Unclothing The Unconcious Self

WHAT IS mandala? That was my question, too, upon hearing it. Yes it is a requirement to us to make one. But even if it is a must-do, our prof told us to take it seriously and do it with a peace of mind. It is sacred, she said.

I search for it in the internet to understand more about mandala. Mandala means circle. It is “a representation of the unconscious self”. So I really need to take it seriously. Our prof said it will tell a lot about ourselves through that mandala. We can use whatever we wan, we can draw whatever we want. But the circle is a requirement. Also, we should be drawing in a place where we feel comfortable, in a quiet place, in a place where we are relaxed..

Yes I don’t have any problem on drawing because it’s my passion. I draw. I want to draw. Drawing has been ‘in’ me. The only problem that I knew I will encounter is how to start and how to finish it.

To be honest, I find it hard to make a mandala. I find myself stuck, with nothing to think and nothing to draw. I’ve managed to finish my mandala (almost) within a day. I started to draw then I’ll stop and think. Hmm.. not just think, more on.. reflect on myself, about myself. Then draw again. Reflect. Draw. Until I’m satisfied with it.

Background story: I don’t have a favorite color. And I stopped using color or oil pastel in drawing. I just use a pencil. But where I’m really comfortable is in using pen (ballpen). Yes, pen. It’s alright with me if I’ll have a mistake. What is in my mind is that, if i did something wrong, I’ll do anything and everything to make it as perfect as possible. I know I can’t make it right anymore but it doesn’t mean that it will not be perfect.

Being good is not a compilation of right, but a compilation of wrongs with the right things to do to make everything fall into place.

So here’s my mandala in the making using pen:

my all-set mandala

I want to elaborate what every symbol, drawing, or image drawn in my mandala but it will take too much time and too much words. So I just want you to understand it for yourself. But feel free to ask me anytime, I am more than willing to answer it (:

By the way, I named my mandala; Naked Colors. And I’ve got a number of reasons why.. But I’ll let you handle the realization of why such (;


Imperfections Of My Hand

COZ THERE are times when I told myself that I can’t really draw.. but here are the times when I journey through oblivion and found myself impressed by my own hand..

There are imperfections. Using pen means drawing without any mistake. But sometimes, those imperfections are what make it perfect.

Black and white is beauty

black and white show the true colors

black and white..


Because I Let My Hands Win

WHEN YOU borrow my notebook, this is what you’ll see..

Because whenever I’m in a class and listening seems like tiring,
well I let my hands win over my ears..

All of these are my works. These were just abstract.
Some are unfinished, while some are just plain ugly.
But hey! It’s my work (: Just pen and paper.

Plain as just pen and paper.
Because I think that black and white is beautiful.
Because I think that black and white is natural.
Because sometimes I’d rather draw than listen.
I’d rather draw than do anything at all..


What Many Would Say

my unfinished business

I WAS drawing using my pen. Pen. Not a pencil. And drawing using a pen means you can’t make a mistake. As I continue moving my hand, no matter how hard I tried to slow down to make sure I’ll not make any mistake, I still do. Yeah, I know it is impossible not to make any mistake at all. Even just a little bit wrong move of my hand means a big mistake.

Then it flashes right through my mind; drawing is a lot like living. Many would say, I can’t draw, I can’t. And I wanted to ask, do you ever try? Many would say, I’m no good at it. And I wanted to ask, do you ever try your best to be good at it? Many would say, I can’t do it, I can’t draw, I’m not like the others. And I wanted to ask, do you need to be like them[the others]?

It’s like living! Many would say, I can’t take this anymore. And I wanted to ask, do you even try facing it? Many would say, my life’s so damn and it’s nonsense. And I wanted to ask, do you even try to do good and make your life worth living? Many would say, look at their life, I’m not like them, I’m not as fortunate as them, I’m not as good as them. And I wanted to ask, why do you need to be like them in the first place? You are not like them because you are different! We are all different in a way.

Those things have happened. Those words have been said. Those questions have been asked. And those same things will continue to happen. Those same words will be spoken again and again. Those same questions will be thrown again and again. My point is not only in drawing but in living and in all the things we do..

Drawing. Living. It doesn’t matter how much we try to slow down. Being afraid of making a mistake does not mean not committing any. As avoiding to make a mistake does not mean not having any.

But it’s in our mindset that a mistake will ruin our drawings, that a mistake will ruin our lives. A mistake that makes the drawing ugly, a mistake that makes the life miserable. But what our eyes didn’t see is that a certain mistake, sometimes, is what makes our drawing beautiful, what makes our drawing different, is what makes us learn a lesson, what makes us stronger than we used to be.

If we are afraid to draw then how can we see how beautiful our drawing will be? How can we see what we can do without trying? How can we appreciate ourselves? If we are afraid to live then how can we see how beautiful life is? How can we see what life can give us without experiencing it? How can we accept who we really are? If we will not draw, no one will draw for us. If we will not live, no one will live for the life which must be ours.

Many would say, why continue doing things if you can’t even do it? And I wanted to ask, why not do things that will make you go on? Why giving up when life gave us all the reasons not to?

Many would say… but what would YOU say?


I’ve Sketched My Heart

I STARE at the blank paper
a pen in my hand
I started to write
then I realized
I have written your name
so I crumpled the paper.

I stare at the blank paper
the pen still in my hand
I started to think
then I realized
I’m thinking of you
so I crumpled the paper.

I stare at the blank paper
I moved the pen in my hand
I started to draw
then I realized
I’m oblivious to everything
I just draw and draw.

I stare at the paper
not blank anymore
I stare at my drawing
my hand has sketched
my mind has thought of
my heart has dreamed of.

I stare at the paper
the drawing in it
seems familiar
right before my eyes
little did I know
I was staring at you.


A Man Who Shed Tears

FOR A long time, he felt this way again. But he knows this time it’s different. Totally different. Before, those days were just days when he was tired and just doing things like drawing, listening to music, or sleeping will comfort him, will help him a little to forget things which made him feel heavy. But at this very moment, he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand even what he’s feeling.

He tried to draw but he can’t even manage his hand to move. He tried to listen to music but the song, its melody irritates his ears, its sounds turn out to be deafening. He tried to close his eyes, to sleep, but that feelings just got stronger, worse..

Why does he need to carry it alone? He found himself wanting to give up, wanting to quit. But he is a man. And men are strong. Yet not always. Men have their weaknesses. Men have their soft side which they prefer to be hidden. But this time, he can’t hide it. He can’t even manage to carry on. He just wanted the pain to stop, the pain which swallowed him and he allowed that such thing to happen.

He got a lot of things to be done but the only thing he wanted to do is cry. Cry –which others see as a verboten for men. As if seeing a man cries means he is not a man anymore, as if being a man means being a robot, as if being a man means having a heart of stone.

But he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care to anything. Beside, he’s too tired and feeling too empty to care what others thought of.

He wanted to cry maybe because when he does, it will ease the pain. Somehow. He just wanted the pain out of him, out of his system.