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.