For eleven years you have read me here. I am still here. But I am also writing on Medium now ā longer essays, book reviews, and the kind of prose that arrives at midnight and demands to be written. Come find me: medium.com/@etoile1291
Category: prompts
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I Spoke Once, and Never Again
Painting: Claude Monet, 1875. Public domain via National Gallery of Art.
I keep it to myself, and myselfālike a girl with no lips.
And so, no one sees me. Iām forgotten, forsaken.
Still, I am flesh and boneāthe quiet soul, the raging spirit.Recognition is not my thing, or so I try to beguile.
But the crying heart longs for it, like a flower needs water.
The calm sea always hides the surge of roaring waves.I wanted to be someoneās oneāeven if he knows me not.
I wanted to be a loverās loverāeven if he is someoneās one.When I shared what I felt, with streams of salt-sad fire,
it was too much for them. They turned away.
So I stopped confessing it altogether, evermore.I wish for nothing nowānot tomorrow, not ever.
With no expectations, I let the days passāand fade away. -
š¾ Understanding Cats as Mirrors of My Soul
They say pets reflect the personalities of those who care for them. The way they respond to others and express their feelings seems to mirror how theyāre treated at homeāor perhaps how their owners reveal the rawness of human emotion, unfiltered and instinctive.
My two cats, Toro and Camille, mirror my ego and superego, respectively. Toro is a sensitive soul, easily shaken by the outside world and never shy about his emotions, almost like a little human. Camille, in contrast, is calm and observant. He watches me in silence, as though he sees through to the very center of me. At times, I think of Toro as the General Cat from Catās Eye, and Camille as Jiji from Kikiās Delivery Service.
Sometimes, I wonder if they are the little brother and sister who were never bornāthat they somehow returned in fur and paws to be near meā¦ and, strangely, near my mother, who once chose not to bring them into the world.
Whenever they curl beside me, their small hearts pulsing gently against mine, I feel the wonder of life swell within meāa quiet awe at its vividness, like a tide of feeling stirred with reverence for the mystery of creation, and the One who makes all things beautiful.
Rudyard Kipling once said that a cat walks by himself. But perhaps he never met mine.
Whatever happens, they are my familiarsāsilent witnesses and gentle companions, walking beside me through this strange and lovely journey of life.
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The Poignant Loss: A Reflection on Absence
I never stood beside him.
Nor did my eyes ever meet his.
But when I heard he was goneā
forever, yesterdayā
a strange sadness fell upon me,
like dusk after the sun has set.
One soul less in the world,
and silence filled the void.
We will never see him again.
His voice and face are lost to us,
like an old photograph of the beloved
set quietly aflame.
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Living with a Ghost: Lessons from Loneliness
Iāve been living with a ghost since I was a child. She doesnāt speak, but sometimes I hear her in the rain tapping on the windows or in the whisper of leaves rustling in the wind. When I gaze at the stars at night, she leans in and murmurs, You are alone. You are meant to be alone.
Loneliness ā that is her name. And she is the only one who has stayed with me all this time. I suspect she doesnāt like it when I make friends or feel happy. Thatās when I stop listening to her and try to cast her out, like an evil spirit haunting me. But she seems to like my cats, Toro and Camille. Perhaps itās because cats, too, are solitary and spiritual creatures.
Come to think of it, some people donāt like cats ā as if thereās virtue in disliking them. But many writers have lived with feline companions. Edgar Allan Poe once said his cat, Catterina, was his muse. Lucy Maud Montgomery was also a devoted cat lover.
Loneliness doesnāt have to be your enemy. If you get to know her, she can help you notice the quiet details of life that others overlook or take for granted. In those everyday little things, you may find beauty ā and a quiet joy in simply being alive to witness them.
Ready to say hello to loneliness?
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prompt 218 on I wish I could
Daily writing promptWrite about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?It was the best of my time, the highest of my time. I had a great job back then with a great package of benefits, working in a prestigious firm in New York City. It was my gliding age.
I wish I could go back to that time and stay there. Then, I would not have to come to California. I was too young to understand the real world and bear the responsibilities for myself and my family. Walking away from stress on a rash decision yielding to gushing emotions was not the wisest choice. Instead, I should have taken a vacation and traveled to lovely places to relieve work stress and see the world’s beauty. That way, I could separate the work from my life, lest I should bring the stress home and spend the whole time sulking.
Now that I have walked for half a century, these things appear from the past, like ghosts of the dead who resist leaving this world.
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