Making the world read, One story at a time, Inspiring a generation, One soul at a time.

Writing is all that is left – Part 2

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2 a.m in the morning. I just got into bed after a hilarious one or so something hours of Zoolander (Dear God that movie is stupid!). I tossed and turned for a few minutes before accepting that I’m just not sleepy… yet. Then I remembered that the thing I craved most of all about getting a new laptop is the chance to do something constructive, or just active, with my insomnia. And, well, we all know that writing is my go-to. So here I am.

I don’t exactly have a topic I want to embark on tonight. To be quite frank I have no idea where I’m going with this. But God it feels so good to write!! It feels like… like I’m in another world if I’m honest. One where all my dreams are not only possible but are actually real.

Actually here.
In this world, I’m traveling to coast by plane. Not because I feel entitled and can’t ride a bus or anything, but only because I haven’t been on a flight yet. I get on that small gadget the Wright Brothers invented, and the beauty of this all is the excitement, the exhilaration of doing something new. At this moment, I totally understand what my buddy Richard Branson meant when he said, “Don’t ever lose the excitement of discovering something new.”
In this world, I’m sitting by the beach. The sun is not nearly as blisteringly hot as it would be in reality. The palm trees are more aloof than could ever be. There are laughter and shrieks all around, and I’m watching it all, smiling quietly as I write all about it. The little kids are running into the ocean and then scampering back ashore as the waves roll in. The lovers are walking hand in hand, probably on their honeymoon. The beach boys are shouting out all sorts of services they offer for a tuppence. It’s a typical day at the beach. I love every minute of it.

I get back there in the dark of night. This time, all is quiet, all souls are deep in slumber. All but the ocean, whose spirit is alive and ferocious. The only thing I hear is the crashing waves as they hit shore. Tide after tide after tide. I have to tell you, few things in this world bring out inner peace. The heart of the ocean is one of them.
In this world, I’m back home. Only, I don’t live with my parents. I have my own little apartment. It has a balcony with a beautiful view of the sunset. It has a small kitchenette where I make cinnamon pancakes when I’ve got cravings. There are paintings all over the walls- some made by me, some by actual artists (hehe, not that I doubt my skills) My loo has a tiny stack of magazines and novels (100% comfort as you do your business if you ask me) My friends won’t quit teasing me about it every time they come over) On the balcony, there are little pots of flowers. I don’t know them by name, but they make me so happy every time I sit with my coffee just gazing out. Among the flowers are a few herbs that Winnie said were good for me. Their scent, Lord their deep, earthy smell just gets me. That little garden makes me so proud. Maybe I should do a bit of spinach here while I’m at it.

In this world, I wake up each morning full of energy. Before I get out of bed, I remember my mantra; “Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in Spirit, serve the Lord.” And that is what I am dedicated to. Each day I purpose to follow excellence because I know that success will chase my pants down. At this moment (the real moment), I don’t see that distinction is being a teacher. I don’t know that it’s a mentor. I don’t know that it’s an artist, a counselor, an agribusiness consultant. I don’t see that it’s all of these things, or that it’s none of them. What I do know is that whatever the combination, I am definitely kicking ass. When I get into my oh-so-cozy bed each night, I smile knowing that I have lived my mantra, and now I can rest.
In this world, the thing I see almost most clearly of all, is a moment such as this one. Whether in a coffee shop, trying a new variance of latte, or in a bus, on my way to Tafaria (I’m definitely going there soon) Whether in my office, on a lazy afternoon, or in my house, listening to Tanya Stephens. I’m seated as comfortably as I can get, I have this beautiful machine on my lap, this goofy smile on my face, and I’m typing. I amuse myself with little jokes I’m inserting. Sometimes I cry because the story is too emotional. On some days I even forget my laptop. So now I’m at Java, waiting for a friend, busy with a pen and notebook. I don’t know that I exist without writing, even the dumbest of things. I don’t know that I ever was not connected to this great lurrrrrve of mine. But the thing I see most of all, even without knowing how, is that my words shall impact people. And someday soon I’ll be the one getting interviewed (whoop whoop!)
So, back to 2a.m. Back to reality. My tush is a bit sore from sitting up. My eyes are starting to get a bit heavy. But my heart is doing a little dance in excitement. This is the first piece on this laptop. Hopefully the start of many. Hopefully the beginning of a legacy. Because these dreams, they remain nothing but… dreams. And who wants to forever swoon at fantasies when they could actually turn them into the real deal?

Via Maggie Mungai

Read Part 1 of Writing is all that is left.

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About Author

Just another guy, husband to a beautiful wife, sucker for nostalgia, good things past, better things ahead. Trying to make the world read, one soul at a time. Forging my own path, creating something beautiful. I'm certain you'll want in along the way. So just chip in.

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