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CHRONICLE - Maze (2), by N47 - SEYTOO.COM

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Maze (2)

Chronicles

My father taught me that being a man is not about having a collar that dangles between the legs but rather a behavioral set.

Published on November 02, 2020, N47

I am black in complexion. I am 1.82, I weigh 75 kg, I practice different combat sports. I am very calm and don't like unnecessary chatter, in fact talking is man's worst enemy if left unchecked it can cause irreparable damage. It is reported in a hadith that the first sahaba of the Prophet (SAW) Abu Bakar Sadikh bit his tongue until it bled so that whenever he had to speak, the pain would remind him that he must analyze and measure his words. These are all the reasons why I don't speak much.

I am a lonely and sociable person at the same time. Let me explain. I really like being with friends around a tea discussing life, religion, knowledge, briefly discussing usefully and when I come out of it I can say hey I learned something today. A Chinese maxim says that “each being must know, even master, the three areas of existence: his inner being, his fellows and the elements that surround him.” This is what explains my loneliness, the knowledge of my surroundings. Be silent, observe and learn.

I have never tried to please people, gain acceptance, or manipulate other people's perceptions of me. I just want to share this story with you because it is a band-aid for the soul. A choice is never trivial; it will always affect our life.

However, behind this cold gaze hides a great sentimental one and besides which is not, we all really are. There are things we love more than others, words that touch us more than others. All of these are the feelings that create the emotional, and the emotional is the starting point of sentimentalism. Accepting it allows us a better life and refuting it makes us macho, blind, and worse handicaps us in our relationships with others, especially with women. The weakest of all is the one who denies their weakness. We are thus created, so it is ridiculous to deny it and then the heart and the tears must be of use to something. The first to feel sorrow and joy, and the second to externalize our feelings.

Without words my father taught me that being a man is not about having a collar that dangles between the legs but rather a behavioral set. Until the time of writing this column I have never been intimidated by the greatness of any man or being a fan of anyone because I know him, he never pretends to do what he does. He says and is very consistent in what he does. He is respected by everyone and as far back as I can remember he never forced me to do anything. I remember asking him which field of study to choose when I was doing my BFEM, he said “do what you want to do, but if your choice doesn't work out, don't complain anywhere, own it.” Since that day, I have understood that to be a man is also to be responsible.

I wouldn't want to talk too much about myself but this little presentation was necessary for you to understand my environment through the same of some of my behaviors, the rest I will let you discover it for yourself.

In reality, everything around us is love, whether it is the air we breathe, the natural resources we consume, all of these things are a symbol of the love the Creator has for us. In fact, he is the force which makes men move forward, the light which illuminates our path; in short, the raison d'être of man. However, it is only a word until two beings come to give it meaning.

Whether you end up with or without, you only know great love once. Well, I gave myself entirely to a woman, I gave her four years, four long years of my life, I gave her my trust, I offered her my privacy and I opened my integrity to her to then receive, without having deserve it, the beating of my life. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her, not a day goes by that the scar she left me makes me cry out in pain. It's been years now but no one realizes that my eyes still see only her, that my poor heart has not forgotten her and that she still haunts my thoughts. Where is she? What happened to her? My God but what could I have loved about her; her name was Penda…


From the same contributor, N47


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