Lunar Chant

Sunday, December 6, 2015

I had a dream last night.

It was just as strange as the most interesting dreams of mine have been.

I don’t really know how to feel about it.

I wasn’t necessarily frightened.

I wasn’t excited either.

I was probably sort of curious.

---

I was standing in line, along with my family. My parents were ahead, followed by me, then my little sisters. It was a long line. It seemed like the entire world was queueing for something big. It felt like judgement day. Just because when I look around, I didn’t see the world I know. We were in a place where everything around us was blurry, in tones of blue and green. The only clear vision we could get a hold of was the faces of the people, up to 15 steps from where you stand. In the middle of a wide blurry galaxy, we stood in a line on a long platform, black and shiny, almost a meter in width. That was all. An infinite railing-less bridge cutting through a sea green galaxy. Nothing felt real. But somehow, I just know it wasn’t judgement day.

Somehow we were told that when we get to the front of the line, we were to choose between two things. The queue took the whole day. Well, we didn’t actually know how long it went on because we could see the change of day. We didn’t know where the sun was, or if the moon was out there watching us. We couldn’t tell time. We were confused, me and my sisters, everybody, but no one really talked about it to each other. Instead we talked about other things, that make us happy. It was like we know we were supposed to do this, but no one really knew what we were actually up to.

As I was getting a conversation going with my two sisters, it was finally our turn. Wait. But where did mom and dad go? We didn’t pay attention to what was happening in front of us. We were told to choose. The turn was for the three of us all at once, but we could choose to our own liking.

They were lists. On my left side, the list consists of circumstances, which I conclude was ‘to live in the world you have known’. In this world, you will meet all the happiness earthly things can bring. You’re allowed to drink all you want. You’re allowed to love anyone you want. But you are going to go through pain, heartbreaks, and loss. But somehow they assured us that those pain will be pleasure, not like the ones you know from where we came from. Yes, you’re allowed to do anything you want, any sin you have known to be pleasurable, and will not be considered as sinning. There’s war and there’s peace. But both will seem just as convenient. What a great offer right? It’s as if it was a brainwash. Like here’s to the world without sin, but you’d have to live it all over again.

On my right, there was also a list, printed on white background. It had a simpler layout. But nothing on the list was familiar. It promised us a place of happines and full of content. It didn’t mention the specific features, but I could sense peace right then. We were told though, that we’ve never gone through any of what was going to be given there. We are to obey and follow some regulation, but was assured that they were doable as long as we’re in peace. It sounded more beautiful to me, although it was so abstract. It was tempting for me. The only thing they ever mentioned was basically about gaining an eternal peaceful state of mind.

Suddenly, before I could choose, I thought about my mother. What did she choose? I thought about my father, would he rather go with the first option? So I asked them. I don’t know who they were but I couldn’t exactly remember seeing them there. What did my parent choose? Can I just go whereever they went? But I was told that this was an independent individualistic decision to make. I started to get scared. What are these two places?

Then they told us that we were to choose between two worlds. We are going to start a new life, with a different family, surrounded by people we’ve never seen. We could live again from zero. So then, the family we once knew wouldn’t matter anymore. They’d be erased from our memories once we enter our new worlds. Nothing will feel familiar, because we would forget that we have lived a life before this.

I stood in disbelief. I knew right away what I was heading for. I wanted to know more about the world on my right. I looked at my sisters. Their eyes were wet and I hoped so much for them to make the same choice as I would. I lost my parents somewhere in one of those worlds. I was not ready to lose them too, although I know I wouldn’t recognize them once we’re in the new world together. Our eyes said good bye. But before I could ask them what I wanted to and before I could say a good bye in words, they BOTH jumped into the world on the left. They disappeared. And now I’m left alone standing there in disbelief wanting to jump to the right world but got too distracted from the pain in seeing the only people I know on that bridge disappeared.

---

And then I woke up.

I don’t know which world I ended up choosing.

But I know I wanted to live in the world on my right.

I can’t stand the idea of war and pain being possibly pleasant to go through.

Those people who chose that are probably too in love with the world we came from and was gaddamn curious of how sin can not hurt and destroy. How free a fun world could be.

But I didn’t like the idea. I wanted a new world. I’m tire of this world. That other world sounded like an awaited paradise. It was way more promising. It sounded beautiful although no one could really describe it. Am I wrong, or am I just too full of hope and expectations?

I don’t really know the meaning of this dream.

But I am scared now.

But God if you ask me to choose, I’d still choose a simple heaven over hell full of forgiveness.

A Dream About Two New Worlds

12/06/2015 03:15:00 PM

A Dream About Two New Worlds

Saturday, August 22, 2015

I am human.
Even so, to me, it is the most incomprehensible concept.
Yes, I’m referring to us, human beings.
Isn’t it funny how we are what it is, but we can never fully understand how we got here, this time and place.
We never know how these feelings work and why they’re there.
What do we live for?
We reach a certain age, and feel like it’s the perfect time to decide our very own purpose. The purpose of existing. How we love, what we do, and who we surround ourselves with. But then lies the hardest question, one you can rarely give a concrete answer to: Why.

I don’t play God.
But sometimes, I want to walk in other’s shoes so bad, I get overwhelmed with the idea. I get so curious about how they feel.
But other times, I can’t even justify my own thoughts.
I can’t tell if I would like to figure out more about my feelings than theirs or vice versa.
Because I can’t tell if it’s me against the universe, or is the content of this universe too diverse, that I appear to be just another unique speck of dust that isn’t the only one with such feelings and wonders.
Sometimes I get mad at myself. I feel so left out, not able to think and feel the way majority in our society does. It might not sound like a big deal, but when it happens recurringly, it gets to you every moment.

For instance, you genuinely give with all good intentions but end up not being appreciated. And then you wonder, what was so wrong about giving? Or did I just choose the wrong moment to give? And of course, any right mind wouldn’t make a sense out of those questions. But that could be an impact of a simple, overlooked response.

The same idea could go with any other good deeds. But why do you expect so much back? It doesn’t have to be because you’re hoping for something in return, in material. It isn’t exactly because you want to hear an applause. And it shouldn’t be because you seek for attention. It is probably just expectation’s doing. One of human’s biggest struggle. You don’t choose what to expect. You don’t even get to choose to not expect. I have written about expectation before, but I guess this.. is more about the different ways people think that lead us to those expectations.

Just because we feel one way doesn’t mean others feel the same, no matter how illogical it may seem. Just because we have an opinion on one thing, doesn’t mean others would have the same perspective you do. Even times when people actually feel and think the way you do, won’t exactly mean they will do the same things you would. They just don’t. I’m not going to tell you to not expect, because once again, we’re human and that is just one of the many struggles we’re stuck with. I can only tell you to try to remember that people will only feel and think differently.

I don’t play God, but if anybody could, I’m sure they’d play by making people feel the way they think they should feel. Which would lead them to do what others would want them to do. And that is when chaos happens.

Good day. Keep giving.

Where's the Applause?

8/22/2015 09:55:00 AM

Where's the Applause?

Ideation Personal Distraction

Friday, July 24, 2015

Happy memories keep clinging,
I try to balance it with all the sad thoughts, all the things that could make me hate;
The thousands I know I could list forty days ago.
I’m amazed to find myself digging
and couldn’t name any, nothing I could state.
I couldn’t make any sense out of letting go.

Disoriented. Came these thoughts that keep us away from sanity.
Was it nothing that we had to but wanted to do?
Or was it in fact something we thought we wanted and thought we had to do, but was actually something we never needed to do?

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The Cling

7/24/2015 03:48:00 PM

The Cling

Sunday, June 14, 2015

You laid out a smile for the world to see
Hoping it would reach souls sincerely

You stare at unfortunate individuals
Picturing yourself in their shoes and rituals

You observe other beings around you
Guessing and supposing their life issues

You try to tell yourself you’re not alone
But only to find you’re lonely and just lost your throne

The constant battle in your head
The phrases no one actually said

The lack of confidence and the misunderstanding
The blame, the emotions and the self demanding

The negative impressions and the silent yelling
The wrong expectations and the storytelling

It is you, it is all you.
You eat up what you thought you’d be happy with
Like the black lady spider and the say of ancient myth

It is you, it is all you.
No wonder no one understood you and keep walking by
You sit busily thinking so hard, you thought you had tried

No one could see through your skin.
No one will ever let you win.

As long as you contain the war in you,
You’ll stay invisible and blue.

No wonder you’re so angry all the time
No wonder you’re always left behind

Stop feeling so unloved, worthless and worried
For that noun never made sense in all of history

You’ll be fine.
You’ll meet another kind.

Another Kind

6/14/2015 11:38:00 AM

Another Kind

Ideation Love Poetry

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Through the looking glass, they watched her. She was broken for a while. Oh, they sure know all the sequence.

It started out in a night so cold, always the perfect medium for an exchanging of words like such; a dialogue of two opposing ideas and impressions. Two that will never blend. Almost like the diversity in rationality between science and religion. Neither parties had a clue of why they even started their story, if only they knew it would eventually end in such a way. But they were both humans. Irrational in some cases. They take a chance on everything. But perhaps they are always forgiven for taking a chance on love. It is the ultimate thing they actually ever live by anyway.

The young lady took a step out of the vehicle. She entered her room to find herself stuck with her wonders and questions until only God knows when. Poor little one. In daytime, she would seek for love and something in contrary with the negative beliefs and speculations she would run through at the end of the day. She was hungry for comfort. She was never alone, but would always feel solitude when dawn took place. She would then be impatiently waiting for the day to turn and see the coming daylight. Even though the pressure on her eventually diminished, she knew she would never have her logics as straight as it should until she found the rational answers she wanted.

Up here, they knew she needed a hand. As much as she tried, she still couldn’t find any down there on earth. So out of the two watchers, the one with the highest reign up here sent the other watcher down to get her out of her very own limbo. A place she owns that can only be seen by herself and the ones up here.

+++

She started to feel like someone was always watching her. At the canteen, out on the streets when crossing the road, at places where she hangs out with her fellow humans. The oddness never really bothered her until one day, her eyes met the watcher’s. She would usually look away when getting caught in such situations. But for that one moment, she was willing to study his stare. It was fierce, but it wasn’t mean. He wasn’t smiling, but it was warm. It was sharp, but she felt nothing was cutting through her. It was probably someone she once met, but he was just up to the primary level of acquaintance; never crossed her mind after their one and only encounter.

It turns out he was someone known by one of her close friends. The next thing she knows, introductions and small talks occurred all over again. She thought it was either deja vu, or both of them probably forgot they’ve passed by each other a few times. But he knew it wasn’t anything like that. He had just jumped in the scene, embodied a vague memory, familiar enough to gain her acceptance as someone she’d like to let in. It was really, just for the sake of protecting her and guiding her until she gets it right.

He started doing his job. Day by day, she started feeling that comfort. She felt protection. She started observing the two sides on everything. She discovered that a tremendous wreck could have a side so luxurious and beautiful but is only available to those who wanted to look beyond. She learned what patience really meant. She became an expert in dancing. She started to dance to everything that made her happy. Since everything was in the form of justice, equality, and happiness up here, that was probably the things the watcher instinctively portrayed to her. Because of that, she started noticing one thing she hadn’t seen in a long time. Sincerity. It was always there. There on his face, in his touch and in his words. It shone so bright every time she was with him, that she couldn’t help her curiosity. She wanted more of him. She knew there was something more about him she did not know. She knew he wasn’t the kind to lie, or to hide anything from her, but she felt like there was something she was meant to discover herself.

Little did she know, that curiosity she went through, was the human’s definition of love. Love was curiosity followed by care and the need of giving and receiving comfort. She fell right through without realizing it at first. The watcher couldn’t have known better. But as all the gold he is, he’s never been through the experience. He hadn’t anticipate the danger of coming into their world. He was in confusion. He was either too focused on his mission or… probably got carried away.

The human ways started to affect him. He too, was learning why some worldly things became very enjoyable to the people. He started being curious himself. Her curiosity was contagious, and he sunk into it more every day. Quicksand. He was having fun. She felt less protected but it was fine as long as he was there. All he needed to be was there. But the more he looked like he was learning new things that should be fundamentals, she started assuming that he was not one of her kind. He was something else. Absolutely too good to be alive anywhere around her. He was humanly stupid. But she liked that in some way. Perhaps she liked how he was so different, yet so understanding and so giving, both in terms of compassion and knowledge. She then realized it wasn’t love that took over at the first place. She then realized he was just someone that needed to be there for her, to wake her and shake things off for her to continue a life with true meaning. And she just had to be the one to find him. Out of anybody she could meet, she just had to lock her eyes with his once upon a day. They were brought together for something. But did the other Watcher planned for this to happen? How in the end, he made her very needy of him? How in the end, he had to fall off track and got a taste of her ways of doing? How in the end, they had fallen for the pleasure of friction?

But when they were busy figuring things out for themselves, it was time. The span of duty was on its verge and they let things slip without warning. They were too busy in confusion, that they forgot every living thing is based upon time. Time start things, ruin things, heal things, and of course, stop things.. even their story. Though she came out of the regimen bold, strong, wiser and more resourceful, she wasn’t prepared for a goodbye. Neither of them were.

Their eyes met for the last time, but right then, she looked away. He kept staring as if trying to suck up memories from her to keep for himself as he never had such experiences. This time, it was fierce and wasn’t quite friendly. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were cold and glazy. His stare was sharp, as if he was shooting arrows her way. But as for her, it was good that her eyes remained far from his way, for then she could be beat by those blades.

+++

He didn’t come for no reason. She didn’t want to take all the things he gave to her for granted. So, she started to do as practiced. She let her heart grow big and forgave. She looked beyond the unfavorable matters and tried to smile. She was like the moon who began to appreciate the presence of the sun and the stars. She was like a child who was eager to touch everything around her. It became her delight to express feelings and ideas. She kept a little piece of grief, but she didn’t let it get in her way. She smiled as she looks at the luxurious side of memories and became grateful.

The March

5/14/2015 06:22:00 PM

The March

Experience Ideation Love

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Once, there was warmth.

I enter the room, everything white. The room is two stories high. A skylight lit up the room. Brisk blue is above you. Four walls painted in lily-white encloses. Photographs rest on their surface. Four walls have them in black frames. Plain and simple, no need of embossment. Its aim is to draw focus on the image it contains.

One side of the room holds images in black and white. They captured portraits of laughter and scenes as if the presence of the camera was unnoticed. Another side holds colorful pictures of landscapes; places gone, places admired and places that compose stories. Destinations. Some, were home. Greens and blues. Splats of red and some yellow spots. White cotton balls and all colors in neon on a black page. It all reminds you of all the things you could do, you can do. And things you probably would do again. Next to that wall, there's this wall. The plane I stand twenty-five inches from after entering. This barrier lets me in through a walnut door. A wall lantern sticks out on each of its side. Unlit. Turning my sight to my left, I see the wall scattered with polaroid pictures. The prints presents soul. Eyes, mouth, and hands. You could tell how they were moving without real motion. You could hear sounds of conversations and tunes without a catch of vibration. You even see moving scenes in your head. How lively it was, you feel too.

I've been to this room quite a few times. Whenever I decide to come, I just come. It's always there. Always ready to let me in. Anytime. Just like any other time, there's a long wooden table in front of me. Twenty-eight feet to be round. Familiar faces sit on a massive old dead trunk that lies on the floor, on each long side of the table. They all turn their heads my way, with the warmest smiles on. It's as if I was the one they've been waiting for, disregarding my unpunctuality. I scooted myself in between two fellows, not taking the spot at the end of the trunk bench.

We go through stories, we let out laughter every now and then. I am mostly glad we have the room to ourselves, for we are frolicking in expression uncontrollably. It is like a bash, without the sound of guitar and drums, and movements that follow along with their beat. No real music, no real dancing. Our dance is the gesture of our hands from elaborating, the music is the laughter itself. But all of it could get you sick and drunk if you lose focus and begin to think it's nonsense, unconciously dismissing yourself.

We are served joy on our plates. Some ordered comfort and a couple others ordered trust. We didn't swallow our meals whole. Some likes to share. Some would ask to taste a bite. And by the end, we are full of savories. We decide to munch on dessert. We all have jellos. Clear and transparent white. But to our surprise, each of them tastes differently. Mine tastes like chocolate swimming in hazelnut cream, with crumbs of crackers floating every here and there. Not too warm, not too cold. Just how I like it. The person on my right has jello that gives a jolt of berry flavors. Sweet once it touches your tastebuds, then stings in sourness right before you ingest it. I enjoyed the first part, but not so much after. But maybe that's how this person likes it. That's what makes this individual happy.

Our cups were filled with thick black liquid, almost like ink. I find it thrilling, gulping down a dose of refreshing liquid. Though iceless, it becomes cool once it touches your throat. Not so much of its appearance describes its taste.

Inside, I'm full of all the liquid. An amount needs to be leaked. I don't want to excuse myself right this moment. But I have to go. Dismissing my self, I exited the same door I went in through, expecting to come back with someone who misses my story, waiting for the sequel to be told.