Dive, Dive, Dive.

I will always search for poetry in things. In everything.

Some days ago I had a short intro into diving. It wasn't much. Just two hours of lessons. Two hours of basic skills. In a safe environment, a pool, in a hotel, in the city.

But it triggered something in me. Something dark, something ugly, an old friend I haven't seen in a while.
 

I Was Not Magnificent

Holocene - Bon Iver

Quite recently I was asked: Do you still write? Do you still take photographs? How come I haven't seen you post anything in a while? And with a lump in my throat, I had to answer with the truth: "No, not really."

~

I have always had this odd relationship with social media and blogging, and becoming somewhat of a public persona (eek, the mere term makes my skin crawl). I've always had a difficulty treading the lines of what I can, should, or should not share.

I do not seek to be some famous person on the internet. I honestly do not like the attention. Haven't I said again and again that I'd rather be like Sumire? Disappearing like smoke under the city lights? I don't have that much followers, but there is still a good number of people who read what I write (sometimes the numbers overwhelm me; over a thousand hits, really? 1,000 views?). Close friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances, strangers. I get responses from people all over the world. Sometimes the thought makes me tremble. To be so vulnerable. To be so exposed. The thought is so horrifyingly fearsome to me. And I've vowed never to write what is not honest, so what about in times I have no courage yet to say what is true? I'd rather say nothing at all.

Why I'm Not Where You Are

Hit play.

All the places. All the people. All the roads winding, the trees singing, the songs humming. It’s been a long time, you. It’s been too long. The stories have been waiting to come alive. I, have been waiting to come alive.

How do I begin to tell you?

How do I begin to tell you about the euphoric freedom of that first time I ever jumped off a cliff—in a cave laden with bats somewhere where everything was emerald? Or that time I couldn’t hold my tears back as I stared upon the stunning view of old thatch-roofed houses quietly sitting between pine tree covered mountains in a Japan in autumn? Or that cold December night in Pattaya, where I had been feeling so terribly lonely, yet I found myself in the embrace of a complete stranger reminding me I was wonderful? Or perhaps the bliss of arriving in your favorite island again and again, always to be welcomed by the family you’ve made there and the wonderful echo in your ear as they tell you with an embrace—“welcome home”? And you melt a little inside each time because you know they are right. You are. You are home.

How do I simply begin to tell you all that was? All that continue to be? 

I have missed you. I have been missing. Whether literally or figuratively, I have been missing. That is the truth. Which is why I couldn’t return to you. I couldn’t face you half-assed. It was all or nothing. And I was nothing. 

I won’t sugarcoat it and tell you the past year and a half has been all rainbows and gardens. It hasn’t been. There were many grey days, clouded by fear, doubt, insecurities, loneliness, and longing. Longing, above all. There were many heartaches and heartbreaks. How do I even begin to tell you that rainy afternoon in Palawan and I was alone. So terribly alone. In bed, in my room, where it was raining just as much. 

I look everywhere, I whisper. I goddamn look everywhere.

The Taste of Wild Freedom

Photo: www.eyeem.com/josephgoh

All I've dreamed this entire year was to be in Chiang Mai this exact night to watch a hundred lanterns fly into the night sky. But I was in a meeting in the city instead. This is not in any way a complaint, though. I am grateful. I am. Just this year alone, this job has brought me to places and people and moments beyond I could have ever imagined.

The big plan was to finally embark on my own nomadic adventure this year that would eventually end at Yee Peng, but the universe clearly had other ideas. Although I am admittedly a little disappointed, I try to shake the bad feelings away by reminding myself that things only unfold as they should. That the universe is a cosmic flow. And I am water.

When I think about the chances—two flights to Thailand in just the past half a year I never got on and with another huge maybe waiting in the next month—it would seem that it just isn't the right time yet. For whatever reason that doesn't make sense yet, it seems Thailand is telling me to wait.

And so it is.