a daylight dream

  how many days has it been since I reconnected to that soul within me, and when a glimpse of its nature touches my heart, I find myself in tears, helpless at the gateways of vastness this lifetime has left me with. it’s been a cascade of inevitable changes. swirling, swooning cursive changes all along the spine of my little story. I’m in the airplane this moment, my husband on my lap, a sky so blue to my right. in the centre resides me, all what I’ve lost and who I’m learning to be. I’ve forgotten who I am. I’m quite unsure, searching for myself in the translations of this mirroring reality. am I reflection of it all? a reflection of the immense receivership, the boundless love, the endless tries, the laughter rippling more often, and the tears by the end of each prayer, wrapped in his all-encompassing arms. I’m quite unsure of my dreams, now. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. and so, I think I’ll be plunging into so many new things and investing my presence in this world in ci...

  I am learning that healing is not about what your working through in diligence and persistence, but the nonchalance in letting things be. healing at its roots is the most complex non-linear sprouting of beingness I’ve ever seen. it overwhelms a devoted heart by the many ways it can manifest, but at its heart, it is truly the simplest display. just as the stars beam in graceful softness, so does our humanness. it never was but the ease in it all. I’m learning that healing strains itself when we hold on to its difficulty. but we recognise it when we do things that may seem childish, but stem with so much inner, all-encompassing love. it may look like choosing that friend to see, that cup of coffee to sip slowly, that extra hour of sleep. it may be that ‘no’ to an extra bite, or a ‘yes’ to a fancy restaurant with a luxurious view. it may be that feeling that you’re beautiful and deserving. it may be that gift you’re buying for someone you love. it may be the sleep I’m losing waiting...

perhaps the only thing that I wish I could truly work on is healing the shame locked between my bones. the shame that binds me. the shame of not feeling good enough most of the time. the shame of not wanting to be in pictures, not knowing how to smile wide enough or laugh till it lights up my world. I get so self-conscious sometimes. I start fretting around the tiniest details about little things like that little wisp of hair not falling perfectly on my eye. some things like how my clothes wrap around my body, and how his gentle arms feel around my soul. there are little things that show me how much there is left to go in terms of self-love, and healing that toxic shame that penetrates me on the inside, stops me from eating what I like and doing what I feel I need to feel enough. sometimes I feel it so strongly that I manage to stop breathing and find myself weeping all alone feeling so ashamed, pleading desperately to disappear for a while and not be here until I see it clearly. I don...

  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...

  oh, my dearest heart. how fascinating you are, falling in love again and again. with every turn of this labyrinthine life, the paradigm shifts and you find yourself returning to a version of you you never were but always you knew held deep inside. isn’t it terribly perilous to keep falling again for life when it has so menacingly betrayed your trust? I find myself unable to keep up with that cynical temptation to be at the side lines. there are wings that were made to land only for the temporary, finding themselves in their skies again. I seem to be willing to have my heart broken again and again, just to have it healed in a renaissance. alongside the glimmering lights of ancient towns and riversides that welcome shivery winter walks, warmed by hands swaying in an embrace. my trust is inexhaustible. a trust that even if I’m failing and not seeing things through, the heartbreak is meant just for me. at least, the disappointment will be real. there’s an empowering authority in bein...

the most artistically beautiful question is perhaps: how do we alchemise this pain into another thriving existence? that is the process I cherish the most. the alchemical transmutation of my darkness into a wavelength more subtle, grounded and calm. there is a restlessness I find in me, toppling me down as I venture into new things. a grappling idea that I’m never enough. a stifled creative force so shaky and fragile that does not allow itself to burst into light. that is the miracle. a change of perception. every time I feel it gnawing at my insides, I can peek closely instead of react. I can liberate this anger into creating everything I’ve always longed for. I can smooth out the wrinkles of self-sabotage into surrendered trust in the universe. amongst everyone I know, I am rose-wrapped warrior with scarred skin. but I can do it all when I’m facing the sun, as long as my roses are nourished by comforting rains, glorious sunrises and friendly fresh winds. and now there is this anger. ...

it’s been a long time inside my bubble. the bubble of insecurity, silencing and imposed anxieties. a bubble of so many closed doors and a single three-inch wide window allowing for the faintest ray of light to beam in. a ray of God’s absolute beingness in my heart. but now it’s different. I’m outside this locked cage with a world filled with possibilities. ordinary happenings. annoying errands to run. things that take time. things that don’t. little things that fill the day— things like cooking, cleaning, managing and replying to texts. when life was just my heart and the devil, there was only one thing I had to do: survive. and when done correctly, thrive. therefore, it was only a perpetual strife to alternate between both in peace, and there was really nothing else I needed. I could give up on food, people, enjoyment and hobbies. I had to give up on everything just to have the energy to stay alive. and now, there are the little friendships to maintain. the business to keep up with. t...

longing. the emptiness of beds when you’ve felt the oozing sweetness of being next to another. the shallow waters of my own breath when it felt the depth of being mingled with yours. and I’m not sure. why? I feel longing at the pit of my very bones. a longing for everything I’ll never have— the infinite in those temporary steps. no matter how hard I try to make what I love ethereally alive, there are things I attach to with your body embracing mine. 

it’s been exactly one month since I arrived to Poland and for some reason, I feel it’s been ages away from who I was. some of my perpetual anxiety is fading away slowly. and there’s relaxation in the slowness of snowfall and how it glistens in the sunlight so valiantly. I’m here to reflect on what I’d been up to these days.    a lot of positive changes. a lot of closeness and intimacy and overarching love I cannot contain in that very little body of mine. working I’m on my way to developing a solid business plan for my educational entrepreneurial venture. I’m lately giving lessons that are focused on developing creative intelligence and expression in my learners. it’s been really exciting to see them so pumped up and excited for my online lessons, watching them do wonders. probably in one month or so, I might be able to curate a programme that is versatile and is beyond academic perspectives. I hope to develop a brand identity and name by then. right now, it’s only me with my ...

  and there are days on which you won’t love me well. the most mischievous smirk would lie on your face for hours. a smirk of getting what you want, of feeling that intimacy of the world lying down your feet in divine worship. there will be days when your control will be everything your eyes will see. and there won’t be me. there will be days when my love will be harsh on your heart. a kind of poetic discard. my eyes will search for His light in yours. there will be days when I won’t see it anymore. and I’ll slide off towards the frost in isolation, feeling the brokenness of being with you. the push and pull. the never enough. the heights we won’t always know how to reach. the seeing of  me  in me when it should be only you my heart trusts in times like these. and it will hurt. I’ll know how to hurt you. and you will know too. you’ll know how to hate me so much that it pins me to the ground. and from the words I don’t believe to the silence of deathly tombs, I hope my hea...