a daylight dream

  I sit there receiving, a sprightly, exuberant mulberry leaf drinking in the jovial sunlight of february. it’s my first time to learn to receive, and there is no ultimatum when it comes to surrender. it just is. the moment you know it, it is gone. the forgetfulness of it is leaning into being  it . all my life, I chased and ghosted power. the tidal waves of craving it, projecting it into everything, and when finding myself gazing at it eye-to-eye, I’d run away. I wanted to be anything but powerful. anything but strong. I wanted to be calm, gentle, kind. I wanted people to love me, because all I’ve ever learned is how to make people hate you. but there were the shadows in hindsight manipulating me to be powerful all along. I’d get myself in the trenches of wanting to be invisible, and learning through it the essence of being strong. the authenticity in knowing what is true and clinging to following it even if it requires hurt and pain. and now the tables have turned. I’m power...

  Silence wraps itself around me, embracing me like a smile. Once, silence used to inflict me with so much toil, running around my head for words vast enough to express a fragment of what it feels like to be so small and so insignificant. I used to speak too much: meaning, I’d judge too much. Spending hours day by day deciphering the hidden processes beyond speechlessness, I’d break its sacredness trying to define it and lace it with a meaning too separate from the real thing. Now I think silence binds me to temporal ordinariness; an acceptance that as long as I am still human, there will be oceans of love that I’d never be able to withstand enough to pause and depict. There are simply domains that were not meant to be exaggerated.. In silence, all judgements fade and there is more space for the soulfulness of perception. Despite the colours of spring, they’re much gentler and softer now, as if revering their heart-throb in eternal gratitude. I, too, span the open spaces with silen...

Every once in a while, I lapse into a bubble of numbness. It's not exactly numbness, but an indifferent equanimity, a restful episode of non-doing that is a little dull and guilty. When those kinds of episodes air in my soul, I usually feel quite uneasy. It’s not the natural state of my mind to be so passive and uninspired. Also, it is at those times when my doings are quite invisible both in magnitude and intensity. I don’t feel the vibrancy of my days, and it feels like I’m losing my spark. It reminds me of the days I had an awful relationship with myself. Those occasional times of numbness would cause me great distress for I’d judge myself so bad for not glowing brightly. I’d be anxious, measuring the impact of work and finding nothing worthy to measure. What is to be measured in a day that is restful, I wonder? Perhaps it is the silent gratitude of being gifted a day, breathing in and becoming so wholly nourished without having to do anything worthwhile at all. No matter how ha...

In the spaces between my breaths, I linger there awhile, returning to the darkness of the source. I allow all my doings to become undone; for the less I have of that, the freer I am. There is so much brokenness inside. So much brokenness deep into my roots. When it’s winter and all my blooms and leaves fall, there is only brokenness left. I’m not sure what it is, but there is something I miss so deeply. I miss God, I miss the truth, I miss the darkness and the infinite wisdom that knows and does with so much love and benevolence. And I miss you. I miss you till it hurts, till my eyes well up, till the storms clear. I miss you till I’m filled with the sweetest blaze.  And that’s the deepest longing, to be with you till we know we were never really separate, and in some afterlife, we will never be separate. @sunlightafterdark

I never really though life could be lived with such effortlessness. The most intimately beautiful things that have occurred to me were merely gifts. I grew up knowing for sure that chasing ideals was the way forward. But how is it possible that I don’t need to do anything to receive substantial blessings that turn my world around? It keeps happening over and over again. Blessings fall from open skies to my open heart, and right in time. In retrospect, even the delay is a gift. There is no way now but to walk through the alleyways of this world with trust that all is guided and foreordained— the faintest whispers of my soul have already been heard. It requires both time and timelessness to receive, and somewhere in between, one spends the time in forgiveness and selfless giving. That is the change of heart, it seems. It is subtle and faint, hardly noticeable, a transformation that sheds the weight of fear and uncertainty. All at once, the sky floods with all what we need with unrequited...