Friday, November 20, 2009
I was maximizing my time in the shower, when I heard a loud man's voice from outside the house. Yeah, he was that loud! He was singing an old Tagalog kundiman, of which lyrics I totally appreciated while listening to him sing. He has rather good voice for a random street singer but sound reverberates old age as well.
After a few minutes, I heard him sing a more familiar song. It was relatively modern and too upbeat for his voice but he managed to sing it decently as well. I heard a sound of coins dropping on the street and an increasing number of pair of hands clapping in disbelief and a tinge of amazement. I would have gone to the window and have a better view of what's happening, but that would require me to put a halt to my only relaxing ritual before I start another busy day. But I couldn't help but feel moved when I heard him say "Kakanta ako hangga't buhay pa ko".
Wow. That's passion and hope out loud! Wisdom in its humblest form. And that moment it hit me. How the young despise their youth for all the uncertainties of what life has to offer, the confusion on which dreams to pursue, the drama of relationships, the surge of all types of emotions, the rush of unsustainable passion, and the pressure of proving himself to the world. And how the old despise old age for the numerous mistakes he can no longer undo , the opportunities missed, the battles lost, the dreams they turned their backs into, and the passion that burned out. Yet outside my home, there's this skinny old stranger with ragged clothes and dirty wrinkled skin totally contented with where he is and happy with himself singing la la la.
Lord, I pray that I learn to take things slow. Breathe in life and live with least regret. Appreciate the truths, carefully unraveling in Your time and be totally at peace with myself.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I have always been sensitive when it comes to what other people think of me. My sensitivity sometimes goes way beyond paranoia. It’s something I’ve never grown over. Call it pride. Call it trauma. Some skeletons in my closet have stuck real hard over the years.
But I have learned to screw the thoughts and live with what I believe in. I have learned to have faith on myself. And the world around me has helped me build a better image of my being. I think I’ve matured and healed enough to be able to look into other people’s eyes, see myself from there, be genuinely delighted with what I see and believe that the I totally deserve the appreciation they give me credit for. But sometimes, when a little prick touches that soft spot within, my whole world doesn’t collapse but I still break into little pieces inside.
But I see flowers and get the inspiration I totally need. Today, I may not be in full bloom but I have faith that someday, I will be. If not tomorrow, the day after, or two days after or three days after that. Nonetheless, I will not stop believing. And every time, I'll feel a little low, I will just look at a flower and remind myself that I will reach my full bloom again, soon.♥
Thanks, friends! ILY all! I owe you this confidence and love for self.
And to the person who almost ruined my afternoon, you haven't seen the best of me yet. Wait and see. As much as I hate you, I owe you still. For if not for that belittle-ing gesture you did today, I wouldn't have realized how much I've learned to appreciate myself thru time.