a daylight dream

With awakening to love, the illusion lifts softly. All of my life I’ve lived believing that the destination was the essence of all that mattered. With that in mind, I’d ruthlessly look for something that exists outside of my own being. Chasing, worrying, doubting were natural ways of trying to walk through the path of the unknown. It never felt right to find myself in the land of my dreams like this. With the truth in heart, the journey is identical to the destination. What is done with soft currents of love yields the dream. Intention becomes the most essential, and with that, forgiving the time it takes to truly get there once the land is ready to receive. Sometimes I forget, but my intentions don’t. The heart mirrors the intimacy of my soul to reflect itself upon the path I walk. It is a path to be walked with reverence, ease and co-creation. And so as I walk, I am transformed to be the person who’d always needed to reach the land of my dreams. The soul always finds itself home, eve...

I’ve always dreamed of planting trees and gardening somewhere forlorn, where attention is never deep and nurturing enough. Back when I was seventeen, I’d look for places around me to garden, and I’d find myself chasing dreams every Friday during my long walks around the city.   I never knew why I wanted to garden so much, but I just knew that the child-like spirit in me always lived in the wilderness. A picture of me when I was four years old, crouching by the sand, daisies in my hair and a water bucket in my hand always haunted me. This was the  truest  me. And now I’m almost 24, and this dream came alive. I desperately longed for it ever since I was in university, but it was just never the right time. There was a distance that had to be covered traipsing up towards it. I gazed lovingly at my life intentions list on my bulletin board and surrendered it’s happening. I had to go through so much to garden with reverence. The sacredness of the experience is humbling. Somehow...

  It’s happened to me the first time in October of 2019.   I’d be sleeping soundly when all of a sudden, I wake up with a jolt, my eyes filled with tears and my heart being ripped apart with deep longing and intense waves of love. Sometimes it’s a dream, but I must say it’s not. It’s something beyond that. I’d not be seeing anything before that moment, but when I do open my eyes, something just falls into my lap. An intense dream-like vision of a timeless space where transformation begins. Just like today, I woke up before 3 am, my body squirming as it comes alive after a deep sleep. Instantly, I’d find myself streaming with a knowingness so profound of some experience that will change my heart forever. It hurts. My chest collapses and I keep turning, feeling resistance to what the mind cannot comprehend. I cry because it transforms me, this knowingness, and I stare into the blankness of the night with such helplessness, not really knowing what to do. I’m not afraid, but I don...

When it’s dark again, and it gets darker later now that it’s spring, I go back intentionally. I go back to when the world was coloured in the sweetest green and gold. When the sky was soft in lilac hues and the earth was the perfect kind of dry grey, softened by the moist sand underground. I go back to when I sat with you, your eyes wide but at peace. Your eyes soaking the beauty of the world so gently and my doubt dissolving in sunshine. It’s been two nights now and I keep going back. I pray not to forget. Oh God, why do we forget? I don’t want to.. I want to remain this soft, this present, this selfless. Please, help me not to forget. Help me remember how it felt like so I could keep giving with such grace. Help me remember so that I continue to serve You in the name of love. Dearest God, help me remember, even if it feels like dying. I’m willing to die again and again— but I just want to keep remembering my truth, and it’s who I saw in your wide, inscrutable eyes and your skin glowi...

Again, I fall speechless and teary-eyed. Last night, it was that— my eyes welling up, shattering at the holiness of life lived for love. I could not sleep at once, visions ebbed and flowed, surrendered to with ease. This February was sacred. Around here, the dance of spring commences— the haunting fragrance of fermented sunshine, the spiciness of fresh weeds and the lingering hours of sunlight. There was no way but to melt into the venerated beauty that I believed in back when it was cold, empty and so death-like. It was the month to live my truth— a gentle presence squirming into my days. The softness of working by and for love, spending the morning hours in the garden, digging the ground, pulling out weeds and planting chamomiles, watching Venus disappear with the daylight. I learned about the holiness of the earth, and it grounded me towards baby steps to take to radiate loving action for our world. By the end of the month, my companion arrived to our garden with two baby trees; a b...

I’ve come to think of art very differently. What art was once: a painting, a song echoing through the strings of our hearts, a poem ripping apart our blindness and perhaps, everything beyond and in between tangible forms. I honour art. The pulse that drives my existence is artistry. But not this kind— not the one that lives in distinctive form. My pulse is real , limitless art. For me, art is the consciousness of co-creativity. It is the process in which the artist derives inspiration beyond what is seen and apparent, and melts into it, allowing the soul to serve the unseen through intentions and therefore, action. What truly is the product of art is the whole life of an artist. The entirety of it. Everything in an artist’s life mirrors his/her intentions. The beauty and originality of the artist’s actions become the natural consequence— and it does not merely have to be the painting or the song or the sculpture. It can be the way the artist gazes into the beauty of a flower; the wor...

  Sometimes I like to imagine the world when I’m not in it, and it will remain ever so beautiful, ever so balanced, present and reverent and real and raw, working its way through cycles, entwining darkness, death and lessness with the fingers of unfettered streams of Light, Life and fullness. Such a notion leaves me a lightbody, as I chose to roam this Universe as I am, presently. A lightbody, bouncing like a blackbird, making its way through the alleyways of flowering delight and isness. There is no way  but to walk the walk of love, dance the dance of love, live the life of love, and gratefully, in deep thanks, die its death.

  I was born into brokenness, and in brokenness. My first memories of this world were very dark and I did not impart unconditional happiness upon my arrival. I was born into fear and in fear. My memory was clouded by the earthly responsibilities of childhood and adolescence. My soul and heart were forgotten, and I remained in the haze of transition for a very long time. But then the speck of light in me awakened as I grew, and I have reclaimed my light upon all the brokenness my life was built upon. I could even muster the words to say that I am afraid of myself, of the power of love in me— how it annihilates everything I’ve been through and binds all dimensions into one timeless, spaceless nothingness.  I could navigate my fear of myself, sometimes on my own, and sometimes I’d need your eyes. But will you ever be afraid of me, my dear one? Will you ever be afraid of my light that I cannot begin to contain? Will you ever be afraid of being received by me, in all your brokennes...

Last year, I wondered if I could write a letter to my future self— my ideal, most honest and authentic version of me who already is within me, but needs the most appreciated dimension of all: time, in order to bloom into being. Upon reading the letter I wrote to myself last year, I see how I’ve taken steps towards what I intended for in terms of growth. But as we grow, we find deeper parts of ourselves that yearn to shimmer into the light of day. Here is a letter to myself, and all the healed parts of me. My dearest Soraya, My dearest, softest flower in the fields of your dreams, Your eyes are melodiously sweet as you’re reading this. Your features have softened, something in your face has emulated a healing kind of grace that is ever-forgiving and acceptant. Your eyes are ever-bright, wide with exuberance and equanimity.  And what happened to your voice? How have you grown to embody strength and the unmatched power of truth through it? What once held me so deep in insecurity and d...

Lately, I’ve been feeling a shift within myself. Sudden fierce rejections to certain aspects of day-to-day life, and quite oppositely, sudden and extreme embraces towards ideas I never imagined I’d accept.  Lately, I’ve noticed that I’m making decisions quite differently— it’s mostly intuitive, mostly based on sensations in my body that I cannot but trust, lest I’d really want to decide upon suffering with inexplicable waves of pain. It’s different, it’s not like me— or maybe it is the whole of me. Having always been a plant-eating enthusiast, I know that eating plants is a cardinal part of my day. Yet, it’s certainly different now. I cannot eat other foods as tranquilly as I used to. Hot meals— meat, fish, chicken, frozen vegetables and even packed pasta are foods I cannot get myself to ingest anymore. I’m not saying I like it— sometimes it is quite cumbersome. Yes, I receive a cacophony of inspiration and heavenly sensation with my usual meal of seasonal fruit and fresh vegetable...