Transitions

From my desk at the office, I have a view of a mountain range that looks like an area graph, in dark green, mostly a steady horizontal, with one minor peak towards the rightmost end.

On beautiful afternoons, this range would be a picturesque background behind a sea of houses and a few buildings jutting upwards here and there. Looking at the contrast between the structures illuminated by the fast setting sun, and the green, almost black, background evokes warmth and respite.

These afternoons.

Strangely, they make me think of the red slippers I used when going to the farm as a kid. It is a thought to smile about but, it's probably just lack of caffeine most of the time. They also remind me of my black notebook where I would scribble notes from university classes. I liked how it had looked so worn and old, and how I would never have traded it for an iPad. I also remember, "What is essential is invisible to the eye..." It took me a long time to understand why the rose would cough when she was clearly not sick. I thought that was funny.

But I have to bring myself back to reality, where I read an email about rewarding the alcoholics in the office, or the one about a benefit that we have to pay for. On some special days, I have to urge myself to see through a situation that is deserving of judgment less than positive, explaining the basics of culture. And I have learned this by heart: it is difficult to have the best when it is impossible for you to state a logical understanding of it. Then, I wonder, how long should transitions be? 6 years? 

I suspect that somewhere between the rose, my black notebook, the pair of red slippers and the mountain range is an answer.

Breaking Through Forgiveness

The other day, I read about the former president's arrest, and I could not stop myself from pitying her. Then, came the shame of this involuntary emotion, reminding myself of how she had robbed the country for a decade.
I don't know if I should be thankful for the reflection that followed after what I felt about her being served the warrant. I just thought that maybe they should have waited a little longer or till she got better. "For Christ's sakes, she can barely move!"
But that had been long overdue. I waited years for her to pay for what she had done, for insulting my capacity to think, for thinking she could get away with anything, for making me realize that if it isn't about me not being able to do anything, it is about me being lazy to do something.
I am not really sure whether humanity should still be considered at this point. If I look at the abuses that she had done, my anger awakens.
I just thought that there could be something about my instinctual pity for her (perhaps, a very Filipino attitude?). I know she does not deserve mercy. I know that she had committed all these deceptions with full knowledge of what she was sacrificing and disregarding. However, how could I still feel sorry for her, catching myself silently telling everyone, "Let her get well!"

Justice over humanity is more of the rational choice here. Compared to everything that she had wrought while in power, where she is right now is merely an inconvenience.
I must never forget that.

Clothes line

It's as simple as taking a strand of hair from the keyboard.
It should not be more complicated than that.
To be able to choose what to do, to know what to be done next and to discover what matters to be discovered should be simple. There should neither be any fear nor apprehensions. There should only be a series of steps forward leading to an envisioned end.

It sometimes takes so long to know where to go. The destination is something always difficult to decide on. There are a lot of things to consider: is this place going to be cramped, is it going to be windy, will there be parties, will I be able to find a place to stay for three nights, will the bed be soft enough...
Things become blurry, and every day is an endless barking of dogs, and the weather flitting from sunny to cloudy. Then you worry if the clothes you hang will dry. There is always the gray or black or if people will notice the white.

She longs for simplicity. She longs for the joy of knowing that each minute leads her closer to a goal.
I long for the victories of doing things better than I thought I could, better than what has been set.

It is really as simple as knowing what should be desired.

Meanwhile, a blue dragonfly settles on the clothes line outside, and the sky seems to decide between rain or sun.