Seeds in hand

the blankness of my mind is hardly complementary to the swirl of emotions that is the rest of my body.  not only do i feel the coldness within tightening my muscles, but there is this acidic like burning that’s drenched my anatomy, as though i’ve knocked back quite a few shots of doubt, and way more than my liver can handle.

I was saying just last night, i’m now embarked on a whole new journey, something that still has no literature to it.  there are no maps i’ve drawn to refer to. no little manual about do’s and don’ts.  no brand identity guideline. even who I am as a person is changing, and where i encounter instances that may resist this shift, my whole being it tremors just a bit. why.. because everything is still in the air. my seeds i mean to plant are still just in my palms, as though I haven’t found the ripe soil which they will best grow and bloom.  no roots.  just seeds in hand.

of course if we bundle this together with everything my body is still by the way going through- it ain’t a successful paella.  i would say no body should be enduring so much at just a one instance.  but that’s as stupid as ever.  because i am, and because well- things could still be a lot worse of course. in fact, i ought remind myself that i’m in recovery stage now. and at the very least i guess, my seeds are in hand already.

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no room for white…

I sit in an underlined, bolded, and italicised huge question mark right now.  After a conversation with a friend, I am left wondering the contrasts of Black and White.  Happiness and Sadness.  His statements tell an absolute invalidation to the sad emotions. Emotions even in general really, but the negative ones more so in particular.

Now, at some point I may have agreed with him. Negative emotions like sadness and anger, despair, or even confusion are useless and stupid.  Do not humour your sadness, everything in life is passing. so there is no need to be sad. yes sure. to dress everything in the logic was at some point, my forte even.

  • the problem with ‘logic’ is that it leaves no space for the grey areas, and sometimes, no room for the white standing against the black (or vice versa).

But since, i’ve had my experiences and my reshaping of even logic itself, which have taught me that all ranges of emotions belong to us humans.  to all living creatures even.  to feel sadness is to process a context, what it means to us, and surely there is something we learn from it. otherwise it wouldn’t be within our capacity to feel it, right?

and then there is the common concept, “the things that make us happy can also make us sad”.  my loved one returning my love, will make me happy.  if he refuses or denies it, this will make me sad.  Now, my question is, how can we break those two apart?  How can I, in this very context, adopt my happiness only, and disconnect from sadness? and is this, correct? is it valid? is this logic in fact sense full?

For a victim of a violation of any kind, can we truly, really turn around and say- “hey, by being hurt about this, you are just hurting yourself more. get over it, and move on. now don’t dwell, that’s stupid“.  is that right? for the victims of natural and human disasters, those who have lost their whole family and life in a blink of an eye, should we condemn them for shedding a tear, because it is a useless emotion?

This seemed indeed to be his standpoint.  and I don’t know if it left me doubting my own thoughts, or perhaps a little sorry that he has deprived himself so dryly of tears?

As i said, huge eff-ing question mark.

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Self importance or altruism?

time runs faster than my own thoughts sometimes.  which is crazy, because my mind is a professional runner.  the days take us as though we owe them mind body and soul, well… anyway, point being.. so many realisations dawn on me, except I have no time to put them in their correct box, and label them as needed… so what realisation am I getting at today…

why are we here is a question we ask ourselves whenever we have the luxury of asking.  as I said, the days and the time tucked in between and all around allows little for reflections and retrospections..

this question always presents itself to me with many answers, some at given moments come to me as much prominent than others, but they alternate always. so what are some of those answers.

i’m here for my passions.  the reason for me to live is to write poetry, to learn music, to teach to read to love the universe and to return always to the embrace of my mother nature.  it is for the green moments that after taking my breath away, they give me eternity in return.

but then I am also here because I feel like i’ve been placed on this earth at this given time to help the people who have crossed my path, as friends and loved ones.  I am more than often the ghost buster, the fireman, the marry poppins or nanny mcphee, a party of the avengers, a superhero.

while being a superhero is associated with glorification, I assure you it is not.  responsibility is the cost of strength, the price of what I am capable of doing for those around me.  it is no burden, it is a privilege.  “Fati is always there, and you can count on her blindly”.

sometimes I worry that these thoughts are narcissistic, and egotistical.  the world burdens are not shaped for my shoulders, and who am I to think i can put out every fire.  but somehow i’ve been assumed as a given helpline to so many around me.  I’ve taken flights and crossed distances, literally to hold someone’s hand.  i’ve put myself at risk of hurt at times, placing myself between someone, the rock and the blow.  why. because I can handle the pain. because i am strong enough for it, and so i will take it instead of you.

now that i’ve come to this realisation. I wonder what it makes me. i wonder if it is self importance, or sincere altruism. I really don’t know.

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For the Love of Pain

my mind is blank this morning. maybe because i’ve slept a bare 4 hours, or maybe because the night before was such a storm.  either way, i’m finding it hard to figure out what it is I wish to articulate, though I could swear there was a thought in there worth exploring (at least so it seems).

oh yes. “For the Love of Pain”.

Of recent, my heart has entertained rather daring and vast emotions for a young man, who in reality I barely know.  I saw him, hanging from a tree (literally) lol… and then found my eyes drawn to him as he went about his business.  It is no joke, and it is no crazy when I tell you I saw his aura, his soul, the energy zone around him more bright and beautiful than star dust fire works.  My interest sparked, and then in some matter of days, a nice to meet you, questions here, a run into there, little hi’s little see you around.. I mean nothing that would warrant a falling in love by any kind.  But I did.  Again, please know that my in-loves are very different than the advertised definition.  The poet in me found him to be a world I wish to explore blind folded.  I wanna walk about his mind and heart learning of him only what other senses can tell, like the sound of his heart beating, or the salty scents of the oceans he loved diving.  of course, all these sensations i confessed, and scared him away like you won’t believe. HAHA.  he did mention he was afraid to hurt me, for I have too soon swooned.  and then I decided to just adore him from as far as I can tolerate.  (now that’s a bloody struggle) but then I wrote.

My darling, you cannot hurt me. For even my pain for you, is sweet on my lips- a fountain for my words“.  He ignored that message. lool.  yes yes, i’m ever crazy. anyway… the whole point of this story is to get to the pain.  the pain of knowing my hands will always crave his face, but will never taste it.  the pain of acknowledging even my crazy in all this, and that even though I have no idea what chance it is I want, i still don’t stand it.  Pain in knowing that the men I have loved the most today, and still do.. the men who are my sources of words and poetry, who course through my veins and I have no say in it… they are all unreachable, untouchable, .. married, gay, too young. and yet here I am jumping into the pain of loving as though it was a tub of honey and yogurt.  i’m gobbling up the pain, I wait for moments of solitude and silence and I rush to my broken heart.  broken but determined to love without question, without condition, without the ego who demands a return.  (this remains a battle) … because it gives me, yes, words. it gives me a river of rhyme, it gives me… poetry.

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some type of facts.

hi. so, the last two days have definitely seen an improvement, and i’m proud of my capacity to find the light. for even when I am blind, I know that the rest of my senses are at least, smarter than my eyes… I have, as such, recognised some key ‘facts’.  not scientific in nature, like water molecules are 2Hydrogens and 1Oxygen.  Facts like “this is what i have learned in this experience, and for now, it is guiding me just fine”.

1- The emotional journey is a cycle.  and it is normal, to feel the ranges of ups and downs. even necessary, as a human being, and more so as a writer/artist.  so it is ok. haha.

2- even when we have reached some platform of enlightenment, it doesn’t mean that we will just sit there forever, or move to another platform of higher enlightenment necessarily. as emotional journeys take circular or zig zag routes, as does clarity, understanding, connection with universal energies.  because at some point i had felt like i reached the wow of enlightened existence. and then realised at some junction that even though i knew ‘enlightenment’ by memory, i was in a cloud of doubt, and couldn’t grasp what my memory had to offer.

3- and very importantly.  we are told that distractions are no good. if you have a problem, face it with no distractions, got a job, focus until your eyes pop out. whatever… distractions have worked great for me of late.  now, they can be deadly, and certainly a terrible notion if they are used to run away from the truth.  but if you need moments of exhale, moments of forgetting who you are at this little passing moment, when the mirror is ever so cruel… a distraction serves like a buffer, slows the process so that you can catch up to it.  these distractions ought have another name, maybe I can call them “palette cleansers”.

i allowed myself distractions which have in turn become healing in their nature. like playing the guitar.  i love practicing, and in the moment i hold my new love in my arms, I am no where else but with the strings that respond to me faithfully and loyally – she embraces me back as I hold on to her.  then there are outings, lunch and a whatever with a friend, with a someone who understands my pain, or someone that has no clue.. either way, it served as a reminder that human connection is like a life jacket.

4- last but not least, and most importantly for today… to travel back to your roots, and find that ground again.  I had realised that the last x months of my life, I have had no time for reflection, not a moment to digest all the happenings (and I am one generally with very eventful days)- hence when I had attempted my launch into happiness, into a new me, I did so where I was so far from the ground.  silly it is to jump when you’re in mid-air already.

So i sought my oldest friends (by time and by soul), I sought the ones whose hands were there when my roots were planted.  my phone on silent, and i’ve retracted to some extent from the new (except for the guitar).  I am, and shall continue the attempts at journaling. still a bit hard… but that is the very root of me after all.  and only when i’ve gotten my feet back on the ground, will a jump resonate all the strength which my legs have built in the process of a journey to today.

(see i have a major deja vu here, because i know i’ve realised all these before. and it pisses me off, that I have to go through it again. but that’s just the ego talking i suppose.) (ya Fats, go back to point 1 and 2 pls. ).

anyhow, that’s all… work calls and something something…

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talking my way to happiness

For the love me, I am every oscillating between emotions high and low, and cannot find that specific release. But it is not the emotions that are the problem, so much as my incapacity to shake them off and let myself get busy with the things i must do.. like the job i need to finish up this morning, and the research i need to get through for the upcoming job next week.  I am up, rise and not so much shine, but early enough to get all that needs the getting done.  plus spend the friday with my family, to which I have ready packed a swim suit for a feel good jump in the pool.  I know it’s there, i just can’t see it (the feel good).

a part of me always wishes i had studied the human anatomy, more specifically the brain and its chemistries.  Maybe if I know how it works, then I can fix it. That is my ever obsession, is it not? to fix things?  myself being always one of them.  then anything that crosses my path and could use handy help. problem is, sometimes I want to fix things that don’t need or want it. “it’s not that it’s broken. just that it can be better.”- ya fati, and who appointed you the world toolbox? stick to fixing your brain. – fair enough.

well, I will try to help myself, now in this space.  perhaps a reminder of the things that draw a genuine smile on my face.  like my newly purchased guitar and the idea that we will be taking guitar lessons outdoor come november, to enjoy music in its freedom.

crap. am i done already? that’s impossible. ok there is G, whose presence always puts me at ease, and i feel like i’m home, just knowing she’s close enough (and knowing you’re reading me).  then there is the possibilities of the future, the plans for teaching, the dreams of writing, the aspirations to travel. all nice fati, but lets stick to the here and now. what makes you happy here. what makes you happy now. what makes you happy that is not circumstantial – again, fair enough.

I love my granola breakfast, and my coffee from Nepal plantations.  I like that I am working on affirmations daily, and proactively working to happiness or at least sans depression. I spent last night practicing the guitar and then sharpening pencils.  sharpening pencils is therapeutic believe me. i have a whole mug of freshly chopped lead, and I can write as much as i want before any of it runs out. (isn’t that just super awesome) I like that my office space is coming together nicely…..  i really don’t know. but it seems sufficient enough, no? and maybe even i’m feeling a little better already.

how about this one fati. I love that you care enough to be a better person, and not just for yourself but because you are conscientious of your affect on people around you, and while fixing the world is not your responsibility, you still want and believe and aspire to make whatever little differences you can on a day to day basis.  you care about everything and everyone, and you give unreservedly, your spirit is ever generous even when it has run out of love for itself.  you are strong even in your weakest, and in your weakest you surrender to your human condition with humility and grace.  you are learning that glory is not the ultimate goal, and that living, being, existing, is all that matters.  you dare to change who you are, and dare to be open to the differences of others, no matter how much it can shake your own sense of self. 

Total Moral:

believe there is more that can make you happy, especially beyond what is clear within your blurred vision.  just wait, and it will show itself to you.  whether from within, or elsewhere.

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my own kind of therapy

Heading back to see my therapist this morning. I look forward to such visits. While conversation with dear and loving friends always (well mostly) has its own magic on the psyche, it must be said that a professional and what tools they have are necessary.

i’m not saying all therapist or psychiatrists or life coaches are great. in fact, I had to go see quite a few to find the one who fit right for me.  Some are terrible, terrible, and God help their patients. anyway, besides the point. haha. (she does deter and babble much does she not?)

but then there is all types of therapy.  There is the buying of new furniture for my new office from ikea, as I had done yester. and then putting it together to slowly see your space come to form, as a casual and natural extension of yourself. (the task of some handi-work itself is good therapy)  then there is playing the guitar, and feeling my fingers getting numb and rough.  its the way the strings respond to me, the vibrations of sound reverberate into my stomach and chest as i play, i feel the music kissing my mouth.  i am, in the moment. there is waking up and realising that I have actually slept a whole night through (5 hours solid). and knowing because of it that I will be ok.  feeling like my mind is starting to relax some, hell i even feel the chemical difference in my brain. (is that possible?) Therapy is many things, and I discover little by little everyday.

Though at some point I could have pointed a million things that are happiness to me. (including a box of pencils).  today, it is a little harder for me simply as my better and clearer thoughts are locked away in a tower, and this girl can’t afford to wait for prince charming for the rescue. In fact it might be the wait that’s gotten her all crazy, right? lol.  I gotta be my own prince, my own kinda charming.  yep, as usual, fati to the rescue for fati. haha.

Total Moral:

here’s the thing, you can go to doctors all you want, but unless you take initiative for your own happiness, no hours on the couch will do that for you.  so what is happiness.  for today, its simple really, happiness (and natural therapy- like playing the guitar) is when you are able to live in your moment, when you are right there with, wielding it in your hand and letting it kiss your lips.

perhaps mindfulness, is the key to cease pointless thinking-ness

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