The Time of a Sentence

We meet people.

At times for the length of a sentence. Others cross our path for longer.

Although the metric of time is not the factor of impact.

A singular smile can initiate a foundation for a significant construction in our lives.

In Hong Kong, I shared a beautiful moment in my hostel.

In a dormitory of four, I had to my left a profound snorer.

The sound kept all other three of us awake.

We laughed, and decided to chat instead.

The day before, I couldn’t tell you their names.

But here we were, in the late hours of night,

laughing, talking about our lives,

and building a familiar space for ourselves.

I felt like I was with a new pair of siblings.

One night, the guy on the top bunk of our bed and I started chatting.

Topics ranged from families to narratives we are trying to change for ourselves.

Mine is redefining my relationship with the sense of touch.

One I’ve built to associate with an undertone of pain.

I have a misconception that people couldn’t truly see me and hold me with love.

But rather that their actions would be dictated by lust.

This has built a fear and a barrier on my end,

causing me to be avoidant of physical affection,

even in very minimal ways, such as holding hands.

I am meditating, and feeling this avoidant coping mechanism.

Allowing my body to truly see that it does not serve me.

I am reclaiming my right to set my own boundaries with my body,

without guilt of external deception.

I am ready to rediscover simple physical touch,

instead of living in the illusion that removing it from my life protects me.

The belief that I do not need a hug

has only kept me distant from something deeply human.

Knowing that this is something I am changing

feels heartwarming.

It feels incredible.

There is so much power in holding space

for change,

for growth,

for softness to return.

March 23rd — Morning Stroll in Nara, Japan

March 23rd — Nara, Japan

March 23rd consisted of an early morning stroll.

One where I could listen to the deep sleep of the people. A moment to move through the restfulness of the city, slowly, gently, feeling the state of my body. The awareness of the knots coiled in my hips, an ancient archive of emotion. I took the time to stretch through them.

With each breath and movement, I could consciously feel and welcome vitality.

At the temple, I prayed. Candles were lit all around me, blessed by the power of fire during a time when clarity and crispness prevailed, gently rising from the lingering hush of the night. This act was a thoughtful gesture from a citizen of the world, for whom I am deeply grateful.

As I reached the park, I took the time to sing to the hundreds of deer I was surrounded by. Some tilted their heads, some bowed. Others remained uninterested and some asleep.

The sensory experience was pronounced. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms intertwined with the air. The gradual progression of lighting and colours drawn across the sky. The touch of the wind and the temperature rising in synchronicity with the sun. The sound of crows, of bells, and the street lights mimicking birds with either cuckoo or piyo sounds.

I was the only human in sight, but I did not come close to stroking the chord of loneliness.

Life, thank you for giving me the guidance to witness us in all our beauty.

Madame Youth

Under every adult, there is a child.

A child that's sometimes set aside, waiting patiently for the right moment to be called back, to be held with tenderness, and allowed to hum at its own true frequency.

It longs to feel, not to reason; to dissolve the masks we wear. The ego, so carefully dressed in reason, slips away in the presence of surrender.

To feel is to unveil the truth. The perfection within us quiets the fears that seek to smother our authenticity.

Truth us not only found in grand gestures, but in the quiet moments we share with the world.

We are all children of this vast universe, each of us a ripple in the great expanse of circular evolution. Never a moment better than the other.

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