Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
God talks to me during the most unusual times and I’ve always liked that, but this time it wasn’t very unusual, but it’s alright.
6:11pm
January 31, 2010
St. Therese of the Child Jesus Parish
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
I always wanted to get to know what love really means, you know. Because then I could have a fairly accurate answer every time people ask me if I have ever been in love. You know, like love love. I could check all the dictionaries in our house or even in the library, but I know that I would never ever really have a full grasp of what love is. Putting things into context, I’m not really talking about that different kind of love, about God’s love, because that is perfect and we have our bibles to give us good definitions on that. What I’m writing here is more about human romantic lovie-dovie stuff, so let the mushiness begin.
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
Love. Ugh. It’s something that is perennially elusive to me, just like sleep and closures. Anyways, I was sitting with my family hearing mass on that last day of January and we were approximately 12 meters from the altar when I had this sudden thought.
I did it painstakingly in my head and I’ve come to a conclusion, so I dare say that I have, at the very least, an inkling of what love is… scratch that, of how love feels. You can quote me on this one.
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.
“It just comes one morning, at that very moment when you find yourself entranced on that someone’s face and the whole world seems to not matter and things just seem to slow down and doubts, worries, and questions suddenly just didn’t have a place in your consciousness anymore, time stops, and you comprehend that the only thing you are aware of, aside from that face you’ve considered to be the same one you would like to see when you open your eyes every morning for the rest of your life, is your heart—that after everything, it finally knows why it was beating all this time.”
I guess when you finally here me say these words, it would be safe to assume that I'm in love.
But until then... go figure.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
That Particular Type of Freedom
The trees blurred as we drove past them, the sky was of a particular shade of gray that meant rain. It was my 21st birthday and I opted for the thing I wanted to do for a long time, to travel far and without my family because I am always with them, and I hope you wouldn’t take it the wrong way, I love them, but there really comes a time when you would want to be away from them even for just a few hours. I just thought that I would be getting a feel of independence though not as authentic since I would be using our other car and I would be spending money my mother worked hard to earn. But nevertheless, it would be the closest thing to feeling that free. And even though Lucban was just a mere 2-hour drive from Los Baños, I took the offer.
The night before, Pat offered to drive and so we invited other SFs, and it turned out only Maja was available to be my co-passenger.
The highlight of my day, aside from the rainy walk through Lucban, was actually the ride where we listened to the songs of my youth (I brought my CD case full of my yesteryears’ music) which were surprisingly Mariah-free.
I got a real chance to ponder on those times, my yesteryears, I mean, to reminisce and look back at how far I have gone. And it seemed symbolic that I got to reminisce those things with two of my relatively new but closest friends, they seemed to embody the people I have come to value as friends. Looking back at all of the people I became friends with, I realized how people come into our lives, how some of them stay and how some of them leave. The fact is some do leave, but some do return, but that does not matter at all because whatever they do, they give us something that would contribute to the person we would become… and with that they will be part our lives forever.
The reminiscing inevitably led me to look at where I am today, to look at the person I have become—the 21-year old Jerard which was seated on the front seat of his car wearing a seatbelt, watching trees blur while on the road to a place where a lot of his fond childhood memories took place. Even with the rain on my window, I felt really blessed. I can’t even articulate how blessed I felt at that very moment.
I wanted to have this road trip to feel the freedom I so earnestly desired, but I ended feeling a different kind of freedom… A type of freedom which stems from the knowledge that I can breathe, that I have eyes to see the beauty of life, that I have hands that are capable of giving love and showing kindness, that I have a voice to speak of good things, that I have a mind which knows the difference between right and wrong, and that I have a heart that still beats despite the scars and wounds it has endured. I am free because I finally understood that I have weaknesses, that I have limitations, that I don’t have everything, that I can’t have everything, and that I can live with it… that life is worth living. And that I am who I am—blessed, loved beyond measure and undoubtedly free.
Sitting on that car seat, I was wearing my smile for I have finally experienced that particular type of freedom and inside I felt like I was flying.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
The Buried Sun
I was sitting on the steel bench. Nothing unusual about that. The sun had just buried itself, ready to cast its familiar rays on the opposite side of the world.
A meeting was set, and I was anxious. I was happy to be given a task that would allow me to exercise some of my leadership skills and my organizing capabilities. My friends and I were set, for the meeting, of course, and for nothing other than the meeting. So I wasn't ready for what followed.
You walked near me, approaching the meeting as if to start it with your smile. Well, did you really smile? Maybe it was just in my head. I'm not really sure; a lot of craziness and hallucinations are involved in that kind of situation. I guess I'll never be sure.
My heart froze and breathing seemed impossible even at the glance of your eyes. Your eyes, yes, your deep eyes that seem to have a language of its own, oh how I've dreamed of staring at them every day as I wake up. You fixed your face on mine and our eyes met. And at that moment, time seemed irrelevant. It was as if a mixture of all the love songs in the world were playing in my head, a choir of heavenly angels was singing, and flashes of forever came to my mind and I was in complete euphoria. Sounds corny, I know, but I never knew something like that would or could happen. That gaze changed my life. That glimpse of forever rendered me numb to the fact that I was sitting on a cold steel bench, numb to the fact that when I came home that night and slept, I would be dreaming of that moment for two years, numb to the fact that we were doomed to fall apart; that we could never be. And now, even after all that has happened, you're still the one I want to grow old with. I guess I am numb, big time.
So here I am, sitting on this same old steel bench staring at the spot where your face was once gazing upon me. It has been two years, but the heat of that stare has endured. How could I beat myself over the fact that the heart isn't as smart as it ought to be? How can I punish myself for dreaming? For hoping? And who was to think that I could ever feel this way so strongly about someone? Even I am unfamiliar to the feelings of this heart that I own. And one has to wonder, will anybody ever learn how love really is? I mean, seriously.
I always thought I lacked courage, and never have I thought I would be able to muster so much courage with you. But as we go through life, we do indeed find out more about ourselves, about life, about God, and those realizations make desperate situations worth going through. And I found out, among other things, that I do not lack courage and that on that day, we did gaze upon each other's face, but we didn't really see eye-to-eye. And so after all that has been said and done, we headed different directions.
Now, just like the buried sun on that fateful day, you are on the opposite side of the world.
That's alright with me because I have this hope and I dare say that this hope shall never die. A hope that tells me that one sweet day, we will be staring at each other's faces and we will finally be able to see eye-to-eye. And the buried sun will no longer be.
A meeting was set, and I was anxious. I was happy to be given a task that would allow me to exercise some of my leadership skills and my organizing capabilities. My friends and I were set, for the meeting, of course, and for nothing other than the meeting. So I wasn't ready for what followed.
You walked near me, approaching the meeting as if to start it with your smile. Well, did you really smile? Maybe it was just in my head. I'm not really sure; a lot of craziness and hallucinations are involved in that kind of situation. I guess I'll never be sure.
My heart froze and breathing seemed impossible even at the glance of your eyes. Your eyes, yes, your deep eyes that seem to have a language of its own, oh how I've dreamed of staring at them every day as I wake up. You fixed your face on mine and our eyes met. And at that moment, time seemed irrelevant. It was as if a mixture of all the love songs in the world were playing in my head, a choir of heavenly angels was singing, and flashes of forever came to my mind and I was in complete euphoria. Sounds corny, I know, but I never knew something like that would or could happen. That gaze changed my life. That glimpse of forever rendered me numb to the fact that I was sitting on a cold steel bench, numb to the fact that when I came home that night and slept, I would be dreaming of that moment for two years, numb to the fact that we were doomed to fall apart; that we could never be. And now, even after all that has happened, you're still the one I want to grow old with. I guess I am numb, big time.
So here I am, sitting on this same old steel bench staring at the spot where your face was once gazing upon me. It has been two years, but the heat of that stare has endured. How could I beat myself over the fact that the heart isn't as smart as it ought to be? How can I punish myself for dreaming? For hoping? And who was to think that I could ever feel this way so strongly about someone? Even I am unfamiliar to the feelings of this heart that I own. And one has to wonder, will anybody ever learn how love really is? I mean, seriously.
I always thought I lacked courage, and never have I thought I would be able to muster so much courage with you. But as we go through life, we do indeed find out more about ourselves, about life, about God, and those realizations make desperate situations worth going through. And I found out, among other things, that I do not lack courage and that on that day, we did gaze upon each other's face, but we didn't really see eye-to-eye. And so after all that has been said and done, we headed different directions.
Now, just like the buried sun on that fateful day, you are on the opposite side of the world.
That's alright with me because I have this hope and I dare say that this hope shall never die. A hope that tells me that one sweet day, we will be staring at each other's faces and we will finally be able to see eye-to-eye. And the buried sun will no longer be.
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