When we were kids, our parents would instinctively protect us by saying what parents of past generations would say: “Don’t talk to strangers”. Yet growing up (and by up I mean younger), sometimes I hope we become strangers to each other, not in the sense that we are threatened by the presence of the unknown another.
We meet for the first time, look each other in the eyes, smile, and if we’re more than lucky, spill our unfiltered selves and stories in a span of few minutes, hours, or days, which could possibly stretch for decades. We express more than we impress. Not being enslaved by the past or too conscious about molding an identity, we instantly become free and fluid. The connection turns out easier because destructive attachment or expectation is lesser or none at all. Then you part sooner than you wanted to. And though this connection might be fleeting and, on the surface, sad, there is a mystery to it that is ever drawing the two (or more) souls together. Travelers know this by heart. But can you imagine a world where even longtime friends talk to each other as if they are strangers? As if they are always evolving and always interesting that you get high conversing about the things that make your heart race because what the hell are we here for?
Pico Iyer described it as “the ones that play out in the soul, which have less to do with surface than with the interaction between a surface and a depth”.
The full moon appears suddenly when life was dull and melancholic, maybe even toxic. Its crescent phase decides to bless moments and they become unexpectedly blissful. These occurrences blow me away. Appearing in all the right places and times. They are endless, scribbled like doodles on my notebook. How will I read them?
The more I experience in life, the more I begin to see signs. The moon is full when I’m filled to the brim, a friend calls just as I’m thinking about them, I get a gig just when I’m worrying how I’ll make ends meet.
I’ve found myself becoming superstitious after years of being a skeptic of anything I couldn’t prove. But what is the point, even if it isn’t scientifically true, of taking the magic out of life? I’m returning to the way I used to think as a child. -Nirrimi of Fire and Joy
Our experiences want to be listened to. They have reasons underneath them that we will only able to understand after they surface into reality, may the experience be good or bad. There is no line that separates the two. Well maybe we can see the line, but our eyes deceive us anyway. The shift or widening of perspective ultimately changes things, everything if you allow it to. A rock becomes a pillow, silence and isolation become opportunities for introspection, death of a dream gives spaces for the flourishing of unexpected, new realities. Perspective is a powerful occurrence, a movement that will never cease, just like waves constantly marrying the shore. It transforms into a landscape of what many imagine as a “better place to live in.” It becomes an energy that reciprocates and spreads.
Knowing my roots in a deeper sense might just have made me one more element complete. It stuns me how one thing leads to another, and I haven’t expected I would be in a position to write these things (surprise me again, Masbate) since I got slightly numbed out from my recent small travels. And now, came rising sepanx (separation anxiety) and my guilty longing for it. More than a week has passed since those incredible few days and I just brought back something from home: it’s almost always how you are received in a place that makes you love the place. Yes, it is a common rediscovery waiting but I will never tire of spreading this magic.
It was one night in Altamar Beach Resort, but the total experience made all the difference. This was as personal as it could be.
Months and years pass like clouds, so so easily. While drinking beer and eating barbecue with friends in a darkly-lit, Mexican restaurant, a thought flashes amidst the talk and the laughter. It’s 2016 and I don’t remember how I got here. That feels horrible and disturbing. We’ve done a variety of adventurous activities and experienced them like it’s our last day on Earth, we met the most interesting and creative people from different nations, we achieved a mountain of goals and desires. But what happened? How come I don’t remember? How come I crave for more? It’s an excruciating thought, to feel like we traipse here and there yet arrive nowhere. No wonder many of us feel like we’re wasting our life. Time is not to blame, nor the quantity of activities we explore and the circumstances that unexpectedly occur, and not even the people around us – these are external, for the most part we can’t control. But something that we can is our relationship with the situation – this is internal. The quality of life wholly depends on our being. A thought flashes again. Mindfulness.