a daylight dream

It is August ending, at last, and with it, summertime memories of this year end, too. It makes me quite weary to notice how time flies and new beginnings are simply thursted onto our palms, like persistent invitations. Sometimes, I want things to last a little longer, just to spend a few more days in reverence and appreciation for all what has been and all what hasn't. August was not as enchanting, but it left me enchanted. I close this month feeling so much enchantment and appreciation for life's spellbinding miracles. It was quite disheartening to spend so many rainy days feeling dull and dampened, there were also a few family issues that I stood helpless and powerless before. My parents decided to close this summer with so much resentment and anger, and for a while I thought I would do that, too. However, I caught myself a little earlier and chose to open my heart again to love sincerely, capture the blessings and focus my whole existence on the little things I have faith in

Now, those are the moments that I truly cherish these little things that are often unrecognisable, blurred in a background of static. An echo of laughter from the other room, the kettle boiling, gentle creaks of the floors and the swooshing cupboard doors. It’s these days that life before me becomes vibrant to observe, even overwhelming. I see it all but it doesn’t find a way to get inside of me, and I’m not an active participant— I just stay still and watch it all, a window in my heart sealed tightly. I smile before my sister’s wildness, her sloppy ways of being. I watch my father joke insanely, filling the house with her screams erupting with genuine laughter. I observe how the sunlight touches the furniture so wondrously, and glimmers catch my eye with meanings and beautiful revelations. Sometimes it feels as though my heart has toughened from all the things I have to keep outside of it. There is much to shield and I’m always on guard, deciphering what to let in and what to keep out

Here they are, the last few days of this summer before returning home. This summer had been the most beautiful and most enchanting, with tribulations that were traversed with ease and grace, ridden along with the light of transformation. It was a summer of balance; I recall that I had beautiful summers before, but they all crashed into deep pits of not knowing how to deal with the unknown imbedded in goodbyes and subsequent new beginnings. I want to reflect upon this summer to sew those memories in lessons and little transformations that I can take home with me. Perhaps there were more vivid memories in my inner world rather than on the outside. There were little trips around the country and beyond borders, yet still, every walk was an adventure and a spellbinding experience. This is what I’m here to account on. the outdoors The most prominent thing about this summer was my intention to be outside as often as possible. Bicycle rides were abundant with ordinary sights. We discovered new

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