Broken clay jar, Love, A love letter torn apart. Message of a heart—
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How broken you are, I will always love and respect you as a clay jar that records history and memory, in the hands of an ignorant they become waste and rubbish, in the hands of wise lessons and wisdom.
I’ll take your broken clay jar to kintsugi craftsmen in near future trip just in case they can also repair broken clay jar. 🤭
Otherwise, I’ll keep it in my mini cabinet of curiosity to be a reminder that a heart is so fragile or so broken and so worth handling with care.
Journey, Beloved, Counting every blessed milestone; Deletion of doubts—
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My personal definition of Australia: where beer is consumed more than water. It might be wrong to others but that was what I saw with these very eyes with no doubt. 😎
Anniversary, Happy! Thank you, second home. Row, row, row your boat.
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Thank you for becoming my shelter and taking care of me.
Singapura’ National Daya view of my nesta view of today’s stairs toward workplacea view of my tracka view from Japanese classrooma view of home back there
Orange, Beloved, Mixture of red and yellow; Calmly encouraged
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Orange is the color of joy and creativity. Orange promotes a sense of general wellness and emotional energy that should be shared, such as compassion, passion, and warmth. Orange will help a person recover from disappointments, a wounded heart, or a blow to one’s pride. (excerpted from BournCreative)
Garden, Beloved, Where word playful finds its vibe; The world as it does—
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It’s been either raining or working for the past two weeks and I haven’t gone biking or walking again. How I miss seeing the children play as if only game is there in life, adults jog or walk racing with the wind to get rid of fat, elderly chat as if only words can extend their life, lovers show affection as if the world belongs to them and others rent, the birds fly home chirping high tone thanking for today’s, mosquitoes start buzzing to hunt sugar, once in a while fish hop up to breath the raw air, dragonflies perch on the green grass without moving!
Listen, Beloved, Humming angels keep singing Song of union. Ears can’t hear, too low a voice. Heart can, swayed by the wind though.
Root deep, Beloved. The song vibrates in the earth, Making grass and flowers bloom, Brightening up the meadow— Listen, Beloved.
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It takes enormous patience to listen to the silence. Hey! Is it being patient or simply allowing quietness to sit where birds and monkeys are hopping and making noise?
Listening is a skill. A skill needs practices to mastery. Mastery takes time. Time takes breathing, in, out, with awareness.
The wings, Beloved, Grown from fluid that fasts and sleeps; Perching butterfly—
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I call it journey, you call it metamorphosis. I call it idea, you call it egg. I call it maturity, you call it a born chrysalis. I call it manifestation, you call it developed butterfly. I call it love, you call it commitment. I call it this, you call it that. We look one thing from different points of view and describe it with different disciplines. In fact we are talking about the same thing.
Then….
You see a butterfly perching on my shoulder, I see a messenger bringing me a love letter from my beloved telling me:
“Hello, my love. Relax. You are safe. I’m here with you.”
A name, Beloved, Sound of rustling, not the leaves; My mind sees leaves though.
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After more than two years, we finally gathered here for a dinner that was misunderstood. Most of us thought it was Thai food seeing the name of the restaurant “Thai Village” but then we found it was Chinese food restaurant that has been here for more than 20 years.
It didn’t matter at all! Just no pork for me. And the talks and laugher did matter much more to all of us.
Oh, name…. You’re not my beloved but you can bring my beloved here. 💝
Thanks for the rendezvous!
Only Hideaki and Sab knew it was Chinese food restaurant because they are Singaporean born and raised in Singapore. The rest got fooled by its name 😄
Witness, Beloved, Umbrella in rainy days, Locked door in dark nights—
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Still celebrating my hair!
Not every woman likes growing long hair. I do love it. I did short hair in some period of time: senior high school when short hair gave privilege to be called “not too girl” and some recent years when busy days took away the hair time.
Now the long hair period has claimed its prime time back and ready to witness the joy shared by its owner.
May all beings be happy.
with two of those I’m grateful to for their company, witness of my determination and dedication – shortest hair everhair started showing off, witness of new habit: selfie at the home office corner before and after work 🤩longer and longer giving me comfort, witness of pillow face and no-bath work from home 😎50cm+! grow and grow, my dear hair witness of awakening 😘now I can do many things with the hair, witness of new adventure 😘
A lady is walking to the lake. An empty clay jar sits on her waist. Her hair is hanging loose, Listening to love songs, waving to the sky.
Sitting, she looks down Saying hi to her reflection on and on. My hair, thanks for growing long And for listening to my love songs.
A lady is walking back to home. A clay jar full of water sits on her waist. Her hair is waving by the wind: Spreading patchouli fragrance, calming down the lane.
Walking, she looks forward Humming her best love songs. My hair, thanks for spreading good scent And making my life so fragrant. My hair, thanks for being silken And keeping this flame ardent. My hair, grow grow long. My hair, listen to these love songs. My hair, stay here Until home is welcoming me.
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Each and every one deserves love and appreciation. Today I took longer time to scrutinise and caress my hair; this stubborn tough protein deserves love and appreciation, too.
A hymn for my hair is not too much, an extra love after shampoo to clean, conditioner to soften and sometimes hair dye to match the mood.
my definition of beautiful day: long hair after treatment at the weekend 🥰 (RC Gorman’s artwork, from Pinterest)
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