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About Love

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Strip away all the comforts of civilization and step away from all of its conformities. You will find me contemplating, both physically and mentally exhausted, confused in solitude: “ What is love?” “If there is a heart beating next to yours despite all the vagaries life weights you with, then that lightness of being, the feeling of glad vulnerability is perhaps the closest thing to true love” “To be known for all the right reasons despite being so wrong, is it love?” The world fades away in a blur and I am forgetful of things that are present. Yet, I remember things I should not have forgotten … you see love is the magnet to draw forgotten memories and a powerful catalyst of change in your life. It motivates us to be civilized, and find the middle ground, as it brings the thing called “should/could” into our lives, and we start to feel empathy for the less fortunate and be more forgiving. Being civilized means having the ability to survive and to be able to think for someone whom we
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So Long...

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Either way, there's never enough time to do all the things we want." Life is too short to avoid taking risks                          (- Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead)                          Fear We can do more, be more. If we just dare, to do so… How many things did you dream of doing before the grand finale? A thousand, a hundred, or not even a ten ? Promises are broken , and wishes forgotten along with the memories of regret…  It is so easy, to let them go . And easier, to procrastinate!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      (PC:  pngtree.com) Duality. The past and the future. Summation of either distant memories or crossroads of possibility. We live in the past carrying the weight of our identities, race, gender, and the very ide
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Landscape of the Mind

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Blessed by introspection colored in anecdotes the memories coalesce  as I travel back in time... (PC:icanvas.com) The past  emerges as a temporal yet intensive replacement for the present. Recorded within my humble scribblings, they strive to impart justice to living memories alive in the ebb and flow of my naive heart. This flow spreads pervasively to the rest of my being, pulsating the identity I so carry. Rather than the teleological tendency of the rational mind, they convey those epiphanies colored in the spectrum of chaotic emotions witnessed by the light of my awareness. With subjective awareness of the myriad of imperfections never reaching the final conclusions, I am sure they are destined forever to be etched as vague musings. I realize this afresh with the solidarity of  me  that exists in the possibility of different dimensions. Nonetheless, I connect with those different versions of I , and we are never so sure that they shall remain as mere musings.   The present I wish,
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Letting Go...

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" The price of wisdom is suffering " " Yet, when all is lost... even a part " you ", you define as yourself, hold on, be the steady rock enduring the wrathful storm, with a pure heart, a clear mind, and spirit free  letting go, distraction, abstraction, retraction holding in only  that which you truly need, then, you will rescue yourself,  then, you will soar to true freedom, then, the only question is when..." ...When we become  more  when we have  less  ..."  -the earth opens up to the heavens for mortals to ascend,"   once more                                                                                                                                                                                   (PC:  reflections25blog.wordpress.com) In, the u ncertainty that   represents life,   having less, the heart synchronizes with the mind, and the body strives with purposeful steps continuing that long march, under the sweltering sun during the
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Kindness of Stranger

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Kindness of Stranger A beautiful memory, as fresh as the morning lilies swaying by the cool morn; it visits my forgettable mind with unforgeable warmth. Breathing deep in its vivid depth of remembrance, its ordinariness is what makes it remarkable, to me. Both in form as well as in the essence, a brilliant spark of clarity blazing amidst the murky world, it invites recollection in the tranquility of solemn silence. The beginning of this remarkable memory, an ordinary memory, was the end of a fateful another. It was the time when COVID-19 had just retreated from its ruthless sojourn, and its retreat had endowed my reality with a sense of normalcy. Finally, I was set free. Free from the suffocation of four walls, which were meant to protect me. There, I survived dwelling in a perpetual echo chamber of the self, scrolling up and down, the boiled-down version of the daily expiration of lives , desensitized by the rising cold hard numbers. It was simply boredom retiring with a sigh, wh
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Yet.

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"Inevitability.  Conformity.  Acceptance." Their positive connotation is the new normal. Or has it been ages?  Regardless, rebelling or even resisting inevitability is a losing case. It is not even a battle, simply a massacre. (pc: ladykflo.com) To confirm what is considered to be standard is natural.  Question unasked.  To willingly accept with a shrug, and be on our way, is a mantle of maturity.  To us... the ordinary. Indeed. Why confront? Why think? Why even bother?   It is easy to accept the inevitable, and far easier to follow the footsteps of our predecessors, our gurus. They offer a well-trodden legacy for us to walk, enlightened.   And the feeling of being a valuable albeit invisible member of the facade of greater harmony is so heartwarming!   As  a part of the greater community envisioned to embrace materialistic unity!! As one who courageously shares one's life with like-minded.  Find happiness therein. Yet. This happiness is created by conditions beyond us. I
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Come Again?

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    Introspection ; my dear old friend graces me with her visits, unexpected yet pleasant. She always arrives bearing gifts, precious on her each visit, subsequent. And thus, she graciously extends her warm trust unto me, and I cannot help but kindly return it, likewise.                                                                                                                                                                                                              (PC: deviantart.com) The steady hands in the tickling clock hanging on the wall, turn dutifully half a dozen times…, yet indifferent we, we eagerly learn from each other, as equals. And so, her eclectic vision guides my thoughts, and my humble perception explores her depths. Knowing her, conversing with her mind; beautifully inquisitive unlike any other, I realized I changed naturally without that constant need that haunted my past self. Realizing it further… my heart beats “Life” Life, it never was, is, or
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