Glorious, flowering cherry blossom tree.
At whose sturdy trunk we’d play, you and me,
enshrouded in soft, pink, fallen marvel.
Joyous teens! We were young, and wild, and free.
Sweet, rippling laughs, as you photographed me,
dressed me up, and told me I looked pretty.
Not a care in our sunlit world, except
feeding our need for curiosity.
Our new kittens joined in fun on the grass.
We chatted about boys and science class.
We discovered life through pure wondrous chance.
No worries of future, regret of past.
How you and I have bloomed since those fine days.
You found happiness…
Usually, I pick up the phone and laugh
so hard my nose nearly splits in half.
Not always sure what the jokes are about,
but we always smile and giggles come out.
But that day I picked up the phone and cried.
Not sure why, I was sad inside.
But dearest mum, you’re always there,
and you gave the emotion a big fat scare.
And soon the laugh was back on my face,
and all those tears were quickly replaced
with happiness and inspiration once more.
So long sorrow, you can leave through the door.
While life isn’t always peaches…
Let’s take a moment to contemplate you. You, in all of your glory. You, right here, right now, on this planet.
Dr. Ali Binazir (Harvard professor) calculated the probability of you existing at all on the odds of several factors: your parents meeting, them navigating love long enough to have a child, your ancestors doing the same, and more. He predicted that it’s 1 in 10 to the power of 2,685,000 (10 followed by 2,685,000 zeroes). Basically 0.
In short, you are a miracle.
And let’s take another moment to savour that. Really, the luck of you being alive. …
There’s this park in Barcelona. It does not appear to be particularly “special”. It’s fairly small and noisy, as it’s situated next to a main intersection. And what is most extraordinary is that we’re not allowed on the grassy area in the middle.
With picnics out of the question, everyone strolls/runs/cycles the dusty half-pathed, half-stony walkway round the outside, lined with potholes and other such obstructions, making it somewhat of an obstacle course.
This park is a six-minute walk from where I used to live, and in the middle of my old route to work. However, I always tried my…
It’s raining today.
But I have a coat,
so I’m going out anyway.
My feet are getting wet.
I look down, smile, and hope
I never forget
how lucky I am to see the drops fall,
to witness exquisite nature,
to even be here at all.
In this moment, so special.
No past, future, only now.
Small, yet monumental.
I stop a while, mesmerised,
as the water feeds our world.
And as it subsides,
a rainbow arrives to proclaim
the grand truth — a beauty unseen
if it weren’t for the rain.
I first became aware I had anxiety 1.5 years ago. A series of ̶̶u̶n̶ fortunate events, including what I know now to be a panic attack, led me to physical and mental exhaustion. And that’s when my mind decided enough was enough, it was tired of being ignored — time to reveal that deep, dark secret that would change our lives forever.
The moment hit me like a bomb. An explosion of realisation that I wasn’t the powerful, constantly in control, strong, superwoman, who only had ‘positive’ emotions, and could survive anything. Oh no. For the first time in my…
I still dream of that moment, so
deeply pure my joyous heart glowed.
A magic spark, our special place.
I realise now, but far too late.
I still dream of your remedy —
kindness, play, curiosity.
For time too short, love reigned supreme.
And I was your enraptured queen.
I still dream of that time I laughed,
and thought that life would be enough
if it were filled with this and you.
My coward heart hid from the truth.
I still dream of that time I cried,
wishing I had been honest why.
But fearlessness, I’ve just learnt now,
is worth the risk…
This year I became a “COVID-19 long-hauler”. Not one of the more imaginative or fun nicknames I’ve ever had. But then, nothing about having COVID-19 is fun.
For “long-haulers”, symptoms can last weeks, a few months, many months, and I’m afraid to say that soon this will likely be years. It’s typical that they come in waves. Huge, crashing waves that drag you under without warning, toss you around in a world of confusion and darkness, and spit you out breathless, exhausted and weakened. For me, they lasted on and off, 4–5 months. …
Writer, dreamer, marketer, mental health advocate. Awake, aware, grateful.