The year has come to an end , and it’s now I realize that time DOES pass by fast. I’d wish you all a Merry Christmas if I were a Christmas and December person but unfortunately yours truly is not…But it doesn’t mean that I cannot wish for Love in all of your Hearts, Joy in all your Souls, serenity on earth and Hope to keep on keeping on.
Christmas is not only about the presents, but it’s about family, giving without any regret, loving as if there was no tomorrow and being Happy. It’s about being there for others, There are at least 8 million people in my country and I know that a third of them are crying and not smiling because they have lost a son, a husband, a father, a brother, and/or a friend; I keep them in my heart and hope that bitterness will never touch their souls and tear their heart. To the World, I wish Hope, Faith and Courage; and to each and every single one of my readers joy and love.
Since 3 years I’ve spent Christmas with my brothers, whom I adore, my father and mother of course and read a book that I will recommend to you, a book that I never got tired of : The Prophet by Khalil Gibran . I wanted to share that little bit of my inner soul with you and posted up 3 chapters of his book; On Love, On Giving , and on Joy. Thank you for being with me Every step of the way, and I hope you stick to me for the upcoming year!

On Giving:

You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the over prudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city? And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable? There are those who give little of the much which they have - and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty. There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth. It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding; and to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving and is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors’. You often say, “I would give, but only to the deserving.” The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish. Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. And what desert greater shall there be than that which lays in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving? And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life - while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness. And you receivers - and you are all receivers - assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be over mindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.

On Love:

When love beckons to you follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart. But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, Into the season less world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, I am in the heart of God.” And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brooks that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

On Joy:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

So I sit here on my lunch table, like every other day, and write my notes, letters, songs, and poems about and to you; Letters of my hopes for us, my dreams and fantasies about us Letters that will never be sent, because I don’t have the guts to send them to you.

You’ll never see them. Hell, even if you did, you wouldn’t know who wrote them, because I never sign my name. That would make the letter officially done, and I don’t want it to end yet.

The heavy talking is my only shield. Somehow it reminds me of your temper, which is as fickle as the tones I hear, loud or hushed… as if to frighten whoever would challenge you. And you’d win. Like always….

The bell rang and I watch you laugh with your friends, hug them, smile to them and I hate it because you’re my entire world. I’ll go home now and clutch to this notebook as if my life depended on it…And it does.

The twinkling stars against the black canvas sky, remind me of the way your eyes get whenever you look at someone with a desire. But that look is rare to be seen. You hide behind that mask… What I’d give to have you look at me with such intensity. But I don’t see it. Nor will I ever. I just see the mask you use to hide your feelings. The Fiery orbs of amber when you’re shooting daggers at me that pierce my heart every time. The pain is almost unbearable. Almost.

How can you be so indifferent towards me, when I carry so much love for you? Maybe, if I continue wishing on the fallen stars, my wish might come true. And when it does, I will welcome you with open arms.

So concludes another letter to you. But this one is different. This is the one I’m going to leave for you to find tomorrow. I will leave it where I know that only you will find it. I think I’ll even sign my name this time…

And maybe now that you know my feelings for you, I can find out how you really feel…Maybe you could really care less. Or maybe it’s just a mask; among other things…Please don’t be too angry, though. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

With much love, that has grown over the years…

I saw him today, and there it was…That “slap in the Face” feeling and the threat of the treacherous tears, I had been holding for so long, to leave my eyes. It seemed like it had been forever and a voice in the back of my head wondered if he still cared. I couldn’t stop staring, He looked better than before …My Greek God in his entire splendor. . I wanted to scream that I’d pick him over any man I’m with …but somehow I knew he was really happy now. I asked him how things were going…and then I asked about his new girlfriend.

There it was once more; that “slap in the face” and the “I’ve just been punched in the gut” intake of air…I wondered if I was finally going to break, Going to stop shaking with anger? Passion, Fury? Just… Stop.

He said he missed me, and like so many times before…he didn’t mean it, but I meant it. I loved him, he loves his new Girlfriend. He held me for the last time as I finally broke and gave in. I can’t even look at him without crying…this much I know. And he can’t even look at me.

There it was all over again; the blaze of his touches…the warm breath on my neck, the whispers in my ears, my nails clawing at his back, the broken love we shared, that Passion where one always ends up broken and half of who they used to be.

As he murmured words I know he didn’t mean, as I took him in and cried at the loss of the soul I had left, he said “Look at me” And I did. He said “Get lost with me, forget poise and rationality” And I did. He kissed my tears and he kissed me “you’re beautiful” I tasted my own bitterness, my own tears. And from there on, there were no words, there was no me, there was no him…There was us, and all we could have been.

I was lost and I knew it, I held on to what bit of pride I had, but the heart has a reasons that reason sometimes itself ignores. His caresses lied to me, his eyes bore me in “God I missed you, I missed this” He doesn’t mean it. He’s just lost in bliss. He tips my chin up “why pretend? Open your eyes…we’ll always need each other. So go where your deepest longing leads.” And I hate that bastard for being right, so I hold him harder hoping to feel more of him, hoping that holding on to him will make him be mine again.

The world spins, the air lacks, I get lost … And I sleep in his arms as he gently caresses my rebellious hair, as this was normal.

I wake up, his arms still tightly holding on to me, realization dawns upon me. I stand, he abruptly pulls me back “Please don’t, don’t close back…not when you let me see you” I stare at the floor. All I have in me is one breath, one whisper “Please leave”.  He sighs and walks to the door, He gives me a friendly hug; while I am holding him for the last time “I Mean it “  A soft click of a lock and he is gone.

There it was once more; that “slap in the face” and the “I’ve just been punched in the gut” breath. I wonder when I will finally break, stop feeling, Just… Stop. But it won’t…it never will.

I have nothing left, no heart, no pride, and no soul. As I sink against the door playing with the unfamiliar ring I woke up wearing, his words come back to me:

“Look at me”

“Get lost with me, forget poise and rationality”

“You’re beautiful”

“God I missed you, I missed this”

“Why pretend? Open your eyes…we’ll always need each other. So go where your deepest longing leads”

“Please don’t, don’t close back…not when you let me see you”

“I mean it”

A stray tear falls down my face, probably the last one I’ll ever cry for him. Greek Gods Came and went on Earth as they wanted, Meddled as they fancied and once they tired of human company  they went back to Olympia , never once looking back at the ruins they leave behind. I lost me because I love him; I say this while looking at them, typing to you and with every word I type the ring on my finger shines in the sun.

I’m looking at them holding hands, walking. He’s giving her the smiles he never gave me…tucking an unruly curl behind her ear, kissing her forehead, it’s gentle, and its love.

The tough thing about “following your heart” is what people forget to mention: that sometimes your heart takes you to places you shouldn’t be, places that are as scary as they are exciting and as dangerous as they are alluring. Places that can never lead to a happy ending. And that’s not even the difficult part. The difficult part is: when you “follow your heart”, you leave normal and you go into the unknown. And once you do, you can never go back.

You think you know someone, but you don’t. You think it’s pretty clear you want nothing to do with them, but it’s not….it never is. You think no one can save you and you’re falling into a world where you’ve ceased to exist…until one day someone pulls you out. But you fall apart again.

Thomas Edison said something like: One does not fail 1000 times; they just find 1000 ways that won’t work. The future; depends on the ability and necessity to let go of the past. One is not able to move forward in life until he has surpassed his mistakes and everything else that wounded its heart. We shouldn’t wait until everything is right, it will never be. There will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions the thing to realize is: “So what?!?” Life is a journey, and with each step you take, you will grow stronger and more skilled, more self-confident and more successful. People will hate you for it, and your life will be worst.

Just remember that were you succeed they fail, where you fail? Keep in mind that success is not final, failure is not fatal and that it is the courage to continue that counts. I learned to dream as if you’ll live forever and live as if you’ll die today. It’s not what you have that makes you who you are; it’s not what people say that should make you cry, and that even the day after tomorrow will one day be yesterday. I learned in one day that tears teach you how to let go, how to accept who you are, and how to shoot for the moon because even if you miss, you might land among the stars.

Playing small doesn’t serve the world. I would much rather have regrets about not doing what people said, than regretting not doing what my heart led me to and wondering what life had been like if I’d just been myself. There’s nothing progressive about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. So one should square their shoulders and wipe their tears, Stop acting as if life was a rehearsal, because, the past is over and gone IF you want it to be, but the future is not guaranteed.

* * * that’s what I learned***