Photograph credit: Jake Hills at jakehills.com and https://unsplash.com/@jakehills

For I’m the moon. Flawed, yet irresistible. The most luminous at the end of my period. Birthing right after. And I’m the high tide. Dancing with the moon, myself. Churning great oceans in my curves.

For I’m the fruit. From sprout to nectar-dripping. Season after season.

For I’m the young monsoon. Purging dusts, old and stale. Washing up, every visit.

For I’m the wind. Screaming and howling gusty thrusts. Tumbling all that dare obstruct me. And I’m the breeze. Mild, hardly noticed. Absorbing and disappearing in your skin. Like light, lavender body lotion.

For I’m the woman. Shedding and renewing, every cycle. Starting afresh. Possessing the spell to bring change.

New Year’s

Photograph credit: Natalya Letunova at instagram.com/naletu and https://unsplash.com/@naletu

Resting my face, sideways, in the warmth, the part between the bed and the pillow. No one can take this from me. My preserved shreds of peace are for this moment. This is my oyster. All the stresses, negativities, shocks, and surprises of the day have finally passed. Like tornadoes of the ocean. I stayed shut.

The neighbours across from my bedroom’s window have beautiful, new lights for the new year. I assume I’m held through the night as I stare at them, charging myself overnight.


Photograph courtesy: Bernard Hermant at https://unsplash.com/@bernardhermant

Let your mourning be uninterrupted. It is as important as moving on. It’s where you rid yourself of the debris. If you don’t take as much time as you need to nourish yourself through your healing, how will you build new skin on bruises ? Even small, little splinters sometimes poke in surprisingly strong ways when the most trivial things bring unwanted déjà vu. Every next time that you sink low, you see leftover debris from the past. Like sunken coral reefs, except these aren’t beautiful. These are decayed, like wounds untreated. They’re painful to the touch and sight. No wonder these become, what we call, pain bodies. I first read this term in Don Miguel Ruiz’s books. So, yes, pain bodies. They cause all kinds of pains and health issues. What was emotional becomes physical. It must express and try to escape. Much of disease is unattended emotional issues. Dis-ease: not being in ease. It’s not easy to heal emotional pains completely and religiously on a timely basis. However, practices such as inward introspection and meditation give you the consciousness to find the causes and try to relieve the untreated pains from before and present. As if, you’re massaging the sore spots of your soul and rejuvenating it back to a calmer place.

Anxiety Excitement

Photograph credit: Lidya Nada at instagram.com/lidyanada and https://unsplash.com/@lidyanada

A note to self:

It’s not anxiety, it’s excitement. The way my brain and body start to buzz with energy is nothing but anticipatory nervousness, the way the stomach knots before a stage performance. The sudden way that the brain gets into a creative overdrive, coming up with too many innovative ideas to keep up with, causes a normal human reaction of skepticism and fear. It is not fear, it’s excitement. The fear is but a small test to pass before I can get to work to realize at least one of those amazing ideas that I can’t wait to dirty my hands with. The kinds that make me forget to eat and sleep. It is not anxiety, it is an almost unbearable, lunatic sensation to grasp the vibrations of all these ideas; of course it is not possible to grasp them all together. Don’t be afraid of the sensation, it is a preliminary to what lies ahead. It is an overbearing wait that my soul expresses before it can jump and view the sparkling skyline already. An organized, structured layout where all my ideas can be looked at together; coordinated, so that they are linked and one pure meaning is rising up from it all. It is not anxiety, but a sweaty, breathless moment behind the curtains, before I meet the true purpose of my life.

Creative expressions

Photograph credit: Tyler Nix at tylernixcreative.com and https://unsplash.com/@jtylernix

It’s like I’m hit with a wave of writing and I write, write, write. Then, I’m hit with a wave of stress and my writing bug is numb. For days, weeks, months. Until I choke on the lack of expression and need this urgent release. Then, I say to the world, fuck this, damn everything, to hell with sleeping on time every single night, no cares given to being diligent all the time at work, imma listen to my inner needs and get this release. I will type until I empty it all out and voila, it’s a masterpiece. A masterpiece for me, because, screw anyone else’s feedback. The goal of creativity should always be how authentically I express myself. If it makes me feel that I’ve successfully expressed myself, the creation’s done right from my end. And trust me, the right kind of souls will be attracted, nevertheless. Isn’t that the best appreciation? When the universe just floats through the like-minded energies and validates your creative expressions ? Yeah.


Photograph credit: Kinga Cichewicz at instagram.com/kinga_cich and https://unsplash.com/@all_who_wander

You know, mentally jumping with joy that I can finally find a quiet, lonely corner where I can “melancholise” whole-heartedly. Where tears can well up without embarrassment. If they want to swell up and roll out, I’ll have no panic attack sensation and will not need to urgently devise a fool-proof plan to very conspicuously wipe them clean. You know, when you finally decide to carry your phone to the washroom with a non-hurried attitude to pour it all out into an email to yourself. Because, if the email is not responded to by the hero, or villain, of your sorrows, or by your chosen confidante, it will be crushing and you can’t get sadder than “melancholy” now, can you?  You can’t ignore when your soul is hanging desperately from an imaginary curtain, kneeling and begging to be paid attention to, while your outer body pretends and forces itself to continue, without much success, in the daily hosh posh of things. That doesn’t work.

Me vs. “me”

Photograph credit: Emily Lau at instagram.com/2.08_e and https://unsplash.com/@emilylau

So how does this work? This part about not getting any attention? About not being pursued and attended to? How do you become used to not being pampered but be the one to pamper others instead? What do you do when you exhaust all tricks and dramatic ideas to attain some little temporary attention, all in vain? I drive away. No one calls. I turn my phone off and turn it on with shaking hands and a beating heart. The only message is that maybe someone is attending an event near me… I sit silently and far away for what to me seems like eons of hours which are actually a couple dozen of minutes. But no one comes to ask me how I’m doing. I have a bad day at work and retreat under my bed covers. Only to get tired of waiting and suppressing my hunger and re-appearing into the normal flow of the living room life; can’t help but notice how unnoticed all my absence has been. Doing this thing of being overly cold. Or overly bitter. Overly quiet. Or overly dramatic. At the bottom of it all, being overly sensitive. Expecting acknowledgments and praises, gratitudes and credits for pretty remarkable things that I do and also the not so remarkable things that I do. Resolution of a resolution to not be this loud at home, not be so persistent of my demands, to not be a reminder to everyone of every little task or every little health or good habit concern, to not care. Eventually giving in as they don’t invoke the kind of behaviour or words that would satisfy me. Or my ego? Which one is it? Is it me? Am I like this? Needing constant external reinforcements and reassurances confirming exactly what I believe myself to be? What is my ego? What am I made of? What’s the true me? What does the true me want, really? Why so extrinsically orientated instead of finding myself within? Wouldn’t I look down upon someone who would possess these behaviours? Hmmmm. So many questions. So little sunny days fuelling my solitary musing sessions to allow this thesis of a quest.


Photograph courtesy Nik MacMillan at instagram.com/nikarthur

Overall, though, I’m very scared. What if this happened? What if that didn’t happen? What if it didn’t work out? But, what if it did work out? What will I do then? How will I do that? What will happen? What happens next? It’s usually fear. Fear that I won’t achieve it. Fear that I’ll make a fool of myself. Fear that I will in fact achieve it and would not know how to handle the compliments or criticism or skepticism and so I’ll just throw in the towel at a safe, early enough, stage. Fear that I’ll not be happy if I don’t win. Fear of how magnificently I’ll act if I’m very close to achieving it and unsure if I’ll be able to own up to my desires and needs. It’s fear. One or the other kind. The excuses. Bitterness. Low confidence. This act of playing too “girl next door” or “down to earth”. Is misleading. Shine. Glow. Own up to your sparkle and glitter. Walk and dare to throw around that glare. Blind the passers by. Imagine the power of fearlessness. Unsheathed. Raw. Assertive. Sure. Prominent. Yeah.

Summer nights

Photograph courtesy Noah Silliman, who gives away free music as well as photos at twitter.com/noahsilliman

Living for these summer nights. Late night walks. Swings. Such a carefree perspective for those otherwise critical things such as a work day tomorrow or payment of the bills. An eagerness and courage to re-consider life. The ground-shaking questions to pose to self without batting an eyelid such as, should I quit work and travel ? Renewed yoga, meal prep, and mindfulness goals with no ounce of embarrassment from all the past failures. An anxious excitement for every weekend promising a short or not so short getaway. Extremely ambitious take on deep cleaning all the drawers and minimizing life by selling, donating, discarding. Actually being open to sacrificing sleep for movies and late night ice cream runs. Showers that range from cool to cold. Drenching in heavy summer rains (I, for sure, do this at least once per our painfully short but sinfully beautiful summer). Forgetting what boots, layering, and ear muffs mean. Always worrying for those flip flop feet gone dry and dirty. Living for these summers. Soaking in every ounce of the golden sun to stock up for the hibernating winters.

Talking to myself

Photograph courtesy: Hannah Olinger at hannaholingerphoto.com and https://unsplash.com/@hannaholinger

Make it loud and clear. Go for that bigger, unforgiving font if you want. Don’t use words such as “I think”, “as per my opinion”, “I feel”, and the likes. If you are saying it, you are meaning it. Those added accessories of words instil doubt in the listeners and make them question everything else you say or do. Express your needs and wants in assertive, clear words. Don’t say sorry before you ask what is rightly yours. Express your likes and dislikes, both. You don’t need to get disrespectful, aggressive, or defensive to express your disagreement. Go after what you want unrelentingly. Don’t make excuses. Learn to say no in a respectful, but firm manner. Saves a lot of time ;). If you truly are confused, only then ask someone’s opinion. If you notice that you ask for too many opinions and deep down want to hear what you want to hear, get into a habit of skipping the extra step of asking for the opinion in the first place. Don’t just open your mouth and repeat or echo back what the other person is saying, unless you mean it. Staying silent or expressing your perspective are always your options. Make decisions. Any decisions. Have faith that if things go south, you are completely capable of taking care of them. Truly few things are the end of the world. Step away from the situation, literally. Ya, take that walk in icy weathers or pouring rains, if you must. Makes you realize what minuscule bubble of a situation you’re dealing with when you come across homelessness and disabilities on the street. Makes you chuckle at yourself for building such a big mountain of your phantom troubles. Plan a little, roll a little. Too much of either is insane. You’ll know when to stop and plan or when to stop the plan. Don’t let work, words, and wants sit for too long. Crises happen when they go stale. Compliment without being asked but don’t criticize unless asked. Almost always goes well. Do that thing that’s been itching you….