I lost my language when
a thousand whispers told me it wasn’t worth keeping
The early Saturday mornings in class
were interfering with my weekends.
Now don’t get me wrong:
I am thankful for the priviledges I hold
my communication skills
my writing abilities
But something still makes me feel raw
when I could not describe to my grandpa
the great depths to which I loved him
on those heavy days preceding his passing.
And years earlier
when I could never assure him
I was eager to listen when he wanted to talk
about grandma after she had also gone—
maybe then could his tears flow a little more easily.
And it still doesn’t sit right with me
when I could not explain to my grandma
how much ill health it perpetuated inside me
when she’d criticized my body;
A stolen chance
to make amends
Instead lay a silent chasm between us
until she died and
I was on the other side of the country.
Great regrets hurricane through me
as I desperately grasp ruptured threads of
my ancestor’s resonances
All that remains is
an immense lump in my throat
words that got lost in transit or
arrived too late to be received
bereaved messengers that never fullfilled their purpose.
Yet I know my language isn’t too late to find again
because even though all my of grandparents have left
I could at least pray to them
in a way they’d want me to.
The Birth and Death of Memories: 800 x 524 px
Golgi Stain of the Hippocampus by The Geisel School of Medicine at Dartmouth
peel away the layers
Take time to
nooks and crannies
Hold your wounds
with a quality of
Listen to your heart and
every beat it echoes as you
its raw exposure.
divine mass and
Love and be loved.
that mushy goo
out of every cell in your
Connect with other
and allow them to
beat beside you
all that is
across the sky.
Dharana: 11″ x 4″ Watercolor on Cold Press
Focus on a single object. It could be anything. God or a mushroom. Whatever else is happening, whatever is swirling through your head… concentrate like its the most important thing in the entire universe. Grow acutely aware of every tiny detail of the object, as if consumed in a metaphysical dance with it. And when the chaos tries to steal you away—smile at it. Then, refocus.
Sunburst: 24″ x 24″ Acrylic on Canvas Print
The plants that
inside my mother’s house are
all year long
She hasn’t read a single book on
used a special fertilizer but I think
they trust her.
Although they haven’t been around her whole life
I have a feeling they Know
all the meals she cooked for us
all the messes she cleaned up after us
all the dreams she made real for us and
all the nuturance she channeled to us
when we had fallen to the ground and could not get up
on our own—
I have a good feeling they Know
that she risked her life escaping war for us
that she worked day and night to build a better life for us
that she breathed patiently throughout our reckless years for us and
that she loved us to the moon no matter what.
I’m fairly certain they’ve always Known
that their life was sown
more than enough
they needed to g r o w.
Love Grows: 11″ x 14″ Watercolor and Ink on Cold Press
Maitri (loving-kindness) is not an uncontrollable force of nature, subject to the volatile highs and lows of the human mind. It is not something you just get persuaded into accidentally by the damned physical laws of attraction, for better or for worse. Maitri is an infinite energy, limitless and timeless. It can be grown like a tree, so tall and so strong, yet delicately sensitive and responsive to its environment; adaptive within a multitude of climates. Rooted in the fertile grounds of anahata (heart cakra), the practice of cultivation and care rests in your hands.
Rajas: 18″ x 32″ Ink, Acrylic, and Wires on Wood Panels
For sale at the Merchandise Lofts in Toronto, ON [$180]
Single Lid: 10″ x 12″ Ink on Cold Press Watercolor Paper
“Look Closer” is an ongoing collection of photographs I’ve taken on mindful walks since 2015. During these walks, I make a deep conscious effort to focus solely on my natural surroundings. This effective grounding practice brings me a lot of contentment and awe. We only realise there is beauty everywhere when we unveil our blindness to it.