"That blank space on your map, that's where i was born."
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[barbara jane reyes] ..does the fact that we are born of a history that screams darkness, confusion, latent strength destine us to a journey of the same?..
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so i'm taking a chance .. in posting real feelings and struggles i hope to gain support, prayers, thoughts .. you know all that stuff friends are supposed to do... haha .. i dont know how to say it without being cynical..but those of you who really know me know i have trust issues .. but anyway..
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i watched marsha's dad's movie "the gift of barong" on tuesday .. and it was really good. it was kinda slow in the beginning but once they travelled to the philippines it picked up..aesthetically and emotionally. as the camera spanned across the palenkes, jeepneys, beaches, beauty, struggle, smiles, homes i literally had to hold myself in memory and pain. i miss the philippines. so much.
i miss the people. their strength overlapping each others to make one people under the S(u/o)n. their hope and care for life and each other. the language that dances sweetly on my tongue and fits perfectly with my ears. the activism that breaks all previous thoughts of activism and creates a new one just for my people. videoke. balut. the air that has the power to confuse me and envelop me in one swift motion of a scent. their faith in a God who stores their tears in His p(s)alms, redeeming them one by one minute by minute smile by smile.
i miss not caring about what i looked like. im not lying when i say i think that the tv and myspace is slowly sucking in my soul. making me want and desire for things i know don't even matter. i miss being inspired by God at every moment of my waking life. you know i never spent one quiet time alone in a room, i never really got inspired by a sermon on sunday but i was more at peace and in tune with God daily than i am now. here i have to search for it. i was reading my journal and there's a page that i wrote down all the "gifts" i received from God my last week with samariatana. one of the gifts included eating kfc. another was eating fish balls, hot dog, and popcorn. yet another was looking at pictures and singing an old school christian song with the women. because life was so simple, the extra things in life stood out more. here where i have access to everything and everyone everything seems mundane.
i thought i'd be grateful forever. i thought id conserve water for life. i want to roll myself in a malong and throw my soul back to the place that brought me so much joy. back to a place where i wasn't condemned for caring about women. to a place where i didn't have to be anybody but God's little girl.
im floating. in ambiguity. in disappointment with this life. in hopes for something to happen. every moment i continue to lose ground. every moment i float a little further from sanity. every moment i grasp for air in high altitude. this is my silent proposal for change. this is my desperate tear searching for prayer. please keep these moments safe.
peace aint that easy.
`bienOwie
p.s. ironically, my parents are going to the philippines today. i can't go because of classes. again school gets in the way of my education. (ha). please keep them in your prayers for a safe trip..especially because they're going to mindanao for the first time since the kidnapping.. thanks yall.. God bless..ingat..
1 comment:
Sometimes I wrap myself in a malong and sing Harana until I fall asleep. I use too many napkins and I leave the water running until it gets hot. Somehow our grief in all of this is the process of learning. Like you said, School gets in the way of our education. I say, School is a business, especially in this market-driven country. There is something in your observation. There is something in your longing for the Motherland. This is not emptiness. To do what you love for the people you love, you know that physical presence is not necessary. Spiritual intention / prayer / meditation is powerful. I remember sitting in a small indigenous treehouse with a sacrificed pig and chanting shamans. I remember being knee-deep in the mud of rice terraces and feeling smaller than the rice itself. You say you miss the people. You feel them. They are there. You are not "away" from them. In Imagine, one of the characters says, "The struggle is the struggle of memory against forgetting." And remember what Miguel said? He just hopes he can continue to tell their stories. Tell them, sister, tell them. A good friend once wrote that she couldn't seem to make the music loud enough to eat it. I'd say it seems loud right about now. God bless the food.
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