“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God.” – Ann Frank
I was just browsing the internet this morning when I thought I smelled something like newly cut grass. Since I was in my room, I felt I may have just imagined things. It’s been a long time since I was able to freely go out. The pandemic has somewhat confined me indoors.
Whether it was just my imagination or whether the smell of grass has somewhat found its way to my room, I’m still grateful. That smell has reminded me of those times I was walking along the park with loved ones, when I was free to move and run and breathe without fear of being sick or infected with a virus. That smell has reminded me of all those wonderful times I was able to travel to faraway places, enjoying the company of friends.
It’s amazing what gifts the little things could bring us. Sometimes, we don’t need a grand solution to all our problems. Sometimes, all we need is a little break, a little happiness, and a little reminder that there are still some good things in this world we’re living in.
“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” – Ann Frank
Just this once, write with complete abandon. Write as though you don’t need to earn a living. Write, write and write. Write with all of your heart. Write with everything that you have.
Just this once, write without fear. Write as though you have the courage to face anyone who’d ever dare to criticize your work. Write with passion and conviction. Write and say everything you want to say.
Just this once, write without limits. Write from another world, a world no one may ever believe in but those who can understand where you’re coming from. Write beyond the expectation of others. Write what you may otherwise consider as insignificant or crazy or too extravagant for you.
Just this once, write in darkness. Write without knowing where your writing would be taking you. Write as you face that mysterious door into the unknown. Write with your shadows and with your doubts.
Just this once, write with light. Write with such an inspired spirit that others can’t help but find their voice with you. Write like a flame that can ignite the coldest hearts. Write and become a beacon to help others find their way.
Just this once, write with your wounds. Write even when you bleed and bleed and bleed. Write with all the thorns that have pricked your very heart. Let others know that you also suffer and that they are not alone.
Just this once, write with your bliss. Write without apologizing for your joy. Let others know that they can be healed and that they can be happy, too. Write that there is so much more they can look forward to in life.
Just this once, be true to who you really are. Write with your soul. Write with faith. Write with the unfailing power of love.
“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.” — Virginia Woolf
If I were to be asked again what it is I’d like to do, I’d answer that I still want to write. O, there are so many things I’d like to share, so many things I’d like to write about.
People usually say I’m the quiet type of person, and perhaps it’s because they don’t see me talking so much. In reality, I want to say so many things, things I couldn’t all put into words.
I can’t say them all. That’s why I write them.
I write about feelings and thoughts I wanted to process. I write about hurts that have been healed and dreams that came true. I write about the people and things I care about. I write about my most valuable beliefs.
When I write, I want to share something important with others. I want to let them feel the happiness I felt and the peace that I have found. I want my readers to know that they are not alone, and that no matter what they are going through, there is always hope for them. There is hope because there is God. A God who loves them like no other.
Time is so short to write everything I want to say. May God help me write what I must. And though I may not succeed in sharing much, may those who read my works know at least this much: that there is a meaning to their lives, that there is something good they can look forward to, and no matter how others may make them feel, their lives matter because they are so dearly dearly loved.
“If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” — Martin Luther
I once went to a place in Guimaras, a beautiful island in the Philippines. I’ve been to many places, but in that place, there was a different kind of silence…a silence you could almost hear. Perhaps it’s because of the lack of electricity in the area. Perhaps it’s the absence of internet connections. But in that place, silence is more than the absence of sound. It was a kind of silence you can feel, a silence whose presence touches you and changes you. It as that kind that I could never forget.
Here is an actual excerpt from my diary:
At Himala, Barangay Sibunag, we witnessed a spectacular sunset. (I was glad we captured it on film). I was glad I didn’t miss the silhouette of the tree set apart from the rest, somewhat bowing to the left with branches surrendering to the glaring orange sky.
Indeed, the peace of the place, especially upon arriving at Barangay Sebaste was striking. No loud stereos, no television sets?—?just the soft rusting of leaves and the sweet chirping of birds now and then.
They say that silence is not the same as peace, and I agree, but sometimes, we need a certain silence to understand again what peace was like. Silence helps us listen deeper. It opens not only our ears, but our hearts.
“We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.”? Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
It’s been a year since the pandemic forced everyone out of normalcy. Many people have been hit hard, some losing their source of income, and some losing the very ones they love. When I think about what I have left compared to others around me, I can’t help but feel I’ve been spared of difficulties I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
It doesn’t mean, however, that my heart doesn’t ache for all the things I’ve lost. I know that only God’s grace has kept me from being crippled by anxiety. It is only God’s grace that has allowed me to carry on.
My life is simple. I’m not rich enough to enjoy the luxuries of always going out of the country. I don’t socialize much either, and so I won’t be missing parties or concerts or other events that other people do. Yet in my own life, there are some things I miss.
I miss the freedom to go out of the house whenever I want to. Not that I’d get very far. But that I know I could at least visit my favorite bookstore or simply go to Church and light a candle there while I pray. I may even plan on visiting nearby friends I feel like it.
I miss being able to breathe without the fear of being sick. That simple pleasure of enjoying the cool morning air and breathing without a mask or a facial shield.
I miss going to the mall with my family. I miss going to mass with them and then eating out and strolling about, simply exploring that small space where one can see new things and meet new people. I miss shopping for good that I can touch and smell.
I miss going to the movies. There’s nothing like buying some popcorn and then going in your favorite theater to watch the latest film.
I miss going to my favorite café. That time when I need not hurry, when I can simply watch the people passing by as I enjoy my favorite coffee and desert.
I miss street foods. Being able to eat lugaw (a local congee), fish balls, barbeque and sorbetes (a local version of ice cream).
I miss being able to plan for things that I could do next, whether it be learning a new sport or hobby or getting to a new place. Not that I’m an extrovert. But there’s something within every person that longs to have that freedom to plan, to explore and to look forward to many things in life.
I miss the possibility of being able to walk in the rain again without fear of getting sick or of being the carrier of a virus that could risk the lives of my loved ones.
I don’t know how long the effects of this pandemic would be. But I don’t want to lose hope that things can still return to normal.
I know many people would discourage me, many who believe that we shouldn’t yearn for things to be the way they were again. But I think I need this hope at least to keep me hanging on, to protect my sanity, and to guard my humanity. I need to believe that things can still be better and one day, we can be free again.
