|"So free we seem, so fettered fast we are." Self portrait. Puerto Galera, Summer of 2012|
In the middle of the battle of political words, artsy collects, sugar-coated rants, spite and nonsensical stuff flooding my Facebook timeline, I found a gem of words that made me contemplate real hard and I thought it is genuinely worth sharing. So allow me to share it although I will paraphrase. And yes, the idea is entirely not mine and this is not in any way an attempt to plagiarize:
Once there was a well-known speaker who started his talk by holding up a $20.00 bill and asked “who would like this $20 bill?” Hands started going up. He then said, “I’m going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this.” And he proceeded to crumple up the bill and spoke once more. “Who still wants it?” Still, hands were up in the air. The speaker then replied, “what if I do this?” And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. “Now who still wants it?” Still, hands went into the air. “My friends,” the speaker said. “We learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We may feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless.
The past days have been quiet agony for me. I was suffering from depression attacks in the least conducive timing of all. Although to be honest, I think there could never be a fitting time to feel severe depression, but everything that happened the past three to four days required me to be in my sanest form. And yet I wasn’t.
I wish I could explain how and why. But I could only apologize to people who became wary, insulted maybe, or I hope, misunderstood, my behavior.
Depression could be anything. One triggering factor and it would come down rushing like an avalanche. One of the creeping thought during this time is the feeling of worthlessness. It is an effect of recollections of dejections, mostly failures that came like ghouls tearing your flesh for supper.
I’m glad to say I’m better now. And what perfect timing for I will be celebrating my second year of feat against death this September 8. Two years ago, I almost died of dengue fever. But after days of terrible hospitalization, exactly the day of the Holy Mother’s birthday, I was miraculously saved.
Often times I would forget this. Often times I would feel my life is so insignificant especially for those who rejected me countless times. But then, days of reckoning would also pop out of nowhere like my depression and I would feel well and realize it did not and will not matter if my heart is broken into million pieces, or I’m beaten up and would fall on my knees like always. That for as long as I have my hands to extend for others, I will be just fine and there I’ll have my worth.
I remember this poem I’ve written almost two years ago and for some of you who have remained with me, it would sound very familiar. It goes like this:
I survived the war but I did not win the battle
The guns no longer in anger, the canons now tamed
The air is silent, the deceased scattered
Look! A mighty soul standing.
He is not alone.
I’ve been to many battles since the day I wrote this and often times I found myself on the losing side. Curiously, the former Great Soltero replied to this post back in 2010 and asked, “isn’t surviving winning in itself already?” Indeed, he was right. And to add to that, I learned that it doesn’t matter losing or winning, what matters is how you fought your battles and how willing you are to take the next leap onto the next ones.
So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye from Freddie Mercury's Bohemian Rhapsody
Désolé Boy | Year 1, Seq 1
Désolé Boy - Indeed | Year 1, Seq 2
Désolé Boy - Nothing really matters | Year 1, Seq 3
Désolé Boy - Anywhere the wind blows | Year 2, Seq 4
Désolé Boy - We beheld the stars once again | Year 2, Seq 5
Désolé Boy - No escape from reality | Year 2, Seq 6
Désolé Boy - I just gotta get out of this prison cell | Year 3, Seq 7
Désolé Boy - So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye | Year 3, Seq 8