No Bars state of mind = New Age state of mind



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you have Einstein, saying that there was no time or space, just a combination of the two. Or Columbus, insisting that on the other side of the world lay not an abyss but a continent. Or Edmund Hillary, convinced that a man could reach the top of Everest. Or the Beatles, who created an entirely different sort of music and dressed like people from another time. Those people—and thousands of others—all lived in their own world.
― Paulo CoelhoVeronika Decides to Die

Filed under Paulo Coelho veronika decides to die dare to be different freedom be you be crazy the art of getting by

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I have lone to stay awake
A beautiful world i’m trying to find

See, I am insearch of myself

Ooh its just too hard for me to find

Said it just too hard for me to find
(dreams, dreams, dreams)
Cuz i’m in the search of something new
(a beautiful world im trying to find)
Search inside me
Searching inside you
And thats the trill

Erykah Badu - Master Teacher


Filed under Erykah Badu badu master teacher i stay woke badoula oblongata

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Now if a princess becomes human
Don’t stone her on a talk show, you’ll ruin
‘Cause there’s a fine line between a skewer
And a decent sense of humor
Aim at the ones who’ve really hurt us
They should be arrested for murders
But then all the cameras were turned on
Some skinny naked blond eating burgers
Norah Jones- It’s Gonna Be

Filed under norah jones it's gonna be the fall lyrics learning

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Somewhere in the heart of man (somewhere, within,
There comes a time when he must understand (when he
must understand)
The strong withstand, the weak will fall
Cause tomorrow may not come at all.
-Xzibit-Heart Of Man.
'member this? I swear they went and forgot about X. Duly so, progress is key with these things. Ah! If only hip hop would once again be a great teacher, if only.

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I came across something instructing me to prepare for a predicted increase in good luck this July. Having been a slacker in denial for some time, I now rely on this kind of fortune cookie wisdom to divert me somewhat from further slumber. I convince myself that it’s some kind of sign from the heavens calling me to attention. I have come to learn that this is typical underachiever behavior: the watching out for ‘signs’ or the taking part in frivolous delusions of this sort- it’s also called coping. It is the eleventh day of July and it feels like the eleventh hour until some event I must complete in order to add more weight to life. I am yet know what this event is.

Very often I have talks with my mother that put the fear of life in me. We tend to reflect on past events and bathe in each other’s future hopes and dreams Mama and I. Following an intense overt reflection she speaks about working towards saving more money, then on how she could use a spa day to release her tension and then on how the current state of the house is starting to embarass her so maybe I could help her pick some paint or new carpets. And myself? Well, I’ll ask where all the time went, then I’ll exclaim that I’m in my twenties and broke and lost and hungry for some of that good pie. I’ll go on about wanting to “make it” really bad and how i need to make money so that I get to live as a rich hippie, writting books and touring. At this point she’ll jump in to remind me that I have been wanting these type of unreachable things for years and I’ll fire back that her list isn’t news either. Soon her words will stab at me because they expose my apparent sameness. There isn’t a thing I would hesitate to give in order to gain some traction, and these conversations with Mama about time obliterate me as I stand. She thinks i embelish the topic of growth more than anyone who wants to live happily should and perhaps I do. My heart takes to a peculiar off beat pound when I realise how much time is speeding and it’s not the pace which gets me but rather the feeling that time is speeding past me instead of with me.

Yet another July has come; the second half is well in motion. Let that sink in as you recall the pacts and promises you made when this year began. And assess carefully if Things were made or chances were ruined. I sincerely hope you’re still keeping at being the individual you aspire to be. And if you’re reading may you recieve only the better kind of luck.


Filed under writing editorial this july midyear reflection african writers july july musings

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There is a ‘weirdo’ about his business not far from here. He goes by the notions of being born too late. That One even listens to Mango Groove and screams girlish sounds on hearing Jimmy Dludlu’s Gibson. You will find him deep in Abdullah Ibrahim or speaking in sparkly eyed passions about that Letta Mbulu Caiphus Semenya ‘type love’. To him, the only rockstar that ever lived is Moses Taiwa Molelekwa. To see him beam is to see the elements of his composition: a vision that is some kind of, sanctified education.

That I do not walk with you does not mean I cannot acknowledge you.
That I see you is because I have learnt boundlessly from reading you. Today I decided to try at writing you.

A prim salutation to you dear friend,
you have been the most kind.
I am not one to let anyone be in my circumference without extending to them showers of love as best as I can.
I sincerely hope you heard when I called you amazing.
your passions tend to drive your nuttiness, nevertheless I honour you.
And if I am right to think I am my words, to you I only want to be Thank You.
thank you and thank you to the billionth power.
to you,
frankly, the closest thing to superman that I know.

peace, love and happiness always - Naleli.

(Source: newageblawg)

Filed under writting ode dear friend jazz life moses taiwa molelekwa caiphus semenya meetings with remarkable people naleli

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Inventive ideas in line with our passions are fueled by the arts and very largely by written works. We are a world which READS, or at least I sincerely hope we are. We read these things which make us in many of ways and forms: hard copies, fluid copies, audio copies, soft copies and all copies. Any copies at all carry the stories we dare to advance from.





Yet sometimes I boycott Books and all his beautiful friends for long stretches of time. Long enough that even a spotless mind may become sooty with filth. I do this, because I suffer so badly from Stalophobia: the fear of staleness and unoriginality.

Stal- from stale, -o- because it sounds legitimately Latin and phobia. Yes, I just came up with it.

Side note

Because my mind does this thing were it fixates incessantly on the thing it is curious on, you will find that at 01:09 a.m. that is right now, on my computer screen a bold phrase reads “humorous and fictional phobias”. Too pressing a matter for my brain that it chooses to forgo some much needed sleep. Okay now, here it is HIPPOPOTOMONSTROSESQUIPEDALIOPHOBIA- the fear of long words, naturally. I get to this and figure if someone can create this then I too can create anything to suit my various life conditions, and if I can, we all can. This is the exact thing that is my problem and also that gets me off reading I am talking about; this ‘BORROWED CREATIVITY’.

End of side note.

My thing is, the more I read ‘them’ is the more I am likely to sound like ‘them’. You know Them, the seemingly proficient-in-their-craft and the lets-set-the-rules-of-the-trade-by-their-standards people. You should be aware that your entire existence will be the dead-weight loss to the world on the moment you strive to be more like Them. If only we could all just be and sound like ourselves freely, if only. My Stalophobia is probably the best weakest thing about me; it is also the thing barring me from plausible intelligence. But something’s got to give right, lest we assume some damned inauthentic stance about life.

I wonder if it unsettles you too: the impact of wanting someone else’s traits on your own uniqueness. I am interested in learning what makes up the separations between being inspired and being a phony-full-of-baloney copycat. If you know, get at me with it, I would like to learn.

In the meantime, I wish that you become extraordinarily infected with Stalophobia and know that phonies got no homies. Let our activity be creation, let our business be to live and let us remain ever not doing what They do.

Peace always -Naleli

(Source: newageblawg)

Filed under writting funny editorial article on originality fear of fake originality editorial newageblawg naleli african writers

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The circumstance of a Father’s Day has always unsettled me a little, that or a Mother’s Day or also any other dedicatory 24 hours to the people who have, in reality, MADE ALL the hours of our lives. Nevertheless, I oblige.

(Source: newageblawg)

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