3 Day Quote Challenge! Day 1

 

Hi, guys!! It’s so good to see your beautiful faces! This post is a milestone for this blog and for the entire 4D family of followers and friends. This is my first 3 Day Quote Challenge on this blog. Let’s get right into it 🙂

First of all let me explain the rules.

1. Thank the person who nominated you.
2. Post a quote each day, for 3 consecutive days and say why it appeals to you.
3. Nominate 3 different bloggers each day! 🙂

I would love to thank 4 amazing people who nominated me for this challenge.

1. Grief to life – https://grieftolife.com/
2. Sunshine – https://kerri-elizabeth.com/
3. Living What You Love – https://rominascorner.wordpress.com/
4. Stuart L. Tutt – https://stubaby777.wordpress.com/

Do go check out their blogs. They are amazing bloggers and even more amazing people. I am always humbled by every comment, every nomination and every like you give. Thank you guys, for making this possible. God bless you!

I was given four nominations. Though I would have loved to take each one and do them separately, time would not allow me. So, I decided to bring them all together and do one challenge. 🙂

Here’s to an exciting 3 days!

Since this is my first time doing this, I wanted it to be something special, something different. These 3 days are going to be a window to my earlier posts. For the next three days, each day, I am going to summarise one old post of mine into a small original quote. I hope you like it. I will also leave a link to the post in the end if you want to get the bigger picture.

Here’s the first quote!

 

So often life can be like a white blank room with only you and your shadow. But that shadow will tell you that somewhere in the blankness of life, there is a light shining.

 

This is from my post, ‘the diary entry in the cupboard’. It was a tribute to my lovely grandfather, who is a great inspiration to me, even though he is no longer here.

You can read the post here :

https://thefourthdimensionoflife.wordpress.com/2017/06/03/the-diary-entry-in-the-cupboard/

 

Why this quote means a lot to me:

It is a simple logic that passes through my mind when life gets tough. Whenever I’ve fallen down, God has always told me that the night is always the darkest before the dawn. This is a picture I like to think of when life gets tough. I hope it uplifts you in some way.

 

My nominees for today!

1. Marisa Donnelly : https://marisadonnelly.com/
2. Life is short, I believe in making the most of it : https://totalbradnessblog.wordpress.com/
3. Alethea’s Mind : https://aletheasmind.wordpress.com/

 

Have a great day guys! God bless! 🙂

 

Nostalgia

Books are like machines. Your hands are like oil to its cogs, keeping them alive and working in your mind. – Stefan 🙂

The paint brush shakes in my hand as I try to make a delicate stroke. I hear the alarm, it’s 6.00 a.m. I flinch, the paint at the end of my brush seems to explode and fall onto the paper below me. The sun seems to peep over the horizon, it’s rays changing the colour of the unfinished piece of art. I smile. Another night. It’s not like I’ve always loved working in the peace of the night, but as of late, I’ve been enjoying one specific part, always watching the sunrise and never missing it.

I sigh, put my head back and close my eyes, sinking into my chair, just enjoying the moment. I open them and look at the slow swish of the blades of the fan, cutting the deep yellow rays of the morning sun. I sit up and look around on my desk. It’s a mess. My eyes drift to the stack of books on my desk.

I feel sad.

From when I was a child, books have been my friends. Being shy, I never had many friends and so, I always had a lot of time on my hands. With no TV to stare at and no video games in my reach, I would turn to books, with an excitement that is amazing, even to think about.

As time passed, I found more and more things to occupy my time with. A 30 year old guitar lying around the house was a turning point in my life. I took it in my hands, and I could feel it, the indefinite potential and the promise of great joy. So I spent every minute I had with it. My dislike for musical notations and my desperation to learn, somehow taught me to learn the guitar without them and I embarked on a new journey, but in taking that turn, I forgot all about books, I forgot about the wave of energy and excitement that flooded me when I saw a new book. The sound of music somehow replaced it, but it never completely filled it, because the excitement was different, the experiences unique on their own accord.

Time passed and I started exploring my childhood love to draw and paint. My endeavors on the blank paper took the time that my musical explorations left behind. Again, my books were left behind, and they mournfully looked on from the shelf, where dust settled on them as the clock ticked on, increasing my guilt. But I ignored it, justifying it as the unavoidable result of my development into an all-rounder, something I’ve always worked towards.

Time passed on…………

Then came into my life a new challenge. Long gone were the days when I could play music and live life easy and get an A on all my papers studying overnight. My backpack got heavier each year and the assignments piled up, taking what little vestige of time I had left.

The dust settled inching it’s way into another millimeter every year, camouflaging my once beloved friends, blending them with the furniture and what else there was that never moved.

Now here I am. School’s over and my guitar sits in it’s case. My paint sits safe in the back of my drawer. They are still alive in my life however, adding perspective and colour to everything I do. But they don’t take up much of the clock. Not like they used to.

I wonder what I could do to use my time well………

I get up from my chair and move over to my books. I take one and wipe the dust from it’s cover.

Nostalgia! That must be how I can best describe it. A longing for a time past, an excitement that took me through at least five books a week.
I look at the book with love. I open it. Then I look at my bed. I should probably sleep. The book looks at me. It somehow seems to understand. ‘No Worries’ seems to hang out from it like a placard.
Not this time, I say. Not this time.
I sit down once again, this time with a book in my hand.

Have you ever felt like I did? Do you have a hobby you lost in time?

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God bless! 😊

Explosion

‘Every work of art is an explosion of a lifetime of creative thoughts that passes through the mind of an artist’ – Stefan 🙂

For many years I’ve felt that our fascination for many things is very much connected to our inability to explain our object of fascination. It is not the factual information we know that raises our fascination but what we don’t know.

Every song, every book, every blog post, every word you say is influenced by the information you have collected from your birth to that moment in your life. Every creation is a result of millions of thoughts of a unique person and thus, a unique way of thinking.

When you look at the Mona Lisa, you see the result of the millions of thoughts that passed through the mind of the great Leonardo Da Vinci in the many years he spent before that canvas. And you immediately question why he painted it. You look for an answer in the canvas before you. An answer for a question that is explained completely only by the millions of thoughts that passed through the complicated mind of the famous painter.

The ‘what’ question is not the signature of human fascination. It is merely a bridge to the first question that sparks research – the ‘why’

When you see art, it is like standing in the middle of an explosion of millions of creative thoughts that could have passed through the mind of an artist. An explosion sparked by a question of ‘why’ it’s there, why the artist made it the way it is. You only see a few fragments during the explosion, parts of the painting or the song that clicks with you. Different people see different fragments of the creativity of the artist and we all form our own opinions and conclusions.

We are all great artists in the sense that we all feel a very similar level of emotion when we are creating something new. The difference lies in how well we are able to take the person witnessing our work of art, to the level of emotion we were at, when we were creating the art. There is the art that talks of great complex things, philosophy and ideology, and then there is the art that talks of simple things, everyday things that we all know of. But both find place in the museum.

It’s not just about what you speak but how you convey it.

Songs, poems, paintings and novels are all explosions of somebody’s creative thoughts that evolved through a lifetime of thinking. Many strings of thought, forced into a small canvas or a 3 minute song. Kinda like taking all the water on the earth and filling it into a balloon

This is why successful people are often people who’ve been denied and rejected many times. The time they spend, sticking to what they do, one day, becomes really explosive. Their strings of thought and experience become so long, they cannot be forced into a few words or a few strokes of paint. But when they do, they are explosive. You can’t figure it all out. There’s no cliché when you read a really explosive story. You just can’t predict what happens next. You have no idea of what’s going on!

Why?

Because there is a lot of input that went into it. A lot of detail, detail that makes it more real to you.

What is your passion? What do you have in abundance? What is that hidden talent?

Bring it on! Put everything you know out there. Use every ounce of resource you have. And then force it into as small a package as you can. Make it into a blog post, a painting, a song. Make it explosive.

Why did Da Vinci spend 12 years of his life before the Mona Lisa?

He was bringing in all he knew, he was trying to put in all those millions of creative thoughts and ideas into that one canvas that would change history. He was creating something explosive. He was creating a ‘masterpiece’!

It’s all about an endless space of remarkable potential, a blank space. It’s all about filling it with who you are and what you know.

Every work of art is an explosion. Some are small and some are big, but behind every work of art, there is a very similar excitement. It’s all about bringing that out. It takes time and in time, that explosion of words and that explosion of colour, grows into something magnificent, something that changes history.

Let’s all work on our small explosions. Let’s stick to it and make it something wonderful!

God bless!

What do you think about ‘explosion’ ?

Comment. Share. Be a part of the movement! 🙂

Music is Everywhere!

Hey guys,

Today I am going to attempt to share with you how I see music in the surroundings around me. I hope you like it.

The sun just came out. It’s morning!

I slide out of bed on to the floor and just lie there looking at the blades of the fan on the ceiling as they cut through air. The sun fills my room with a yellow light. A flickering shadow appears on the ceiling above my fan as it’s blades cut through the light. I smile. I lie down there and say my prayers. ‘Good morning, God. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ He smiles down at me.

I look at the ceiling again. The light from the sun is more of a brighter yellow now. As it flickers on the ceiling, I see a silent beat. The fan’s blades swish through the air like the drum sticks in the hands of a drummer.

I smile. Welcome to my new song, ladies and gentlemen. So glad you could drop by. I jump into action. I moonwalk into the bathroom, brush my teeth dancing, put on some clothes and grab my guitar. The silent beat I saw, playing in my mind.

I go into the kitchen, give my mom a hug, say hi to my dad and open the front door. It squeaks. Like a synthesizer.

Now to get my bassline.

I go to the lift. It’s at floor 8. I press the button. The lift comes down one floor at a time. It stops at 5, then resumes it’s descent to my floor. I follow it’s progress in the language of  music. Silent music. I hear a ping as the lift opens. Bassline?

I get in and I start ascending. I am heading for the top. On the way, I hear a baby cry. Hmm. Shorten the time period, increase the pitch and you get a classic Michael Jackson. My song starts to feel like an old 80s song.

Anyway.

I get to the terrace. I make clap sounds as I climb up the stairs to the terrace.

I am out in the open now. The wind hits me with a gentle nudge. I hear it pass through small cracks here and there. There’s a flute in the house!

I sit down and put my fingers to the guitar. I tap on it and give sound to my silent beat. My fingers now slide up the fret board, a little pressure here, a little pressure there. My fingers pluck on the strings. They come to life. The yellow morning sun makes a colourful reflection on my guitar.

I imagine myself in front of millions of people, like all amateur musicians out there ( I am pretty amateur ). The chorus comes in and I hear a choir as the wind gets faster. I smile. An electric guitar kicks on somewhere in my mind. A slow lead line follows. The clouds now move slowly. We end our first song with a crescendo.

I smile, thank God for the day. Now to get some breakfast. I’m starving!

What music do you see in your surroundings?

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The song of the rain

For those of you guys who know me and read my blog posts( I am extremely grateful to you for your interest, time and feedback), you know how I am greatly inspired by rain and sunlight. One of my favourite hobbies is just sitting in front of my window looking out into the rain, my head resting on my palms and making up lines of poetry, not necessarily with rhyme schemes and alliteration, but just filled with what I love.

Today as I was reading some blogs, I heard a tug on my door. I looked outside and the trees were bending so hard, I thought they were going to break. I live in a flat. This means the only sounds I hear are the soft strokes of the heavy wind on my window and the small rain drops sky diving onto its glass.

I used to live in a house before where I could hear the pouring rain on the roof and the wind was more noisy. Here in the flat, I hear only the softest sounds as the roof is much higher above me. This thought absolutely inspired me and I am going to do something new today. I am just going to sit down and write the verses that come to my head, whatever they may be. This is an example of my ‘a day(rainy) in the life’. This is for all you poets out there. Please tell me what you think. I would absolutely love to hear from you!

I sit in front of the window, my head on my palms. My fingers lightly rub my cheek in the excitement of what is outside. It is as if the heart of the earth is beating normal, but its blood is going fast, craving for the heart to somehow keep up.  For inside my room, the atmosphere is calm and gentle, but on the outside, where it really matters, everything is fast. It is a strange strangeness, a beautiful confusion.

I blink as a flash of lightning erupts in the sky, cutting the dark and bringing light. Seems very strange that from the very clouds that make it dark, a light would shine. God suddenly seems to whisper in my ear-‘Just as I make ‘everything’, even the hard and painful things in life work out for you for the better because you love me’. I smile and my eyes dart back to the rain.

The trees are now bowing, the branches like hairs on end. I get up and slowly and carefully open my window a few inches, air gushes in and sends the papers on my desk flying. They seem to be jumping up and down, happy! I stand and look. The door of my room slams shut and I am thrown back into reality. I shut the door and sit back again.

I hear the orchestra playing outside, like the ocean in a sea shell, somehow refined and coloured just for me. Now and then a drop hits my window creating a rhythm  so consistent, it baffles my senses of logic. I lie down and hear the wind outside. Here in my bed, inside my blanket, wrapped up in a cocoon, like a butterfly waiting to go out, into a world that will be brand new in a matter of minutes, I feel nothing but hear.

My eyelids start to droop, ever so slightly and the lightning outside wakes me up. My eyelids droop again, this time, the lightning is not heard. My brain stops worrying about the rain, but I still hear it somehow and then I lie there still, my mouth slightly open. Why do I always sleep with my mouth open??

The rain stops after a while. It slows it’s song down to a whisper then to a single drop. Very much like the tap of a pencil on a cymbal, dull but unique. The song of the rain is somehow strange. Instead of starting with a whisper and ending in a crescendo, it does the exact opposite. God is indeed a great artist. His song of the rain is my favourite yet.

 

If you like this, also check out an earlier post of mine very much like this and tell me if you want more posts like these. Hope you guys have a fantastic day and God bless!!!!

https://thefourthdimensionoflife.wordpress.com/2017/07/16/when-leaves-bow/