InsExpired
This is the nth line and I am not going to delete this anymore. Beginning a lament or prose or any writing is always hard for me. Perspectives are points of a sphere that surround a thought, thing or moment; and there are a million ways to write about that thought that I want to write about. I just have to choose one point…and stick with it. Unless, of course, my writing becomes “pretentious and contrived.” Thank you Angel.
I had another blog a long time ago, that I approached with utmost seriousness. I told myself that I’d write “beautifully” with the forethought of its effect on my daughter in the future. Well, that killed it. I stopped writing. Again. After a letter to Pi..nothing. I stopped writing previously because it was demanded of me - to write write write beautifully, na my sipa, with art value, blah blah blah. I died because I listened and accepted someone else’s standard to what should have been my treasure, my love, my own art. I died when I gave it away. Like I died when I set out to write for someone else, even my own daughter.
That last bit sounded “bad” didn’t it? But it’s not, really. It’s a truth. It may not be the same for everyone but it is for me. I am flawed, often stupid, and frequently ignorant and blind, but I understand that it is I who must work out and live out this life drama. We each have our own process of reflection, redemption, self-realization. For some, it may be cooking, working out, painting, sculpting, acting, fucking, dancing, playing music, cleaning the bathroom…for me, it’s writing. I cannot “share” the act of writing with anyone else and I cannot write for anyone else but me. To set readership over self-expression is suicide.
So what the hell am I doing blogging? Aren’t I being a contradiction? Not really. I’ve kept diaries and journals most of my life. And right now, they’re at the top of my bookshelf, gathering dust, rotting. I, too, have messianic tendencies…but it is not pathological; it is an acknowledgement of a responsibility.
I cannot force myself to be like the people I am surrounded with — artists and development workers trying to save the world through their art and trainings and programs — I do not have the strength, the talent, the focus and the patience for it. But, like them, I do understand and accept the truth that at all of us are responsible to each other. The problem comes in only when, and always, when we insist on setting common standards for what we can and should “give” to “help” each other.
I am, and for a long time, stuck in this cycle of confusion and clarity with what I want to and should do to best to help me be me and at the same time help the most people go through their own limbo. I am too uncertain of my own strength and space. A long time ago, in one conservation, my best friend and I realized that our strengths lay with how we set on paper, the ways we dealt with our own follies and glorious moments. She, of thorough and balanced introspection, I of humor and poetry. But I was and am regularly overwhelmed by the illusions of pain and pleasure, of relationships and weakness. And I forget.
Striving to be the Fool of the cards
I walk along the edge of this cliff
Dancing, standing, working towards balance-
A woman in flight…I land and stretch out on the sand
and the ocean washes my tears
a moment of dreams and rest
I stand at the cliff…and take flight again…
Like how those who “need” me will lead themselves (or will be lead - however they believe) to this corner, I found myself face to face with Warm Bodies…The Kris Aquino Complex. Thank you Angel, Freude, Louis, Noreen…thank you for making me laugh and cry. Thank you for helping me up, for reminding me of how much I enjoy writing. Thank you for being yourselves.
The most elusive answer, I think, to that seemingly consuming question of “What is my life’s mission?” doesn’t necessarily have to be “To be Mother Theresa III…” or “To be the President of the Philippines…” or “To be the one to develop the cure for the uncommon cold…” It is to be who I am now, this moment…to focus on this time, where I am… to be stupid when I am…to be in love, when I am… I thank you for reminding me of that.
