the sparks

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IMG_7154Sidhing, Nepal.

It was the last day on the mountain, and i was waiting for my jeep, to go back to town. Did the 4 days trek on the Himalaya, took the Mardi Himal route.

While expecting Machapuchare AKA The Fist Tail to show up behind the clouds, i realized that i ddnt know anything about the mountain i just hiked, the mountain that has been a dream, so i googled HIMALAYA.

Wikipedia did say a lot,  the highest summits, the effort to reach or conquer it. People with passion for the height or the mountains, people with passion.

I guess that was also why i did the trip, the hike. It was not easy, but it was so worth doing. It was everything i did dream of and even more.

IMG_7147Passion is silent power that drives people toward their particular path. It is one’s true self. You can never explain or describe to other people, for it is so personal, except maybe to people who posseses the same drive, tho in different form. Most of the time it is because you, your self, dont quite understand it. But those people will understand the urge, the struggle, the denial.

It will find a way to pull you back in track when you lost direction, when you try to be everyone else. And this is just what it is doing to me right now. Put me back on my track, knowing i have been afraid of losing direction and dont really know how to get back.

And i am blessed.

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Day 103 – when dreams hurt

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He lives in the castle of dark blue mist, smells lavender, or at least that is how i like to imagine it. He howls his ballads thru night air, as an effort to take the hand of the moon and ask Her to dance. “A dreamer” i thought of him “The brave one at least” i added the thought. And what that makes me, really. He howls and howls his heart out to the empty sky where the moon resides, in the impossible distance. Woman are in and out of the dark blue mist, the story tells he has been fucking them by the window where the moon can witness, suppose to make Her jealous. His bravery makes me feel so small, my fingers even get numb tapping the letters of “fucking”. I am shrinking, but i can not turn away, believing his words could lead me to my own redemption. Cause, I too want to dance with the moon.

Day 102 – words

Like love or the word of love, do i know what they really are? interpretation, the play, the twist, the dance, as much as i want to believe in those characters, into their truthfulness, into their lies, they play my fingers, they whisper, they rule my blank space, they fill my void, empty it out, their demanding existence, arent i nothing but their slave? 

Words, sticky like spider web, hurting like broken glass, comforting lies like the clouds. 

And thus, here i am. 

day 101 – the silent weirdo

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when i am happy, deeply content happy, i see colors running thru my fingers in the open air, i see the moon giggling,

when i am down,  i see my self behind an invisible cloak or breathing under water,

when i am excited, i see my self bouncing like bubbles, i see my self harvesting lollipop tree, swirling down rainbows,

when i am anxious, the ground feels like cracking for me, my lung shrinks i can not breathe,

when i am in control, i speak the common language so i can be understood, but yet still….the images in my head would be racing and jumping up and down, bouncing for recognition, that is the time when i lost control and people around me will fade away.

so i choose to shush, just listening and seeing in my mind those normal words  turns into images. And that is how i perceive the world.