have a sip of tea - life at first acceptance

have a pot of tea.

imagine sipping from a warm pot of tea.

when you take that first sip,

what type of tea did you imagine drinking?

is it light?

bitter?

sweet?

was the flavor,

a delicate blend of chamomile and honey?

soothing your senses with its gentle sweetness?

'cause in a world transformed by a pandemic,

a pot of tea became a sanctuary.

its warmth embraced us,

a refuge from realities.

throughout the pandemic,

our lives transformed in unpredictable ways.

in that tranquil moment,

dreams are woven into reality.

dreams intertwined with reality,

a tapestry woven with hope and hardship.

so did you dream a dream?

'cause we did.

ever wonder how one pandemic has changed all of us.

for the better or not,

it depend.

across digital landscapes,

crossing oceans.

we found solace in newfound friendships from corners of the world we'd never have explored otherwise.

new friendships blossomed,

transcending borders,

defying oceans.

oceans were crossed,

not just in miles but in experiences shared.

we navigated this uncharted territory,

how was yours like?

ours was wild.

our shared journey wild and untamed.

some said sometimes it takes ten years to get that one year that changes your life,

ours did.

let me tell you our story for CreateTogether.

and you can decide on what you think.

life at first acceptance.

in the days before screens and tech,

life hummed with motion, unbroken by pixels.

people were forced to play outside.

children chased dreams with games of hopscotch, basketball, chess, mahjong, ping pong, and flag football, their laughter untouched by notifications.

no online distractions (no video games, no breaking news, no online streams)—only outdoor pursuits:

checker, archery, kick ball, sports, melodies, and skies that seemed infinite and days felt nice.

only the laughter of hide-and-seek,

the thrill of ice skating, the climb of a mountain,

life was lived in motion.

life felt simple, untouched by distractions.

but simplicity did not mean perfection, life held its shadows.

child marriages were not uncommon;

some found love through matchmakers,

others were betrothed before their first steps,

others endured unions etched in tradition.

same-sex unions didn’t exist, unseen—

not because they couldn’t, but because they wouldn’t

until australia passed a new precedent for LBGT marriage.

so not by nature's design, but society's decree.

history carved itself into stone

& society’s walls were firm

even as pyramids rose, stretched across continents,

monuments kissed the heavens,

great towers, and sacred shrines rose to touch the skies.

each culture left its mark,

roots deep, entwined, and hard to pull.

yet humanity etched its mark on the world: pyramid of giza, the great walls, the taj mahal, eiffel tower, taipei 101, louvre pyramid, statue of liberty, white house, blue house, even fanspians, great and small.

cultures blossomed, roots in tradition, faith running deep,

hard to uproot, hard to sweep away.

change may come, but history stays,

but time, relentless as the tide, unyielding,

sweeps old rules into dust.

child marriages crumble, fading from many lands like south america and beyond,

old rules are being abolished in parts of the land,

laws crumble under the weight of new precedents.

what once stood firm now turn into dust replaced by new precedents—change, bold and fair.

leaving tradition to reckon with the present.

yet some endure,

some roots sprout too deep to sever.

religion and culture linger,

wrapped around the lives of those

who cannot, or will not, yield,

like shadows cast by history's light.

faith, culture, and habits resist erasure,

rooted in generations which buried deep in the hearts

of those born into them refusing to be easily unmade,

traditions falter, lose their grip;

their stories dim, no longer told.

time erodes what we thought immutable.

change rushes like a tide,

leaving the past no place to hide.

old rules dissolve, swept away by new tides each new day,

what once was law now turns to air.

but some things remain:

the pull of history, the yearning for belonging,

& the choice to accept,

fully and without hesitation.

people whispers of change, but history,

with its cyclical and stubborn nature,

has a way of repeating itself in quiet ways.

abuse leaves bruises both body and soul—

physical, mental—

yet many endure it.

& many stay, bound by fear or comfort, though harsh, in its own strange way, feels safe, feels near,

even when love whistles fear,

for even in discomfort,

even when it may not be good for them,

even when it breaks more than it builds,

some stay.

there is a strange kind of solace in the familiar.

this mirrors love,

or perhaps relationships.

as time goes on,

many choose to settle,

others bend rather than break where they once stood firm.

what you think you do not want or for you

is not and may not yours to decide or to judge for another.

what one defends, another may reject.

what feels wrong for one,

may feel right for someone else.

cause for what’s right for you may not align,

with what’s right for another in their time.

do not complain of the paths others take.

& some no longer wish to wait,

cause they refuse to wait any longer—

it's their life, their decision to make.

their body, their voice,

their right to choose,

a path they alone will use.

for what is life,

if not a series of choices—

to build, to break, to endure, to change,

& to make peace with all that comes after?

don’t complain of choices made,

for it’s the path their heart has laid.

abuse may bruise,

love may falter,

some learn to compromise; some endure,

but they play the hand life deals them,

making the best of what they can and what life throw their way and in that moment.

by facing and accepting the hand they're dealt,

thrown by life, a shifting sand.

life's choice are ours to bear.

each choice carries a weight,

each decision is its own responsibility—

do not complain about decisions made and its outcomes,

for their choices are theirs alone.

you cannot pick only the parts you like and discard the rest.

to choose is to accept fully—

not in fragments, but wholly, every pieces of the whole.

cause you do not get to choose which part you accept & which part you don't,

you cannot pick and claim only the joys of a choice

& discard the rest and rejecting its consequences.

cause half a choice tears at the heart.

just as with religion, whole and true:

you do not have the right to pick and choose what pleases and suits you and what not.

to believe is to commit, wholly and fully.

if you claim tolerance and tolerating others,

you can't pick and choose what to accept and what to reject.

cause you cannot choose who or what to tolerate.

tolerance, too, demands completeness.

tolerance is not division;

it is to accept it all, as they are.

an unbroken circle of acceptance,

it is not a buffet where you take what pleases you and reject the rest.

so to tolerance is to fully accept,

to welcome all—each piece, each soul, each time and space, with open arms as they are.

otherwise, that is not adhered to as "tolerate,"

it is division masquerading as virtue.

even those who seem delusional,

those we do not understand—

their paths are shaped by reasons

we cannot see,

cause their mind are zap.

for life repeats itself,

but each repetition is a chance

to question,

to create something better.

what you think you do not want

may not be yours to decide for another.

& in the end,

what feels wrong to one

may still be right for another.

just like delusional peeps,

there is a reason behind why they're delusional,

cause they're mental,

what other explanation could there be?

or why else;

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#createtogether #haveasipoftea #lifeatfirst #lifeatfirstacceptance