Tale of two rivers

For the last few weeks I've been reading two novels that contain impressive rivers.

The first river is not named, but let me call it River Siddhartha as it is from the novel Siddhartha written by Herman Hesse. This is a very wise river. If you listen closely, you'll hear it give you advice. And if you listen even closer you'll hear it laugh (sometimes mock you), sing, or cry. Many a soul that searched for enlightenment found it here, after listening to the river.

The second river is the River Piedra. Legend has it that everything that falls into the river turns into stone and sinks down the riverbed. People with broken hearts often go on the banks of the Piedra and try to rip their hearts and throw them into the river to have the pain they feel taken away from them.

I wish these two rivers are near Cagayan de Oro, or even better, near Bugo so that I can walk by it everyday. Everyday that I go to work. And everyday that I go back from work. Whenever I'm weary, I could walk on the banks of the River Piedra and touch its waters. Aren't those tears? I could find comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one tired of everything that has been going on around me. Whenever I'm lost, I could sit by the River Siddhartha and listen to its wise waters. Sure, she'll mock me for the stupid things that I put myself through, but then later she'll take pity and tell me my options. She won't tell me what to do. I have to solve my own problems, but under her guidance.

It would be nice to have those two rivers near me. Both rivers are gifts from God, gifts for the weary, aching, broken souls that wander around the city. Both rivers are gifts from God, gifts for the happy, glad, contented souls that skip about around the city. Lamentations and celebrations united by each river, united by both rivers. Cries and laughter heard as one in each river, in both rivers. Tired souls and happy souls in communion by the two rivers.

This December, this Christmas season, may I find both rivers.

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho

This is a story about Pilar and her childhood friend (love) who left the place they grew up in to pursue his dreams. One day they met again and he asked her to join him on a journey. She didn't know it then, when she agreed to join him, that it would also be a journey through the memories of their past that would beg her to reevaluate her thoughts on faith and religion and her feelings for him.

This is one of those books (and there are lots of them) that I probably won't read on my own. A friend sent me an email last August asking me to read this book adding that on page 178 she almost cried. She's the same friend (now working in Dubai) who convinced me to watch the Korean dramedy "Goong". I don't know whether we read the same edition of the novel, but on page 178 of the edition I read there's a passage that I read a couple of times before continuing on.

"I am going to sit here with you by the river. If you go home to sleep, I will sleep in front of your house. And if you go away, I will follow you—until you tell me to go away. Then I'll leave. But I have to love you for the rest of my life."

I have to love you for the rest of my life... I think I stared at this sentence for who knows how many minutes before continuing with the next. To love somebody for the rest of your life even after he or she told you to leave. It's sad and probably won't stand the test of time. And if you do it even after knowing somebody else owns her heart, there's that question of being able to love someone else. Wouldn't you want to love somebody else? Wouldn't you want the possibility of loving someone else? But to ask these questions would be missing the point, according to the book. To ask those questions would be to worry about whether she'll say yes or no. It's as if you can't love unless she loves you back. If I read the book correctly, it's telling me not to worry about how it will end. If it's a sad ending, remember the happy moments before that. God's will be done.

by the river

I was by the River Piedra this afternoon and I saw you there. I touched the waters and I felt your tears. May the river carry them far so that you may forget the pain of shedding them. In due time every wound will heal. May he recognize your love, my lady. And may he love you back.

Distant rose

I started writing this poem months ago (June 2006, to be exact). I never got around to finishing it and now I've decided I don't want to finish it anymore. And so I'm posting it now. It shall remain like this forever. By the way, I started writing this poem after a conversation (via Gmail chat) with Mungkey, a poet and a college classmate. It started with me asking him about his "signature" and ended up with us talking about how sad and painful it was to be in love with women who are way out of our league. He said he wrote some poems about such predicament and I thought why wouldn't I do the same.

admiring a rose from a distance

it was not what i hope to find
but over green fields there it is
a flower so pretty
and i go lurking, admiring
the rose from a distance

the gentle breeze touches it
and i am moved, filled with
joy and peace and wonder
over the distance i felt it
such beauty and grace, such color

i have to move closer
to see things clearer
but as i walk towards it
the colors begin to fade
i'm at a lost, what's happening

and then i saw it
a blood red ribbon tied around its stalk
a kid made you his
i come closer and you fade
beauty and color and fragrance all

or is it the flower's choosing
to fade away as i draw closer
i don't know, how, why can cruelty
be inside such beautiful creature
i'm at a lost, what's going on

Dream of walking

I awoke with a start. Just last night I went to sleep assured that I'm taking the right path, that I'm moving in the right direction. This morning it seemed that reality came crushing down on me. I can forgive myself, of course, for believing that I'm moving the right way. But up to how long, I'm no longer sure. Perhaps I loved this forest so much that I didn't care that I was moving around in circles. I see a familiar tree and I say to myself, "I've seen this tree before." But instead of taking a different path, I find myself moving in exactly the same direction. I know I'm moving around in circles, but maybe I want to move around in circles.

But something changed.

Today, I woke up under a tree, a tree that gave me shelter many times before, and the question just came to me. What am I doing? It's as if the tree asked me, "aren't you getting tired of the forest? Aren't you tired of walking the same path? Of admiring the same trees? You can't stay here forever."

Then the alarm went off. I must get up, prepare, and go to work.

One raw tomato and a glass of orange juice

I missed my late sister. Eventhough she died when I was four (she was seven), I have memories and glimpses of us having fun, of her taking care of me, of her taking me along when she played or visited her friends, and of us being scolded by our parents for skipping an afternoon nap to go to a friend's house. One recurring memory I have of her was when she prepared an orange juice for me. I'd watch her prepare it. She probably did this a lot (not just one lazy afternoon) because if you ask me what I remember of her, I'd always picture her preparing that one cool, refreshing glass of orange juice for me. Another would be a picture of her handing me lots of raw tomatoes to eat, be it in our house or our neighbor's house. And I know I'm not imagining this tomato-eating thing because my childhood friends who are older than me would say that she did do it (handing me raw tomatoes for me to eat) a lot. If she lived beyond seven years old, I'd probably have a glass of orange juice and one raw tomato as my favorite snack.

Reunited with the departed

Last November 2, All Souls Day, I attended the 5:30PM mass at Xavier University. In the homily the priest said, "The sure way to be reunited with our loved ones who went ahead of us is to die." I'm sure he didn't mean to say that we should kill ourselves to be reunited with our departed loved ones, but rather it was an assurance that we'll meet them again someday, after we die. And this is reason enough not to fear death.