What was God really testing?

Adam (A clever reworking of the Garden of Eden myth):

Oh to lie upon her
Her nakedness is all
I simply orchestrated
That horizontal fall
And had no wrong intentions
And cared about no tree
I simply lay with her
And she with me

It is all Chinese whispers
It all gets told askew
I simply kissed the lips
That kissed the apple dew

It is believed that God placed a tree in the garden which he prohibited Adam and Eve to eat from. However, a serpent tricked them into eating from it, and they were subsequently expelled from the garden for disobeying God, who visits upon them and their progeny numerous hardships as punishment.

Could Adam have blamed Eve, just like today's man blames his woman for his own faults?
Could that have been the real test which he failed and the reason behind the misery that was brought upon both of them?
What was God really testing? 

Sources:
Poem- 'Adam' by Luke Davies
Excerpt-'It is believed..Punishment.' from Wikipedia

Own thoughts Italicised.

Love her story.

Watch "Jewel - Hands (Live Acoustic)" on YouTube

This, remember this.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/32-signs-youre-dating-a-keeper/

A find.

http://www.common-place.org/interim/poetry/legault.shtml

No Means No, No Matter Who Says It | Thought Catalog

No Means No, No Matter Who Says It | Thought Catalog

A Twenty Something Nothing: Thank Your Ex

An article by DANIELLE CAMPOAMOR 

(Thanks for putting almost exactly what I feel into words woven together like this.)

A Twenty Something Nothing: Thank Your Ex: I've come to realize, rather recently, that females are pretty hard on their exes. Yes. Yes. Even yours truly. And such unabashed rage a...

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Came across this in an article.

Must read these lines frequently.

Here’s the problem with taking yourself too seriously: every experience you have can potentially jeopardize your self-importance. When your self-importance is jeopardized you become defensive, and then eventually stop doing whatever it was you were trying to get good at.

Reel Guilty.

How do you escape from tough situations?

By escaping into the world of sitcoms.
Before you know it, the situation is even worse and there are no more escape routes left.

You've got to pull yourself out of their world and back into your own world, made heavier with the weight of the unsolved problems.

Along the way, as you savoured in the comfort brought to you by the visual world of stories, you weave your own stories to your loved ones to keep them at bay from knowing what you're really upto. Absolutely nothing.

Liar, liar, your own life's on fire.

If this song doesn't avert a break-up, I don't know what will.

Bono, you know.

All the self initiated Social Media Blockings couldn't keep me from wanting to see a glimpse of his life.
I took to Google search after U2 pointed out how he was even better than the real thing. Oh yes.

Now considering how Google search hardly ever gives the right results when it comes to ordinary people, my heavy heart was prepared to see results that wouldn't take me to him.

U2 is magical.

There he was. The 1st result.
Carrying the title of Event Head alongside the mobile number so deeply carved inside my memory, I wondered how it managed to invoke the next emotion- Surprise.

Surprise followed by sheer joy.
I was happy. I was elated.
I am, still.

To see him succeed in his life makes me tremendously happy.

To be honest, I felt relieved after my facial muscles relaxed in a few minutes.
But the relief had nothing to do with the relaxation of the foolish smile (which was still present, faintly.)

I realised, it's a step. A positive step.
Maybe I'm not so horrible.

My heart is where it's always been.

If only one more time.

Hope is despair in disguise.

I've always been at loggerheads over the idea of hope.
I've tried to embrace it at times and I've shirked it off my shoulder at other instances.

To believe in the contrary, to let your feelings take over to give you a sense of control over the unknown, to coax yourself with the thought of that shining bright light waiting at the end of the dark tunnel you've been trodding on- Is it really necessary to get you through the hard times?

Come to think of it, hope is despair in disguise.

Our fixation with positivity leads us down the road of misconstruing our own thoughts and sugar coating the bitter truths with one too many spoonful of diabetic hope.

It soon turns into a habit. A disease. A coping mechanism with a faulty foundation.

Hope. Belief. Are they the words that get you through the day?

I'd say, be a realist, take the beating, acknowledge the faults, get up and carry yourself forward.
But please don't hope for the best.
Don't let yourself be disillusioned by its sweetness.

Don't forget the bad times. Don't forget the good times. Take it all in.

Just don't raise your own expectations by believing and rooting for the next thing that comes your way to be a cakewalk through Candyland.

Let's not, for once, hope for the best.
What's the point in getting your spirits down?

Let's just be.

A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.
-Charles Bukowski

A song that one can never forget.
Lyrics that quench my heart's long debt.


Dropping through sky
Through the glass of the roof
Through the roof of your mouth
Through the mouth of your eye
Through the eye of the needle
It's easier for me to get closer to heaven
Than ever feel whole again.

remember how it used to be
when the stars would fill the sky
remember how we used to dream
those nights would never end
those nights would never end

it was the sweetness of your skin
it was the hope of all we might have been
that fills me with the hope to wish
impossible things

but now the sun shines cold
and all the sky is grey
the stars are dimmed by clouds and tears
and all i wish
is gone away
all i wish
is gone away

all i wish
is gone away

Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer: Yes, losing your heart's desire is tragic. But gaining your heart's desire? That's all you can hope for. This year I wished for love... to immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart long afraid to feel. My wish was granted. And if having that is tragic, then give me tragedy. Because I wouldn't give it back for the world.

Words, video and melody.
As good as it can get.

The trees trick you 'cause they're always standing still.

If time was really racing by

You could see it when you drive.

Burglebushelgrimeresque

Error error error.
Skeletal skeletal pleasure.
Error eskimo drop.
Skeletal monks fought.

Error error error.
Skeletal skeletal pleasure.

Discovery of the Pataphor

Non-figurative:

Tom and Alice stood side by side in the lunch line.

Metaphor

Tom and Alice stood side by side in the lunch line; two pieces positioned on a chessboard.

Pataphor

Tom took a step closer to Alice and made a date for Friday night, checkmating. Rudy was furious at losing to Margaret so easily and dumped the board on the rose-colored quilt, stomping downstairs.

Is true love just once in a lifetime?

I think 'Keeping up with the Kardashians' came from 'Keeping up with the Joneses'.
It's a weird discovery when Edith Wharton's wiki page takes you there.

A thought:
The perfect gift for guys you want to put in the friend zone: The Hannibal Lecter Mask.

She keeps it all to herself.
Afraid,
that a word lost,
Would crumble the metrics,
that lead to resolution.

The silent turbulent resolution,
which will embed itself,
to fill this newer void of old faces,
that didn't play life fair.

That's the opine,
she's still deliberating in her onerous state.

She hasn't felt the hands of distressed loneliness embrace her this dearly,
since the day she first met her.

The faint memory of those days,
is repeatable.
Unrepeatable,
are those days.

She has known since then,
the wisdom, insight and growth gained,
Is priceless in comparison to the sleepless nights faced.

Just this moment,
She remembers true pain.
Someone she knows,
Can't run from its gaze.

He's been through troubles,
Unfair to the nature of this man,
his deeds claimed.

Yet he's going to lose his father,
In a day.
Time is ruthless,
No one is spared.

Here I begin to realise the frivolity of my woes.
My pain will subside.
His will only feign.

The difference between our wounds,
Makes itself appear.
Mine will bow down to time.
But his will only refract the despair and anger,
accompanying his tonsure.

Came across this on a website and it resonated my thoughts exactly. 



In this life I'm a woman.

In my next life, I'd like to come back as a bear. When you're a bear, you get to hibernate.
You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that. Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

When you're a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you're a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup... gonna be a bear.

Pinned.

Strangers, I don't see anymore.

Sunshine, hides from my woes.

Turn. Twist. Can't zip it no more.
A dull moan echoes my sore.

They come. They care. They swallow the ghosts.

Bad dreams dancing on my tongue.
Tired and awake.
Doing things that numb my brain.

Running on the inside, falling outside.

They say it's over.
Brighter times await me at the nearing horizon.

Believe, I do.
De dum tu do.