Of Not Equating Life with Bills;

We live our whole lives working towards something: a bigger house, a fatter pay check, designer clothes, latest gadgets, and things to embellish ourselves with. Though one thing remains true: at one point in our lives, we’ve worked very hard to save-up for our big adventure – the one that will change our lives.

Sadly some never come to realize that dream. In the chaos of papers, grinding down hours at work, and living in the world of comfort, the next big adventure becomes the next big material splurge. There is nothing wrong with wanting and gaining but please keep in mind that the material won’t have any bearing on your life after this. We all start from scratch after this life in terms of material things.

If reincarnation was indeed real – I would rather nourish my soul with sights and sounds and people I love rather than with clothes, gadgets, and people that only satisfy my flesh.

Most will not see it this way; to most, what I’m saying will be written off a crazy or a load of cock and bull – because we’ve been brainwashed to think that what satisfies the flesh, is what satisfies the soul. I was like this. I will admit to this…but then something happened.

I packed my bag and I went to go see the world outside of the world that I knew of.

I have always been a tourist in new places…but somehow, going on trips without these conveniences will open your eyes to things that will humble you. Do not be a tourist, but be a wanderer.

I have not been to many places as compared to the vast majority who will probably read this but the places I have been to have taught me how to appreciate the smaller things in life, that at the end of the day, it’s what matters. That life is worth more than just a piece of paper with numbers printed on it.

That life is drinking from a fresh cold spring, running your fingers through rocks, kayaking through lonely waters, sleeping on secluded beaches, talking to locals, sleeping in a Nipa hut or even on the ground, getting lost in winding roads, hiking-up a mountain, leaping off a cliff, and watching sunrises and sunsets in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, money is important and we need it to live but do yourself a favor and do not let it rule you. Our lives shouldn’t be based on what papers say we’re worth. Our lives should be based on the moments we live.

Work hard towards something for your soul. The Universe rewards that kind of bravery.

I must warn you though: the thing with adventure is that once you’re bitten by it, it stays with you forever; and the people you meet while on this adventure will laugh, cry, drink, sleep, ride, love, hate, say hello and goodbye to you – that is reality. But one thing remains, it’s the fact that wherever you are, no matter how many times you’ve been there, everything is a new adventure and your eyes and your soul will thank you for it.

So go on little dreamers, go on the adventure you’ve waited years to take.

Your soul is rooting for you.

Of Wearing Stories & Permanency.

I never thought I’d be the girl who would get tattoos, I always thought I would be the type who would keep myself as blank and as porcelain as possible because that’s what I was exposed to. Sure, as a child I’ve always drawn on myself and I’ve let others draw on me. At one point in all our childhoods, our skins served as scratch papers full of markers and pen marks.

But having something very permanent inked on you? That’s different.

I got my first tattoo at nineteen. It was a Hindu prayer which I still recite every now and then, especially when the world gets a little bit crazy and a whole lot rougher like it has been the past few years. The rest followed.

It’s true about tattoos – get one, you get them all. Thing is, I always tend to over think my tattoos. I want every tattoo on my body to symbolize something or someone; common sense would dictate it’s the sane thing to do, perhaps?

I don’t have a lot of tattoos compared to the vast majority of friends and acquaintances I’ve met over the years but I’ve learned that there will always be judgement from those that don’t understand this form of self expression. We do, after all, have the tendency as humans to judge what we do not understand.

You see, various people have various reasons for getting tattoos. Getting a tattoo isn’t about being cool, it’s not all about wanting to decorate ourselves with colors, drawings and words – but, and maybe this isn’t just me, we get tattoos to mark something beautiful in our lives.

To be a walking and living piece of art when done correctly.

Tattoos, for me, signify stories and living. It shows the documentation of your life, it’s not purely aesthetic and not purely rebellion. They are happy scars – permanent marks of how you have lived up until the next milestone.

So as I sit here, preparing myself for the next chapter of my life, I look at my arms and I quietly say goodbye to the blank spaces on it and say cheers to the remainder of 2013.

We have survived the apocalypse. 
Now for fuck’s sake – just go do what it is that makes you happy.

May your scars show you a life you’re proud to document.

Of Moon Mothers, Hands, and Promises.

Growing up child is just a matter of time
Forgiven all you’ve got, so won’t you dance under the sun?
Growing old feels like you’re giving up your soul –
And I’d rather give it freely to the ones that I call home

– Growing Up, Run River North

Dearest Ava,

I remember the first time your Mama told me she was pregnant with you. She was very scared and very confused. I was very speechless and very helpless. I guess when faced with a life changing event, we are all left feeling the extremes of everything.

You were a shock to the system, and this was just me, so I often wondered how your Mama must have felt. Over the course of your early life inside her, there would be a series of panicked and serious conversations, hopeless and desperate tears, and the sinking realization that lives were about to change and we weren’t children anymore.

As months flew by, and as we watched your Mama’s progress with every photo update she had sent us – I began feeling excited. Everything suddenly became a series of conversations filled with anticipation, happy tears, and the realization that your Mama will have a beautiful partner in crime just a few months away. We were all very excited to meet you Ava, you were very loved even before you opened your eyes.

I will admit that I never really understood children and there is a part of me that doesn’t think I can handle the responsibility of having one, so when your Mama told me I would be your Moon Mother – I took a deep breath, and tried to  think of the things I could teach you.

I am admittedly not the best role model in the world, but I know enough to know what to say when you want to try something or too afraid to tell your Mama about something you did. I don’t know a lot Ava, but I know I made a promise to take care of you during the good, the bad, and most definitely the worst.

I was so scared to hold you because I didn’t know how to. You seemed so small, so fragile – I felt like I was going to break you. I felt like I was too clumsy to even think about holding you…but when you held onto my finger, something told me I could. You held onto my finger as if you were telling me not to panic; at such a young age Ava, you’ve already taught me something and pushed me further into new territory.

A lot of people will teach you how to walk, run, swim, draw, paint, laugh, cry, and so much more; but I promise to be there, holding your hand through the adventures you let me be a part of.

I knew, in that moment, your Moon Mother had been born.

Thank you for melting my heart that day little darling. Cheers to your adventures ahead.

I love you.

Goodbye Indefinitely, Advertising.

I packed a small box which contained my Star Wars figurines, a few pens, a small overly inked calendar, a burned DVD containing all the songs I had leeched from officemates, and a notebook containing doodles and notes from meetings that have come and gone. This was my Advertising career, summarized in one small box.

I looked around the place I called familiar for the last year and a half. To the people that were there, this day was no different from the last to the next couple of days – this is work. Though to me, that night, that was the signal of the end of me being something that was so clear cut. That was the night I stopped following the path that was supposedly mine ever since University.

I looked at the busy faces, heard the hurried steps, felt the urgent typing, and I drank it all in for one last time. I will miss this, I will miss them.

For the duration of my short career, I have always been grateful to have had mentors who taught me how to not only be an Account Executive, but taught me the value of organization, patience, enjoying the little things (like taking a break and eating a piece of chocolate), understanding, and breathing the bad juju away – traits I admittedly lacked coming into the world of Advertising.

I have grown a lot in this world, despite the time I punched in – it was something I enjoyed doing but I also knew that there was something I needed and wanted to do. I needed to walk the Earth and choose the road that was scary and unsure while I still had the chance – where it wasn’t so scary to get scars from leaping into the unknown.

I needed to grow in a new world and find what it means to live outside of a cubicle, answering e-mails, phone calls, and text messages all day. I sat in my chair for one last time, as if trying to convince myself that this is where I belonged and if I had done the right thing, but I knew my feet wanted to go and explore unfamiliar territory. That it was in that moment where everything was so clear and scary at the same time.

I knew that the moment I walked out of those doors, I was walking into a life that didn’t have a steady paycheck, stability, or even health care. But I was excited for the uncertainty because I was exploring and living this life for me now. That for the first time, in a long time, I was fully accountable for keeping myself alive.

As I sat up, I felt like I was leaving a part of me in that chair, in that office. But I was sure that I was leaving a piece of me in every person I loved in those four walls. I felt like crying but the tears wouldn’t come because I knew, even though I wouldn’t see them as often as I wanted, I’d still see them again because the Universe has a very funny way of colliding people to each other, especially when they mean a lot to you.

I hugged all of them. They were selfishly mine for a few seconds before we let go and wished each other the best of luck.

To my mentors and friends, thank you. I miss you all every day, but you are all in my thoughts and you all somehow manifest in how I do work and I will always be grateful for that.

I have been walking this new path for a little over a month now, and it still remains to be scary and unpredictable – yet very refreshing and I have learned a lot about myself and the way life works in just this small amount of time. The road has been hard, and it will get harder, I know this – but I take this route with a bag full of optimism and love.

Sometimes, in order to understand the rain – we must go out willingly without an umbrella; open our hands to the sky and close our eyes. We must experience the world we live in for ourselves, but we must have the courage to accept the consequences of our decisions.

So with this, I bid farewell, indefinitely, to the world of Advertising.

Thank you for all the opportunities and the people I’ve had the privilege of colliding with. Especially the people.

Of Comfort Zones, Greedy Prayers & Hand Prints.

Baby Ava’s hand. (c) Her Mama, Diane.

This post is dedicated to them.

I sit in this seemingly deserted office, looking out into the morning haze over the city through its window and I start thinking about the days to come and the days that had been. I look aimlessly as the sun and dust create a cloud that perfectly outlines its rays. Morning has started, again.

I sit back and say a little prayer.

I find myself doing that more often now, saying little prayers to the Universe. No more prayers of grief, of want, of longing; just prayers of hope, of understanding, of gratitude. I used to never believe in prayer because it never seemed to result to anything but maybe it was because I was praying for the wrong things. Maybe I was praying out of greed. Maybe.

You see, it’s not that easy to believe in seemingly silly things but sometimes, when there’s nothing left to lose – you just have to hope for the best results because often times, something comes out of nothing.

Staring out into my screen, scrolling through tons of unneeded information about people on various social networking sites, I see that one picture that made my heart stop. I see that ultrasound picture of little baby Ava – with her tiny hand, as if waving hello to the world. Then I think about her mother, Diane.

The connection I have with Diane is a weird one. It is a rollercoaster of emotions; but in all honesty, I can say that no one has the right to say that they know my fickle heart and my wandering feet more than her. Yes, my life has been an open book and I’ve always welcomed people to read from it but somehow, it’s like she understood the chapters differently. Though we do not know each other’s entire being, I have always felt that in terms of thought and the utter need of our souls – Diane & I understood each other. It’s a connection that is hard to explain.

Through the many hardships we’ve both kept, though not same in intensity or experience, these things have molded us into creatures that fear almost nothing but everything. We have realized that the world is an unfriendly place at a young age yet this has also taught us to be stronger, to face it with raw emotions of courage, recklessness, and more recently, love.

The amount of tears from countless fights, unending laughter, and seemingly deep sorrow shared between us can sail a ship but this has not stopped us from still learning and gathering experiences the best we can.

As the sun envelopes the city now, I think about how she is about to embark on probably her greatest adventure yet – motherhood. It has not been an easy road and it’s about to get harder, but with everything she’s learned from the past, I know she’s going to be a great mother.

I cap off this little prayer of safety with a dash of strength and love, for we can never get too much of those things nowadays.

I’ll be waving hello soon little Ava. This godmother is ready to grasp your hand in hopes that it will show you the Universe and lead you to the stars. Ad Astra Per Aspera.

Of Remembering & Walking Forward.

I remembered him today.

He was just a passing thought while I walked the streets of the city I would say goodbye to in a few weeks. I stopped and I looked-up to the sun-scorched skies, felt the heat and the wind on my face. In a city where people seem to solely look at traffic lights and their destinations, I was there, standing still, remembering the one I used to love & the changes ahead.

All my short adult life, I have been that – an adult.

I have looked at my priorities and the planned life I supposedly wanted and needed to live. I have been so concentrated on being one thing that I forgot to be the other things. Yes, we can’t be everything we want to be but we must also not confine ourselves to just being one thing. I have lost track of this thought, I have also lost the value of seeing things like a child: that understanding, belief, and imagination.

This, me concentrating on inflating my own corporate ego, has cost me so many friendships, opportunities, and even, love. I close my eyes, and still I remember him.

I wonder where he is right now & exactly what he’s doing. I have forgotten about him up until that moment; I still have the scars from the night we parted ways. I had made a promise to myself that I would never beg for someone & that I would never allow myself to be that vulnerable ever again. I have kept myself strong for the longest time that I had turned to stone.

The depression & the unhappiness I had felt was so overwhelming that often times, I would just sleep and wish for a better tomorrow. But depression does not end this way. Life isn’t supposed to end this way – with us just sleeping it away.

I am not going to pretend that I know what I’m doing or that my journey is laid out in front of me, paved with happiness and love. I have never been this lost but I have also never been this excited to live. The journey I am about to take is a hard one, but it is one I am glad to take.

I would rather have scars to show for living than the money to show for merely existing.

Then in that moment, I remember him walking away from me.

I open my eyes to a handful of stares, I smile at the man who was too busy to see me smile. I shrug and feel refreshed and continue to walk once more. The more I walked further in this concrete jungle, the more I realized how much I didn’t belong here even though I always thought I did.

I had remembered him, the ghost of all relationships past. I remembered him because, perhaps, I needed to be reminded that I once loved unconditionally and I could do it once more, smarter this time. I remembered him because maybe in this life, we need to take a step back in order to move forward.

Understanding Soulmates

We all try to look for someone who fits our ideals: the beautiful, the talented, the intelligent; and we do find them, perhaps individually during different stages of our lives or if we’re lucky enough, they’re one person with these traits. Though somehow, we still sit there unsatisfied so we go on and search once more, a variation of the beautiful, the talented, the intelligent. At the end of the day, I find, these things don’t matter because ideal has to give way to reality and reality is: we all just want someone who understands the darkest and rustiest part of our soul.

If you want to …

If you want to change the world love a man; really love him.
Choose the one whose soul calls to yours clearly who sees you;
who is brave enough to be afraid.
Accept his hand and guide him gently to your hearts blood
Where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there
And burn his heavy load in your fires
Look into his eyes look deep within and see what lies dormant or awake or shy or expectant there
Look into his eyes and see there his fathers and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time
Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt; without judgment
And let it all go
Feel into his ancestral burden
And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you
Let him melt in your steady gaze
And know that you need not mirror that rage
Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
Sit before him, in the full majesty of your woman in the breath of your vulnerability
In the play of your child innocence in the depths of your death
Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man
To step forward towards you…and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together
And when he retreats…because he will…flees in fear to his cave…
Gather your grandmothers around you…envelope in their wisdoms
Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers,
calm your frightened girls’ heart
Urging you to be still…and wait patiently for his return
Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance,
that he may be soothed, once more

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
Do not coax out his little boy
With guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery
Only to lure him…to a web of destruction
To a place of chaos and hatred
More terrible than any war fought by his brothers
This is not feminine this is revenge
This is the poison of the twisted lines
Of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world
And this gives no power to woman it reduces her as she cuts off his balls
And it kills us all
And whether his mother held him or could not
Show him the true mother now
Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth
Smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core
Do not punish him for his wounds that you think don’t meet your needs or criteria
Cry for him sweet rivers
Bleed it all back home

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
Love him enough to be naked and free
Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death
And thank him for the opportunity
As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods
Be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being
Let him know he can hold you stand up and protect you
Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you
Even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before
Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself
And merge into the sweet nothing, of this worlds’ heart

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him
And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected
By strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows
Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream

– Anonymous

Of Versions & Cravings.

Bathed in artificial sunlight in a drunken haze, we all become a certain version of ourselves: Brave Spartan, Bitchy Fashionista, Silly Joker, Dancing God, Sex Symbol, Art Fag, Talkative Junkie. All of these personalities melt together in a crowded dance floor, hands raised to the heavens, praising a god high on the pedestal, spewing blessings of music and love that pulses through everyone’s veins and by the end of the night, if you’re lucky, you disappear with someone else’s version of themselves.

As I raise my hands up, feeling the confetti rain down on me as if they cleansed me of every bad feeling I accumulated over the week, I close my eyes and I let the moment envelope me like a child in her mother’s caress.

I move around in that drunken haze, feeling like that wittier version of myself, somewhere in between an overly indulgent art fag & a dancing god. I realize though, while warm bodies collide with mine, the definition of partying has become different for me. It was no longer about the sex, the alcohol and sometimes, the drugs. It was now about the music and the company, the feeling of being so high on the moment that there is quite possibly no chemical that could replicate that feeling.

Though it was somewhere in-between euphoria and being sober that it hit me: the craving of sharing the moment with a lover. No, I was not about to look for a temporary fix because that is not what I wanted or craved.

I craved for the lover who was thousands of miles away, the lover who I wasn’t even sure would be my lover come the time the Universe allowed us to collide but I knew, in that moment that I craved for him. In the middle of the dance floor, I stood there, watching versions upon versions of strangers and acquaintances intertwining and latching onto each other and I looked and looked but I couldn’t find anything.

Until I closed my eyes and let everything drown me again.

I craved not for drugs but for euphoria. I craved not for sex but for intimacy. I craved not for hugs but for warmth. I craved not for kissing but for love. I craved not for drunkenness but for courage. I craved not for food but for satisfaction. In that moment, I craved because every breath I inhaled reminded me how much of him lingers within me, despite the distance, despite the lack of interaction.

This lover is my sex, my drug, my alcohol, my music, my art. He creates this version of me that wants to take risks and leap into the dangerous unknown. With the thought of him, I am a version of myself that wants to give love to the world with nothing in return.

I crave him not because of obsession, I crave him because he crawls within the depths of my dirty soul and kisses me deeply where it hurts.

And it was there, underneath the bright lights & the crowded floor, I have found the version of myself that was willing to love again.

This Time, Be Braver.

Whatever course you decide upon,

there is always someone to tell you

that you are wrong. There are always

difficulties arising which tempt you to

believe that your critics are right. To

map out a course of action and follow

it to an end requires courage.

– R.W. Emerson

I’ve always said that life was made for living & that living was made for the brave, but there is always that point in our lives where we stand at a crossroads between fight or flight. You stand there, staring at these two options, trying to put two and two together and praying to a god you weren’t sure you believed in five minutes ago, so that he would lead you to choose the correct path.

Most of the time, when faced with a seemingly life-altering decision, we tend to weigh things. Though being humans, we have evolved in our decision-making patterns: we are now making decisions as consumers, as Advertising-fed money devotees, as instant gratification whores, as egoistic sharks and we have seemingly lost our ability to act on instinct, instead we just measure. Measure the amount of money and glory. Measure the amount of praise and sex. Measure the stability and the safety. We have completely disregarded our instinct, the one thing in our system that connects us to create magic with the Universe, we have been weighed and measured and we have consistently chosen the path of safety.

Yes, I understand the allure of being safe. I understand the feeling of needing to know routine. I understand wanting to have a plan, an itinerary. I understand craving for security.

I understand it because I am in it. I am in a safe environment. I am consistently in a routine. I am making plans and itineraries everyday. I am in a secure job. Meaning to say, I have chosen the path of flight.

Flying away from every dream, every adventure, every single thing that makes the blood in my veins skip and feel excited about. This is wrong. This is not a life to be proud of.

So as I sit here, in this suffocating cubicle, breathing in circulated air and dirt, I look outside into the concrete jungle and think of the path I have chosen. I think about every responsibility I have. Every obligation I have to stay at this routine. Every reason I tell myself why I need to be in this box. Every day I think about this and every day I convince myself that this is a path I have to live with.

But my instinct, my gut, the holder of this magic – tells me that it’s not too late. That this path I’ve chosen to walk on, I can always choose to walk on the grass and run towards the long and winding road of the unknown.

I can feel my life is about to change as I look up towards the sky and see the blue skies and the birds flying out to where their instinct tells them to go.

This time, I’ll be braver and may you be braver as we leap into the magic of adventure. It’s never too late for anything.