Look Up

When I was still chained to a computer 5 days a week, what made cubicle incarceration worthwhile is facing a blank Wordpress blog template and filling it up with my thoughts. Sometimes they come tumbling out by themselves in an outpouring of joy or angst or fear or gratitude. Often, I find myself groping for words, struggling to make them flow just so, carefully putting them together then deleting everything and starting all over again. And again.

There are times though when I just can’t think of anything to post. When writer’s block rears its ugly head, I go through my blog links hoping to be inspired by what my friends have posted.

Like this brilliant idea called Truth Thursdays which has been going on since May here. And this is my version:

My body is holding onto….

My body is holding onto the feel of kawayan slats and the thin mattress beneath my back and the way grass pokes through my clothes as I gazed at the starry night. My body wants to hold on to its former size but failed (no regerets). My ears are holding onto the sound of their laughter, cries, and sweet voices in harmony. My eyes hold onto their smiles, tears, exaggerated action songs and faces.

My body is holding onto that eureka moment when I first taught and shared and connected. I tightly hold onto 6 years of prayers and visions, dreams and revelations. My faith is holding onto the rock so that I can go against the flow.

I am holding onto the way you said my name.

My body is holding back….

My body is holding back my best for fear that even that is still not good enough. I’m holding back my heart because I don’t want it to get bruised and bleeding and broken. I’m holding back cruel words that I long to hurl like weapons because others will end up bruised and bleeding and broken.

My thoughts are held back because they may lead somewhere I do not want to be.  My body is holding back its excitement because this may just be too good to be true. My love is held back because goodbyes always come and hurt a lot.

I am holding back from missing you.

My worries for today…

Too much time and not enough money. Too many words and not enough deeds. Too much power and not enough responsibility. Too much emotions and not enough thoughts. Too many expectations and not enough guidance. Too much talent and not enough focus. Too much, too soon.

Adjustment and new beginnings. Flying cockroaches, broken zippers and missing keys. How comfort zones can come and go in the blink of an eye. Old cellphones with cracked screens and flash disks with Trojan horses. Martha syndrome and my tendency to go to either extreme. 

I worry that I may will leave you behind.

Today I carry…

The soft, squirmy, fragile bundle cradled her in my arms. Inhaled and held in the sweet scent of milk of newborn’s breath. I carried and rocked her until the soft wails turn into big-eyed silence as she gazed up at me. Today I carried the first of our family’s next generation. Today I carried the future.

Today I carry their stories in trust, names and details bound in silence for safety’s sake. Today I carry a piece of paper that tells me where I’ll be for the next semester. Today I carry their schedules with the understanding that we commit to come together and have fellowship. Today I carry the knowledge that in him all things are possible. Today I carry hope.

I carry you in my heart today and always.

And for a while at least, I carry this song:

As If We Never Said Goodbye
Andrew Lloyd Webber

Don’t know why I’m frightened
I know my way around here
The cardboard trees
The painted seas
The sound here
Yes, a world to rediscover
But I’m not in any hurry
And I need a moment