Stairway.

It was a holiday and in a quick yes, my guy and I went to Kamay Ni Hesus, a popular  destination among religious people in Lucban, Quezon. The trip includes climbing about 300+ steps in a hill and finally arrive at the top where the statue of Christ is erected ( don't worry you'll be using the stairs ).

I am not a religious type of person but I do go to church during Sundays, so as I watch my little steps on this adventure of climbing the hill, instead of minding the 14 stations of the cross, I thought about something else.

The stairway. The steps. The look below and the destination atop. In every ventures in life, we are faced with the challenge of the stairway, we start a little step below and continue to step on until we finally arrive at our destination. What I thought at this moment is that: Focus and enjoy the present step, instead of always minding and thinking back or ahead, don't mind the steps below because you'll always feel afraid of the height and feel the weight of each step, the tiredness; don't mind the steps atop because you'll always think of the number of steps ahead and you'll just fill yourself with imaginary worries and effort. Instead, enjoy each step and rejoice. If you want to rest, stop and this is the right moment to see where you are now: look below and gain strength from the steps you have conquered and look above and gain inspiration on the destination you aspire to arrive at. After such, go on and step again.

Death.

“Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those sense weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end," she said. "Love doesn't.”
-Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

I never remembered it all. I tried but only those silly moments came flashing back and I felt afraid. If only memories is all I could hold on to, then in a span of time, will I be left with an empty hand? Will she fully vanish from my life? I felt guilty. I felt the responsibility of nurturing our moments and I will fail.

 But love is not remembering all your time with her. Love lives within you. Her love never left, it became a part of you. A part of her becomes a part of you. In my daily life, in my way of cooking, in my way of thinking, in my way of folding the clothes, with those simple actions, I remember her, I realized that she influenced me with those actions. That way I knew that years may passed, I may not remember all of her, her face, her expressions, but I knew that within me, she shared her life. And that is how life and death is, leaving this world confidently knowing that we have done our part, we have shared our life.

Notes.

A note about trees.

I saw them. They seem okay. Seem to live like a tree. Seem to look like a tree. Then I saw the cement boxed around them and the little soil that keeps them alive.

And I felt sorry.

Like the trees grown in the city, some of us now lives a life boxed by the rules and lifestyle the world imposes on us, we became ornaments. Like the trees who could have grown more bigger and more fuller in the wild, we can also gain our full potential if we can go out and see what life really is.

A note about war.

I know, I know that a man mounted in a horse, armed with steels can only be seen now in movies but is war only defined by these things? Removing these armed warriors or canon in the equation, I know that in our daily lives we still are living in a war within ourselves, within our life.

How come we tend to forget the thrill of risks? The agony of suffering and the sweetness of success?

How come we tend to avoid the feeling of falling? The feeling of mounting up again?

How come we tend to be the average, to say yes to a stable, straight life?

How come we forgot the magic of chivalry?

War does not end in winning or losing, war is a loop of practicing and getting ready for a war you don't know when will break and life is a war, within ourselves, within the matters that we came in contact with.

 

For him.

Unannounced changes in life's itinerary are like dancing lessons from God.

Kurt Vonnegut

He would always ask me, 'Why me?' and every time, only silence seems the best reply. As much as I wanted to answer his question with words, even words can't explain why. Yes, it frightens me that such silence will only bring him doubt or misinterpretation but every time, even words lose its mystique.

When I look back I can tell our story's opening is like a blank piece of paper. With frustration, crumpled and  was closely tossed in the trash after the author succumbs in a story he can never start. There it was... until a hand took it from his friend's desk, and started sketching a love story words can never tell.

For him whom I never thought would make me feel this way. For him who would always endure my silent treatment : 'Unannounced changes in life's itinerary are like dancing lessons from God.' That's what you meant to me.