Silent Pen

I was  walking  down  a dim alley around  10 ‘o clock  one  night  after  my English  class. I was following  a  rugged boy  of about 6 years old. Dressed in  stingy  clothes, he had a  proof of a day’s exposure to sweat, smoke and dust. Seemed to me he hadn’t taken a bath for days nor washed his clothes. Unlike  others  who would raise  an eyebrow to  such  an awkward   state of his, politicizing  in their heads  whether it is reasonable to even lend  that  poor kid  a dole out  cent or not, arguing   further that  giving  alms   would make them accomplices to the crimes of that kid’s  irresponsible parents, I was contemplating on giving him a share of my part-time fee that night.

I  was reaching to my  purse  when another boy  twice his age  bragged his alms money to that kid.  To my surprise,  the latter  pulled out  from his pocket a couple of bills neatly folded  then boasted  his day’s earnings with  satirical smile.  I was  drawn to his pitiful condition not knowing  that  underneath  those crummy shorts was a great deal of cash. I call it his day’s talent fee  for  displaying the art of street begging. His looks  would knock  down the sensitivities  of any man,  melt even the  sturdiest of hearts, just like hypnosis  that makes  one reach  out  to his pocket and unconsciouly turn in some  coins. And when the kid  runs  farther away,  one is  left  wondering if the  amount given  would even suffice  to  fill the boy’s gnawing  stomach. Then  one  feels guilty  for  having  given less.

But  when  that kid raised  his  hand  to flaunt the money he “extorted”  from unassuming  passers-by,  it  dawned on me, not  everything  is  what it seems.   I felt  tricked, for one moment, and “reaching out” seemed to have lost all nobility  because the people  we think  too helpless may  actually be  “able.” I felt  critical of every  street  children  trying to hone their craft  in begging, mastering   the  sad look  on   their faces, the  deep pathethic stare, the lowly  voice that sends the  tone of depravity.  

Then I walked passed the kid  whom  I  was initially  worried  about,  dropping the coins back  to my  purse because the boy   apparently  has  more than enough  for the day. I reconsidered my thoughts  while I turned to the corner of that street.   I  sensed  a sudden annoyance  about what I  saw, but  I realized, there  is no point of argument to it.  They are what they  are  because  life was  difficult and at such a young  age  they  carry  the burden of  everyday survival on their own.  They  are robbed of the chance to be carefree children while many others of  their age have the luxury of time to dream and play.  Yet the  children of the streets are  forced by circumstance, standing on their  posts to beg because their survival instict tells them so. Many of them  are faced with life’s harsh realities which they need to  deal with every day. 

While some of us can  come up with  reasons  not  to give alms and shrug our  shoulders whenever they follow us around,  I refuse to  dwell on  political or economic  arguments relating   to poverty. That  we should not  dole out  because   we  condone indolence. That  we  should simply ignore them because giving out  encourages  dependence. That  we  should restrain because  the supposed  people  responsible   for them ought to take responsibility. That these  kids’  drama should not  be tolerated by society. The list goes on. The debates  fire up.  Yet the facts remain:  that  they are running  dark alleys at midnight when  they are supposed to be home; that their feet  are bare when we have a pair of imported  shoes  on; that   they  may have  rolled  bills in their  cruddy  pockets after  going  person to person  to beg  but   many   children out there  effortlessly get  the best of allowance  from their   rich parents;   that their  skins   have been sun burnt  and they breathe  smoke  from vehicles thruout the day.  The fact remains that their parents are lazy, illiterate and could not secure a descent job yet   ignoring that   child  will not make his parents realize their irresponsibilities  and that  child  will still be  hungry after we  rationalize the reasonableness of our  refusal to feed him;   that  these kids  don’t  go to   school and may never  know the leisure and pleasure  of being educated;   that  they  may be bullied by  some teenage boys  who envy  their hard-earned money;  and, that  they  are an open prey to  addicts, pedophiles, maniacs and syndicates while they  walk along the streets. And that they have to cross  against speeding cars, while many   affluent children  have playgrounds  within their backyard and are far more secured. 

 We  say  that giving in to them proliferates  many  of their kind. It  is pity  that initially moves us  to reach out,   but it is the attitude of love  that  makes  us  act  out. It  is  love that  wraps  it  up.  And we  do not rationalize love. At least in this case.  We  simply should respond. The fact remains  that  most of them don’t have a home to go to; their food  are scanty most of the time; they sleep  unprotected somewhere and they have newspapers   for a blanket and  pieces of scraps  from  the dump to  lay  their tired body on. 

 The fact remains that  you and I grew up   to an entirely different  world from theirs,  where  food is not a scarcity and we wake up  every morning   with  breakfast on the table or sleep to bedtime stories while hugging our favorite  toy, and we  do not have to look through the glass window  while feeling  envious with other kids who eat to their hearts’ content.    Truth is,  giving (and caring)  solves  one thing,  not giving (or not caring)  does  not  solve  anything at all. Perhaps, that rugged boy has irresponsible  parents; perhaps the government   falls   short in  addressing poverty; perhaps  we  condone indolence.  Perhaps.  But  here  is  something  certain:  that boy  is lacking much in  life  that  he does not need to deal with  the  arguments around him.  He simply wants  to survive.  Like we all do.  And he does not need cynics to make matters  worse than it already is.  He  does not need be blamed for  what  his parents  have not  done for him, does he?  When we reach out to a child  like him, it is more than pity that drives us, it  is more  of  love — that pleasant  aspect of  human nature  that is capable of creating ripples of hope  in the lives of even the  unsuspecting  strangers like  the children of the streets.

I watched him slipped slowly. I saw him looked away.  I sensed him losing the once vibrant glamour in  his  words. I knew it even before he spoke. Before he mustered a grasp of courage from within. Before he even realized I was reading his mind. Or should I say, plotting the trend of his gestures. I watched him gently make an exit.  And I just stood there aware.

No.  I wasn’t more aware of him going to the backdoor, downplaying the events, not stirring riot.  I was more aware of the inner crumble I was experiencing as if there was a spotlight to my heart.    Playing the lead role in a stage drama where I am the sole audience, I watched things unfold. He, who  got  away, was supposed  to lay his eyes on me, spend time  rehearsing  with me the  script of my romantic  scene,  tell me  words that breathe life to my being  a woman and finish the entire   Act   with me.

But he lost words along the way.  Things between us turned bland.  Time was expensive and we couldn’t afford.  Things went blurry and the distance grew more apart.   He faded with the sunset until the  dimness hid him.  I watched him slipped gently. Not saying a word myself because silence was better than a riot of words. There was a  Hamlet  in me, questioning  “to be or not to be?”  To be angry or not to be resentful.  To be offended or to simply concede. To regret or to simply let it. I allowed them all to drown in silence as I let him get away. After all, when someone leaves, his heart  must be  somewhere  else.  Of what use is having someone close by when you can’t have him. You can chain a man  but not his heart nor his soul.   You can hold his hands and never let go, but you can’t make him stay. His mind will be wandering somewhere no matter how much you pull him close. The heart cannot settle for what it does not desire.

I know that very well since several  times I’ve walked away from others, too. Simply because I was looking for something else  that there was a need  to keep on going. So I  let him   get  away from  the backdoor of my mind. Then  I looked away. I can be grateful  for that  brief  scene  together. Anybody  could have portrayed that    role   but  he was the one who was there.  Perhaps, it was no coincidence. He was  supposed to be there, despite the brevity of time.  

Life  has  entrances  and exits.  People  sneak in and out of our life  events. Some  say goodbye,   others  don’t get the  chance to. Some simply vanish, leaving   no trace to follow through. We all move on our single journeys.

Then we find other pleasures in life. New sources of joy and excitement. New scripts   to rehearse with our new-found relationships.         A different kind of beautiful anticipation.  A new experience that leaves  indelible mark in the history of our so-called lives.  There are those who walk in and stir our lives many times over.  There are those  who walk away unnoticed, gently sliding  through.  His was a pleasant   encounter but that’s all there is to it.  And  sure I can live with that.

         It was raining that day.

        Looking down from the terrace,  I had an old familiar feeling. It was more of calm than gloom. I was just at peace with the present. The past   and the  future were suspended into the background  and I was simply feeling the moment.  Immersed in the actual presence of things. Grateful enough to even have that moment to start afresh. 

    I was watching the rain continuously drain into the red canopy  and   eventually  making  the  tip-tap  sound   as the water poured  into the  pots of plants. There  were  two trees on both  sides.  Their leaves were a lush of green.  Under their  shades were  benches  that looked like  huge wheels.  I was   just there  captivated by the  soothing calmness as  I watched   the grey clouds pool together   warning of heavier rains. Looking beyond the  fence, I saw   a well-kept  lawn where I imagined   lying  down  while  the raindrops  drench me.  Unafraid of the cold. Just welcoming the sky above me. Appreciating its boundlessness.

          I touched the  railings of  the terrace  and it  was cold. The rain was  already sipping through the glass windows. The cars were  neatly parked.  Two men   passed  by with their raincoats on.   Some children were   happily splashing the waters on the streets. I remembered  how my brothers and I used to be during rainy  days  of  our  childhood. We would race climbing on trees back home and shake the branches  for   more dew drops. 

 Then  we would all plunge  in the well nearby and catch  tadpoles  while   frogs  make  noises under the rain. We  still  have that  well back  home, although it looked really big when we were kids.

            The rain brought fond memories.   That day, I appreciated the pleasure of the moment. I was made aware of   my breathing and of the life  I have.  I was there just sensing the world I’m in.   More  conscious of the  fleetingness of time.  Just appreciative of the  presence of life   in me and  around me. Not curious of the future, not critical of the past. Just making small steps within my present reality. Unhurried  and  uncomplicated.  Raw. And I savored it before  worries  and preoccupations   set in.  Before   the unsolved issues of the past  and the  unmet plans of the future  come into the spotlight  again.

             That day was a brief lucid reality where my own “internal universe” was still and quiet. No rumblings of any kind.  Yes, the clouds were dark, the rain brought in the cold wind, the whole place  was foggy, but   it was  a good day. It never has been better!   

Sagada. So much has been said about it but those who have been there certainly have varying experiences. I would say, mine was of a different story, too. Before the summer finally ended, my friends and I endured the rough terrain on our way to what they call “Off the Beaten Path.”

Going to the Mountain Province was the farthest we had so far been and am especially glad to have tagged along. The pine trees, lofty mountains and rice terraces undoubtedly left a mark in us and for as long as our memory would serve us right, there will be imprints (in our minds) of the panoramic view along the trail and into the heart of Sagada. And just as we boast of having captured the view in our cameras, it was the place that, in truth, enchanted and took possession of us in awe.

The  trip via Banaue to Sagada exhausted us but thrilled us at the same time. It also rewarded us the fulfillment of having lived that inspiring experience. After an 18-hour travel from Manila, we finally reached the municipality of Sagada before dark on a Saturday afternoon. I could see that I was not the only one “beaten” by the ride.

At first sight of the town made me feel a bit disappointed though. Sagada as a tourist attraction did not measure up to my expectations. It was a small town with locals and there was nothing new nor exciting about the place. It was a commonplace and I thought I came all the way just to see a simple town that did not look interesting.

But I adjudged Sagada too quickly and it was rude of me. We rested awhile in the Sagada Guest House before we went to see the Echo Valley where overlooking were hanging coffins. The next morning, off we went to find the secrets of the forests and savored the rich greenery and the serenity of the century old burial sites. We sought for solace and I, for one, found my heart peaceful.

That day, we travelled the trails to the Sumaging Cave, one of the most popular caves in the area. On our way, where it probably took us 20 minutes, there were pine trees with their daunting height. At the right, beyond the cliffs, we had a wonderful view of the valleys and plateaus. They were magnificent mountains and rice terraces, accentuated by the colors of robust trees and rich brown soil.

It was as if I was looking at autumn with the blend of orange, brown and green. It was a masterpiece of the Divine: the trees, the ricefields and the mountains were beautiful just as they are. It was a simple forest and planting field but it was not a commonplace after all. It was a sanctuary where I imagined nymphs and fairies dwell, where fireflies abound and the soft breeze and morning mist were the spirits of the woods.

Barefooted, we descended into the cave and in it we witnessed unorthrodox display of stalagtites and stalagmites and many other rock formations. It was a new sight and was pleasurable indeed. Sometimes, we had to immerse into the cold water just to get across.

Roaming, we touched the rocks and I could feel there is life in the walls of the cave. There were fossils among the rocks and they breathe some significant history. I have learned that the cave was created by water erosion. We no longer pursued the underground pool nearby because it was too dangerous to do so. Emerging, I know that I will never touch everything in that cave again and the rumbling waters will forever echo in my mind.

 We proceeded to the burial sites, one of which was just along the road and the other farther on the other side. It was amazing to see a different way of burying the dead and I admire natives who had thought of it. I also learned that the locals before bury their dead according to the manner by which they died. There were separate burial sites for those who died in child birth, sickness or natural death. That practice, however, is no longer observed at present.

In the afternoon, we hurried to the ( ___) falls which took us another roller coaster ride and an hour trek — one way. The view along the trail was surprisingly beautiful and I thought to myself that while the pictures about it were promising, the real thing was incomparable. This was where my personal journey began. Looking far as I could, I felt so insignificant compared to the vast expanse of space staring at me, to the huge mountains that say “I am mighty.”

Meantime, the trees, hanging on the cliff, found their rightful places under the sky and stayed there without complaints. They were beautiful at such an awkward state. God has placed them just where they should be, not one tree among the millions I saw at that moment seems misplaced. I consoled myself that if God had placed those trees at their special places, so would He find mine. Just a thought that rang louder than it ever did in my head.

We found the falls but the water was so cold. I just lavished the scenery: the waterfall was too lofty that the water broke hard against the rocks as they flowed to somewhere I do not know. There were playful kids with us in that “sacred place,” where one can whisper to the rocks one’s silent anguish or private hopes; where one can relay to the waters the desires that only the heart knows so that the water as it flows can carry whatever secrets it was given. In this way, only the rocks, the moss, the trees could exchange the secrets of a heart that unlocked itself in silence and found communion with nature which will never speak of what it had known. Then the secret will forever be kept safe among themselves.

I opted to walk alone on our way back to the road. Something in me prodded to shun away from the others for a while so I could listen more intently to my heart. I hungered for silence so that every step of the stairway back to the road was a quest for some realization. I looked around the cliffs and the steep mountains and I felt a bit of sting. I felt so misplaced and I envied the trees because unlike them, I still am trying to discern my rightful place in this big wide world. I envied them for the tranquility they offer and the simplicity they exude, while I, I am no longer simple as far as my dreams and ambitions go and I rarely find serenity amidst many concerns.

At such time, I felt to be a wanderer, lost in the world and hopeful to see where I fit. Well, enough of the drama. But I needed it, I must admit. Back to the municipality, we watched the stars at the rooftop. It was a truly romantic evening that awoke the dreamer and the poet in me.

 It was a time when my heart was both “still and rumbling” at the same time; wherein there was communion with the “Soul of the World” and solitude as well; wherein I felt happy being with friends and yet at some point I felt so alone. Yes, it was a night of mixed feelings and I, for one, needed to live that moment. Before we finally ended the trip, we stopped by in Baguio where a nice cozy room awaited us for the night.

It was Tuesday afternoon when we finally reached Manila to attend to mountains of a different kind: office files. On our way to Sagada and back, we have seen sights that delighted the heart and I must admit that my dream of travelling had come to life. I was filled with awe and I will happily sigh upon remembering our days there. The mountains were unconquerable, the sky (although we were already in high altitude) remained unreachable, the magnificent stonewalls in the cave could only be touched and memories were the only thing we had ever taken with us back home.

The whole experience in Sagada was like a dream and dreaming always ends with waking up …and so we woke up to reality, which by the way, is also an interesting adventure!

OLD POST

When  pain  is crushing  even  your very soul,  how  can  you  be thankful  for being  alive.

There are still a lot of lessons I’m learning the hard way, including how to be responsible for myself and how to express my feelings more to others, but there is something that I have been better that I think is truly making me a little happier.

“I HAD CLIPPED MY WINGS AND LIVE AMONG HUMAN”, I’ve stopped trying to change someone to how I want them to be. I’ve backed off a little and try to not over think anything that happens, just taking each moment for what it is and being happy that I even have that moment to begin with.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re walking on thin glass around someone and you feel like you have to watch everything that you say or do because the person will take something the wrong way if you don’t. And I hated thinking that someone that I care about a lot feels that way about me.

That isn’t fair, and honestly it can make everything a little less fun… which is exactly how I felt things were so far. The feeling to be better even when you know you are not. The feeling to strive harder just to meet up expectation. The feeling you have to pretend you are that good, showing them YOU CAN just to PLEASE OTHERS.

In time we grew tired, waking up one morning realizing we wanted CHANGES.
Isn’t that bad to start thinking MORE about YOURSELF?
I realize how selfish this must sound to some, but I’m going to be selfish… because I would regret it if I wasn’t.
If being selfish is a mistake then I want to make that mistake.

That’s ME..
I guess halfway in finding the real ME.

- just sharing this. I can’t remember where I found it but I fell in love with it. So there.

Think of the  times  you were at peace. Nothing troubles you. Nothing  disturbs  your heart. Not a single doubt   about your future  in your mind. Just  the silent peace  out  of knowing you  are loved and that Someone’s aware   of what you’ll ever need.

 Capture  this moment. You  want to live in  thankfulness. A state of  life that tells you  you are blessed. And  you  should  be thankful  that   while you  don’t have the things    you  want, you  have  what  you’ve got so far.

 - You  have  your family  with you  while there are broken relationships somewhere   in this  part of the globe.

- You  breathe  freely  like there’s so much ahead of you  while  others  labor  for a gasp of air. Some are sustained by a ventilator  while others  need intubation every now and then.

 - There  are a thousand  out there without   the gift  of sight and you  can just imagine  how eager they  are to see themselves in  a mirror.  They  have not seen the sunset on waters.  They have not seen  what a flower is, or what a bus is.  They can only  create a picture  in their mind about the  things that you tell them.  They can feel   you,  touch  you   or hear  you, but  they  can never see your face or the  glow in your eyes.

 Some  people   don’t have  what  you  have. And  you  have to be grateful for these things.

-You  can hear people  in a  conversation while others   try  to read  only  through   gestures,  facial  expressions or lip movements. Some  will never hear the soft spoken “I Love You,”  not  even the nagging of  a cranky neighbor.  Not even when the door slams,  or a screeching  vehicle coming near.   They  can only sense  by intuition  or by  the sight of things.

-  But even  SENSE  sometimes fails   thousands among us  everyday.  Some  people are  numb from  heartaches or loss  or personal tragedy.  A person’s  nerve pathways  simply  shut down and the  transmission of   impulses stops. Then  pathological condition  happens  and the person loses  awareness of  the  fundamental idea of “hot or cold.”

 - Some   undergo dialysis   while    your  kidney  still   performs the  normal filtrating process.

-Your  liver  continues to  metabolize fats,  your  glands regulate   your  hormones to a normal  level.  There is  homeostasis ( a state  of internal equilibrium) in your  body.

- You can still  recall   while others have lost  their memories.

 Can  you imagine  people  restricted  by physical disabilities? Can  you  imagine  the  number of people  rushed  by the minute to the  hospital because    they   had a heart attack,    a vehicular   accident, internal hemorrhage  or because of episodes  of apnea.   Think of those  who  lost awareness  of themselves   and went into coma, or paranoia, delusion, amnesia  or  schizophrenia?   They  are   those  who have detached    from  reality  because of  depression or because   specific   neurotransmitters  in their brains  suddenly   fluctuate from  normal levels?

 -  Imagine  the many  who  are  particular  with time  or  with the   food they take  because   they  are  watching over  their   blood sugar. Ask the diabetics.

 -Think  of those  in chemo or those undergoing lifetime  hormonal therapy.   Can you imagine the inconvenience   they have to go through everyday?

-  Imagine  those who,  in the  first place,  were never allowed  to be born because they  have   selfish parents  who were too   coward   to raise their  own children.

 -Imagine  your  life devoid of the  single “little “  blessing that  you  have now.   Then tell   me how  you  feel.

-  Yes,   you  are  lacking   while others are   abundant.   You  complain, all right. You  scream in frustration  and  you  sulk in pity   because others are  far more blessed.  These   things  console  you little,  you may say. And  your  sorrow  still multiply.   You grow in envy   because  others   still get the better  part   while  you  are stuck in between the  BEST  and the WORST. There  are things  that   are difficult  to make  sense.   But  this   I know:  that you  can still live in gratitude  for the things  that  you   already  have  and  for THOSE  YOU DON’T  HAVE.

 - You  don’t  have a ventilator  hooked to you.  You  don’t  have injections to take.   You  don’t  have medications to  regulate  your   neurotransmitters  because   if they fluctuate   then  you may  have bipolar disorder, Alzheimer’s  and Parkinson’s  diseases to  mention a few.

 -  You are a  well   person, equipped  with  useful  skills. You  don’t  have  your life’s partner   and  you  are growing impatient  but   you    are ALIVE   and   every day  is a POSSIBILITY.

 -  You   don’t  have  the career  that   you   dream about, the house  that   you’ve been  dreaming of,   or  your  own business that    could make   you feel  fulfilled and competitive. But  you  are  NOT DEAD, are you?

 No one is convincing you  to be content. Life is only asking that  you be grateful   despite    the aches in your  heart.

You grieve  for the things  that are not given you  even  when you  feel you really   deserve  them.   How can  we know the   reason why?

 No one  is asking you  to love  your failure. But  you  are asked to   continue  believing  that you  deserve more  and  you  can have them,  if not  today, then the next time may be.

 This  will not  console much  but these are hard facts of life.   Every  single  day   though, stands  for one thing: that  something  can change! That  your brokenness may soon heal. That you  may   get  the  big breakthrough in your   life. That you  can meet the one  you’ll say “I do.”  That you  can sing  and dance  because you  are well.   That  you  can be happier.

 The tide  will turn to your favor. The wind will change  direction. And the rain that  got you  wet and chilling  will give way  to the rainbow. If not today, then in another  time.

 Nature tells us  that there are rebirths;  there are  renewals. The day breaks to full light  only to  recede   for  the night  to befall.  The caterpillar crawls  before it   can have wings.   The  turtle creeps slowly  but it  still “ARRIVES.” The birds  have hollow wings   so they  could fly. And  sometimes  our lives need to be  hollow  so  we  could  be light  for  flight. Our  souls need to  embrace  the darkness  because  it makes us desire  to bring  in the light.   Our  hearts   at times need   to ache  so we can appreciate more  the idea of happiness.  And  frustrations    are inevitable so we can see that  we  are misplaced or so  we could see what else we need to  do  to get  to where  we want. Just like the turtle, we too  shall ARRIVE.

 Emptiness  tells  us  that we have a large vacant  space  to fill. Our emptiness  tells  us   that we can be “FILLED.“

            Now breathe. This very simple act   should  tell  you something  important, don’t you  think?

April 25, 2009 at 9:00 am 

I  sat   alone  by the garden  at  my  aunt’s place.  The wind   broke in  my pores, sending   chills    throughout  my  body.    Only  the   stars   illumined   the    sky,  casting    a   pale light  to  where  I was.

With  the wind, the branches  quivered,  so  did  my  soul.  I was touched  by   the serenity  that engulfed  me.  I had to keep my silence for one moment.  That single moment lasted   long..  Long  enough to accommodate  many thoughts.

The  night  went  on. And the  quietness  evoked something.

While many  things preoccupied  me, I can only  submit  to the  lessons  of that  tranquil night.   It was a time   for solitude  especially as my heart  was needing rest. I needed  some time  off  from  all that  disturbs  my peace… all that  pains  my heart…  all that  confuses  my  judgment… and everything  that obscures    my  true  vision. I needed   that   moment  to  reconstruct  my  goals and  to know the things  that    should truly    matter.

The thoughts that flooded in surprised me and I wanted to capture  them   so  I would never  forget.  Amidst  all   that distracts me, something   that  night  made sense:

Of  what  is  partner?

We  look  for a person  who is   going  to  be   our  twin soul.  Some  have   found  the one   they  feel  entwined  with their   hopes  and dreams,   while others  are still in constant search.  So   what  does   having  a partner   mean  to me?   Being    with  someone    is   like   finding    another  reason  for  a conversation…  its    finding  another   place  to  enjoy   the walk…it’s feeling inner peace  that   even  in the  great silence   there    exist  a conversation  that  only  the heart  knows.

What about  when  such partnership  goes awry? Then perhaps no matter how special the other person is and how much willing you are to love him (her) more, it makes sense to let go because you know that you deserve to be loved back much better. While he has his needs for belongingness, you know for a fact that you also desire not only physical but also emotional intimacy.

To find the person who complements who you are is like finding  another set of shoes to begin the journey with… towards growth, completeness and hopefully, contentment.

If your partner impedes your growth as a person, limits your world and defines life for you from his own perspective and dictates your heart to keep down its voice for the sake of holding the relationship together, or for by his actions you realize that he cannot be your solace, find the strength to set free. Free yourself from consenting to a life you are not meant to live because despite the many concepts about love,  romantic relationships normally should make one happy and at peace.

Relationships are never perfect of course. But if there are more dead silence than heartfelt conversations between lovers, more heartaches than laughter, more indifference than belonginess, or when you feel alone despite your togetherness, when you cry alone and he’s out there somewhere unaware of your own pains, try to let go of the hand that ‘s never meant for you to hold for long.. It is all right to sacrifice because there is no perfect match but sacrifice for the right reasons.

Do not settle for something less than what’s enough. Love sometimes is selfish because it wants exclusivity. And there is nothing wrong with that because it says something about commitment. Loving, however, is also a selfless act. And being selfless is not forgetting oneself or one’s needs, but a person in love  recognizes that  apart from himself  there’s a separate identity whom he is willing to compromise. Desire someone who is willing to step out of himself so he can also pay attention to you: what makes you happy or what brings you pain. He steps out of himself so you can meet halfway, blend your dreams and be able to grow with you.    

Having a partner means finding the  person you feel  connected with,  whom  you’d  go through life’s  difficult times with when the  good vibes falter and there is discord. Because  you still know that he (she) is your other wing. And life  would  not be as exciting   without  the other person because in him (her)  you  have  found  a special reason to look at life with  a little  more glare. Thus life becomes a little bit  reasonable,  a little bit grand, a little more tolerable because you have each other. And you grow tall together.

After all, growth is an essential element in human relationships. Love draws in something positive – that is a resounding fact I know. If someone  pulls  you  together and  makes sense out of your life, then  you have found your  Home. But if you degenerate because you are in love with someone, perhaps it makes sense to say that it is not  worth nurturing. Therefore, not   worth  your   time.

My teddy bear fell on the floor from the upper deck where I lay.

It was still dark but someone’s already up, making unnecessary noises. Putting back the earphone to listen to music, another roomate turned on the lights. How inconsiderate to those who are still asleep!

So here I am writing my journal as I could no longer put myself in slumber. It must have been God who wanted me awake because an insight suddenly fell on me from the upper deck where he lays but never sleeps. The soft music was the medium through which He spoke. It was not about the lyrics of the songs being played over, but the melody which touched my heart and saddened it.

I could sense the big lump on my chest and I thought about a beautiful romance that had gone by… and never to reccur.

For quite sometime, I have been nursing a broken heart.

I was deeply moved, deeply joyed, deeply hurt, but the pain remained deep down. Out where I buried the frustration and the regrets, the pain surged uncontrollably. Placing my hand on my chest, I implored Him to calm the ripples. Then as if God was speaking, it occured to me that something indeed comes out of not-so-good experiences. Yet it is not just something about a beautiful thing that will unfold after the pain has eased or a promise of luck for me. It is about suffering creating ripples in the lives of others while I suffer. I call it “affective suffering” where others become blessed whenever I am feeling bitter and hurt; where something good happens to others through my own act of kindness while my heart aches.

This may not sound new nor striking to others, but it is the very answer I’ve been longing to hear everytime I doubt the value of suffering in man’s life: whether it truly glorifies God, redeems others, brings good to other souls besides mine simply because          I suffer. I realized that it is not enough to simply accept and go through a painful experience and earn lessons, but to decide to create something out of my pain.

While I lay awake awhile ago, drenched in relived pain, I made a promise that I will do an act of kindness and mercy towards another everytime I am hurt. That would be my sacrifice.

My recent experience left a wound that would heal overtime and since I am not certain as to when my heart would ease, I thought of responding to every suffering with a sacrifice for others that becomes a grace for them. In this way, I could put my suffering into good use for those who are simply existing within my reach, most importantly, strangers.

So that whenever I would feel saddened and hurt, I would feed one or attend to the needs of another; so that as I suffer, someone is loved. So that as the hurt remains and painful remembrances occur within me, some good happens to people.

And as I suffer silently, I would look beyond my own sorrow (and the good that is to come my way sometime when my own pains have passed), and try to redirect my focus on others who become recipients of the grace. And through this act, as suffering is inevitable, Grace becomes inevitable as well. This is because, I thought, my suffering becomes a source of goodness which glorifies God, redeems others and somehow purifies me.

Now, I would focus on the good that I can bring out of my ill feelings so that everytime I would feel the urge to dwell in my sadness and grief, there will be those who are fed and touched. Then I thought of many of us who are afflicted and wondered how many there would be blessed if each one who suffers does an act of kindness out of their miserable feelings.

Then people would begin to look less hateful of their misfortunes and a lot of others are “graced” by the act of kindness received. I just thought that, indeed, how easily it is for us to love when we are happy, to radiate joy when when everyting is well with us. But it is difficult to love when we are hurting , when our hearts are full of anger, when we feel betrayed and there are full of regrets.

It is never easy to even desire to love back when our own hearts are mourning for our losses.

It is not easy to give joy when we ourselves have been deprived of it because of ill experiences.

But then, it would be a sacrifice that I would make so that my pain, though I cannot erase it, will have some deeper meaning. Now,when I have passed through healing, I would not look much on my sorrow, but the gift that I have given to some poor souls like me. After every difficulty, I no longer have to regard myself betrayed by circumstance, but DRIVEN by it to do an act of love while I hurt silently deep down.

Now, I would look at grief not more on how greatly I was afflicted, but by how many, including myself, have been blessed by suffering. Looking back, I would no longer focus on myself feeling sorry on my fate, but on life’s unpleasantness that turned to be redemptive. I do not know about others, but this becomes my calling so that the pain in the heart does not happen “for nothing.”

It was 5:30 and the morning was still young and my teddy, which was his anniversary gift, fell on the floor and disturbed my sleep. Then God’s insight befell on me and now I vow that some good will also fall on people whenever my heart hurts. Now, am truly AWAKENED.

(-written years ago.  Experience really teach a lot!)

I loved a boy in my past.

He was 14 when he was hit by a car while trying to follow me home. We were walking as we always do across the park towards the end of the river. It was 6 o’ clock when I saw him trashed to the street as the vehicle screeched for a break.

It was not his fault. He was always careful. He was always mindful. It was just that afternoon that he did not think too seriously. It was just one afternoon that a group of college brats suddenly appeared from nowhere. They were car racing and that boy’s life stopped.

He has been dead for years. I have lost his smile, his laughter, his silly look. It’s been four long years since I heard him whisper secrets to me, since I heard him scream my name from the rooftop of our high school building. I’ve lost a beautiful part of me when I saw him filled with blood as he was pulled from the street and rushed to the hospital. I was there when he was hooked to a ventilator, when the doctors pushed some volts on his chest to revive him. Later did I realize it was called defibrillation.

It’s been years and I still love that boy.

He’s not dead dead though. His in comatose. Almost gone. I can still feel him, his warm face, his beating heart, his breath. I still talk to him; tell him stories about my escapades and my suitors; share him my dreams. I still wait for his advice on what to do with my life, on how to trust another guy. I still await to hear his voice whisper my name or just for him to look at me once again… or one more time.

The doctors could not assure if he will wake up. They could only say it is possible. They explained that recovery is likely if the cause is overdose of sedative; complete recovery is possible if the cause is low blood sugar that lasted for an hour. If it is head injury, substantial recovery may occur even if the coma lasts several weeks but not if it lasts more than three months. However, if the cause is cardiac arrest or oxygen deprivation, full recovery rarely occurs if after 1 week, the person is still unable to move his limbs.

They said that COMA is a state of unresponsiveness that a person cannot be aroused, even with vigorous repeated attempts. Under normal conditions, the brain can quickly adjust its own levels of activity and consciousness because deep within the brainstem are nerve cells and fibers controlling consciousness and arousal levels (the reticular activating system). The brain makes adjustments based on inputs from eyes, ears, skin and other sensory organs.

Impairment results when the nerve fibers connecting the brain and the sensory organ malfunction, when blood flow to the brain decreases or when toxic substances damage the brain. Levels of impaired consciousness can range from reduced alertness (obtundation) to stupor (hypersomia) and to coma (complete unresponsiveness). People in the deepest stages of coma need a ventilator because the brain cannot perform essential body functions, including maintenance of breathing.

Head injury directly damaged the area of his brainstem that controls consciousness levels. Antiarrythmic drugs (Adenosin or Nutaphake, Amiodarone HCL or Cordarone, Lidocaine and Phenytoin) are given to keep his heart beating normally. Although, the doctors explained that sometimes, bleeding in and around the brain (hemorrhage), hematoma (accumulation of blood), tumor or pus, can directly damage the area of the brainstem as they place pressure at the site.

My own research led me to understand that apart from vehicular accidents, neurologic (cardiac arrest, aneurysm, infection, severe lung disorder, seizures), toxicologic ( alcohol intoxication, drug overdose), and metabolic causes (hypothryroidism, liver encepalopathy, kidney failure, extremes in temperature, hypernatremia, hyponatremia, hyperglycemia and hypoglycemia) can also lead to stupor or coma.

Doctors look for signs of brain damage such as Cheyne-Stokes respiration (periodic breathing from rapid to slow to none for seconds); unusual postures such as DECEREBRATE rigidity (head titled back, arms and leg extended, hands flexed, arms pronated, extended and adducted, feet plantar flexed) and DECORTICATE rigidity (plantar flexion, lower extremity internal rotation, adduction and flexion of upper extremities. arms flexion). When there is widespread loss of activity in all parts of the CNS, however, there is usually a GENERAL LIMPNESS.

Through the years, I have tried to understand what he is into. A year from now, I will be in medical school because I have a lot of questions that need answers. I need to know the possibilities.

Yesterday, I talked to my uncle who is a physician and he explained to me something about Persistent vegetative state, wherein a person is awake but devoid of conscious content. It results after severe brain damage when the cerebrum (containing thought and behavior) is destroyed, but the thalamus and brainstem (controlling sleep cycles, body temperature, breathing and heart rate) are spared.

In this state, a person can still open his eyes, relatively have normal sleep and wake patterns, breathe and swallow spontaneously, and may even show a startled reaction to loud noises. However, he lacks all capacity for conscious thought and behavior and he would only manifest reflex responses like jerking and stiffening. If it persists for months, recovery is unlikely.

Some people, though, are in the locked-in state, a condition wherein they think, but are so severely paralyzed that can only respond by opening and closing their eyes. They are conscious and the brainstem is affected but not the cerebrum.

According to him, Brain death is the most severe form of unconsciousness because the brain has permanently lost the ability to perform all vital functions. The person is legally dead, while the heart continues to beat. A person is said to be brain dead if he is unresponsive to painful sensation, not reactive to light, unable to breathe without assistance. Pronouncement of brain death should be made only after medical problems are corrected and EEG is done to confirm absence of brain waves and Doppler ultrasonography to determine absence of blood flow to the brain.

I guess, there is a part of my life that will never be bridged.

Sometimes, I already want to give up. My life has been half-dead, too, the day he met an accident. I have no memories of him since the day they brought him to the hospital, except that he’s lying in deep sleep. He will always be a boy in my past because, in my mind, he never grew up to be a man. I have been trying to understand how a “dead” boy can be revived, how I can pull him from that sleep and show him a world outside his bed.

I will pursue neurosurgery after I finish medical school because I need answers that will help me cope, hope or finally let go. I have my life, too, you see. I was not hit by a car 5 years ago, but that same day I became half-dead as he is right now because I loved him. Something in me also died that day. And just as I have been trying to wake him up, I must also revive myself.

But he hasn’t waken up. And I couldn’t reach to where he is. We have grown up and through the years, I’ve kept myself near him. This boy in my past doesn’t know me anymore.

And he does not love me, of course.
How could he?
HE NOW EXISTS SOMEWHERE I COULD NEVER BE.