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Posts Tagged ‘chance’

My child, grow as you would hope to be.

 

I am here, washing the dirty linen

and the soiled clothes thinking of you.

Who can tell? That the world in the future,

its circumstances be better. But I pray

that you may have the strength to face

each day with courage and dignity-

of choosing what is true and honest.

Defending what is right over wrong,

uncompromising to the virtues that I

am going to teach you. Please listen.

 

I am not the best and I am not perfect.

 

And I dream for you my child, a life anew.

Realizing the chance to fulfill the purposes

destined for you. Keeping steer of the pitfalls

I have done. Make a difference of your own.

Striving the very best that you can.

Standing up for what you believe in.

Though you may fall, there will always be

a chance to pick yourself up, to stand again.

 

Never quit. Never fear. God be with you.

 

And I hope you learn from my mistakes.

The misjudgment I did when I was

once a child like you. Growing up too.

Through my adulthood, deciding to love

another being and brought you along

amidst the pain, the hurt and the turmoil.

May it be- your life like these soap suds

clearing away the dirty traces of my past,

vanishing all the fears that I had before.

 

Starting the days wearing clean clothes.

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I once had the chance to swim the Pasig River when I was just about five or six, I guess.  An uncle, who was a robust teenager that time, invited by his friends, tagged me along with him one afternoon.  We walked across J.P Rizal street and descended some flight of steps going to the not-so-murky water.

Uncle led my hand and told me not to be afraid. And when we dipped ourselves into the water, I felt the river current slowly pushing its force against my fragile frame. Suddenly uncle let go of his hand, and I was left wading by myself. He just laughed and laughed, along with his friends to see me panicking and gasping for breath. When I was just about to submerge into the water, he just snatched my hand in time and landed me safely back to the steps.

I was panting heavily as I watched amazingly to uncle and his friends vigorously swimming against the river current. Hoping that I could grow instantly  and have the strength to swim as long as I wish. 

But when aunt, uncle’s big sister, learned of our little river escapade, she scolded uncle for taking me down to the river, saying that the polluted water could make me more sick.  And aunt blares her disappointment at the two of us and told  me that it is too dangerous to swim in Pasig River, and I could get myself drowned.  My mother has allowed me to stay at aunt’s home for the summer to have my routinary medical EENT checkups. 

I just kept on listening to my aunt’s endless rant to uncle and heard her say that she was really disappointed with me and could send me right away back home. But I just  smiled  and throw a toothy grin to uncle, silently thanking him for taking me down the river.

I am thanking him for expanding the fragiled radius of my being. A new-found freedom, to allay fear of not sizing up to what other boys of my age can do. I don’t want my being sickly hamper the extent of what I can do. To belong and be accepted to a fraternal brotherhood like uncle’s.  And it is a feat that begins my tearing down of the walls of my sheltered existence.  A youthful independence. 

I am thanking him, because that’s when I have learned to stand up and defend myself when I am being wronged. To keep up heading on even when the circumstances are getting against me like a fierce river current drowning all the strength I could muster.  To exceed the limitations of what my mind tells me that I can only achieve that much.

As a child then, I believe, most of us, have become warriors against our own. When we have learned how to be brave even when we were afraid and often get discouraged.  When we  are walking out there in the world,  somewhere, winning our inner battles and living uncertainly day by day, and never giving up. 

Pasig River is my Rubicon,  where a warrior child in me has been borne out of the mighty rush of the river current while bailing myself out for survival. An invisible force pushing me to edge out and discover frontiers I have never been to before, now possible and within reach.    

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Musically Challenged

I have always wanted to learn how to play the piano.  It is one of the things in my bucket list that I am compelled to do, fulfilling the goals I have set several years ago, but so elusive that I never found the proper time and place to learn it.  Even if I tried planning to pursue a piano class, it was set aside due to my regular work schedules.  A couple of musician and keyboardist friends tried to convince me to study piano and even told me that they can pitch in to teach me, but I was left waiting and wondering when will be the time they had the energy to do so.

It is a good thing that out of their kindness, they promised.  But that is enough already, and it has led me to nothing.  I have progressed to nothing when it comes to learning piano.  And for now, the eagerness and my determination to learn how to play the piano grew stronger and stronger everyday.  I am so excited imagining how many piano pieces I could be able to play, leisurely at ease.  Of symphonies, orchestra pieces, musical pieces, overtures, preludes and many more waiting there for me to explore.  A daunting challenge for me to know musicology.  I am not contented of merely being purely vocal.  I have an inner need to express more my musicality even further, realizing the inner melodies I have kept humming throughout all these years.

Some maybe surprised to know that I have the ability to compose songs of my own, while riding a cab or a bus.  I am getting inspirations straight from the vibratory rhythms of the car wheels and infusion of surrounding background noises from the street.  The melodies are still fresh on my mind, even if it was long, long time ago, since its very inception. A germination of the musical idea derived through the exploration of our senses.

They say, when a song has been born out from you through your everyday experiences and you still remember them, they are meant to be revealed, creatively shared and exposed for public enjoyment.  Artists had their unique lifestyle – a life of producing and honing their art for expression.  They have also a need for expressing their sublime thoughts, may it be in the form of music, visual art or creative writing.

I don’t believe, when somebody says that a person has a gift for so and so.  In my personal opinion, art can be learned. Talents can be  nurtured gradually through the influences in the environment, or  an individual’s ingrained perceptiveness to their environment and a by-product, or a consequence of an individual’s current life situations, circumstances and past influences. 

I also don’t believe in the notion that one has to spend a considerable amount of time in actually learning an art. Although it might have some merits. The length of time is not a measure how one can evolve eligibly to be called an artist.  Everyone, no matter what their ages may be, have the chance to become artists of their own right, for as long as they have the determination to decode their abilities to express themselves through art. There is no doubt that they will eventually succeed.

Artists are governed by the inner satisfaction they get while genuinely expressing their thoughts through their art.  Artists are governed by the truthfulness of their artistic expression sans the dictates of the prevailing trends,  norm or standards.  Having said that,  most of the celebrated pseudo-artists are merely egotistically bloated and widely publicized musical figures, just for the sake of personal advertisement and cheap breed of entertainment for profit.

True artists of our time are the ones who are hiding away from the spotlight and have chosen to disassociate themselves from the commercialization of the art. True artists, therefore, are the ones who are sticking their hands to the originality and authenticity of their artistic output. In one way or the other, they  might find themselves in the future, being hailed as originators of a new art movement,  a paradigm shift to the art scene.

So, don’t be surprised. I actually mapped it out, this time. I have listed down the things that I will do when I  have learned how to play the piano. Possibilities are endless.  I might have a new song for the choir to sing.  I might have a new song that I can play when celebrating an occasion, and the need for some light music arises.  I might have a recital to be witnessed in a concert hall by a selected few.  The grandest of these plans, might be penning an opera or a musical play to the likes of Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Chess etc.

These lingering thoughts, get me so excited as I imagine my fingers traversing piano keys and weaving some beautiful melodies.  It is a fulfillment that I think, would go beyond compare and can possibly exceed my limitations. It is a lifelong dream, bordering reality.  Soon,  and positively achievable.

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That day,

you made  the sky heavy-

falling tears like rain.

When a down-trodden

waded through a flood

of despair, and I am

walking away in shame-

as if the world

crumbled, suddenly

turned pale to gray.

 

My heart

I  offered in a plate-

full of strawberries

its first fruits.

But your words-

that rejection

knifed and sliced

into bleeding pools.

Until I am strained.

 

That day,

my eyes were opened

of reality here-

I am standing

this gulf

between us-

You and me.

No way

I cannot swim.

Nothing but to see you

faintly disappearing

while attempting

building

a bridge

joining you.

 

I have tried

finding a boat to ride.

Taking me there-

where you are,

but, all was a crowd

I can’t get through.

Trying-

finding another

path to cross,

but lost.

Until I forgot about-

You.

 

That day,

I made my peace

And I found myself

kneeling beside

a savior-

that wounded  feet.

This sweet sorrow

is nothing more

than a heartbeat

now belongs to yesterday.

And here I am

Looking-

the other way.

as He carry me

through another day.

 

Down at the wayside

perhaps, by chance.

I cannot cross

the other side. Maybe

you won’t let me cross

this great divide. And

losing what I think

is all I have.

This believing…

This hoping…

I stopped.

Since then, I know-

you’ll not meet me

there- a space

that would not be.

 

That day, I instead

I met the One

In a place, even I,

would not suspect.

Good thing is,

I began to see

how blessed,

when someone could

and would love me-

for what I am.

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She, who had made herself contented, in the quietness and peacefulness of domestic life and who has remained unmarried.  She never complained about loneliness of going solo, though I believed she had the love of a real mother to her children.  She had the most of her daughters and her sons, even if she never gave birth to anyone of them.  But I believe she had been more than a mother who understands beyond what she can see.  She listened by her heart.

On a cold, gloomy night, when a feeble-hearted child search for warmth, her side is a tender light. Her blanket of motherly love assures.  More than what she can give, she gave without question.  More than she can be able, she lifted their spirits up, when all the world has abandoned them.  She defended them like a mighty tigress. 

Far-away, her children journeyed long to find their own reflections in life.  And she stood by, each morning by the door, whispering prayers by the heart and remembered them fondly.   Her thoughts traveled by and lovingly cherishes memories of her children when, once, she had taken care of them all.

She speaks louder in her quiet gaze.  Her eyes can pierce through a soul and can decipher the deeper need of a child.  Child, she had taken them, nursed them to grow into strong women and strong men who never compromise honesty to be themselves.

She had lived enough to a chance.  A chance to love without expecting in return.  A chance to fill her days of love and not of regrets.  A chance to keep good memories throughout the days of her life.

She waited days.  And waited more for years until she hopes to see them in her own eyes.  Hug them so tightly as she missed them so badly.  They are her world.  They are what completes her. Until she takes her flight to the afterlife.

I never had the chance to say goodbye and say thank you. I am not there to feel her silent tears.

That is real pain.  A hole ripped off my heart.  And its beyond words.

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Today, I am enjoying my brisk walking in the sunshine, walking through the noisy and hurried crowd of departing passengers at the kerbside of the departures entry.  Then I pass by the arrival area.  There, the throng of people are  waiting for their acquaintances.  For their friends. For their families.

These are everyday occurrences here at the airport.  People come and go.  And the world is becoming smaller and smaller.  And airports are rigid entry points of security checking.  Of people being procedurally screened of their identities.  With a passport and a visa, notwithstanding a plane ticket for the journey.

I admit of my affinity to the idea of flying.  To airplanes. To uniformed cabin crews. To the view of the sky, the clouds, the islands and the sea in mid-air.  I like the idea of waiting in the departure lounges with the big sky framed by the window panes.

I like the sight of the apron and the runway.  I like the sight of airplanes parked  there at the apron with a number of lories.  I like the sight of the conveyor belts with luggages and packages lining up and circling around it.  Like expectant beings waiting to be picked up by its owner and carried through the trolley.

I look at life like that of an airport.  I consider, that, we are all passengers waiting for the flight with our luggages and packages, ready to be screened. May it be a booked flight with a guaranteed seat or in some occasions, on a waiting list .  A chance passenger.

I have never been a chance passenger.  I booked my flights in advance.

But in real life, I guess, I have been in many times, depended on chances.  A chance to be better. So I have tried and tried even if I fail most of the time.   A chance to be what I am destined to be. Even if I know the odds I will be facing is hard. 

A chance to be true to myself.  Even if people may have a different take on it, contradicting on my own.  A chance to love.  Even if I risk rejection, deception and hurt.  A chance to live.  Even if I face hardships and sharp detours in life.

I believe, we, are given the chance, to ride our airplanes.  To reach a destination.  But no one knew or can predict, how smooth or bumpy the ride might be.  No one knew what might happen in midway. 

But passengers, like us in real life, are  taught in each journey of safety instructions . Of aircraft features being explained.  So that  when things go wrong, we know of evacuation procedures.  We know how to survive.

It is up to us, how we  have understood.  It is up to us how we are going to put those learning into action. 

So the next time, when you had your chance to be in a flight.  Use every opportunity to make it better and enjoy it.  And be guided by what you have learned to make it right in life.  And if something came out unexpectedly. Don’t get stucked there.  Move on and take action.

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