Homecoming

Two of my old friends came back after a long time of being away from the city. I really missed having conversations with genuine people, so it was such a wonderful blessing to spend time with them this weekend. When you find friends that you can truly connect with, don’t let their friendship fade away. You can never replace priceless gifts.

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Dear Z and K,

For the first time in years, I’ve come to realize that struggles and sacrifices in life don’t just happen in vain. Wasn’t it just yesterday our lives were riddled with so much uncertainty and frustration? It surprises me how the years have piled up. Though it may have taken a while, I believe we’re right on track. We’ve started to become better people.

It feels like a homecoming, one that makes us grateful for all the light and dark places of our pasts. Strangely, even our unfortunate experiences are making sense. I only needed enough time to make out the good changes that were in store for us. It makes me wonder now why I was so afraid. But having fear made me see my weaknesses, too. Nothing has been perfect, yet I am still very thankful.

It astonishes me to see how much we’ve grown. Things truly did turn out for the best despite how lost we were. Unlike our broken pasts, I know we won’t break as easily now.  Today, we are stronger and wiser.

I've learned looking back doesn’t always have to be sad or painful. That allowing enough time to pass by helps you accept things as they are. Now I know what they mean when they say "time heals wounds." I've been wronged and I've hurt other people. Through time, I was able to forgive others, and more importantly, my self.

I am very happy you’re becoming the best individuals you can be. It’s rare to find good friends like you, so I am honored to be a part of your lives. Please know that though we may not see each other often, I will always be here for you.

Description

A bird with a cry like a cell phone says something
to a bird that sounds like a manual typewriter.

 Out of sight in the woods, the creek trickles
 its ongoing sentence; from treble to baritone,

 from dependent clause to interrogative.

The trees rustle over the house: they are excited
to be entering the poem

in the late afternoon, when the clouds are creamy and massive
as if to illustrate contentment.

And maybe a wind will pluck pff the last dead leaves;
and a cold rain will splash

dainty white petals from the crab apple tree
down to the ground,

the pink and the ground mingled there,
like two different messages scribbled over each other.

In all of this place must be
reserved for human suffering:

the sick and unloved, the chemically confused
the ones who believed desperately in insight;
the ones addicted to change.

How our thoughts clawed and pummeled the walls.
How we tried but could not find our way out.

In the wake of our effort, how we rested.
How description was the sign of our acceptance.


 -- Tony Hoagland

When the Clock Struck 9,

How do I describe a floating when it has gone before I saw it from within. What is left is
a feeling of having had. Did you inhabit a spacious room filled with despair? We breathe
then move to the next obliging bird that has not slept for a century. What has it seen? It must be ashamed of mankind, but I doubt such creature was not envious of our sins. Birds may fly, but they will never be luminously delirious and alone like me. I give words to my isolation. I refuse
to speak when I desire. Inevitably, I breathe, yet I choose my death. On most nights when I suffer from an excess of self, my inner shadow complains and makes an attempt to murder my outer self. I fail to make her understand that we were never apart. The fastest way to kill one another is to kill yourself. There is no other way. You always write it yourself.

You Occupy a Vast Room in My Mind

"Do you think happiness lasts?"

You asked this during our very first conversation. I was with K at mag:net waiting for someone else when we randomly hung out. You sounded as if your life depended on it. 

Eight years later, I still remember what I said: It's a feeling. It's not meant to last. My younger self tried to reason that happiness cannot be trusted. Then you asked if it was worth pursuing, knowing that it would fade out. 

But before I could say anything, my friend arrived and I left you without much of a goodbye. Unceremonious, I know. That's how many of my conversations were marked back then. For that, I'm truly sorry.

Still, how I wish I told you: Yes, your happiness is worth pursuing. Only, I wasn't sure of this then. I could have been more encouraging, but you didn't hear the answers you needed from me. Besides, I wasn't bold enough to chase my dreams. I had no clue what would make me happy. 

You wanted to live intensely. I wasn't sure if I still wanted to live. 

Today, I think you understand this matter better than I ever will. I don't even have to say it now because that's exactly what you're doing. Through it all, I hope you know I'll just be here for you.

Maybe in a day or so I'll remind you we had this conversation, though I'm quite sure you will not remember. (You're too shy to admit you were lost back then. Also, your memory has become ten times more selective than mine.) 

For what's it's worth, I want you to know that conversation helped me somehow. Since then, I made it a point not to take happier times for granted. More importantly, just like you, I didn't want to be afraid of life and the future anymore.

So, thank you. 

I don't know why I wanted to write about this. Perhaps I should have more faith in random things. 

Parable

First divesting ourselves of worldly goods, as St. Francis teaches,
in order that our souls not be distracted
by gain and loss, and in order also
that our bodies be free to move
easily at the mountain passes, we had then to discuss
whither or where we might travel, with the second question being
should we have a purpose, against which
many of us argued fiercely that such purpose
corresponded to worldly goods, meaning a limitation or constriction,
whereas others said it was by this word we were consecrated
pilgrims rather than wanderers: in our minds, the word translated as
a dream, a something-sought, so that by concentrating we might see it
glimmering among the stones, and not
pass blindly by; each
further issue we debated equally fully, the arguments going back and forth,
so that we grew, some said, less flexible and more resigned,
like soldiers in a useless war. And snow fell upon us, and wind blew,
which in time abated — where the snow had been, many flowers appeared,
and where the stars had shone, the sun rose over the tree line
so that we had shadows again; many times this happened.
Also rain, also flooding sometimes, also avalanches, in which
some of us were lost, and periodically we would seem
to have achieved an agreement; our canteens
hoisted upon our shoulders, but always that moment passed, so
(after many years) we were still at that first stage, still
preparing to begin a journey, but we were changed nevertheless;
we could see this in one another; we had changed although
we never moved, and one said, ah, behold how we have aged, traveling
from day to night only, neither forward nor sideward, and this seemed
in a strange way miraculous. And those who believed we should have a purpose
believed this was the purpose, and those who felt we must remain free
in order to encounter truth, felt it had been revealed.


 -- Louise Glück

Historical Fiction in Letters

August is the month of the Filipino language (Buwan ng Wika) and I stumbled upon this beautiful letter written in Tagalog. I haven't read anything this poignant in Tagalog in a long while, much less write anything truly substantial. But I do hope to read more beautiful works of literature in my local tongue.

Knowing it's fictional doesn't diminish the message's power. I believe it has shed light into so many possibilities when we think of our national heroes' personal lives. So please, read it for yourself.

---

1897 Mayo 1

Mahal kong Oryang,

Mali ka. Hindi kita nakasalubong upang sa dulo ng kalsada, ako ay liliko sa kanan at ikaw sa kaliwa. Sapagkat saan man tayo dalhin ng ating pakikibaka, ikaw lang ang aking itatangi at makailang ulit na ihaharap sa pulang bandila. Hindi tayo nagpalitan ng mga kwento upang sa pinakahuling tuldok ng pangungusap, ang karugtong ay alingawngaw ng katahimikan. Walang pagod kitang aawitan ng imnong pambayan, Oryang.

Hindi kailanman ako mauubusan ng salita upang maialay sa iyo bilang mga tula. Maging ang bulong at buntung-hininga’y magpapahayag ng pagsinta sa tulad mong umiibig din sa bansa. Hindi tayo sabay na tumawa, nagkatinginan, at tumawa pa nang mas malakas, upang sa paghupa ng halakhak ay may butil ng luha na mamimintana sa ating mga mata. Loobin man ng Maykapal na pansamantala tayong magkawalay, tandaan mong ang halakhak at sigaw ng ating mga kasamahan ay sa akin rin. Hindi ka dapat masabik sa akin sapagkat ako’y mananatili sa iyong piling. Hindi kita niyakap nang ilang ulit upang sa pagkalas ng mga braso ko sayo ay maramdaman mong iniiwan kita.

Habambuhay akong magiging tapat sa ating panata, Oryang. Kapara ng binitawan kong sumpa sa ngalan ng bayan, tayo’y mananatiling katipun, kawal, at bayani ng ating pagmamahalan. Hindi tayo bumuo ng mga alaala sa umaga, tanghali, at gabi upang sa muli mong paggising ay maisip mong hindi tayo nagkasama sa pakikidigma. Hindi ko man hawak ang bukas, nais kong tanganan mo ang aking pangako na ilang ulit kong pipiliing mabuhay at pumanaw upang patunayan sa iyong mali ka. At kung magkataong ako’y paharapin sa ating anak na si Andres, buo ang loob kong haharap sa kanya at sasabihin ko sa kanyang mali ka. Hindi ako bumati sa simula upang sa huli ay magpaalam.

Ikaw ang aking bayan,

Andres



Ibinigay ni Julio Nakpil ang liham na ito kay Oryang ilang gabi makalipas ang pagpaslang kay Andres sa Maragondon.

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Isang kathang pangkasaysayan ni G. Eljay Castro Deldoc mula sa "MAGHIMAGSIK: Mga Tula, Sulatin at Larawan ng Pakikibaka ni Andres Bonifacio at ng Kabataang Makabayan" isang aklat pampanitikan ng CEGP at Anakbayan para sa ika-150 kaarawan ni Gat Andres Bonifacio



*This post was taken from League of Filipino Students - UP Diliman Facebook page.

Lately

                                                                 "Homesickness"
                                                             René Magritte, 1940


1) I constantly had to remind myself that this is not my life. My eight hour job cannot define me. My brain dead mornings should not keep me from watching the sunrise. The three hours I spend working overtime cannot eat what is left of my existence. This is not my real life.


2) Four days ago, I wanted to disappear forever. Yesterday I no longer felt like leaving. I wonder if it's because I am content or simply too tired to go anywhere.


3) I believe in equilibrium, in the notion of stability, and it's illusions. It is a comforting kind of lie.


4) Truth scolds the ignorant. Some of us have never recovered.


5) I honestly just live to read. Perhaps even sometimes write.


6) What do you want out of life?


7) Save room for people, places, and events. Trust me. You'll never want to run out of things to look forward to.


8) I miss sleeping at night.


9) I don' know which is worse: The failure to forget a painful moment, or the failure to recall what it was that made you feel alive.


10) Now and then, I have to remind myself I am afraid to die.


11) This life is excruciatingly long and short at the same time.


13) Tell me why you're tired.


14) There is no way we're born to wait for weekends, buy shit to pretend it makes us happy, pay bills, and die.


15) And the city insists on defining me.


16) "Cruel is the gospel that sets us all free and takes you away from me." - Prefab Sprout


17) I stopped watching or reading the news.


18) Does your happiness outweigh your misery? Out of five instances, how often?


19) I will never get tired of finding beauty where it shouldn't be.


20) Don't go out too long without music.


21) What are you waiting for?