lost horizon

pg. 152
lost horizon
by james hilton

"For years, passions had been like a nerve that the world jarred on:
now at last the aching was soothed, and he could yield himself to love that was
neither a torment nor a bore."

i ask you,
does this really exist?

i realize that in matters concerning love, i tend, like any good hopeless romantic pinay worth her salt, to the tumultuous.
if it isn't torment, isn't it a bore?

i recall a gchat with my friend venus early last year.
i spilled my guts about a particularly tortuous torment.
and venus wrote,
"well, u deserve someone who can receive u as u r..... i don't feel relationships have to be so difficult, ya know."
(her words still startle me with their simplicity and Truth.)

someone who can receive me like i am?
i don't even do that with myself.
(well, not completely, anyway.)
learning, learning.

i also realize as i reflect on my past torments (hee), i am learning.
and getting closer to receiving me like i am.
and getting better at receiving others like they are.

i have to admit though:
i am afraid of hurting others...again.
i am afraid of getting hurt...again.

i've been doing a lot of thinking about this, and here's the thing:
it is practically a guarantee that we, as human creatures in authentic relationship, will hurt each other.

we do this.
it is what we do.

it is the ways in which we do this and also how we make amends for our misgivings that speak volumes about our character.
how do we move through conflict?
how do we draw compassionate boundaries?
how do we honor our commitments? to ourselves? to one another?
how do we bear discomfort in placing honesty above complacency?
how do we forgive?

so, the point is, not to be afraid of getting hurt, or causing hurt.
the point is to take good care that we are not reckless with our own hearts nor allow others to be reckless with them either.
the point is to take good care that we are not reckless with others' hearts as well.

how does one do this?
and as i pose the question, i realize that what i really mean is, "how do i do this without anyone getting hurt?"
(for me, it keeps going back to that hurt thing.)

me, i know i can withstand the hurt.
(as long as i can have a bit of solitude, a soft place to cry, nature close by, something to write on, sappy love songs to commune with, and peanut m&m's.)

but, i don't want to hurt anyone.
i really don't want to hurt anyone.
is it understood that as we enter any sort of relationship, particularly romantically inclined ones, that we assume the risk of getting hurt as part and parcel of the experience?
maybe this is the difference between mature and immature love.
or the difference between mature and immature me?

i wish (kind of) that there was some sort of trial edition or test drive option,
some kind of virtual reality try out when we meet someone new.
i feel silly even writing this.
because i don't want it, really, because it isn't real life.
and it just gives me a way to wiggle out of taking responsibility for my actions.
a virtual world has no blood, no guts.
theoretical inferences have nothing on real live experience.

still...

i'm reminded of this quote i saw written on the wall outside a store that sells fancy kitchen gadgets in makati.
it read,
"Cooking is like love--it should be entered into with abandon or not at all."

abandon, caution
torment, bore

i'm almost inclined to just sit on my hands and feign indifference.
almost.
i've never been very good at sitting on my hands.
and feigning indifference...well, those days are behind me, if ever they were in front of me.

no, i see that i will have to wade into the deep end for this.
i'm already waist high, pretending that i'm chest high.
maybe i should just get out and jump all the way in.
at least it's honest.

rip

i have the equivalent of a lump in my throat in my fingertips.
there is much to say, and as my friend, erica, wrote recently,
"it seems the things that I want to tend to exceed my capacity to do so..."

ain't that the truth.

my mother left this afternoon.
we parted ways in the driveway of the shangri-la makati.
mang domeng, her favorite driver, took her to the airport.
me, i cried all the way to marikina in a hotel taxi.
it was an odd place to say goodbye.
and it had a certain ripping off the band-aid feel to it.
aray ko.

this time spent with her was so precious.
and i sense it goes even deeper than i can understand in this moment.
(hence, the lump in my throat, in my fingertips.)

it's like i want to say these things.
and the ideas burst forth in my head like rapid-fire, old-fashioned camera flashes, complete with soundtrack.
i remember a moment, or series of moments.
then i wonder, how do i write that feeling?
that memory?

there was this moment when we were swimming in the ocean at boracay.
these fish were circling us.
we got uneasy in the same way, even though they were wittle, ittle.
and we laughed later when we realized how scared we both were and how we tried to pretend that we weren’t.

there was this moment when we were swimming, and she didn't want me to leave her 2 foot radius.
i know this space…
just like when i was little.

it was actually revolutionary that she was swimming at all.
she does not like to be around water.
as a child, she almost floated away and drowned when flash floods hit their village.
at it was high tide pa when we were swimming.

i was snorkeling near her (2 feet away actually), keeping an eye on those imaginary barracuda, and after maybe 2 minutes she poked me urgently in the middle of my back.
"just checking if you are still alive, neng. you weren't moving."
i tell you.
precious.

our room number at the boracay regency was 342.
i loved this.
i turned 34 the day we checked in.
and it was just the 2 of us.
and for some unknown reason, we were upgraded to a garden suite overlooking the pool.
and that’s how we found ourselves in room 342.
(thanks Universe.)

my mother talks to herself, especially in the shower.
and she cannot seem to sit still for 2 minutes together.

she seemed to genuinely enjoy touching me when i asked her to put lotion or vco on my back. i don’t remember allowing her to touch me in that way for years and years. when she did it, i felt her remembering when she used to do that for me when i was a baby...
when i didn’t tighten up or freeze.

and when we were swimming together and i was floating weightless so close to her in the ocean, i thought, i’m in another womb with my mother.

oh, sure, we had our awkward moments.
but, the harshness is no longer there.
the sting hardly stung.
methinks, we’ve moved to a quieter part of the maze.
i’ll write about those awkward moments, too.
just not now.

now, i want to really celebrate seeing my mother, maybe for the first time in my life, as a fellow human creature, as a fellow sojourner.
she is one of the most generous people i know.
i am just beginning to understand this.

so, this lump in my throat in my fingertips is threatening to dissolve.
it melts with forgiveness
and humility
and understanding.

who did i see before?
i'm pulling down the veils that hinder my clarity.
it’s an interesting feeling…
equal parts devastating heartbreak and boundless joy.
freedom here.

ito ba ang totoong kalayaan?
baka.

take it away

i remember this graphic that i ran across some years ago, on craigslist, i think.
it was of this little sad looking creature-monster, holding his heart, away from his body, in his extended hand.
there is a gaping hole in his chest where it was.
the caption read, "take it away."

i wish i could find that graphic.
i would set it as my desktop.
maybe it's on my external hard drive.
in that one black bag,
on the floor,
in the corner,
in the main room,
in my apartment,
in santa rita.

i hope i find it again.
it's how i feel.

maybe seeing it again, will help me move through this.
i'm just so fucking angry.

it's unnerving actually.
so this is what it feels like, this kind of brokenhearted.
haven't had this flavor before.
packs quite a wallop.
had no idea.
so, this must be how bitter is born.

i try to forget you.
and i can't.
when i see a beautiful space.
or eat some really good food.
you're there.
nakakainis.

it won't always hurt this much...
will it?

i mean, i know it won't.
it won't, Muki.
it just really, really, really does right now.