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.

small spaces

happy birthday dear friend.
maybe you thought i forgot.
or didn't care.
i didn't.
i do.

34

in a few days, i will be 34.
it seems like one of those moments (or series of moments) that begs the retrospective.

part of me longs to do this.
part of me thinks it will be too painful.
part of me thinks it will take up too much time and energy.
(what is too much? it's more than i am willing to expend at the moment.)

my friend Leny said to me a couple of months ago, "my gosh, Karen, your life is so wide open."
yes, it is.
and, at times, i am perfectly fine with this.
then there are those moments that i am so anxious over this.
it's like i find myself in the old tape loop saying:
you can't do that.
you shouldn't do that.
what are you going to do for money?
what are you doing with your life?

i've been traveling with my mother and sister these last few weeks and have been playing the hapless tourist.
well, not quite hapless.
but, it's like i am playing a part in this strange balikbayan movie.
and it's a role that i certainly know how to play.
but i don't want to anymore.
it doesn't fit.
but i want to spend time with my mom and sister.

we've gone to many places.
and stayed in the finest resorts and hotels.
it's been quite decadent actually.
one day, we had breakfast in davao, lunch in cebu, and dinner in bacolod.
crazy.

i find myself wishing for my solitude again.
my little place waits for me in barangay san vicente, sta. rita.
there is no breakfast buffet, with people tripping over themselves to fuss over my teapot.
there are no white fluffy towels and valet turn-down service at night.
there is no air-con or l'occitane bath toiletries and products.

i wonder if Mang Bernardo is done making my kawayan furniture.
i wonder if the screens are installed in my windows.

and then i wonder how much longer will i be here?
if i had a dollar each time i got that question, i wouldn't have to worry about money.
it's a question i am not comfortable with.
or perhaps it is the answer that i am uncomfortable with.

i don't know.

i really don't.
i won't know until i know.

my sister graduates from nursing school in march.
my other sister will give birth in january.
i'll go back to the states in february for a visit.
and then back here again?

i think to myself, will i finally feel settled here in the philippines and then leave it all for the states?
the thought of living in the states is not appealing, at all, to me right now.
though, i have to admit, that the other morning as i watched CNN coverage of the time leading up to Barack Obama's acceptance speech at the DNC, i actually found myself missing the states. i was actually moved to tears thinking about how my peeps in the bay area must be abuzz with energy and excitement.

i wonder how the landscape will change when Obama becomes president.

i wonder also how i will live into this life i am creating.
i think i put great pressure on myself.
that my life is supposed to be big.

i am such a reluctant healer.
and i loathe to think of myself this way.
but, it's true.
the responsibility scares me.
what if i can't live up to it?

my reiki teacher, Aisa and i recently visited an orphanage for special children in cavite.
we stayed for two days.
the first day, we did a healing ritual for me.
the second day we shared reiki with the kids.

the Universe challenges me to rise above my own fear.
thankfully, She is patient with me, as i fumble and dig my heels.
i have been asked to settle myself, to fix my place how i want it, so that my vision can become clearer.
after my mother and sister leave, this will be done.
my heart beats a little faster and my breath quickens because i know i am systematically painting myself into the corner of Awakening.

my Ego is running for her life.
poor thing.

i'll turn 34 flying to boracay with my mother.
i think i'll just enjoy this decadence while it lasts.
Because it won't last!

helios, heel. heal.

the sunrise doesn't hurt as much as it once did.
what a relief.

a confession:
at my most petty, i had already added this to our list of mutual disappointments and resentments...

you fucked up the sunrise for me.
forever.

at my best, it's just a very slight pang, the lightest tug on my heartstrings.
a reminder that you were once close.
(not closed.)
that i let you in.
that you still exist.

and the sunrise is so beautiful.

despite everything, you have a place in this heart of mine, should you wish to claim it.
who am i kidding?
even if you choose not to claim it,
it's there.

confounding.
and annoying.
and true.

perhaps the ebbing of pain abides for understanding.
with it no longer causing me to close my eyes to bear it,
or have tears blur my vision,
or have it take up so much damn room...

i can find my generosity again.

it's around here somewhere.
buried deep underneath the anger,
just beneath the hurt.

reflections

i see myself in my mother.
i see myself in my sister.

they are here, visiting from the states.
we have been traveling all around.
bacolod.
cebu.
bohol.
davao.

mannerisms.
habits.
viewpoints.
idiosyncrasies.

i think i am equally surprised at how much we are alike as we are vastly different.
it's so much easier to see my rough spots when they are mirrored back to me.
catches me like velcro.
grr.

but also, i get all warm and gooey inside when i see where i get my best qualities, too.
catches me, though not like velcro.
it's like i am retraining my mind to take note of the positive as well.