Patience

buddhism, creative writing, literary, love, photography, spiritual, Uncategorized, writer, writng

Be patient, you will rise soon, as all the heavens and nature’s bosom await for their child’s birth, glancing at the sky for the first time as though the sun beaming is a promise of a lifetime with nothing but eternal light

 

-yours truly,Nicola An

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Come What May

photography, spiritual, writing

​Like a homeless child being transported into a strange land, today was the day I felt as though taking a step was the first time I had to learn how to walk. Static and disoriented, drifting and drifting. “What’s in the bottom of the wide open sea? Should I remain musing on the shore or should I plunge even if the depth is such a frightening unknown?” As a resolution, my own uttered words came with the encouraging voice of the wind “IF I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT,IF I AM STILL #WAITING,I AM AFRAID I’M ALREADY SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE WAITING”

Come•What•May•

11/27/’16

My mother took this picture anyway

-Nicola 

The Wind Speaks

creative writing, literature, poetry, prose, spiritual, Uncategorized, words, writer, writing

ru

Tonight-like every other night-I stood by my window and engaged in the beauty of silence while I looked around. The stars, oh the stars, how they always give me tender hope.

I took a deep breath and let go of all my fears and doubts; it was time to shake my deepest sentiments and tell them “it’s okay, you can come out now.”

I sent a note to the Universe, I whispered a wish to all the good spirits guarding the every existence around me.

I didn’t see it coming but just before I closed my window, a gentle wind began to fan the leaves on the trees, making a metaphysical intermission. It was almost as if there was a voice from it confirming that my wish was not taken for granted.

I do not know if it was just a mere coincidence, but it was true hope going inside my room right after I locked my window and smiled.

 

-Yours truly, N

11/25/’15

Uncategorized

image

I didn’t want to pick you like my childhood guilt never left me; there must be a deeper reason when they say “Don’t pick flowers” and I’ve always understood that true beauty cannot be possessed but I’m sorry for today, maybe it’s because I knew you were dying and that I wanted you to die in my hands.
Oh Lord,spare me from my melodrama. I am just really engrossed in my collection.