Dear David Frankel’s “Collateral Beauty”

 

“We’re here to connect. Love, time, death. Now these three things connect every single human being on earth. We long for love, we wish we had more time, and we fear death…”

∞

“Collateral Beauty“,

As a movie, you touched me long before I even watched you, and not because you follow the deep personal tragedy of a grieving man… no, no, no. You primarily made me sad, because I know that deep in my heart, you were a movie I was supposed to create…

As a writer and aspiring Director, I’ve spent years coming up with different parts of a grand puzzle, and with every new addition, the direction becomes clearer and clearer. With that, there are certain themes that have landed on me. Which brings us back to you as a film…

Will Smith – who so brilliantly portrays the grieving man in question – takes pen to paper and writes 3 letters: to Love, to Time, and to Death.

Love.
Time.
Death.

This alone was enough to blow me sideways, because the concept is familiar to me.

I’m an avid letter writer, and these 3 abstracts are already so well acquainted with me, as I’ve written plenty to them…

Love knows just how devoted I’ve been to finding her; my life is a throne beneath her feet. I’m just awaiting her arrival. Patiently waiting, always.

Time knows of my deep, deep fascination with him. Time; the pulse of everything, the core of all that I do and pursue. It is the thread that holds it all together, and simultaneously pulls it apart.

Death… well, I’m not brave enough to call upon the ears and eyes of Death to hear what I have to say… so my subject is slightly different here; I’ve substituted this with Infinity. Yet Infinity primarily questions mortality. Death marks the end and the beginning. It’s the finite and the infinite. It marches to the same beat. Infinitely.

Once Without a Time

For someone who is so obsessed with time, I seem to forget that most people move on with it.

It is not an attribute of the common, to hang up a broken clock in the hall of their stagnant lives. That is a pattern of my own.

I’m typically atypical in my state of standstill. I’m inspired to aspire from the walls within.
The lure of the day marks just the coming of the night. The night beckons me to sleep, for the coming of a new day.

But others, they venture forward and seek to get lost, knowing that the discovery of life comes in the adventure of its course.

Their tales will be told as a time they were once upon, but mine will be told as being without, for I live in a place where the ticks do not applaud me, so I am not accepted as part of that story.

“Once without a time” will be my only legacy. I’ll be lost outside of the ages.
Unaccounted for, for I didn’t count the score, counterbalancing the accounts of times galore.

Yes, it’s a strange thing to sit and write about time. For actually, it completely eludes me.

∞ T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Written: September 7^th 2016
Published: January 31^st 2017

{Written with Vallendri Arnout in mind}

Happy 2017!

Happy New Year folks! May 2017 be full of things that have never been!

May it bring you all happiness, magic and love. May it be full of madness (of the good kind) tiredness (of the fulfilling sort) and wonder and awe. May you always stay curiouser and curiouser.

I hope you all read some fine books, listen to some soul-feeding music and watch some eye opening movies. I hope your feet wander off on spectacular adventures and your arms embrace every opportunity. I hope you give your heart to someone who deserves it and your lips meet someone who thinks you’re as wonderful and as magical as you are. I hope hopes and dream dreams for you all, until you find your happy place, and far beyond that too.

This year, I hope to welcome this world in all its savage beauty, and surrender to it wholeheartedly, doing with it what I can. I hope you all do the same. 2017 is the one. For real this time.

All your dreams, all your fantasies, and all your most elaborate delusions, they are my infinite wishes for you.

Peace ∞ Love

∞ T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Do YOU Believe in Santa?

I never used to believe in Santa, but as I got older, I started to.

As my understanding grew, Santa became more and more real. The thought behind this is simple:

Just as Cupid is the embodiment of Love, Santa is the embodiment of Christmas Spirit. That same Christmas spirit we don’t need to see, to believe, and we don’t need to hold, to feel.

Do we believe in that angel-winged child, merrily striking us with an arrow tipped in love? Well… no. (God knows if I did, I’d be on the hunt for those arrows myself.) But Love is real. Cupid is Love.

The same goes for Santa and Christmas Spirit. He is the personification of Christmas spirit. He is the face that makes children believe. He is the tradition that we enjoy.

Just as cupid shoots his arrows through our words and actions, Papa Noël reveals himself through our mirror reflection… but only if we choose to really see him there.
There’s a bit of Santa in us all. In us is where he truly lives; we are all, his secret keeping.

So perhaps the elusive coordinates to the North Pole is within us too…?
Mrs Claus lives in our Hearts – pouring love and soul in what we do.
The elves work on our minds – conjuring plans and ideas for the gifts to give.
The “Naughty and Nice List” is the Year – the one which weighs who remains in our lives and who does not, awarding presence with presents.
And the reindeers… well… they’re just for good measure.

So, do I believe in Santa? Indeed I do. I believe in what he represents, and so long as we keep the Christmas spirit alive, he will always be real.

Ho ho and ho.

Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones

∞ T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Dreams|vs|Broken Dreams

Dear Deluded Heart,

Dreams are as fragile as they are sturdy; they will stand for as long as we chase them. The end of a pursuit however, turns dreams into broken dreams. And broken dreams always come back to haunt us.

…That is the nightmare I fear; I dread the turn of the table…
…The slight tip of the scale, between dreams and broken dreams: Where one drives me forward, the other will run me over the edge. Where one

Dear “The Walking Dead”…

SPOILER! spoiler! SPOILER! 

“The Walking Dead”

…Oh how thee tooketh mine heart and grabbed it by the nut-eth! Now, I don’t know if that’s a thing – both the phrase and the word “nut-eth” – but it is now!
For mine heart is heavy… woe, woe, woe!

You Walking Dead, hath played with mine head, and thou hast single-handedly realised mine worst Walking-Dead-Fears: namely,

The Great + The Flawed = The Truth

“Only once have I been made mute. It was when a man asked me, “Who are you?”
– Kahlil Gibran, – ‘Sand and Foam’ –

To be asked to tell you of myself, my response would be silence. This silence tells of a moment’s contemplation; a brief hesitation… Which version is it that I am selling you? For I have a choice of three approaches: one voices only the great parts of my story, whilst the other confesses the flawed and undesired elements. Only when paired together, does the truth truly reveal itself as the third and final “whole”…

The Power of Perspective

Life – like clockwork – keeps on going. But time is also the gift that brings peace of mind by healing pain from old wounds, and strengthening eyes to bring forth perspective.

Often, mistakes are the fall that helps us dodge the bullet, but we are too busy tending the scrapes on our knees to notice the chaos we escaped.

“Ohana means Family”

We all concern ourselves a bit too much with what others think of us, and not enough on those we love the most.
I say “us” and I say “we”, but above all I mean “I” and I mean “me”.
I guess that in this instant, I chose to generalise at the expense of the few… or perhaps the many. All I know is that this holds true for me, so perhaps for you too…

Dear Spielberg’s “The Big Friendly Giant”

“THE BFG” movie,

These words are my own, from my heart flow: I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…

Ok so they aren’t my words exactly, but Natasha Bedingfield’s song served as a suitable (albeit random) surrogate…
Because I love you, you friendly sir.

So, what to say…? Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?— No no, let’s deviate from Shakespeare. Thou shall not possess my pen! – Be gone with you *exit scene*