Plato, You Just Defined my Whole Lovelife

One day, Plato asked his teacher, “What is love? How can I find it?”

The teacher answered, “There’s a large wheat field in front. Walk there without turning back, and take just one leaf. If you can find one leaf that you think is extraordinary, it means you have found love.”

So Plato walked…and not long after that, he came back empty-handed.

The teacher asked him, “Why, you don’t bring any leaf?”

Plato said, “I can only bring just one leaf and when I walked through the wheat field I can’t turn my back. Actually I have found one extraordinary leaf, but I don’t know whether there’s any other leaf more extraordinary, so I didn’t take that leaf. When I walked further, I realized that the leaves I found are not as extraordinary compared to the leaf I’ve found earlier in my walk. In the end, I didn’t take any single leaf.”

Then the teacher told him, “So…that is love.”

Puncture

Like a ray of sunlight, you punched through a crack in my tightly-closed window.
I have learned to like the darkness, and I have lost my desire for warmth.
I wanted you and I did not. I wasn't really sure.
All I know is that, upon your touch,
Like a sunflower,
I looked up.


In my feeble attempt to capture what you incite within me, I wrote these.

Late Night Nausea

Last night, my sister told me about a private video of a famous and supposedly wholesome comedian. I was initially doubtful that someone like him will do such a horrid act but the video said it all. He was having sex with a dancer. And he's married.

I am no stranger to documented sexual acts; i have seen some, that much I can admit. But I have never felt this apalled. I honestly wanted to throw up afterwards. The act was just so repulsive. I didn't even see them kiss passionately. It was totally devoid of affection. The way they have magnified how casual people seem to take the act of lovemaking nowadays was just very disappointing. I've now lost every strand of respect I had for that man.

I'm not playing saint here. I'm actually more on the bitch's side of the fence. It's just so infuriating how some men would regard sex as merely a carnal instinct that needs to be appeased by shagging just any woman. That's the greatest bullshit ever. The second greatest bullshit is that women stupidly mistake this for appreciation of their beautiful physique and so they consciously let these men defile them.

In his book Eleven Minutes, Coelho struggles to understand the clamor for sex when, technically, the whole feeling of pleasure transpires for only eleven minutes. It has never lasted for a lifetime. So why do we let our whole lives be ruled by something that is very transitory?

I have never been conservative in my beliefs nor do I readily conform to the conventions of society, but I still would like to believe that there is more to the sexual act than simply the need to satisfy an urge. What we sometimes fail to realize is that sex is the ultimate expression of romantic love. And because to love is to see the face of God, it is also a way of communing with The Maker.

More than an act, it is the fusion of the souls. That perhaps may be the reason why when the act is done in the context of love, it hurls you to a different plane, as if you're being propelled to another dimension, to somewhere otherworldly. I hope that when people make love, they won't use their bodies because it is cunning and is sometimes blinded by desire. I hope that they would make love instead with their souls, because nothing ever beats that experience of total surrender when you completely trust, love and respect the person you are making love with.

Hey Pherick ;)

I asked you to give me a ring.

There were men after you who gave me rings similar to yours which I had lost somewhere or unintentionally tossed in the trash. I say similar because these were rings that were given to me out of your need to box me into your little self-woven worlds. To me, it was like putting a collar around a dog's neck for people to know that somebody already owns it. I am not surprised at all that these rings have tarnished over time or have been lost forever just like the relationships that produced them.

I don't remember asking for any of them to be put around my finger. It has always been you and the rest of you who decided on these things. Not me. Well, not until today.

Today, I asked for a ring, not because I would like to be identified as someone's possession but because I would like to remember all the time that you didn't just happen. You were chosen.  You were my decision. And every decision one makes entails commitment. I would like to be reminded that you didn't impose yourself on me; you are back in my life because I wanted you to be.

If you would ask me if I really would like that ring, my answer would always be 'yes'. I don't want anything extravagant. Any simple ring would be enough.

Last night, I was thinking if I acted on impulse. Was it the wine? Or the daiquiri? I guess not. I was praying all the time. Part of me would like to respond to your I-love-yous but the other was just so scared i'd only hurt you again. I know myself well. If I want something, I would demolish anything that stands in my way. The last thing I want is to break you again after you have done your hardest to put yourself back. I am not sure if I deserve your love. I would like to love you, but I do not know any safe means to do it, as if safety and security exist in love.

I have always known that you were the person God sent. For a time, I forgot that. But thank you for always coming back to remind me. Thank you for consistently turning yourself into the right person for me. I will not make any promise, but last night, the scene that I have always imagined in my head, the glass-stained windows, city lights and the person I love--they happened. And something tells me that I would like to do that forever.

One Step Forward

If there's one thing that I learned today, it is the fact that inspiration is not only found everywhere, it is also a choice.

You see, I've been struggling with my new position as head of a department since the start of the school year. Many people would get the notion that getting promoted is something to be happy about. It is. But what they fail to realize is the bulk of work that lurks behind the prestige.

For years, I have been performing well in the academe because I only have myself to think about. I have always been good in managing my tasks because I know myself well and I am my own worst professional critic. But how do you apply these to your colleagues, let alone people who have more experience than you have? I remember not having any time or desire to celebrate my success when all of a sudden they plucked me out of a zone that I had given my darnest to master and placed me in a completely different arena. I felt like a featherweight boxer who was suddenly forced to fight in another weight class. I was completely clueless.

Instead of giving me a boost in confidence, my promotion has done the reverse. It crushed my will and self- esteem. I didn't think I was good enough or ready for anything like it. I doubted myself many times that I could not even recognize my own strengths anymore. I was thinking that there must be some kind of mistake or lapse in judgment. I was not fit to lead. I was too insecure.

I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about the many things that I have to do for the day. I worried about problems that did not even exist yet. My health suffered a lot and I lost my appetite for food. My weight dropped to an alarming scale. I had dandruff and pimples started to infest my face again. It was a total neglect of self, because all I really cared about was how to handle this job well.

All of these have ruined me until today. Just this afternoon, I had this awakening. I was so tired of dreading every workday and seeing my workplace as a hellhole. I was so tired of getting stressed out, feeling uninspired and demotivated. I just made a choice to stop being the victim of a nightmare that I  had intricately woven inside my head. Nobody else could rescue me but me. I know that now.

For weeks, I have been going on a pilgrimage at a prayer house in Tagaytay. One of the things I asked of God was to bring back my passion for work. I realized that inspiration is not something you wait for, just as you wait for the sun to come out on a rainy day. It is a condition that you place yourself into. It is a dream you chase. It is a work you decide to do.

This reminds me of my favorite passage in the Bible about love. In 1st Corinthians Chapter13, it says that you can do all the good things in the world but any action done devoid of love amounts to nothing. I say inspiration is ignited when you learn to love what you do.

So starting today, I am taking control of my life. I recognize that wherever I am right now is exactly where God wants me to be.

The Purging

Today, I decided to clean up. In my world, where I'm the boss, doing something on a rainy Sunday afternoon is illegal. But then rules are made to be broken, aren't they?

This year, I decided to invest on a property. It's a house beside my parents'. Yes, it's so ill-located, I know. Not that I intend to really live here. As far as my future self is concerned, I still plan to live in a small apartment with huge glass-stained windows that give an amazing view of city lights. But since I haven't found that dream space yet, I'm going to have to settle in here for a couple of years, hoping to death my mother's right for brainwashing me into buying this property because its value increases over time.

A family friend even joked that having my own house would be an advantage once I get married because since I own it, I'd have every right to throw my husband out in the midst of a fight. They all laughed at the thought, until I reminded them that it would remain to be just that--a thought. And of course right after that they all switched to their "it's-not-really-good-to-grow-old-alone" nonsense.
That was my cue to go upstairs, lock myself up and blog.

Anyway, when I woke up this morning, I realized my grandmother (and housemate) has already left for the province and did not even bother to wake me up. She's been out and about these past weeks and I would always be left alone at home. I seriously don't know who's in her mid-twenties and mid-seventies anymore. She's always on vacation.

Since I have the house all to myself, I decided to clean up. I got rid of things that I no longer needed. I remember that Chinese people do that to get rid of bad vibes and give space for good energy or chi to flow. As I was cleaning up, I came across some bouquets and stuff that my exes have so generously given me. I thought of disposing because I don't believe in having an Ex-box to put them all into. Also, the dried flowers have started attracting insects that I could not even name. I decided not to be too sentimental. Objects can only carry as much meaning as we allow them to have. Once you change the way you see them, they cease to mean as much. Sad, but true.

You let go of the person, you let go of the things they gave. Well, at least those that are not very useful anymore. Like flowers. I still kept some, though. Like books, clothes, shoes... I just couldn't bear to lose them, especially when they complete a kick-ass outfit or contain a really fascinating story. Funny how sometimes you can't bear to lose objects, but you can easily let go of the people who gave them. I must be very insensitive, you may think, but I'm just really being practical. No offense.

I'm not even going to defend myself. It would be unnecessary. As Coelho puts it, "A woman who can conquer her heart can conquer the world."

Good night.

Promises, Promises

After watching John Carter on Star Movies, I now desperately want to be in another planet, preferrably somewhere without politics or kingdoms fighting for full reign. But this is really because tomorrow's Monday and two days of rest and leisure will never be enough to provide a satisfying escape from stress.

Today, I tried to overcome myself and won. I woke up early to go to church, something I haven't done in months. In one of my previous posts, I made mention of a covenant that I broke some four years ago. I made that covenant in that church. And you know what people say about getting lost, you always have to go back where it all started.

I made a promise to God, you see. I prayed about this man I had been in love with since my geeky high school days. I told God that if only He could make this man love me back, I would love him for the rest of my life. You have to understand that at that moment, I have never been so sure about anything in my entire life. I frequented this place countless times, always praying for the same thing. After a year, God answered. It was a yes. What I thought was an impossibility, happened for real. Just like in the movies. And just as I had promised, I did my best to love this man in the best way I know how. He, in turn, learned to love me as much I loved him. I would like to write that we lived happily ever after.

However, he left. And when he did, I realized that I had allowed my life to revolve around him and us too much that I didn't know what to do with myself after he was gone. I felt as if something inside me died. I was mourning for someone who was still alive, but some five continents too far. I struggled to get used to his absence. I thought it was going to work. I wanted it to.

I guess subconsciously I was lonely. And I failed to recognize that. Or even dared admit. He was doing his best to keep in touch, but for me, it just wasn't enough. That had been my mistake. Nothing was ever enough for me. I was always looking for something I couldn't quite figure out, as if the world was always depriving me of something. So I broke my promise. And after that, nothing in my life was ever the same again. Even I wasn't quite the person I used to be.

I guess some people just grow apart, either by choice, circumstances or force. I don't know which one of these hit me. Perhaps all three. The bottomline is that I hurt him. Since then, I have never loved anybody else with all of me. Not with the same passion, intensity or naivety. He was my first love, after all. I guess that's the thing with first love, everybody else falls to being second best, even if you actually end up with them.

So do I regret what I did in the past? Yes and no. I wish I didn't have to hurt him. But I also wouldn't want to change a thing. I believe all those choices I made, even those that I'm not proud of, led me to this. All of them happened necessarily because I needed to be here, and he needed to be there. I needed to be who I now am and he needed to be who he is now.  Just as Eve had to bite that fruit. It may be her fault, but nothing else could have put the universe in motion. It had to be done.

I still take responsibility for what I did. My guilt is deeply rooted. It's like a heavy chain that I carry around my feet as I try to move forward. This is why I refuse to get married. I know it's never going to work out with anybody else.

Today, I started to make ammends. I told God that in exchange for the promise that  I dared break, I am choosing the path of least resistance. I wouldn't make a move. I would let him guide me. He could take me anywhere he wants me to be. If I am meant to be alone forever, so be it. I suck at making my own decisions, I know that now. This time, His will be done.