The word “mojo” derives from an African language and relates to magic and spells to generate luck and power. In today’s language, the word still refers to a  source of vigor, energy, sexual potency and power.

 

Its been a high ride on my roller coster called life. Ever since I have been a positive nature, the glass was always full and everything was possible.

For the best seven years in my twenties i have felt as alive as i never did before. I traveled around the world, visited new countries, lived in a few, worked, made friends, meet so many different cultures and humans that day by day i got hungry for more. The world was my playground and i loved to get lost in it.

8 years have past and I am now blessed with a beautiful partner who loves and support me all the way and a wonderful son who is giving me all the smiles i need. Everyday i am wondering how i deserve such deeply caring souls in my life.

Even more can i feel the frustration building up over myself and the unhappiness i am feeling since i had to return home. Some days are better then others and i am happy, full of life and energy again. These are the days were I am full of hopes and dreams for our future. I feel my mojo has gotten back to me. But then there are the other days where i wake up and feel already drained. Every move is hard and i can hardly imagine how to get this day in a most productive way done. I have a child and he is my motivation on days like this but it makes me even more unhappy to think about how it is the way it is and wonder why i cant feel a constant state of pleasure for him.

I blame that all my travel options had run out eventually and it was time for me to come home.

Home where i didn’t wanted to be. Everything here i already know. Everything here has motivated me in the first place to move away. And here i am. Back in the land where the winter hits hard. Oh yes i am talking about the weather. Its been 7 years with out the winter. 7 years without the 5 month of grey every single year.

Grey sky, grey trees, grey faces. The cold seems in everyones face, everyone is just hanging in there and so am i. Its a struggle all the way, the struggle is real. Every little bit of sun i try to catch and lights up the fire of hope inside me that this dead season will be finally over now but then it come back to you, hits you hard like a fist in the face and what stays are the next ten days of grey and me looking at it with a big headache. I call it the dead season for a reason. Its been killing me.

And so now spring has arrived, there still is a lot of grey sky but the sun is coming and stays more often, the trees are warming up to its greenest. I soak it all in, my heart is soaking with me but i still walk around this city and find no pleasure in it.

Im hiking for the green spots, on the way i have to pass all the big grey noisy roads to find them. Its like a treasure hunt, the roads are my obstacles, the big trucks the loud weary monsters. Once i’m in the green i’m brighten up. I smile and be happy all round. I wish i could stay forever but since i moved to the city so popular on living, so limited on space when money is a question, by the end of each trip i have to return to the block where we could find a flat. The one and only we got offered after 3 month of daily inspection, applications and turn downs.

Its a wonderful flat cause we made it that way. We always do, there is our heart in every corner of it, we have made the most we wanted but as soon as you look out the window or leave the house you know straight away you are living in the block and the loud weary monsters are only a corner away.

A hard working middle-class is surrounding us. I believe most of them are beautiful humans with there own little problems, hopes and dreams. I can imagine a few of them are perhaps also dreaming of the little something of there own they can call home in the green.

I know i shouldn’t complain as i have a home, a loving partner and a wonderful son. I am healthy and still in my best years. I have food and cloths, i can care for my baby. I have all the things i need to tick, the bases. And i am grateful for all of this. It’s what I’m living for. Its just that i have been fallowing my dreams for so long and always believed “everything is possible” but since i’m home i find it hard even to just wright the words down.

I find it hard to dream for the bigger as it doesn’t seem to be possible anymore. For here for now nothing is possible. I gave up on the dreaming, i have tried it the other day but i wasn’t even sure what to dream on. the grey inside my is holding me back, tells me why i can not do this, sticks to my bones, soaks my motivation, send off my mojo.

And whats left is the hope that one day we will meet again..