I own nothing.

My home isn’t mine.
It is simply where I live.

My achievements,
are gifts to me.
They do not belong to me.

My sisters are not mine.
I was born into a family.
I had no say in this.
Our paths crossed.
But I do not own them.

My feelings,
are like clouds.
They come and go as they please.

My physical appearance, it is not me.
I dwell somewhere deeper.

This body is a vessel.
Emotions fleeting.
Relationships are like waves.
Gifts, reminders.
Possessions wither.

I don’t belong to anyone nor anything.

I am not theirs.

I am.

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As the final article in my series of articles, I approached Ehsan who had also taken the plunge into the frightening world of pursuing his creative ambitions to write a segment on how he came to take this step.

Ehsan:
I sent in my 3 month notice (sealed in a blue envelope since it was the only one available) resignation letter on a beautiful morning in March. I went in, met with the director in the meeting room, and gave him the envelope. We talked about my decision for a while before I left to tell my team. On the way down, I glanced at the face of one of the animators hard at work, and I realised that I spent all night thinking that this being one of the riskiest steps I have ever taken, but to him, it was just another Wednesday.

Well that’s life for you. My leap of faith did not begin with foreshadowing that led to a huge momentous moment, but with a letter in an envelope. There was no orchestral music in the background, just the sound of my own footsteps and the fading click-clacking of keyboard presses as I went down the stairs. No applause or jeers, no end credits or a fade to black. Still, I should have totally put on Clint Marsell’s Lux Æterna on my Walkman as it happened. Goddamnit.

The next 3 months were spent writing and tying up loose ends workwise. I decided to keep the whole thing quiet and most only knew of the decision on the last month. It was great, to be honest. I spent a little bit more time with my close friends than before. I knew some of them since my first week of University, and we trudged through the heavens and hells of animation production together and personally, they were one of the reasons why I wouldn’t want to resign. Yet dreams are dreams, and the biggest regrets we have are the ones where we allow dreams to remain as dreams in our sleep.

I have always wanted to write, to tell stories ever since I read the epic drama about Peter and Jane, and their dog Pam. Still I have always chickened out, and went in a chase of more parental-approved dreams such as being a scientist, an engineer, or something-something in the field of information technology. But my textbooks were always filled with more doodles than numbers and fiction rather than facts, and I was getting more and more depressed. For a while I blamed my parents (They pushed me into this mess!), and then I blamed the Malaysian educational system (It’s still stuck in the age of the industrial revolution!), but then slowly I realised the only person to blame is, myself.

In theology they call it free will, our ability to make choices in life. I realised that I could if I wanted to, just started out in a journalism course 6 years ago, or written a novel. I could have chosen, and what has really stopped me all these years was myself. Paralyzed by the fear of what-ifs, the ultimately problems of no existence. Life is what you make for yourself, and you only get one shot at it anyway; why not spend it doing what you really want?

Now seriously, I have no idea how I will make it as a writer because you know, it is called a leap of faith for a reason. Yet I realised that I am not going into this for money or fame, but to write and tell stories of all sorts. As long as there is a medium for storytelling, be it like this article, a script, or comics, I am glad to just write for whatever reasons there are in the world.

I admit that sometimes it feels like I am constantly staring into an abyss. I had promotions to look forward to and paychecks that come monthly. Now it seems like everything is in a constant state of chaos and the future in shards to be placed back together again. One by one, the pieces have to be picked, and placed in the order I want it to be, but it will be done. After all, what do I have to lose?

And here I am at the point of the leap, before I will start to fall or rise to the sky. And I suppose well, this is the part where it gets interesting.

Geronimo.

Ehsan Azharuddin worked as a screenwriter and audio designer for a computer-animated film “Geng: The Adventure Begins” and its spin-off series, “Upin & Ipin” for Les’ Copaque Production. He then helped helm the marketing department of the company before being the General Manager of the gaming branch, LC Games Development. He is now pursuing his dream of being a full-time writer and screenwriter. You can reach him via Twitter or facebook.

His heartfelt account would definitely get those of you who are teetering on the brink of “should I? shouldn’t I?” Another article of Maria Brophy’s – Why You Should Have A Death Wish – which I re-read recently also seems appropriate here.

Life is full of surprises; some welcomed, some much less so. Circumstances may change in a blink of an eye or with a word or two and you’ve to ask yourself this, “Am I doing what I love doing, or am I just doing what I’m doing as it’s expected of me?”

I hope that these articles have in some way inspired you to look into pursuing your passions and dreams. I would like to leave you with a short poem that would hopefully give you that nudge forward.

Don’t be afraid

Don’t be afraid to express

how you feel,

Don’t be afraid to pursue

your hopes and dreams,

however futile they may seem.

Don’t be afraid to explore new

avenues and horizons,

Don’t be afraid to fight for what you believe in,

or care for,

it is always worth it in the end.

It may not be easier,

the right path is very rarely one

paved with roses and gold,

but one thing is definitely clear,

Don’t be afraid…….

(Angelia Ong, 1996)

Thank you for reading my articles and for the support. Pursue your dreams as it is what the foundation of life is made of.

One night, I spoke to the moon, when she was full.
She looked really at peace amidst the dark sky.
She appeared almost completely white, and she illuminated such light,
I was in awe. I wanted to know her secret.

I asked her, ‘ Aren’t you afraid of the darkness? ‘

The moon replied;

‘ Do you really believe that which you only are able to see? Do you forget that I glow just as brightly when the Sun blinds me? Do you only notice my existence when it is dark?

I am one in too many existing moons, but because you can only see me, you consider me special. I am special, but not for being the only one. I , have no fear of the vast darkness which surrounds me. In fact, I thank darkness everyday for my existence. We all need darkness to remind us of the light we are. From where I am in the sky, you glow so bright, possibly brighter than I am. Likewise, amidst the darkness, this is how I know you exist. There is beauty in darkness and that beauty is you.”

I walked a path for years.
It was mostly dark, most
days, I could
hardly see the sun,
for the trees, they were sheltering her rays.
There were flowers of exotic varieties.
I had never seen anything like them before.

Their colour was always a brilliant red.
Against the dark trees, they resembled rubies.
I also saw animals.
But only monkeys, swinging on the trees.
Many times I strayed from the path, as I wanted to pet them.
And many times I did.
I also plucked those flowers, as I couldn’t
keep my hands and eyes off them.
Their scent was sweet smelling like candy floss.
The path itself though, was mostly muddy,
I lost my shoes without realizing.
I never seemed to be able to walk for long.
Twice, I had stepped on quick sand.
I didn’t cry out for help, perhaps because I
never saw anyone, I had only seen monkeys.
Just as I believed I would become one with the earth,
a hand grabbed mine.
Til’ this day, I have
no idea who saved me.

This path, it has now ended.

It came to an end when I chose to stop walking.
I sat in silence, with
my eyes wide shut.

I saw a vast land
with clear blue skies.
So vast this land was, I couldn’t see its end.
The oak trees were towering and a few.
They seemed to be trying to reach the skies.
The sun,
she shone glistening rays.
I was bathed in warmth, while the breeze was cool.
I didn’t see any monkeys, only birds
and unicorns.
The birds, they looked like pelicans.
When they weren’t in the skies, I saw them swimming
in a lake.
The earth, it was filled with grass so soft,
it made my feet believe it was
walking on a velvety lush carpet instead.
Dandelions, they danced gracefully like ballerinas
flying high, doing somersaults in the air.

There was no one there,
only me. And I
loved it.

Today, I live in this land.

The path, it no longer exists.

Perhaps it never really did.

My eyes,
they fall prey to perception.
My ears,
they mostly hear what they choose to.
Touch,
often the pleasures do not imply love.
Taste, my tongue has tasted
atrocious when it looked beautiful.
Smell,
it has deceived me too.

My sixth sense,
it always only speaks the truth to me.
So truthful, it has been,
at times, I have had
to not listen to it.

Distracted by
my other senses.
Disregarding
what my sixth tells me.

My sixth sense,
It knows what I haven’t come to know, yet.
It is the light in me.

It has never failed me.
I have failed it, many times.

The most truthful,
and loyal, of all my senses,
is my sixth.
For it, is Me.

Self potraits of Rachel Burke
989 424pm

“There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.” ~ Buckminster Fuller

There are many views when it comes to the subject of our pasts.

I’ve often read and heard how the past serves to mostly trouble my future.

I’ve reflected on my past.
I’ve recognised the source of my fears.
Its roots are from my past that I project into my future.
Strangely the one future I have, was subjected to my fears of the past.
How unfair this is.
My poor beautiful future.

Yet I recognise that my past also holds goodness,
even in the not-so-good events that my mind remembers.

Its beauty lies in showing me,
how resilient I am.
How, even when I had fear live in me,
my whole being it took residence in,
it did not conquer me.
I have strength.
When I felt defeated, the past shows me,
I have courage.
Decisions that were wrongly made,
were the right ones then.
I have grown.
I am wiser.

I am still standing.
Breathing. Alive.
In one piece.
In fact, I’m in a piece more complete than I have ever been.
I have my past to thank for this.

Yes, I am of my past,
but I am not my past.
There shall always be a past.
Yesterday, a few hours ago, minutes passed.
As I write this, my past has been created.

The past, it casts its shadows on us.
And like all shadows,
the more distance we are from its source,
the smaller and less relevant the shadow gets.
Shadows offer us many gifts.
The most precious is the choice it gives us.
The choice to walk away from it.

Something the future isn’t able to grant us. Yet.

The choice is ours.

The fact is, shadows,
they only appear where light exists.

“The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.” ~ Leslie Poles Hartley

Photo by Lois Greenfield

A glowing heart
On gentle feet
Dancing endlessly
Purity beyond all worldly matter
From leaf to branch
Sunset to sunrise

The open horizons
Promising
Strength and freedom eternal
Heart no longer sealed
Hands of compassion
Embrace in abundance

Fingers that heal and love
Words of compassion and care
Visions of beauty
Transcending all wisdom
Caresses eternally infinite

Silvery moon rises… nights only hope
Constellations tell a story
A million years never to forget
Of an ancient day never to return

I met him once, years ago,

at a Film Festival in Jakarta.

A documentary about him had just ended.

He had flown in specially for us,

to answer all the questions we had for him.

The screening of this film saw people

standing and squatting along the stairs.

I had not seen so many people congregate

throughout the Festival.

But more amazed I was, when I heard him speak.

He is a war photographer.

Taking photographs in the line of fire, literally.

He holds the most awards for his work.

Gripping.

His photographs are.

Years being spent in lands of conflict all over the world,

revealing to us what we might not know, otherwise.

Photographs that need no words to it.

The story is told.

I did not have a question for him.

I gave him a note.

I was moved beyond my comprehension.

Never had I (then) seen such a spirit.

His voice was kind and gentle.

It was a strain to hear him speak, even through the mic.

How many people have I met,

and then forgotten.

But not him.

He is a living testament of what all the monks in the world

and the gurus, abide to.

He has mastered his mind.

While remaining concerned about people caught in war zones,

and living in extreme poverty, among others,

He has been able to not get caught up with his feelings for what he sees

and experiences.

I found it amazing that a person who witnessed such atrocities and hardships,

could remain none hostile.

Not a tinge of hostility in replies to the endless questions thrown at him, which mostly

were pretty superficial if I might say so. All you needed to do was spend some time reflecting and watching the man, looking at his work,

you’d have the answer.

Questions about his work intrigued people most.

What intrigued me most, was him.

His spirit.

He was kind enough to phone me.

Even asked me out for dinner .

I never met him.

But I shall always remember him.
Meeting him changed my life.

Forever.

It catapulted me in helping others.

The measure of one’s achievements and success,

it does not mean the same to me as it does to most.

What you have, is external.

Take that away,

and what is it that you really do have?

My experiences with people,

especially those who are suffering,

have meant the most to me.

For this, I shall always be grateful to him.

My note to him read :

You are an incredible Soul.
His name is James Nachtwey.

*This prose is dedicated to Leo Tolstroy and has been written in loving memory of him, who’s principle belief in life was Love.

I know Love better than I do anything other. And therefore, I’ve come to know darkness too. For in the darkest hours, it was Love who saved me.

I know the Love that lives in me. And I recognise it in others. I call it beauty. It’s gaze is amazingly breathtaking. I see it in all forms of life and it reminds me of what lives in me.

I know that Love is the only true freedom. For without Love, everything would not matter for  I would be a caged bird.

I know that being loved and loving others are the only things that matter. In the end, nothing else has the ability to  prevail, everything withers, wrinkles, crumbles. Except Love.

Love, I know you. Even when you choose to stay aloof, your eyes, they can’t hide the sliver that reflcts mine in yours. For I too Love,  I know the presence that lives in me. That which is you.

For I too Love, I am Eternity, just like you.

Once we saved a white owl which we saw at a bird market.
It was a magnificent bird,
which did not know how to fly.
It was tied to a horizontal pole. There was it’s home.

Over time we taught it how to fly.

And it did.

It now flies.

Deep within us,

we are all birds,

wanting to take to the skies,

to soar where we have never been,
but that we know exists.

We look at them,
and we think, such freedom,
not knowing,
that birds simply fly
for they know what their wings are for.

Wings,
we each have them.

But ours aren’t beside us.

They’re within us.