Monday, December 26, 2011

A walk to remember

I almost forgot what it was like…
How it felt…
And who I am...

It was Christmas day. All was busy, crowded and noisy, when suddenly I felt this suffocating pressure in my throat. Like a lump I just couldn’t swallow around. I wasn't really concerned for my health since I’m not allergic to anything. But once my chest felt heavy, and I began to pace from room to room as though searching for something unknown, I knew what was happening. I don’t believe I officially suffer from claustrophobia, but I can certainly recognize when a serious case of restlessness encloses around me. And this time was no different: I HAD to get out. Now, I find that putting off the inevitable will only lead to unhappy frustration, so when that ruthless impulse tugged at me, I grabbed the nearest coat and shoes, piled them on and walked out; barely giving myself time to snatch my ipod for some music.

Once facing the street, I put my headphones on, cued the music, lifted my head and set my feet off. I figured a little fresh air and some light exercise would satisfy my little claustrophobic problem for a while. And yet, as I walked, with no particular destination in mind, a series of bracing sensations began to build up. I felt light, I felt refreshed, I felt spirited, I felt good, I felt... free. And then, the most incredible thing happened… I remembered. I remembered everything that I had promised myself not to forget, I remembered all the things I believed in since I was little, I remembered the dreams I had wanted for myself, that I’d hoped so many times would come true. I felt myself almost bloom in that instant of reverie, while my feet marched on to nameless places and the bright setting sun lit the way for my musings. It was like drinking a cool glass of water after settling for un-quenching beverages. I felt ready to soar, like my wings were just stretching after being kept restrained for so long; when before, I hardly noticed how I’d shackled my freedom and how it was wilting before my very eyes.

It was… an incredible feeling, to remember. To remember ME, myself, the person I know breathes beneath these layers of the everyday lifestyle, roles, struggles, distractions, tests and hardships. For that long short moment in time, I found myself. I remembered how I used to laugh at my own jokes, I remembered how I’d imagine at least ten impossible things each day, I remembered how I howled at the full moon when no one was looking, I remembered how I’d lay under the stars and tried to count each one, I remembered how I’d climb to the rooftop of my house to see the sunsets, I remember how I would run for no reason other than to feel free… I remember.

Perhaps it sounds contradictory to believe that one can be lost, yet not missing at the same time. But it CAN happen. It did to me. I might not have been at risk of transforming into this unidentifiable robot, yet it could have easily appeared that way. It certainly felt that way when I walked straight into this beautiful wall of enlightenment. Instead of being blinded by trivial details I was able to see myself again, the way I used to.

I think I’ll be going on long walks more often...

By: V.S

Monday, December 19, 2011

No excuses from me

Can someone come back from a long string of silence? Is there a quick way to explain how so many things have come about in so little time? Should I even attempt to compose a formal manner to excuse myself from my writing duties as a self-acclaimed love-writer (meaning I love to write)? I’ll take a giant leaping guess here and say the answer to all of these questions is: not likely.

- “Your love for writing shouldn’t be hindered by anything”, my heart speaks out.
- “Well, she’s had a lot on her mind”, my mind replies defensively.

- “What kind of cheap excuse is that? Everyday there’s something on her mind. Does that mean she can’t write and think at the same time?” my heart demands.
- “No. I’m simply saying that the poor woman has gone through some life-altering steps and that’s not something you can set aside, that you can just pretend to ignore for the sake of dabbling in the written word.”

- “Is the poor woman dying?” my heart asks skeptically, knowing the answer to the question.
- With a frown, my mind responds, “No.”

- “Then what should possibly keep this woman from doing something she loves; something she once swore was her calling; something she claimed she couldn’t live without, something she assures anyone, she will continue doing even if her passion goes unrecognized… unless of course, her hands and fingers have been torn off by a bloodthirsty mobster with a hunger for amateur writers,” my heart remarks, unaffectedly.
- “You’re a lot less pleasant than your name implies… I mean, isn’t the heart supposed to be kinder, sympathetic, polite?” my mind observes in horrified surprise.

- “Just because I’m the heart, doesn’t mean I’m blind to the truth. Me being the heart means, I know what she really wants and what she’s afraid of. And you, the mind, are the one that keeps her from doing what she aspires most to accomplish. You distract her to no end, you always have. You make her doubt, you make her think everything can wait, you make her give up the now for later.”
- “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Isn’t that just like a heart, to deny when you’ve failed her. If she’s so passionate about writing, then nothing would keep her from it, right? You, the heart, would lead the way, right? Then where have you been? Why have you left her, without a light, without a leader, without direction? I may have kept her head full of distracting events and diverting uncertainties and confusing perspectives, but YOU, her heart, should have been able to override all of it. Am I right?” my mind questions baldly, confident it turned the tables nicely.

- After a moment of silence, my heart admits sadly, “I think… we’ve both failed her. When she needed us most, you blinded her with conflicting thoughts, and I bombarded her with conflicting emotions.”
- My mind, surprised again at the turn of the conversation, takes a second to consider such words. Then, with a wicked gleam, says, “I think… we may get away with blaming her soul. It doesn’t really do much, just lies there all day. Why not let someone else take the hit for this one? We are supposed to be a team.”

- My heart speaks disapprovingly, “That’s a horrible idea. No, I believe she’s reached that point where she feels like she has no where to turn. And we’ve allowed her to get to that despairing state. It’s time. It’s now. We give her back her ambition and her love, without pretense, without delay, without excuses.”
- Sighing heavily, my mind nods. “Alright. What happens if we’re not enough? What if she doesn’t get to the horizon or soars higher than the clouds or goes to infinity and beyond? What then?”

- “We try harder. We give her the drive, the hunger, the fight, the blood to go after what she’s always believed in. And we never stop,” my heart promises fiercely.
- With a reluctant smile, my mind teases, “You know, you’re starting to sound a lot more like yourself. It suits you.”

By: V.S

Thursday, June 16, 2011

A night of reflection

I walk outside to face the cold lonely night,
Lonely, for it is still and silent and bared of life,
Like an empty picture staring through its frame.

A full moon lights up the sky,
Chasing away some of the shadows in my mind,
Like a torch snuffing out the darkness.

The cold offers little comfort except the memory of warmer times,
It seems as if I’m always trying to remember now,
Like a child afraid to age, afraid to forget.

I find myself almost dreading these barren dark hours,
A time when I cannot hide, especially from myself,
Like a mirror that tells only the truth of its reflection.

The moonlight falls through the night so clearly
The struggle to face my most basic hopes and fears is revealed,
Like a rainstorm that washes away the grime and promises redemption.

By: V.S

Saturday, May 7, 2011

“Phenomenal Mother… that’s you.”

Many people ponder where your secret lies,
For you seem to have been born to be a mother with strong ties.
They ask how you can possibly do what you do,
Day in and day out you slave over what was blessed upon you.
Being a mother leaves one marveling at the many changes in life,
But many others still wonder how you take your job in stride.

I try to tell them,
It’s all in the reach of your arms,
That never seem to tire as you catch me when I fall.
I try to point out,
It’s all in the curl of your smile,
That seems to forgive my many faults and trials.
I try to explain,
It’s all in the care in your eyes,
That seem to look at me as if I were a gift in disguise.
I try to make them see,
It’s all in the love in your heart,
That forever seems to reach for me.

But they just don’t seem to understand,
What your infinite patience,
And endless sacrifices lead you to be.

A phenomenal mother, that’s what you are,
A phenomenal mother, it’s what you do,
A phenomenal mother, that’s you.

By: V.S

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Diary of a Newly Wedded Woman

On the road to somewhere

Somewhere... somewhere unknown, or so it seems. The reality of my life now begins to break through my composure. I am no longer who I was. Yes, I agree, it's nothing so dramatic as losing my identity. I am still how I was, yet not the same. Facing situations I'd never had before, confronting myself through each experience, figuring out my emotions and thoughts under such occurring as I'd never had a chance to do on a previous occasion. The change I'd awaited for so long to arrive is solidifying before my very eyes... quite rapidly! I feel as if I should be torn between my past and my present, between what I used to be and my new roles in life. The world seems to be spinning faster than ever before, and I'm somewhere in it, holding on by my fingernails. And yet, even though I may be incredulous most of the time and my fears may get the better of me in all the other instances... I can't force myself to be alarmed. I'm on the road to somewhere, there will always be a realm of possible outcomes ready to jump out, good ones as well as bad ones. So, I think to myself: somewhere... my guess? I'm on the road to living, to moving beyond the happy ending in fairy tales, to learning and being shaped by the choices, actions, lessons and experiences my life will now have to offer.

By: V.S

Saturday, January 15, 2011

What it takes to hope

I hold my breath and I close my eyes,
Struggling to hold on to this blissful feeling
And stay true to my heart’s wishes,
But all my attempts flail under the heavy hand of reality

Against the glare of civilization I am left bare and vulnerable
Denied the solace to dream
I am urged into the gray barrenness of indifference,
And sunk under the insistence of self-discipline

Threatened to be uncovered and branded as unacceptable,
I withdraw into myself
Not for comfort nor relief,
But because I find no welcome anywhere else,

Afraid to want, I step back
Afraid to become a slave to my desires, I refrain from voicing them
Afraid to be shackled by the obsession of my yearnings, I’m ruled by guilt for owning them
Afraid to reach beyond the surface, my will grows frail with obedience...

But in the furthest recesses of my heart,
Omitted from society’s oppressing pessimism
A flicker of hope rises with unexpected force
Enlightening my adventurous soul against the tide of reason,

The rich exotic taste of hope instantly lights the suffocating darkness,
consuming the brutal emptiness that threatened to envelop me
Until I feel my breath catch
And my heart skip with untamable joy,

with a vengeful rush, my blood surges
my body resurrects with the gift of existence
through a drowning fracture of sensation I am abruptly freed from a nation’s parameters,
and given the chance to experience, to desire, to dream

I feel myself grow stronger with the power of belief
A shaky smile graces my lips,
as I’m revived by the fire of life
Touched, I come awake from the treacherous grip of submission

I breathe and laugh aloud
and feel my heart soar so high I will never know another heavenly moment like it
lifted from the clawing shadows of self-doubt and fear,
I fly without remorse, with the strength to carry on in my freedom to hope

By: V.S

Monday, January 10, 2011

A high priced craving

The lust for money is a treacherous gamble; it is deceptive in its simplicity to draw you close and risky as it can poison you with greed. It may call to us, in disguise as the answer to all our problems, but under closer study, it is merely the source of many of our troubles…

Money can hand you the world, yet you’d still be empty handed.
The promise of possession is a powerful drug, strong enough to blind you from the fortunes you already have and illusory enough to deceive yourself into thinking it’s what you really want.

Money can endow you with riches, yet you’d still have nothing.
Expecting to receive the universe upon its knees, yet few things can please you from within, until you realize that having so much can mean having so little in return.

Money can give you the keys to many doors, yet you’d still feel locked out.
So many opportunities are open to you, you can go anywhere and be everywhere, but standing where you thought you wanted to be can feel like being nowhere at all.

Under the illusion of being superior to others because of your wealth runs a pricey risk of loosing your true self to the superficial façade of fortune and fame...

By: V.S