a little note on strength
Thursday, February 28, 2019
What an odd thing, strength is. Many times over, I had to reacquaint myself with it. To how it looked on me. To how it felt. And nearly each time I did so, it was here.
Here, at the end of a parking lot's cul-de-sac, where a set of concrete stairs lead down to a park overlooking the river; here, where the stairway is shouldered by patches of green with benches sitting lone under the shade of towering fig trees awaiting the hearts that come along occasionally in search of a little bit of quiet in nature's company.
I was one of the looking hearts. And it was here that I came to at the end of the day that I had spent alone in my room, pouring over notes scattered over the bed, to come out and find in the mail a freshly delivered package of a blank-paged book, a set of stickers and in their midst a note that would later be opened and read and loved and kept, folded into the pages of a hefty journal and creased from countless revisits and rereads.
Strength, I had learned that day, at this quaint riverside park, was many things that came in many different forms. And they were no more a stranger to me than this park was. Strength, the park and I: we were all, by then, very much acquainted with one another.
I just hadn't quite realised it yet.
It was here that days before a looming deadline, I had cried on the bench, feeling hopeless and ashamed, pleading for things to turn around. It was here that the day I turned twenty-two, I had sat curled into a ball in the rain, wishing the thunderstorms and promised rain-clouds away. It was here that I came to at the end of long, busy days and at the start of slow, lonely mornings.
These moments, little did I know, were moments that strength came through for me: each time emerging differently, redefining itself as something new but soon, not so foreign to me.
In the days before a looming deadline, strength was to fall short and to surrender to tears that were long held in and let, at their falling, a chance to put my trust in Him and to see clearly again. In the day I turned twenty-two, strength was watching lives play out at the other side of the river where a lady ran for thirty minutes and ferries merrily made their way, even in the gloom, even in the rain. At the end of stretched out days and the beginnings of slower mornings, strength was to breathe, to slow down and to be still.
Strength was to cry, to let go, to live, to live, to live.
Strength was to cry, to let go, to live, to live, to live.
And it has always been there within me. Sometimes I am only a park, a moment, a breath away from meeting it.
AN EPILOGUE + SOME QUESTIONS & REFLECTIONS 🎕
since coming back to Brisbane for my fourth year, I have been thinking a lot about strength and how it looks like for me right now. the truth is, this is a tried thing and I've had to go through it many times. but it doesn't build a muscle; I don't feel any stronger.
but in thinking of strength and how it has looked like for me in the past, I think that there is strength here somewhere and most often, it's only in retrospect that we realise it.
and so the only option is to see this through. and one day, In sha Allah God Willing, we can look back to this moment and realise this is what strength looked like after all.
How about you? What does strength look like in your life right now?
PS: SOME FLOWERS FOR THE TAKING 🎕
the note in the picture (that is now creased with love and many rereads) came with the package I ordered from nzakrh's magic shop as part of The Strong Girls Club-related merch. it says, "Strength is when you smile, but also when you cry. Sometimes strength is standing on your two feet and sometimes it's letting yourself fall on your knees. Do what makes you shine the most after - we're all strong girls, I feel. Even with tears flowing down your cheeks, even with a huge smile dancing on your lips. You got this."
I got the package at the end of a day spent studying and whilst looking for some peace and quiet in the park and the note has really left a huge impact on me then onwards.
Are there are any flowers for the taking that you would like to share, too? Stories or videos or quotes that you feel are related to this piece? Share them with me in the comments; I'd love to hear from you!
With love, Iween
🎕
4 comments
"..Strength was to cry, to let go, to live, to live, to live."
ReplyDelete"...each time emerging differently, redefining itself as something new but soon, not so foreign to me.."
I love this post and as for what strength means to me and how it came to be, you worded them perfectly///
Strength for me carries with itself various form or maybe costume for different occasion (laughs) and I suppose it is alright to let it be just the way it is even if it means having it different than others. And I suppose that has its own set of strength that comes with it, acceptance that is.
As for the past few days my strength manifest in choosing to let myself feel rather than to hurt myself not to feel. And there’s also that little strength in replying texts from people even though I am not in the best state hahahahah/// I suppose that counts too yeah?
Thank you for another beautiful post///
Please take care Iween
Lots of love
I love the idea that strength comes along in different costumes for different occasions. I agree with it a lot (also, it's a cute analogy). There's this writer who writes about how strength may look different at different points of our lives (her name is Morgan Harper Nichols) and she's one of the reasons why I've found that strength can definitely look different for each person and I do believe that knowing and accepting that is strength in itself, too.
DeleteAh, that's beautiful <3 The strength to carry on when things might feel difficult.
Take care always. Love you <3
True Strength comes in many defined areas and form. I believe your strength finds its way in your writing and in the form of sharing with everyone pieces of it <3
ReplyDeleteStrength is in reminding. Acceptance of the hurdles we faced and submit to Allah to guide us through it.
Adding to this, I was reminded of Nabi Musa A.S' story, how he ran away,scared of his wrongs, scared of the most evil man to stand at that time. He submitted himself to Allah through his Duas. And nowadays, when I get a little less brave of myself, I would be asking Him the same thing Nabi Musa A.S asked.
Thank you Iween😘 I pray that you can fight through your worries.
Aww, thank you so much. And look at the beautiful strength of yours in sharing the reminder of Prophet Musa A.S. <3 May Allah reward you for your reminder and bless you with beautiful strength <3
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