a universe of hope

I had a really bad case of insomnia last night. I was only able to fall asleep at almost 5AM. I suspect it was the sudden surge of creative energy. First it was the Ganesh drawing. Then my fingers were still itching so I made another collage. I started on a third but I was already too tired from the long day of work so I made myself go to bed. And had insomnia.

This morning the first thing I did after making myself a fresh cup of coffee was to continue the third collage. This time it's a combination of images and text.

The text came from a journal entry that I actually do not clearly remember writing. It was written while I was in Hong Kong and I'm guessing I must have written it while I was very very tired and I was just probably taking dictation from the writing muse inside me. When I read it, it feels like reading somebody else's writing. A bit weird, actually, hahaha. I picked this piece of text because it best reflected the sentiments coming from the images I have put together. Also, the fact that I could not exactly remember writing the text adds a bit of otherworldly feel to the whole piece.

The paper folds in from the sides like a window. So when it is opened, one is greeted by a forest of words and flowers.

The full text goes:

Today there was the touching of the hand. Naturally, like it has always been done. Today there were many tiny boundaries crossed. But much more remain un-breached. And still so many walls up.


Sometimes I am on the verge of being overwhelmed. Mostly by the yearning to be near.


I have ten thousand stories lined up in my head. Simple and complex variations on how it could be.


I dreaded these days. The long mornings, afternoons, and evenings of getting to know him. Of getting used to the rhythms of his presence just as I am used to my own breathing.


Sometimes I am suffused with the simple joy of his attention. And sometimes I am crushed by the little ways he does not see me.


Often I would question myself on the spot, at various moments, testing the waters of my own feelings. How do I feel at that exact point in time? There would be times when there is nothing, and I would feel relief. There would be times when there is yearning, and I would feel sadness. There would be times when there is a black void of possibility and I would feel fear. And sometimes there would be moments of very brief flashes of something akin to love and I would feel a warmth and a joy in my heart and a small part of my soul would reach out to him, an unseen hand touching his face in that tender way that lovers do.


Sometimes I get to convince myself that it is all nothing. That it was just the product of inconvenient circumstances and predefined conditions. Nothing fateful, just logic. There is no magic, no fairy tale. 


And then he does something, a little thing, the tiniest gesture. And all that nothing becomes a universe of hope.



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And now I can feel a fourth piece simmering on my fingertips. Who turned on the inspiration faucet? Not that I'm complaining. :)