Hari ng Padala

It’s full and it’s filled with stuff ranging from electronics to clothes to toys to chocolates to house wares. It’s signed and sealed, from top to bottom and sideways with multi layered of packing tapes just to make sure it won’t be open in the middle of its month long journey. The only portion of the box that is visible is the middle part showing the address where the box is to be delivered and the name of the cargo company that prides itself as the “Hari ng Padala”. Astonished, I suddenly wondered who better deserved that accord. Is it the cargo company that physically delivers the package or is it us OFWs who trade our sweats and tears to make that box evolves larger that the sum of what’s inside it? You judge.

Christmas is just around the corner. More than any other month in the year, it is during this time that cargo delivery trucks appear more visible across the streets not just in the Philippines but also here abroad where the boxes originate. Customarily, it has become a call for Filipinos working abroad to send their best efforts and fruits of labor to their loved ones back home right at this time and right inside a box. As if pulling it off together is as easy as collecting sands in Arabia, snow in Canada or tin cans in America, we try to absolve our absence in these special times to be with our family by sending not the best gifts but our best thoughts and efforts thru a box for at least making up for the moments where we should have been with them.

Meet Dennis. As early as May 2009, he’s been saving a portion of his monthly salary to buy things that would comprise his first ever balikbayan box. At each payday, he would visit the hypermarkets with one thing in mind: buy the cheapest yet most useful and sincerest gifts he could give his family back home. Below his bed, soaps, salts, sugar, shampoos, shirts, shoes, stuffed toys, school supplies, casseroles, celfones were in plastic bags for months waiting for day they get boxed in and cargoed to his family in the Philippines. Dennis works as a salon attendant here in the UAE and just recently, he was able to send his highly anticipated box right to the Philippines. Meet Joseph, he is an engineer, two weeks ago, he ordered a big box from LBC and in two days, he was able to fill it up with varied types of expensive clothes, gadgets, shoes, toys for his family and relatives in Manila. Both of their boxes are now in transit.

The joy a balikbayan box brings is never contingent on what’s inside it and the joy of sending it to our loved ones is never dependent on how fast we could afford to fill it up. When these boxes reach its intended recipients, more than tangible things that comprised the goodies, it’s the thought and attention that matters and overwhelms. It doesn’t have to be the most expensive that would make them happy. I know Dennis’ family will feel just as proud as Joseph’s because he was able to send a balixbayan box though he’s just a minimal earner. I know, when his family open a box of Sneakers and try to eat it, they will be reminded of his sacrifices and willingness to live less of a better life abroad so he could provide more for his family back home.

A balikbayan box is more than just a big box of chocolates that serves good while it’s there. Like the image above, every inch of it represents what we are and every time we try to send the box to our loved ones back home, we are stripping a part of us, more than our sweats and tears so that the same thing could bring joy and comfort to the people whom we derive our inspiration to work harder.

Maybe

from my inbox.

Maybe . . . we were supposed to meet the wrong people before meeting the right one so that, when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.

Maybe . . . it is true that we don't know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we don't know what we have been missing until it arrives.

Maybe . . . the brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; after all, you can't go on successfully in life until you let go of your past mistakes, failures and heartaches.

Maybe . . . you should hope for enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.

Maybe . . . the happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Maybe .. . . the best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, ever say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.

Maybe . . . happiness waits for all those who cry, all those who hurt, all those who have searched, and all those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of all the people who have touched their lives.

Maybe . . . there are moments in life when you miss someone -- a parent, spouse, a friend, a child -- so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real, so that once they are around you appreciate them more.

Maybe . . . giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they will love you back. Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart; but, if it doesn't, be content that it grew in yours.

Maybe . . . you should dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go, be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you dream of, and want to do.

"Life is only traveled ONCE; Today's MOMENT becomes Tomorrow's MEMORY.Enjoy every moment, good or bad, because the GIFT of LIFE is LIFE itself."

Heart Broken

As the sun’s countenance drowns in the sea
So the moon can shine in its borrowed glee
Clouds gave their way in forgiving ecstasy
Wind astray, lightning and thunder free

In the middle of the long and peaceful night
Your voice came whistling with enormous might
In my deep slumber and in my cold empty heart
Suddenly burnt a fire I just couldn’t fight

And the river flows endlessly to the sea
As any procession leads to church eventually
My day dreaming had gone so hurriedly
Short lived joy, never thought it would be

The days that the sun emerged brightly
The hours and seconds that passed so quickly
With all attention in you spent idly
Never mind it appeared myself stupidly

Then the sun decided to pass the day
After long hours of fun and play
The moon re-appeared in emblazoned way
So beautiful, so far, unreachable frail

Hopelessly looking at the stars in sight
Wishing it would all turn up alright
My broken piece of heart’s delight
Brave to face the sun after tonight

Conqueror

As each day the sun rise
As each prays to be wise
As my baby sleep with his cries
Hearing his mama's lullabies

As the sun dries up the morning mist
As the day forgives with a subtle kiss
As the night wanders in eloquent bliss
As time travels in boundless breeze

I alone weep with my little wish
To cast my tears of fears and anguish
Not the cold wind to kiss my lips
Bu the warmth of a love's embrace

I have waited long and for so long
The days had passed to years and gone
Hopeless intimated toy balloon
Scared to fly and soar abandon

An incredible voice then came along
Out of no where to play a song
My world stumbled and my sight drawn
What couldn’t happen happened and I'm away blown

With all the years and days that passed
Of finding love that never was
The pain of solitude is freed at last
Here to stay, I hope, our match

Each day now the sun hugs west
I see the moon shines at its best
I couldn’t ask for more or less
With you, with you, I'm gratefully blessed.

Writings on the Ocean Floor

Look at me and you'll never see a trace that i have a passion for writing or making blogs in particular. Maybe you would rather conclude that i care more for illegal drugs and basketball, rock music and alcohol or even as someone who sells pirated DVDs. Looks can be very deceitful but what the heart wants echoes beyond what the bare eyes can see, true and inspiring and never superficial.

So why i do write? Wee, everybody just needs an outlet for expressions. Some people would dance, others would sing, few would kill and i do write. The thought i can never say and the thought i can never show, by traslating them to written words i find refuge to free myself and solicit a comfort of hope that someday somehow people would see me, seek me and speak of me beyond what i am commonly known for.

When do i feel most inspired to write? When i find my emotions at the bottompit of the ocean. When there's just nothing else to turn to and when there's no one lef to hang on. When so many things' troubling my mind. When ive got so many problems to attend to. When i am shouting loud and no one hears. When something so important happens and when something so depressing inevitably occurs. When i succeed in an endeavor and when i fail a challenge. Be it based on bad or beautiful, the drama, the humor and the tragedy are all worth the ink. Inspirations come from all sources but the will to get inspired comes from within.

I am paid working as an accountant, i am appreciated more for being a writer. Guess which of the two do i enjoy more? Of course, its when i write. There's no pressure, all honest to goodness of being me. I dont deal with numerics but with realism about me and the world i live in. There's just so many stories to tell and this way bridge the gap between me and the rule of conventions. That though i may find myself drowning in solitary confinement, buried deep in the abyss of self neglect and disassociation, i am still linked to the world, waiting for the time would surface these writings in the ocean's floor.

Let's Blog Again!

The Sea Inside

We are in turbulent times. The recent onslaught of typhoon Ondoy which has put the Philippines in a global subject of financial support is just a major sign of things to come. After the storm, many were left homeless, lives were claimed, properties were damaged, the actual scope of Ondoy's wrath is immeasurable. The "Great Flood" is what they have called it, almost the sea trying to engulf the bustling jungle of human settlement. While the rain poured hard to drown the sins of the world, there was no silence heard, there were cries, loud and screaming, there were shouts for help and rescue, there were weeps, endless and heartbreaking.

I, too, is in a middle of a storm. Before I think it's even over, I am already broken and hurt. I got mistakes and I battled the storm. But you can't. I couldn’t. Why do we experience storms? Why do the seas need to embrace the earth in such unsweet manner? Maybe we have wronged, maybe we have acted too much, maybe it just want us to realize that we should have loved and not only lived, that everything in this world has a purpose, has a feelings that could be hurt.

Many nights I have cried and my own seas slapping my face with gentle kisses of salty water. A little piece of hope is what keeping me still breathing and moving on. Hope that someday people that I have hurt will ever forgive me. I have decided to move on in silence. Let the storm pass. I have nothing left to lose. All was taken away. I was cleansed of the stubbornness. I am moving on in silence. I hope there I could meet peace.

Recently, a life long dream of mine has already been fulfilled, that is, to be at least mentioned in a blog award. Not everyone knows but I actually started blogging in 2004 back in time when most were still unfamiliar with blogging as a way of life. I think it's time to get a low. The vast and endless horizon of the sea inside me is wanting for reflection and absence from learning eyes. Till then..

Forgiven & Forgotten

I have always marveled at people who could forgive and forget; those who could forgive and essentially move on out of the pains like they had never been hurt. In all of my human abilities, I believe that this is one that I am totally weak to do so. For the adage in my nerves has always been "forgive but never forget". That is what it pays to be gifted with very good memories, not that I remember more, only that I don't forget much.

As is typical, things that happened, especially the painful ones of any origins, is logged in a wrinkle in my brains where it lays dormant, waiting for the moment of necessary recall to strike. I can let go of things, get passed certain frustrations or pains, get on with my life and be happy, but that doesn't mean I have forgotten the disappointment in someone or the pain they've caused. Somewhere along, I still feel the twinge of sadness or anger that the offense has left behind, I have just moved on.

I have heard stories of people who became good friends with people who have caused them pain saying that they have forgiven them for all their transgressions and offenses. I nod in disagreement. Perhaps I'm too old, set in my ways, or immature, but that makes no sense to me. Maybe they're just lying. It all seems like they are deluding themselves. Maybe it will be easier to say you've forgiven the wrongdoer, to ease the other person's guilt and to end the discussion and move on separately with your lives.

Either way, as I've stated above, I'm not good at forgiveness in its truest sense. Mention a past hurt and the ache of disappointment will swell once again, though thankfully not to the level of the original moment, but still. So, perhaps another adage is more correct: Time heals all wounds. Well, I don't think it heals; it just puts a lot of new memories in to fill the gaps and soften the shock and power of the bad ones.

Anyway, this is what I've been mulling over lately. And I realized in the middle of things that's going around me that it's time to let go. I could never be forgiven for all my indifference and offenses unless I myself have learned to let all my hurts and pains go with the wind. I could never achieve genuine peace if I live with hatred. Forgive? sounds good. Forget? Best idea. I wish us all peace.