my heart is shouting || i can't mute it out

 

but i'd rather be deafened by it than be without

the pounding of the drums

in my inside parade

will make my ears bleed

i can not dissuade 

the music from playing

the beings marching out

i cut myself open

to see what it's about

it's a festival for me

my worlds have been hiding

for oh, so very long

and now they are emerging

starting with a parade

a startling stampede

the banging and crashing

makes me fall from my feet

everything's in disarray

but at least i'm coming out

i'd rather burst out open

than be stitched together by doubt

Read Yourself Like a Beautiful Book

Etched on your skin

Is a long story

Wrinkles of laughter

Freckles of time in the sun

Stretchmarks of expansion and contraction

And every change in between

Your skin is lined and dotted

With evidence of your existing

In many stories and places

Many still to come

I hope you never want to erase yourself

Though you may choose some of the writing

I hope instead of scratches of anger,

You choose ink, color, even piercings of healing

I hope you celebrate the canvas that you are

I hope the lines, the marks, and even the scars

Let you see yourself as a sacred book

One of many, but the only one of itself.

You are a work of art.

July 28 2020

Sitting Duck (poem)

living in a cage called Psychological Time

I run away from a familiar feeling:

anxious heartbeats, sounding inside

like footsteps behind me, running.

knitting lists from an unraveling mind

until all they are are identical rows

meaningless squiggles, constant warnings

of failures only the future knows

clearing out big spaces of time

to let the work catch up on crutches

brain jumping onto parallel planes

the clock doesn't stop, but watches.

waking up near the bottom of the lake

after dreaming about struggling on the surface

a desperate hope for diamonds to form

from the chances that slipped into the furnace

🛫expanding the target🎯

there will be times where it will feel like

you're jumping off
                               a
                                   c
                                     l
                                      i
                                       f
                                        f

towards a --------------->   tiny target   <-------------------


and so it'll feel like it means E V E R Y T H I N G to you,

like it was somehow so very...
dense



in that, it's    so    very  
                                           small,       so         very     
                                                                                                            far,    so     very    hard   to   nail

but

weighed 

so, 

so 

MUCH.

and there's just this formidable nothingness

surrounding it

enveloping it and

threatening your life

and the more you look at it

the harder it is to look away

and more and more you feel like

there is no way

that you wouldn't fail

that you wouldn't miss

that you wouldn't just

go back to nothing


And when that nothingness threatens you
I hope you remember

That nothing doesn't have to be nothing
you can fill all that space with
a whole bunch of somethings

And those whole bunch of somethings
can turn into   c                                                    o                                                       w      s    .         .
                             l      o        d     s,               s          f                   p      i               o                        .
                                          u                                            t                         l    l


on which,

                 if you fail,

                                  (and we're still hoping that you won't)



                                              you can softly,



                                                          gently,




                                                                 land



                                                                  (even if it's with tears in your eyes)


                                                                           so that instead of s h a t t e r i n g

                                                                                you can simply find your feet

                                                                                    dust yourself off
                                                                                             get back up
                                                                                                                and walk over

to something  new.         

You are not a fantasy. You are an experience.

Don't look at mirrors to find your worth

You were not born to be

eternally striving

to be easier to look at

Your eyes were meant to look

asymmetrical

and outward, into the world

to find things that give you life

Your knees needn't be smooth

to prop you up

into greater heights

and bruise and bleed

into greater strength

Your body was not meant

to be stuffed into tight spaces

and to be hidden in the dark

to stay porcelain, and unexposed, and brittle

You were meant to move,

to laugh with your mouth open

to love with eyes intent

and not looking down on your feet

Let us be with you

through the spilling of your soul

let any image of you fall to the wayside

of the life you live

Just something I'm writing to myself, (and people like me) for those dark moments where I feel ugly, ungraceful, awkward and unlikeable, and needing to clam up, hide, and basically cease to be in the presence of people I want to befriend but find intimidating because I feel bad about myself. Or those times where I feel bad for having dirty nails and unkempt hair because I've been busy and too tired to fuss over myself more. I'm slowly finding out that: 1. Creating something is more valuable than how you look while making it, get your hands dirty! who cares. & 2. Warmth is usually very contagious and the world has more kindness to give if you're only able to be more open to receive it.

The Mind is Always a Step Ahead.

There is an Icelandic word called "Lifspeki",
which means ‘The practical philosophy by which one lives one’s life’.

Not a philosophy one believes; nor a philosophy one aspires to live by.

Not a state of mind. A state of being.

I wrote about the feeling of being split in half in this regard, and it made me think of the concept of daemons in Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials book series, the first book set that Beardy gifted me. In the world of the protagonist Lyra, one's inner self is animated and projected through a daemon - a being that takes an animal form. In our world, it is assumed that our daemons are already inside us. But it does not necessarily mean, I guess, that we are more united within than a person from Lyra's world - because they are made aware of the disconnect and have more opportunities to work it out, while we are estranged to the fact that parts of us may contradict each other.

I think harmony between my philosophies/thoughts and actions is the highest thing I can ever aspire to in life.

My thoughts and actions are friends.

They do not seem to be one and the same.

My thoughts run around, and have the ability of flight. They can be free, unbounded, and can be in more than one place at a time.

My actions are creatures of the earth. Bound by the ground I step on. Always lagging at least a little bit behind.

They are the best of friends. At least they try to be.

But they often leave each other behind.

They can move in different speeds, not always forward, and they tend to get each other lost.

My thoughts tend do throw themselves up as if the stars are calling them by name when my actions can barely lift feet off the mud.

And so sometimes it feels like they part.

My mind can live in a completely separate plane from my actions, feeling free and wild like fire,

But the whole of me lives on Earth, where only My Actions matter.

And so the whole of me stays troubled.

A human without their daemon.

My Actions, not My Thoughts, allow me to connect with others, and to change reality.

My thoughts to my actions are what souls supposedly are to bodies.

Without a body, a soul is just a ghost. Unable to speak, to hold, to connect. Its existence questionable.

And without a soul, supposedly, a body is lifeless.

When my actions don't match my thoughts, what becomes of me then?

A thoughtful ghost.

A lifeless drone.

One piece at first glance, but two incomplete halves in any other angle.

My mind will always be a step ahead. 

But it needs to let My Actions catch up, hold its hand, so it can 

at the very least

follow closely by.

When to Listen to Envy

The last time I remember being intensely envious was when I found the instagram feed of someone I briefly knew from childhood. She now has a big following for being a beauty/lifestyle/fitness online personality. I remember looking at her abs, feeling a sense of envy slowly radiate through me, but I couldn't stop looking at the pictures. And then I ended up doing something I've raaaaaaarely done in my life.

I put my sneakers on, and ran outside.

I ran and ran, until my thighs were too itchy from the sudden rush of blood to my capillaries, something they're not used to. I went back home, still in the same doughy body, but somehow, I felt a lot better.

Now, I'm still no runner (I still prefer forms of exercise that don't make my jiggly bits bounce around like they want to leave my body) but when I think back to that memory, I remember it fondly. 

Isn't that odd? 

Envy isn't something we think of as a positive thing, yet it can unlock things that are otherwise inaccessible to us when we are complacent and content.

The trick is to accept envy, and to not stop there.

Think of envy as that stretch of road in a different city from where your final destination is, that welcomes you and then says goodbye because where you ultimately need to be is somewhere farther along the road.

There's someplace else you gotta be, but sometimes you just have to pass it by to get there.

What is there to see in that stretch of road? What redeeming factor could a crappy feeling like envy possibly have? 

It bares your own deep-seated desires in front of you. It lets you know yourself better, and possibly point you towards what you need to do next.

I remember this memory fondly because that's the turning point for me when it came to my relationship with envy. It ultimately transformed it from an unhealthy source of self-loathing, to a tool I now use to point myself to parts of myself that might need more attention.

Nowadays, when I feel myself get envious of someone, I:

1. Stop, acknowledge, and welcome the envy. "Hi, yes envy. You are here because I saw someone really fit on Instagram and I feel like a lazy slob."
2. Ask myself what part of the thing I just witnessed roused desire (/covetousness) in me and why. "Possibly I'd like to be healthier. Possibly I want to look as good in clothes! Probably both of those things."
3. And finally, I ask myself if there is realistically anything I could do now, or soon, that could make me come closer to that thing's realisation in my own life. "Ideally, I'd exercise and eat as healthy as she does! But I know myself; I'm a lot more laid-back and cannot be bothered to be so strict with myself. Simply taking care of my health a little more would probably be enough. Maybe I should go for a run right now, just to get some exercise."

After that, any sort of bitterness I might have towards the person just goes away, or gets replaced by appreciating, and then excitement and motivation for my own life. I have to say though, a lot of the time now, I bypass the bitterness altogether and get straight to appreciatin'. 

Here's a simple example of the sort of mental process that goes on:

"Ugh. He draws SO WELL! What makes it so awesome? Oh yeah the way it looks so effortless. I should practice more. I'm glad to have this guy on my feed. So inspiring."

I try hard to stop myself from self-depreciation, and lately I haven't been needing to try very hard: it's started to come more naturally to me, and it's really very nice. Even though it took a while to get here.

When we try to understand envy at its core and let it reveal to us our true selves, we open ourselves to the possibility of transforming its role in our lives from being a competitive, destructive force into being a cooperative, and possibly nurturing one. Because we let the people that we envy influence us for the better while observing their lives. Instead of being a reason to tear each other down like it usually is, envy could then build us up.

This will not always easily be the case, of course, and there will be times where we get stuck with being envious of someone. There are just some things we will wish for ourselves that are more attainable for other people. We are especially vulnerable to this when we haven't taken enough time to truly know and accept ourselves. When we are out of touch with our own paths, we don't get to adapt insight to fit the mold of our unique journey, because we don't know what it is. Instead, there would be a tendency to superficially imitate and copy our sources of envy instead of adapting the important substance or element that is lacking in us, and is the ultimate source of the envy.

(Like being tempted to buy a skincare product used by someone with great skin instead of just using the good ones you have more regularly, Bea!)

Sometimes, that can be good enough for the mean time, but we will soon have to face ourselves and our true lives. Unfortunately, self discovery is something that is somehow just meant to be potentially painful and uncomfortable. But the rewards are always well worth it! There is always a feeling of invincibility and expansion that follows a successful round of self-reflection.

So face your envy. In fact, embrace it! Let it be your friend. Don't hide it or hide from it. Take its hand and let it lead you to a better self.

It's Hard to Write When I'm Happy

This is a brilliant piece by Sarah Kay that freakin' spoke to me. Or rather, more accurately, felt like I ...spoke it. I found it unbelievable how true it was for me. Mostly because it was literally the first thing I clicked on random when I decided to check more of her stuff out.

Lately, especially since the recent literary trend of "hugot" became popular (which is a filipino word for pulling something out from somewhere) in the local scene, I've been feeling out of place as a writer. It is where you basically express bitterness and hurt from your own life (usually lovelife) through innocuous posts that look like general advice or insight at first glance. Kind of like subtweeting, but you're subtweeting your own life.

When I was younger, all of my work came from a place of hugot. Seems that the more hurt I was, the easier it was to squeeze out some songs and poems and whatnot. Out of necessity, if you will. They made me feel saner and gave a sense of purpose for the mental turmoil.

I watched this performance and it came together in my head. For better and for worse, I've grown into a state of mind that this form of art no longer is a necessity that my mental peace depends upon.

Writing has been a way for me to pick my own head and emotions apart, to process reality and also the less-real monsters that only exist in my head. I used to have to do all that on my own, but now it's as if Beardy has become a constant sounding board and confidant. I definitely don't believe that I feel less things and therefore write less things. In fact, I feel more things now. It's easier for me to cry now, and easier to laugh. It's like that age-old adage that says that the more room you make in your heart for sadness, the more room it also has for happiness and love. Or something like that anyway.

In fact it was with Beardy that I first shared this realisation. I showed him the video and told him it's what's been going on with me. At first he was like, wow that was really nice and well-written. Then after a beat.. Wait, how do you relate to it?

And I said (and please excuse the nauseating cheesiness of language, because I'm pretty straightforward with him with my feelons):

"like hurt and anger and dejection fueled my writing
but i found peace and comfort in you
and often feel glazed [i meant like drunken-like smiling here, im now aware that it's not what glazed eyes signify, haha] and writing has stopped being a primal need
there's no emotional scab to pick at anymore"

And that last line felt insightful to me in a way that I used to feel about my writings and I realised that I still use my words in that kind of heart-baring, fizzy-head causing way. But I don't write it in blogs and notebooks much, going around and around in circles replaying things in my head, burning holes through memories until all that's left are the blackened and incomplete ugly parts and burnt fingers. Instead I do it with him, and my friends, and alone, in my own head. But unlike before, I don't overthink my emotions as much and it's lead me to become a more stable person.

Instead, I've been more likely to stay silent and think about things as they are, or better yet, to just... try and experience and know life as it is right now. Where am I right now? Who am I? What's the next step? What should I do? How much am I enjoying this? How can I express my love more? It's still imperfect, and still involves too much time in my head as opposed to just being, which is the ultimate goal, but it's a step closer.

In thinking about this I also got reminded of a poem I wrote about Beardy a few years back, upon observing that even though my usual "move" when I get infatuated with someone was to write them songs, I actually just end up drawing him. (I've written maybe a couple songs for him, but nothing that stuck and I honestly can't remember them! I think I'm really aging, or just not as impressed by my own work anymore as to remember every single thing I make.)

i sketched this while watching him sleep on Skype. i called it Chasing You While You Sleep. STAP JUDGING MEEEEEEE~

I loved all of them with words

I sang to their shapes in my memory foam head

I wrote stories around the ghosts they left

But you, I like to draw you instead.

Loving you is silent.

Tracing your forehead, your chin and your nose

No need for composing melodic weeping

True love doesn’t dream, it knows. 

[13.10.2012]

I can feel you cringing all the way from here. Are you done? Good.

Moving on. even though it's mostly been a positive experience ending up this way, I would still like to eventually find a way to not need to have writing be a thing that I absolutely must do to not be sad. That would make sadness a prerequisite. I would like to write to write, because I think it's the core practice that brings my interests together, and it's the thing that can express the meaning behind all the other things that I do that don't have writing as an element. I feel that I've lived too long using it as a way to just be okay because I wasn't, and I'd like to elevate my experience in a way that I strive for more than that in a more automatic way. I want working harder and creative more frequently to be part of my nature again, even though it's not needed in an urgent, grasping way. I don't want to live mostly on autopilot anymore. And I have been trying lately, and yet the results seem very small.

But that's the thing that makes being present really helpful to me right now. Instead of focusing on that fact, I am able to let myself experience the journey itself and accept it when it is slow and difficult and frustrating, and keep at it anyway.

After all, it's not like I have anything better to do!

like fire

these are the kinds of days where two showers are necessary

and sometimes not even enough

when you wonder if you've been eating more than your share

because you've bloated, and then you realise it's the heat

and that you're expanding

you're pieces of matter after all,

even though sometimes you forget

it's not pretty

to be in between two sizes

you've been here before

a nine year old

feeling sexless and free

only to come home to a mother telling you 

that you need to wear something under your shirt

because your breasts betray the youth 

that has been everything you knew

up to that point

and here you are again

wondering about the next shape you'll take

it's days like these where you try to escape your body

sleeping more often than usual

mind racing, impossible to pin down

to the one task you know you need to commit to

if you're ever to leave this phase

you're hot, molten metal

but your final form is still

peaceful, purposeful

solid enough to permeate 

and to leave a mark.

the sun is testing you

and there is no way out of the heat

for now

to be enlightened, is to be lit

bright enough

to see through the shadow of the discomfort

emanating from the same source

Sorry for the feelings.

A pretty lunch on a Sunday
"What time are you leaving on Wednesday?"
Mom asks my baby then my
Fork stops
Kick in the gut
Throat blocked.
I stop eating,
I can't take it in.
"Maybe", my body offers,
"If I stop functioning, time will stop
to let me catch up"
And you won't have to leave me anymore.
Simple question, but the room around me shakes,
threatening to spill tears I've been securing,
"What time are you leaving on Wednesday?"
A pretty lunch on a Sunday
But my tears are too close to the brim
There's no room to swallow anything.