Chasing the moon

For some time now, I've been lost in darkness. Afraid of doing anything. Feeling stuck and stagnant and on nights like tonight, I find myself staring out into the sky, looking for a gentle reminder that amidst all the chaos and uncertainty, there is purpose. I gaze into the openness and am reminded that I am but a tiny speck in the universe; that there is something much larger than myself. 

Looking at the sky on a nightly basis can develop into a habit. I would like nothing more than having something apart from me to become a part of me. 

During my childhood, I believed that the moon was following me while I sat in the backseat of the car. As I grew older, I passed it off as a product of my imagination. Unbeknownst to me, the moon has actually been following me my entire life. And in thinking about it now, I am comforted whenever I see the moon - often times chasing it's moonlight myself. 

Whenever I look out of the car window, there's a certain feeling that occurs deep within me as the clouds recede in the light of the moon and stars start to take shape. Yes, they are a little different. The moon rises and falls over a different set of trees or mountains. It's beauty illuminating the darkness, as if showing you what could be. 

And some nights I can't even spot the moon. Once full and bright and close, could easily become enveloped in the darkness as the sun no longer can touch it and you are left with a sky that is incomplete, seemingly, yet, like a reliable friend, it is still there, hidden in the shadow - but still there, nonetheless. 

In all its phases, in all its glory and all its shortcomings, the moon represents change and the phases of it. The moon, like the literature, waxes and wanes, and lifts you up to heights unbeknownst to you, and casts you down to depths just the same. There is good and bad; there is good in the bad; there is a dark element to every ray of light, and vice versa, there is light in even the most inhumane, the most mundane, and the downright miserable. 

Even now as I write this, I am reminded that without darkness, you cannot see the light. And through the darkness and uncertainty, there are friends along the way that will help guide us through. 

What I Wish I could tell you

Tonight we had a conversation and caught up with one another. And as much as I would like to say that it was great - I can't. And I think back of the memories we had - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

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I honestly thought I had mistakenly fallen in love with you. When I ended us, I thought I was dodging a bullet. But it's been 7 months and I still find memories of you everywhere I go and I still look for pieces of you in people that I date. I still remember our first date talking about being the best side stepper there could be and I also remember the first time saying "I love you" to one another. I loved the feeling of having butterflies in my stomach and the thought of endless possibilities with you. I definitely miss those moments of comfort and that energy we had when we first met.

I didn't dodge a bullet when I ended us. I think I might have lost someone really special to me. I think I might have ruined the happiness that I long for these days.
You made me smile and you made me happy; but all I could focus on were the times when you made me cry, angry, or when I felt lonely being next to you - I think that was the most unbearable part - to physically feel so close to you but yet emotionally and mentally oceans apart.
But 7 months of reflection and I've realized that the good outweighs the bad. It always has and I was just too stupid to realize it.

I thought I had mistakenly fallen in love with you; but there are moments where I miss the idea of us so intensely that I've realized that falling for you wasn't a mistake. In fact, I purposefully fell in love with you.

And knowing this gives me hope that I can choose to fall in love with someone else - someone just as special and just as exciting as you were.

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After our conversation, we went our separate ways, I started realizing that I wasn't necessarily over the idea of 'us.' It was great seeing you and doing so made me think of how I am dating to get over the relationship we had and that's never a nice thing to put another person through. As difficult as it is, I'm starting to realize that I am in fact, not ready to date. The residual impact that our relationship had continues to follow me.

I would never tell you this in person - so writing it may make it easier to own. I have actively avoided all of the places we created memories in - City park, the swings, Horsetooth Reservoir, coffee shops we used to visit, Jim's Wings - these places remind me of us and it sometimes feels like opening up a flesh wound and having to experience the loss of a friend - and that has been enough for me to avoid those places. More recently, I've been revisiting those places again...and they still hurt but it's starting to feel like I could make new memories there. But truth be told, there's a part of me that wants to leave Fort Collins because I don't want to go through this process of going to places where we've created memories. Maybe I don't want to forget them or maybe I don't want to feel the sadness in my heart again. It's not because I started talking to someone new... far from it actually.


Whatever the reason, I hope you know how much you've changed my perspective of love and what it means to be in a relationship. I know that we won't be getting back together AND wouldn't be amazing if we found a better, much more fulfilled love than we had? I guess that's what I want to find and it's definitely much harder knowing that my favorite places are also places you and I have had special moments in.

Remembering Wonderful

I'm starting to forget certain things. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you smelled - it's all becoming a blur. I can't feel your presence nor can I hear your voice. It's almost as if you are gone or never existed at all. 

However, the one thing I'll always remember clearly are the nights you fell asleep early to wake up at 6 in the morning, get ready for work, and you kiss me goodbye. ~6 AM is my favorite time, and honestly, I think I fell in love with it more because of you. 

It's been a while since we've spoken, and truthfully, if I have to be honest with myself, right here, right now, I don't think we'll ever have another one of those moments. Maybe somewhere deep in my fantasy or a dream, but in this universe, I know that I won't hear your laugh or voice or see your name on my phone again. A part of me dies every time I tell myself this and another part of me survives while knowing it.

Please do me a favor though; whoever you do decide to wake up next to at 6 AM, I hope they know how wonderful you are. And I hope you'll think of me too, and remember me. Please remember the boy you once met and fell for. And I hope you wonder about the man he has become. 

He is just as wonderful as you are. 

Acceptance

There's this feeling within me that I can't quite understand. It's a feeling of overwhelming sadness. Yet there is peace and acceptance. Some call this grief. In the Japanese language, this feeling is known as:

mono no aware (物の哀れ). 

In translation it means the pathos or deep feeling of things and the acceptance of transience and impermanence - a beautiful sadness of appreciating what once was and is no more - like the colors of autumn leaves right before they fall, the changes of the moon, or the absence of family, friends, and lovers. 

This term stresses the impermanence of life and that we should willingly and gracefully let go of our attachments to transient things. Mono no aware recognizes that the beauty of something (whether a person, an object, or even a moment in time) is dependent on its transiency, in a way that would be missing if we knew that it would last forever, similarly to how we often take for granted the mountains or the oceans in front of us. 

My new tattoo is a representation of this phrase. It is the appreciation of an experience, the acceptance of loss, and the excitement of whats to come. In my own processing, I've realized that there is great romance in walking away from something - the passage of time; in death, and in loss.

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When I was four years old, I said goodbye to my home in the Philippines. Though my heart was weary and fearful at the same time, I was also excited for a new life in Hawaii. At eight years old, I moved again and said goodbye to a home, a feeling of familiarity, a place where I learned to ride a bike and where I found my first friend.

When I was 17, I said goodbye to my family as I flew out to Denver for college, leaving behind the comfort and safety of a community. At first, the nights were cold, my heart felt empty, and my bones felt hallow.

At age 23, I fell in love with a boy who sheepishly fell in love with me too. And at age 25, I said goodbye to that lover, and as I protected my heart, I encased it with sleepless nights, empty kisses from strangers, and drunken stupors, but yet, there was room in my bed to feel his absence.  

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Months later and here I am. In reflection, I've learned to accept my relationship for what it was and move forward. I am still processing and healing, and I am sitting in the pain and sadness of this recent loss - but most importantly, I am okay. 

Unfortunately, there are nights where I still think about the love and the life I had with him. But not in a heartbreaking, head turning, bed tossing, aching kind of way. It's more of an acceptance, a closure - of where we happened and how real it felt in that moment. But now we no longer are.

I am sad but also grateful for the experience - the essence of mono no aware. Like shattered glass, I pick up the pieces of my life and move forward. As my tattoo depicts, I, similarly to a lotus, grew from hardship and murky waters. At the same time, I am like a bud, willing to grow, learn, and experience. The owl is of a different story - it signifies knowledge and a way forward. It is unfinished...like myself.

And during each moment of my life, when I had to say goodbye to each phase or experience, their absence gave me more substance than they ever had. So to anyone reading this who may need to hear it. Sit through the pain because there is beauty in accepting transience and impermanence.

I'm still figuring this out for myself, but this process, although difficult, has only made me realize to be grateful for the moments I can call my own.