Bolu Writes

Through the Lens of Philosophy — My Introduction; Opinion

Philosophy flows through our lens. It is in what we believe, how we move and how we react. Personally, I would compare it to the Yin-Yang. On a ground level, it is the distinction between the feminine and masculine energy, this is true but  often reduced to an argument of gender superiority "a thought of mediocrity".

In a deeper realm, the study of Yin-Yang explores the way of life and pattern of growth.  It was never justification for gender identification but a philosophical introspection. This means, creating balance in the realm of the world "Wu Wei", a state of effortless action, no resistance, just perfect flow.

As a keen learner, In my own terms, the Yin-Yang in our modern world reflects solitude and introspection. Arthur Schopenhauer advocated, only radical men provoke radical thoughts. Radical thoughts, the way to create balance in life.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer



❤️💞❤️

MENTAL MADNESS (PTSD)

I had laid on my bed when it flashed through my head. The incident had occured fifteen years ago, but I had never forgotten. It left me traumatized and battling with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). You might ask. The truth is, in a conservative society like ours, speaking the truth was relative to the person. You could speak your truth and be judged. You could speak your truth and be lashed, especially as a female gender.

Fifteen years ago, that very night. Damola lashed on me and stripped my innocence. He tore me to pieces and left me cold in the streets. I was a garbage dump, the mice that had to snop in bushes to seek safety. Damola was a monster. He wore the clothes of devil yet disguised them as that of an angel. He was a Beast — a Beast of burden to women yet unborn.

I needed to teach him a lesson. You think it's a patriarchal society! I say No! If no one would question the abuser, then the laws of the land belong in my power. Then, I command death and command life. I can call my ghost up to torture the dead. The mad man roaming the streets shouldn't go unpunished. "hysterical laugh" That was it!

I took his soul out of his bottle and broke it into pieces. Who says it's evil?! The supporters of madness. Even though, we call it evil to seek one's soul out of the body without permission. Who says it is right to strip one of innonence? Who says it is right to go free because you're a "superior" gender? Besides, who called you "superior"? The ancestors? Unfortunately, the ancestors made this doom happened then.

You call it evil... "smack". I call myself Harriet Tubman. I fought for my right, either with violence or with peace. I fought till my intestines dropped out of me and began to rot.

Fifteen years and I'm still in a state of Mental Madness.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer
Fiction.

Story To Ponder — 5
Freeverse: Through Depth

Mad men call mad men fools.
Mad men call mad men crazy.
Mad men call mad men Mad.

I wonder...
Who is the mad man?
The one who is mad,
or the one learning madness?

Only fools call men mad —
the kind of fools can't see the madness in themselves.
Schizophrenia lives inside them.

They are mad.

Reflection:
If one could explore depth and the inner of man, life would be grateful. 

Irony huh?

Yes! Because why explain to mad men? Another problem. Let those with a sane mind read and understand.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer.

Stories To Ponder — 4
A Glimpse Of Perspective

If Heaven were real,
I would call on the bird, to sing —
and flowers would bloom into melody .

If Peace were real,
the trees would dance.
Dance in tune with nature.

Reflection

There's nothing to explain.
We all ache for Heaven, we all thirst for Peace — what they mean will always live differently in each of us.

Our definition of either is relative.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writing

Writing is technical.
It is not a combination of vocabulary, but a skill that needs to be sharpened properly.

My Three-week workshop is a collection of everything you need as a beginner writer ready to hone their skills for success.

I will also explain the danger of AI in writing and it's impact.

This is an opportunity for three transformative weeks.

Stop sulking — come and learn.

Click the link below 👇
https://wa.me/2347085622226?text=Hello%20Boluwatife%2C%20my%20name%20is%20[Your%20Name].%20I%20am%20interested%20in%20the%20writing%20workshop

Stories To Ponder — 3

A Peak On Ancient Poetry — an excerpt of the Eddiac Poem.

10.

A better burden | may no man bear
For wanderings wide than wisdom;
It is better than wealth | on unknown ways,
And in grief a refuge it gives.

11.

A better burden | may no man bear
For wanderings wide than wisdom;
Worse food for the journey | he brings not afield
Than an over-drinking of ale.

12.

Less good there lies | than most believe
In ale for mortal men;
For the more he drinks | the less does man
Of his mind the mastery hold.

How can I write?

I hold my pen with life.

Even if I do not fully grasp each stanza, these are the words of wise men of days. The stanza and poem speaks depth, even in life today. In a world of gratification, I bring ancient truth.

It says:

Seek wisdom and judgement. Do not be drunk with wine. Have control over your nature. When a man looses himself, he looses his sense of reasoning and then, he has no wisdom. Common sense is far from that man, and his brain is a bowl of water.

Not even clean water — a bowl of filth.

How is it a story? What's there to ponder?

A story isn't just a narrative. It is what keeps you in your chair, sparkens your curiosity, and deepens your reflection. Poetic Prose — a line of making conclusions to your understanding.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer
Complicated Reflection.

Stories To Ponder — 2

This Skaldic Poetry writes:

Word-weaver binds flame-threads,
Blood-thoughts carve on wind-horns.
Raven's path is long road—
Truth flies in war-drums’ echo.
Tongue holds storm and stillness,
Runes walk where kings falter.
I gift verse, not silence—
Oaths breathe through sword-sharp songs.

With this, I write.

I speak in truth, in thoughts and silence; happiness and sorrows; mindfulness and unmindfulness — I speak.

I speak, even when a knife was put on my throat to slit off, if I ever made another statement.  I had to speak to preserve my generation. In operation, I did speak.

I was asked, did my words hold weight.

I do not know, but I wrote circumstances that described my life in general terms. I told the world about the *blood-thought carve on wind horns.*

I mixed all temperament of my soul — to create meaning for yours.

Boluwatife Alao.
Reflective Writer
Complicated Reflection.

Stories To Ponder — 1

Late that night — I shopped for school.

The panic that rises with resumption ; everytime in me. I was in a confrontation, I cried to the top of my voice "I said God, save me".

The neighbors ran, is everything fine? I said, " No", nothing is fine. I was asked to keep quiet; I silenced my voice just so others could live.

I cried so much, even the blind man could see the following morning. I took out my. journal, wrote stories upon stories. Tears slowly wanting to drop.

Hmmm... what was I writing?

The experiences that shape my thoughts. That's why last week, when I saw "only Jesus can save you". I hissed, when did he ever do?

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer.

Mental Slavery "Two"

Last, I talked about a Zen teaching and focused on letting go. It was an art of reclaiming peace and power.

I'm not here to bamboozle you with language, I want to speak clarity. Alan Watts said: "Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone." I go to the stream; I want water; I fetch; it's muddy; I let it cool, so I can get clean water.

Now, as a listener of Alan Watts.

Our minds are rivers. Flowing, full, sometimes disturbed. And when someone jingles a bell near that river, we are moved to want to stop it, it disturbs our peace; we can't concentrate; so, so we try to take charge - tell them to stop, try to control the sound, the ripple, the flow. But, while don't we let the bell ring? Why don't we let the mud settle?

That's what we do.

We try to control people and their opinion of us. We try to seek approval. 

And because of that we lose our esteem in the moment. We seek company and we mistake solitude for being lonely. That's because we've based our validity on human opinions, and not on the quiet truth of our own reflection.

It's muddy, we can't see our reflection.

Our reflection is dim, it's been clouded by the darkness of opinions and not the light of our choices. We carry the choices of people and not the choice of ourselves. We lack fulfilment not because we don't have peace, but because we can't handle the noise.

Mel Robbins said, "Let Them". Why?

Because we’re not just carrying people or memories - we’re also dragging entire identities we didn’t choose. 
We wear masks to be accepted, say yes to avoid judgment, and abandon our truth for temporary peace. 
That’s mental slavery too. And the chains don’t rattle loud - they whisper: "You have to be someone else to be loved" .

We've become rivers trying to please the wind, mirrors trying to show what others want to see, not what's true. But clarity only comes when the water is still. 

So let the bell jingle. 
Let the water clear. 
Let the fog lift. 
And in that stillness, find yourself again.

It's a little foggy, but reading to assimilate would give you clarity. 

Have a great day.

Boluwatife Alao
Reflectionist

What does it mean to be truly free?*

It means to embody:
The Right View
The Right Thinking
The Right Speech
The Right Action
The Right Livelihood
The Right Diligence
The Right Mindfulness
The Right Concentration

To be truly free is to embrace growth. To live in gratitude.

To become the very essence of what you preach - walking in the right path with unwavering integrity.

Boluwatife Alao

Mental Slavery "One"

I once listened to a Zen story about a Monk who was on a journey with a junior companion. Along the way, they came across a woman who couldn't cross a bridge. The senior Monk offered to help. Well, he had dropped her off a long time, but the junior companion hadn't.

Hours later, while they were resting, the junior finally spoke up. "I thought Monks weren't allowed to go near women. Why did you carry her?". The senior Monk asked " which lady? Oh! I dropped her off a long time ago. You're the one who's still carrying her".

And that's exactly what we do - carry things long after they've passed.

What do I want to write?

We live in stagnancy because we haven't dropped what keeps us stuck. I could wake up in the morning feeling grateful, grounded in peace. But one quote on social media about toxicity, and I spiral. I give my energy to something that didn't deserve it.

Unhappiness isn't just sadness. It's the suffering that raves our mental state - sometimes quietly, sometimes like a storm.
We feed our ego, and it returns the favor with sadness, lust, envy or resentment. Just like the junior Monk who couldn't let go of the woman in his mind, even though she was never truly a problem.

It's either you're feeding knowledge that liberates you...
Or embrace suffering that keeps you in a cycle of stagnancy.

Boluwatife Alao.
Reflective Writing

One day, I sat down. I had just read a book that sparked my realization. I was locked up in my own world. I did not gain healing, I felt tortured.

I asked myself this questions - why was I placed on so much? How do I start? Where do I go? Life or death? It's crazy! I am a prisoner! I look into the mirror and all I see is the Bolaji that suffered abuse and trauma. The Bolaji who never knew the effect of his domestication.

No wonder, I never found fulfillment in my life. I only felt happy because I was praised.

Now, I speak to the world? I need help, I am stuck and I can't move.

Get me out of my cage!

Boluwatife Alao
Reflective Writer
Reflectionist