Being brave is not about doing something huge. Sometimes, It's simply about having the courage to let things be, and not do anything at all. It's about letting someone know how much they mean to you, without expecting the sky in return. It's about dreaming, without thinking about the limitations, or taking a leap of faith, just because it feels right in your gut. Being brave is following your intuition, no matter where it takes you. It's about fighting for the things you believe in, and not backing down. It's about just being yourself, no matter what life serves you each day. It's about daring to hope. About learning to heal. And standing your ground, no excuses, no refuge. Finding yourself and accepting yourself, just the way you are ... That, perhaps, is the bravest thing of all. 

Have you ever dug your fingers deep into wet soil and felt its texture on your skin? Try it if you haven’t. And if you have, you will know what it feels like. This soil is the essence of yourself, your body; it is what you are made of and what you will become. When you work with your hands in the soil, you are connecting with your innermost self. Your life energy is flowing from your fingertips into the soil and you are taking from the soil the energy of the universe. It has a way of recharging you, restoring a sense of equilibrium and making you happy.

Work in the fields all day long, and see how you feel. Give in to the moment, without thinking about the past or the future. Think not about the fruits of your labor, nor the pain of working in the sun, or the wind, or the cold. Simply give in, entirely, to the moment of being here and now, in the present, with your hands feeling the grains of this soil, working tirelessly, systematically, planting, weeding, gardening, digging, mixing…just stay in the moment, as if your life depended on it.

 Feel the wind, breathe in the smell of the earth, feel the sun, feel the heat, the cold in its entirety, let yourself experience without trying to block out any of it. You will become a part of nature. As you were meant to be. Not the master of nature, as we humans so foolishly believe, but a small, but essential, part of it. Blending in with the air, the sunshine, the soil and the water. All of the elements that make us, are in us, we are a part of them. Respect the union. Close your eyes and feel the oneness. There is no name, no identity to this being. It is part of the whole. The energy of the universe is flowing through your body. And you do not resist it. You become a medium. You heal. Body and soul. 

Create

What is it about fairytales that makes you believe in magic. Does the world really have magic? All those little wonderful things. Fairies, and gremlins, and little mice that talk. When do we stop believing in all those things, and grow up? May be we never do. In all of us, there lives that little child, who never stopped believing. In magic, in love that leads to happily ever after, in prince charming who will come one day to sweep you off your feet. Why do fairytales make you cry, and laugh and feel so melancholy yet happy, all at the same time? To live in a world of fantasy, and make believe. To always look for the magic in the mundane…that’s what art is, and artists are the ones that never let go of the magic. We must create, to be alive. It’s what makes us what we truly are. 

Tell me a story.

Limitless.

Like the starry sky that touches the horizon. That engulfs me whole, takes me to the ends of the earth and pushes me over the edge.

Let me freefall into your words, with nothing to hold on to, and nothing to hold back. Tell me what your soul whispers in the dark. Those stories you told no one before. Give me everything. The pain, the tears, the fear, the hope, the joy, and everything in between. I will see you for what you are.

No.

Not that person who smiles through it all. But the real you, with all the scars, the wounds, and your beautiful messy mind.

You are perfect.

A painting in the making. A song of the morning. Colors, love, misery. Everything and nothing. You stand alone, between the shadow and the silence. 

The poetry of a rain kissed dawn

The poetry of a fresh monsoon dawn

Rain-kissed sunlight, a veil of damp velvety dew

I run my fingers upon the strings of droplets along green young leaves

And I trail a song, of rain and sunshine…laughing upon wet earth

A symphony of stars, an unseen smile

Music flowing though my veins

The song of the universe

The monsoon song

From the summertime stolen, a note or two

A tune that lost its way

And found a song along its meandering wandering path

in between thoughts, when all is still and quiet

there’s bliss and absolute truth

still as a lake beneath the hill

clear as water in an untouched spring

there’s music inside that’s always playing

there’s a beautiful orchestra if you listen close

stop the chaos, the million voices, the noise within

filter the beauty from the mundane

it’s everywhere only if you stop to listen

Lose yourself

The music plays, the unrest within keeps on growing. Soothe the madness, let the mundane takeover. Lose the questions in the murkiness of a satiated mind. Keep those pretenses up. Keep the smile intact. Hide the folly in those naked eyes. They speak the truth. They give you away. Don’t understand the language your soul speaks in, until it’s just white noise in your mind. And you become what the people see. Another lonely soul, amidst the mirage of friendly faces. In the company of a thousand souls, all lost like sheep, all trying to feel their way towards an unknown dawn, in the darkness of a never ending night. Alone. The piper plays a tune. Forlorn. A bird sings with no end in sight. Bleed. And the pain will drain your soul. Smile. When you have nothing left to lose. 

The more you seek. The more lost you will become. And that is the only way to find yourself. In the middle of chaos. In hopelessness and despair. At the very brink of sanity. Lies freedom.