life

Tag: love

  • The Light That Lingers. 140.1

    A hand traced in sun,
    A laugh caught between seconds,
    Some moments do not fade.

    The Golden Hour Between Them

    The market was alive with sound, a humming current of voices, footsteps, the clinking of copper and silver coins changing hands. Sunlight filtered through the wooden canopies, catching in the dust that swirled lazily between the stalls. The scent of spiced lamb, ripe dates, and warm bread curled through the air, filling the spaces between conversation and the quiet glances of those who lingered a little too long at each other’s side.

    He laughed, the sound easy, like it had lived in his chest long before it had ever been released. She turned at the sound of it, her smile curling at the edges, unhurried, knowing. The kind of smile that people wrote poetry about centuries ago, before love became something that needed to be defined in precise, careful terms.

    She wore silver in her hair, the pieces catching in the sun like scattered stars. He had once joked that they looked like tiny moons, orbiting her, drawn into her gravity. He had said it with a grin, but she had caught something else in his tone. A quiet truth.

    The city moved around them, but they were standing outside of time. The kind of moment that didn’t need to be named. The kind that would stay, pressed into the fabric of the world, long after they had both left this place.

    The Weight of What We Keep

    Some moments don’t ask for permission to stay. They linger in the spaces between memory and dream, surfacing when the light hits just right, when a scent carries the ghost of a past conversation, when laughter echoes in a way that feels familiar, even after years.

    • A stolen glance across a crowded street.
    • The way fingers brush against each other just before parting.
    • The echo of a name, unsaid, but known.

    These things do not belong to the past. They are carried forward, tucked into the corners of our being, surfacing when we least expect them.

    Not everything is meant to last forever. But some things—some things never leave.

    Wabi-Sabi and the Impermanence of Love

    Wabi-sabi tells us that beauty is not in permanence, but in transience. That things do not need to be whole to be meaningful. That a love that once existed is not less valuable simply because it no longer does.

    • A moment does not need a future to matter.
    • A connection does not need permanence to be real.
    • A love, brief as it may have been, does not lose its weight simply because it no longer rests in our hands.

    We do not have to hold on to everything.

    Some things, we carry within us, always.

    Lessons from a Sunlit Afternoon

    • Not all love is meant to last. Some is meant to be remembered.
    • A moment can be eternal, if it leaves its shadow in your soul.
    • Some people never leave you. They just exist in another form.
    • There is beauty in knowing something was real, even if only for a moment.
    • Love is not defined by time, but by the depth of what is felt.

    The Light, the Laughter, the Moment That Stayed

    The market carried on. A merchant called out his prices, a group of children ran past, their sandals slapping against the hot stone. Somewhere, music played—faint, distant, the kind of song that felt like it had always existed.

    She turned back to him, tilting her head in that way she always did, waiting for him to say something clever, something light.

    But he only looked at her.

    Because sometimes, there is nothing to be said.

    Because sometimes, a moment is already enough.

  • A Thorned Fairytale. 35

    A whisper through thorns—
    Petals lean into the wind—
    Blood stains pale fingers.

    There are thorns between us, sharp and silent. They rise like unseen walls, delicate and cruel, growing around us even as the scent of flowers lingers in the air. Above them, roses bloom—white, untouched, as if they do not know the roots from which they came. And yet, if I reach for you, if you reach for me, we will bleed.

    The Beauty and the Thorns

    Love is never just the flower; it is the thorn as well. Those who step into the garden unaware see only the petals, soft and inviting, unaware of the sting hidden beneath. They believe in beauty without pain, in closeness without risk, in love without cost. But love is not a fairytale without consequence. Love is the bloom and the wound, the perfume and the scar.

    We move forward, hands outstretched, knowing the price. The wounds are sharp, but the scent of roses is intoxicating, pulling us onward despite the sting. It is this tension, this exquisite pain, that makes love real. Without the thorns, would the flowers matter at all?

    The Cost of Reaching

    There is no love without the risk of pain. Hands entwined too tightly bruise. A grip too firm will crush what is delicate. And yet, to never reach, to stand unmoving, is to let the garden grow wild and untended, a place of beauty untouched, but lifeless.

    To love is to accept the inevitability of wounds. It is to know that roses may cut, but their bloom is worth the risk. It is to believe that pain is not the enemy, but the proof of something real.

    How to Hold the Roses

    1. Love with open hands – Do not cling too tightly, or you will destroy what you cherish. Let love breathe.
    2. Accept the thorns – The closer you get, the more you risk. Love anyway.
    3. See the whole garden – Love is not just the perfect blooms; it is the wild vines, the roots, the hidden growth beneath the surface.
    4. Let love change you – You will not leave unscarred, but those scars will tell a story worth keeping.
    5. Wait for the new blooms – Roses will fall, petals will scatter, but the garden always finds a way to bloom again.

    We stand in silence, hands marked by the passage through the thorns. The ache in our fingers tells the story of every time we reached for something beautiful, and the price we paid for it. Yet still, we wait—not for pain to disappear, but for new flowers to bloom, for the garden to offer us, once more, something worth reaching for.

    And so we stand, not untouched, not unbroken, but waiting. Waiting for the next bloom. Waiting for the red roses to come again.

  • The Weight of a Tear. 20

    A single drop falls—
    Salt staining an endless sea,
    A universe weeps.

    It was dusk when I first noticed the woman on the train, her face tilted toward the window as if the scenery outside held all the answers. A single tear clung to her cheek, shimmering in the golden light before it disappeared into her scarf. The moment was so intimate, so unguarded, that it felt like a scene from a dream. I turned away, unsure if witnessing it was a gift or a trespass. But that tear lingered in my mind, its weight more profound than I could explain.

    The Language of Tears

    Tears are not just water; they are language. A silent, primal way of expressing what words cannot contain. They carry salt, the same salt that lingers in the oceans and our blood. Tears remind us of our shared fragility, our shared humanity. They are, in their essence, a bridge—connecting pain and release, sorrow and resilience.

    There’s a kind of beauty in allowing ourselves to feel deeply enough to cry. Society often demands composure, urging us to hold our emotions tightly. But tears are not weakness; they are truth spilling over the edges. To cry is to be human, to honor the unspoken weight we carry within.

    Pain That Expands

    There are moments when life feels like a salt flat—vast, barren, and unrelenting. The weight of pain stretches across us, thin but expansive, covering everything we touch. These are the moments when even breathing feels like a burden, when the smallest task seems insurmountable. But within that pain lies a paradox. Like salt, it preserves as much as it stings. It teaches us to hold on, to adapt, to endure.

    Pain, when embraced, doesn’t diminish us; it expands us. It stretches our capacity for empathy, for understanding, for love. A person who has cried deeply knows the value of joy, just as a parched traveler treasures water. The salt of our tears enriches us, even as it marks the edges of our vulnerability.

    The Strength in Release

    We often mistake strength for stoicism, for an unyielding ability to push forward. But true strength lies in knowing when to let go. To cry is to release the pressure, to admit that something matters deeply enough to hurt. Tears cleanse us in a way nothing else can, carving channels for healing to begin.

    A single tear can hold the weight of a thousand moments—a love lost, a dream shattered, a hope rekindled. And yet, the act of crying reminds us that we are not static. We are rivers, ever-moving, shaped by the terrain of our experiences but never confined by it.

    Tears, fleeting and raw, are a testament to our aliveness. They mark us not as broken but as whole in our incompleteness.

    Think of a raindrop splashing against a cracked window. The crack doesn’t diminish the drop’s beauty; it frames it, giving it depth and context. So too with our tears. They don’t weaken us; they reveal us, painting the landscape of our emotions with salt and light.

    A Lantern in the Rain

    As the train pulled into its final station, the woman wiped her cheek and stepped onto the platform. She didn’t look back, didn’t falter. Her tear, though gone, felt like it had left something behind—a trace of resilience, of life continuing despite its cracks. I stayed in my seat, letting the moment settle like dust in the fading light.

    Sometimes, the most profound strength comes not from holding ourselves together but from allowing ourselves to fall apart. In the salt of our tears lies the courage to begin again. Like the ocean, we ebb and flow, each wave carrying the weight of a tear and the promise of renewal.

  • Contradictions. 5

    A circle of hands—

    Each touch leaves a mark, unseen— The bowl holds its form.

    It began with a shared silence. A group of strangers sitting together in a pottery studio, the air thick with the earthy scent of clay. The wheel turned slowly, each person’s hands shaping a lump of formless earth into something fragile and new. There were no words, only the rhythmic hum of the wheels and the occasional sound of water dripping into a basin. As I watched, I realized how deeply each bowl reflected its maker: the uneven edges, the thumbprints pressed too hard, the slight tilt that defied symmetry. Together, they filled the room with imperfect beauty—a reminder that no creation stands alone, and no creator is untouched by the hands of others.

    Embracing Differences

    There’s a subtle kind of power in the act of looking at a person—or at yourself—and saying, “It’s okay to be different.” Not just okay, but necessary. Life isn’t a factory line of identical pieces. It’s a patchwork quilt, stitched together from contrasting fabrics, uneven patterns, and mismatched colors. That’s what gives it texture and warmth.

    For years, we’re told to conform. Follow the rules, fit in, smooth out your rough edges. But here’s the irony: the very things we’re taught to hide or fix often turn out to be our greatest strengths. That scar on your knee from a childhood bike crash? It’s a reminder that you’re resilient. That strange hobby you’ve always been embarrassed to share? It might be the thing that connects you to someone who truly understands you.

    Differences Are Mirrors

    When you meet someone whose thoughts or actions challenge your own, it’s like standing in front of a funhouse mirror. You see your reflection, but it’s stretched and distorted, showing you angles you’ve never noticed. Differences, whether in others or within yourself, force you to reconsider what you thought you knew.

    Some of the most innovative ideas come from unlikely combinations. A poet learns to code. An engineer takes up painting. A chef experiments with flavors from a culture they’ve never experienced firsthand. The friction between what’s familiar and what’s foreign creates sparks, and those sparks light the way forward.

    Why Flaws Are Hidden Treasures

    Flaws are like the knots in a piece of wood. At first glance, they seem like imperfections. But when the wood is sanded and polished, those knots become the most interesting part of the grain. Your flaws, your quirks, and your idiosyncrasies—these are the things that make you human. They’re what give you character.

    When you stop trying to sand down every imperfection, you make room for something remarkable to happen. You become more real, more approachable. People aren’t drawn to perfection; they’re drawn to authenticity. And authenticity comes from embracing who you are, flaws and all.

    Finding Your Niche

    Leaning into what makes you different isn’t just about self-acceptance—it’s a strategy for success. Your unique combination of experiences, skills, and interests is a key to unlocking opportunities that no one else can. The world doesn’t need another copy of someone else; it needs what only you can offer.

    Take time to explore what makes you truly unique. Maybe it’s an unconventional skill, a passion that seems niche, or a perspective that feels out of step with the mainstream. These qualities aren’t obstacles—they’re assets. In fact, the more you embrace your uniqueness, the more likely you are to find a niche where you not only fit but thrive.

    Consider how many great businesses, works of art, or scientific breakthroughs began because someone followed a path that was uniquely theirs. A love for comic books becomes a blockbuster film franchise. A fascination with insects leads to groundbreaking research. A childhood spent tinkering with gadgets turns into a revolutionary invention. Success often lies at the intersection of what makes you different and what the world needs.

    How Embracing Differences Helps

    1. Builds Deeper Connections: When you’re open about your flaws, you give others permission to do the same. Vulnerability creates trust.
    2. Fosters Creativity: Differences—whether in perspective, background, or personality—lead to fresh ideas and unexpected solutions.
    3. Encourages Growth: Seeing the value in other people’s uniqueness helps you appreciate your own, encouraging self-acceptance and personal development.
    4. Strengthens Resilience: Recognizing that flaws are a natural part of life helps you approach challenges with more patience and less self-criticism.
    5. Unlocks Success: By leaning into your unique qualities, you can carve out a space in the world that is entirely your own, a place where you can shine.

    Your flaws and differences are not things to be ashamed of but opportunities to shine in a way no one else can.

    By embracing differences—in yourself and in others—you don’t just accept the world as it is. You elevate it. You see its beauty, not in spite of its imperfections but because of them. And when you lean fully into what makes you different, you often find not just yourself but your greatest successes.

    As the pottery studio emptied, I noticed the bowls lined up on a shelf to dry. Each one bore the marks of its maker—fingerprints pressed into the clay, uneven rims, the occasional crack. None of them were perfect, and that was their strength. Together, they told a story not of perfection but of presence. They were a testament to the hands that shaped them and the differences that made each one irreplaceable. I stepped outside, carrying my own imperfect bowl, and felt the quiet strength of a world built on contradictions.

  • The Art of Living / a fleeting moment. 3

    Time flows like water through hands— all we can do is watch the light in it and feel the water

    This memory began on a quiet evening when the city seemed to hold its breath. I was sitting on the edge of a fountain in a nearly empty square, the water rippling under a faint breeze. A street performer nearby played a soft, uneven melody on an old violin. The notes wavered, imperfect yet haunting, as if they carried fragments of a story too fragile to tell outright. It struck me then: life—like that melody—is not about perfect execution but the resonance it leaves behind, fleeting yet deeply felt.

    A Long and Free Life

    A long life is not enough. What makes it worthwhile is how you live it. A life filled with freedom, health, and the courage to embrace its fullness is what gives it meaning. This blog is not a blueprint but a compass, guiding you to leverage every lesson, every mistake, and every moment of grace to make your journey richer. Each chapter is a reminder that life is both fleeting and expansive, and the way you fill its spaces is entirely up to you.

    To live freely means to cast off the unnecessary weight of expectations—those imposed by others and those you impose on yourself. It means choosing a path not because it is easy or well-trodden but because it resonates with who you are. Freedom is not a destination; it’s a way of moving through the world, a refusal to be bound by fear, regret, or inertia.

    The Foundation of Health

    Health is the foundation of everything. Without it, freedom becomes a shadow, and time feels heavy. To live a full life, you must tend to your body and mind as you would a delicate garden. Eat to nourish, move to energize, rest to rejuvenate. Health isn’t about perfection or restriction; it’s about balance, about giving yourself the vitality to pursue the things that matter.

    Mental health is just as vital. The mind can be a sanctuary or a storm, depending on how you care for it. Feed it with curiosity, challenge it with new ideas, and soothe it with moments of stillness. A healthy mind sees possibilities where others see limitations. It turns lessons into leverage, transforming each experience into a stepping stone toward something greater.

    Leveraging Your Learnings

    Life doesn’t hand you wisdom fully formed. It comes in fragments—in the quiet epiphanies after failure, in the patterns you notice after reflection, in the stories that resonate long after they’ve been told. The challenge is to piece those fragments together, to build something that enriches not just your life but the lives of those around you.

    Leverage is about using what you’ve learned to lift yourself higher. It’s about turning hindsight into foresight, using past mistakes to inform future decisions. Each lesson, no matter how small, has the power to shift your perspective, to open doors you didn’t know existed. But leverage requires action. Knowledge is inert until it’s applied. The bridge between learning and living is choice—the choice to do, to try, to risk.

    How to Live Fully

    1. Prioritize Your Health: Treat your body and mind as sacred. Without them, the rest falters.
    2. Seek Freedom: Let go of what binds you, whether it’s fear, regret, or the opinions of others. Freedom is a state of mind as much as a circumstance.
    3. Embrace Lifelong Learning: Never stop seeking, questioning, and growing. Each lesson adds depth to your journey.
    4. Leverage Your Lessons: Use what you’ve learned to create new opportunities and overcome challenges. Growth compounds when lessons are applied.
    5. Cherish Time: Time is your most finite resource. Spend it intentionally, on things and people that bring meaning and joy.

    Life is imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete—but it is precisely these qualities that make it beautiful. A long life is not about perfection but about presence. It’s about seeing the cracks and shadows not as flaws but as part of the design. It’s about understanding that a single moment of fullness can outweigh years of emptiness.

    Life is imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete—but it is precisely these qualities that make it beautiful. A long life is not about perfection but about presence. It’s about seeing the cracks and shadows not as flaws but as part of the design. It’s about understanding that a single moment of fullness can outweigh years of emptiness.

    As I rose from the fountain’s edge, the street performer’s melody lingered in the air, its imperfect rhythm carrying far into the night. The violinist’s bow hesitated, then surged forward, as if the song itself was wrestling with its own meaning. The square was still quiet, the ripples on the fountain’s surface catching the soft glow of the streetlights. Life, I realized, is not about perfect harmony but about the echoes it leaves behind—the uneven notes, the unexpected pauses, the stories carried by a fleeting tune. In its imperfection, life resonates—fragile, fleeting, and infinitely beautiful.