Just about time

Waking up from dream to dream as I nursed my high fever all day in bed. Dreams containing the people I love, the people I long to be with, people revealing what connection we have -- the magic thread that connects us to this life cycle. Dreams revealing truths, however it hurts. Sometimes messy dreams. Sometimes incomprehensible dream as how the dew feels when leaving the tip of a grass at dawn.

Must be the full moon again. Feeling deeply about my failed loves, failed dreams, failed relationships. Sighing from one minute to the next. Waiting for your email. Receiving calls from a worried lover. Reading blogs, trying desperately to connect to something that might give life meaning. What I feel is pain, dull pain in particular. Dull that I don't know how to release it. So dull that I cannot even contain it inside me anymore. Pains and frustrations, here are the bitter dishes that will keep me company to cold and empty dinner tonight. Sometimes there are moments when I have to resist the call of melancholy, but it is as we all know persistent, just like the cycle of the moon -- full, quarter, balsamic, new. Again and again this will continue, again and again this cycle will unfold whether we like it or not. It will conquer us and  its waters will destroy our sandcastles -- oh well pain I am so used to you now.

What's the point of building when it is meant to be destroyed? What's the point of connection when we cannot really maintain it, after just days, we become strangers again. It is like a helpless pattern.

As the light of the sun fill the light-less moon, I want to reveal my pains and sufferings. I want the world to know that I am just human, that I can bear just the minimum of it. Because pain as much as truth, dehumanizes. I want to reveal the pain of longing, the pain of hoping, the pain of believing. But I guess the world is just too fragile for my hurts. Above all the noise of the city and the muzak of the neighboring street, it was just stale air -- nothing above that will take this pain to a higher being for immediate healing. No, I grew too bitter to believe that.

That it depends on us to redeem ourselves. Sariling kain, sariling busog. How religion make life so dry and brittle, how I feel so alone. How relationships can bring me to the top and topple me down unaware to the deep pit.

But I know deep inside, as I rescue myself from myself -- from utter pain to a place of hope and resurrection, that we are capable of that spark of hope to guide us through the dark. It is when faced with difficult questions that we remember our divine heritage. That we are capable of dragging ourselves out of misery, melancholy, pain and loneliness, it has to happen from deep within. That spark is the other part of us that we forget as we pay all our attention to mundane life. It must be time to wake up to that sparkling side of us. We are complete from the beginning, we just have to be painfully aware of it, every single second of our lives. The pain and melancholy make the soil of sparkling side of us rich, that we are ready for its eventual fruition. That it is calling us to wake up to a bigger part of us. The better part of us.

Maybe it's not too late. As I nurse my fever and as I watch the full moon from my window, I offer a silent prayer that we will reveal to ourselves that sparkling side of us. It is just about time.