the yearly film

Another year has flown by.

It’s as if the fast-forward button on life was pushed, and got stuck, year after year. Sometimes, it feels as if I frantically try to pull the button out, but still, there it is zipping through the seasons one after the other. Life flashes before my eyes, scene after scene. It seems that I can’t fully listen to the lines, so grasping and understanding the script is far-fetched. So, I store each scene in my mental archive, thinking I will press replay and let the scenes marinate when life slows down a bit. But the scenes continue to pile up, and before I know it, Christmas trees are illuminating left to right.

Then, life throws especially difficult moments at us—those that force you to take a seat and reflect. We replay the scenes, and listen to the dialogue, trying our best to grasp the message of each part of this yearly film. Although sometimes, no matter how hard we study each minute of this movie, reaching an understanding seems unfathomable. Sometimes, the parts that seem the most difficult to understand will give us clarity later in life. Perhaps another year or five. Every now and then, take a break from throwing what’s in front of you in your “for later” file. Look around you and see how poetically this year is written: the beauty of finding your strength in your summertime heartbreak, the numbness of the winter blues, and the commencement of your rebirth in the springtime. Leave the door open on all of the above, not just the good parts. 

Take in the beauty of how the leaves, stubbornly and so beautifully, change color every single year, and how they wilt and dance to the ground to make someone smile at the sound of how they crunch on the cold winter concrete. The stunning intricacy of a single snowflake, it still falls from the sky, knowing its demise in melting into the earth. The rebirth of new life on the same trees, the flowers know their beauty and color will fade, yet they still blossom boldly. Before the branches can rest and catch a breath, a fresh set of leaves form their dense canopy to shade the summertime reader. 

Savor the scenes as they unfold in this yearly film, as the same lines are rarely written again. 

Time is all we have, and also all we don’t. 


on writing

it was a stormy october night, the wind blew the raindrops onto the window and the sky looked like melancholy but beautifully so, like a poem. so i wrote one.

my first ever.

the poem was on a paper towel with a lead pencil as i used whatever was in front of me. papa used to tell me about a poet who wrote down any idea that came to mind onto a wall with a rock. tip: as a writer, you must always carry pen and paper (i’d recommend a small pocket size notebook that can fit in your purse) because you bet that groundbreaking idea will flee faster than the speed of light. 

i loved how words could capture a feeling. although i was only 15 then, the magic of words really boggled my mind. within three stanzas i captured that stormy october night in our oregon apartment, and when i reread it i felt exactly as i did as if i were reliving that moment in time.

the poem was a time stamp, one that made you feel, and so palpable.

i instantly fell in love. 

in school plays, i would take my scripts and rewrite the dialogues, adding more feeling through carefully choosing the words, the placement of the commas, the ellipses, and the periods. dialogue is all about creating a feeling, as is poetry. something that resonates with the audience/reader, or the least makes them feel something.

writing has always been my medicine, more so…meditation. it is my mental escape, my safe place, my safe haven, or whatever you want to call it. 

it is truly mental magic!

in poetry, you can go anywhere and you can be anything…

you can have tea with plato, you can venture through elizabeth taylor’s closet, you can play holi with the children of india, you can swim through space, you can feel your morning coffee traveling down your esophagus, you can feel the california ocean engulfing your feet on a hot summer day, you can feel the pain of a homeless family on skid row, etc. 

the possibilities are endless, and the messages are powerful 

only when we feel do we have the need to act. a central theme in a lot of my writings is adversities and social issues. for centuries, writing has proven to be a great medium to bring awareness to social issues and poverty around the world.

as they say…

art imitates life

a tip to my fellow writers: keep a journal, write your pieces in there with a pen, even if you cross out an idea or word you may go back and like your initial thought better, so don’t close that door. once you’re ready to transfer your work onto actual manuscript form use a word processor. my advice is not to write directly into digital form. as they say “the first draft of anything is shit” so accept that your first draft won’t be your best and that is ok. if you write directly into digital form you won’t get past the first sentence. get a journal, and just. write. 

a tip to my fellow non writers: try your hand at writing. it doesn’t have to be emily dickinson or james joyce good. just get your thoughts out onto paper. these times are tough for everyone, and i’m sure there is a lot of mental clutter you can get out. it might just be your new form of meditation! 


happy writing! 


where all my thoughts reside before i type them into my manuscript. as you can see, a lot of crossed out phrases and words! writing a single poem is a process.