Power is but a mere stage and nothing more, in which a man puts on display not a character, but the nature of his own character, the very nakedness of a man’s soul for all the world to see.
Pity those with a beautiful face, for it is beauty wasted. Existing in its cheapest and weakest form, unable withstand time, appreciated within a mere span of a glance. Cherish those who did not waste their beauty upon themselves, those who have mastered the ability to apply it to their surroundings, produced a beauty that lasts, a beauty that takes a lifetime to know.
The saddest thing of this life, is that for many its real meaning, its true purpose is only understood in the end. Perhaps that is the curse of being human, to finally be able appreciate life when there is not much left to live.
“Judge not a man by with which name he calls god, rather judge what he does in his name”
It is only until we find ourselves loving another, that we are truly forced to confront the power of our own humanity.
There is no joy in revenge, it is but the path of emptiness, the path of utter poverty. In marching down it I have brought my enemy suffering as they did me, yet it is I who feels who wronged, who is being robbed of peace. I traded away the bitter pill of forgiveness for the sweet poison of vengeance.
Something thats been on my mind recently and its been bothering me, is the amount of people that talk shit about Brampton. Yeah its not perfect, but is home. The 19 year old me, being young and rebellious also hated it, fuck this place, was my attitude towards Brampton.. So I left for another city. I went to study criminology and then human rights, but what I feel in the 5 years there, the most important thing learned was what separates a place from a home. A place is defined by location, buildings, tangible things that can be measured. A home however is not defined by those things, rather its by feelings and memories, things that cannot be measured, yet real all the same. To me in the end, Brantford became merely a place, Brampton was Home. And it how it could not be? First friends, first love, first jobs, first achievements all happened here, from here. Its not just me, but for a lot of people who grew up up in this city. It is home. This city has a lot of newcomers, filled with hopes and dreams. For some that is a problem, to hell with them. For the immigrants too Brampton, it too will become home, filled with memories and feelings not to unlike us. Many generations from now when places like Jalandhar, Ludhiana, Hoshiarpur or Amritsar have long since faded from memory, when people ask our descendents where there their families are from, perhaps they will say Brampton. For them too it was a home. I mean if anyone talks shit about Brampton being in it, its because they see it as a place, not a home.
“A man at any given time in his life, lives as three beings,not one despite them sharing all sharing a name. Those being reside in the hearts and minds of others, Those who knew him as he once was, Those who knew as he is, and those that know him as he is going to be.”
“There is a big difference between loving your parents as a child and loving your parents as an adult. As a child you love unconditionally, loving them as gods, beings perfect in all regards. As time wears on that perfect image fades, you begin to see the flaws, they no longer are the gods they once were. As an adult it’s not that you come to love them any less however, instead, you begin to love them for what they are, as human beings.”
“knowledge is a burden, curse and a blessing all the same, for knowledge is merely the gift of sight in the darkness of ignorance, we do not dictate what we see, both wonders and horrors witnessed all the same.”