xzhao-blog

[xzhao-blog]

1998

In the early mornings just as the sun rises above the horizon I distinguish your footsteps from grandma’s through its slower and heavier pace. You rummage in the garden outside of my room’s window, and look after the plants: the loofah vines, the grape vines, the fig tree, the pomegranate tree, the goji-berry tree. Grandma’s and your kept-down voices become  of golden streams of murmur weaving a safety net that’s so gentle yet so strong it puts me right back into a even more peaceful slumber, dreaming of another day where the sun shines so brightly that it shines right into my most distanced day dreams.

The proudest you look on pictures is when you are posing with your plants, both hands on your waist, your face slightly turned to one side, a little tilted, a big smile hugged by rosy cheeks, the face of a young boy beaming with fulfilment of the gardener who nurtures and witnesses seedlings grow. With enthusiasm you draw words onto paper and cut them out into card-sized squares to introduce them to a new mind. With these cards I learn that words are not just symbols, scribblings of strokes and curved lines and dots put together to mean something else: They are individuals, each one of them has a its own personality. The character of the word “person”（人）is free-spirited and likes to make large strides or leaps, striving to elevate, that is why it has two long legs. The word “good” (好）is content because its left and right part fit and complement each other perfectly, where as “bad” (坏) is not wholesome and therefore incomplete. “House” (房) has a roof to shield and protect, and is open and welcome. “Painting” (画）likes to laugh about its framed acre of field. “Dumpling” （饺子）looks like it wants to be chewed and it makes the noise one makes with one’s mouth when eating dumplings, which always makes me think they taste better than they actually are. “Water” (水）is delicate, graceful, and strong, and “I” (我) is always too complicated to be fully comprehended or remembered.

When words are put together, we like to observe and bear witness to the relationships that develop between them, and the personalities they bring out of each other. When you recount the story of Snow White it is not because of the story that I want to listen to it over and over again but of the fact that those words mixed with your voice are like water pearls dripping on the rougher side of a piece of leather, rolling down its surface, or like biting into a zesty apple and realising that it’s actually soft, sweet, and smooth, or like opening  ancient dust-covered leather-bound tome full of secrets. Words flow into each other becoming little brooks of delicate mysteries that tease my appetite until I gather so many of them they turn into wild-flowing rivers tearing me with them into a faraway dream.

When it gets warmer outside, you take me with you on those evening walks after dinner and the air smells like sweet relaxation. We walk along side the gentle breezes that bring along your acquaintances with them for a good chat, sometimes we leave some distances behind together. On one of those walks I decided that Mondays are red and friendly, Tuesdays are dark blue, and Fridays are very light blue with speckles of gold because it’s lively. Wednesday likes to decide between being yellow or orange, but mostly chooses a shade in-between, and Thursday is powerful, hardworking, and green. The weekend is always iridescent.

You watched me crawl, then walk. You watched me find my way back home from school for the first time from the other side of the street and I accused you of cheating because we agreed I would do it on my own, and you make grandma the culprit and mastermind behind it all. We bathe in the afternoon sun to strengthen our bones and bring home that sweet little chick we find on the market. You encourage me to enter the story competition of the children’s magazine I am subscribed to, and mischievously add your own flavours to it, and I win two coloured handkerchieves and you win a smirk on your face, and I keep both of them until today. Who would know that a decade later, I would submit something on my own, and people actually like what they read.

It is a mysterious place, this world, full of inexplicable thing such as your love for grapes, how two trees can look so different but perfect together, or the soothing effect of the right word put into the right order. And you’re actually a magic man.

[xzhao-blog]

Authenticity

March 16, 2016

For the ones just pretending to be nice:

Please don't. 

I detest fraud.

I desire authenticity.

Stick your fake-ness up your hind-ness.

Thank you very much.

[xzhao-blog]

"A Song" - Cai Young, 133-192 AD, Han Dynasty, China

There is something about this poem. It grabbed my attention and prompted me to translate it and share it, it bothered me until I did it, hahahaha. It's an ancient Chinese poem, in which the author reflects, umm, on his lifestyle and practices that can better his lifestyle. :) My first time translating old Chinese poems! Hope you like :)

"Practicing and training so that my heart, ah, is soaked in the oldest and utmost clarity. Cleanse the filth and turbidity, ah, they keep the upright and main spirit. Mild, harmonious fluid flows freely and unimpeded, ah, the breath of spirit is tranquil. Emotions and moods are ankered, ah, heart upright and graceful. Stop the indulgence, ah, no cause or reason to be born. To stride the cosmos but passed down customs, ah, lightly and elegantly, this tiny, humble, yet single journey."

"A Song" - Cai Yong, 133-192 AD, Han Dynasty

练余心兮浸太清。 涤秽浊兮存正灵。 和液畅兮神气宁。 情志泊兮心亭亭。 嗜欲息兮无由生。 踔宇宙而遗俗兮眇翩翩而独征。

歌 - 蔡邕, 133-192 AD, 汉代

[xzhao-blog]

hush

do not speak let the stillness of night evolve into the softest light silent unsung melodies feel their way in dawn’s blush a warm rosy hush awakens gentle birdsong that sings love beating with your heart a rhythm keeping me alive a quiet breath soothing love notes tuned to our one heart

~Aubrie~2017

[xzhao-blog]

i love your smile. i wish you knew that. there’s just something about it that makes me want to smile. i think seeing you happy creates this idea in my head that the world is okay - that everything is fine. and that makes me feel happy also. so what i’m trying to say is: your happiness is the reason i’m happy.

02/03/17 (via uhnsaids)

[xzhao-blog]

[xzhao-blog]

4th day of break up

You weary body, the forced smile

The load on your shoulder

I wish I could have carried it for a while

Your temper heart, your dreamy mind

your smile, your laughter

were what I wanted to find

The days that were filled 

with blue skies and sunshine

The nights where we held each other

and cried

I don’t know if you know

how proud I was of you

how lucky I felt

to have had you in my life

I could have seen so much more and done so much more,

if only I looked over my own hurt

I wish I could have

given you more love.

Yet for that

I needed to have given myself

that love, and much, much more.

[xzhao-blog]

Leap

The deepest loneliness of all is to

look into the eye of the one 

who is supposedly the closest to you

and not feel accepted and understood.

Go, and explore the world.

And all it has to offer.

Will astound you.

And open up your eyes.

Take the leap.

[xzhao-blog]

Prayer

All-illuminating sun

enter my life

chase away the darkness

saturate every single cell of mine

with your kind, gentle light.

[xzhao-blog]

For J.J.

For J.J. , I created this by taking this energy I felt in you. What would happen if we all get softer edges, I wonder. Would this world be softer? Or just messier. What do you think?

Bellow away

to make me stay

but I won't oblige

I won't comply

to your rules

like a fool

you think you know it all

you think you're in control

Well, try me.

You'll see.

I need my space

I need my piece of sky

I need to fly

Can you be the wind

under my wings

and carry me 

while I try to be

someone I strive to be.

[xzhao-blog]

Make-Believe

You declare yourself

as the protector of your love

to fight with every inch of your body

all that could go wrong.

And with every day

you realize more that

it is not up to you to decide

whether your love can be

protected.

You decide to turn 

many blind eyes against 

the many instances where

you know it could be another

vote to end it, yet you

try to push it through and

to let those thorns

cut through your flesh

and let your blood run dry until

you can no more feel

who you once were.

You stop feeling pain because

you have become the pain and your

body has become a walking wound.

You

try to breathe

but

breathing hurts

so you question

if you should and

whether you wish this was all over.

Protector of your love,

what are you protecting?

If you are protecting love then

why does it hurt so much, is

love supposed to hurt like this 

are

my tears supposed to run like this,

is

my love really my love 

or a phantom

hiding beneath the cape,

mingling in the masquerade

performing a show to 

make me know that

this is not all a 

Make-Believe.

[xzhao-blog]

do not accuse the flower of wilting when you were the one who sheltered it from sunlight. i cannot live under the weight of your demands.

Noor Shirazie (via noorshirazie)

[xzhao-blog]

I lay on the grass by the lake and felt the demons stirring again, so I cut my chest open and dragged them out; one by one I faced them with bitter, terrified tears. They did not deserve to take up so much space in my body. I lay there for so long that flowers grew through my ribs, filling my emptiness, my darkness. I thought of how we are made of stardust and the ocean, and everything that had ever happened to us - even the things that left demons in us. I knew my demons would not be gone for good, they knew how to untangle these flowers from my ribs, but I also knew I could breathe past them now.

What springs is sprung (via tarrasheree)

[xzhao-blog]

Camouflage

They put him away.

Gave him some cake.

And sent him down a road

They themselves didn't know.

He wasn't scared

Nor well prepared.

His disappointment never showed,

But his heart had closed.

One day they drove by,

Love in their arms, smiles in their eyes,

presents in their suitcases

they had kept throughout the years.

Then disappeared just

as quickly as they came but

left songs unsung of

undying love of

forever love.

It wasn't until years later

when a multitude of gentle warriors

finally cracked open his

locked heart's code

and 

he knew what he never knew,

what he never knew.

He knew.

[xzhao-blog]

Dear Women, Dear Girls

Dear Women, dear Girls,

Know that you are strong.

Know that you are powerful.

Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

Look at yourselves and don’t tell me that

the explosive creativity

the encompassing kindness

the great love of a mother

are signs of weakness.

Stay wild and untamed

and true to yourself

in all circumstances.

Use your magic,

make this world a glittery place,

go spread beauty.

Dear Women, dear girls,

You are strong like no other.

You are powerful like no other.

Go, tell this to the world.

[xzhao-blog]

- Deep Red -

by Pedro Gabriel