louminous-ly

[louminous-ly]

draft 4: the art of accepting and letting go

"I clung to denial, but truth’s whisper grew louder until I could no longer ignore its call." Gazing back, I realize I was constantly juggling multiple responsibilities—studying, working, and embracing each duty that arose. For a time, I thrived, buoyed by passion and the joy of doing it all. I felt a deep sense of purpose, weaving meaning into the world and those around me, fulfilling the sacred need to be needed. But then, the music eventually faded. The sense of purpose waned, my efforts seemed to vanish into the void. I was burnt out, a flame flickering on the edge of darkness. I clung to denial, but truth’s whisper grew louder until I could no longer ignore its call. For years, I was "that" girl—consistently striving, adeptly multitasking, balancing life with grace and precision. I’ve been clinging to my existence with all my strength. Imagine holding onto a rope with all your might, your hands burning with the effort— haunted by past regrets, unfulfilled expectations, lingering resentments. The more I hold on, the more it hurts. But now, at last, I've taken my rest. Two weeks—I was granted two precious weeks. In those two weeks, I learned to accept and let go, unburdening myself from the weight of what I could not change. I have finally released my grip, and a wave of relief washes over me. I opened up space for new experiences, new joys, and new growth. It’s like clearing out a cluttered room, making space for light and air to flow in. The room, once stifling and chaotic, becomes a sanctuary of peace and clarity. The pain subsides, and my hands are free to embrace new possibilities. I now grasp that life is an unending odyssey, a tapestry of moments woven from the threads of our experiences, emotions, and choices. Among these threads, one gleams with quiet significance: the art of letting go and accepting. It’s a lesson that life teaches us in the most unexpected ways, and with it comes an unparalleled sense of relief and acceptance. Letting go is not an end; it’s a beginning. It’s the start of a journey towards a lighter, more mindful existence, where we can breathe deeply and live fully. Allow yourself to be fully present. Engage with life as it unfolds, savoring each moment without the burden of the past or the anxiety of the future. A dance of balance, where you learn to move gracefully with the rhythm of life, rather than struggling against it. Slow down, take a deep breath, and in time, may we all find the true essence of peace and the unspoken relief of simply being.

[louminous-ly]

draft 3: an ode to my mother, on mother’s day

While growing up, I believed strongly that an individual could lead a fulfilling life independently. I held the perspective that one could survive on their own without needing anyone else. This belief was influenced by my mother, who demonstrated self-sufficiency. However, as I matured, I realized that, contrary to my initial stance, I deeply depended on my mother, and accepting this reality proved challenging. This realization prompted me to reassess my notions of weakness and vulnerability. Despite previously thinking that independence was achievable for everyone, I found myself grappling with an unshakeable need for my mother's presence in my life. Reflecting on it, I can't believe I ever imagined I could navigate life without my mom's presence. Without her, I am but a hollow vessel, my endeavors rendered devoid of purpose and significance. "Mommy" was the first word I uttered in this world. She was the first person with whom I shared my heart, the first to know who broke it, and the first to cherish it. It's strange to realize that my mom has known me my entire life, yet I only met her when she was already forty. Growing up, I often found myself curious about her childhood, teenage dreams, and even her first kiss. I have been asking her more questions about her life before she had me because the older I get, the more I want to know about my mom as a person rather than as my mom. Things she loves, things she loved, dreams she has, dreams she had. I often tell people that, despite any misfortune in my life, I hit the jackpot by being born to my parents, especially my mother. The longest, strongest, and most vital relationship and friendship in my life belong to the woman who gave me life. I sometimes tell my mom that perhaps my true purpose in life is to know and love her. I may never understand what it means to be a mother, but I do know the depth of being loved by mine. She embodies selflessness, kindness, and unparalleled wisdom. I journey through life with the confidence that even if everything crumbles, I have someone steadfastly behind me, ready to catch me no matter what. She has cradled my broken pieces, dried my tears, and mended me countless times. Her forgiveness knows no bounds, and her heart spans oceans, always reaching out to me, the anchor to which I will forever return. She understands my deepest desires and knows what truly makes me happy. Every change in my life has been shared with her, and I wish to share my entire life with her, so she can experience the life she never had the chance to live. The life she vowed I would never endure, filled with sorrow and despair. And if I were ever granted the opportunity to proclaim my boundless love for my mother to the cosmos, I would shout it with unbridled fervor.

[louminous-ly]

draft 2: procrastination, aspiration, and a person.

Within the depths of my aspirations lies the yearning for success and accomplishment. At the heart of procrastination lies fear—fear of failure, and fear of success. I have been questioning myself: do I opt for the smoothest route or confront the agony I so desperately wish to swiftly vanish? Procrastination—a craft I've seemingly perfected—won't inch me any closer to securing my license; I know all too well. It's a route devoid of productivity and success. The past few days have been so challenging, prompting me to entertain the idea of stepping away because it's really taking a toll on my mental well-being. The truth is, I've been feeling incredibly demotivated lately, to the point where I've been unable to concentrate on my studies. I've been going through the motions, but deep down, I know I'm not fully engaged. Despite my earnest attempts, progress feels elusive. Last Saturday, I finally caught up with Life, after a long time apart after college. She kindly lent me her board exam materials, and I was deeply touched. I even felt the urge to shed tears of gratitude, yet I resisted; after all, why risk smudging my makeup with mascara that wasn't waterproof? Putting jest aside, her guidance kindles a spark within me to maintain consistent review. She succeeded in lifting me back onto my feet. Like a stone cast into a tranquil pond, the support of one person has the power to create ripples of positive change in our lives. Their words of affirmation, a melody of belief, echo our worth, spurring us on to achieve the greatness of our dreams. I’m grateful enough to have someone who gracefully reminds me of the silver linings found in life's struggles. Gratitude is indeed a powerful antidote to despair. Good news is, I've established a steady routine now. Just in the span of a single day, reuniting with a friend breathed new life into my spirit, procrastination fled from sight and igniting a fiercer aspiration within me.

PS. Hi, Life, my dearest. Should you cast your eyes upon these words, understand that my love spans every stage of my existence.

[louminous-ly]

draft 1: suddenly, you're older now.

I randomly asked a stranger for a song recommendation from their favorite artist, and they suggested "24" by Niki. It turned out to be a great song, especially the first two lines, making it one of my favorites. Its timeliness struck a chord, resonating when you've lost track of time, only to realize you've grown older, reflecting on the experiences with your loved ones, friends, and family. “I know more than I ever have. And yet, I know nothing at all”. This particular line has become my favorite because, even amidst the vast landscape of adulthood and our growing familiarity with the world around us, there remains a haunting sensation of uncertainty. It speaks to the enduring paradox of our journey through life, where despite accumulating years of wisdom and insight, we are perpetually humbled by the realization that there is always more to learn, more to understand, and more to explore. "24" echoes my experiences at 23. Funny, isn’t it? Just when you feel like you have everything figured out, life throws you a curveball, leaving you feeling adrift. You thought you had a clear path ahead, but suddenly, you find yourself questioning everything. Whether it's the career you once pursued with fervor or the passion you were eager to share with the world, even the dreams of the future, like the boy you thought you would marry at the age of 28, suddenly feel uncertain. All at once, my desires have shifted from what they were at 22. And that’s fine. I still want my dog, my friends, my mom, and my dad. Constants remain untouched by time's hand.