a daylight dream

Sometimes I forget and get lost in the maze leading me up to endless skies. In between the doing, surrender is sweet, it is overwhelmingly relentless, often addictive, that one feels that something is wrong if a peek to the ground is forsaken. In those days, I forget what I’m here for. I forget the purpose of the strife. It all becomes quite confusing to understand— how did I get here? How was all this enabled into happening so swiftly? It’s where I’m at. I look at the long list of commitments surrender has carried me towards so gently. I am even sure that they could be kissed into existence with ease, but with humanness, I often panic at the brink of each evening wondering how it could happen. I then feel really afraid. I want to escape. I wonder, too, dear one, how I got myself surrendering my fears of togetherness. The shame that runs down the vines of my lifeline, all the fragile notions to be undone, all the big stones to be lifted in ease. Now that I look in hindsight, that was a...

November is one of those solemn times of the year, when the year ages and monotony settles in. The intentions sowed in autumn crystallise into a hidden knowing, its only requirement is to be habituated, which is always the most difficult part, especially for a soul that revels in the glory of new beginnings and diverging dreams. The trees have become barren and the sun does not shine as luxuriously as it did. It’s warm and subtle, but it smells different now. It’s this fragrance that makes me miss the exhilarated motions of spring. The passing of months have become truly ritualistic now. Every month teaches me something new, and perhaps I’ve learned shortly more about my attachments to this world. It’s easier to accept my mistakes and not being adept at most of my doings, but God, I find myself really clumsy in most processes that involve ordinariness. Once I’m acquainted by new dreams and imaginings, magical occurrences that touch the brink of unknowns— this is where I feel most grate...

  It darkens now, the sun rests early into the spherical horizons, a halo above the nighttime prolonged, revered. An intention is pinned by the precipices of my heart—  the truest sun is love.  As October rolls by with the grandest lessons on lightness and ease, eyes are closed. The heart  knows . How this soul has learned to pay attention to its vehicle, how it has chosen to see close, see deep, see the truth surfacing clear.  It’s November soon, and now love knows it can choose this soul as its instrument. It has readied itself with death after death. There are many more, for sure, there are many cycles of forgiveness and shame to experience before it’s truly time. Yet now, love knows it can live with courage. It can endeavour through the fearlessness of being chosen over and over again. It can climb its climb and shine— a sun, a star, in the infinite galaxies of isness. A star knows its lonesomeness is a silence only for the ones who know what it’s worth. The...

Near them, dear. Near where we planted our first intentions of a family. The brokenness that unfolds in their presence. The surrender in limitation to truly experience a limitless mercy, one of God’s, a  gift . I haven’t been there for some time. I know why. Their truest essence pins me down in a sacred longing and makes me yearn for what has been written from the very first day I saw your eyes, love. Oh, the mirth, the smiles. I sigh. The memory, how ancient it is. Its brokenness. The streams of forgiveness we are reminded by. The first time we were blessed by its subtle touch.  I believe we need to be reminded by their nearness in the start. To become enveloped by their grace. All what we knew and ever will— the  gift . Let us receive the gift, dear one. And if you don’t believe me, just come here one more time. You’ll listen  why .

what breaks me, in gratitude and in deep shame, is the humanness of doing. to be out there, to be identified with the translation of divine will and the forgetfulness of truth. that it’s not me. it’s not what it seems.   and I’m made of stardust, crystalline metals and water, electric and solar. and to be a floating translation, always a few feet above the ground is the kind of living that soothes my soul. always in the in-between, the cloud-high airplane, a few moments in the landing and not more. a few moments more, and I’m broken by the weight of gravity. the gravity of forgetfulness and the pressure of variables shifting in space. time slows down.  this is not me. in the truthful return to silence, I meet the stars again. I meet the visions and the ideals. I meet God’s words foreordained and here is surrender. here is the heartful rest. being with love.  being with Him.

  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 ch...

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...

Upon silence, I’m reconnected to the ocean-like wavelengths within me. Your eyes span my ethereal dimensions so enchantingly and I become a drop that holds everything here. A drop merging in drops, boundaries collapse— melting into your ever-presence. A channel between our gazes, dear one.  Love . A realm beyond our own, and I’m here in receivership, my heart overflowing in your purity, not a drop of otherness within you. All at once, I’m not sure how to be like this— in this ancient knowing, in the eternal kiss, in a coalescence of universes. You have told me how one cannot tread this presence but without God’s righteous path. A  togetherness . A bond sealed with sacredness. A right to venture deep into it fearlessly, shamelessly, boundlessly. But like this, I’m overcome with the limits of time. Tears well in my eyes for I see it— somewhere, but not here; sometime, but not now. Yet, this is the only time and space we know but have never been to. Talk to me , my love. Don’t le...