secret worlds

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It’s that thing when you’re with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it… but it’s a party… and you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining… and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes… but – but not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual… but because… that is your person in this life. And it’s funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it’s this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s – That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

– Frances Ha (2012)

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the greater adventure

So, here’s the thing: I refuse to commodify adventure.

It happened some time this semester when I desperately wanted to go on an adventure – which translated into a hike/beach/road trip or any forms of travel in the literal sense – in the hopes of taking myself out from a dull routine. But because of time and financial difficulties as a student, I was left with the following ordinaries: poolside meetings, travel between home and school, early dinners in convenience stores and street side eateries, and frequent visits to the bookstore among others. And it is in these seemingly forgettable moments that I was reminded of a different sense of adventure.

This is the kind that makes use of the common, the kind that magnifies the ordinary, for it to metamorphose into a meaningful encounter. The kind that is quieter, less costly yet equally, if not more, lovely. The kind that is, with constant training of the mind, always readily available. It can take great efforts at times to see from this perspective, but never stop trying. Somewhere along the way, I am hopeful you will meet rare souls who will let you experience every day as a new exploration.

Adventure in the literal sense is great. But I hope you also find excitement and wonder in sitting silently next to someone while watching the rain fall, in dancing to the music played in convenience stores, in the bus rides between home and school, in going past strangers on your way somewhere (every. single. day. THE WORLD IS BIG), even and mostly in mere conversations.

 

a foreigner in the land of the forgetful

Most of the time, I feel some kind of disconnection from my generation, if not from humans in general. Perhaps this is caused by the diminishing wonder in most people as they enter the world of adulthood, or such that comes with the realization that the world has its terrible parts. Although at some point, I, too, am guilty of this – I have become one with the forgetful and have not taken notice of life’s charm for a while. I can’t blame people. It’s very unchallenging to hate the world. If you’re not careful, you could easily become some sort of a machine who wakes up to the same day and sleeps on the same night for the rest of your life, which is one of the scariest and saddest things that could happen. I have met so many people who are exactly like that. They walk in such a manner as though they are always late for something. They do not bother to look up, or to look outside, that a sun rises and sets without their awareness. Such are the people who have gone blind.

But you can fight this threatening loss, no matter how long you journey in life. It is by remembrance and further exploration that one can battle against forgetfulness. Needless to say, these require deliberate actions. This may mean slowing down, taking a necessary short pause. I must warn you, though. In the land of the forgetful, many raise their brows on whoever refuses to be like the rest. They call those who see things that they don’t many names – weird, alien, crazy. But you must not lose heart. In the land of the forgetful, blessed are those who are blind to the ordinary – the only blindness one should possess.

And if you never stop praying, seeking, and waiting, you will come across people who will stir your fascination and passion in life. Build connections with such souls. They are beneficial in maintaining the magic in your journey. Sometimes, they are the magic. Sometimes, they are home.

 

a conversation about the moon

I told him of when I was younger, how I thought the moon always followed me as I walked and looked at it. He said that’s what his younger self believed, too. I talked about how I used to stare at it and think that daytime was swallowed by the moon at night, reason for its splendor. Day skies hid itself in the innermost part of the moon. And days were reborn, ran freely in the horizons, or spat out by the moon come morning. It didn’t really make sense, but he found it interesting. He said that the moon could be a place to preserve the day’s memories. Whenever a person felt sad at night, he only needed to look at the moon to remind him of the day’s joy. I wanted to ask my friend: what if a person never had a happy moment in a day? I didn’t ask, anyway. It felt too heavy for the inner children in us then.

But tonight, the answer comes to me: he will look for the moon, but he will not find it.