a daylight dream

You can see me cinematically coalescing with the stretches of fields before me in light blue, pink and yellow; and this was my July. Never have I ever experienced a July so slow and reverent, for it always swept me away with its childlike laughter and spirits. This year, it had been exactly what I had intended it to be: a slow, gentle awakening. Before delving into my intentions, I just want to capture those fleeting moments of spending most of the day outside, taking the wildest roads while running errands and buying groceries for the house. It was finding my truest haven in those meadows of wildflowers, reaching for the air amid thorny weeds and sparkling their wake with butterfly streaks. It is me collecting chamomile and chrysanthemums, carrying scissors in my handbag to pluck out weeds for mid-summer bouquets. I walked into those meadows, sat in the company of the sweetest fragrances and sweetest conversations. It was all about getting truly and sincerely lost in the woods, trusti

Today, I turn twenty-three. It’s rather unbelievable, both to me and others, for it still feels like being ten or eleven at soul. This child-like love for life and being outside in the sun keeps me younger at heart, and no matter what age I am, it chooses me to be a child. I do hope I grow younger every year I grow older. I’m not here to talk about my twenty-second year although it was one of the most transformative and gentle years I’ve ever lived. Perhaps I shall reflect upon that in a separate post, although I do not want to over-analyse all the little things that had happened. I grew and have changed completely, floating towards the person I’ve always dreamed to be. I’m here to make intentions for my twenty-third year. I love growing, actually, for it’s packed with so many thrills and excitements. It’s lovely to grow in independence and have more impact on the world by being open to better opportunities to give and mingle with people whom I choose to share my gifts with. Butterflie

As I write this, I’m not sure who I am anymore. Even the nails on my hands make me look like a completely different person, for I haven’t bitten them for such a long time. I don’t think it is change that can describe this experience— rather the movement towards one’s inner truth. The path towards authenticity and all the love that is there to give makes all else shed and whither. So, I’m lighter, and  I’m at home. My intention for June was simply  belonging . I didn’t know what it meant when I wrote it down last December, but my soul spoke for me, nudging me towards finding out what true belonging meant. I always worked hard to belong somewhere: a country, city, workplace, etc. At least, I wanted to know where it was in the world that I felt at home. Travelling always made me feel the exhilaration that came with trying to find that one place that made everything flood with meaning and love. Yet, June came and showered me with a beautiful, soulful revelation: I belong whenever I choose

  I can't believe I'm writing this. Goodness, what a year! I've seen miracles before, but not this way, not in that magnitude, in that quality and quantity. I adore this post idea, and I'm quite galvanized to keep writing it every single year. I imagine myself writing " Twenty Years A Teacher ". I wonder how it would be like then. Oh, my heart shakes at the possibilities awaiting this beautiful unfolding. I'm writing this after I had celebrated the end of year ceremony and witnessed a learner crying when she received the grade of her dreams. Those children, they break my heart each time I see them. I started this year being quite awful at hugging people, getting all awkward whenever I had to be intimate. It's the last day today and I can't recognise myself as I rushed and hugged them all so lovingly. I didn't recognise myself when I smiled in pictures even though I'm quite insecure about being in photographs. I can't recognise myself at

I have only a few days left here, and I’m not sure how it is all unfolding so swiftly, yet in the perfect time. I can’t believe I’m travelling this summer to see my family— especially after all the hope that was lost, after all the pain of cutting the strings of attachments and expectations; that lifeshould go a certain way.  Reflecting upon this process, I remember myself last June. Those very days, last year, were truly painful. I had lost touch with my creativity and any perspective, and so everyday was the same. I had lost touch with the goodness of my soul that everything beautiful existed outside of me— and so I had to keep chasing and working hard for it. That course, that book, that international conference, that job interview, that demo— all was out of reach and I had to search outside of myself to make it work. Oh, I was lost. I lost myself to petty climbs when all was within all along. I look at myself, today, having lost myself to my soul. My soul that sees abundance and ri

May was an expression of authentic growth, with all its phases. It was the budding of authenticity as well as its maturation. It was the tumultuous unknowingness that came along with shooting towards the sun and flowering with ease and beauty. It was everything in between, and if there is something that I deeply long for in my life, then it's the authenticity that thrives when growing towards the sun of my soul. May allowed me to get closer and closer to my truest nature: the most intimate dreams, values and quirks, too. I experienced the expression of my heart so powerfully this month. I'd be forced to wake so early and walk to my armchair, opening the balcony and just let my soul speak as the sun transformed the skies. It seems that when my soul speaks, it decodes itself through a series of heart-wrenching daydreams, ones that entail the love I wish to verily give to the world and receive in return. Of course, it was painful to feel everything too deeply. I even had to take o

Oh, how thrilled I am for the onset of summer! I don't know what has happened to me all of a sudden. As soon as May set in, it's like my childlike spirit came back to me, making me laugh in the rarest occasions, bubbling within me the most endearing excitement for the thought of a new day. It's quite beautiful. I'm so grateful for summer. I attest that summer is not for much thinking. It's detestable to stay locked in my thoughts for a moment too long when the day is teeming with youthful energy and the heat is searing through the glass windows. It's a time to be one with everything. A time to experience, to sense, to live and laugh and love. It's a time to reduce the plans into flights of dreams so intricate that they land to the ground, to become practically sound and doable. With the longer days, I feel I have a variety of things to do, even when my day is packed. It's a time to get creative and loud with bold newness, no matter how silly it may be. I

I know I keep writing too many narratives about life. Fictitious narratives on love and grief give life so much meaning and they somehow capture the essence of each and every little experience. While walking in the streets last evening, a vision fell onto my lap. A vision that truly made me let out a few fat teardrops that were silent enough for no one to notice. It was a story so saddening and sorrowful, but I'll write it out anyway. Years forward, it could make sense. Despite making up all those dreams for a beautiful life, I know it is not without grief. Sometimes I wonder if all those dreams would just become reduced to mere pictures and words when the foreordained sequence of events comes to play. Dearest one, I must admit that I envision losing you sometimes. I imagined how it would be if one day, you just weren't here. I imagined how it would pierce my heart with excruciating pain. I imagined how I would not manage to hold myself up from being struck by the notion that y