**random thoughts**
(to) have the guts to
Tear my world asunder
see from beyond the plain
rise above the ashes
to see, to live, Again.
***
I’ve walked down this two-faced path many times over
drew a thousand constellations in space-time
played out a hundred couple iterations in the third order
sought questions only Chronos will answer
in the labyrinth of my mind.
***
What the freak is wrong with this blog?! It keeps on double-spacing.
Strange thing,
passion.
It had coursed through my veins
the fire of unlit gasoline
But
Now
the tank is e m p t y
and existential questions of worth and meaning
g n a w
where once zeal had burned
and I gnash my teeth at
Manunkind and the monster I’ve become.
Perhaps I really am like a
butterfly
I build wings
Not roots.
Flitting to a flower for its nectar
then leaving.
And so though the road not taken
Calls
I turn my back to the
thousand cries of Others
and yield
to the little voice
of Self.
Who are you?
Are you a Nobody, too?
***
The last two lines are from Emily Dickinson in I’m Nobody! Who are you? (288). Let us all respect intellectual property rights.
***
I made the above poem back in 2nd year college when I felt my creative juices running dry because the purpose seemed somehow buried in the avalanche of *shifting tendencies*, and just too many responsibilities. Maybe twas a matter of being stretched too thin… Anyhow, I’ve also come to realize that being the passionate/creative/artistic (?) achiever that I am, I have the capacity to take on challenges and can deliver some of my best work at crunch time. The key is to know when to recharge. And of course, to always work on/for something you damn believe in.
I have awakened from the most luxurious sleep.
Last night I dreamt I was in chocolate heaven. I moved in a daze between two long ivory rows of my ambrosia. Such sinful decadence, it was enough to make one weep. I was in rhapsody, I was in ecstasy, I was in paradise. Oh conquest of Cortés, how do I love thee? I delight in the airy lightness of your crepes, moistened with a dark rich sauce. I am in rapture over the paradox of your soufflé: fluffy in the inside and slightly crisp on the outside. I delight in your combination of fruit and fondue that give my tantalized taste buds a citrus-y respite. I savor the hidden virility of your Bailey’s: dark, brooding, and handsome. I revel in the heady sweetness of your cheesecake, the nutty delight of your brownies, the creamy coolness of your ice cream. But it was your truffles that I loved the best. I ate them sparingly, not daring to miss the nuance of every bite those dark, white, milk, and almond-flavored orbs of perfection afforded.
It was so real I can almost taste it still.
Only one thing more and it could’ve been ooh la la Chocolat… I was missing the liquid sombre eyes of Johnny Depp.
One of these days, I shall write an Ode to Theobroma Cacao.
***
While on the subject of dreams, I’d like to say thank you to my friends Berns, Aggie, Liz, Nikki, Mei-Anne, Paula, Arthur, and Roane Lou, for being the stuff that dreams are made of. Mwah!
Whispering, whirling
Immediate, inspiring
Nomadic, nestling
Does the ephemeral wind blow.
This should’ve been the first blog post. But as the wind moves freely, so shall I.
It’s not everyday that I feel so muddled. Last night was a time of emotional upheaval with two major realizations, each distinct yet somehow coinciding. First, I realized that sometimes, one just has to let things run their course. For no matter how much you’ve given, unless someone really puts himself in your shoes and tries to see things from your perspective, he’ll find it difficult to understand where you’re coming from. How can you meet each other halfway when you aren’t on the same road to begin with? It’s hard to see the end of a friendship, with all the wonderful possibilies - the comradeship, openess, and honesty - it could’ve brought. And what makes it even harder is the sinking realization that maybe, it ended that easily because it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.
I had to pass up today what might have been a defining experience in my life. Years from now, I hope I won’t look back with regret and wonder what could’ve been… What do you do when you feel like a great opportunity is slipping away, but because there are loose ends in your life you have yet to tie up, you have to let it go? I pride myself in my passion for something I do, particularly when I believe that what I am doing serves a worthy purpose. Mel Gibson in the filming of The Passion of the Christ defined ‘passion’ as ‘extreme love’. To go the lengths of this extreme love, I believe one has to be whole, with no strings attached that may impede one’s flight. And so it is with sadness and a little fear that I choose to let go, and let God.
More than the fact that both experiences occurred in just a span of a day, the thread that binds these two experiences is that one marked the beginning of the end, while the other, the end of what could’ve been a beginning.
***
The wind of the Sirocco is a warm, dry, tropical airmass that causes storms in the Mediterreanean, dusty and dry conditions in Africa, and cold, wet weather in Europe. It is believed that the corroding wind of a hot Sirocco may have depressing effects (www.encyclopedia.lockergnome.com). More than the pangs of negative feelings the previous day’s events have brought, I look back to the instance when a little Andalusian shepherd boy in Coelho’s the Alchemist discovered the tremendous power inside of him when he unleashed his own Sirocco. May I, too, discover my force.
***
