Rehydrated

The first sign of summer in the Philippines: rain. You'll know that summer is here when the rain showers over your head when you least expect it. Or better yet, when you most need it. It ceases when you've had enough water for tilling the soil.

I'm fine now. Just a little haggard from lack of sleep, but a lot better.

To you, who always listens and pushes the quiet button to inject sense:

THANKS. YOU ARE MY GEM.

To you, who offered to punch her/him -- except that her, happens to be me:

MIL GRACIAS.

To you, who said I should wear a bikini for summer and thinks I'm sexy (iiiwww!) with it on:
MIL GRACIAS.

To you, who encouraged me to get back to my joy:

THANKS. I FELT YOUR HUGS FROM AFAR.

To You, who brings down the rain at the right time, always:
SALAMAT PO.

I am mine.

Sometimes I think I don't know myself anymore. Lately, I've been having stressful times at making decisions among things that in my heart I want to do versus the conventions put forth by circumstances. I knew I'm done and over with fickle-mindedness, but how come I feel half-convinced, half-regretful after putting my foot down every time? Somehow, there's this bitter aftertaste and I couldn't get over with it. It bites and I know that if don't take action, it will devour my entire being down to my last toenail.

Maybe what's killing me more is that judgmental look piercing through me whenever I say "No." and everyone else says "Yes." It would backfire to me, just as casual as one would normally walk in the room by the main door. It gives me the impression that I'm missing out on a lot, when in truth, it's not really a matter of life and death. It sears too much, it jerks me off into compromising. It just sucks.

I'm seeing the consequences of my uncertainties. I've become more and more insecure and it's robbing me of my joy.

I need to get my joy back. It's mine to share.

Throw off the throttles

A classic piece of advice such as the "letting (it) go theory" was once again reincarnated to me by last night's episode of Aircrash Investigation (a National Geographic special). It was about an elite Russian pilot who treats his 15 year old son to a surprise cockpit trip that eventually throttled into the airline's doom (read an account of the events here). The investigation revealed that aircraft error was not the principal cause of the crash (thus, saving Airbus' fate). It merely posed as an effect of the pilots' scarce proficiency of the A310. The immediate reflex was to take control of the plane and save all 75 lives from this fatal demise. However, that bold intention was not able to fulfill its noble purpose.

The solution was very simple. The pilots just have to let go of the maneuver and let the autopilot do the noble purpose for which it was built for.

Now that has a very huge point. How difficult could an easy gesture really be?

Indeed, it is our basic instinct to take on our best controls in order to save ourselves from life's catastrophes. And then just when everything has taken its toll, we wouldn't let go; for fear that if we do, that would be the end of it all.

Letting go is not equal to defeat. Letting go is holding on to what is divine. Letting go is a leap of faith.

That grand design called serendipity

What happens when the south pole cross paths with the north? Will they ever?
Who whispered proximity to time?
How come five years seem equal to zero?

We sometimes miss it even when it hits us between the eyes. Why?

Things fall into place like ice cream scoops is to sugar cones. One is called from the other end of the galaxy in order to traverse an orbit parallel to the other. It's a riddle sometimes difficult to entangle, but in the end, still you can.

Why?

It just happens. Come away and let us navigate together.