hi i just read my initial introduction and i am gleaming with how innocent i was in terms of… not being tainted with grief and loss.
BUT HELLO, it is me, my-the-ray-yi. I’d love to actually spell out my full government name but it is a very unique spelling and in this job market i can’t risk associating my name with being vulnerable and authentic.
I am now 28… 29 is teasing me soon. i started this blog during covid. when i had semblance of spiritual hope.
as i’ve gotten older, ive hardened, or maybe engaged in the practice of radical acceptance and detachment. but i miss how innocently optimistic i was. i do believe this is harvested at times, through spontaneous moments of childhood wonder, thereby believing the world is actually a good place. mind you these thoughts are like vapour. not as solid as the heaviness that rules me these days. nonetheless, i believe we reap what we sow, and even if what i am sowing now is mulch, rotten, smelly and ugly, the wildflowers will soon bloom. as they will for you too.
grief changes you immensely. almost like spiritual splicing. activating emotional caverns within you that were undiscovered. like unlocking your very own personal marianna’s trench. ur forced to hop on your makeshift deep sea challenger, as you unwillingly drift deeper down the voids within you.
i finally understand now, at this age, a poem that has always stuck with me ever since i heard in when i read it in “memoir’s of a geisha” (one of my favourite books and movies… and yes i know the author, arthur golden, sucks).
the quote reads like this:
At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.
and oh baby, do i feel it. do i only pervasively feel it. this feeling is 28 for me.
i dont know about you, but id rather feel 22.
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i hope to post more consistently these days i am finding myself in constant perceptual digestion.
adios for now xoxo
cognitive chaos 