I earned your contempt just
because I did not march to your music.
You sentenced me to hell
because I did not sing with you.
You even questioned my social philosophy
and even my religious conviction.
I will not ever return the hate and the contempt.
But however many holy words you speak, read, write and believe; it is useless unless you value human service and kindness.

To teach, to help a stray animal, to smile and assist a stranger, to work for your family, to plant trees, to give to the needy—these activities do not need explanation about theology.
Every one of these just needs anyone of us,
as humans—to reach out, to give a lending hand,
to care and to believe in the existence of faith and humanity.

I had mistakes, wrong choices, troubles, failures, losses and fears in the past that taught me lessons and flared my passion
to seek spiritual guidance.
I went astray but I listened to my inner voice that helped me back on track.
I’d still probably be in the darkness had I not known how to cultivate my emotional side.
The guides, the path, the doors
will be different for all of us.
But a lot of our spiritual encounters happen in the ordinariness of our daily life.

My spiritual moments have not just happened when I closed my eyes.
They happened when I cuddled my kindergarten students in school and when I watched the water flows in the river
and the birds sing.
They continue to happen when I do long distance parenting and do  
my duty as a mother,
when I smile and greet my neighbors
and even when I admire colors everywhere.

The world has many colors my dear,
beautiful colors and I have the profoundest respect to even the bleakest and the lightless.
Let us be inspired by the plants who come together and thrive peacefully in a garden.
Let’s see beyond our beliefs and differences and embrace each other’s colors and uniqueness to add beauty to our existence.
My friend, the way we give the gifts of faith, humanity, kindness, friendship and love to the people around us is how we save the world.

She...she responds to a soothing bath.
He...he prefers a different path.

They each disrobe from the day's affairs,
the formal restraints they each do share.

Their clothes lay scattered about the floor,
both stand naked at a tiled shore.

She eases herself into this sleeve,
a temperate knitted liquid weave.

He guides the stream from it’s perched spout,
the water finding the perfect route.

His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight.
She prefers ambient candle-light.

She gently sponges her supple skin.
He grips the soap...oh, so masculine.

She contemplates his rugged terrain,
he puts his hands out to feel the rain.

His caress yields a lathery foam,
her fingers begin a downward roam.

He too diverges, or so rather,
deviates from the task to lather.

Much attention in just one region,
cleaning can’t motivate this legion.

His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him,
nothing stops what’s about to begin.

Tremors start from her head to her toes,
a smile blossoms as she plateaus.

He feels the pressure stiffly increase,
it brings to him an immense release.

She savours the last rippling quiver.
His knees weak from such an endeavour.

They catch their breath, and resume their chores,
have they been remiss in these detours?

Excuse the news they misuse shampoos,
they choose to amuse with such taboos.

One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers
... and she takes a bath.

Yes, you are indeed right.
I’m weird and a bit strange
unconventional, odd, different.
But no,
I do not want to cut myself into pieces to suit
to your approval of what’s normal
and what’s needed.
I do not need to edit myself to fit in.
I do not need to apologize for what
and who I am.
I am strong enough to live my life in my own terms.
I dance to the beat of my own music.
It doesn’t matter if nobody understands me.
I am just being me.
I am real.
I am beautiful.
I am unique.
I am a proud misfit.