I have always heard the calling of the sea. The cool but warm breeze caressing my skin, the salty tang of the wind around me. Yes, I have always heard the calling of the sea. The soft but loud crash of the breaking wave on the white hot sand that encompasses my feet. The overall peacefulness of it all. I could look up to the bright blue sky and breathe in the air that is familiar yet strange at the same time. I could feel the sun touches my face gently, and with my feet buried under the warm sand, I could finally feel contented. At last. At last, I am here, listening to the calling of the sea.
It is all well and fun until one is torn between two. Two different sides warring against each other. The drums are loud and deafening. The roar harsh and crumpling. Where one’s heart screams for attention and help to flourish, but one’s mind wails about the ailments of life. When one’s heart walks to one direction but the mind chooses the other. What will one’s do? Will one choose the heart that gives happiness and contentment in life, or the mind that guarantees success and stability? It is indeed all fun and well until one is torn between two. Is it the mind or the heart?
A bone may break. With a sickening crack a bone can be broken. And the pain will be unbearable. And the person suffers. But a mind may bend. It bends with a soft almost non-existent energy, but it bends. And once it bends, it will be easier to mend cracked bones than to care for a bent mind. As minds can be tricky. It can be as strong as the strongest steel, but it can wither upon the faintest hints of the winter’s storm. And bones are easily seen and treated, but the trouble of the mind will fester unnoticed until it finally snaps and makes its presence known. But even then, people will not as easily see it as it is. Even though the mind keeps on breaking every day. Bit by bit, until there’s nothing left…
I am walking through a dense forest. I could look up and see the clear blue or the beautiful glints of the stars posing their way through their own lives. I could see clouds forming in different shapes each reminding me of my own. I could hear the chirps and feel the gentle caress of the breeze upon my skin. I could smell the earthy wet soil underneath my feet. I could taste the life itself. I could feel peace blooming inside my weary heart as I look up and close my eyes shut basking in the warm sun that is making its presence known by peeking shyly though the giant leaves. But as I inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…I open my eyes slowly. And as I look straight ahead, all I can see is nothing. Nothing but greens. And as I stare at the two paths before me, I realized that, even after all the peacefulness that came before, I am still as lost as one is uncertain while the other is unclear.
It’s been a long time. The longest of my life. Since I last call your name. Since I last touch your hand. Since I last kiss your cheek. Since I last breathe the air you breathe. Since I last see your face. Your smiling face. It’s been a long time. And it’ll be longer still. Till I can touch your face. Till I can trace the lingering frown on your forehead and turn it into a smile once again. Till I can feel your arms around me. Till I can stop feeling half-alive. Till I’m once again whole. It’s been a long time. And longer still. Till I meet you again, my love.
My mind is a dangerous place, I thought. My thoughts linger in my mind, my darkest, deepest, most sacred secrets lurks in my mind. Indeed, my mind is a dangerous place. I can’t bear to be alone with my mind, less it will consume me whole. It will devour me of my own being until I’m reduced to nothing but my mind. And is that a good thing or bad thing? I can’t decide. I am dependent on my mind. My mind with its dark and secret passageways guiding me away from the light. I can’t. I need to get away from my mind. Not when I know I’m not strong enough to deal with the temptation for a more peaceful and permanent way out that comes from my mind. So, yes, indeed my mind is a very dangerous place to be in these sort of times. I need to get away. But, can I?
They started from a small seedling growing up slowly but sure in our mind. In our heart. Watered by the constant praise and fostered by the encouragement from the people around us. No doubt is ever present to conceal the small and fragile seedling still hungry for the light of hope. No. The small seedling will, no, must grow to a big tree with deep enough root and with confidence unshakeable by even the strongest storm life may create. And so we take care of that small seed carefully, lovingly, gently. We nurture it so that it will become as big as it can be in the future. And so it grew. Slowly but sure. Then once its roots were deep enough to keep itself planted firmly in our mind and heart, the storms come one by one. It comes as a deep sigh and worry lines etched deep on our parents’ worn out face. It comes in the form of a loud bellow of protest from families who frown and try their hardest to find faults out of their well-meaning concerns. It comes from the same people who once put so much care into growing that small yet beautiful seed into a tall and magnificent tree. Then the shadows, worries, concerns start to slowly seep into the deeply seated root of that once strong tree. For some, it won’t affect the deeply rooted tree of dreams and it will bloom and grow still. But for some, it will seep so deep, the root will start to decay even though not gone. No. Never gone. Merely forgotten. And maybe someday, we can muster up the courage to shed some much needed light and sunshine to that long forgotten tree and watch it bloom into an even stronger and bigger tree than it was before. Till then, it waits.
With a loud cry it makes its presence known. Deep inside the heart and mind of people. With a roaring and piercing scream it clutches the happiness and the joy in the world. All that is left, the deep longing, the helplessness, the sad annoyance, the self loathing, the inability to do anything. Fight it and it retreats back to the darkest corner of our mind, but that is the place where it’s strongest. With a caressing whisper and a seducing touch it will lure you from the bright light of positivity and into its gruesome anger and negativity. And once you succumb to its seduction, it starts. The feeling of blood boiling frustration that will consume you and the people around you. And you can do nothing about it except hoping that it will soon subside and that it will give you some sort of reprieve, but it won’t. Every single time you find yourself alone with your mind, it will come back and drag you once again to its tight embrace.
Time flows within us all. Babies. Children. Teenagers. Young adults. Adults. And soon, without notice, people are settling down with wrinkles all over their bodies, aches that only come with age, sights getting blurry, and their time coming to an end. Without notice, time flows within us all. With time, comes responsibilities, duties, jobs; working their way up to grasp our attention and full concentration. Our focus. Our entire being. Time seems to stop. People start ignoring the presence of time that flows, that continuously waiting for the chance to be noticed once again. But still, time flows inside us all. Without notice. Silent. Waiting. Lurking. And seemingly unassuming. Before it strikes back to make people aware of its presence where it never leaves in the first place. But people forgets. People ignores. People overlooks. People evades. People avoids. People simply forgets. But time doesn’t forget. Doesn’t leave. Always there. Always ticking its slender hand to the calm rythmic tempo of its seconds, minutes, hours.Tick. Tock. Time flows in us all. And as we forgets, time remembers. As we leaves, time stays. Yet, when it catches up with us, we said : where does all the time go? When it is us that forgets and time doesn’t.
Fire. Hot burning fire. Fire destroys; they said. Fire burns; they said. Fire kills; they said. But I know fire. And they are warm and gentle. And I feel it inside me every single time I move; every time I walk; every time I see; every time I breathe. It calms me. It encourages me. Fire. That hot burning fire. Chases the dark away with its beautiful dance, protects me from the dangers lurking in the shadows, and embraces me within its fiery grasp. The light it shines, the warmth it exudes. Fire; lives inside me. Igniting the flame of passion and of love and of life. Fire. Hot burning fire. Its seductive prance will entice unassuming people to taste, to touch, to feel. And it will consumes them who are not yet worthy to receive its blessing. Fire. Hot burning Fire. It is of passion, of love, and of life itself.