My Life in Palette: A Tropical State of Mind - A Mural of Glimpse to the Past 🎨

When I am not traveling, the limelight of my rest days would probably go to having me stay at home and do what I love most to do --- painting.

Hello, everyone!

Yes, I call it mural. Though it may not be as big or as fascinating as those we usually see in the streets or as part of those colorful building facades, still, I call it a mural. ☺️

I grew up in a coastal town with tropical vibes protruding through the smallest mischievous cell of my childhood days. I used to run wild barefooted on the seashore which has been my constant playmate, together with the waves that have washed away, not just that it used to constantly erase all the trace of every innocent footprint I marked on the sand, but all the troubles back in those good old days. And so, like those waves that erased each footprint, were the years that had vanished the fragment of "those good old days" when adulting took over. If only those days have remained and paused a moment in time.

I used to stare at the lush green palm trees while laying my tiny body carelessly in the sand my eyes bewildered with various questions, unaware of the bitter-sweet melody of life swaying together with the leaves and dancing to the tranquil tune, so softly played that my young heart hasn't even heard.

I used to cut banana leaves when a sudden heavy downpour mockingly ruins a cheerful walk with classmates and friends on our way home after school and I have no umbrella with me. It has been an instant indigenous shelter. The perks of living in the province, it is. It has taught me a poignant life lesson that unpredictable rains will pour along the way and without the umbrella is not an excuse to frown, but rather a glimpse of a brilliant chance to enjoy and dance the rain.

I used to pick gumamela (hibiscus) flower. It had, at an early age, allowed me and my friends to play with a touch of a scientific experiment by making bubbles out of the mashed gumamela flowers. We also used to put it at the back of our ears with a feeling that we were looking gorgeous with those pink petals. It was so much fun.

And then the pages of days were turning so fast that we haven't noticed that those years slip through our fingers. The waves have come and go, the leaves have all fallen and have grown new one, the flowers have withered and died, and that young girl has turned into a lady. As I was staring through the window of time, life back then in the province, growing up embracing poverty was never a walk in the park but it's what molded me to grow up achieving my dreams one day.

The frisky waves, the swaying palm trees, the beautiful blooms of the flowers, and the serenity in the province were one of the amazing pieces that completed the perfect puzzle of what and how it was --- a beautiful childhood, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I miss those days...I miss home.

Some artist paint to create an image. Some paint to express how they feel. Some paint "who they were" while creating their so-called masterpieces. Art has its magical power of showing who or what we are. A labyrinth of creative passages towards the artistic chamber of our mind, showing the world a glimpse of our soul.

A glimpse of the past.
This painting is the "mischievous child in me" reliving the past. It is a glimpse of those worry-free and serene years I had back then in the province. It is a relaxing touch of fresh air that soothes my soul even when I was young and up until this day. It is the unbreakable rope that paints the indelible colors connecting me to those priceless days I would never trade with anything in the world.

Yes, this mural may not be as huge as those in the streets. But this painting has a huge space in my heart and that space is home --- a tropical state of mind. ❤