What keeps me alive

thestrangehertravels

When I’m not traveling to a new place, I’m probably attending an arts event. Now that’s something I would like to happen everyday, but life only allowed for it out of my usual work-home routine. Watching local independent films and gazing at beautiful artworks give me the same feeling as when I’m traveling. They excite me in ways I couldn’t explain and they leave me speechless for a moment. Sometimes I just stand there taking everything in. And it’s in those instances can I hear my heart beating so loud, so loud I am very grateful I’m alive.

 

This post is part of #thestrangehertravels photo essay project. 

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In and Out of Rizal

thestrangehertravels

January 2016 was spent going back and forth the metro and the province of Rizal. Pinto Art Museum slowed down three hours of my life for its collections with a lot of pieces just drawing you in; Batlag Falls made my early birthday celebration extra special because we were the only ones who swam on its cold and turquoise water that day; and Pililla Wind Farm blew our minds off the problems we face at that time by reminding us how big and beautiful the world is (and partly scaring us with its giant windmills).

 

 

This post is part of #thestrangehertravels photo essay project. 

a gallery 

Bitter

The beautiful creaking sound of the wooden floor as I carefully tread the empty gallery is satisfying.

It was a territory I have always been familiar with—my well-planned steps on the way to your heart.

And just like the gallery, it’s empty. 

You Can’t Force Art

Sweet

You can’t force art.

That statement has long been in my mind since I skipped blogging for a month, I just can’t seem to bring the words straight out. Since then, I have published three posts which imply that very thought. And two of them share a connection surprising enough for me to write about it.

October last year, I wrote “the pen ran out of ink,” sharing how I kept writing but stopped publishing for a while, the reason being I barely get to finish a piece I could proudly put out, and claiming that my ink needs to stop bleeding from time to time, just like my heart. February of this year, “Inks and Pain” came out, and in it I talked about struggling to produce bittersweet or sad stories because my heart stopped bleeding at once—almost as if it’s feeling no more—driving me to ask for pain when it rains, so my ink could bleed again.

It’s not just because of the ink that the connection was made (I just really like that word) but more so with the contrast of emotion from both posts which affected its bleeding. The abundant feelings of last year obstructed me to write but the emptiness of today doesn’t make it any different. Even this post took me a while to make!

Now I rarely write down ideas on tissue papers and receipts or on anything I could take a hold of, my Notes don’t receive sudden thoughts I could turn into poetry, I am lost for words and my mind is probably still on vacation.

You can’t force art, but you can force yourself not to think too much about it and try out other things and just live. And maybe then, art will introduce itself again.

lost for words

Poetry

Words
swirling around my head
My writing voice
screaming

Tone
distinctively heard
My creative hand
hesitating

P.S. You can’t force art—what I’m implying with this micropoem. I’m gonna elaborate on this soon. Wink

I’m Done

Poetry

girl silhouette beach sunset gone poem

Gone
are the words
I speak
of my love
for you
evoking
every emotion
my hollow heart
could bleed.

Gone,
I’m done.

The Heart and The Brain

Short Story

About a month ago, the heart finally decided to team up with the brain in moving on.

Both organs are getting tired of fighting each other—the heart wants to wait but the brain knows there’s nothing to wait—and it weakens the soul. The brain posted a challenge to the heart: be as pathetic as you can be for a month but let go after that. The heart agreed, but with that came the most of most pain it ever felt, which the brain thought was necessary in moving forward.

And the brain was right. It was only halfway through the month when the heart felt lighter after all those times of hoping. Yes, it felt the most of most pain, but that taught the heart what the brain has long understood, that there’s no chance and waiting will never be done.

The heart sighed and muttered: I’ve wasted my time. But the brain disagreed, “No, you didn’t. All hearts traverse different paths to healing. What matters now is you found your way. And we turned your sadness into art, which is the best thing that came out of your loneliness.”

Both organs have closed the gap between the idea of freedom and actually being free. The heart need not finish the rest of the month and the brain need not look out for the heart. They are enjoying each other’s company and it strengthens the soul, everyone is happy.

But the human to which they belong could only be free for the time being, until the heart and brain fights again.

Discover Challenge: Mind the Gap