a daylight dream

  It’s been two weeks since I came to Egypt, and they have been quite.. spellbinding. I often find myself wondering how all what I’ve been afraid of is being resolved in effortless orchestration of earthly manifestations that I never asked for. Because of the bustling environment I have at work, I often find myself dreaming of obstacles or complications I may face while doing things related to planning lessons or creating activities. The most heart-shattering thing is that as soon as I wake, I receive news that somehow makes everything so much easier; somehow, divinely coordinated. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I have much much more responsibilities this year. I might have had the choice to decline them, but I felt it’s God asking me to say yes so that I learn to rely on Him with all my might. I’ve always been the person to depend on myself in almost everything, never once considering God’s support that may amplifying the gracefulness of all doing. I’m here being channe

An airplane signifies so many unknowns, so many variables, with a constant ‘ me ’. An anxious fear surges from the pit of my stomach, always questioning whether I’ll ever be strong enough to deal with the discomfort of newness. My breaths are sharp here, in the transition, heading towards the side of practical realms. I’m scared of what is left to heal to embrace my ideals. What if I’m not able to withstand the healing pains and sheddings? A few tears trickle by, summer stillness shedding, leaving me vulnerable and bare in the act itself. It’s endearing to witness and disconcerting to feel. Where will I be next summer? How would it be like to be a year older towards the person who has been gifted so many daylight dreams? I’m back to the solitude of my essence. The realisation that most of my journeying is done in darkness, pain and cycles— upon completion, they radiate a revealing light that serves and heals. But not before the transmutation, not before the healing, not before the ferv

   I sat in the grass and gave thanks to every blade of grass, ‘ I’ll see you ’ reverberating in my heart. That one echo that accompanied our hearts with every gaze between us, my dear heart. My eyes have softened these days. A glimmer of love may arouse them into a lifelong, annihilating sacredness. But they soon know, annihilation only truly becomes with Him. The gift is to experience the fragmented mirrors we are before the oneness of time. The fragment that I am, perhaps I am ready, to return home. A heart has spoken at last— a togetherness with its whole. What does patience mean when a heart can fully surrender receivership? And how do a thousand longings look like when they’re received? It’s the return. The airplane. An invisible string tying home to the truest Home.

August, you're going. How sweet of you to pass by so amiably, leaving behind a spirit that has glimpsed a transformation, hopefully one that lasts for a while longer than my idea of a lifetime. I'm not here to say much and ramble about endless details of how my days went by. Perhaps it is time to recover themes and reconnect pieces of myself I've always felt attuned to. I'm leaving in a few days. It feels quite wonderful this time, to say ' i'll see you ' to everything I've loved here, especially all the trees and skies. This is what I'm here to reflect upon; this timeless connection to all things, and taking it all with me wherever I go: the stillness of summer, the initiation of the goodbye and the harvest. It's important for me to see things through my heart. I learned so much about myself this month. I learned about my propensities towards being extremely harsh, limitless and otherwordly, which allows me to lose connection with people and rea