it's been a long day and i still do not know. if the life that i love is the life that i want. how many of us truly know if what we have is a good life. not good as measured by the standards of comfort or luck or by the things that make life easy. but good because we are aware when it's bad and when it needs fixing. good because we fully trust that where we are is where we are meant to be. good because it is not a life unlived.
it's been a long day. my nerves need soothing. my mind needs to be still. and i may have a lot of questions but for now... my body needs to know that i have made it through the day.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
on a lighter note
things you can find on my bed:
dinner
chocolates
lca+
my new & experimental holga
cellphones
ipods
laptop
a new movie
my house keys
yoga book
photo cd
headphones
inhalation beads
some clothes
brassiere
a new dress
red & black pens
my beatles notepad
a safety pin
pillows
blanket
an empty ziplock bag
there are nights when i honestly feel like i live on this bed. literally. when all matter exists on this piece of foam - music, love, stories, laughter, tears and dreams. there is a lot that goes on here. at the end of the day, i take my trash out. i clean up my space in an attempt to clear my head. because at the end of the day, we could do without clothes or cameras and (gasp) even chocolates. at the end of the day, all we want is peace of mind.
dinner
chocolates
lca+
my new & experimental holga
cellphones
ipods
laptop
a new movie
my house keys
yoga book
photo cd
headphones
inhalation beads
some clothes
brassiere
a new dress
red & black pens
my beatles notepad
a safety pin
pillows
blanket
an empty ziplock bag
there are nights when i honestly feel like i live on this bed. literally. when all matter exists on this piece of foam - music, love, stories, laughter, tears and dreams. there is a lot that goes on here. at the end of the day, i take my trash out. i clean up my space in an attempt to clear my head. because at the end of the day, we could do without clothes or cameras and (gasp) even chocolates. at the end of the day, all we want is peace of mind.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
the next step
acceptance is painful.
but it is necessary.
what is love after all? it is a force that does not wither. it does not cower at the sight of the unappealing. it does not turn to dust when each has to take its own different path. love does not die even when we leave.
love is a force. it can make us go and it can make us stay. love can move for different reasons. and it can move for none.
love simply is.
long after our choices have been made, love will continue to live. it may take another form and we may not recognize nor acknowledge it, but it will always be there.
acceptance.
but it is necessary.
what is love after all? it is a force that does not wither. it does not cower at the sight of the unappealing. it does not turn to dust when each has to take its own different path. love does not die even when we leave.
love is a force. it can make us go and it can make us stay. love can move for different reasons. and it can move for none.
love simply is.
long after our choices have been made, love will continue to live. it may take another form and we may not recognize nor acknowledge it, but it will always be there.
acceptance.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
the girl i used to know
the bed seems empty without your legs eating up my side. the room seems quiet without your high-low-high pitch voice that breaks into laughter in the most uncanny moments. my night seems still without your thoughts, your words and your whole jumbled up weird character.
it's your last night here and it feels like it's my first without you.
a year of pillow talk and movie nights and taboo that we didn't play; a year of spilling secrets and dinners and sleepovers that would put any high school record to shame; a year of journeys and self discoveries, of laughter and tears that lingered late into the night. we may have pondered over the men in our lives and yet in the year that has passed, there was no better person to be with than you.
and so the winds that have brought you here are back to bring you elsewhere. i'll see you in bali where our wanderlust will take us. we'll hie off to some island and surf for a month. the world is big for our dreams and small for us to meet again :)
one day you will come back here, the girl i used to know. because today you are becoming the woman you are meant to be.
it's your last night here and it feels like it's my first without you.
a year of pillow talk and movie nights and taboo that we didn't play; a year of spilling secrets and dinners and sleepovers that would put any high school record to shame; a year of journeys and self discoveries, of laughter and tears that lingered late into the night. we may have pondered over the men in our lives and yet in the year that has passed, there was no better person to be with than you.
and so the winds that have brought you here are back to bring you elsewhere. i'll see you in bali where our wanderlust will take us. we'll hie off to some island and surf for a month. the world is big for our dreams and small for us to meet again :)
one day you will come back here, the girl i used to know. because today you are becoming the woman you are meant to be.
Monday, March 12, 2007
faith
there is much to heal in this world. for every wound that refuses to heal. for every angel that falls from the sky. for every hurt that hides beneath fragile wings. there is much to heal.
and so we turn to those we love and wonder, how can i make them see? how can i help them get through the pain, mend the hearts which were shattered into a thousand little pieces? how can i make them see life is still worth living?
i sit with myself and the words of someone very spiritual echo in my mind. i cannot heal in others what is wounded in me.
i sit with myself and find faith. faith that can see. it is the candle that glows in the dark. it is faith that tells me there is no need to suffer inspite of the pain, no need to lose myself when sorrow comes my way. that which tells me to be brave so i can inspire others to do the same. i can heal myself. it is faith that tells me impossible is nothing.
i sit with myself and know. that inspite of all the hurt and sadness that creep their way in, life remains beautiful. because i let it.
and so we turn to those we love and wonder, how can i make them see? how can i help them get through the pain, mend the hearts which were shattered into a thousand little pieces? how can i make them see life is still worth living?
i sit with myself and the words of someone very spiritual echo in my mind. i cannot heal in others what is wounded in me.
i sit with myself and find faith. faith that can see. it is the candle that glows in the dark. it is faith that tells me there is no need to suffer inspite of the pain, no need to lose myself when sorrow comes my way. that which tells me to be brave so i can inspire others to do the same. i can heal myself. it is faith that tells me impossible is nothing.
i sit with myself and know. that inspite of all the hurt and sadness that creep their way in, life remains beautiful. because i let it.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
becoming
I am not who you think I am.
Not now.
Not today.
There is no recognition as I stare
At the reflection
that stares back at me.
I don’t need to see
To know.
What’s inside me is breathing.
Pulsing.
I am who I think I am
Slowly unfolding
Like the beginnings of a dark thought.
There is no reason to despise
What is becoming a part of me.
I walk
Mesmerized by my own shadow.
A strange creature
That fascinates
And taunts
The better part of me.
Not now.
Not today.
There is no recognition as I stare
At the reflection
that stares back at me.
I don’t need to see
To know.
What’s inside me is breathing.
Pulsing.
I am who I think I am
Slowly unfolding
Like the beginnings of a dark thought.
There is no reason to despise
What is becoming a part of me.
I walk
Mesmerized by my own shadow.
A strange creature
That fascinates
And taunts
The better part of me.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
new beginnings
today the storm came and ravaged our island. today the storm came and ravaged the place i've grown to call home.
the sight was devastating. the canopy that once sheltered me from rain stooped like a tired old man. the pathway was gone. and the trees that stood proud yesterday lay broken on the ground. it was terrible and it made my heart break.
rain kept falling as i swept the pathway clean, as others before me and others after me picked up the branches, picked up the pieces to make this place whole, never stopping until we could see the path again. and i could see. in the midst of ruins i am surrounded by beauty. in the people whose spirits are still intact even when their own homes have been shattered. whose arms did not tire after hours of no food and sleep. we may have lost our homes, our clothes, our everyday belongings but we have not lost the one thing that mattered most in this time of distress. our hope.
night comes and rain still falls, but the wind has hushed down leaving a cool stillness in the air. what started out to be a horrifying morning turned into one of the most amazing days i have seen. the courage and resilience that cleared th paths, the admirable compassion that went into rebuilding the place that so many others call home resonated through the silence of the night. if love came from a well that built this place, then from the same well we will build again.
it is almost midnight as i walk home. stripped of its leaves, the tree stands strong in the circle of hope. fireflies dance overhead and a lone star begins to shine through the cloudy skies... hope. it's time for new beginnings.
the sight was devastating. the canopy that once sheltered me from rain stooped like a tired old man. the pathway was gone. and the trees that stood proud yesterday lay broken on the ground. it was terrible and it made my heart break.
rain kept falling as i swept the pathway clean, as others before me and others after me picked up the branches, picked up the pieces to make this place whole, never stopping until we could see the path again. and i could see. in the midst of ruins i am surrounded by beauty. in the people whose spirits are still intact even when their own homes have been shattered. whose arms did not tire after hours of no food and sleep. we may have lost our homes, our clothes, our everyday belongings but we have not lost the one thing that mattered most in this time of distress. our hope.
night comes and rain still falls, but the wind has hushed down leaving a cool stillness in the air. what started out to be a horrifying morning turned into one of the most amazing days i have seen. the courage and resilience that cleared th paths, the admirable compassion that went into rebuilding the place that so many others call home resonated through the silence of the night. if love came from a well that built this place, then from the same well we will build again.
it is almost midnight as i walk home. stripped of its leaves, the tree stands strong in the circle of hope. fireflies dance overhead and a lone star begins to shine through the cloudy skies... hope. it's time for new beginnings.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
gypsy
the wind is calling, and i have to go. there will be sand beneath our feet. there will be stars looking down on us. in this infinite sky...
oh the gypsy in me
oh the gypsy in me
Thursday, November 23, 2006
happy tomorrows
seeking. restless. sleepless. oh the initial stirrings of wanderlust.
to have left the place that stifled me, to have unloved the things i held dear, to have started the journey in search for myself. that which i had lost. that which i have found once more.
funny how we run away from home, funnier still how we run back. so much things we hate about it and so much more things to love.
because somewhere along the way we realize it isn't the place we're running away from. but the person we've become. or rather, the person we haven't become. the disappointment borne out of undreaming dreams and the hollow sadness of being stuck.
and so we run away. to follow almost forgotten dreams. in search for la dolce vita.
the sweetness of this life comes from knowing that home is where love is. that wherever i go and whenever i decide to pack my bags and head to a place where love resides, that is home.
where will this wanderlust take me now? to distant shores, to a vine covered yellow house perhaps? the beauty that stems from knowing that everything is possible. i smile in glorious anticipation :)
to have left the place that stifled me, to have unloved the things i held dear, to have started the journey in search for myself. that which i had lost. that which i have found once more.
funny how we run away from home, funnier still how we run back. so much things we hate about it and so much more things to love.
because somewhere along the way we realize it isn't the place we're running away from. but the person we've become. or rather, the person we haven't become. the disappointment borne out of undreaming dreams and the hollow sadness of being stuck.
and so we run away. to follow almost forgotten dreams. in search for la dolce vita.
the sweetness of this life comes from knowing that home is where love is. that wherever i go and whenever i decide to pack my bags and head to a place where love resides, that is home.
where will this wanderlust take me now? to distant shores, to a vine covered yellow house perhaps? the beauty that stems from knowing that everything is possible. i smile in glorious anticipation :)
Monday, November 13, 2006
today
today i remembered my grandmother's voice
i heard it clearly
slicing the morning air
i cried as i realized that i will never
hear it again
i heard it clearly
slicing the morning air
i cried as i realized that i will never
hear it again
Friday, November 03, 2006
in memory
the sun has set on an old day
and i will never see her again
the grandma of my youth
the one who would come on our birthdays
and wear her own party hat
who would come on random nights
and visit us when we were little enough
to sit on her lap
the one who braved
the war and dusty bus rides
and robbers
who were chased away with a stick
and pure iron guts
the one who would keep us in her home
during our childhood summers
feeding us, watching us hop and skip
over chalked boxes we drew in her backyard
the one who would play the piano
day and night
the one who would make us play
the chopsticks over and over again
the one who would bring us to the park
every summer afternoon
watching us play
watching us grow
letting us run in full abandon
the one who marveled while i cooked
my first masterpiece
of hot soup with leaves and fish eyes
i got from her kitchen
the one who would take us to the movies
in the middle of the day
making us feel like grown ups
by letting us choose our own seats
the one who had always made me feel like a grandchild
long after i grew up
and who held me in her arms
until i was big enough to hold her
the one who would keep photos of my travels
and listen to my stories
whose spirit and wanderlust didn't flicker
with the coming of her age
the one who would wear bracelets that we've made
like pieces of expensive jewelry
precious against her healthy wrists
we used to hang on to when crossing the streets
the one who would grow old
like i knew she would
someday.
the sun has gone down
the old streets of our youth flash before me
and she is gone
the grandmother i will miss
and i will never see her again
the grandma of my youth
the one who would come on our birthdays
and wear her own party hat
who would come on random nights
and visit us when we were little enough
to sit on her lap
the one who braved
the war and dusty bus rides
and robbers
who were chased away with a stick
and pure iron guts
the one who would keep us in her home
during our childhood summers
feeding us, watching us hop and skip
over chalked boxes we drew in her backyard
the one who would play the piano
day and night
the one who would make us play
the chopsticks over and over again
the one who would bring us to the park
every summer afternoon
watching us play
watching us grow
letting us run in full abandon
the one who marveled while i cooked
my first masterpiece
of hot soup with leaves and fish eyes
i got from her kitchen
the one who would take us to the movies
in the middle of the day
making us feel like grown ups
by letting us choose our own seats
the one who had always made me feel like a grandchild
long after i grew up
and who held me in her arms
until i was big enough to hold her
the one who would keep photos of my travels
and listen to my stories
whose spirit and wanderlust didn't flicker
with the coming of her age
the one who would wear bracelets that we've made
like pieces of expensive jewelry
precious against her healthy wrists
we used to hang on to when crossing the streets
the one who would grow old
like i knew she would
someday.
the sun has gone down
the old streets of our youth flash before me
and she is gone
the grandmother i will miss
Monday, October 30, 2006
kaleidoscope
the sky burns. the air slowly turns itself into pink. night is coming. but in these few seconds of dusk, of twilight descending, of kaleidoscope stirring, i awake.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
oriah ~ the mountain dreamer
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
letter to a dear one
your message a few nights ago took me by surprise. true, it was my birthday after all. but it was refreshing to hear from you. catching up on each other's lives after years of silence, allowing each other a momentary peek into our worlds. a thousand miles apart and yet here we are. in the heart of strange places we finally call home.
how far we've come. and how far we're still going...
i look back at those years when we lived entangled lives. was it so long ago? or was it only yesterday? i hear you now and see how far you've grown from being lost. how certain you've become. i ran away from all the noise to a place i've always held dear. and you... in the midst of all the noise, the thrill, the circus of the big apple, found yourself. we are so alike. and so different.
it took us quite a while to untangle each other. but here we are now :)
thank you for remembering. for knowing me. for being my first love, and passion.
and after years of being together and being apart, thank you for keeping it real.
how far we've come. and how far we're still going...
i look back at those years when we lived entangled lives. was it so long ago? or was it only yesterday? i hear you now and see how far you've grown from being lost. how certain you've become. i ran away from all the noise to a place i've always held dear. and you... in the midst of all the noise, the thrill, the circus of the big apple, found yourself. we are so alike. and so different.
it took us quite a while to untangle each other. but here we are now :)
thank you for remembering. for knowing me. for being my first love, and passion.
and after years of being together and being apart, thank you for keeping it real.
Friday, August 04, 2006
i'm glad i forgot to ask for an aisle seat
i'm high up in the sky and stars shoot past my window. big ones that leave a trail of stardust in their wake. and small ones that streak by so fast they seem to be figments of imagination. if i could reach out i may just catch one star, hold it in the palm of my hand...
i'm suspended in time, flying through space, through the black of the night, through constellations that dust the sky like a dream. and i wish you were here. you would have loved the sight. i would have loved the company
i'm suspended in time, flying through space, through the black of the night, through constellations that dust the sky like a dream. and i wish you were here. you would have loved the sight. i would have loved the company
Thursday, July 27, 2006
the real thing
he was kneeling when he kissed her. her face a picture of calm and peace, belying the surge of emotions that consumed her being. her toes were curled, shivers down her spine. her hands clasped to his, that which held her face gently. urgently. as he kissed her skin.
who knew that after 8 years of keeping a tiny print of gustav klimt´s "the kiss" i´d see the real thing.
who knew that after 8 years of keeping a tiny print of gustav klimt´s "the kiss" i´d see the real thing.
Monday, July 10, 2006
home is where the heart is
halfway across the world and no longer in search for my place. while i walk in awe along these beautiful cobbled streets, no longer do i carry the longing that has haunted me for years. for i have found my home. and so have many others. faces that don't quite belong have dwelled in this coast. sometimes it takes thousands of miles to bring us to where our heart is.
life does work in magical ways :)
life does work in magical ways :)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
heart of a nomad
nostomania (nos-tuh-MAY-nee-uh, -mayn-yuh) noun
an overwhelming desire to return home or to go back to familiar places.
interesting what word you can learn in a day. interesting to realize i haven't been nostomanic in a while. and i guess that's how it goes when you've finally found home.
the rains have come. has it been a year? i walk down that path, on a trail of windblown petals, no longer lost in my sadness. some things you have to let go. some you keep. excessively wistful. a sentimental fool. that's me alright. we all have issues. you and i. that doesn't make any of us perfect. but it makes us human.
and that is always a better thing.
an overwhelming desire to return home or to go back to familiar places.
interesting what word you can learn in a day. interesting to realize i haven't been nostomanic in a while. and i guess that's how it goes when you've finally found home.
the rains have come. has it been a year? i walk down that path, on a trail of windblown petals, no longer lost in my sadness. some things you have to let go. some you keep. excessively wistful. a sentimental fool. that's me alright. we all have issues. you and i. that doesn't make any of us perfect. but it makes us human.
and that is always a better thing.
Monday, April 24, 2006
my own
it's nice to be alone sometimes. to wake up with filtered sunlight on your face, broken by moving shadows. it's nice to wake up and sleep back to a dreamy thought with only the pillow by your side. a love stained dreamy memory. it's nice to get up in the morning, without anyone pulling you out of bed. to step out with unbrushed and hastily tied hair. to walk along the shore, with no end in sight. just one sleepy morning step at a time. it's nice to move with your memories, to dance with each thought, to smile because knowing is better than wondering. it's nice to rest your mind. to find a moment of calm. to let the heart beat on its own. without hurt, without pride. it's nice to move at your own pace. when the concept of fast or slow does not exist. when today, not yesterday nor tomorrow, is the most beautiful day ever lived.
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