When I first started NazarBlue, I created two posts; Good Things Come to Those Who Wait and Time to Fly.
Then, as the months flew by and the floodgates for storytelling and writing opened, I unknowingly combined the two posts and wrote a tale of patience and dignity.
So now I share with you my latest story, The Kingfisher and the Persimmon Tree.
If you enjoy this story, you may like to browse through my Fairy Tales for Adults.
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Every life is full of ups and downs – of tragedy and comedy, choices, hope, longing, ambition. The saying ‘Life is what we make it’ rings true in some respects, but what about the things beyond the grasps of our control? We are constantly plagued by decisions whose outcomes will help determine our future, yet unexpected situations arrive on our doorstep, some welcome and others absolutely uninvited.
At times of turmoil, desperate attempts to resolve a troublesome situation serve purely as a tool of self-destruction. When we realise that there is simply nothing we can do to help ourselves, we’re forced to accept that certain things are out of our control.
Contentedness is born from acceptance. Acceptance comes after reflection and crisis. Sometimes crisis is necessary to find out who we are and what we’re capable of and on reflection we realise that a series of happenings has led us to the present situation. Consequences of events, whether good or bad, decipher our destiny. A sense of calm becomes us when we give up trying to fight against the powers that be. Everything will be OK, it always is in the end.
So what is the name of the force behind it all? Kismet. It’s a force which hushes the storm within, it’s the concept which erases frowns and etches smiles.
I’ve mentioned the word Kismet before on NazarBlue, now I want to share my story with you to illustrate its meaning.
Read about a sequence of events so interwoven, it simply has to be fated… Read On…
M's Crowfoot Tattoo
“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.”
~ Crowfoot, 1890, as quoted in Catch the Whisper of the Wind