13 February 2017

timing (is) of the essence(s)

Just a quick one before I turn in. Yes, it's already 2.04am in my universe, and I just ate a fourth of a wedge of camembert cheese, washed down with water, followed by my cough meds and my trusty pei pa koa syrup. I think I'm ready to face the world again, universe. At least the three-day lecture facing me come Tuesday in faraway south again. Like south of Manila, that is. Things are slowly falling into place, and I'm finding myself in the thick of things again, but this time, being careful not to be too engulfed or swamped. Trying being the operative word here. 

Typing this as my sweetheart slumbers away in her bed, and I type in my desk here in her place. I've forgotten how quiet it can get, these private gated subdivisions, that I find myself amused at the sound of crickets reverberating outside the window. There's a different kind of quiet when I'm in my place at night, same time as this, but more than five floors up. It's a quiet that's more spacious, whereas this type of quiet here is more, shall I say, earthy. Perhaps it's because of my proximity to the earth, yes, but it's also about feeling the quiet as it envelops us from the ground up. Yes, it's that kind of quiet.

My soul is also being quieted lately, save for a few shakes of the mind here and there. As I age, I learn how to control them more, these shakes, but there are just times when the ground feels like opening up and wanting to swallow you. The operative word here being "feels like." But before it gets monumental like that, I find myself getting a hold on things, quickly, even before I realize I am already in control. And I think that is a good thing, so I just let that be.

What I need to stop is this penchant of mine to have conversations in my mind, conversations that I wish I could have had or I wish I could have in the future with certain people or certain populations, something like that. Perhaps it's the literary writer in me that does that, forming fictitious scenarios where there is none, or perhaps it's the scriptwriter in me, the one who they say is good at crafting cinematic dialogues for delivery. Maybe, perhaps, but seriously, I'd really want to stop formulating these conversations in my head, these would-be talks or could-have-been thoughts relayed to a soul living or dead. I wonder why it's strong these past few weeks since the start of the year, these mind convos that I have. Maybe it's time to once again sit myself down and talk to myself sincerely, to sort a few things out. Maybe open-ended severed strings are making me do this. Maybe a few wishful thinking points engage them as well. Or maybe it's just time for me to accept certain limitations in certain parts of me or my life. Maybe it's just that. Knowing is one thing, but enacting is another. And that's the next step that needs to be done.

I'm in a good place right now, honestly speaking. It's getting better, actually. And I'm ever so grateful to the universe about this. So I listen anew for new clues. Maybe there are a few tunes I need to revisit, or new tunes I need to hum. Let's see. And feel.

Time to join my sweetie. Goodnight world. Don't let the thought bugs bite. Hard.

Find your balance. Always.

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