a daylight dream

My parents grew me up to love nature and everything that evolved from it. I was raised in a garden full of daisies, cherry and apple trees, gooseberry shrubs and earthworms. I lived in that little garden, usually pretending I was somewhere else, probably somewhere ethereal or heavenly. I'd pick the daisies and dandelions and put them in my hair, walk my caterpillar toy down the streets. I even remember digging for earthworms and trying to wash them from the dirt, but they ended up draining in the sink. Back then, I didn't know what nature was, but it was a part of me, a part of my memories, my dreams, my childhood. Earth raised me and put a beautiful impact on my identity that I am eternally grateful for. I think I was part of this generation which was raised when Earth was partially stable. There were enough trees, sufficient fuel stores, clear air and water. It's dreadful to think that I'm only eighteen now and I'm witnessing this downfall. The pollution, c

It’s time again to see the essence ‘neath the facade of what begins before us. The coal-black skies and lifeless frames that were once budding trees and ripening fruits are but temporary situations, brought about since the very beginning of summer. The eyes tremble before the very thought that what I see this moment is not true as it is deep within. Waking up early is a blessing for I can witness the unfolding of dawn, and I can see for real that this darkness has no identity by itself. There is always a mirror image of wondrous, spectacular light that reflects the darkest hours. Perhaps this is what winter is here to show me so compassionately, it is never as it seems. The uncertainty, doubt and harshness are only the other sides of the coin— it is followed by the truest dawn, the most spellbinding kind of light that makes you forget how it was like to be so insecure. Winter is but a spring in action, and so the harshness before me is but the fleeting absence of life, and it will soon

I wrote a poem the other day, about being nobody. As much as it was short and descriptive, an underlying concept resonated with me immensely. It's something that has to do with my archetype, I guess, which tempts to overly strive to stand out. I secretly enjoy being different, being somebody uncommon, taking people by surprise. I do cringe when I admit so, as it's not something I'm proud of. Such a disposition intensifies my ego's presence and does not work well in times of failure. Yet, through the happenings of this year and a couple of months before, I was least concerned with trying to leave an impression. Most of my focus was directed towards being and taking multiple leaps of faith in my own journey. It wasn't really about proving anything to anyone or trying to stand out amid the crowd, but it wasn't until that day I wrote the poem that I felt the grandness of being  nobody  at all. When I'm a nobody, I seem to forget the material world and immerse my

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 passionat

I’m back to my olden name which could perhaps surprise you. It even surprises me, but this decision had fallen upon my head in a moment of intense inspiration. To be truthful, I am passionate about what is inscrutable and finding meanings within what I do not understand. Every observable phenomenon is strongly bonded with a glorious metaphor that adds an enlightening glimmer to the world. I believe that my journey is not only to thrive because that’s only a momentary stage of life. On the contrary, it is to explore and dig deeper into what’s cryptic; the spectrum of human perception, giving meaning to the universe. Since I changed my blog to “Thriving One”, I was a little urged to speak only about what is positive and figured out, which is only an instant to be captured after many questions roaming a mind, allowing it to struggle, ponder and observe. I stopped myself from writing and being truly authentic about the discovery of what lies behind the veils of pain and resolv

 It ’s the first time that, as an educator, am conflicted by very detrimental views. Danger was looming in for years now— technology, AI and virtual realities equated by the low attention spans, multi-dimensional cravings for intense realities and a differential human expression to say the least. I’ve never felt it so close before, but it’s here, and I’m touching it with my own hands. The last few weeks have been a little deranging. I was trying to arrive at a conclusion— should I elegantly ride the wave of technological expansion or resist, staying loyal to this beautiful mirror of God’s humbling creativity— this glorious Earth. I tried to resist for sometime, and it has caused me so much stress to keep fighting, rooting my determination to stick to the truth. This resistance shook my love to my profession and the children I’m serving. I found myself dragging myself to plan my week’s learning experiences, feeling dread over the uncertainty. It’s the nature of our times, it seems, this

From today, Earth will rotate more vividly and evidently. With every passing week, I shall consider putting on more layers on my skin to keep me warm and comfortable. Mornings will become darker, but I shall be there whilst the sun rises, colourises the sky, adding chromatic expectations for what is to come during the shorter days and longer nights. It is November, and a fear is tingling the edge of my spine, questioning my abilities to cope with the cold and the captivating darkness. Also, there is a shallow sceptic disbelief in how I’ll manage to reclaim my health and leave that vicious cycle of relapses for good. But oh, leaving that all behind, November looks brutally hopeful again; the clouds are approaching carrying more than just vapour, but providing the world with a cooler shade of colours, which makes the skies and infinite numbers of azimuths less blue and more foggy and uncertain. But oh, let that be. Let November be. Just as we should all let ourselves be,

A farewell unsaid, Locked within beating hearts, And a truth confusing us. Perhaps it was too much, Of love and distance magically touched, By human worlds entwining and learning, To let go all at once. I lift my palms of the notion, Of your presence no longer, Keeping me alive. For there is a sun in my soul, Immersed in darkness, Yet always rising in time. I’m synchronising the seasons, And the fallen leaves, With the shedding that might, Occur to me, And slowly, and in some way, I found you slipping, On a ground filled with memories. No longer do I grieve, But partake in the brief, Nature of love’s identity. We are always stumbling, Into beautiful eyes, Reflecting the light hidden inside, And I love life, For guiding me to you, But now you must leave, And I shall follow you. It is beautiful how, We need not apologise, This is inscrutably written, In heavenly bodies, Of fates colliding and truly beloved.

My intention in April was to revel in the exuberance of pounding thrills. Every day, my one dear mission was to find a thrill to hold on to— a thrill that fills the spaces of my heart, trilling with melodies sweet and delightful, pointing towards daylight dreams. But there were none to hold on to. My days were serene. There would be this void, a distinct emptiness that would fill my chest. A longing to be free of everything: burdensome responsibilities, judgements, nourishment and all else. I felt the intense need to be floating in freedom of servitude towards God.  I found it hard to let go judgements towards myself. One morning, I woke up heaving with hateful words I used to utter to myself, blaring in my ears, bringing down awful illusions. I desired to kill those words, to burn this loathsome self-talk and be free of it at last. But it didn’t work that way, this too, had to be surrendered. I feel like life is guiding me, again and again, to let go of control. Whatever I try to cont

I have always believed that the little moments were the ones to most cherish for the astounding way they make us feel fulfilled and alive. However, I don't know what happened that made me quite focused on attaining the bigger things and trying to perfect my own character which kept me off-track. Back again to my true self, I can inherently declare that it is the little things that allow us to experience sheer joy and content. It's not the goals we reach, it's the journey we decide to embark, which constitutes the little habits that we carry out every single day.   We always want to change to the better; to be more graceful, kind, loving and grounded. There's no better way capturing this than quietly thinking about what we are truly grateful for. I have some goals, many actually. I am quite future-focused (which is not always a great thing), but it occurred to me that I'd rather enjoy the journey towards my ideals, chasing them with fulfilment, love and p

Words would always flow to me when I asked them to; I’d find a torrent of sentences and ideas steaming around the inside of my mind, allowing the ideas to float subtly, and I’d make connections just as they appeared on the wave crests, to bring about an inspiring realisation. Somehow, these days, I’m quite akin to taking it slow in accepting the gushing torrents of thoughts. They are inexistent and based solely on the present; on what to do and what not to do. Nature is overwhelmingly wonderful with its messages, but I’m too attached with the current moment that I find it formidable to shift into dreamlike dispositions, to weave in visualisations and goals, to deem them as possible. It’s really uncomfortable because dreaming is an inherent part of my identity. The future is a trajectory made only for my own make-beliefs, where I am able to live the life I’ve always wanted to live. Perhaps what is causing this alteration is that— the present is much more like a dream r