as i see it

MUSINGS UNDER THE GLORIOUS SUN, THE SOLACE OF THE MOON, AND WELL, WHATEVER IS IN BETWEEN

Night Sky

Night sky, night sky
a deep, dark sea
in tides of light
a distant shore of constellations
streams of comets
I suddenly feel free

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Reader’s High

For every reader, there is always that insatiable hunger, that unquenchable thirst that nags you often to grab a work of literature and be lost in those pages, no matter the length; there is a beckoning that cannot be ignored, that demands to be heard, every time there’s a novel nearby. It’s that inaudible whisper that calls for your name, for your attention, for your hands to caress the pages, for your eyes to see beyond the depths of words, and for your imagination to relive each scene vividly painted by letters whose meanings are always evolving depending on the mood and the time of the day or period you are in. Oh, to read! To read is a sensuous way of living!

Surpassing Superficiality

The true worth of a person is not based on the contours of his face, the weight of his body, and the color of his skin but on the doings of his soul; his ultimate value is measured through his words and actions. Consequently, in judging others superficially, you are, thereby, revealing more about yourself than the subject of your prejudiced attention. Who then is the fool in the crowd?

Life and Fiction

My world has three divisions. First is based on how I see, feel, perceive, imagine, and ultimately live; second is based on the set standards the we all agree on which numerous facts and moral groundings support; and third is, on multiple occasions, my reliance on others’ take on life and living, their (re)imagination, (re)interpretation, and (re)definition. For each firsthand experience, I evaluate through my critical lenses. For situations that require further deliberation, I consult others. And for the supposedly unthinkable yet had been thought of, I leave to pages of literature. In short, for everything that my senses encounter, I process through self-reflection, conversations, and fiction. Whether this is all true, I am no less certain than knowing if I’ll wake up every time I close my eyes. And so it goes.

On Asking ‘Why’

In the process of knowing the  who, what, when, where, and how, we often forget to ask a fundamental question, one that glues all these descriptive details together, the ultimate why? The answer may not be quickly provided, accessible, or easily understood; that is why the overall thought process behind it adds depths behind the other details we encounter or collect. Asking the why question, then, is a challenge for each of us. It is a call for us to exercise our mental faculties in understanding anything that may come up because sometimes in evaluating or in obtaining full comprehension of situations, people, or events and such the why factor makes a huge difference.

To love is to live, and to live is to love.

The heart is not meant to harbor hate; for when it does or at least attempts to, then it seizes to be one, rejecting its own purpose. We must all remember that it is that vessel from which everything that is and about love is born. Let that which spring forth and fill those other vessels with more. In doing so, you are fulfilling your heart’s purpose.

On Tolerance and Acceptance

Everything that we accept, we can also tolerate, but not everything we can tolerate can easily be accepted. Once we accept, not only are we practicing tolerance we are also, consequently, fully embracing or welcoming what it may be that requires our attention. On the other hand, if we practice tolerance, then we only demonstrate a type of fair or respectful treatment, and there may only be a possibility of acceptance in the future. Now, what really makes a huge difference in this relationship is how open we are to changes and how we can apply these changes to our perceptions; both will, in turn, determine the choice between tolerance and acceptance. So between the two, only you can weigh things accordingly.

On Life and Memory

Just like the waves, life ebbs and flows. Each memory, like a grain of sand, shapeless and so little by itself. Yet if each body, mind, and soul, whose vast spaces must be filled take up each grain, life is produced.