who i would want to be

When I was a kid, I wanted to be an engineer. There were no wasted time, I studied hard, day in and day out until such time that I finished primary. That was the first step to fulfilling what I thought I had wanted to be.

As I grew up my niche had become wider, and as it had gotten broader and broader, my desire had constantly changed from one to another. In high school, I thought I could be a chemist or a botanist. I also thought of becoming a writer... a singer... a performer. I had never thought that the more I had gotten older, the more I had thought of different persona, either possible or impossible, yet these phases just passed me by.

I went to university, and all I knew I could perhaps discover what I wanted to be, but it all got more complicated. I developed this passion to paint, abstractly, I had no idea where did it all come from. Perhaps, my mind turned a little bit mature wanting to paint non-concrete impressions and ideas. Year after year, it had changed from one thing to another- from lawyer to reporter, radio announcer to composer.

I needed to work, but still, in my mind I had to achieve whatever dream that I had at that time. My first job was in an advertising company, but I felt it was not really for me. Then, I changed. I had become a customer contact associate for a foreign company, until such time that I realized that the shift was not appropriate for my health.

I tried being a journalist, but it just couldn't sustain my living. I worked for a short time being a librarian, but it just didn't fit who I am.

Now, I am a researcher, but there are nights that I wonder what must I become. At the back of my head, there is this fervent desire for me to be somebody - not the person that I am today. Yes, I definitely know who I am, but there is this person that I would want for myself to be. This inner yearning of becoming someone not I am today gets stronger each day. I am in a stage where I am trying to untangle the knot to finally experience the best I am. At my age, the clarity of who I want to be is a little murky yet the possibility is still achievable. In spite of all these, I will never get tired finding out that person I would like to be.

the old stricken tree

A subtle storm passed some months ago causing the whole city to be in chaos. One morning at work, I saw an old tree that had been down . Possibly, it was struck by the wind together with a strong rainfall during the storm. Long after, some men cut the tree piece by piece with a chainsaw.

All I thought the old tree was gone forever knowing that there was nothing left but the big brown seemed rotten lower trunk of it. Every morning I parked my motorcycle near that place where the old tree stood for a long time. As time went by, I have learned to accept that the old tree was gone.

Rainy season came. Day after day, night after night, rain poured hard out  in the city. For almost a week, water did not cease to leave the city.

As I was sitting in the saddle of my motorcycle with my eyes gazing towards the then stricken old tree, I noticed something different with the left part of it. There were something around it; something that I did not expect to show up. I went closer to have a bigger look at it. To my amazement, yes, there were small green branches waving out of the trunk. I touched them, and found out, they were real scions.

No matter how old we are, if we are firmly rooted with our beliefs and principles in life, no powerful disasters can strike us down.  Not even the most devastating storm can destroy us forever. We may fall, but it doesn't mean we can't rise.

a bug's tale

One morning while a man was walking along a corridor, he saw a bug. He knew it was harmless. Odd to say that this bug has caught his attention for the second time that week. He thought this time, “Why this bug is lying on its back again?” Earlier that week, it was in a supine position that he flipped it into its normal position.

There were three different ideas that came to his senses.

First, he would like to just pass it by. He would assume that eventually it would rise up again and fly to wherever it wanted. It could wag continuously its legs until such time that it could return to its normal position. Another thought was that maybe there would be another person who could distinguish the bug and do the same as he did the first time. Someone might be willing to help the bug to its normal position.

Second, because of human instinct, of course, he would help the bug again to bring it back to its normal life. It would be pitiful for it to be on its back for a long time wagging its legs or waiting for someone or any force to be back in its position. On a second thought, he would think also that this would have been the second time so maybe there would be no more next times.

Finally, in an extreme condition, the man would just trample the bug. Having it stepped on might be unnatural but possible. The man could choose to end this bug’s life in a just a matter of seconds. Helpless, so-to-speak, the bug could not do anything to protect itself, so, eventually it would let itself die from the man’s foot or hand.

Everyone has his own ways on how to deal with every situation. It is a matter of perspective. It mainly depends on individual’s frame of reference which includes experiences, culture, attitudes, knowledge, and feelings.

If you were the man, what would you do? 

river in the past

Change happens even if we don't want to. It is undeniably inevitable.

He is walking on the same river banks. 

The current of the water is crisply flowing over the rock formations. There is chirping of birds all around. There are those big trees. There are children frolicking in the waters up the stream.

Everything looks the same but all are totally different. Bizarre! How come it changed when all are still there almost the same as they were before?

Then, he looks afar.

He was walking along the riverbanks with his little sister while trying to catch some dragonflies that came awhile.

The current of the waters was crisply flowing over the rock formations where his friends used to go and dive. There was chirping all around with so much silence while he lied down under the shade of a big tree. His was the voice he heard together with his childhood friends' untiring giggles while frolicking in the waters up the stream. 

Once there were laughters. Once there was a sense of familiarity. Though everything is there, but it seems like all is gone. 

The past brings us all back to where we belong though life cannot pull back what is gone. But what it serves, the past, is that it is a testament of the way we were, the person we used to be. Funny how it works why only through a distant look or a simple closing of the eyes is the sole vehicle to get to the past.