A Cup of Coffee and a Pinch of Peace

As the tendrils of smoke from my coffee gracefully ascended from my cup they danced with elegance, their wispy form twirled and intertwined like delicate spirits on a celestial journey. The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled the atmosphere. I gazed at the mesmerising ballet of smoke. I pondered on how they achieved their synchronised movement. The gentle upward pull seemed to them as being fuelled by their silent desire to touch the heavens.

Driven by curiosity, I extended my finger to touch the tendrils. The moment my skin made contact with the tendrils the smoke scattered. It was as though I disrupted their synchronised movement, they moved away from my touch.

Right there in the cozy embrace of the coffee shop, captivated by the synchronised ballet of smoke from my steaming cup of coffee, my thoughts drifted away, they wandered to a specific moment in time, January 15th, 2022.
I remembered how my mindset was transformed by a book titled Women of God Power. I can't remember the author of the book but I can tell its impact on me.

I saw myself reflecting on who I was now and who I was before. I was merely a young lady bearing the invisible weight of scars engraved into my soul from my childhood. These scars like wounds shaped my thoughts while growing up, the bittersweet aroma of lingering painful memories. From the bottom of my heart, I harboured a distorted reflection of myself for years. I was covered in the wheel of insecurity and self-doubt. My self-esteem was as fragile as glass. I saw the world through a distorted lens where every smile I saw and gave felt like an illusion and every achievement seemed out of my reach.

My perception of life tingled with feelings of sadness and sorrow mirroring the dark corners of my mind. Somehow I yearned for a change, a gust of wind to sweep away the heavy clouds that covered my vision. I wished and waited for a time when I would blossom, filling the air with the fragrance of strength and self-discovery.

"The woman in the mirror is not the enemy, the negative self-talk is" These are some of the words from the first chapter of the book that starstruck me. In a moment of stillness, I paused, allowing the weight of my negative words to settle around me. For years my soul has been hurting, the pain woven into the very fabric of my existence like an invisible thorn piercing at my heart. I yearned for solace, for someone to come and take the pains away, it was too much to bear. Then here comes this book I downloaded online.

An encounter with this book became a beacon of light illuminating the shadows with me. Its words were like a gentle hand reaching out to touch the wounds of my soul. As I flipped through pages I felt a string, a realisation that the keys to liberation from the chains of negative self-talk lay not in forgetting my past, but in transforming how I perceived it.

These words became a melody, a symphony of wisdom that could wake a dead man. It resonated with the core of my being, they whispered in my ears urging me to shift my focus from the scars of yesterday to the triumphs of today.

The air around me began to shimmer with newfound clarity as if the fog of despair was lifting revealing a path towards healing. This realisation washed over me like a cleansing rain rejuvenating my spirit and nurturing the seeds of self-love.

With every turning page, I realised that I don't need to meditate on my past experience but all I need is to be grateful I made it through. I embraced the power of gratitude allowing it to wash away the stains of negativity.

I stared at the smoke tendrils rising from my coffee and watched as their synchronised dance was disrupted by the touch of my finger. It struck me — the profound impact of negative self-talk, I realised the effect of negative self-talk on an individual.

Imagine if I continued, the fluidity would shatter, mirroring the fragmentation of an individual succumbing to the weight of self-doubt. The analogy unfolded before me; just as the smoke lost its graceful synchronised ballet movement, a person consumed by negative self-talk would find inner harmony shattered. They'd dwell in a constant state of deep sadness, tangled in a web of hopelessness and despair.

My mind was haunted by a daunting question; "What might have become of me if I hadn't learned to confront my past self?"

More pressing still, my thoughts went to others trapped in the cruel clutches of their hurtful pasts. I thought to myself, the world for them might be an endless pit of emotional pain and uncertainties like a fragile smoke easily dispersed. I wished they came across this book.