To Slay the Dragon

Therapied. If there's such a word. I'm back determined to slay the dragon. Life's too short for me to make it shorter.


"A Prayer"
(by Max Ehrmann)



Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair
overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me
in the desolation of other times.

May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over
the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet
river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God
to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.

Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded
moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.
Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions be
such as shall keep me friendly with myself.

Lift up my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the
stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest I condemn myself.
Let me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my
path.

Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am; and keep ever
burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope.

And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within
sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for
life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and
may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

Losing strangeness, taking pains

The storm yesterday left as quickly as a transient tourist. The strong winds blew off roofs, branches and leaves of trees, and more leaves for minutes then the wind dissipated. Fresh leaves blanketed roads and pathways as if it was deliberately done, unfortuitously, created by some art maniac installing a 3d art. Left the house at about 3 o'clock to buy lunch and upon seeing the swarm of wet litter a passing thought kicked up a rumpus in my mind.

Summer has ended once more and it's the start of the rainy season. The transition's really too fast leaving no traces to remember that yesterday's only summer. It's been a month since I arrived here in my new home as a stranger. The place has been very hospitable to me that a month's adjustment didn't even get a bruise out of the cynic in me. There's this new friend a 5-year-old. His name is James, the grandson of my landlord who frequently visits my flat in 'unusual' moments. He would barge in my room without me knowing it. He would come as if he knew me a long time ago and happy to know that finally he'd met me again. The boy would climb up to me, never taking any apprehension of disturbing my reading sessions, he would try to sit on my lap. The last time he visited he was so enthusiastic about another horror story from me. He would listen with so much intent but would always be terrified in the end asking me to cut the story short. And that would always make me laugh.

He would ease moments of pain which I've been frequently succumbing into.

Many successful Bar passers are telling that you should leave all your baggages whatever they may be when you jump into your review, for you not to lose focus. I have tried to leave all those baggages behind. Sadly, they've been here with me all along. . .haunting me like ghosts in the night. It's been a struggle for me the past few weeks to take control and to force my nose in a book. It's been an overwhelming emotional battle which left me thinking very deep into the pitch-black well of my past. And that the logical becomes rather an elusive and restraining issue for me now is inexplainable. At some moments I take a pause in studying and look far beyond my vision's reach and ask myself who I am, where I am.

Am I losing this battle? Will I be able to halt and reverse this downward spiral?

There are times when I want to take on a job for some kind of diversion, but that too would necessarily divert me from my review. It's my dilemma lately. . .losing at both ends.. .

Yes, my friend, I've been struggling. I'll try my best not be knocked off by these emotions. I'll try my best to survive even if it means more wounds, more scars to bear. . . This is torment in its purest form. The defining element and storyline of this boy's life.

New Sanctuary

Whole week has passed. It has not been hard for me to adjust to a new environment as I have thought. I am lodged here at an unknown flat, an unknown place where different modes of nuisance abound yet comfort and silence play intercourse like fighters drawn to dripping blood.

There’s not much to talk about a community of illegal settlers. They’re here to have roofs above their heads like anybody else. Houses here are a lot more decent than what you might think. Here in my rented space I have my own sink, my own bath, my own bed, a foldable table, a chair, an antique bed to look and gaze at when my eyes get tired of looking at words ad infinitum. Outside my dwelling is a garden where two tall trees stand. Their fruits and leaves occasionally fall and litter the ground.

Am always reminded by my portly landlord who always catches his breath to lock the gate and have a separate padlock for the front door. Just to be sure that my belongings will be secure from thieves. As long as thieves won’t learn to eat books I will definitely survive. I brought three big boxes of books from Baguio and they’re now lined up waiting to be read by this slacker in me who’s more interested in reading fiction M & M

Murakami & S. Meyer. Thank God they’re nowhere to be found.

The Bar, yes the Bar. Thinking of it gives me feverish thoughts. I want to believe there’s such a thing as sadism by way of loading your brain with too much information. But, the painting of Michael O’Toole remains an icon. It’s entitled Racing the Wind. A sailboat on a tough spot amidst rough waters. The strong wind drawn through high waves in a deep blue shade. I bought it three years ago. It now found its place on a barren white-washed wall. It would always follow its owner’s changing sanctuary.

***

A drifting message in a bottle has found its way to the shores, west. Thanks to you Lydia for filling something in me that’s long been empty. It’s just that I couldn’t find the right word to describe that filled space. I hope you continue to pursue your interest in learning to play the violin. A teacher once told me that it’s never too late to bow the strings and produce the most sacred sound on earth. I enrolled as a beginner back in December 2006 only after years of planning and yearning. It’s a joy to realize a childhood dream. Follow the beat of your heart always and you’ll find happiness.

Redemption

Today's the second day of our bar review and I am already exhausted because of the stifling heat. Yesterday's temperature surged to 38°C. The review hall's four heavy-duty air conditioners didn't work against the heat. Everybody still perspired and made their own way of fanning the heat out.

Don't have so much to tell you about how the review process is going. There's nothing to talk about yet because I'm still primping my mind. I have to pretend to be organized as yet and make a schedule. The sad fact is that there's so much trying involved. And that must not be. Call that the Great Squander. Yes. And I am losing balance.

The heat. Yes, the heat is stifling.

And there's a lot of Old school here. A lot of old man with hoarse voices. From the black woofers a blast from the past; a redolent feel of listening from a 60's radio show; from a vintage radio.

Bulging eyes, sagging face, thick lenses, the old man welcomed the 700-strong crowd like an announcer at a circus show. Welcome, welcome. If there's one thing I remember from his long speech it's about the call to Redemption. Sheer redemption, yes. “By way of passing the Bar, you will be redeemed of your mistakes, of all your sins from the past.” How true, how true.

Amidst the stifling heat, you indeed made a horrible assumption. And what is that you told about: “Yes we're willing to give you a mock bar after July. . .yes we, will. . .if (devilish grin) you will give us something for our effort.” Oh, please repair your air conditioning system first will you?

The heat. Yes, the heat is stifling. And I don't want to be redeemed anytime soon.