Friday, 30 October 2015

We grow through solitude

"It is difficult today to leave one's friends and family and deliberately practice the art of solitude, for an hour or a day or a week. And yet, when it is done, I find there is a quality of being alone that is incredibly precious. Life rushes back into the void, richer, more vivid, fuller than before...

It is not physical solitude that actually separates one from other men, not physical isolation, but spiritual isolation. It is not the desert island nor the stony wilderness that cuts you from the people you love. It is the wilderness of the mind, the desert wastes in the heart through which one wanders lost and a stranger. When one is a stranger to oneself then one cannot touch others. How often, in a large city, shaking hands with my friends, I have felt the wilderness stretching between us. Both of us were wandering in arid wastes, having lost the springs that nourished us-or having found them dry.

Only when one is connected to one's own core is one connected to others, I am beginning to discover. And for me, the core, the inner spring, can best be re-found through solitude."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift From the Sea.


- - -

I wrote a post here on 25 September 2013, hesitating to share a meaningful letter. I didn't share it. I had my reasons back then. But recently things have changed around me and within me. I have my own new reasons now. So I'll share.

1) Pardon the grammar (RIP english).

2) Please feel free to laugh at some of the naive things I wrote. I know I laughed.

3) After writing this letter, we had a competitive beach run. There were other better runners. All I thought about during the run was the letter.

4) If you are feeling distracted, please don't read it. Thank you.

->  Letter from a Friend

Thursday, 29 October 2015

Believe in His gentle guidance


Yesterday, the morning rain was extremely different, in a very good way.

This morning, for the first time in a long while, I noticed a clear, blue sky.

Friday, 23 October 2015

Saturday, 17 October 2015

Mitsuya Tasty Biscuit Stick

When I was 4 or 5, my dad taught me how to use the CD player underneath our TV. That player is connected to the surround system in the hall. I remember being engrossed with this song collection album called 'Slow Rock Golden Hits', which I used to pronounce as 'slow rock golden heights'. 15 beautiful songs.

I vividly recall sitting cross-legged in front of the player, listening to a handful of songs repeatedly. I didn't understand a thing back then but I kept replaying those songs.

This was one of the them.


Tuesday, 13 October 2015

1437

I'm surrounded by the best of people. But I feel so alone. It really doesn't make sense. Something which I'm not foreign to, but as of lately, I have difficulty being comfortable with that.

I believe there is hidden arrogance in my heart.

Sunday, 11 October 2015

Lagu Zaman

Bagai sirih pulang dalam gagang, seri cemerlang
Bukanlah sebarang siapa jua boleh menyanyikan

Hamba pun menumpang sama menyanyikan
Lagu zaman, yang berzaman
Lagu lama dengan rasa
Cara kita orang timur

Monday, 5 October 2015

Hand to Heart

Sometimes we forget what we believed in, and other times, we forget what we believe in.

Saturday, 3 October 2015

Optima

If I had to swim across the toughest sea, and at the same time fight a shark biting my leg, and steady my rifle to shoot the pilot of a warplane high up in the sky (note I'm still in the waters), and find out that the shark was actually a fake costume and inside it was Muhammad Ali in his prime challenging me to the full 12 rounds, and get activated for seven burning hospital buildings with bed-ridden patients, and get yelled at by someone trying to read his morning papers (Now I feel like saving my bullet for him instead), and be bugged down by important questions of life like what to eat for dinner, and be knocked out by Ali in the first five seconds only to find out afterwards that he accidentally sneezed and didn't touch me at all and kind of want to have a rematch with me because he thought I was giving him chance and then during the rematch I got curious and asked him what's his favourite colour and why but he replied with I don't know bro and because of that I got angry and suddenly felt like invading Poland, but oh crap I shot a fish instead of the pilot so oh wells that's my dinner, and ohmygoodness I left the stove on at home...

I'd listen to this song.

Thursday, 1 October 2015

The loudest book on the shelf is the one with an empty cover

Most, if not all, books are visually enveloped with strategic designs.

Most, if not all, libraries observe the 'Quiet' rule.

Yes, no wonder.

Sunday, 27 September 2015

Have you been to this place?

Is there a place in reality where we can be selfish and selfless at the same time? Where sincerity has no cost. Where thinking of lies can expose the truth for us. Where courage can exist in the form of cowardice. Where those who speak, without lowering their eyes, know nothing.

Let me know.

Tuesday, 22 September 2015

Existential crisis: I think I'm a plant

In my efforts to understand the rain, I lost track of the difference between a drizzle and a downpour.

Beautiful.

How little I understand about the rain.

Monday, 14 September 2015

"Verily, adversity has befallen me"

The process of being blessed with patience will never be easy.

How can I forget? I should be thankful.

Wednesday, 9 September 2015

You were who you were. You are who you are.

The Narrow Road to the Deep North. It is a beautiful piece of written art.
In the final pages, it quoted an excerpt from Ulysses -

And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star

Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more.

Thursday, 27 August 2015

Frameless

Paint me a faint rainbow, if you know,
Mellow eyes descend for common ground.

Paint the spirit of gray, if you may,
Only silence fathoms a quiet crown.

Paint me a gentle breeze, if you please,
Nothing but tenderness roots me down.

Paint my colours of teal, if you will,
Still this heart scurries for shade in brown.

But,
Must,
Trust,
Just...

Just paint. Oh, naive roses of burgundy!
A frameless piece will always be found.

Thursday, 16 July 2015

Moonless nights

Oh sweet-toothed society.

Don't let the ants crawl onto our black stones.