Steer the Wheel

I was always on the steering wheel. 

I maneuvered my life to however the circumstances presented itself. 

I was a driftwood. 

Thought of myself the least. 

Fell off the cliff on a g-force and free fall. 

Jerked off the reality that I could have clung on on something and fought against the current.

But honestly, I had not. 

I burst bubbles of those who were strangled and slapped the reality on high five but I never realized I was trying to find the key to my cage and not theirs. 

Unsolicited advice. 

Revolting emotions. 

And words gargling in my throat which were trying to escape because of the oppression I saw and I thought some of my friends were into. 

The cliché it takes one to know one marked the whiplash at my back. 

I was fighting because I was unhappy. 

I was living in the dimmest cell and I had been a lonely soul. 

I illuminated a blurry smile I thought was so bright it could disarm anyone. 

But.. But I was fooling myself back then. 

I was living in a dungeon. 

In a damp pit I pretended seeing a castle and secret garden. 

I could never trace the depression if my life is not on it's proper tilt now. 

I am living my world in present with all the freedom I desired to have for so long. 

Those past moments that crossed my mind and make me smile at times. 

Without failures, I will never succeed.

Without pains, I would never experience bliss.

Without heartaches, I would never find true love.

Without mediocres, I would not meet a fine man.

Without the past, I would never be here, Now. 

Indeed, I hold the steering wheel. 

I will maneuver my life to however I want it.

To wherever I want it. 

To whatever I put my heart to it.

Black Rose

When I thought everything was okey and I held the world in my hands. I wore my crown steadily and tracked a single line on a steady cat-walk. Finances were okey with the ups and downs but still I was able to manage. Sighed in the instance when something quite shaky and told myself to carry on. 

Those chapters I already flipped closed and thought of vaulting them up. Emerged from being broken and believed everything will be yes! Yes! Yes! Okey! 

I maneuvered my life alone even when I was with someone who I accepted even he was quite a burlap to carry on my back. I just thought marriage was the norm. The fate. Even love was a choice.

Or so I thought I chose to when I wasn't given options at all. 

Then I set myself free. Flew the mountains echoing the cry of my overjoyed heart. I paid up high stake for this freedom. I faced the wrath of those who battled the depression of doctrines and beliefs. I gambled too many but after calling it all in, I took all the stakes. I won! Despite all the rumors and the neverending assumptions, I am living the life I want. 

I just live as an ordinary. The roller coaster ride and the howling when pain stroke. The laughter bouncing the walls of empty room. The feel of the cold grounds to my barefoot sipped to my veins. And then there was a sudden knock to my locked-rustic heart who believes in fairy tales.

 

And then my world run in circles. Lulled by a comforting hum. Sway in a safe hammock of romance. Serenaded by words in unison with the whistle of crossing winds and the birds chirps completing the orchestra.

My days were spent in laughters and giggles. I am all those princesses and I have the happily ever after crafted on a branch of an old tree until the whiplash. The urgency to evacuate. To just be in haste. 

And the world's serenity was destroyed. The puzzle pieces were dismantled. And the confusion dawned. Where am I now? Crossroad. And I stopped. 

And I just want to pull back.

To go back to my safe ground.

To hide.

To live like a kermit.

To just be.

To create my own forever of ok.

My definition.

My perspective.

My world.

My own.

So shall I just say goodbye?

LIFE AND CHOICES

Life will never offer solution to the problem you put yourself into but surely it will provide circumstances that will assist you thread the path of your choice. You see bottomline of everything is a choice. Choices if you will put it. Diversified options laid infront of you. You pick the most comfortable with you because any discomfort will distort the equilibrium you have been so carefully dealt with all your life.  You felt you were so complete and yet you continued tracking those men or things you thought could make you whole. Worse, could make you happy. Worst, once they had left, you were on the floor, torn, shattered and writhing in pain. And after a week or a month, you cling on somebody's arm again. With that smile for posterity and an oozing happiness swelling from your blinding bright smiles.  

Wrongly, you associate happiness as connected to someone. Your need to belong fuels you to have a relationship, even one full of mediocrity. As long as you have someone you labeled as your own. Someone with key hole or someone with a coin slot. You played manipulation and once the brain of your partner started to run freely, you thought of malfunction. Then you junk him/her. But where does that leave you, broken. Regardless your position is, you're the one who left or you are the one being left behind, the effect is the same. There will be that gaping hole. That void. That longing to belong again. 

So you think you are so full of confidence that you can just have anyone in a snap of a finger? How could you find someone geniune if you tend to compromise your own ideals. 

You deserve all the beautiful things in the world including one beautiful mind that will look at you as someone so precious. Not a second rate. Not an option. 

Life offers you so much to gnaw on. To juggle. To simply point at those things which meet your needs. Not so-so. Not something you just shrug off if it doesn't fit. 

Slow down. Breathe. And look at your inner being. What do you really want? Where are you heading? What is it that makes you whole? Look within and find that inner peace. That flower of enlightenment blossoming from deep down inside you. Live consciously and in presence. Now. The most important part. Refrain from looking at the slit of yesterday or steal the light from tomorrow. Enjoy the now. Like there is no room for doubt but once the emotions fleet in, let it. With it's fluidity, it will just flow. Acknowledge but never hold the moment because everything passes through. 

And then walk the path of light. Like seeing for the first time what you are really composed of. 

Nothing can make you unhappy without your consent. Everyone and everything are mere add ons to your complete life. Don't hold too tight but be always grateful of what you have. 

Being you requires so much sacrifices and you might need to grip onto something or cry the frustrations. But yeah, you are just human but once the circumstances pull you back to misery, always go back to who you are. 

Life you think is never easy, but, it is. 

Your choices make it complicated. 

I AM

I have so many questions while tracking my route to where I am now.

I grew up with so much nuances inside my head which as I perceived it now it seems like voices in my mind. Skeptical. Rational. Logical. Critical. I even researched on multiple personality before and schitzoprenia. 

I always tell people from the writings I previously published that yes I wasn't born normal.

I can back track those inquiries I had growing up. 

I was a walking weird lame shy individual.

With all those experiences and soul damaging decisions I made, they were not coincidence, they were mere act of nature to lead me to where I am now. 

I even thought of having a psychiatrist explain to me everything but I ended up learning the process of awareness. Opening myself up to some unexplainable occurences and I met people who mentored and explained that what I was going through was not for everybody. 

Not everybody is open just yet for this kind of journey. Everybody is prepared for this, I guess but the transformation depends on how they accept this. 

I believe in soul. Everyone has soul. 

I believe in the law of attraction.

I believe in oneness. As individual one with the universe.

I watched the secret and it explained everything.

I believe that there is no coincidence but we are orchestrated to diverse, to meet, to cross each others' path. 

I believe that ego is not part of who we are.

I believe in the higher self. 

That there is a thinker inside of us. 

That our inner self is like the whole of the universe that's why we are part of the whole system.

I believe in frequency.

I believe in the power of now.

I believe that we can heal ourselves if only we know how to use that healing power we possess.

I believe in walking barefoot on the grass and that's where we reconnect to nature. 

I believe that we create our own peace.

I believe in kindness.

I believe that above all, love is the most powerful.

I thought I was an irregular individual with an overworking mind. Then I met people who speak the same. Who believed at some point they understand what I was saying.

I was a victim of ridicule. Gossip. Though I also enjoyed sharing with gossipmongers. I was bullied. I was intimidated. I was maligned. I was debased. And those I thought was who I also am. Was. And again was.

I ended my realtionship with my 10 year marriage. I entertained people who I thought were my equal. I accepted the treatment. Abused. Betrayal. Then I turned my back from people who I looked up. They even casted their stones at me in judgment. They were clean and immaculate and entitled to throw spites. 

I tracked my route.

Alone.

I learned to meditate.

To feel the silence.

I started looking after myself. 

I shed off excess body weight which one of those reasons that weighed me down. It wouldn't be called excess for no reason. 

I became a vegan straight for one year. I ate meat but only chicken and fish. Those who can't let go of their lifestyle couldn't take my way of life. They called me insecure. Obsessed with getting slim. It seared the pride I had but they didn't know the whole story why. 

I tamed the ego.

It didn't matter if it's on the floor lying still with so much blood as long as I know, it's not part of who I am. 

Ego feed on us giving us notion and belief it's who we are. 

Ego is not us. It is our false self. 

I reached my desired body weight. Underweight then and a friend told me to build my muscle. I did. I ate red meat and other protein sources yet I only could take some. My stomach already sunk and acknowledged food in minimum. 

Meditation was a struggle yet I had to do it everyday.

Breathing exercise is also a form of meditation.

I continued to walk the path laid down before me. I then tried fitting in the group of people who I pinpointed with strong personalities because I too thought I would fit in. Ego again.

Until another betrayal. 

Another gavel stroke.

Another judgment.

People didn't hear my story but they casted their stones again. 

They were those laundry dried. Cleared conscience. Strong opinionated individuals. Judges. 

And another era in my life where I learned to love myself even more. Enjoying the silence. The no need to please everyone. The honest talks with myself. 

I kept mum about my own narration. I guess I do not have to explain myself to those who would never understand. 

At first, it was so weird to walk alone. Again. But the crown didn't fall off my head. I have it, in peace, in whole piece. 

Above all probably, what I am most grateful for is going to bed and rising up with peace of mind. I can look at my reflection in the mirror and I can give the most genuine smile to a person I am. 

Karma had spoken to me. I had my share. My previous words and actions ricocheted. I suffered. I accepted. I moved on.

I am living now minding my own business. If I don't have better words to say, I will shut up. No need for defenses. 

I don't have to force my worth to anybody because for those who are true to me, explanation is not needed. 

I am working on my judgments. My thoughts are easily pricked and I can strike the scythe easily.  I'm working on it. I will be there next. 

I was built on a shaky ground. I was given enough choices and those options I picked, despite not the supposed alternative but it was on my palms nonetheless. I was cut to traverse that peak for me to slide down the valley to where peace resides.

I didn't regret failed relationship, they made me whole. They gave me enough visions of what really love is. 

In friendships, I have a few. Those souls who knew the pain I went through, the choices I made and the pit where I fell but they were there. Handed down the rope of support. Pulling me up some more. Laughed at my mistakes yet patted my back and supported me all the way. 

True friends are so rare and you will only recognize them if you believe in soul. You feel them through vibrations not tangible stature or wealth or display of authority.

True love, I understand now.

There is no shortcut. No direction. It will cross my path once it needs to be.

I was weird.

I am weird.

And I will always be. 

Because that's who I am. 

Vision

It's not always easy to be the person who is last to know. 

To play deaf and blind even if you know what's really happening but you have that ability to just let it go but then you appeared naive to some and even thought of, as stupid or worst coward.

If it's cowardice to let go of all those childish retorts from other people. Those who heard something and misquoted you and there was no clarification that followed but judgment and malicious partakes instead. Like you feel the stolen glances from people. The unspoken agreement and judgments. 

You feel the intensity. You feel maligned. You have the urge to rebutt. To defend yourself. Your mind is telling you stories of what have beens and assumptions of what went wrong but then, you keep your mouth shut. 

This is no difference to a 16 year of friendship you turned your back from. This is only few months of pleasing a person who played the role of Mufasa, the king. The green monster was awakened again and the story rolled in redundancy and you were disturbed. Few minutes. Few days. But the peace never left you and you were still gifted with lullabys even if the outer sphere is chaotic. 

You know the core of this drama. But then the monster has ate up so much that it caused havoc and it continues to crawl to skin of weaker founded walls. Waved. Wobbled. Cracked. Damaged. Sad, wreaked.

It seems it has never reached a wise man's ears or someone who could stood up for you and stop the damages the foul mouth is causing. 

Somebody had spilled the beans and wrongly spelled the bean. And as long as there are ears who love gossip and sing praises to idols, this will continue to erode and flaw the tranquility of small minds.

This is not the first of this case. Before you were denounced, you walked on the alley of beauty queens, you also unknowingly given the diadem of naif and you fought like a soldier for Mufasa, remember?

During a war with creepers you were a loyal soldier who carried the scepter of the king and sniffed his fart all the way until you were lashed by the same scepter you once enjoyed the weight. 

In this world, do not assume of loyalty. 

Everybody uses everybody. 

Until you finally recognize what ego is. 

For now, deal with the chaos.

Deal with the gossip.

Deal with peabrains. 

Next time, vulture will take over and the table will turn, to Mufasa's reality. 

To Mufasa's awakening.

To Mufasa's gag. 

To Mufasa's healing. 

Namaste! 

The Road to Take

I have written it once, twice, I'm not so sure but yeah what I am sure of is rehashing my childhood. Where this writing prowess came from.

I was a storyteller. Probably because I was a dreamer. 

I remember a friend told me when we were in Barcelona, Spain, why most of the artists came from Europe like the great Gaudi. The whole of Barcelona speaks of his works. Masterpieces. Probably, a simple caricature which led him to create the whole mural. Take also into consideration those musicians who happened to be so talented they shared their gifts to the whole world. I believe if they tried bottling those innate ability, they will be strangled or choked. They were called to perform. To be positive vibes to the world. They are geniuses. They had restless mind despite boredom and confinement.

I came from a small town. Books were luxury. Reading was a hobby not everybody chose to enjoy. 

I was inquisitive by nature. When I was 5, I was curious to discern how any conversation started? I would usually tail my mother everytime she would go to her duty at the Health Center or went with her when she met someone or randomly approached somebody. I did ask the question to some, aunt, uncle, sister but got a crazy look like telling me: Duh! 

I didn't know how research works. Wasn't even aware that inquisition was already part of it. And then I found the answer. 

It all started with a question. 

Yes! 

It was and it is still.

I was happy to note and got that stored in my subconscious. 

Humbly, we had improvised play house. Pulling out blankets and towels from the closet, hiding from our parents' scrutiny and at the narrow passage between our house and uncle's, we run a show. Storytelling with my one and only audience, a 4 year old cousin. 

And the love for books came in. I didn't have money to buy books. I borrowed and read aloud. I was 7. I thought I was good. I could read books but got a weird look. Like, it was already expected. I was sent to school and I should learn. I was not special.

I traced the line of knowledge. I wanted to explore some more but I didn't have references. Until such time I have no way but to excel and I also thought that was natural. That was me. That was all. 

From Kindergarten I was delivering what was expected of me but awards didn't show any recognition. Then came the grade school parade. There were a lot of us who reasoned out. Who displayed wit and candor. I rode the competition. I tried to excel but a lot of them were knowledgeable beyond the capacity of my stored intelligence. They had books perhaps. They had support from home. They were pushed to do their best. 

Despite stiff competition and favoritism, I excelled. From almost 500 students, I belong to the top 20 in my batch. That was something but yeah, that was something. 

Esteem blossomed from home. Confidence is home made. Should be. But I guess, the mere fact that my parents believed in education was one thing that fuelled me to pay them back. In any way I could. 

I started writing when I was 12. After all those stories I had rolled down in compelling fictitious accounts then I played with words. 

I continued reading. Wrote down those words I couldn't decipher. Merriam Webster was my best buddy. And no ambiguous words could hide their true colors then. 

Then I wrote again and again. I had taglish dictionary. I orchestrated words. Put them into phrases then sentences until words created paragraphs. So on and on. 

I had several stories written every summer. The grammars were in circus and yet I was able to pull and finish the whole of it.  Few of my classmates knew of it. But most often than not 'twas hidden. 

I was afraid of ridicule. Of pointing out those mistakes. Of rejection. 

I had classmates who really were wordsmith. Or so I believed they were. They played with words expertly, and yes I looked down at myself and that was so apparent when I entered a big university for college.

Most of them wanted to excel. Flaunted their expertise. Laughed at some grammar error. It was a rat race. Everybody wanted to be distinguished superior from everybody. 

And then, I shrunk. I didn't see the point of showcasing that talent I thought was already honed. 

It wasn't.

The skill was raw.  I knew from my heart it had to be enhanced. I was in school for learning not for competition but what it seemed and what I had put myself into, I struggled and I failed to prove to myself I was a winner. Confidence faltered. My self-esteem wobbled and I channeled my mind through other things, idle and immature. 

I played with words. I had my own idioms. I earned laughs from the display of it. I thought I was irregular. Not cut to perform the tapestry of words. I was afraid to scribbled notes to people's gawking. I thought people would mind. I never realized those criticisms were mere insults, discouragements and rejections. I stopped. I made that talent a history. 

I saw some people's notes. Words. High-fallutin words. I was so impressed, I buried my ambition some more. Deep down. 

I focused to reading. 

I was so choosy and ambitious. 

I tried reading literary works. Pulitzer winners. 

I read papers, big publications to tabloid. 

I wanted to enhance my vocabulary. 

I collected thesaurus dictionary. 

I wrote again. 

Again.

Again.

Until somebody took notice. 

Yet, My works did not escape aggressive retorts and destructive criticisms. There was even someone who thought those were not my works. That they were just my ideas but somebody edited or worse did the work for me. 

Did it discourage me again? No! 

I learned that people would never accept the fact that I was advancing. That I was sharpening my saw. That I was better from the good start I had. 

I wote some more. The cliché practice makes perfect will never be put into words if there was no basis. And yes! Practice leads to perfection. I'm heading to that effect. 

Those idioms I once had. Those words I thought were full of absurdity were in their full usefulness now. 

I weaved everything to create a vivid effect.

From those bitter sweet experiences, I honed my skills notch higher everyday. 

Presently, I see the ambition in my 12-year old offspring. She writes and writes and showcases that prowess to excel in her craft. 

For her there is no competition, only her and her raw skills. 

Everybody can write but only a few can be wordsmiths. 

I want to be one. 

If not, I want to give all resources to create one in the persona of my daughter. 

My protégé.

Ambitious?

Yes! 

No one can ever cast death to that desire. 

I will be the buttress of her ambition. 

A bullet proof for assassination.

I guess with all the necessary support and constructive criticisms, she will go places and beyond boundaries.

She's 12, the age where this all started. 

An epoch to an ordinary existence. 

WASABI

Nakikita mo ba ang salamin? Kahit one way mirror yan nandun ka pa rin. Ang mga nasasabi mo patungkol sa ibang tao ay kung ano ka. Kung ano ang tingin mo ay dapat na ginagawa mo o ang gusto mo na hindi mo magawa at nakita mo sa ibang tao. Insekyuridad tawag dun. Berdeng lason. Kamandag. Ahas na lilingkis sa kaugat-ugatan mo kung hindi ka marunong imaniubra sa utak mo at ilabas na waring ihi o isinga mo nalang. 

Karamihan sa atin ay mahilig manghusga, magsalita ng masama sa kapwa o kaya gumawa ng kwento para makakuha ng simpatya o kaukulang atensyon. Marami naman ang madaling mahila at madala na kalaunan ay nagsasalita na rin ng iisang lengguwahe o sumasayaw sa tugtuging pinaandar ng may kati sa dila. Nakakasira ito ng sociudad. Ng samahan. Ng pamilya. Ng pagiging magkakaibigan. 

Tsismis. Isang dialektong gamit na gamit simula palang ng panahon ni Abraham na kalaunan sa panahon ng Apple at Android ay nanatiling paborito ng mga taong walang kakayahang gumawa ng spaceship. Hindi lang ito nangyayari sa bukid kung saan magkakasunod-sunod sa hagdang nagsisiksik sa ulo ng nasa ibaba, nakaipit sa kanilang mga hita at naghahanap ng kuto at lisa. 

Hindi lang sa pila ng mga balde at mag-igib ng tubig. 

Hindi lang sa eskwelahan ng mga nakaabang sa uwian ng mga bata. 

Hindi lang sa palengke, sa mga naghihintay ng pumakyaw ng paninda. 

Nangyayari ito sa lungsod.

Sa mga nakasuot ng mataas na takong, maayos na damit at naka-nameplate. 

Oo tama ka, ang tsismis ay nasa ating mga kwelyo. Hangga't hindi mo mapapansin ay mananatiling nakadikit sa iyo. Mantsa. Tag. Stigma. 

Karaniwan sa madalas, ito ay sakit na hindi natin alam na dumapo sa atin. At kung hindi mo mapapansin kaagad magiging lason ito na unti-unting papatay ng buong syudad. Oo! Hindi lang brownout, blackout ito! Malawakan! Parang ang pagkalusaw lang ng Atlantis at pagkatanggal sa mapa na hindi na rin inabutan ni Google Map.  

Unang sintomas, insekyuridad. Ito ang nagiging umpisa ng lahat. Makati. Mamumula. At kelangang ilabas ng dila. Nakakaalarma sapagkat nakakahawa. Waring airborne, droplets lang. Kapag malakas ang dating, hindi ito kakayanin ng may sintomas kagyat kanya itong sisiraan simula ulo hanggang paa. 

Lason. 

Sa katotohanan, kapag ikaw ang medyo nagbabalanse palang ng iyong tiwala sa sarili at marahil hindi pa solido, hindi mo kakayanin ang mga malalakas ang dating. Karaniwan, hihintayin mo silang tumalikod at ikaw ay unti-unting lalapit, hawak ang bread knife na may kalawang sa dulo at ibabaon mo ito sa likod ng walang kamalay-malay na tao. Nakakalungkot. Tetanus!

Pangalawa, panliliit. 

Pangatlo, panginginig.

Pang-apat, mag-uumpisa ang pamemerde ng iyong balat. 

Panglima, magiging berde na rin ang iyong mata, tutubuan ka ng apat na karagdagang paa. 

Green monster. Iyon ang tawag sa ingles. 

Ito ang salot sa lipunan. Kung hahayaan mo itong mamuhay sa iyo, ang tawag dito ay ego. Kilala mo sya di ba? Kilang-kilala.

Lahat ng kwestyon, irap at tawa ng ibang tao aakalain mong ikaw yun at ang pinakapanlaban mo ay tsismis. Hindi mo kayang makipagsabayan sa usaping spaceship, chemistry at mathematics, pag-uusapan mo ay tao. 

Naisip mo bang pabuksan ang ulo mo? Pumasok ba sa isip mo kung gaano kalaki ang utak mo? O ang ganoong pag-iisip hindi rin kakayanin ng kukote mo? 

Kung ang we must, we must, we must increase our bust ay para pampalaki ng dibdib, try mo kayang humarap sa salamin at tingnan mo ang buong mundo, kabilang ka dun! 

Lahat ng lumalabas sa bibig mo patungkol sa ibang tao, ikaw yun! 

Lahat ng ayaw mo sa isang tao, hindi sila yun, ikaw yun! 

Kumuha ka ng straw, yung kulay pula kasi valentine's na, ang isang dulo ilagay mo sa ilong mo habang ang isang dulo sa bibig mo. 

Ihip ka. 

Baka mapalaki mo pa utak mo. 

May chance pa habang hindi pa nagugunaw ang mundo.