
I stared at the door knob once again reminding myself that I was simply dreaming, that no harm would come from acting out my imagination… and yet I feared you! I feared those penetrating eyes of yours, your sharp words… most of all I feared your rejection.
That’s when you opened the door from the other side. I took in a deep breath and decided not to point out your lack of attire since you didn’t seem too bothered about it either.
The smile on your face and the look in your eyes told me that there weren’t going to be sharp words or rejection and that it was my turn to make a move.
This was crazy!!! Where on earth did my imagination get all of this? Not that it wasn’t a pretty picture… oh I enjoyed what I was looking at!
The problem is that I was too conscious to make the move my hormones wanted me to make… It just felt wrong.
“I must be dreaming” I said, hoping that either you faded away or that I once again found my courage to taste the lips that gave me my first real kiss.
“I think we both are”
For a moment there, it wasn’t your face I saw… it was the face of someone else, someone I’m not quite ready to face yet.
Stepping into the space between us, you took me into your arms and gave me one of those hugs that had always made me feel as if everything was suddenly right in the world.
Mind you… I still swore at myself for not taking full advantage of the naked man hugging me! You’d think I’d be a tad more courageous in my own dreams!

A call to your parents put my mind to rest about your wellbeing. I would’ve preferred to call your directly, but we both know that we no longer have space for the other in our lives. The past is no longer welcome in the present.
Is this the year in which you finally marry her? I hope so, I liked her when I met her and she seems to adore you. Your brother once expressed to me his desire for me to be there; at your wedding… we both know that won’t happen. Though, I’ll be there in spirit. I’ll think of you as you pledge your heart and life to someone else and only you will see me sitting in the back rows of the church smiling, wishing you eternal love and happiness.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that we’ll see each other again someday. By then we’ll be old, who knows…maybe with children or grandchildren. Will it be then that we finally say the unsaid words? I look forward to that day. Who knows, maybe our children or grandchildren can become best friends like we did. Maybe they can do things better. I know we won’t make the same mistakes our parents did when it comes to our children’s lives and their relationship.

Macy Gray and Metallica songs still remind me of you… I’m still trying. I know I pretended not to understand when you played me that song. Even though I knew you were telling me something I was too afraid that you’d tell me that I was wrong if I asked you. I wish we could both see what we’ve both become after all this time. You’ll always be a part of me as the man who defined who I am today.
Until we meet again, I wish you joy, peace and above all… love, the kind I’ve always wanted for you and me.

Love Always,
Sunshine.

Reaching Out...

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

When cleaning out my mailbox, my first step is to delete all unwanted spam, I then delete the repeated e-mails, the virus warnings and then end off deleting all those “you’re heartless if you don’t forward this” e-mails. Spam is a waste of time; there is no need to see the same e-mail twice; viruses are taken care of by my antivirus and all those signed lists that I keep forwarding never seem to make any positive change. I then proceed to read whatever e-mails are left after the filtering.

My favourite e-mails are those with video clips. Today I received one that influenced me to write this particular entry. It started off with a little girl with beautiful blonde hair who was anxiously waiting for the arrival of someone. She then sees through a window that the person had arrived and she ran into the bathroom, shocking the viewer by cutting her beautiful hair. When the door finally opens, we realize the reason why: the person she’d been waiting for was bold. The thin figure and pale complexion makes us realize that his hairless state was due to Cancer.

Support and understanding

We often demand it but how often do we give it? These children, these sick people… they could be any one of us. They have the same dreams, desires and thoughts. The difference between us and them is a body, the fact that ours are healthy and theirs are ill. We who feel injusticed by the world. We who work and complain often feel that these people are not our responsibility and turn a blind eye so that we’re not haunted by our guilt. It’s not that we don’t care; it’s that we have our own load to carry.

What can I do? Little insignificant me? What power do I possess to make the slightest bit of difference in the world? I barely survive in my own battles let alone bare the time to reach out any kind of support to someone else. Financially things look pretty bad! I had my insurance to pay off, had that visit to the doctor and he sent me off to the pharmacy and I still had to fork out some extra cash to buy some birthday presents. Time is of the essence, I can’t fit in volunteer work into my schedule and what kind of a hypocrite would I be if I only appeared once a month to someone who needs constant support?!

What difference did a little girl cutting her hair make to someone who had lost all of theirs? What do a smile, a kind word and a motivational talk mean to you? Is that Euro, that Rand, that Dollar… or even that penny, going to make such a big hole in your pocket? Isn’t that the price that you more or less pay for a cup of coffee? Isn’t a cup of coffee worth sacrificing to aid someone in such a health threat? How many visits to the doctor does someone like that have to make and how much more mind and body altering medication does he have to take in order to simply survive? How do you know that it won’t be you losing your hair next? Every cancer victim led a life like yours and mine before feeling ill and helpless.
We might not be able to give a full time commitment to someone who is sick but how much sacrifice does a visit really? And even a visit once a month could mean the difference between fighting a disease and giving up.

United Nations, Help organizations… they don’t just appear out of thin air. Just like it takes an individual to build up a company, it takes an individual with a change of attitude and the will to make a difference, to help people that without help and support cannot survive! They also have income paying job, families and twenty four hours in their day. The difference between me and them is that they choose to make the effort to make that difference.

Small actions come a long way, that leftover doggy bag with that slice of pizza that you just couldn’t finish could represent a special dinner to someone that has none (and a couple of extra calories that you don’t need). Even that time you took to give that piece of advice can mean the world to the ears that hears it. No matter how little your contribution, your helping hand and good intentions make the difference.

My objective with this column has always been to share and to make a positive difference. I’ve strived never to impose my opinions or advertise other people’s ideas However; I consider the following information, another opportunity to make a difference:

Emily Lee Novak is one of Sunshine’s Column’s readers. She is running the 26,2 mile marathon o the 5th of June in order to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. She is a regular person just like you and me who wants to make a difference to people who could one day be you or me. Her goal is to raise $4,106.82 and she could really use our helping hand. One less cup of caffeine may even do you some good. You can check out Emily’s project at the following link: www.active.com/donate/tntnoFL/novak

It is impossible for one man to change the world… but it takes that one man to make a difference.

Armed and Dangerous

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

I confess!!!
I did it! I shot the little bugger!!!... And I used his own bow and arrow against him!
I’d love to circle my hands over the neck of the Greek moron who invented Cupid and Valentines Day! It’s that time of the year again when you’re officially allowed to walk around with idiotic smirk on your face whilst purchasing expensive gifts so that some poor shmuck knows you love them…

But don’t get me wrong… I’m not anti-Valentines… in fact I’m all for it! While the rest of the world walks around intoxicated by the commercialized disease, Sunshine has her fun:

Being dragged along by my colleagues into stores that are stuffed with heart and teddy bear trinkets… while my colleagues search for that perfect gift for their significant other… I search for my victim! It never takes too long as the feeble and lost are everywhere! I pinned my first victim at the stuffed animal department realising that his particular dilemma was in choosing to either buy the cute fluffy teddy bear with the red heart in the middle or buying the cute stuffed dog with the red heart in the middle. To put the poor fellow out of his misery, I decided to offer my expert advice!

Cupid’s helper (That’s me!): I see you’re having a little trouble picking the right stuffed animal to buy for your girlfriend.
Mr. Infected by Valentines: You can say that again! So hey! What would you pick if it were for you?
Cupid’s helper: The rabbit
(Constrained silence as he doesn’t realise that the absence of a rabbit was meant as a joke… stifling my desperate urge to burst out laughing, I clear my throat and continue)
Cupid’s helper: I’m kidding (followed by Mr. Infected by Valentines sigh of relief!)
So what does your girlfriend like? Is she a dog lover?
Mr. Infected by Valentines: I don’t think so; she’s got two cats at home.
Suddenly as if he was struck by lightening, I saw the light bulb go on in his head as he thanked me for my help, dropped both animals, grabbed a stuffed cat with a red heart in the middle and made his way towards the counter.

Not quite done with my fun… I got closer to another shopper who was obviously more concerned with his budget than the gift, on observing the teddy that he was buying he remarked to himself: “I’m sure she won’t need a bigger one than this”
To that remark, I simply couldn’t resist saying! “Well, you know what they say about size!”
I didn’t stick around long enough to see whether or not he bought a bigger bear but before I left he was examining the larger specimens!

People are such suckers on Valentines Day! I have to admit; perhaps the only good use to Valentines is finally managing to coax him\her on getting you that special present or to go out to that new restaurant you’ve been dying to try out!

Of course this is a time in which you can release your creative ideas… heart shaped handcuffs, silk boxers, a bow tie… and I even saw an original booklet with interesting vouchers:
“This voucher entitles you to a foot massage”
“This voucher entitles you to a dinner at a fancy restaurant”
“This voucher entitles you to sex in the backseat of the car”… they get spicier after that.
You have to admit! It’s one hell of an interesting way to spice up a long-time relationship! My only qualm is: Why wait until Valentine’s Day! Isn’t lover’s day everyday? Why pick a day on which you know everyone else is doing it too? (No pun intended)
Besides the fact that the whole day has been commercialized, it forces certain behaviour between couples that otherwise is supposed to come naturally! Why on earth are you going to wait until February the 14th to tell someone you love them? Isn’t it something that comes spontaneously?
My theory about Valentines: It’s an international conspiracy by the commercial market to get people to spend large amounts money on things they’ll only use for one day and look like goofballs while doing it!

I decided to refresh my memory on a little on the brat responsible for all this: Cupid, Eros, Amor, the Archer of Love… he has more than one name and only one mission: to create havoc! We’re talking about a little blind kid with arrows! How on earth can he guarantee a good aim?! Plus you can’t tell me that he’s not responsible for confused homosexuals! A menace to society, his mother Aphrodite was the love Goddess responsible for the Trojan War and his most notorious brothers are Chaos (Yes people, this is why love and turmoil go hand in hand) and Anteros (God responsible for the Gay population). Now I know you’re not supposed to judge a guy by his family but did you know that incest was rumoured between himself and his mother?
Who was the drunk that put this little dude on love duty?!! Alright, so he’s supposed to be the best-looking guy on the planet, and yes he looks harmless enough… but so does a baby with a bazooka!
His victims are either shot with a golden arrow with dove feathers or a leaden arrow with owl feathers. The golden provokes the lovey-dovey tingly feeling that makes us look as drunk-like fools. The other is the sobering effect when you realise that the person you bought all that expensive stuff for was shot by the lead arrow, and is indifferent to all your efforts.

But even Valentine’s Day is a question of perspective: how you see it and how you react to it. This year I’ve had the benefit of watching a two courageous hearts use this particular day to proclaim their hidden feelings. Couples are renewing their sentiments and many are using the day as an excuse to spice up their love. And even though Valentine’s Day should be everyday between people that love each other, I guess that the fact that everyone else is walking around with a lovesick goofball face, makes it easier for you to do the same. The world lacks love, so how could anyone possibly condemn a day in which we’re all allowed to express the heart’s most pure and natural feeling? This year, I once again content myself watching other people act like shmucks, though deep down my desire for them is that the “loving feeling” lasts them all year through.

Newsflash:… Being the son of Aphrodite and Ares makes Cupid a God which means that both him and love are immortal (yep people they cannot die)… so I guess I didn’t kill the little guy after all! This means that those of you also avoiding getting caught by the love disease… watch out for Cupid! The little brat is alive, armed and dangerous!!!

Pinned By The Needle

carla.ornelas@gmail.com

My Acupuncture treatment continues... and for a second time I found myself in Dr. Miracle’s room of healing. Knowing what to expect, I took an extra pair of stockings and a warm shirt hoping to feel just a little more comfortable this time around. I had hoped that on this visit, my aura would be the picture of health and that progress would be highly noted. However, I knew from my heavy heart and disturbing thoughts that I was nowhere near the shape of wellbeing that I wished to be. Guilt flooded my thoughts as I imagined him telling me that progression was mostly up to me and that healthy thoughts depended on my strength of mind. I considered once again running from failure.

It’s strange how some people have the ability to infect you with confidence and reassurance the minute that they walk into your presence. My memory reminded me of a promise; of a South African doctor who assured me that he could fix what I thought was irreparable as long as I didn’t give up on him or myself. Closing my eyes, I opened my heart and my soul to the forces of energy that worked under my blind eyes. I envisioned myself as the carrier of light, a being filled with so much light that it radiated far and beyond what the eye could see. I smiled when I realized that this being is a star, the sun and the person the lives within me. Letting go of fears and doubts I let the light shine within me and found the confidence that my worries often overshadow.

Did I leave my body? I couldn’t have, for I felt my presence there all the time. I felt my healer’s hands and the touch left on my skin. Yet I felt like I was on a completely different plain than I had been on the first time around. Twisted, touched and healed… I felt myself being molded by something bigger than I am… and felt the incredible urge to weep when it was all over. The second time is supposed to be harder than the first.

“Why am I shaking?”

Dr. Miracle looked at me the way I fear to be seen by others: as fragile. Told that it was best not to know what it was that had been removed from my soul, I chose to accept the fact that perhaps I was just a little afraid and that something’s are best not known… at least not for now. It occurred to me that most of my hurts and ego are caused by my own hand and I apologized to my higher being for harming it the way I have through time and lifetimes. I once again wished for the opportunity to have past life regressions believing that it would be an incredible opportunity to better understand myself.

Doc decided that a specifically placed injection would help me calm down and I couldn’t help laughing at myself as I felt more human and female than I’d ever felt before. I have a hard time trusting my soul to the hands of another human being, but it comforts me so when I’m reminded that the good doctor is merely the carrier and messenger of the higher power and that God sent him to heal my soul. So often, have I too been the vessel of a higher message. And yet, besides that knowledge, I trust not just the doctor but the man before me. Speaking to him is like speaking to someone doesn’t need many words to understand.

After you get used to the people around you speaking a different language, your own language sounds foreign to your ears. What joy it is when someone speaks to you from the same level of knowledge. It’s that feeling of exhilaration when you meet someone from your home town in a foreign land, someone who knows your foundations and speaks to you in your language. This is how I feel at each visit to Dr. Pins and Needles. He makes me want to stop time and stay forever and I wonder about the things that he sees and does not tell me. My nature wills me to reach out and reciprocate some of the healing and comfort that he’s given me although my conscience prevents me from doing so. When I’m there, I feel like there is no other place on earth that I’d rather be. Things become so clear and my spirit feels safe. When I look into his eyes, I feel that I’m looking into a whole different world, which is both familiar and strange to me. How good would it be to reach out and touch his hand, enter his mind and read the thoughts I cannot begin to fathom. This must be how the student feels before his master and how a patient feels before his doctor. After the healing I could not have attained on my own, I promised myself to treat my soul with better care so that I too can help others reach a higher level of health.

“Why did it take you so long to come see me?”. Gee, I dunno either doc! We both know you’re a busy man yet it’s perhaps because I thought you might send me to a shrink if I ran into your office screaming: “prick me with something quick before I go insane!” How do you respond to someone who knows about the pain you’ve been going through?

The Surgeon of souls told me that he’d removed the thoughts that were haunting me and the weight upon my shoulders. At first I thought it was impossible, he couldn’t possibly know the pressure and stress I was under and that it was impossible to remove these elements from my being at the present time. However after placing his hands on my head as if literally pulling them out my mind, I was amazed at how thoughts that I’d struggled against for so long, somehow just let go of my conscious. When leaving his office I began to fear their return wondering if I’d have to come back to him when they once again announced their takeover. Yet… there has been no sign of them since and the pressure once felt has been replaced with an indescribable sense of relief. I went to bed a girl and woke up a woman, ready to face the world with regenerated energy.

Is this healing of soul all really in my mind? And if so… isn’t that what I need to heal in order to be in perfect health? Whatever the methods you choose to heal your body and soul, make sure they work for you. No one can argue that your body is directly connected to your mind and that one cannot work without the other. If your mind is ill, your body will react. Find what it is that keeps the two together, be it a sport, a hobby or even yoga. Hold onto whatever keeps you healthy in both mind and spirit. I once again recommend acupuncture, even to those who are afraid of needles. In the least of cases it will make you aware of your body and help you to once again make the connection with your soul.