Rumination

While spending a lazy afternoon at home, reading a fiction thriller novel in my bedroom, and listening to Mozart, I can’t help but notice how everything feels different. It must be the oddity of having the luxury of time without worrying about any academic matter, but I know there’s something deeper than that.

I was away for only a year and a half except for holiday breaks and the short weekend trips I make when I have time. College is tough to deal with especially when away from home. UP makes it too difficult to beat. Now that I spend most of the year in the university, I try not to dwell so much in the comfort of being home, as the university life taught me that it’s difficult to build a permanent home in a temporary place. Learning this in college is not at all odd, as most of the experience I make in the university is fleeting. In college, it is always either a choice of treasuring every moment or a play safe by not trying to get a chance at something that could last.

After catching myself staring blankly in space, I realized how our house looks so similar as before. In my bedroom, my bookshelf is still a mess. My medals are still pitifully hanging on my curtain rod. The living room is still everybody’s least favorite place in the house. My sister still plays the guitar after breakfast before going to school and she still prepares everybody’s coffee first thing in the morning. Our youngest, my brother, even at 13, still couldn’t sleep at night by himself. My parents are still usually busy. My father gets visitors so early in the morning that sometimes we can’t start breakfast together. My mother still loves bread and even now still asks me, specially, to prepare her water. And like before, I wouldn’t get up from bed unless she walks into my room to wake me up. This is the routine I used to be doing everyday almost two years ago.

After noticing all of these, I then actually realized how things actually almost never changed. And if there is anything different, I realized it was I.

So these have dawned on me – my sentiments, emotions and opinions that were never in me before. Although this place looks exactly the same, I recognize a different form of familiarity. Even now, I am in doubt of where the new unsettling sentiment is coming from. In fact, I am considering if I am only overthinking all of it but when it stops me from what I am doing and plants a quiet beating in my mind, it feels overwhelmingly real. For the same songs bring another memory and the same scents smell new. Although only a year and a half in college is just a short time, home brings a far-fetched nostalgia already.

This led me to believe that changes really happen in a snap of time. I have always thought that significant change is a long process. However, five months in college changed me more than ten years in elementary and high school ever did. Because everyday in the university, I live a routine, which requires me to be independent from my parents, responsible for my own needs, wise in making decisions, and careful in trusting people. I have truly seen myself grow within my first three semesters in the university and it manifests so much in my attitude and outlook in life today. University life makes me know myself better. It makes me see the complexity of the society that I am in and convinces me to become a bigger part of it. It teaches me when to stand up or when to walk out. College is teaching me to be ready not for a career, but for a life worth living. It teaches me to choose to learn.

Now, I understand that the best way to grow is through experience. And behind this, the most important thing of all is the willingness to experience. Life is more than a concept or a theory that can be studied in one sitting through five cups of Americano. And when others make me do something, which supposedly prepares me for life, I know that it wouldn’t, because life does not always turn out how we expect it to be. Learning is a choice and it is through these times that we would realize that it is always the right one.

Back to that very moment, while observing everything in my bedroom and thinking about the stir of emotions inside me, I know that there is nothing that I should be worrying about. I was a naïve, clueless, afraid girl when I left. Then I changed. I grew. I made the university life my new constant. It is emotionally and mentally challenging to establish, but I made a home away from home.

Therefore, it is only normal if going back to my little hometown feels refreshingly nostalgic. It is similar to seeing an old me. And I think the best part of it all is that whoever I become, whatever my new home teaches me, however my opinion and emotions change through time, I would never lose this permanent home, even in this ever-changing world that I am in.

 

Author’s Note: This piece was originally published by the 15th edition of the CATALYST magazine as “The Clock Ticks”, by yours truly.

Rationalizing Existence

Recently, I opened up to my parents about a recurring dilemma that I’ve been experiencing. Far from their slightest idea, it’s about my “religious belief”, although ironic, as I started not believing in religion.

My family is a devout Roman Catholic. My brother serves every Sunday as an altar boy. My sister reads the verse. And as of writing, my parents would be the Hermano-Hermana in our church. Despite all these, I call myself an Agnostic.

I have long been a passive follower of the practices of my religion. For example, I do not get the point of confessing my sins to a fellow sinner, or literally believing what the bible says. As someone who has been passionate about science, I can’t believe that the ocean separated in half, that Jesus walked on water, that Jesus went back from the dead, that God made the world in seven days, and so many others.

Perhaps, my experiences as a science enthusiast gave me the first instinct to rationalize, rather than to further complicate an abstract theory. Needless to say, my father tried to convince me that Roman Catholicism is real, and that it could be the radical ideals instilled in me by my university that is temporarily blinding me from my life-long belief.

To start with, I don’t have a religion. However, I believe in a higher being – not necessarily the man who died on the cross and the man who walked on water – but a higher being who or which, started all the complex dimensions in the universe. I know the Big Bang theory, and how the Solar Nebula hypothesis could have consequently followed. I understand how the Earth and the moon formed, how the ocean and the atmosphere formed, how the first life on Earth began and how it evolved to the present majority of species -humans, us – by the Evolution Theory. And I view all of these in the perspective of science, logic, and reasoning. In 7.6 billion years, the Sun will reach its maximum size to become a Red Giant, that it will extend up to 20% of the Earth’s orbit, swallowing the Earth in the process.

All these left me to ask, what then is the purpose of existence and of life, if in 7.6 billion years, everything that happened would succumb to oblivion? Is there still God, after all life on Earth disappears? What if, like and together with all the primitive species that inhabited the Earth, we are meant for extinction? Trilobites, one of the earliest life forms on Earth, existed for 300 million years. Humans have only existed for 200,000 years. The human species is only a speck in the long history of the Earth, yet we have already claimed a lot. We claim to be in the form of the highest of all beings and the supreme owners of the planet. However, no one noticed how similar the human species are to animals.

Humans built civilizations, created their own set of laws and values, and even hegemonized it. The human species built institutions like governments, corporations, schools, banks, religion, etc. and along the way, compete among themselves. Humans are hungry for power and dominance. There is social cannibalism among humans. They started slavery, colonialism, industrialization, and capitalism. All these may not directly kill the prey, but they commonly degrade their existence. Perhaps, this is the evolved human version of lions feeding over their cubs. Moreover, similar to other animals, humans also feed on other animals different from their own species. Humans kill sharks, cows, pigs, chicken, fishes, and many other “lower” forms of life for food.

True to their nature, humans compete for survival, simply one of the key points stated in the Evolution of Life. After all, no natural law states that killing is bad, or good, for that matter. Nature is amoral in its very form, and the human species is nothing but a part and a manifestation of the innate processes of Earth. The only possible reason why humans would diverge from this idea is that humans are the most evolved species on Earth, thus giving them a complex brain structure that never existed in earlier life forms. The institutions that humans built are products of their brain, not of nature. And despite having such evolved physiology, I think that humans are still very naive beings to only know so much. Jesus was a human being. Prayers work because they are a form of meditation, like yoga, which enhances the quality of mind, further leading to stress reduction, improved health, slowed aging, etc.

Now, many other religious beliefs can be rationalized through other framework of analyses, with the broad range of science being one of them. I believe that the universe happened for a profound reason, and that all of these have inherent meaning, but we, as humans, can only make conclusions based on a limited range of facts and beliefs. I do not discriminate religions and other belief systems, because humans naturally find a way to make sense of their existence, and both religion and science are ways to understand life as it is. Life is an everyday discovery of our own purpose, and it is a personal decision to be influenced by others’ ideals, or to be individualistic about it.

As for me, I choose to believe that the nature of God is unknowable. God may be an idea, a theory, a phenomenon, an intangible matter, or it could be the purpose itself. I wouldn’t exactly know for sure. I could be one of the far products of a simultaneous explosion of a dense matter, and fortunately became a part of the complex human species to be able to think and to rationalize my existence.

Perhaps, what would keep me going is the faith that my very own existence and how it plays with the nature of existence as a whole has a purpose. I have faith in my purpose. Life is short and new species will evolve after my species, but I think life is the greatest chance that I have to involve myself in a continuous process of evolution as the natural course of events on Earth, or even in universe, perhaps. My life might or might not have an inherent meaning aside from being a necessary evolutionary phase, but if it is within my ability to be part of any positive causality in the future, I will take part in it.

As Friedrich Nitzsche said in his book, Human, All Too Human, “And so onwards…along a path of wisdom, with a hearty tread, a hearty confidence…however you may be, be your own source of experience. Throw off your discontent about your nature. Forgive yourself your own self. You have it in your power to merge everything you have lived through – false starts, errors, delusions, passions, your loves and your hopes – into your goal, with nothing left over.”

Boomerang

I write because I don’t want the tremble of my hand to be taken as fear
because one day sadness boomeranged and it hit me —
I don’t recognize the girl that I am.
So I gather all the strength I could from all the weakest parts of me,
but shards of different types of brokenness can’t make me whole.
I asked the humming of my silence but there was nothing.
The murmurs swallowed my screaming, then I was voiceless.
Often I think I am only overthinking the quiet as emptiness
because I write about anxiety and depression
but my mother calls my writing beautiful.
I am sorry for being too selfish,
for wanting them to honestly ask me if I am okay —
Not if I get enough rest, or if I eat my meals —
But if did I stop thinking taking the easy way out,
stop feeling like a visitor in my body, smoking secretly just to feel warmth
because I’m icy cold, chilling calm, exploding quiet, drowning deep
every night before I sleep, every night when I wake up
But they wouldn’t ask, for they wouldn’t know,
because my writing is beautiful.

The Ocean Told Me

Maybe he forgot, but didn’t mean to forget. Maybe the wind flew him to the sky, and he thought he was floating on my waters. Maybe he confused home with another place. And although he’s gone, maybe he will find his way back.

And he will know it. His mouth will kiss my saltiness. I will carry his exhausted limbs. I will wrap him with blanket as he sleeps under the stars. I will rock him like a child in my arms. I will embrace him. I will love him. And he will know how much I am true, when I wouldn’t let him drown just to make him stay. I will keep the tides low to let him swim freely to the shallow. He will find rocks to climb if he gets tired floating on the deepest parts of me. My waves will sail him to the sand when he misses the grits of sand between his toes. I will let him leave — even if it means not seeing him for a very long time.

And he will know it. I will not move. And I will occasionally reach out to remind him that I am here. That we could be an endless story. I will make him see the most beautiful sunsets. The calmest of the calm. The most quiet of the quiet. The most joyful of the bliss.

But if he doesn’t come back, it would be easier to believe that maybe he forgot, but really didn’t mean to forget. That maybe he confused home with another place.

And maybe one day, he will miss sailing.

An Open Letter To The Young Girl I Was

To the young girl I was, I barely think of you. I have already forgotten what you think about the world and what you were made of. And though I may have long walked away from you, it seemed I haven’t said goodbye, yet.

To the young girl I was, I didn’t realize then how amazing you were. You made me proud so many times, but, it is too late to tell you now, because you’re older. And perhaps, you have already forgotten the child that you were. You were brave and mindless of the people around you. You did the things that made you happy, and you were full of life. You were a promise. You learned things in the most unusual way, yet one way or another, you managed to get a grasp on whatever was given to you. You had so many questions in your head that you, yourself found bizarre, but you asked them anyway. And no matter how many times you were given an answer that never seemed enough to make you stop, your questions remained. You were never afraid. You were cheerful, optimistic, and always ready to experience anything.

I thank you for being the first one to ever believe in me, when no one else did. One way or another, it made me stronger. You were taught that you can dream freely, and so at the time, you dreamed and prayed your heart out so that all the best things would happen to me –and they did! Too bad, you were too young to realize that you were the first of the bests that happened to me. So I thank you.

To the young girl I was, you may not understand this, but I have to say goodbye. Growing up takes a lot of courage so I can choose the better decisions. And in the process, consciously or not, I lost some crucial parts of myself — old parts. Although I can always remember and look back, these parts just simply cannot be part of me anymore. I am no longer the same story from which these parts fell off. For some reason, they no longer belong to me. The dreams are yours, but the decisions are mine to make. And I am sorry if I am not strong enough to do both. Good decisions are not always the right ones.

To the young girl I was, please don’t cry. Just seeing your lips quiver breaks my heart. I am sorry if I have taken you for granted. I should have told you that you were beautiful and capable. I should have reminded you everyday that they were wrong, because you can save the world. I should have assured you that you were meant for something big. That way, maybe you were able to wait just a little bit longer before you succumbed to my doubts. I was wrong when I told you that you need validation from anyone, because this world, I learned, endlessly beats you up until it looks less beaten itself. I am sorry for doubting what you can do. I am sorry for not being on the same side as you. I am sorry for hurting you. Your wrist should be creased by our friendship locket, and not by a scar. You shouldn’t be tormented in your sleep. I am sorry if I used to overthink and scare you at night. I am sorry if I didn’t love you enough. I am sorry for all the wrongs that I have committed and forgotten. And the only way I could think of to redeem myself is to say goodbye now.

It doesn’t feel right to do this, but I learned that my sentimentality stops me from removing all the clutters in my life. You are one of the best things that happened to me, but I am no longer you. I want to learn how to live the dream that I unconsciously made for myself, and embrace it dearly as if it has always been the dream. I have made a road for my life and I do not know where this is taking me, but it’s a long single lane without turns. I see no other way but to follow this. And in accepting the life ahead of me, I don’t want to be set back by regrets of not listening to you. I don’t want to hear your tiny voice inside my head, because even if I know that it is no longer your turn to maneuver my life, I will let you. I am tired of dragging myself and I am afraid I wouldn’t stop to rest once I get a taste of it.

To the young girl I was, I am sorry if you have to grow and end up to be me. I know how difficult it is to be me. You do not deserve to live in a war that I have put up against myself. You know how it is never quiet up there, so I could only imagine how much you have missed your old self. I would understand, for I occasionally wish to be you once again, but I have to be stronger.

To the young girl I was, you have to go, not because I want you to die, but because it is no longer the right time for you to exist. I could only wish I have let you live on as I grew, because it has been a while since I have truly felt happy. I am sorry for wasting you.

And so until next time, to the young girl I was, good-bye.

A Confession

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I am afraid because I know myself too much yet
  I am afraid that maybe I don’t know myself enough.
I am afraid because I know the worst that I can do and
  I am afraid that maybe I can even do worse
I am afraid because I know am vulnerable and
  I am vulnerable because I am afraid
I am afraid that my constants are only consequences
  of some art of manipulation and
I am afraid that I am the manipulated, all along —
  And that my constants are just reveries.

I am afraid that I so easily get attached but then
  I am more afraid to know how it feels to be numb
I am afraid that I may be trying too hard to fight for it
  Just to know that at the end of all this, it’s not for me
I am afraid that I may be spending too much time thinking but
  I am afraid it’s all that I can do
I am afraid that I fear too much, but
  I am afraid, it’s my way to be tough
I am afraid that I may have killed the ideal kid in me but
  I am more afraid to succumb to the ones who died first.

I am afraid of being shut and silenced
  I am afraid that my voice doesn’t resonate
I am afraid that I don’t have a voice at all
  I am afraid that I was all along, a faltering echo
I am afraid of all the things that I cannot change
  I am afraid of all the things that remain the same
I am afraid that I may be staying for too long
  I am afraid I want to vanish again
I am afraid this is all a mistake I will one day wish to correct and
  I am afraid that I am the greatest mistake I have ever committed.

Snooze

Quiet Poetic

Sleepily, I look at the time
6:45 in the morning
I had been asleep for thirty minutes straight
Before the alarm went off
It was the longest nap
I had taken in the past week,
The calmest sleep I’d been in.

There are so many things
I need to accomplish today
But all I want to do is hit the snooze button
And erase it all with sleep.
I wish I could erase it all with sleep.

Instead, I get up and look at the white dress
Hanging by my closet door
I try to wipe the look of grief
Off my face
But I know I couldn’t anymore

In two hours, my life would be over
I guess I’d been delaying this
But no one can really prepare
A burial two weeks
after a wedding

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Wonder

Quiet Poetic

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So you go to parties and gigs with your friends. You welcome the crowded spaces you pretend don’t remind you of the walls in your world that are closing in.

You look at your friends warmly by way of saying that they are more than enough. They will always be more than enough—but you won’t ever be, at least not to yourself, and that is the danger in the first place.

You struggle to tell a friend you want to disappear again and it feels as uncomfortable as small talk with strangers. Every word you hold back is a pebble that you try to swallow.

And you wonder how that started.

And slowly, you edge away from the crowd, from the conversation, from the ones you love.

You drink the cheap beer handed to you, or the overpriced cocktail you bought to indulge yourself. It doesn’t really make a difference…

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