A Clarification of Clarity

I prefer to experience things in my life with a certain clarity. If my perception becomes too warped or obscured, I become overwhelmed, and where's the fun in that? 

I prefer to take my time with many of the activities I partake in; such as running, eating, reading or creating. 

Like my actions, my emotions need a bit of time as well. Time to develop. Time to heal. Time to expand. 

My experiences are important to me because they make up who I am. Sometimes I let them become too important, however, and one wrong move upsets me beyond recognition. But I just have to remind myself that even the worst days have some merit to who I am as a person.

My life is not justified by my sorrows, burdens and mistakes, but by how I choose to act and deal with them.

That's how everyone should feel.

There is a certain clarity that comes with knowing oneself, to see and to reflect on one's experiences and to make sense out of even the slightest mistakes. There is some reason behind everything, whether it is good or bad, light or dark, big or small. We're all a part of this, you see.

We all know the questions.

Deep down, we all know the answers.

There is clarity to what we do and how we feel, somewhere in this vast land of living.

We just have to push ourselves and make the best out of every morning, day and night. And someday, some moment when we least expect it, we'll wake up, and we'll know for sure we've been on the right path all along.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Sleepy Ramblings Regarding Strange Habits of Mine

I had this realization recently that I've been walking through life on my tiptoes. Literally and figuratively. I thought it was only something I did when I was little, something that disappeared when I got older. But that didn't seem to be the case. Along with using an incredibly passive voice quite frequently ( ha ha ), I continued tip-toeing around the house and it completely escaped my notice until my mom pointed it out to me. Then it began bothering me. I began noticing other strange habits of mine... For instance: biting my lips till they're rather raw, bouncing my feet while sitting, chewing my nails in my sleep ( though that usually only happens when I'm super stressed )... There's probably more. And they annoy me to no avail. I made a plan recently ( or perhaps a feeble attempt ) to stop some/all of these ridiculous habits. Especially the tip toe thing. I'm going to start walking heel-toe again. And then I thought: you know what? I nee
Read more

Domenica | a poem

  Venice is paradise in summer: Lovers lay in gondolas under a lemon sun, sprawling on top of embroidered pillows and celestial dreams. Stress undresses itself on the boardwalk, leaving nothing but relaxed Venetians, who know better than to mask nature’s path. Domenica Rosa, you were there once, weren’t you? As a child, perhaps, exploring the damp stones with your violet eyes and young bones. And were you delighted? Or perhaps, like me, you kept your soul at home, safe and sound from wet ground and deep inside a catacomb carved by kitchen knives. Even so, Domenica, dear grandmother goddess of stars, stripes and pizzelles, listen to me. Hear my voice and embrace me again, for I must learn how to be as you once were: A mother weathered well for loving, a lover lost but never abandoned, a woman like Auntie Mame, with a tasteful tongue for storytelling, wrapped in nostalgia.
Read more

Socks | poem

For our birthdays, we exchanged socks like promises: I’ll protect you if you protect me . But we hated confinement, so often, we shed our socks and raced through hallways, puddles, rivers — more than common ground. We broke free of simplicity—spilled over walls like nail polish, screamed like firing guns, and ate our fill of rainclouds. For your birthday, I wear your socks, slip, fall, and think: I’ll get up for you if you get up for me.
Read more