To me, lovely is weather that is not too hot or too cold.
It's drinking creamy rich masala staring at the rolling silhouettes of the mountains in northern Thailand. It's colorful mats to sit on and the freedom to spend the whole day as I please. It's supporting my body with healthy, fresh, colorful sustenance and stretching each limb until it loosens. It's unapologetically occupying my own little space of the universe in those rare moments when I feel just right, not too little, not too much, just enough. It's the vibrant green of lush trees spread in front of me, and the pure blue of the sky, set against the soft white of the clouds. It's the bright colors of the flowers soaking in the sun, radiating with the energy of light. It's the fleeting moments when past and future blur and melt away, and all you have is now. It's the cozy limbo you feel gazing out the window of a twisting-turning van in a foreign country, as idyllic scenery rolls by, in tune with your own winding thoughts. It's letting those thoughts weave stories like spider webs in your mind, taking you places, gently setting you adrift, while you simply float on. That's lovely, to me.
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I wake up and my eyelashes are tiny icicles,
my cheeks rosy and my lips a bluish hue, my fingers slightly numb, but somehow itchy too. I gaze out the window, etched with tiny webs of frost, white on white is what I see, softly blanketing the branches, of the spiny old tree. It covers the ground I used to walk on, and the sidewalk leading out, how will I escape now, familiar paths are hidden, my head is filled with doubt, my heavy woolen blanket, roots me in my spot. Where has the sun gone, gray fog now in its place, the flowers disappeared, and the color is erased. This novel world is like a void, equal parts dark and light, filled with heavy silence, foreshadowing new life. waves crash persistently
my shore carving rivulets as murky water forges and trickles its way through my stretch of sand breeze rustles timidly blades of my grass tickling fair hairs on pale skin miniature flowers purple and yellow strain thin stems towards my white and periwinkle sky there’s no land only shades of misty blue melancholy to my left bird chirps his song in my tree cooing loneliness to match mine then soaring off to where clouds meet sea to where nothing meets everything he’s made it he’s free Be realistic child,
what you’re looking for, it’s not found on the tippity top tree branch stretching towards the sun. But I’ll climb. Be realistic child, it’s not hidden under the fold of a bird’s tender feathered wing. But I’ll fly. Be realistic child, it’s not strung up in bold print against a backdrop of shiny stars. But I’ll gaze. Be realistic child, it's not displayed in the shapes of fluffy white clouds floating lazily by. But I’ll imagine. Be realistic child, it’s not spelled out even in the rhythm of another’s heartbeat slowly drumming in your ear. But I’ll listen. Be realistic child. But I can’t. I prefer to let my mind run wild. I want to pull you
inside the cave where it’s dark but everything is clear where sunrays peek illuminating what’s real while shadows dance on the wall we watch them blur and then sharpen I want to pull you in where it’s quiet but my voice is loud it echoes and you see through my words as they tumble out and find your ears I want to pull you in where it’s calm but the air electric we breathe it in slow gulps as time slows then stops where the stars surround us in panorama shimmering far away but close enough to touch and the clouds put on a show making shapes where we are simply a universe forming Like a half-eaten lollipop
you left me discarded savored my sweetness lapped me right up Rainbow coating dissolved in your mouth slowly then suddenly I got all muddled and blended and my color ran out Now what to do lying colorless and sticky and awkwardly bent Pick me up Pick me up I’m half-devoured not all the way spent First post back to writer's group after summer break! We did a "popcorn" exercise where everyone in the group randomly calls out words as they are writing (free writing about anything) and you incorporate them into your piece. Our first word was "light". I've underlined the other words that were contributed:
The light was reflecting underneath the door, just a crack. I saw it from the bed. It covered only the smallest section of the floor and didn’t touch the walls. What was out there? Who, if anyone, was sharing this space with me? Was I alone? It was unnaturally quiet. Goosebumps occasionally pricked my flesh, but there was no wind or breeze, not that I sensed anyway. I wasn’t cold or hot. The wooden floor between me and the door, which I assumed was locked, shined dully from the glow. I felt a momentary flash of fear, but it faded quickly. Am I stuck here, or can I leave? Did I come here of my own free will, or was I dragged forcefully? Did I fight it? Maybe I welcomed it, and came along willingly. I should get up and try the door, I thought, escape from the empty darkness and see where I am. But, in here, I knew I was alone. I was fairly certain no ghosts could pass the threshold and I couldn’t remember who was out there that I’d want to see. Perhaps I’d always been isolated. I faintly remember the sensation of hands other than my own touching my skin. I think I liked it. I think it made me feel alive, but I couldn’t remember. But there had to be more than this. I couldn’t have always existed only in this silent space. I could recall the sensation of sunlight warming me, rain soaking my clothes, and snow freezing to my eyelashes. I had liked to soak in the green of the trees and the blue of the sky, trying to absorb their brightness into my own body. It wasn’t bright in here, and there was no color. I looked around, again, for a window, forgetting momentarily that I had already checked, and confirmed that no visual connection between myself and the outside world existed any longer. Except for the light underneath the door. Maybe I should get up and look under the crack. Maybe I’ll do that … maybe, tomorrow. Did I say that yesterday? What I feel is
droplets dripping gently onto that spot between my shoulders descending from a tangled mess of wet hair pulled back from my face soft sand grainy under my feet welcoming my toes to sink into its depth cool liquid swirling around me ebbing and flowing against my frame it's not the shattering beneath my rib cage from an old wound reminding me of fracture it's not the empty space aching dully filled only with lost things it's not the mad whirl of thoughts washing me up on abandoned shoreline No, what I see is shimmery sunshine glinting off turquoise creating thousands of shining little lights stretching wide in front of me sand-colored crabs barely bigger than a fingernail anticipating my every footstep scampering back to underground caves before any accidental contact a lone leaf tumbling down the beach happily succumbed to the whims of the wind on its journey it's not the image of myself replaced bit by bit piece by piece in that space in your bedroom in your kitchen in your living room it's not the way the world moves on whether I stand still paralyzed or rush to catch up it's not the picture of a girl timid, unsure looking in the mirror a slight frown turning down her lips disheartened with the reflection No, what I hear is a wonderful quiet interrupted only by leaves lightly rustling touched by the breeze distant engines echoing taking someone to or from somewhere the foamy crash of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby with varied endless tempo it's not the voices whispering that it's too late that I don't have what it takes what others have in spades it's not the sound of my own voice cracking asking you not to leave while you looked at me with sad eyes from across the bed or my soft voice telling him it was okay to go while I held his hand and he laid there eyes closed on a hospital bed No, it is none of these things It is heat pure on my skin It is beads of sweat trickling down hollows and curves It is stillness It is calm until the heady warmth disappears, moody clouds roll in, the wind picks up, the sea turns frantic, everything is darker, cooler, tense, electric, Filling my lungs with air, I ignore the signs shut my eyes stay where I am Crack
there's a crack in the cocoon it's only a sliver of light but it illuminates all of my hollow space and I start to wonder what is out there beyond my borders what is shining so brightly and how do I find it so I can shine too and then it comes back to me in a dream and I remember the feel of my feet crunching a leaf the feel of a raindrop on my skin the feel of the wind giving me goosebumps I dream of you and of her and impulsively step backwards but instead I open my eyes wide and emerge ready to discover a new world For me, Chiang Mai embodies the so-called “follow your bliss” mentality. As soon as my feet hit the tree-lined pavement, and my gaze falls on the ever-present mountain, the whole world seems to bloom with possibility in a way not so complete or full anywhere else.
I am very much a possibility-focused person, for better or worse. I can feel very connected to a moment, with a bursting heart and a head full of thoughts buzzing with life, but often the same moment, instead of having solely a stand-alone quality, has me pulsing with all the ideas of what it *could mean* or *could bring* to enhance my version of self, or align me on my authentic path, or how it will open me up for the next new experience. Or, conversely, a moment can make me shut down, or retreat inwards, or feel unable to attach to my surroundings. In that case, my brain shouts urgently at me to run (!) to move on(!). My body physically might feel drained, uninspired. It might retract, shutting down to the idea of anything but finding that new life high, that new corner of the world that *could be* where it all finally comes together. In some ways, I very much appreciate this about myself. It has led me on a journey of discovery I never would have landed on had I not so often asked myself, “What if?” or “Why not?” If all signs are pointing to feeling stagnant or unfulfilled ... Why can't I move somewhere new every single year and feel grounded, to a degree, with myself, let's face it *in my own head*, but not really in any one place, or with any one person because commitments make me feel stuck or scared? If the possibility for movement, or change, is cut off, the brightness of wherever I happen to be in that moment, loses a shade of illumination, regardless if the place, in and of itself, is magical. I like who I am when I am in a new situation, when I get to figure things out in a fresh and new way, but only specifically when that situation offers me some control, the ability to reflect fairly obsessively about how it *makes me feel*. Does it feel like I can be myself, or does it feel like I have to change or disguise myself in some way to fit into the atmosphere, environment or soul of the place? As anyone who has talked to me in any real way the last few years probably knows, I have idealized Chiang Mai and made it into this nearly mythical location where it all just falls into place. Where I fall into place. I can be myself, yet the possibilities for growth and connection seem to be around every corner as well. It's a physical feeling, and hard to deny. However, at this point of my life I think there is something to be said for not necessarily *following your bliss*, but instead, *finding your bliss*, creating it, where you are. Even if where you are seems somehow out of alignment, not so easily in sync with who you are, or who you want to be. This has nothing to do with the actual physical place, and all about what the place is for you. I always have, and still do, think there are certain places that bring out better versions of people, versions where they can blossom, find out what it is in this huge world that speaks to them most truthfully. It is okay, and probably imperative to give yourself the chance to explore a variety of styles of life, especially if something is consistently gnawing at you telling you: self, there is more...there probably is. I realize that for everyone, or even most people, this doesn't mean moving your life to a new place on a cyclical basis (though it can!), and can be as simple as trying to change thought patterns, letting go of toxic relationships, or finding a new job, or starting a new hobby, or whatever. I've always felt like these changes have to be a bit more dramatic, but I know for everyone, they don't. My point, and why I needed to write this to sort through some of those *shouting thoughts*, is that, I think my current challenge is not to run back to what feels easy. [Obviously, this is very self-indulgent, as I live in southern Thailand, and I'm having an inner crisis about whether I should move back to northern Thailand because of the difference in *how it makes me feel*, but if you can't indulge yourself in finding what makes you happy, or what you need, what is the point? Of course there is something to be said for living 'selflessly', but I think the best way to do that is to enrich your own self first, so you can best have a positive and helpful effect on others, even if this is just to listen to people and have real conversations that might have some meaning along the way (maybe rationalizing a very self-focused lifestyle here.. but still think true)] For whatever reason, something is telling me to stay where I am now, though if I were following my natural pattern, I would probably impulsively come back to where there are a bunch of yoga studios I like and a general *spiritual/personal growth/meditative/creative* vibe, and tons of amazing food and cafes, and where the city itself is greener and there are more flowers. And where there are more people, and where I might feel less lonely, and where I might find people to be more open with, and where I might not feel like I just don't necessarily fit... BUT those are all mights, and it has been good to just sort of do my own thing this time around, and be okay with just kind of figuring out who I am now, because I'm not who I was when I first came to Thailand, and I'm not who I was when I left Thailand to explore the possibility of going back and maybe falling in love, and I'm not even who I was when I decided to come back to Thailand two weeks after getting broken up with because of those voices in my head telling me to leave leave leave, because that always feels like the most natural option. I'm just me now, and haven't had a lot of distractions; it might be the time when I've felt the least connected to people, whether that means a group, or even individuals, but the most okay with that, like it was necessary. It's been uncomfortable at times, but that discomfort has dissipated and brought with it a sense of peace and a desire to just be, and let life happen for once, instead of chasing it and trying to mold it. Chiang Mai is shiny and easy for someone like me, who likes to be introspective in an environment that really encourages introspection, and offers a community where it is valued to be on a constant journey of 'finding yourself' 'or whatever', and I might very well be much more of a “Chiang Mai person” than a “Surat person”, but sometimes you just need to stay... and not chase your bliss from place to place, and just find it inside of yourself especially when something is telling you to right? |
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