With the hardest lemons ever known, she got stoned by the cruelest of them all. Dealt with the heaviest of hands, each landed with precision on her frail and emaciated frame. Despite the harm and hurt caused, the showmanship must go on – for he has been conditioned, once in the ring, it’s business as usual. Beneath the heap of citric fruits laid her bruised and battered body, still and motionless, protected by shock though her mind stayed alive, her soul already waxed cold.
He brandished his joker daring all to call his bluff. None expected he would play it, none knew he was out to draw blood. It was premeditated, it was all planned out, the climax of the game he had strategically mapped out. And like an unwise prey, she waltzed into the staged play. Suddenly it all stopped, he damned all consequences and thrown his last citric joker leaving all in the coliseum with mouth agape. Though not instructed, spectators rushed to the pile of lemons that now buried her, slowly snuffing life out of her. Aloof he stood watching as viewers-turn-medics carried her to safety.
Like the senseless display of delusive power by a school bully whose essence deep down is a complex mess of inferiority, he thoroughly rinsed his victory lap, waving the flag of stupidity, confusing the forced audience received for praise, admiration and validation. He applied more vigor to his flag waving motion hoping a thunderous sound of applause would erupt but nothing happened. Yes,he played well but sadly with the wrong set of rules. The cradle in the arena was placed there to be protected but like a wild beast on heat, he attacked and shredded.
Of course, with the game ruled as unfair, the victory ceremony never held. But, the real victor in this story was the frail little girl who life carried away from the arena on a stretcher with her pockets stuffed with lemons. She had the choice to keep alive the spine-chilling memories hatched in that coliseum by leaving the yellow citric fruits marinaded in a pickled jar and place it on the mantle next to her recovery bed. However, she did not. That would have been travesty, mockery, parody….an anomaly of a trophy to an unworthy opponent. Rather, she made lemonades and more!
When life throws lemons at you, they often advice to make lemonades. Well, I think that is so retro and boring now. It’s about time we notched this lemon game up to the next level…let’s get spicing!
“When life throws you lemons, make a vodka laced lemonade & a zesty lemon sauce, get some smoked salmon and then, feast!” -Nubianwaters
When life throws a hard lemon at you, be sure to pick it up and massage it against the hard surface of your resilience till the succulent pulp in it burst and juice up on the inside for you. No matter how hard the situation, don’t let it take you under.
Then, take the step of boldness, confront the ‘demon’, slice the lemon open, get to the core of the matter don’t run from it. Remember, cowardice is the hallmark of the fainthearted, the bane of a passive aggressor. Don’t recoil into hiding, pick up the lemons and show up. It is not about proving a point to anyone, it about making the best out of everything life throws at you!
Have a lovely week!
Love & peace
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