just minishorts.

The weekend was pretty good for me, but alas it's over. I don't look back and wish I could turn back time, because 'looking back' itself requires 'time' which is, IMHO, better spent on focusing in the current frame that I exist. I belong in the present, and so I don't spend too much time flipping the pages of my days-long past. The regrets of life, they don't hold me back for too long, because there's so much more for me to do. If I didn't move ahead with the days, I wouldn't do anything new except to mull and fret over what I did wrong, and the mistakes I wish I never committed.

Thus better to move-ahead then to keep banging my head on the same spot over and over again, hoping that a bleed on my forehead will make a difference to the already dismal place we call earth. It won't. What would make a difference is what I'm going to do now, next, tomorrow. The actions I'm going to take in the next minute.

So if you don't move on, I can't do much about that. If you're happy to stay in the past, well good for you, but I'm saying goodbye and leaving you behind.

I hope you have a good time watching the crumbling sand of time fall upon you.

Does it happen to you sometime? A sudden instinctal feeling that pushes you to do something, turn on the tv, take a bath, write down a recipe, write a post, something. Does it happen?

And then after it happens, do you, pause a moment, ponder on what had just happened, and wonder, was the universe finally talking to you, giving you a message?

…

I have those moments all the time these days, tiny bleeps throughout the days that stop me in my breath, and then I react, do whatever my gut tells me to, in the aftermath, when I look back, I am stunned, amazed.

…

It feels like, something, someone, is trying to tell me something.
This is one of those things.

Life is a series of baby steps, taken in tiny stumbling movements. By the time we finally learn to 'get it right', our backs are bent, hair has greyed and eyesights worn off. Tragedy, or comedy, depending how you see it. So we try hard to remember, remember why we're here on earth, why we do the things we do, say the things we say. Some seek religious escapism, trusting in a Godly figure of some kind; many cannot decide, refuse to decide, calling themselves 'agnostics', or 'discoverers',  others choose science, skeptical to the very end, and yet working so hard to 'get the facts' sorted out – except, alas, the facts are never facts, the truth is never truth – each time, something occurs – it seems real, and then that wisp of reality floats away as if in a dream. The past catches up with you so quickly, you forget you're actually living in the present, and the future, the future doesn't ever seem to make sense. So we leap before we see, trusting in empowering statements like 'Jump first, fear later', because we want to trust that by the time the fear creeps in, it's to late to pull yourself out and you have no other choice but to swim against the tide anyway. Survival's a bitch like that, it swallows you up leaving you with no choice but to be cynical.

…

Or baby steps, they can be taken in pure discovery, pure wonder, choosing to feel and excavate every sensation, every breathe, every pebble with awe, opening our eyes again and again to the constant resurrection of the new world. We're living in a world and reality of deaths, yes, but we so often forget, this is also a renewing world of births. I thought it was wondrous to remind myself of that.

Shh… in the heat, the universe is telling you something.

Can't you hear?

An opinion is not made to be owned. It exists merely for expression, and once let loose, it should be set free. And so I have learnt, that being opinionated may not be a flattering description if you struggle too much to hold on to that label – an opinion exists after all on planes of expressions, and expressions are whispering flutterbys that disappear with the soft sigh of a human breath. It is heard, said, and then *poof* it goes. The space for new opinions is created, and recreated. 

A God, or God, doesn't exist to be owned. Like something that isn't or that is, He is pure existence, a gathering of possibilities or impossibilities. Like nothing, or something, He is pure words, or pure concept, there, but not there… But because we human beings cling on so tightly to our possessions, we fight to keep God, or our concepts of what a God is (or isn't) to our own realms and boxes of acceptability. When someone disagrees, we turn to what is essentially 'pure possibility' to dictate our inbuilt moral consciences, and define people who do not agree to our rights to possess God, as heretics. And so, wars.

A human being, isn't made to be owned. We exist purely because, and we all deserve our rights to be free. And so when I met him, and I decided I would do whatever it takes to keep him, I decided to cage him up and made sure he would behave the way that I, the owner, would allow him to, I did the biggest, and gravest mistake ever. He struggled, and he fought, and in the end, like a caged animal, he decided to escape from my clutches.

We come from nothing, we live with nothing, we will go into nothing. A long time ago, someone came into this world, and made a difference while he lived. It was either a 'good' difference, or a 'bad' difference, and either way, he made an imprint while he lived. And then, time was up, and like a breath caught in the wind, he was gone. We all have someone like that in our lives, or many people like that in our lives. My grandfather died when I was 13, and but while he lived, he made condensed milk sandwiches and watery Milo for my breakfasts and took us out on walks near that house in Pengkalan Chepa. Jesus came, he lived, he died, (then he lived again, and then he left); or earlier, Buddha came, said many things, then he was gone. Muhammad lived, and he was gone. And so shall we be gone. From nothing we came into existence, and so we will go into nothing. To live rich, is to accept that we own nothing.

I want to believe that this is not just pure rhetoric. But my mind tells me that this is true, I don't own a thing, not even the man I am marrying. Our relationship exists purely because we know we don't own each other – neither of us are possessions for each other to control, in the same way, I keep my sanity intact, because I know I don't own my opinions, my thoughts… my space must be constantly kept free for new ideas to come into being, and then they have to go away to give more place for new things to come in. All of this is temporary.

Time to move on.

"You know yah, now I suddenly realize what love is about… what marriage is about. It's actually quite futile,' I said.

'And then?'

'Because I can't exactly have you forever, we can't be together forever…'

'True…'

'Because you know, one day either one of us will leave each other, either because one of us dies or something else crops up, unless of course something like that happens to us at the same time, but even if we both die at exactly the same time, we know that we will be separated eventually,'
I said.

'So morbid…'

'Yah, so what I'm saying is this lor, that because I can only love you as long as I have you, as long as I have you I will love you lor…'

Love is brief like that.