Tag: Prose

  • What fears have you overcome and how?

    Daily writing prompt
    What fears have you overcome and how?


    Fear is a universal human experience, but overcoming it can be a profound journey of personal growth. We all face different anxieties, and learning to navigate them builds resilience and character. Here are two significant fears I’ve managed to conquer, and how those victories have shaped my perspective.


    The Fear of Missing Out (FOMO)

    In today’s hyper-connected world, it’s easy to fall prey to the fear of missing out. Social media constantly bombards us with updates on what others are doing, creating a sense of urgency to keep up with every trend, event, or new idea. I certainly felt this pressure. There was a time when I believed that if I wasn’t constantly engaged in the latest fad or exploring every novel concept, I’d be left behind.

    However, I’ve come to a crucial realization: you can’t possibly keep up with the fast-paced changes happening all around us. The digital landscape evolves at an incredible speed, and trying to chase every new thing is a recipe for exhaustion and dissatisfaction. My breakthrough came when I understood that it’s far better to be grounded in my own values and interests, rather than being easily swayed by fleeting trends.

    This shift in perspective has brought immense peace. Instead of feeling anxious about what I might be missing, I now focus on what truly enriches my life. I’ve learned to be more discerning about where I invest my time and energy, choosing quality over quantity. This doesn’t mean I ignore new developments, but rather that I approach them with a healthy dose of skepticism and a focus on what genuinely aligns with my goals and well-being. It’s about being present and content with my own journey, not comparing it to everyone else’s highlight reel.


    The Fear of Failure

    Another significant hurdle I’ve cleared is the fear of failure. For many, the idea of not succeeding can be paralyzing, preventing them from even attempting new challenges. I’ve certainly experienced that feeling of hesitation, where the potential for a misstep loomed larger than the potential for success.

    My journey to overcoming this fear began with a simple but powerful realization: as long as you are trying, you are growing as a person. Failure isn’t the end of the road; it’s a stepping stone. Every attempt, successful or not, provides valuable lessons and new insights. The act of putting yourself out there, of pushing your boundaries, inherently leads to personal development.

    I’ve learned to reframe failure not as a definitive judgment of my capabilities, but as an integral part of the learning process. It’s vital to keep pushing yourself, even in the face of a possible setback. This mindset has liberated me to take more risks, embrace new challenges, and view obstacles not as impenetrable walls, but as opportunities for innovation and adaptation. The growth that comes from overcoming a stumble far outweighs the discomfort of the initial fall.

  • Memorial Day: Honoring Heroes and Personal Loss

    Memorial Day. For many, it marks the unofficial start of summer – barbecues, beach trips, and a long weekend. But beneath the festive atmosphere lies a profound purpose: to honor and remember the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for our nation.


    A History Forged in Grief: The Birth of Memorial Day


    The roots of Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, stretch back to the aftermath of the Civil War. Amidst the immense loss and grief that permeated the nation, the practice of decorating the graves of fallen soldiers began to emerge. Women’s groups across the North and South organized these poignant acts of remembrance, adorning burial sites with flowers, wreaths, and flags.


    In 1868, General John A. Logan, commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, officially proclaimed May 30th as Decoration Day. The date was chosen because flowers would be in bloom all over the country, making it easier to decorate graves. The first official commemoration took place at Arlington National Cemetery, where thousands gathered to adorn the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers.


    Over time, Decoration Day evolved into Memorial Day, expanding to honor all Americans who have died in military service throughout the nation’s history. In 1971, Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday to be observed on the last Monday of May, solidifying its place as a solemn day of remembrance.


    Beyond the Parades: A Personal Reflection of Loss


    While the parades and ceremonies serve as important collective acknowledgments of sacrifice, Memorial Day also holds a deeply personal significance for countless individuals. For those who have lost loved ones in service, it’s a day where grief can feel particularly acute, but also a day for cherished memories to be honored.


    For me, this Memorial Day carried an additional layer of personal reflection. While I deeply respect the traditional ways of commemorating those who served, my own experience led me to a different, yet equally profound, expression of remembrance: the Shinto Lantern Floating Festival in Hawaii.


    Whispers on the Water: Honoring My Sister with Floating Lanterns


    Attending the Lantern Floating Festival was a deeply moving experience. It wasn’t directly tied to military service, but its essence of honoring the deceased resonated profoundly with my own grief for my sister, who is no longer with us.


    Imagine a still ocean at sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple. Thousands of glowing lanterns, each carrying a personal message and the name of a loved one, are gently placed onto the water. As they drift further out, they create a breathtaking spectacle of light against the darkening sea.


    For me, each lantern felt like a tangible representation of a soul, carrying with it the memories, love, and essence of someone who had passed. Watching my sister’s lantern float away felt like a gentle release, a visual representation of her journey into whatever lies beyond.


    The Shinto tradition speaks of these lanterns guiding the spirits of the departed and connecting them to the collective stream of consciousness – the vast ocean of life. It’s a beautiful metaphor, suggesting that while individual lives may end, the essence of who they were rejoins a larger, interconnected whole. The ocean, in this context, becomes not an ending, but a pooling place, a continuation in a different form.


    Finding Our Own Ways to Remember
    Memorial Day reminds us of the profound cost of freedom and the bravery of those who have defended it. But it also underscores the universal human experience of loss and the importance of remembrance. Whether through traditional ceremonies, quiet reflection at a gravesite, or finding unique ways to honor our loved ones like the Lantern Floating Festival, the act of remembering keeps their spirits alive and their legacies enduring.


    This Memorial Day, let us take a moment to not only honor the fallen heroes of our nation but also to reflect on the preciousness of life and the enduring bonds of love that transcend even death. Let the gentle glow of remembrance illuminate our hearts and connect us to those we hold dear, whether they served their country or touched our lives in countless other meaningful ways.

  • Do you remember life before the internet?

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you remember life before the internet?

    Life before the internet is a concept that might seem foreign to many, but for those of us who experienced it, it conjures a tapestry of vivid memories. I was fortunate enough to spend my formative years in the Philippines, specifically in the province of Pangasinan, during a time when digital connectivity was still a distant whisper. My childhood was not just wonderful; it was a masterclass in organic discovery, community, and the art of anticipation.

    Growing up, my days weren’t dictated by glowing screens or endless feeds. Instead, they unfolded outdoors, fueled by the boundless energy of youth and the simple joys of traditional games. Text and pogs weren’t digital messages or collectible discs, but rather the names of local street games, echoing with laughter and friendly competition. We played tumbang preso, a chaotic yet thrilling game of tag where an empty can was the coveted target, and piko, the Filipino version of hopscotch, drawn with chalk on dusty pathways. These weren’t just pastimes; they were rituals, forging bonds with neighbors and creating a shared understanding of fun that transcended language barriers.

    The world outside my home was a source of constant wonder, unmediated by algorithms. Information wasn’t at my fingertips; it was something to be sought out, discussed, and sometimes, patiently waited for. I vividly recall the exquisite agony and ultimate delight of waiting for my favorite songs to finally grace the airwaves. Radio waves carried not just music, but stories, news, and the collective heartbeat of the community. Similarly, television shows were events, not on-demand commodities. We planned our days around their broadcast times, gathering with family to watch, discuss, and sometimes, critique. This forced patience, this embrace of anticipation, instilled a deeper appreciation for content when it finally arrived.


    Contrast this with today’s instant gratification. Any piece of music, any film, any scrap of information is readily available with a few taps. While undeniably convenient, this constant accessibility can sometimes dull the edge of curiosity. Before the widespread use of the internet, if you wanted to know something, you had to actively pursue it. This often meant poring over encyclopedias, visiting libraries, or, most commonly, asking elders and experts in the community. Information was a journey, not a destination. This pursuit of knowledge often led to tangential discoveries, deepening understanding and fostering a genuine sense of intellectual exploration. The absence of readily searchable answers also left room for wonder and speculation, allowing our imaginations to fill in the blanks. There was a unique satisfaction in piecing together information, like solving a puzzle with limited clues.

    The internet has undeniably revolutionized our world, offering unprecedented access to information and connecting people across vast distances. Yet, there’s a part of me that deeply misses the slower pace, the tangible interactions, and the inherent magic of a world where discovery was a more deliberate and often communal experience. My childhood before the internet wasn’t lacking; it was rich with experiences that fostered creativity, resilience, and a profound appreciation for the present moment. It was a time when curiosity was a driving force, and the answers, when they finally came, felt all the more precious.

  • The Unexpected Poetry of the Everyday

    You know, sometimes life feels less like a grand narrative with a clear plot and more like a collection of incredibly random, interconnected haikus. You’re just just chugging along, doing your thing, and then bam – a perfectly timed gust of wind catches your hair just right, or the barista draws a tiny, perfect heart in your latte foam. These aren’t big, dramatic moments, but they’re the ones that often stick with you, aren’t they? They’re the whispered secrets of the universe, the little winks that say, “Hey, pay attention, there’s beauty even here.”

    I was thinking about this the other day while trying to untangle a particularly stubborn knot in my headphone cord (a universal struggle, I’m convinced). It was frustrating, sure, but as I finally worked it free, there was this tiny, disproportionate surge of triumph. And then it hit me: life is just one giant knot of unexpected things. Some are messy and annoying, some you have to really work at, and some just magically loosen up when you least expect it. We spend so much time planning, projecting, striving for the “next big thing.” And while goals are great, there’s a quiet magic in simply existing within the current moment, acknowledging its oddities and small victories. It’s in the way the sunlight hits the dust motes dancing in the air, or the comfort of a worn-out t-shirt, or the sudden, uncontrollable giggle fit with a friend over something utterly silly.

    Maybe the secret to navigating the beautiful randomness of it all isn’t to fight the knots, but to appreciate the process of untangling them. To find the humor in the tangled mess, the satisfaction in the small victory, and the quiet poetry in the everyday. Because honestly, those little moments are what stitch the fabric of our lives together.


    The Grand Illusion of Control

    We’re conditioned, aren’t we, to believe in the linear progression of life. Go to school, get a job, climb the ladder, buy a house, retire. There’s a certain comfort in that narrative, a feeling of control. But then you wake up one Tuesday, and the universe decides to throw a curveball: a flat tire on the way to an important meeting, a sudden downpour on your perfectly planned picnic, or an unexpected email that shifts your entire day’s priorities. These aren’t failures of planning; they’re just life doing its messy, beautiful thing.

    I used to get so stressed by these deviations. My carefully constructed mental schedule would crumble, and I’d feel a surge of frustration. But over time, I’ve started to see these interruptions not as obstacles, but as invitations to flexibility. The flat tire becomes an opportunity to listen to a podcast you’ve been meaning to catch up on. The downpour transforms the picnic into a cozy indoor board game marathon. The unexpected email? A chance to reprioritize and perhaps even discover a more efficient way of working.

    It’s about shifting perspective, really. It’s about understanding that while we can steer the ship, we can’t control every wave. And sometimes, the most scenic detours lead to the most memorable destinations.


    The Echoes of the Past, The Whispers of the Future

    Another fascinating aspect of life’s randomness is how seemingly insignificant moments from our past can suddenly echo in the present. You hear a particular song, and suddenly you’re transported back to a summer day from your childhood, the smell of freshly cut grass, the feeling of endless possibility. Or you meet someone new, and a seemingly throwaway comment they make sparks a memory of a conversation you had years ago, revealing a new layer of understanding.

    These random connections across time are like little breadcrumbs, showing us how intricately woven our experiences are. They remind us that nothing is truly lost, and every moment, no matter how fleeting, contributes to the tapestry of who we are. It’s a comforting thought, isn’t it? That even the most forgotten instances hold a place in our personal history, waiting for the right cue to reappear and offer a new perspective.

    And then there’s the future, that vast, unknowable expanse. We make plans, we set intentions, and we dream. But so much of it remains delightfully, terrifyingly uncertain. That’s where the thrill lies, I think. The thrill of the unknown, the potential for unexpected blessings, the sudden twists and turns that no one could have predicted. It’s the constant possibility of serendipity, of stumbling upon something truly wonderful when you least expect it.


    Embracing the “What Ifs” (Without Drowning in Them)

    The randomness of life also invites us to ponder the “what ifs.” What if I had taken that other job? What if I hadn’t missed that train? While it’s easy to get lost in a spiral of regret or alternate realities, there’s also a creative exercise in acknowledging these branching paths. It reminds us of the sheer volume of choices we make every day, and how each small decision can subtly shift our trajectory.

    But the key, I’ve found, is to acknowledge these “what ifs” without letting them overshadow the beauty of the “what is.” Our current reality, with all its quirks and imperfections, is the sum of every choice, every random encounter, every happy accident. And within that “what is,” there’s so much to appreciate. The resilient human spirit, the capacity for joy even in hardship, the simple comfort of a shared meal or a quiet evening.


    Finding Your Own Haikus

    So, how do we lean into this beautiful randomness? How do we find our own “haikus” in the everyday?

    Practice presence: Put down the phone, look up, listen. Notice the small details: the pattern of light on the wall, the sound of birdsong, the texture of your coffee mug. Embrace flexibility: When plans go awry, take a deep breath. Ask yourself, “What’s the unexpected opportunity here?” Cultivate curiosity: Ask questions, explore new ideas, try new things, even small ones. A different route to work, a new recipe, a conversation with a stranger. Document the small joys: Keep a gratitude journal, take photos of seemingly insignificant moments, or simply make a mental note of things that make you smile.

    Life isn’t a straight line. It’s a glorious, messy, unpredictable dance. And the more we learn to sway with its rhythm, to appreciate the unexpected steps and the occasional missteps, the richer our experience becomes. It’s a journey filled with ordinary moments that, upon closer inspection, reveal themselves to be extraordinary.

    What’s a small, random moment that brought you unexpected joy lately? Share your own “haiku” of the everyday!

  • Burning Coal

    The gilded cage, its bars unseen,

    A tapestry of what should be,

    Woven by whispers, a collective keen,

    Of how a life is meant to flee.

    A weight of glances, nods of knowing,

    The silent judgment, sharp and sly,

    A path laid out, continuously showing,

    The summit where my worth will lie.

    My spirit chafes, a restless bird,

    Against the pressure, soft and deep,

    Each whispered wish, each spoken word,

    A promise I am bound to keep.

    The air feels thick, a heavy shroud,

    Of expectations, finely spun,

    I yearn to break from this well-meaning crowd,

    And chase a different rising sun.

    Yet, in this struggle, strange and stark,

    A flicker ignites, a burning coal,

    A refusal to remain a mark,

    A captive reaching for a goal.

    For in their gaze, I see reflected,

    A strength I didn’t know I held,

    A need to prove, though disaffected,

    A story bravely to be spelled.

    So trapped I am, within their frame,

    But in this trap, a fire grows,

    To play their expected, winning game,

    And then, perhaps, to choose my own prose.

    To climb their peak, with gritted teeth,

    To taste the victory they define,

    And in that triumph, find beneath,

    The power truly to be mine.

    This fight is born of outside need,

    But in the fray, my will takes hold,

    To plant my flag, a defiant seed,

    A story waiting to unfold.