Author: nanayniabe


Love is physiologic. Because the body and mind are a unit, bound together via messenger molecules. The blushing, the butterflies in the stomach, the knees turning jelly, are undeniable proof. Primarily, everything is a mental event, and then messages are transmitted though the heart — believed to be the seat of all emotions.

I believe that love only becomes spiritual when there’s a true commitment involved; when one is willing to deny himself for the welfare of someone he loves; when eternity doesn’t become scary, but something to be excited about; when reason starts to defy understanding.

Well, this is somewhat complicated. Love per se. That’s why we sometimes refuse to admit that we’re in love because we always fear the things that we don’t understand.

But is love really something to be understood? As for me I tried it so many times — dissecting it, analyzing it. I didn’t end up to be a love expert, though. I only got close to wanting to enter hermitage.

“When you live in your heart, magic happens.” I read this somewhere and it instantly brought me to my younger days when falling in love brought me to a fairytale land, and love was a magic want that made everything possible.

I want to live in my heart again. I want to experience love both physiologic and spiritual. I have to work my way back to that fairytale land, work my way back to being a happy person — thinking less, loving more.

If I cannot do that soon, I might as well order myself a coffin.


Dying Fairy

Once in my life I was free to soar, to sing, to shout at the top of my lungs, to think of anything and give life to it like a god growing wings to a worm…I was freer, if not completely free. I didn’t have anything to own, nothing to be concerned about, but myself and my endless wanderlust.

Until love made me a slave of many kinds. My hands and feet got tied with ludicrous obsession to please and perverted desire to get hurt over and over…what have become of me? Never in my million imaginings did I ever think pain could be this addictive. I cringe at the thought of myself licking on my own blood and feeling so alive with its taste.

If only I could find a cave in which I could yield and conceal myself from this world. I am too much embarrassment. My existence is a shame to the rest of the dancing elegantly powerful fairies where I used to belong.

I loathe love and anything that it resonates. It’s like a cancer that has stricken me, leaving me with no other choice but to lie in my death bed and wait till it finally consumes my flesh to rot.

What about Conflict ?

Our existence as human beings is continually fueled with the desire to find meaning – in our experiences, in our survival, in our aspirations. In the pursuit of meaning, man explores all possible causes and effects, all possible reasons and answers. He has to see why, to know why, and he actually needs to elaborate it, to actualize it, make it more tangible. There has to be a proof of his discoveries. That’s why legends were born, folklore, traditions. These are proofs of man’s capacity to conceive ideas, to dream, imagine, eventually to invent – stories, plans, technologies. To quote George Eliot, “The world is full of hopeful analogies, and handsome, dubious eggs called possibilities.” These possibilities provide opportunities for man to discover new things everyday, and also probabilities for him to fail.

From these experiences of man, his successes and failures, his realizations and disappointments, despair and hope, histories are being woven. These are man’s cultural history, its laws, religions, norms, standards, tenets. They become landmarks along the road to man’s civilization. They are signposts that would lead to the next bend, to the next curve. History then defines the person, the society, for that matter, and this would attempt to determine its future, to build the character of the people.

However, we are unique individuals, with unique minds. One can look at a flower and say it’s beautiful while the other one can look at it, smell it and say it smells bad anyway. Conflicts are born out of this — people reacting to different stimulus, different situations, interpret them, name them, make their choice whether to live them out, practice them, or refuse to do so and behave otherwise.

Society’s tenets are supposed to be designed to make people behave in a certain way, this is in the view of bringing about peace and harmony. But because of our individual differences, this doesn’t prove to be plausible. They’re like bandage on the bruise. Nevertheless, I don’t think a society without a commandment is possible.


Cinderalla Wannabe

As a little girl I fell in love with the Cinderella story. Being shy and withdrawn, I was always the one left at home and I would imagine “my” fairy godmother wagging her glittery wand right before my eyes and turning me into a beautiful princess. Any moment soon, my carriage squash will bring me to where my prince would be. We would dance and fall in love and live happily ever after.

I grew up hoping for the happy ever after ending. Somehow, I thought planning things carefully would make it possible me. No boyfriend while still studying, no teenage pregnancy, princess should be deserving enough for the prince…all those silly stuff a Cinderella wannabe could think of.

I lived in a dream world. I’m glad I got to love these fairy tales, if only I didn’t insist myself in these make believe worlds. The happy ever after is something that we all must work on, everyday. It doesn’t just come at a particular moment in time and stay there for good. Life doesn’t end at the last page of a fairytale book. It goes on bringing with it more characters, twisted plots, surprising and sometimes scary climaxes.

But I guess no one is too old enough to learn something new everyday. Oh well, yes, I’m not too old enough to read these fairy tales once again and see which part could I try and fit myself in. I’m sure I would know even better.



Temperature rising..rising…
My own spirit plummeting…plummeting…
down to the deepest recesses
of the unknown…what I fear the most …

But it will end,
the nightlong vigil,
the holding on to his tiny hand,
the quivering of my own flesh,
the sweat from the humid room,
all warm from his fever…

It will end,
his agony…all my own…

Tomorrow, he will be up again,
celebrate his childhood —
forbidden just yet.

Where your soul has been

Can hope be abundant

in the ephemeral field

of dandelion dreams?

Can dreams ever do come true?

What have you seen so far

in your journey

to never ending sunsets?

Were there a few sunrise along the way?

I want to learn, too, I want to see

I want to find out how it is

To plunge and find out why.

I want to know the meaning

Of every sigh…

Like you do, I am treading along

never knowing why, right away

never knowing why sometimes

some things just cannot stay…

Go ahead now and sigh

the contented, wistful sigh of the ocean.

From the many twilights you’ve seen,

surely there are a hundred dawn breaks

where your soul has been.