a daylight dream

will God forgive me if I’ve changed enough that my heart has changed? a heart that knew nothing but worship, His remembrance and reverence now knows more. there’s more than God’s presence here. a while ago, I would be remembering God’s gifts in my life, daydreaming my bus rides away. but here I am, on a bike ride through parks, thinking about this week’s bike ride with the girls, planning it in my head, wondering what the weather would be and articulately crafting instructions and manoeuvres. is this okay? when I got here, I used to feel a crippling guilt everytime I allowed life to consume me: the little doings, the details of everyday life. it felt like suffocating compared to God’s graceful, expansive remembrance. there was a stark difference, and I was scared. God, I was so scared I was being unfaithful. it felt like a betrayal. yet, the more I truly live and experience the beauty of this lifetime, I wonder if it is okay. I wonder if God meant for us to see this, too. to let it in ...

rare as forget-me-nots, found basking in the mellow light by creeks and solemn meadows, undiscovered, untempted to be of anything, of anywhere. still, they murmur a memory. the forget-me-not seeds I kept in my purse for years. their home was a garden where blackbirds and hoopoes dwelled— it was but a sacred dream. the dandelions whimper of all the wishes they keep secretly until a landing on golden grounds is sealed.   they’re wisps wrapped in silky touches of spring-air.   they talk to me. they’re not gone. poems.. songs. my broken sounds ‘neath apple boughs and midst a flower bed so serene. but I’ve let all my birds go never seeking their distant return. I’ve let them go as I let an old love die, taking me along with it. but they’re here now. my birds. my forget-me-nots, and sacred dreams.

the chestnut trees are in bloom, and it leaves me in awe. how could I have not seen this last April? why, when I walk these streets of spring, I wonder why have I forgotten everything that happened last year. why did it all slip into oblivion, especially all the beauty and gifts of this season. well, I remember. I was stuck in bed, in tears, taking 6 sleeping pills a day to escape the gnawing pain in my abdomen and heart. it hurt to be alive. I remember now. remembering how it was like last spring, I remind myself of the absolute necessity of patience in this lifetime. how could I have endured without the ease that patience brings? the faith that it would change, that transformation is a prerequisite to all situations, no matter how permanent they seem.   perhaps now that I am better, I realise how dissociated and disconnected I’ve been from my own body, all these years. there is no way that this pain resurfaced from nothing. it was building up slowly, and it was a weight I was car...

spring has been shaping up the entirety of the world’s state these days. so many blossoms and sunshine to make up for the dreadful, deathly winter where I cocooned in crevices, haunted by all the darkest memories. as my cat bathes in the ray of sun entering through my balcony this morning, it crossed my mind to write about what I’m grateful for, for the sake of documentation. here are a few recent things I am grateful for that have made me feel so alive and connected to myself and the world these days. my cat’s love— Skyla is becoming such a cutie pie. it baffles me how close we are to each other and share so many traits. she is shy, sensitive and loves plants so much. she currently likes to share her mornings and nights with me, purring gently and requesting cuddles. she also visits my room at night and sleeps by my side. it’s beautiful to see how much she transformed; from being so scared to embracing love and being seen. it’s truly wholesome. walking in the green blue outside— I d...

what would happen if I disappeared for a few months, truly disappeared, and worked on internalising every beautiful, whimsical thought into my very being? what if after those few months I erupted like an everlasting blossom— glowing in peaceful reverence for life, withstanding the cruelty of paradoxes? what if I became seen, my body showing signs of a soul who has fallen in love with the humble ordinary, frolicking about the greenery with a sparkling smile that has forgotten what it’s like to fade? that is what I pray for. I pray to heal my body and heart that I truly forget what it was like to be in such pain. alas, it is earth, not heaven. still, I never cease to believe that heaven can be created on earth. I know that we as humans can transcend all futile suffering into an equanimous acceptance. my body holds so much pressure, fear and difficult memories, even if I don’t remember much of it in my mind. my body hurts, and I feel like I’m carrying mountains of fears I once felt, cripp...

today, I found myself reverent of the empty spaces my newfound life has bestowed upon me— spaces that have given way for this catharsis to take place. the emotional upheaval, incessant pains and surfacing fears.   I still notice that I’m fearful and judgemental most of the time. it requires so much effort from me to mindfully stay present, relax—  soften . years ago, I discovered what softness really meant. melting into oneness, the present moment, aliveness and beingness. it’s such a subtle sensation, but when felt, it captivates me and lures my mind to keep chasing that state, for it is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. I miss this kind of softness. I caught myself melting into it today on the metro, on the ride back home. my body took less area in space, my soul shined through. it felt quite surreal. back to the empty spaces. so, every time I stray, I remind myself that I really need to heal. I don’t know what it means, but my inner child truly wants me to prio...

 diminished was an era of brittle beliefs— and daydreams. dozens of them at a time, accompanying soft melodies and radiant sunshine. it took me years to envelope the suffocation and make pine-air out of a savage stench. this is what I realise now, being on the other side, all the things I loved, despite being so real and so mesmerisingly beautiful, were not at all alive. I spent my days and bus rides making up those stories, writing about them, pretending I was someone else. someone who knew the light, someone whose darkness could be embraced, tightened into a charming little ribbon pinned on a flowery, bohemian dress. ribbons that kept my heart alive were certainly chimerical and phantom-like. I befriended flowers , birds and passing clouds. I wrote songs , poetry and photographed ethereal views, sank in meadows and grassy fields collecting pine cones and wild grasses. those memories to me are sacred, but as much as they are beautiful, they were unhinged like spider webs that easi...

it’s been quite some time, I know. I’ve been wanting to write, but poetry is not freshly flowing as it once used to. perhaps I need to envelop my soul with more of it to feel the universe more deeply. yet, it has been a graceful, much needed change— leaning towards the present moment and neglecting the incessant romanticisation of life. I’m here to reflect on how it revived me to find gifts to give again. before Ramadan, God blessed me with this vision of giving free classes to children about a topic I cherish lavishly. at first, I thought it would be a project to improve my personal income and finances, but my soul asked me to do it for free, for the sake of giving gifts and being in touch with God’s benevolence and mercy. and, it was exactly what I needed to get closer to my heart. the mere intention to wake up each day and do something for God somehow resonated beautifully with some forlorn part of me, which truly dissipates while living abroad surrounded by material beauty. after t...

after a long fight, I have surrendered to what everyone has told me to do from the very start. anti-depressants. I was scared, petrified even, from taking something that would make me more of a con, remove the authenticity out of me, make me numb and emotionless. but here I am, on anti-depressants. a new professional therapist recommended it, because I wouldn’t be brave enough to open up sealed pockets from the past without feeling safe. she is right. it’s been tough living with that fog— that perpetual fear, that irritating voice that never stops threatening and accusing me of everything that goes wrong and right. no wonder why I locked myself away from the world; the voice was too loud, too accusatory, too debilitating to live with. it’s been almost two weeks now and the fog has lifted. it feels like ‘me’ again. ideating the entire day and dreaming the hours away, receiving God’s insights and manifesting them into what reality can take in and make ‘real’. it’s been beautiful although...