Sunbeams and raindrops make up the fountain of youth.

I am in my 30s. And I am more than glad to be, not once, but most often times assumed to be in my 20s. It makes me smile and I wonder why people would make such remark and assumption. I never really thought about it until lately when the subject of age difference came up in a conversation. I decided to make a thorough self-check and point out the hits and miss of (my own) aging.

1. Let go of the age context. An old adage says that beauty is skin deep, well, I must say, aging is just a state of mind. If you perceive yourself as a 20 yr old on a 30 yr old body, then by all means, please believe so. On the other hand, if you feel and resemble a 35 yr old trapped in a young yet miserable 20 year old, you must then evaluate your state of mind, state of affairs and even self-esteem.

2. Be childlike, not childish. Remember how you've always admired the innocence of a child. Well, guess what, we never lost that. We just become more consumed with worldly, scholastic affairs while we age. When we reach the prime of our maturity, the innocence and wonder we once harbored becomes a vague, almost forgotten human trait. Be a kid again, give in to that once in a while, never lose grasp of that 5 yr old little girl that would run crazy and aimlessly at the plain sight of a huge playground. Eat ice cream, don't stop imagining things, look at the clouds and create stories. Most of all, do walk in the rain. Those childhood memories will flood back into you.

3. Never stop learning. By learning I mean experiencing and exploring life. Learn the things and crafts or even sport you missed when you were too occupied or perhaps I say-- rushing to be older than what you used to be. There must be that one thing you've always, always wanted to be or do when you were younger. Just go for it, may it be to run naked in a football field; skinny dip with your friends under the moonlight; drive for long hours to nowhere; jump into a bus and head into the unknown in the middle of the night; take up an art or violin class or perhaps drumming, crocheting or whatnot; learn to rap and dance in hip-hop, or waltz or tinikling maybe; start a project however silly people ought it to be. Hell yeah, just do it.

4. Believe in Equality. The curse of societal bondage and stereotyping wont hand this to you in a silver platter but you have to believe that there is a greater chance for equality if you become an ambassador for it. Gender equality is much a pressing issue in the many minds of human, making its way to endless courts of debate. But equality transcends many passages- age, sex, social stature, education, capacity, religion, belief and even in love. Believe that we are equals, whatever state or form you are in. The relevance of your existence and capacities defies the constraints of what defines you.

5. Take Care of Yourself, foremost. No matter how cliche', the secret to being golden is when you polish and nurture yourself to be golden. Love yourself, take care of yourself. Love the life you have and the world where you are born in. Karma begins within you, what you take in is what you emit back to life. If you eat golden sun rays for breakfast, you will be a radiant being in the day. If you dance under the rain, you can dance your way in any possible life situation. If you love life, life will love you back.

- T

Letters for the Lualhati Elders

Many of them told me that they no longer expect to be one day fetched and taken to a welcoming home by a  long lost son, a returning daughter or even a distant kin. They just hope that as they wait and witness the slow passing of the remaining days, someone, perhaps a stranger from somewhere, wandering and searching for a good time to pass, would chance upon this quiet, lowly, weathered bungalow inhabited by stationary shadows; of beings grey, frail with fading memories; of old women crying dry, tired tears;of weary, yearning hearts and empty gazes of once fathers, of once mothers, of once live, happy beings. 

Such a simple wish yet it seems painfully too much for most of us nowadays. A visit from a stranger,a touch to warm their cold frail hands, a smile to brighten their mood and perhaps a short talk to revisit their once happy life. Even so these instances may prove challenging for many because whether we like it or not, the fate of these elders could have not been changed by a mere idealistic,compassionate call to arms. It takes more than that, it takes more than an act but it might take less of a day's fortune or even less of an hour's time. It may even just take a simple note, a message, perhaps a handwritten letter- possibly the only manner of communication they would remember from their hay days. Yes, a letter, from you- a stranger who might care to make them smile, to let them know that love is alive and flowing in the hearts of many. A letter that would guarantee that their remaining days are meant to be welcomed with bright rainbows and golden rays of sunshine and hope, of love, of faith that there are people out there, who would care, who would actually fo out of their way, to do this simple act of compassion. 

Sometimes we need to wander away from our own comfort zone and visit those who needs comforting too. Sometimes, we need to write to those who wont even expect a message from you. Sometimes, we need to close our eyes and imagine the things that others never felt or seen.

For these elders who have absolutely noone to lean on but their rickety beds on their last days, we have to extend a hand, we have to show love. We just have to.

The one with the schmuck "good" writer.

I have never met a good writer who said he/she is a good writer. I think the real good ones leave it to their writing and not with their mouth to proselytize their passion for literature. 

The story behind this post stems from a eavesdropping incident that I can't help but write about. First, the person who is subjecting himself with self-praise is seated behind me, not to mention, airing his fantastical view of himself in-front of two bored females with a solid proud voice projected towards the whole crowd of hungry people eating dinner at McDonald's.

I was there, tormented and obviously disturbed by this man's unabashed, shameless broadcast of how good of a writer he is. Picking bits and pieces from his story-telling session, I assume that he is a blogger who gives advice to young lovelorn individuals online. He said he started giving advice and get ready for this, massive praises for his status messages which he used as the overrated catalyst and a major motivation to start his blogging career.

This is the part that intrigued me the most, this guy spoke with intense confidence, overflowing, overwhelming confidence, whew! That I almost choked when I heard him utter a statement so wrongly put together, so messed up with too much adverbs and complicated phrases that I almost stood up, walk towards him and hand him a paper with the words written: " Dude, you may be a good writer, yeah, keep it to yourself please and heed this when you write and maybe when you talk " eschew obfuscation, espouse elucidation", do spare us from your self-absorbed, overly self-righteous statements and just keep on writing good advice to your followers. Just write"

But then again, I did not do this although it was well-rehearsed and well-played in my mind. I did not do this because I think, an honest to goodness fan of the written word will just pen this story down instead.

May humility be bestowed upon that arrogant schmuck.

A Promise To Write Back- A cross post.

This is a letter exchange project started by an unassuming working class individual from Manila, Philippines.  Realizing the ornate ordinariness that constitutes the work life of the writer and author of this blog, she decided to contribute and ignite her passion for writing letters and essentially the written word through the birth of this project.

Describing her need to read and write random musings and ramblings, of which can be classified from (rewriting) and (proof-reading) event announcements, nutrition labels, exuberant commercial poster copies to handwritten postcards, lost letters from the past, to dusty books juxtaposed with 30 yr. old Reader's Digest and National Geographic Magazines, it can be simply put that her thirst to learn the affairs of the world through reading, is simply, unabashedly insatiable.

More than the pursuits of the author herself, this is a small yet hopefully, in its own snail-paced way, significant. Significant in the matters of the compassion- because it allows the writer from both ends to believe that someone, somewhere out there would still carefully read and actually appreciate a note to express even the most minute happiness of your heart. Second, for the matters of keeping a tradition - letters has been around since time in memorial. We, the educated, wise and forward-thinking individuals of today, owe it to letters that humankind's history is well endowed with scientific and institutionalized preservation methods. Our history lives because somewhere during the course of our evolution we have a letter dug up, hence revealing a moment from the past and studied and archived in a tight vault somewhere in this world. Lastly, for the matters of expressing an artform- writing for me, is an artform. May it be a letter, a poem, a single line sentence, it will mirror the very depths of your soul. It can either define that particular moment in your life as you write it down, or it can defy it. Like a true artist honing its craft, writing letters is a self-image manifested in carefully, passionately crafted words. It is your heaven and hell, what you write is what you feel, truly an artform.

Write anything. Write the events of your life that you're willing to share to the rest of the world. Write both the yearning and tidings of your heart, your life, or even your pet's. It doesn't matter, expect to be written back as a promise and a gratitude for your trust. Expect the most positive light in every letter, so in her own little way, the favor will be brought and sent back to you, from the stranger from not so far away, wanting to write letters.

You belong in my eye sockets.

Be grossed out, cringe and gnash your teeth, but sometimes all you have is your creativity and words to think of ways on how to escape exhaustion.

Like the state my eyes are in--they are their own unique and separate beings, if only I can gently pluck them out my socket, like a leaf floating in a pond, awaiting redemption from the surge of an incoming rain, I would. I will give these eyes a rest, in a bowl of shaved ice, diamond sprinkles, clear and crisp, soft and inviting. I will then cover them with a wool blanket, away from the sun, away from an emergence and urgency of mortality brought by the delirious whiff of dead air- humidity.

Tucked and hidden, I will allow them an undisturbed respite for 8 hours. 8 hours, an infinity in my world, and in the morning, I will carefully lift them up again, like a feather caught in mid air, yet this time, in melted ice turned cold water, wipe them sweet with love and affection, place them back into my sockets where they belong and co-exist with my body, like the missing puzzle piece you sought and found, you both carry on, you greet the morning and see the world again like it was the first time.

Immobility

I woke up this morning with an excruciating pain on my lower back. I was unable to bend over and walking in small strides troubles me even. The pain gradually builds up to its peak which immobilized me this morning. First thing in my mind was: " God, please don't take away my mobility from me, You know how I love walking, running and moving around ".  I prayed and rested, and mustered enough will power to come to work. Researching on my lower back pain now reveals that it can be caused by the ff: over-activity, herniated disc and disk degeneration. A break from too much physical workout, pain relievers and therapy can relieve the pain but it will always come back. 

I have no dependency on medicines, most of the time I endure and let any kind of sickness subside and die by virtue of immunity. I rarely get sick-physically but this one is incredibly persistent that I am contemplating on visiting a doctor for a consult and to get prescription medicine for the pain. But what drives me to fear this condition is the imminent danger of restricting my mobility. Everyone knows how much I love to move around freely. Aging as a cause for chronic back pain is acceptable, so is over-activity. I can deal and exercise a sound method to workaround on both limitations but If I am to be suffering from a disc injury, it will totally change the course of my life. 

I can't live my life in complete equilibrium if I am to lose or limit my freedom to walk and explore and just basically move. Like a wind, I just go places, anywhere, everywhere at any point in time. I sincerely pray to God that this is just a quick shove from Him to remind be to at least, walk on the right side, run like the wind on the right side, perhaps?     

Now, I must concentrate on getting well, surfing, touch football, boxing and running and graduate school and a career to grow, I have all these that will require me mobility.

A quick note

I've been listening to a lot of Angus and Julia and indie folk lately, add in Boy's Drive Darling as my current anthem. Lunch is always quiet- alone and on my desk but not lonely. I buy sandwich at Country Style and I go back to my desk, eat and listen to new songs, old songs, familiar songs and even poetry from Il postino. I am productive, in an average pace but I could have done more if I am not too distracted. I am eluding people to elucidate my mind and senses. Good thing my very kindred and stirred seatmate is not around today, I get distracted by her lack of work-related activity transgressing beside me while i work. I am not done with my presentation yet but I know I will cram and finish it soon. I have the basics laid down already, i have pictured in my head how to present it. No flare, just straight facts and plans. 

I adore that elephant sketch you sent me, now I wish that I can seriously sketch and not just doodle things. 

I like memories of my old friend by Angus and Julia Stone. Yes. I like them.

Engulf yourself, your senses with the the flame and passion that reignited the happyness in your heart. Keep it alive.