Blog by Jedde

The sun rises and it is sure of itself. Its rays do not need to be told where it should be. In that moment of serenity, the certainty is strong. No doubt springs from the horizon, only beauty. On the ground, a flower blooms. A tulip, a dandelion, a chrysanthemum. The flower does not compete with the other. Fearlessly she opens, happily she blooms. When she withers, she doesn't say "What if." When she dies, she gives a smile so sure. Her fallen petals, soft on the ground. A kiss of life and a memory of beauty, now buried on the dirt, satisfied of the life she's lived. The human watches all these - the sun with its rays, the flower with her petals, the petals falling on the ground. The human wonders - how, why, where, when, what. Asking, demanding, exploring, slowing down, speeding up. Fearing, doubting, sulking, tensing. The human is not sure of herself. She feels she needs to be told where she should be. Stuck on a place, with so much uncertainty.  She asks if she may

"When it rains and it pours, the thunder and the lights shatter in the sky, and your heart wonders  in solitude, if you're  truly ever worth loving. They told you that you  get the love you deserve, but as soon as the lightning strikes, you are illuminated with the truth - that you are too broken to be put together and nobody keeps a broken glass, not even the king's men who  put Humpty Dumpty  together again. In a stormy night when the clouds are burdened  with tears gushing through  their  tender skins; you gather your broken pieces and lay there in silence. The door opens and  the one  who brings the lamp appears. With his sleeping soul, he sees you in the ebony of darkness and takes a step - and each step of his  is coated with  deafening  silence. The lamp bringer  casts  a  light on your broken pieces; A timid flicker at first,  and  then a loud burst altogether - of  a million stars shining from the broken glass  that mutes your insecurities  hiding  in an unlit noo

  "Put your energy into rising above the things that you can't change, Naomi. Keep your mind right." Goodreads Summary "In this epic and haunting love story set on the Oregon Trail, a family and their unlikely protector find their way through peril, uncertainty, and loss. The Overland Trail, 1853: Naomi May never expected to be widowed at twenty. Eager to leave her grief behind, she sets off with her family for a life out West.  On the trail, she forms an instant connection with John Lowry, a half-Pawnee man straddling two worlds and a stranger in both. But life in a wagon train is fraught with hardship, fear, and death. Even as John and Naomi are drawn to each other, the trials of the journey and their disparate pasts work to keep them apart.  John’s heritage gains them safe passage through hostile territory only to come between them as they seek to build a life together. When a horrific tragedy strikes, decimating Naomi’s family and separating her from John, the pr

There are sides of us that we do not show in public. It's either we do it on purpose for a deep reason, or, maybe we're just not aware they exist. You know, like a blind spot. While there's a huge chance for our blind spots to turn out wonderfully inspiring, we also know deep down that sometimes, they are quite the contrary.  One big realization that dawned on me these past few months is that I freak out when I couldn't plan my life out. This is my blind spot that I don't particularly present generously to the public eye, plainly because I didn't realize it then, and I've still yet to understand my experience in a private space. I believe you understand, right? You see, generally, I'm a spontaneous person. I've come to terms with being agreeable to changes. In fact, I've even created a photo album on my Facebook called 'Spontaneity', where I save all photographs of my spontaneous adventures with family and friends.  So, what made these pa

I am turning 26 in a few months. Like always, I'm looking forward to it. It feels as though I'm getting closer to my actual age that's older than my present age. As an old soul, I find it mesmerizing to age each year. New wisdom, new learning, new experiences - mistakes, and failures included. Whenever I meet anyone who thinks I'm too young, there's something in me that begs to differ, and it's probably the old lady residing deep into my psyche. Who knows?  I aspire to be like wine. The more you age, the more you become exquisite. There are people around me who are ageing so gracefully and despite their hardships, they remain kind and generous, loving and humble, sassy and quick-witted. I would love to grow up like them.  Recently, my thoughts had been filled with dreams. Having a cozy library, a small garden with a patio where I can drink my coffee and read books, while Alex is tending to the garden. By then, I would have helped at least 1,000 people or more -