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Learn To Dance With The Music Of The Storm.

{Photo via Pinterest.com}

{Photo via Pinterest}

There is music in the storm — a rhythm and flow to the way it rages.

The crashing of the waves, the strumming of nature’s guitar, the fall of the rain hitting the world like fingers pressing down on the keys of a piano, the howling of the wind a horn section blowing out funk, and the crack of thunder the bass and snare of the drums.

If you listen closely, you’ll hear the melody, the pulling, calling, challenging, daring you to dance, to move your feet and swing your arms.

Allow your spirits to be ignited by the rhythm and learn how to flow through with the storms of life.

But it’s always hard to hear the music at first. We sail along on the sea of life, enjoying the breeze, the slow swaying of the waves, the passing of birds and the beauty of the sun resting in the clear blue sky.

We get used to this easy feeling of everyday life just flowing by — our content, comfort zone of working, socializing, eating, sleeping, friends, family, holidays and parties. Then suddenly the sky starts to darken, as grey clouds block out the sun and the birds disappear.

The waves begin rushing and rocking our boat, and suddenly a storm hits, breaking the comfortable journey of life we were enjoying.

The storm is always unpredictable in the way it touches us.

Sometimes it simply crashes into and batters the boat of our lives, shoving us back and forth for a while, drenching our emotions and blowing away a few of the things we thought were certain and meant to be. And then it passes as quickly as it came, leaving us a little wet, shaken and dazed.

Then sometimes the storm rages with such power that it cracks and rips the foundation of our lives, raining down uncertainty, blowing away just about everything we ever thought was securely battened down. It hits us with waves that take us on a roller coaster of emotions, making us feel like we will never truly regain our equilibrium.

These storms can feel like they will never end, raging for days, to months, to years. And lost in the eye of them, we question everything — our health, our friendships, our ability to keep or find love, our path in life, our very immortality and even our sanity.

To survive it, some of us hold on to anything we can for dear life. Others scream and shout at the storm, trying to fight it with equal rage, and challenging it to Give me all you’ve got, I can take it!

Some simply curl up on the floor and cry, unable to handle the battering storm inflicted on them and others give up and throw themselves overboard, allowing the waves to swallow them whole.

But I say again, there is music in the storm.

You can hear it if you just listen for the rhythm in the chaos, let it take you by the hand and become a Storm Dancer.

Ride the crashing and rolling waves like a daredevil surfer. Allow the drenching of the rain to cleanse and refresh your skin, washing away any illusions or misconceptions you allowed to creep into your life. Open you eyes to the strike of the lighting, as it illuminates and lights up your world so you can truly see things clearly.

Let the clap of the thunder wake you up from monotony, and make you listen to your soul. Allow the wind to blow way all excess baggage you are carrying unnecessarily on your journey through life.

The music of the storm is a challenging ode, a raging rock song, a questioning hip hop track. It is purposefully erratic in its rhythm, constantly changing the tempo to test your ability to adapt, grow and learn, never making it easy for you but always trying to make you a stronger dancer.

The song of the storm is one of life telling you to not let the days pass quiet and easily, but to live ferociously and passionately, through your emotions, through your will, drive, and conviction for life.

The storm spins and dips and throws you around to remind you of the exhilarating gift of existence.

To dance with the storm is to constantly learn through the questioning of yourself. To learn to face your fears, to know you can rely on yourself in the darkest of moments, and to sail headlong into the eye of life, unafraid and never wavering, but full of determination, excitement and the spirit of adventure.

The storm is a reminder that we cannot control the nature of life; all we can do is find a way to move in harmony with it, or else let it batter and bruise us, and we are unable to hear its song.

Once you embrace the storm, you no longer look out on the horizon with fear or trepidation at the darkening of clouds in the distance.

Instead, you begin to learn the steps, to understand the rhythm and flow, to open up the freedom in your movement to be able to freely adapt to the changing tempo of the wind. You sail on confidently, knowing that you are always ready for the dance.

There’s an old saying: A calm sea does not make a skilled sailor. We never know how long or hard the storm will be, but storms are a natural part of life. There is no sun without rain. To embrace the storm is to embrace life. Sometimes we need a storm to realize just how beautiful it is to see the sun come out again.

For all the Storm Dancers out there, keep dancing.

For those still trying to hear the music, it is there.

Just nod your head, tap your feet, and click your fingers. You will hear it.

 

*****

Emanuel AdelekunEmanuel Adelekun is a writer and a filmmaker, as well as a hip-hop-culture-loving warrior-b-boy. Always honest, he talks too much, always has an opinion, and tends to push people, but that’s okay with him because he has accepted that he’s a wild, fiery spirit who believes in true self-expression. He follows the path of always striving to develop, improve and better understand the frequency on which his soul vibes, making this his way of life. In the end, he believes in keeping it simple: stay open, live to explore, experience, and enjoy the moment. Cherish your mistakes, always be a student, don’t take shit from anyone, and treat others how you would like them to treat you. Through his words, Emanuel hopes to make connections with other similar souls, and maybe open people to something more inside themselves. You could contact Emanuel via his websiteInstagram or Facebook.

afp-photo: GREECE, Thessaloníki : An elderly man is crying…

tumblr_nqwnj3TGCT1r9jzs2o1_500.jpg

afp-photo:

GREECE, Thessaloníki : An elderly man is crying outside a national bank
branch as pensioners queue to get their pensions, with a limit of 120
euros, in Thessaloniki on 3 July, 2015. Greece is almost evenly split
over a crucial weekend referendum that could decide its financial fate,
with a ‘Yes’ result possibly ahead by a whisker, the latest survey
Friday showed. Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras’s government is asking
Greece’s voters to vote ‘No’ to a technically phrased question asking if
they are willing to accept more tough austerity conditions from
international creditors in exchange for bailout funds. AFP PHOTO /Sakis
Mitrolidis
                       

June 2015

It’s difficult to wake up in the mornings. I don’t allow myself to sleep for twelve hours straight, but trust me when I say that’s all I feel like doing, day after day. I can’t find meaningful reasons to get up, but I force myself to do it for motives I find to be meaningless, cause it’s the “rational” and “grown-up” thing to do. 
I’m in a perpetual state of apathy and cannot find joy in things that used to light me up. I go to the cinema with family and I feel dead inside. I can’t sit down to update this blog because I get a really painful feeling in my entire body and I want to throw up. I don’t want to spend time with my family anymore. I find human beings except C extremely irritating, and I try to socialize and force myself to be exposed to new situations (the whole ‘rewiring the hippocampus’ thing, “it’s scientific” they say) but I just hate people’s guts and can’t help how I feel. I’ve also developed a terror of yoga because I always end up crying, specially with bowing. Every time the instructor goes “And now we bow” I become a waterfall. So nowadays I’m in a state of wanting to do yoga but forbidding myself from it because my mind says I can’t afford to get puffy and sound sick when I must go be social immediately after a session. I find myself in a position where I have no choice; I feel like I’m always in survival mode. This means that I’m bathing in anxiety all day and all night. 
I cling to the very few things that keep me connected to myself, such as taking photos here and there, reading Anne of Green Gables (I cannot stand any other books, they give me nausea), spending time with C & going to the beach.  
Things I Loved in June:
✿ The beach ✿ Making up with C after a fight He stayed in the stairs ✿ Harry Potter party with my sister ✿ Went to see Jurassic World with J and M ✿ My new gorgeous panties with roses on them ✿ Cuddling in C’s bed and being in possession of his glorious ass ✿ Insterstellar. OMG. Best film I’ve seen in years ✿ Making bouquets of fake flowers ✿ Crafting ✿ Watching travel documentaries on tv with my parents. I want to travel so baaaaad! ✿ Daydreaming about traveling ✿ Spells that work ✿ The magpie feather I found on my way home from C’s ✿ Naomi Von Monsta launched her new blog! I’ve been following her since livejournal days, and she’s amazing ✿ 2-hour hike to Montserrat mountain with C & the stairs of despair ✿ 

My dad, Mike, died at the age of 69 today. And so I wanted to share what I wrote about him 10 years…

My dad, Mike, died at the age of 69 today. And so I wanted to share what I wrote about him 10 years ago in March of 2005:

“On the theory of the American Dream:

I was watching MTV a few days ago and they had one of their trying to be intelligent issue type programs like Made or True Life. On the show was this Indian kid who was talking about how his family was the American Dream. The reason? His parents came over to America from India to go to school here. His grandfather paid for his dad to come over. His grandfather is a plastic surgeon over in India, but he wanted his son to recieve better training. He also paid for his son’s wife to come over. His wife later became a chemical engineer. This kid goes to a prep school, drives an Infinti to school and lives in a 7 bedroom home outside Beverly Hills. He smirked at the camera while talking about his parents having an “average” existence in India, but now they can truly be happy here in America. He also said you have to be foreign to appreciate the “American Dream.” He has been accepted to Yale, which his parents are going to pay for because he doesn’t qualify for financial aid. This is his one gripe about America. He can’t go to college for free. He is, indeed, living the American dream because the American dream has become entitlement and not working hard, but smart.

Now let me tell you about the American dream. My family has lived the American dream as it was. It was originally bringing yourself up out of your circumstances, usually poverty, and providing a better life for yourself and your family through working hard, education and sacrifice. Maybe that kid’s family lived the American dream in India, but they have never wanted for anything. One aspect of the American dream is wanting for something, being hungry for it and working hard to gain the means necessary to achieve it. Maybe his dad really wanted to be a plastic surgeon, but he had the means to easily accomplish it. There is nothing easy about the American dream. His family is rich, his parents are rich, and his parent’s parents were rich. He comes from old money. Maybe the American dream was lived back a few generations and that’s the point MTV was trying to make. Somehow, I doubt that.

My case in point: My dad. He was born in 1945 in Defiance, OH. His family was not rich. In fact, he was very poor. He never had it made for him, he was never privileged. He went to a public school instead of a pricey prep school or private school. His father was frequently sick. Not sick with a cold, but tuberculosis. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he continued with his education and joined the Navy. He didn’t want to, but he did to serve his country and to help pay for college because he didn’t have generous parents paying his way.

He worked at a number of jobs, none of them glamorous or easy, to help pay for college. The GI Bill didn’t cover everything and at one point he had to drop out due to lack of money. Instead of giving up, he worked and saved up to go back. He received his bachelor’s degree in English, but couldn’t find a job in which he could use his degree. Instead of giving up or pouting like most people would, he took a job with the city of Defiance. This job provided a paycheck. He joined the union to try to provide a better work environment for the workers there and eventually became president of the union. As a kid, I was taught to say “Go Union!” Of course I was a kid, so it came out “Go Onion!” However, the intent was there. But I digress.

My dad met my mom in 1982 and were married in 1983. They bought a small, 2 bedroom house on 206 Williams St. in Defiance, OH. It had a large back yard and was across the street from a nice city park. I grew up in that house and felt in no way disadvantaged by not living in a 7 bedroom mansion. I went a private Catholic school, along with my brother, for several years and went to public school at my choice. My brother got to play baseball and soccer and I got to be involved in drama and on the cross country team. My dad’s job provided us health insurance and dental insurance. I got braces to fix the gap between between my teeth I inherited from my dad, along with generally bad teeth. My brother and I didn’t get a huge allowance, but that motivated us to get jobs and learn how to work hard. My brother had a paper route and I waited tables. I paid for most of my new school clothes and school supplies myself. We went on family vacations out west. I never went to Disneyworld, but I turned out alright regardless. He taught me Disneyworld is an overpriced sham, and he’s right.

In 2001, my dad and mom retired to Buffalo, WY after buying 35 acres of land and putting a house on it. My dad also bought a new car. When he was 9 years old and watching his John Wayne movies, I’m sure he never thought he’d own what he does and accomplish what he did. He and my mom raised my brother and I well and any mistakes we have made or will make we cannot blame on our upbringing. We learned the value of the dollar and hard work. I learned you appreciate things more when you have to work for them versus them being given to you. I have been unemployed before, but on the day I lost a job I started looking for a new one. I got back up again. And again. I haven’t been taught anything less.

It’s taken me until now to appreciate everything my mom and dad did for my family. I was a typical teenager and thought I had it so rough. That’s bullshit. My parents gave a lot. Especially my dad. There were days he worked 16 hours (8 a.m. to 4 p.m. then 4 p.m. to midnight and then back at 8 a.m.) and he didn’t see any of us really for a few days just so we would have that extra money for a family vacation. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my dad, besides the value of a dollar, is to always look for the good in people, but don’t be surprised if you can’t find it. That allows me to trust, but not too much. He has given me my love of reading. Almost all my favorite books are ones he gave me. He also told me to question what I’m taught and not to accept it as gospel. Perhaps with the way the world is today, that is one of the most valuable lessons I have learned.

So, in summary, my dad has lived the American dream. He has worked hard, educated himself, and sacrificed for his family to give them a much better life than he had. He has rightfully earned everything he has and deserves his retirement. You don’t need to be a plastic surgeon or engineer to appreciate the American dream. You can be blue collar. And I am, as is the rest of my family. And we’re nothing less because of that.“