Prinsesa’s Anatomy

When I see something interesting, I have this habit of writing it down. Recently, I was going through my phone’s draft folder and found this thought by Sigmund Freud:

Human beings are funny. They long to be with the people they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized or even worse, returned. But one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be remotely connected with their object of affection even if it kills them slowly within.

It is a disturbing thought, however, it is also very true – tension of opposites, remember? But what I find most interesting about human beings is this: even when we are undoubtedly flawed, sometimes crazy, and most times cowardly, we still manage to overcome all of these and thrive.

‘Realization’ is one of my favorite words.

I totally agree with Freud when he postulated that the human subconscious is way larger than we think. I am always surprised when I find out things that has always been at the back of my mind, or when I finally realize emotions I have had since day one.

It is truly interesting how we always tend to know what we are supposed to know, give or take a trigger or a little stimuli for us to be conscious about it. It is as if everything is out there, so ‘obviously hidden’ from our sight till the last two minutes of the ball game.

Maybe that is why I have quite interesting views when it comes to ‘looking’.

Sometimes, we need to open our eyes, to see. But other times, I have found out, we cannot trust what we see that there is always a need to close our eyes and go by how we feel. However, by feeling, in the dark, it can be hard to truly comprehend what we are supposed to see, because literally, we are blind.

But in the end, I guess the point is, there really is no reason to look for something – all we really need is to look.

It is hard to do the right thing when the right and wrong are both defined relatively – primarily the reason why the world is sick.

Doing the right thing specially becomes difficult when how you really feel clashes with it. It is like thinking about it and finding it good in your head only to realize that your chest is revolting. Besides, there is nothing more satisfying than revenge, or redemption, or basically just doing anything you desire.

But to give justice to being human, just because we can do it does not really mean we should.

Suffering is optional. Happiness is a choice.

I just returned from a spiritual retreat and to say I feel great is an understatement. I feel transformed, reborn.

I discovered a lot, why I am carrying so much emotional baggage, and why I allowed myself to carry them in the first place. I guess I reached a point where everything just got too heavy I was stuck.

But not anymore.

I realized that holding on to pain is like having one hand in between the jaws of a shark, while on the process, your other hand still continues to pet the shark.

It was a very painful process, the retreat, but feeling all the pain – embracing the pain till I bleed, and knew every single aspect of that pain- has led me into acceptance that cleared my mind and helped me see what mattered most – that there are more important things than pain, or holding on to someone’s guilt.

Clearly, there is no use for negativity in one’s life – for if you are filled with it, you are not allowing any space for beautiful things to come. If we fill our hands with so much baggage, we would not have any more free for new, worthwhile ones to be picked up.

Most importantly, if we are unhappy, we suffer, and the worst part is, the people who love us are also unhappy, and suffering.

It may sound very pious, but really, all we need to do is to let go and let God.

Success is the ability to move on from one failure to the next.

I spent the day with my good friend who had just failed in the recent board exam for accountants. We ate a lot – almost had a party, and gave food away to the neighbors, who one after the other asked, “whose birthday is it?” We thought he was really special because failing and all, we still had a bash.

We talked about it, the failing, a bit, but it was really more on a fun tone, though we never dared to underrate the impact, it was definitely not okay – but more definite was that I won’t allow him to sulk about it. I told him that crying upon hearing the news was enough; doing it again would be redundancy, and to be called redundant was just ridiculous.

I have enough sense stored on the old cabbage to think about success in a positive way, I mean, about failure, in a better light. We decided that what happened to him was just one way of not passing the board – and there are tons of ways he can take next so that he’ll eventually receive a different outcome. I’m sure it hurt, and probably it hurt like hell, so much that I would never understand… but a little self-pity and that’s that, no more, no less.

For one, things happen for a reason – the universe is so grand I cannot bear to think that the cosmos would allow something to occur by mere chance, without rhyme nor reason – maybe in a parallel universe, but definitely not on this one.

Plus, failing once is not really failing. Ultimately, it is what you really do after failing that will determine how the world judges your success.

Our actions, or lack thereof, speak for ourselves, of who we are, of what we are.

I just turned 22 last weekend. We had a quiet lunch inside our house with only my family as guests. It was really hard to celebrate and be festive when thousands and thousands are left hungry and homeless across the nation, but of course something’s got to give.

The mood was murky and wet, but again, we were very lucky that the storm has kept us dry and warm and safe, that when the people on the hardest hit areas were panicking and fighting for their lives, we were sound asleep and cozy on our beds. With this thought, it is more than enough to be thankful for the 22 last good years on Earth, and some maybe in a parallel universe.

The past days leading to my birthday has left me badly preoccupied and fatigued that I really lost it trying to prepare for my day – anxiety attacks hounding me every five minutes and all, that really, celebrating my birthday has become a thought pushed somewhere at the back of my mind, that when it actually came, I was unprepared for all the love and attention my loved ones poured on me, it felt like too much ear scratching for a cat, but then, if you are a cat you can never have enough ear scratching.

I pause to think about my life, yet all that comes to me is an enormous wave of gratitude towards all of the people that has kept on loving me through the years, who has been by my side, who never doubted me and my abilities, and who have used all the patience in the world in trying to put up with me – my family, my handful of friends, my Man… I am not the easiest person to love, and there really are no indications that it is about to change, and yet I am blessed with everyone and everything that I could possibly have, give and take one or two.

Don Domeng keeps on telling me how young I still am, and I agree, since day after day I stumble upon tons and tons of meaningful and meaningless things I still have to learn, but no worries, I really do not have any plan to take hold of any machine to expedite the process – I enjoy growing up; lately, I feel I am starting to be very process oriented, unlike my previous years where I was an output maniac of some sort.

I am still reciting my Kung Fu Panda line of the times, “you are too concerned with what was and what will be”. I try my hardest to live in the present, to understand that it truly “is a gift, that’s why it is called present”, and to put my trust in the Absolute that in the long run, things will fall into their proper places, just as they always should. It is not really an easy thing to do; as you’ve probably guessed by reading my posts, I have not fully learned to let go of the illusion of control – I am not sure how much more I have to hear the peach tree story until I finally get it, but so far, I feel I am willing to watch it a thousand times more.

I know there are still many goldfish to catch, and many more cans of tuna to open waiting for my whiskers to reach. As of now, it is clear that it won’t be an easy ride; but if one thing’s clearer, it’s that I am not about to give up – that may be the easiest thing to do in the world, but that is not for me.

After all, I still have eight lives to live.

The number you have dialed is either unattended or out of coverage area. Please climb the mountain.

I don’t fight. I am a diplomatic person… whose idea of diplomacy is like that of saying ‘good doggie’ while getting a bigger stick. LOL. I don’t fight. I do aggressive negotiations.

But peace does not always have to be a fight. Here are some words that might be helpful and turn your ‘fights’ into a conversation, and maybe for a change you might end up winning your cause.

1. I understand.

2. I am listening.

3. Let’s look at it from your point of view and from mine.

4. What I really mean to say is…

5. Let us be objective about this.

6. I am not mad, I am confused.

7. Maybe we should talk later to let off steam first.

8. What I hear you saying is…

9. Are you trying to say that…

10. I’m sorry.

Now this works best when you don’t shout them to whoever you are talking to, okay?

To be asleep is to be in an alternate reality, where you can fly, or paint the sky red, or date Michael Phelps.

To dream is to take a peak into the subconscious, and see your world with your own eyes, and feel its joy and pain.

To sleep is to practice being dead, and if you are lucky, to wake up and open your eyes once again, when the morning comes.

Death ends a life, not a relationship. – Morrie Schwartz

In light of recent events in the country, my thoughts push me to think about death. I am very comfortable talking about death, much more talking about my own, wondering how I am going to die, or more specifically, of what disease will probably take my life.

Mother Goose would be fuming mad each time she would hear me or my sisters talk about it. I guess she is a part of the typical Filipino – or even the world’s – culture that cringes each time death would creep up on conversations, as if it can be transmitted if you speak of it.

But of course, I differ in that world view. Maybe because I have so much accepted that death is as natural as living – as it always had been – and it is a lucid truth that it will one day come, and that there is really no harm done when it finally comes, better yet it brings peace. After all, the only way to be with the Absolute is only through it.

When I see people cry over a loss, I had always thought those people are crying because of selfish reasons: because they cannot see, feel, and be with the deceased. But I would always feel relieved each time I would know that someone suffering from an illness or really old age has passed. I would always welcome their peace and end of their suffering. Their passing will always be good news to me.

And when the time comes that it is my time to pass, the thought of my epitaph crossed my mind. It took a nanosecond for me to realize what I wanted written down on it. I would want the same one as that written on Morrie Schwartz’s.

A teacher to the last.