The Hallucination
It tracks the edge of the wilderness
inside the skull of the mind,
tongueless yet obstreperous,
shouting like King Ubu lost in Poland.
It is shocking how unshockable it is.
The raptors of consciousness
gather in its many caves,
the blue shells of their eyes
do not blink.
Argus is its only ancient commentary,
though Medusa is to come.
Count its eggs, those tiny mausolea.
The mice in the garden gave it all their stories.
The mountain flowers are frozen like so many monkeys
in its zoo of gazes. The coyotes themselves
are whining to get in, you can hear them every night.
The ravens shake their beaks and coolly smirk
at the madwomen staring at their hands that are holding nothing.
Chapter One
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t happy… I don’t say this to sound conceited, it’s just the way my people are since my earliest memory.
Every day like clockwork I’d wake up and find myself with a smile on my face, going through the motions of my life as if on a permanent loop blissfully unaware of how empty my rooted happiness was or how futile my purpose was at this point.
Until one day, on my way to work I found myself waiting for my train at the local Muni station, like I always do, when suddenly a young woman bumped into me out of nowhere. As she pushed past a paper fell to the ground from her backpack and I instinctively went to hand it back to her until I realized she had continued her path running in the opposite direction.
Why was she running? I thought. No one runs anywhere any more, there is no need, and what was she wearing?
I continued to stare in her direction intrigued by her movement until I realized I now was becoming the distraction in everyone’s path to work and began to go on my way thinking how strange this instance was. Still holding that single paper in my hand unaware yet of its significance in my life.
It wasn’t until I was sitting on the train, in my regular seat, that I realized I was gripping on to that very paper. Like a shock to my senses, I felt that curiosity spark inside me. I don’t remember ever being this curious before…
I uncrumpled the paper to find a single sentence written plainly in the middle of the otherwise blank piece.
Why are you so happy?
Why are you so happy? I laughed to myself as I read such a simple question thinking how odd of a thing to just carry around, until it hit as I sat there frozen in fear with the predominant smile on my face quickly fading as I found I had no answer. Why am I, so happy?
All I could muster for an answer is just that everyone just was happy. Since the dark days when my parents had passed over thirty years ago, I felt as if I might have been in this very moment the only person in my society who had questioned this. Well, except for that girl... Who was she? Was she happy?
During the dark days our people found so many stresses in their daily life, so much pain, so much unnecessary sadness blanketed our society or so I remember from the propaganda slogans plastered all over our city when I was a kid...
So funny I had not recalled that memory until now…
It sounds stupid I’m sure but before this piece of paper. This crumpled up piece of paper that could have easily been ignored and discarded at the perfectly accessible waste bin next to every train entrance, I never found myself questioning my life… questioning this society. It just wasn’t something that was done.
Or at least from my experience it wasn’t something that was discussed. Everyone was just happy the way they were. It never seemed odd to me really because it was our standard of normal. Until this stupid piece of paper ruined my life.
Made me an outsider, made me question everything that I was perfectly happy with moments ago. I felt a strange surge through my body like a warmth running through me that wasn’t welcome and a narrowing of my sight as I stared blankly at the ground until I realized what I was doing with my hands clenched and my face down towards the floor. It wasn’t until I lifted my head that I noticed my strange nature had also surprised the people around me with the many faces of spectators looking at me in confusion then looking at a poster on the train above my head that I never really noticed before.
It read:
Happiness is a standard. If you are unhappy, we are here to help. With a number following the message.
Why had I never noticed this before?
My whole life I never felt this way or had been looked at so questioningly as If I am sick.
You can’t be sick.
Why did this frighten me so much? I thought to myself... If I was sick, I could get help…That’s what they taught us.
Like a battle in my head, I fought the idea of whether I should tell someone, but fear overpowered me. I sat there and found myself faking a smile in response to their stares and like clockwork they smiled back and went back to what they had been doing previously. I felt sick, fake. Hidden. Behind this now pretend façade.
I spent the rest of my trip to work with a smile on my face and a busy mind trying to understand, trying to force out this confusion hoping it would pass, still holding the piece of paper that so taunted my reality.
As I looked around, I kept finding myself wondering if they were all happy too. Why are they so happy?
Why is this a bad thing? My subconscious tried to ask me… but it was so strange now after I had been asked why I was happy. I now found that since I did not have an answer to this question that my mind tried to find the most logical step forward. That maybe if I looked at others, or asked them, I might find an answer. The right answer… the needed answer.
No, that’s too much of a risk.
And then I thought… What if they aren’t happy?
I mean they had to be right? They were all smiling.
I’m not happy and I’m smiling.
I’m not happy… Like a shock wave to my reality, it hit me. I never meant to think such a horrid thought… not happy… This cannot be true. That would mean I am sick.
You are not sick.
But I must be…
You can’t be sick.
It felt as if I was handed a key and then a door for that key appeared that I never knew was there and as I went to open the door the key disappeared from my hand, yet the door remained. Locked, taunting me, begging me to open it.
What was on the other side? Why am I on this side of it? Which side was free?
I tried my best to be reasonable, to get myself to stop questioning the purpose of my happiness because it only brought me sorrow not having an answer, but once the question is asked it becomes impossible to forget, especially such an intriguing one…and once you begin to look for something you notice it everywhere. Moments in your everyday life that make you question. That force you to remember the mystery hidden inside… Why am I happy?
Jeez I do not remember this commute being so long… and so boring.
Michaila Oberhoffer was born and raised in the foggy San Francisco Bay area, a place she is still happy to call home. Satisfied with a great meal, a refreshing drink and a bit of nature, Michaila wishes to live life simply doing what she loves. A lover of all things philosophy and science, she believes that being human isn't about being intelligent enough to know but wise enough to question. She can easily be found sitting at a patio table at a coffee shop or at a local brewery, trying very hard to allow the thoughts in her head to become coherent enough to publish, settling for the comforts of humor and speculation. THE ROOT OF JOHN'S HAPPINESS is her debut novel.
Dear ruiner of all,
Indeed, in destruction lies your own pleasure,
Amidst sorrow and sadness, springs up your own joy,
Your success sight, is to watch other success dimming.
Devil, I know your laughter is ignited, when a tranquil heart turns violent,
Your smile is sparked, when a blossomed flower withers,
Your solace reigns, where lovebirds suddenly be at daggers drawn.
Devil, I know the contentment you crave, is to put humankind in grief.
Surely, I know in miles you have ruined,
Leaving every single stage of this journey scathed and shattered,
Incessantly stabbing the innocent flesh of this vulnerable heart,
Mercilessly carving there the holes of bitterness,
Heartlessly disposing of this injured heart to the abyss of sorrowful thoughts.
But, Devil, do not yet, yell of conquest!
For the end, still vague to foresee the outcome,
For my defeat now, can transition to triumph,
That my wound would meet healing in the end,
And my feebleness would wear the garment of mightiness.
Devil, do not ever laugh yet!
For even in your laughter, is no tone of lastingness.
Dear Devil,
Remember, if you do not laugh last, you do not laugh best.
Homeland
Your love is for me,
Just let one word come out of my body:
Homeland! you are always with me
My glory, my love, you are my everything.
I will never be apart from you
I can stay without you
Let this be a confession for you.
You are the air to me, my dear country,
I bow to you a thousand times, my country.
Even your deserts are paradise,
Companion always success to you,
There is no more trouble in your head,
You are my pride, my pride.
My joy is spring
Spring always gives us happiness
Everyone feels a sense of joy
Most girls dance and use a powder
Old ages make us laugh to enjoy
I am happy about the season
That's why flowers are everywhere.
I like spring, but I don't know how
My heart blooms when spring is here.
The nature of spring is captivating
Various birds fly on one side
My heart cries out for alerting
Every facet of spring with me alongside.
O'razaliyeva Charos lives in Uzbekistan, Syrdarya region, and attends a creativity school which is named after Halima Xudoyberdiyeva.
Add Subtract
Nothing is ever subtracted
Since the world we know is complete
What’s taken away
is added somewhere else
Its quirky cluster of molecules
shaken and re-assembled
into dog hair and mushrooms
or fact and flatulence
So let your subtraction embrace addition
And enjoy the guises hung
In the deep closets of reality.
Save nature!
As much as the universe is bright,
Our heart will be bright.
If our house and street are clean,
Our hearts will also be clean.
We humans leave garbage,
We damage the whole world,
Without planting trees and flowers,
We cut down without cruelty...
"No, no..."
This is not a cruel world,
These are cruel people...
Everyone needs love,
Nature and flowers,
To grow and live
Let's protect it for our children,
Let's protect it for our future,
Let's protect the green nature...
2
Peace is needed!
Oh my friends in the world,
Give me your hand.
I am against knocking today
Give peace to my dear path.
We are united on the good path,
May peace be in our hearts,
This is our clear sky.
May peace shine forever,
We need love We need happiness
The only feeling of friendship for us.
Oh my friends from afar,
It is the dream of the universe to share goodness.
The anger of the earth will burst on the bad day,
The one who suffers, is swallowed by the earth.
If you love the earth, it will live.
If it gets angry, it will sleep in the dark.
We need peace, we need goodness.
Let us rest peacefully at night,
Poets of the world we meet today,
Let us sing a song of goodness.
We need peace
We need happiness!
Heart flowers
The more beautiful the world is,
The heart will be so flowery.
In the soil where the flowers grow,
Love always expresses.
Love is the decoration of the heart,
Love is the decoration of the world,
Nature takes away color,
The flowers are beautiful from the light.
When love disappears from the heart,
It looks like a drought...
Hearts without love are like
To a world mired in poverty.
Love makes flowers grow,
Fill the heart with happiness,
The smell of childhood remains,
There will be rejuvenation in the world.
WIO Global Women Award Academy ®️
In view of social media survey and the expert panel recommendations, The Governing Body of Warsi International Organization & WIO Global Women’s Award Academy do hereby confer this WIO GLOBAL WOMEN AWARD 2023 to Ms. Munavvar Boltayeva, Renowned Youth Activist, Educationist, Influencer, Human Rights Activist and Arts & Cultural Promoter of Uzbekistan
Award Title: Global Iconic Women, Uzbekistan 🇺🇿
