dwayne.yawned

 “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.” “The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” “I want to see you. Know your voice. Recognize you when you first come ’round the corner. Sense your scent when I come into a room you’ve just left. Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. Become familiar with the way you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. I want to know the joy of how you whisper “more” “I said to the night, “If you are in love with the moon, it is because you never stay for long.” The night turned to me and said, “It is not my fa...

It’s rarely ever a You Problem, or a Me Problem.  All problems are US problems as it takes 2 hands to clap, and 2 parties (or 3) to resolve.  We need to all take ownership in it and be there to account for ourself and each other’s actions towards growth and community. Interaction, Intimacy and Initiative are KEY towards solving the challenges of love.  #strive

(11) Seafaring a short story by nicholaiv Atop an islet, a jagged tip of a submerged cluster of volcanic profusions thrust from the ocean floor, sits a man. Lines of salt have already begun to form on his dried and bare shoulders, which have darkened and reddened in the beleauguering light of a clear mid-afternoon. He looks onwards where enormous tankards and cargo ships with names of countries are minitiaturized and misted and grayed by distance, and the black unevenness of the horizon signaling land sits tauntingly beyond the still vessels. In adrenaline's calming afterglow, the whip of the waves and the warmth of the sun, which hangs in the sky like an angry eye, and the hallmarks of gray industry and man in the distance, hum with power.  This little rock he's currently perched on seems a fated coincidence that saved his life in his 6 hour long international swim; as his strength was failing, it appeared; and for a moment he feels his journey is as monumental as the shifting...

Love is a choice,  Love is a skill.  Love is having  the tough conversations,  and finding in them  the thrill.  #lovemusings

I used to be  an unstoppable force  Now  I am  an immovable object.  #states

Lying in bed, feeling horrendously bloated, with zero motivation to get up and start exercising.. and I have to think about what got me into this state.  A huge meal of chicken cutlet, mushroom soup and a side of Indian rojak.  The perpetual state of food coma is something we are quite familiar with, yet it goes much deeper than that - we spend our hard earned money to overeat on dirty, fast and expensive food, not realizing it’s level of inflammatoriness and the effects that it can have on our basal metabolic state and rest state.  What we put into ourselves matters.  In the same vein, when we ingest thoughts of negativity, ego and pain body, this puts us into a Life Haze. If we aren’t even watching what we eat, then how can we be watching what we listen/speak/feel?  If you eat light, eat clean, it translates to feeling light feeling clean and being light being clean.  Never again, Indian Rojak!!  #consciousness #consciouseating

(8) Painting the Morn a short story by nicholaiv There's an asymmetry to us in the mornings. I imagine how it would be rendered by an artist: from above, me in my corner wrapped around the metaphysical hole in my heart; and you, turned in the opposite direction, far, far away in your winter palace of pillows and sheets.   This morning, you wake up and I stir. You feed the cat wrapped in the silence of a gray morning. The bathroom light clicks on, and I hear the running of a faucet. A calm drifts through my roused consciousness as the awareness of you in motion registers, but it has a melancholy aftertaste.   Today is not just today. This morning is every simple morning we've shared, waking up in our bed. To continue with the metaphor of the artist: they're all overlaid on top of each other like sketches on wax paper done by the same practiced hand; no two mornings are the same but as more sketches are made themes emerge. These themes are the impressions of our relationship ...

(7) Sugar a short story by nicholaiv An older man well into his 60s was sitting at an outdoor table in an old corner coffeeshop that faced a small but active intersection; it was one of those ancient coffeeshops that had been renovated a dozen times in its half-century of life but could not scrub itself clean of its original grime, which had sunk too deep into its foundation. A cane, presumably the old man's, was leaning against a chair that was pulled close to him.  Across from him was an empty and worn orange seat. A newspaper was laid on the table in front of him; a visible title in bold letters read: "42 Dead in Freak Fire Escape Collapse."  It was one of those interchangeable bright weekend mornings with the congenial peace brought on by the gentleness of its breezes and relative freedoms. Young couples hung off each other in self-conscious pride. Aerodynamic cyclists gathered their wits and bicycles on the grass. Toy dogs trotted along with territorial purpose on lo...

Symmetry is a cat  love triangle; Symmetry is the 23rd  of every month this year;  Symmetry is a third’s  seamless fit; Symmetry is that  formless bit so integrated it’s  non-existent.  Symmetry is Symmetry is Symmetry is dwayne.yawned  #poem

Note: Monglin = ML = My father.  Had a nice breakthrough conversation with ML and Kar tonight at the dinner table. He’s really been regaining some level of clarity and lucidity with the #FatFathervention and after losing weight.  Nowadays, he watches his meals, self weighs in and goes for walks with Michelle. There’s loads of encouragement all around and all it takes is a spark of conscious choice.  Kar, who is usually blackfacing him once he goes into an unconscious tirade about food, revealed today at the dinner table all the traumas he has inflicted on her childhood - including his raised voice causing PTSD when she sees intimidating people or when having to public speak, or incidents such as breaking into school in the middle of the night to retrieve a missing textbook after crying non stop and getting disciplined by him.. It was a moment of vulnerability and ML acknowledged it with an Asiaworks quote of “your parents love you, they just haven’t been taught how to do ...