mind’s eye

A deep slumber, is not necessarily a restful one. Eyelids, warm and soft; slip into silence. There is the cricketing of night insects; mild but wild. drips of moisture, hitting the tin roof at unsettling intervals.

The night body, stores beyond a day’s worth of weight. Both mind and body alike, are known for their abilities to store and hoard. Latching it’s grip unto any memory the mind subconsciously hurls towards it. In a similar manner, our physical bodies, store energy and fluids – these of which, are advantageous to ourselves. Furthermore, this process is a necessary biological compulsion.

I am intrigued with how the human mind processes thought and memory. The connection between how a singular thought is translated and stored in our memory box, has baffled me for the longest time. Despite reading up on the medical scientific explanations behind this, I am certain there are more empathetic views on these theories.

Our minds, are such powerful tools for transformation.

In future writings, I hope to reflect more upon these issues. While referencing incidents from daily living. Perhaps, reawakening myself to the fragility of memory, in time and space.

lessons from the sky

the night before last, the skies embraced evening in a peculiar manner. there was not a gradual gradient to be seen, of light slipping under the covers of musky clouds. the disappearance was sudden; like a flash of lightning before our eyes. it was here, and then it was gone. perhaps it did not take place when we were looking. maybe in between the blink of an eye, the setting found a swift pace. hence it’s mode of vanishing was all the more made, unexpected.

the sea of sky above me, veiled with deep tones of navy. shifting into darker hues tinted indigo, clouds brushed against one another; with a certain wonder and gentleness i wished to attain. reflecting upon their passing. rolling by ever so slowly but nonetheless; moving.

in this journey of continuous learning and growing; there are ways in which these lessons find us, and too, how we seek them out. it is often very difficult, to remain aware and present; realizing that each passing moment does in fact, want to share their stories with us. what makes us difficult to relate, is perhaps our stance in all of this. it isn’t at all logical to compare a human being with the natural force of nature, is it? Sensibly speaking, it isn’t at all. but here’s just a fraction of what i think, tonight…

I think, there is an intention for the things placed before us. what we observe, why we bear witness to these incidence;  why they find the right to ingrain themselves within our thoughts – there is a purpose, and i don’t suppose these are whisked into existence upon mere coincidence.

perhaps at times, it is because we find a missing bit of ourselves, within these occurrences.

ps: more shall be explored on this in coming writings…

embracing sharp edges

How, does one commit entirely to an attempt at holding true to oneself?

Is one required to possess certain traits, or maintain a character made of steel – an empathetic heart, and giving ear, compassionate all year round, no matter the season. call me a cynic, but – who am i kidding here?

Our concept of perfection is simply an idealistic one. Perfection is an illusion, we’re fixated on achieving. It’s a path, we feel we’re damned to tread. Building barriers while pressing of specific characteristics an ideal person must encompass.

We are difficult and hard on ourselves; and others. Constructing often unreasonable pedestals; building hope and misunderstood expectations upon situations and circumstance. We believe, in order to be joy giving, hope bearing, one must be free from any gut-wrenching negativity. We deceive ourselves into believing, we need to be completely pure. void of misery, in fear it will breed like wildfire; one we have no way of putting out.

While we yearn to be surrounded by good will and fairy dust – yet none of us truly are; not all the time at least. Not beyond closed doors, nor under our doonas where be hide, afraid of judgment and criticism. We can’t possibly be, all rounders, with our edges filed down from causing any hurt. and that is what humanity is. Perhaps, even what being human is essentially about.

The dark and gritty corners, no fingers wish to graze. The rough, uneven patches of wet gravel. These wounds, brimming with yellow-green pus, and itching with dried scabs flaking upon any physical contact.

It is vulnerability, and openness.

No matter how crooked, awkward or unconventionally flawed.


with the passing of tumbled daylight, the body seeks only the steady shifting of stillness. quiet movements, weaved into functional actions. filling of the water pot, flicking on the light switch, stretching the spine, gliding of calves on cold sheets. there is little desire for actions, too strenuous and unnecessary.

the belly, is satisfied not from food of comfort, but from the filling of it’s capacity – just sufficient. it sits in a weighted state, as air occupies certain parts where day’s liquid rumbles like tiny pebbles tumbling. the joints of arms, and limbs of feet will do what it’s told, as the mind heaves itself into bubbling thought.

the mind, is fatigued. having not received enough rest, shrouded with the darting of emotions at every angle of the day. among all it’s fellows, it has taken the harshest of beatings. In moments of actual bliss, uncertainty occupies the farthest corner of the mind. with crossed arms and an uneasy disposition, it probes mind for answers, explanations – ultimately; attention. Settling gleefully with uncertainty, are his eternal companions – doubt, and fear. How often they have each been mistaken for the other. They’re clothed in similar costumes, making their resemblance uncanny. How are any of us, supposed to tell the difference?

In the presence of uncertainty, doubt and fear – the possibility of hope and self-awareness is feasibly bleak and unlikely. This is what knowledge tells us; that fear and hope are unable to exist next to one another. It is either one, or the other under any circumstance. Like oil and water, they must remain separate – two completely opposite impulses. But are they really?

This probes an investigation into the existing relationship between light and darkness.

Allow me to gather my thoughts and reflections before delving further into this topic, which i am both excited and slightly uncertain about exploring. but tonight, this is writing for me; as it has always been. this opportunity to string letters into words and find a space deeper within myself in reflecting upon these tangible thoughts.

blind judgment

We human beings, are wired in such a way that compels us to draw comparisons between ourselves and others. This has constructed what appears to be a reflex, upon brief observations of another. What stirs within us at first, is a mild and almost harmless judgment. This is swept within towards internal grounds, it’s presence known to no one else but that chatter within our head. Judgement, of any kind – be it of a superficial nature or one with more complex knowing; seldom keeps it’s initial shape in tact. It regulates it’s form and refines it’s presence each time we probe it for opinion.

The loom of judgement is never too distant, always lingering close to us. Judgement seeks to deceive us into believing what we think of others or ourselves, is accurate. We take what we see, as what we know to be gospel truth and place all importance into it. Dismissing all possibility that what meets the eye, is really only skimming the surface of a deep and murky lake.

Most times, of course – one cannot help but bring themselves to judge a book by it’s cover. It is after all, an inclination humans have towards the attraction towards aesthetics and outer appearances – however made. The same way, if we see a dark finned creature lurking beneath the ocean waves – we avoid it and fee from sea to sand, water to soil.

What we do with this judgement, when we have it in our hands – is something else altogether. Do we turn our focus towards nurturing a negative state of judgement? Or do we make conscious choice is leading it into a positive effect that stimulates growth and learning?

Judgement is not always understanding, or even taking a step back and viewing the bigger picture. Most times it isn’t.

It is a responsive action, habitual and so, so human.

It casts us to a position of uncertainty about ourselves. While also positioning us to think we know the darkness of a stranger’s life by the colour of their eyes.

It is a dangerous thing, Judgement.

We can only be wary with how our hands mangle it and how our mind will manipulate the first edition it receives.

We are as entitled to it, as we are right to take deep breaths, swim in the ocean at dark and stay up counting stars and sheep. But as most things beautiful and wild; treat it with gentleness and caution. Embrace it’s lightness when it is; so that we may be able to live through the heaviness of it.

Pema Chodro

We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells, bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea.

– Pema Chodro

blue calm

Calm is blue. Calm is a slow sigh, one without a pause. it’s smooth continuity, dismissing all hesitation. It is knowing, or sometimes not stretching your space within the oblivion square.

To remain calm, is projected as a state of better being. Eradicating repressing thoughts, seeking to arouse tension and anxiety. It is at most times, an enlightened presence, while still existing most physically and presently within this life.

Calm is tugging gently, and then letting loose strings unwind themselves into a soft release. It is a gentle reminder to develop a keen ability to discern. It is a white whisper, reaching into the intrepid thoughts between our knowing and apprehension.


cleaner slate

Despite the many self conflicts, raging within me – there is a growing light. Hidden between distractions I’ve poured myself into, these affiliations ground me in times of dire distress. It is a working list, unceasing to any given date or time – the same way we all are. Just tiny projects, all in progress. Littered across the world, different continents and circumstance but nonetheless all connected in this journey. I am abruptly reminded of these things, in moments of turmoil and darkness. In periods of mild joy, how quick I am to disconnect myself from these foundations, on which my life’s work could be based on.

I forget life is good, when it is. Conjuring methods to improve, fix, reiterate, and change a negative circumstance. Completely obliterating the present moment – the gift of sight, the movement of limbs, an ability to listen, to think, to choose. Your breath. Your still, beating heart. Resting amidst this internal disarray.

It won’t be another day – not for another 10 or so hours. This is another moment you have. A slate, though stained with last night’s grief and such loss. This is the slate you get, So build what you may from it.

Mold it, shape it, wreck it, refine it, buff it up, shatter it –

Do what you will with it, but always, always -make what you can of it.

spirit’s breath

We ingest what we hope to digest. Without much thought for a filter, absorbing the most mutilated of opinions upon ourselves. Gulping down a swallow, like medicine with a strong drink. Our eyes, half capped with blue veins peeking from beneath thin films of skin.Too afraid to open our eyes fully, yet too uncertain to shut them tight without knowing, for certain if…

Us humans, borne of instinctual attraction to the betterment of our aesthetics. We slip carelessly, in and out of an outward spiral. Prancing about in a frilly dress, and glamoured shoes all glittery and rich. Our faces, pulled and plucked into positions to enhance our given traits. Flock ourselves into large sheets of ambition, mistaken for direction. We confuse wealth for success and find our legs, hiking up shaky ladders, built on corruption.

Thrown of balance, aware of our short sightedness we try again. Choosing the same choices, shaking off our nodding conscience. We, so able and more than capable of invention and theory – are such slaves to our thoughts.

What have you consciously chosen to breathe in, today? What have you unconsciously taken into your being, today? Every moment, you have an opportunity to release what falters your spirit.

You may breathe out now.