Rain is heavy and is making me more reflective than usual.
Heavy rains do that. I like the pitter patter rythm it creates as I silently hum it inside my head. and yes, as usual, I stare at my wall to the point of almost burning a hole into it.
I am twenty-five and as I look back in my life, I've pretty much accomplished what I wanted to accomplish. In fact, I always get what I want, despite the complicated chains of relationships and choices that I tie myself with.
So what else do I want?
What is there to do?
What am I to do with my life?
I could easily answer those -with a quick, superficial, and thoughtless reaction in verbal translations. It is so easy to get carried away and in the course of answering those questions -- it is, as always, so easy to forget the reason of asking them in the first place.
but --- what is the REAL question?
am I asking myself the right ones?
Am i concerning myself with the issues that must be prioritize?
is it worth it?
Four years of Philosophy -- and still, critical thinking on my part requires effort.
The convenience of common understanding and stock social definitions are so conveniently within reach that I have to disengage myself - and disengage so in a very frustrating way to be effective even in my personal reflections.
My prejudice of things and the past knowledge that I have - both voluntarily and involuntarily - acquired is just making it hard for me to see things in its naked truth.
And so with my life as I question it, I cannot help but look back and define me with my past experiences and choices --- but is that all there is to me and my life?
Am I to be defined by my past and is hopelessly bound to be molded through and through by my future?
Will I always be an unfinished present project of the universe-- wrecking havoc and change as I grow and consume life the way I am doing so right now? -- or am I, really?
In college, I've dreamt of social change and I've worked for it through my arts. I've learned to bend my body to adjust to the social curriculum of my community. I've learned to flick my fingers at the beating of the drum as I find my rythm and balance in this social dance I was born into. And as I listen to the music, as I watch the people gaping and in awe with my movements, as I felt the hot lights burning my skin... I noticed that they cannot see beyond the stage.
They loved my dance but they do not care to understand what it is for.
They follow my steps but stays only with the groove they are familiar with.
Anything new, anything strange -- anything they do not know -- they see as dangerous.
And as the beat became faster, the steps harder, and the actions more complicated -- they didn't care to follow. They stayed in their comfort zone, smiling and clapping -- but nonetheless disengaged at the experience, not caring to join -- not bothering to step in, promising support -- but always at a distance -- feigning sympathy, pretending to know with their textbooks in hand, with memorized theories... with complicated research citations...
How can you understand the rythm of hunger if you haven't experienced starvation? How can you say you know how it feels to be poor when you have an abundant life?
How can you say you care -- when in your eyes -- all you see are strangers doing even stranger things.
Yes, some changes happened -- some social shake here and there that rocked the arrogant struture and composition of certain institutions. but then again -- it was but a little pebble that created a series of ripples in the pool of tears...
My performance has come to an end -- and as the lights died down...as I took my bow, as I see them leave -- I found my dance to be shallow -- and I found myself asking -- "did I do the right thing?"
All these doubts -- all these concerns--- all these questions, for a certain, cannot be answered on my own. Like the rain, it needs the earth to catch it. The water needs to kiss the soil, to flow within the roots of every tree, to be savored by every being, to round the grounds back and forth till it evaporates itself to become it once was...a dripping liquid phase of life.
one's questions must then be like rain.
fluid and ever flowing...
because -- Baseless questions can hurt the soul.
Unanswered queries can burn the mind.
the Wrong type of asking can only bury one in doubt...
Redundant ones hardens the heart...
So what do I want? Where do I begin? What to do?
**Looking -- waiting -- so far -- no answers are in sight.