The Dance

I can hear the slow rock music captivating the hall. There are women dancing on the floor- swaying their hips and bodies to a tune that I am not familiar with. Some has men in their arms... men subserviently drifting away with their partners and the music. Men and women in each step of their feet crisscrossed with the life of the dance hall.

Then the world stopped... the room turned dark and the silence drowned the room. I stand frozen and the darkness is piercing my sight as I urge my brain to shift my reckless breathing into relaxed and rhythmic respirations. With my eyes closed, I could smell a man's perfume- strong and yet soothing. Then sporadically, as if the music is created underwater- fresh and shallow comes back into being. In sequence- piano, guitars, violin, drums and cymbals. This time, the music feels familiar but my cognition represses the memory of it. The drums sound synergistic with the thudding of my heart as if this heart inside the hurting chest commands the band. My senses are diluted in every way it should be, except this sight and touch.

I started to recreate a world out of the music: a large dimly lit banquet hall and a simple stage with a band of five unfaced men behind their instruments. No one else is here except for a man on a black suit with a fierce set of penetrating eyes and a sweet smile. His face feels familiar but his memory is lost. He seems to know me- every intricate detail in my being, every secret I have and thoughts that I had thought of and thoughts that I will think of in my tomorrows. He stares at me for long, longer than all my lovers' conversations. His face melts my reality and slowly I am being freed from the chains of my past and pain. He reaches out for my hand and as my fingertips touch his, I am permeated with a surge of joy and hope- the same emotions that had eluded me in years. With his strong grip, he led me to the center of the room. He puts my hand in his stalwart shoulders and slid his on my waist. He draws me intimately closer- too close that his smell vanishes and what is left to sense is his soft steady breathing drowning and pulling me immensely. His right hand clasped my left and he locked his fingers into my cold and sweaty fingers. I draw in one deep breath and he seems aware of it that he smiles, again. I can recognize his emotions but not his face- he seems very pleased.

The music changes its tempo. My heart seems to lose the baton of this hall's orchestra. He pulls me an inch closer ... too close that I lost the sight of his face and too proximate that I could only bury my face into his chest. I do not feel any discomfort because this man seems to belong to me and I to him. I look up to his face and tears are slowly rolling down his cheeks.

He leads me into a dance- his slow and assuring steps commencing a rhythmic waltzing around the hall. I am convalescing in his presence and I am willfully submitting into his grace. With the surge of joy, I can feel that my fears, my tears are gradually leaving a place of deceit, abandonment, insecurity and depression.

We dance the night.We dance until the day. We dance the days, weeks, months, years and moments away with each different music that our intertwined hearts are creating. We both could not feel any lost and recovery of physical energy  because we are but a one body.

I can now recognize who he is- in the midst of the slow and quick tempo and the shifting grasp and embrace of his, this man is no longer my stranger. He is my love and the love that loves my darkness, flaws...my laughter, happiness...my soul and my being.

I am home and the dance stopped.

The Irony of Happiness

A week of respite had given me the time and opportunity to declutter this multi-tasking head. And as I was pondering on grief and loss, I have found myself in a never-ending pursuit of remembering the times I had been at my happiest.

People all wanted to be happy and often people wanted to be so much happier that they have taken for granted simple joys life could bring. We search for happiness in the wrong places and from the wrong people. But the truth is, we can only find happiness if we have acknowledged that we are not and that in spite all the sadness, life is still a beauty to be grateful for.

 No one ever wanted to be sad or be depressed on things that we have no control of. If it is a consolation, every little circumstance in our lives has been predestined even before we set foot on earth. But sometimes, knowing that we have no control of every loss  is just not enough to give us the answers.

The secret to happiness is to stop looking for it and actually be at it. Cultivate a habit of gratitude and be thankful of simple things.



I am thankful to God...

"...that I had been given few intimate moments with my father. He never unfailingly forgot  my birthday as my day is just the day before his. He would write his birthday greetings on a scrap paper or a cigarette foil and hoped that he would give me a decent birthday card."

"...of the excruciating summer heat and remembered the time I was in a -30 degrees Celsius temperature."

"...of Godly sisters who would offer simple solutions to problems for free. Thanks Che!"

"...of the weight gain and that I have to go through this with my equally- fat-flaps-bestowed friends."

"...of the five presentations that I have to rush today. It only means that I still have a job to go back to."

"...that I woke up this morning to simply live this life out of second chance."

What to do when someone dies?

Death is a natural thing- in fact it is the most natural phenomenon on earth making humans more humane and vulnerable. People die, some die before others, some die unexpectedly while some die long before death could even happen to them.

If it is a natural and inevitable event, why am I totally clueless on the death of my father? I do not know what to do and I do not know how to grieve. Of all people, I should know this by heart since mortality had been too natural witnessing my patients' deaths. On the top of my head, I am aware that a grieving process follows the D-A-B-D-A pattern (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance) but right now I am not feeling anything in that spectrum. Was it because it is too early to talk about grieving and that I have not fully digested what has happened? Or was it because people has been expecting this sooner because of his condition?

As soon as I received the call of my uncle (my father's cousin), I was momentarily numb and clueless. I do not know what to feel and how to react. In fact,the first thing I did was to google "what to do when an estranged father dies?" just so I could explain to myself what I am feeling.

I never expected that what I am feeling right now comes too natural in Google having 18.5 million hits.  Though I have visited few sites ,  I just couldn't find the exact description of my current predicament- is it guilt, remorse, grief, disbelief or plain happy that he won't be suffering for long?

I tried to talk with some of my friends and family about it and even their advice was  confusing. I did cry and maybe wail a bit remembering few moments I had with him. But what really helped me think straight is the assurance that God had planned that the death of my father would happen on the 29th of March and on a Good Friday. And like any predicament I had before- I lay it before Him in full faith that He will take me where He wants me to be.

I don't know if he was a good or bad person in his life but one thing I am sure of whether he was good or bad: he was  my father and that I wouldn't exist if not for him.

And that I would miss him.

A Faithful Risk, A Joyful Heart and Two Helping Hands

Since I stepped out of the Chinggis Khan airport in the cold evening of February, the question: “Why am I here?” has always preoccupied me. 

E.M Forster in the book “The Longest Journey” once said: “A life without an ideal would be like a sky without a sun.” And I think it is, it would be a pity of having a life without purpose- like this bird forever chained and incapable of doing what it was meant to do: To Fly. 

What is my purpose here and why did I take this risk?

I was reminded how it all started: my first volunteering experience for UP Pahinungod in a remote town in Bicol Region seven years ago. I spent my entire two month summer vacation in a small community in Buhi, Camarines Sur while all of my college classmates were having their respite from the stressful hospital duties and academic classes.  I was eighteen that time and I was at the right time and place of finally realizing what I want to be after my college. 

We were popular in that small community, news about the three UP volunteers spread even before I set up my mosquito net on the day we arrived. They particularly placed me in a family of a bed-ridden elderly woman. I was a young nurse aspirant who back then knew nothing but taking people’s vital signs and a little pharmacodynamics of few over-the-counter medicines. I knew nothing on saving lives and that time I wasn’t ready of saving lives. Not yet.

 For two months, I had my own dose of “Tuesdays with Morrie”- different from the actual dirty job of nurses during emergencies. Although I did use the sphygmomanometer for a couple of times, had small health education outside the “sari-sari” store I was helping out and had been awaken at 2 o’clock in the morning of people having high blood pressure. It was not a “Nursing Spectacle” but it ignited my courage to take small faithful risks for the great plan that the Lord has for me.

Because His plans are higher than mine and His thoughts surpass my thoughts, He allowed people and circumstances into my life and molded them into His perfectly designed plan. Patients, friends, obstacles and victories- all took part in crafting me into the person I am now. 

After I finished my Nursing degree, I worked as a researcher for five months. My boss who has and always been my Christian mentor would remind me not only of allowing myself into God’s intricate plan but to abide by it with a joyful and humble heart. With all the countless nights of doing statistical analyses for her pesticides researches and daydreaming about carbamates and organophosphates for five months, my attention was drawn into doing health researches.

Immediately after my short stint in the UP-National Institutes of Health (UP-NIH), God positioned me in a charity ward in a tertiary hospital. I was young and idealist at that time, filled with a strong enthusiasm to try out what I had learned in college. Every day, I hoped for new and complex procedures; every minute, I was thrilled of having my hands and uniform splattered with blood and intravenous medicines.

 But I was disillusioned I could not do the complex nursing procedures I wanted to try out; I was surrounded by children and parents who had either life or death. I witnessed suffering and been part of it, I had seen how death snatched a child’s life in seconds and parents doing nothing to ease their child’s suffering. I had wept with them and wept for them. God positioned me especially in a place where I could see pain and affliction because He wants my hands to be dirty. He wanted them to be His helping hands. When you are a fresh nurse, you thought of yourself as someone who could save lives, I had once thought myself that way. But then, God rebuked me and made clear that I can never save a life, not ever; I could not even save my own. I can only touch people’s lives as much as how they had touched mine. 

Therefore, after five years of working as a nurse in a hospital, here I am in a foreign land with not a single idea of why I am here. Taking a post-graduate course in Public Health Epidemiology because of my interest of doing researches probably inaugurated this volunteering.  I do admit that I have always envisioned myself as a volunteer, probably as grandiose as working in WHO doing health researches. I may not have the luxury of travelling to countries by whim nor a hefty bank account, but I will go wherever He wants me to go, do whatever He wants me to do.

 I don’t have my own future figured out in a spreadsheet. I only have a full confidence that this risk I am taking now is a result of a mustard seed faith of the One who created this plan. With a joyful and humble heart, I have a full assurance in Him who would help me get through this. I am willing to get my hands dirty for Him because I know that…

my sky has its sun in Him.

  

Sunset at Saishand Train Station

Isaiah 55: 8-12 ( The Message Bible)

“ I don’t think the way you think. The way you work isn’t the way I work.” God’s Decree. For as the sky soars high above earth, so the way I work surpasses the way you work, and the way I think is beyond the way you think.

Just as rain and snow descend from the skies and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth. Doing their work of making things grow and blossom, producing seeds for farmers and food for the hungry, so will that words that come out of my mouth not come back empty-handed. They’ll do the work I sent them to do, they’ll complete the assignment I gave them.”

Enoch’s Steady Walk- my first month’s lesson

My blog has hibernated again- might be the freezing weather and my adjustment to a totally new environment. One month ago, I initially thought of not boarding my plane to Mongolia because I admit like everyone else is,  I am afraid of leaving everything behind and of risking love. Not to mention losing my sanity in a place where I could not even express my sanity.

Few days ago, I started pondering on Enoch and how he walked steadily with God until the time he was taken away by no other than God Himself. No grieving relatives, wake, death and decayed flesh. Enoch simply vanished. I imagined him in his bedtime trousers, eating his cereals and having a conversation with God about anything like politics or missing cattle. Then God just took him away- oh yeah on his striped trousers.

A lot of the volunteers told me that I will definitely have frustrations, disappointments and confrontations during my 16 month stay here in Mongolia. In spite of this, I am determined to live one day at a time, to learn how to laugh in spite all the negativities and to appreciate what I was given on each day. I decided not to run to my finish line but to walk steadily instead. Just like Enoch.

I began work on the 18th at the Bayanzurkh District Health Unit as a Public Health Educator for the EU Project. Since I am still new in the unit, it was not as enjoyable as work back home where there was the hustle of saving lives, the luxury of a beneficial communication and the comfort of a near workplace. But unlike in the Philippines, it is only here and only now that I learned how to walk more.

Every morning, I walk for 35- 40 minutes to reach my health unit. I walk tolerating the 1 kilometer distance, freezing temperature, dust and air pollution. (Trivia: UlaanBaatar is the world’s 5^th most air polluted city.) There were moments when I am tempted to ride the bus and spend 200 tugrugs for two stops and a short 5 minute walk. But since I started reading about Enoch, I am constantly convincing myself to walk to work to appreciate “walking”.

I have not given “walking” a considerable thought before. Who would spend a lot of time to think about walking except for someone who walks by herself and who thinks why on earth she is castigating herself by walking out in cold. I learned from my daily walking events that when the Bible says: “Enoch walked steadily with God”, he chose to just walk with his Creator. He walked not minding the discomfort of walking, because he enjoyed walking with God. He walked with balance and if he loses it he had his Lord’s hands for support. He walked on proper footwear because he was too clever not to have a sore feet or he would missed his walks with God. He walked in the right path and had not wandered on short cuts. He walked with appreciation of the beauty and never complained of repulsiveness of his surroundings. Perhaps he had been bumped, pushed aside, fell, slipped and bruised his knees on the way but one thing was sure, he walked steadily and never stopped walking.

I yearn to walk steady with God and…

Never complain of the cold.

Never stray on short cuts.

Be grateful on the peculiar beauty of a ruined city.

Pay attention to any risk of being pick-pocketed, harassed and bullied.

Not be offended on the strange stares I receive because I am and feel different.

Not to be entangled in  all the frustrations and disappointments of living in a new country and working with people of different culture, language and working orientation.

Arrive at my final destination.

St. Francis Drake's Prayer

This prayer was shared by Fermin Taruc III (1964-2011) who was a return volunteer from Zambia. He shared this during our WRV training last January and had inspired me with this endeavour.


Disturb us, Lord, when We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love

Metamorphosis

Broken pieces of vision and vigor love
Was wrecked by sour confusion and horrid betrayal
Was crushed by hatred and disguised mercy
And worsen by affliction and bleak hope for tomorrow.

An illumined knowledge darkened by false identity
Of insincere strangers wandering around
Bearing facts of morbid awareness
As they scorn proofs of unbounded truth.

Locked in the cage of slavery and sin, I can not breakthrough
From opposing forces of contentment and loneliness
Blinded by earthly wealth and endless felicity
Of acceptance and hearing serene music of laughter.

Day by day, hope tried to seek in
In every closed mind and cold heart
Bleakness of tomorrow was no longer seen
And lights of trust caves into the heart.


-Year 2003

Breath of Faith

His shattered trust compelled you to live with me
With fault and shame, His goodness I failed to see
You opened my eyes for me to realize
How forgiving He is to pardon all my lies.

The blood from your wounds cried out His truth and glory
But my ignorance tormented your pursuit
His calm endurance has made me believe
He is always with me as I walk with you in this road.

Imprisoned in sorrow and despair, I tried to escape
Your cold flesh unchained me from slavery
Stirred to a passion of gratitude I strained my own ear
And your honest assurance washed away my fears.

In the darkness, I stumbled down: I searched for your hands
The tears from my wretchedness brought me near to you
The warmth of your touch filled my heart with exuberance
Pouring my soul with immeasurable lenience and favor.


Your generosity, I etched indelibly in my mind
Like the sun that won't leave the skies behind
Your undefiled mercy penetrated the depth of my sinfulness
In your presence, my lost soul will rest.

This poem was written in 2002 and was selected as a finalist in Poetry.com's contest .

Dear 45 year old self

I am pretty proud of myself today. I enjoyed walking home and daringly traced a new route.Freshly painted houses and unfamiliar faces aligned this newly discovered street in Florentino.Walking helped me space out my mind and unclogged my seemingly cluttered ventricles. For the past days, I have been thinking a lot: of moving out and  being stuck in the moment ( humming a U2 song: "Don't say that later will be better.Now you're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it) and feared that in the end that  both moving out and being stuck have a very insignificant difference.

Dear 45 year old self,

This has come late, writing to you I mean. I should have done this while I was still in my early teens when daydreaming is as easy as doodling in a paper guided by a thousand  invisible thought bubbles above my head. Now, it has become too complicated especially for someone who have fantasized otherwise.Who knows I'll be someone who will count with preschool children on hopes to distract them while I stick needles on them or do some overwhelming painful procedures on them. Who knows I'll be this frustrated-but definitely-not disheartened writer who manages a few literary notes every once in a while.  Who knows what has become of me,except for the One who Created me.

I had everything figured out before. At 20 , finish ANY college course, earn a little, marry at 27, stay at home and be the best mom ever. Oh please do tell me, when I am 45, even if I get stuck in some phases a little longer, I'll still get to the last part pretty well. 

Dear 45 year old self, 20 more years and I will be in your place and just the thought of it excites me even more. (A lot of people did not manage to do so especially those involved in alcohol, accidents and addiction) On the other hand, a part of me is distressed that whatever path I am choosing now will only bring me to the starting point of being stuck. It seems like I have been waiting for the green light all along, only to find out that the green light bulb is busted.

Dear 45 year old self, will I still have my closest friends at heart? Now that we have grown apart, chooses different paths and have different priorities in life, nevertheless I know that we will always stay friends for life.Will they stick with me even at my grumpiest 40s?

Dear 45 year old self, will I still be bullied by my brothers even at 45? Will I stay gimpy and clumsy and break all our equipment at home? Will I still be the same person who plugged in an expensive 110 watt microwave oven into a 220 watt outlet? 

Dear 45 year old self, I know it's too early to worry on things like these. I know I need not worry on things that I have no control of. This is why I am writing to you. This is my way of reassuring myself that I am not capable of doing the right decisions alone, that I am too helpless to figure out what my future holds. Who cares if I'll get stuck up in this blackhole for 5 years or so. As long as God wants me to stay and He is still not leading me away yet, then I'll get stuck with Him no matter what.

- Hopeful 20 year old me.

Triskaidekaphobia

 Triskaidekaphobia - [tris-kahy-dek-uh-foh-bee-uh] - n. fear or a phobia concerning the number 13.

I was never a sucker for superstition especially that of the Friday the 13th;  the kind of person who feared  going out because it is Friday the 13th. For me, it is a blessing to be awaken by my Creator albeit my approximately a few REM cycles in 1.5 hour sleep cramming for my departmental examination in HPAD 201. I slept at 6 am forcing myself to digest a 3 inch-thick handouts on management concepts, policies, health marketing and economics. At 7:30 a.m., my head was throbbing in pain and heaviness and my eyes all popped out and blood-streaked. With still 40 plus unread lecture pages, I devoured the remaining pages without "chewing"- I studied without technically understanding the concepts. Friday the 13th had not taken its toll until the examination proper. I had left a few sections blank since i didn't have anything to jot down I had everything jumbled up in that heavy and stubborn brain of mine. When the exam was through, I thought I had the worst 3 hours of that day. I saw my first examination results and found out  that I had the lowest  score in the class. How can I pass this subject with the way I gauged in this departmental? I wanted to excel in my academic studies and be serious about it. I have tried really harder this semester than before and it seems my efforts are futile.

After the exam, we headed for lunch at Old Spaghetti House and had the worst pasta and chocolate truffle. I was literally depressed when I went home and got more annoyed with myself when I lost my temper with the pedicab driver. I wanted to just go home and unload every disappointments welled up inside my chest. He was apathetic and was delaying me from the comfort of a locked room and intent prayers.

Me: "Kuya kaya nga po ako nag-pedicab kasi nagmamadali po ako! Ang bagal niyo po kasi magpatakbo"

Pedicab Driver: "Ah... ganun ba. Mabagal ba?" (pedalled the bicycle faster)

Me: "Dito na po ako.Para"

 Pedicab Driver: "Dito ka lang naman pala ha. Nag-pedicab ka pa."

For the past days, I haven't had a temper outburst except now. Even at work, I persevered not to mouth off my workmates.I want to push myself harder on things like these. I don't want to hurt other people, much worse people that I don't personally know. 

I also missed Boyz II Men concert here in Manila with Suzie and the despedida dinner of my close friend Jo-Anne because I was really feeling bad and was not in the mood of going outside the perimeter of my cozy bed. Thankfully, the next Friday the 13th will be on May 2011.

I am shaking off everything that has transpired today, with a thankful and  hopeful heart, I pray to You, my Creator, that tomorrow will be a new day. I can never change what the past has for itself. I can never undo things. You had everything preconceived, my future and my heart's desires. I don't know what's next for me all I can do is to entrust everything in  Your hands my Lord.

Matthew 10: 16 "Stay alert. This is hazardous work I'm assigning you. You're going to be like sheep running through a wolf pack, so don't call attention to yourselves. Be as cunning as a snake, inoffensive as a dove."  - The Message

Yesterday's snippets

After a few months of hybernation, finally I am back! There's too much to write about: NEW LIFE,  new love, new realizations, new dreams and new experiences.

February 7, 2010
I am more than overjoyed to heed to my Lord's calling, on sponsoring a Smokey Mountain kid thru Alabang New Life's project of Metro Ministries International Won by One. Yesterday, after the church's service, I decided to commit my days, months and years to come to sponsor this kid. The support is invested in three thrusts: Weekly Visitation, Sidewalk Sunday school and Penpal program. It is a big commitment to stand up and be that one who can make a difference  and effect change to the kids' lives.It requires a mustard seed faith to entrust to God a fraction of His daily blessings.

Perfecting Imperfections

In a dark and damp room, I found myself drifting away from the vacuous cynicism of life, faith and love, in general. I realized that how much I try to correct every mistake in my life, the more I am incessantly reminded that I have no ability to right every inconceivable wrong. And the more I have tried perfecting every single imperfection that my egotistic mind generated, all efforts are just one set of missed baseball pitches.

I have lost the ability to recognize that sunsets have contrasting hues of black, blue, orange, yellow and red. What had happened to that little girl who was fond of watching sunsets in her hometown's seashore and that in every sunset she had, all she could mumble in herself was that all her dreams will definitely come true. To that little girl, sunsets were her dream portals. And now, when I stare at it , all I see is just the sun setting and settling into the beds of the ocean's roaring waves. No more wishes, no more dreams, no more portals, just plain sunsets.

I have lost the awe in every falling star brushing thru the skies. I no longer recognize that stars fall just so they could meet their destiny... that they were tired of just hanging above the earth who had not once failed to be in utmost wonder of her twinkling and light. What happened to that old self who believed in happy endings and sappy first loves. Who rationalized less on signals, who did not apply the complexities of x and y variables and the square roots of formulae to figure out a guy's intentions.

I have failed to identify the difference between a full moon and its half counterpart, no longer recognized that the moonlight emanating from a full moon, half moon or quarter moon are all the same and has the ability to clear some of life's conundrums. I have failed to delineate the distinction of a crowded room to an unoccupied room. I realized that in a crowd of strange faces, you could not help but feel alone. People, yes people were meant to say goodbye. And it doesn't matter where, when and how... But the truth is, people do say goodbye.

What happened to that little girl who laugh in every blunders and spilled soda in her blouse; who was contented in life's simple pleasures of friendships and free lollipops; who had her dreams of perfect endings in love. What happened to her?

Maybe she just grew up.

One day at a time..

"God shields us from most of the things we fear, but when He chooses not to shield us,He unfailingly allots grace in the measure needed. It is for us to choose to receive or refuse it. Our joy or our misery will depend on that choice."- Elisabeth Elliot ( Secure in the Everlasting Arms)

Just when I felt I am caving into this loneliness...God is just here giving me winks of heaven. All I have to do is to go through this ordeal one day at a time.

Self-pity (Part 1)

Mediocrity is something I cannot tolerate. I do no shortcuts or I don't look for an easy way out. I am not a fan of just making sure my work is done or being the second best. That is why people would tell me that I am being hard on myself. I tend to be insensitive because I focus too much on the work at hand instead of the people involved.

I am not likeable either. I am not the best friend anyone could ever have. I frustrate anyone readily easy. I am an introvert. My closest friends would complain on this nasty attitude of mine because I also exclude myself even from them. If you go to my house in any ordinary day with no prior notice, more likely you would find me there.

I recalled my ym conversation with Tsen. She said I have never been this cloistered and buckled within my own comfort zone. She knew me of someone who is willing to reach out to people and take risks. I don't know if this scary transformation I have had something to do with my personal conviction of "trying as much as possible not to disappoint them". When I was a bit younger I am contented with the notion that happiness in life comes after pleasing other people. Pleasing to me has been as easy as cooking a pasta. Oftentimes, I got it right but there are instances that I sogged it too much. I thought that if I pleased other people, they would accept me- all my inconsistencies, my mistakes and my twisted behavior. I thought that if I have enough medals in my wall then people would accept my own way of thinking and complicating things. And I thought if I haven't given other people an opportunity to love me then maybe I would not disappoint them.

I have a predicament on trusting other people; a fear common to a fraction of our human population. Mine is not different at all. I fear trusting people because I fear that I might disappoint not them--but myself. I have a "mirror syndrome" not the kind of naivety wherein one looks at their images on every reflecting window. I tend to explicit the same beliefs, notions and actions of whoever I am or talking with. It is weird that this is a conscious effort. The more I wanted to be accepted by other people, the lesser I become true to myself.

I wanted to be myself without hurting other people.

And God knows how I am trying to break out from this egoistic shell.

04.30.2007

It was difficult to fathom a voice not so everyday heard. A voice that everyday I sought but still could not hear the whispers. I once heard it fluttering my heart with wisdom, and genuineness but I was engrossed of finishing all and finishing once and so the hush was obscured...


Today I was at my third morning handling 2 intubated patients and fourteen more demanding a little of my attention and effort. I was on my first hour (+:10) on little aivyn. The moment i saw him I was worried on how he looked: alar flaring, tachypneic and pale. It seemed the vent lost its function of synchronization with my patient's efforts. But there's something in him, I could not impede in my cyclic thinking-- the way he communicated his fears. I was wondering how a week old child could communicate his fears without knowing that fears exist in the first place. His fears was explicitly expressed while he was gasping for breath in securely closed eyes. I think he feared nothing but losing and failing to fight for his life.

I am thinking at this second, of the fears I had when I was a child, and sometimes fears do come in a package like aivyn's: "gasping for air" and "in eyes shut". I feared a lot when I was young: I feared of growing up without a father, I feared of the numbing pain when hurt physically, I feared of not meeting half of everybody's expectations, I feared of being the only girl in the family, I feared of not being able to wipe my own tears and I feared not of crying but how to stop crying.

But as I earned years walking in the phase of this earth, fears became opportunities of God's mighty power.There maybe fears of inferiorities and emptiness, fears that the devil instilled in my human system. Every little fear I had if claimed in His Cross,fears are automatically erased.

Sometimes fears are so tangible and intangible- increasing its confusion and aftermath.Fears lurk in the deepest and darkest tunnels of the heart and without acceptance, these deceitfully snatch the only energy that shakes it off in the light.

In nothingness

The laughter we chuckled in plainness and ignorance
Conversations of nothingness and depth unoccupied me with you
And when I looked up to You
I cried a tear or two
These blosommed flowers; scented with mine and looked trampled
Can I hide a flower in my hand
Then throw it into the abyss tied in my rope
Could I? And yet I already did
I hid one in my heart and held on eternally
For the flowers bloomed not in scents-- in colors
That temptingly amazed me in mine
Watered and nourished that withered my soul in time
My soul with yours-clutched in graceful bopws
My heart and yours, I pleaded not to be disjpined
'Til I stared at myself amd saw everything in nothing
Then I felt nothing in everything
The tears in blank thoughts as I sobbed all thatwas filled of You
O tell me, have I wasted and emptied my everything in mine
As I shiver in this cold spine
Never moving in a distance, only at Your strides.

21 February 2007

No Longer Mine

Her name is mine.
Her thoughts: my thoughts and every flickering image played in fast forward and slow motion. How can I control these thoughts that are constricted in a controllable environment?
In every motion and in the stillness of time, it all pulled me into the ignorance of my soul. Your soul I drowned in grief because of the walls confining my movements. I vowed not to put these thoughts into actions. I vowed in tears that sealed those words, but then why?

Again and again… My name is hers.
My thoughts: her thoughts—these time the thoughts of guilt and shame. Who shall I succumb to? For no other one has seen me wail and groan in pain and no one even recognize a face that belongs to mine and the heart that was hers Pounding and pounding into this heart of mine. In every nails, bore down into Your palm and with every promises You instilled into this heart in a streak of Your rich-colored blood. I learned to unbecome me and to finally give in to You.

In my knees, I surrender my all to you. In my knees, I give you this life…
this soul…
this heart…
and this mind.

Just take this all away, take everything in me away… Take her life—my life
her soul—my soul
her heart—my heart
her mind--- my mind

In You, I am no longer her--- I am no longer mine. But I am Yours.
Yes, Your thoughts--- my thoughts. And in everyday, that Your heart and mine is locked in wisdom, I begin to know You and the You that I have to become.
Your name through The Cross—is mine.