Through loneliness and sorrow, I noted the beauty of the rain from a very young age, when my own pains were difficult to understand then.
I grew up alongside many cousins, my siblings, and beneath the sheltering love of my grandparents, aunties and uncles, and parents.
They each had something to do with the cloth of national pride I wear with a smile.
Family in Samoa, when done right, and as you and I both know, is a curing thing.
It means more than anything. And when such a tie is loose and fake, the plastic lives we emanate shine out too. So, I ponder on the rain when I feel there is too much plastic things in the world. For Samoa, a plastic kind of existence is denial of poverty through the abuse of children, boys included.
But to hear the rain and feel it too, is a wonderful thing. It is when you can understand that, like the rain, nothing stays. Knowing such a fact is not enough if we do not accept it.
What if you close your eyes, and you can see clearly the world beyond us, that one which takes our living souls? If every pain was unbearable, I hope for the pained amongst us to find the mystery of the unseen worlds I am trying to write about.
My ill stricken sister, whom I truly adore for her courage and witty nutty sense of humor, cracked a joke when I mentioned the possibilities of seeing the place where our souls end up in.
She said, if that was possible, nobody would waste time in fighting one another. We laughed at the mention of public enemies holding hands to their grave.
So many people with families and loved ones, against each other for the sake of the same thing, well, indirectly. Some partake in the practice of justice and others to go against it.
Either way, the equation is always unbalanced, because the family is forgotten, as the one man band entity of egotistical ways shines more in our modern ways. Are we praising the wrong people in our midst? I think so, because the ones who suffer the most are always silent.
And through suffering, one longs to know the meaning of life.
Going deeper into such a quest arrives at the end of the rainfall, the rainbow. The fear of death is a miraculous thing is you ask me because it reminds of the limitations of humanity. It reminds of the inferiority of the human being to his maker. But I am always, as a seeker, excited about the subject as I ponder on the meaning of life and ethereal things beyond it.
Imagine the loss of narcissistic people and abusive ones from the knowledge of the kingdom of souls. Imagine a world filled with genuine people who love unconditionally and seriously! Oh I cannot even begin to mention the contentment of poets at writing about things of beauty without darkness lurking.
Oh yes there is always love to cure the deep ends of our pain. We cannot undo the virtues given to us as things to wear and honor ourselves with.
Which reminds me that when I am facing the news of North Korea and the bombs, aimed at everyone, do you fear death or do you laugh out loud? Whichever emotion you land upon first, remember that the unkind things of this world are given to us for a purpose.
It is when we are to be reminded that there is a thin line between our human lives and our destiny. Plastic or authentic are opposites. Find your genuine self, and make sure you cleanse it from time to time. I am talking about your heart.
Take good care, and listen to the rain. God speed, my fellow Samoans.