Reminiscence 2013

 Perhaps, this restlessness is my soul's creative outlet to prod me to write.  I've been having this feeling since my childhood days when I opened the watch that my dad gave me on my 7th birthday. I wanted to know what made it work. I broke it, of course. I never brought back the parts together, and my father scolded me because it was my first watch. I had to learn to read the time that was why he gave it to me. I did learn how to tell time eventually, but after having several broken watches.

This curious mind propelled me to visit certain places and engage in situations, at times risky ones, because of my penchant to search for answers that I had to know immediately. 

Hence, this led me to trek to the topmost part of the Ruins in Birkat Al Mouz. It was mid-afternoon on a cool Saturday when my friends invited me to join them on a trip to one of the tourist spots in the city where we saw the irrigation system called falaj that brought water to the various places in that desert country. Eventually, we decided to climb the steep and slippery slopes of the ruins until we reached the tower.  It took us 45  minutes to an hour to reach the top (to take photos as proofs that we conquered it!). I slid down several times because the soil was loose and there wasn't anything to grab except hardened rocks and dry bushes. It was the sheer determination to reach the top that pushed us although we almost fell to the stony grounds below. The way down was equally risky as we had to control the force that pulled us to almost sprint downwards and plummet to broken bones or worse, death.  Surprisingly, we survived unscathed! But that climb made us terribly thirsty, hungry, and speechless on our way back to our flats.

My family didn't know about this. I hesitated to tell them because I didn't want to be asked by the elders to go back to the safety of home in the Philippines. They could rest knowing that my adventures have been less risky since I came back. I've reached my limits. I've done riding zip lines, driving at 200 kph, doing out-of-town trips on a racer bike, and many others that I don't want to mention anymore for fear that I might be dared to do them again. Nope. I've reached the stage when adventures mean going to the beach, driving out of town at a slower pace, hiking on a flat surface (be it on a mountain or in the city), and swearing off zip lines. I've been contented and peaceful for years. The spirit has remained a bit dormant and bored, perhaps, partly due to this pandemic. Only time knows how and when it will give in to another stirring yet the safe pull of those riveting adventures. Maybe, it will come one of these days. Maybe, I'll just focus more on writing and live a vicarious life through my stories and poems. 

Exciting days ahead!

To soften the impact of the pandemic that seems to be perpetually overwhelming me, I would spend my days preparing lectures for my Saturday classes, writing poems or vignettes (to be developed later on into short stories), and adding more ideas in my journal article while rewatching "Friends" (that I've finished Sunday) and "The Big Bang Theory" (that I've just started today). 

Having such a free-spirited nature makes it more difficult to be confined in a room which, by the way, I'll leave on 28 March due to the ongoing renovation and on to a better, well-ventilated place near the UPV city campus- a one-minute walk! This is my 5th (!) move, which is serendipitous because I'll get to walk every day around University Avenue without the usual pollution and crowds. Besides, I don't mind moving several times as long as I find a place that gives me space to breathe and enjoy. It's also near the commercial establishments that I need and the Esplanade where I can frequent every afternoon for a sunset by the river. 

Anyways, today I finished working on the Accomplishment Report for January to March, packed my books and cookware, started folding shelves and throwing away items that I won't be needing at my new place. I've got exciting days ahead! 

The Poetry of Blooms #1: Blooming Truth

 The Poetry of Blooms #1: Blooming Truth

each wakening mind

amid this tumultuous time

is a bud that blooms

unencumbered and free

with the sunbeam's first light

bright colors shine

dispersing from life to life

its emerging charm

just like its lush flowering

when naked truth has spread

all unbearable lies and deceit

end with the foliage of majesty

or a thorny fall from grace

Propped Up

Propped Up

Unlike their women who were kept hidden

from the society in which men, 

though named as their protectors

were also their oppressors, 

she sat Indian style on the straw mat

in a room of that palatial house of mud.

With legs tucked under, feet

exposed as if they were shy, 

and girly-giggled that she thought

was lost and gone forever,

she wondered how her spirit

could ever live -  if she was 

sprawled on the mat, 

propped by big pillows to hold her up, 

imprisoned by the mud house that held her back. 

Just like her, many women in that society, 

longed to break the chains 

of minor guardianship,

of pseudo protection,

of blatant oppression.

But first, though difficult to do,

patriarchy must come tumbling down. 

Water Poem #4: Swayed by Gentle Waves

Tides differ in every season

just like emotions that

grow intense at times 

or thump steadily 

at each passing moment.

Water Poem #3: The Bright Shadows

The Bright Shadows

Dark and long shadows haunt those who witness-

Oh, four long years of maimed figures and unbreathing corpses,

of the sudden vanishing of youth and laughter,

sprawled on the streets, bloodied and dead.

There's a longing to be free from the sighs

of despair and the lifeless eyes 

from the one's left grieving.

Water Poem #2: Ferrying the Heart

Ferrying the Heart

One ferries from sea to sea

bringing nothing but a presence,

for the water itself, one that’s rich

with stories of sailing roughly

and reaching faraway ports,

is enough to freshen the heart. 

The waves lull a tired spirit

to have a respite from the chaos.

The wind that blows strongly

that rocks and tumbles the boat

are incomparable to the love 

that he brings to her ashore.

Water Poem #1: Bridge Over Still Waters

 

Bridge Over Still Waters

Under the colored bridge

still waters ebb and flow

in timeless rhythm,

always knowing of the depths

or shallowness of the bottom. 

In its going and coming

perhaps treasures 

and memories surface

then suddenly bury 

a sparkling stone,

a golden ring,

a promise of life. 

Or below it, a murk

of wastes and mud

perhaps hide the bitter tears  

of broken hearts 

and shattered dreams. 

Hugging myself more

 During a pandemic, I've learned to hug myself more 

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." ~ Oscar Wilde

Unattached. I've chosen this life (after exploring travel and romance which were not mutually exclusive and not in any particular order) that I enjoy tremendously for the perks that it brings, such as hatching adventures to unfamiliar places without worrying about who I leave behind, filling up a spacious bed that allows me to move freely during sleep, buying essential items without consulting another person, living independently from my family and relatives in a place that I choose, and engaging my hobbies that truly give joy and excitement in a variety of ways. 

Nevertheless, I never thought that this COVID-19 pandemic would suddenly materialize in 2020, and while living under my own steam in Iloilo City, a place that I've learned to appreciate due to my heritage, the idea did not faze me.  Besides, this knowledge of my heritage has inspired me to know the place more as well as to interact with fellow Ilonggos who have been kind and accommodating.  Interestingly, I've learned about this during my stay here recalling how my cousins and I grew up together and we listened to the stories about the late woman senator and the revolutionaries in Capiz from our elders and older cousins from both the paternal and maternal sides, respectively. This fresh information has made me resolute to stay on and to plan on a quest to confirm this once the pandemic is over.  Moreover, as exciting as it has been to discover a family here that I have yet to meet, I have learned a better way to ride the wave of this exhilarating possibility and to survive the seemingly ceaseless quarantines. My heritage, more importantly, requires a separate article once I have the facts. 

Undoubtedly, in this article, I'd like to be engrossed about hugging in moments that I feel vulnerable, to hug myself on days that I feel alone, which are scarce but have been poignantly emotional which I thought must be due to some hormonal changes that I know are expectedly inevitable. Whenever they become overwhelming, I find myself writing in my blog to let it out, and to place my hands on my chest to feel my heart as if to embrace it. My heart is such a delicate part that from it stems my love for every person that comes into my life. It is the core that I would always consult whenever I feel doubtful and fearful. Surprisingly enough, the experience of living alone during a pandemic brought out my talent for persisting amid challenges, a situation that I attribute to being heart-centered especially during the most difficult times. Hence, I have unhesitatingly created a hugging list for those who, like me, have been flying solo. 

Let's start with the assurance that all is well as long as we avoid reckless behaviors, like neglecting to observe health protocols and habits such as eating junk and remaining inactive.  Since we are in the middle of a pandemic, prevention is still the best game plan that we can carry through.