I woke up one peaceful Sunday morning on our Batangas Villa, and face the outside world through my window. On both sides of me are two sliding Vigan panes, complete with Capiz shells and strewn wood and all, an in front of me is a view of a vast green rice field illuminated by the sun's early morning ray, complete with trees and old nipa huts in the distance and grazing cows and goats, while I sipped the hot, thick cocoa milk from the thick, transparent glass. Then I told myself, “This is the life. I love this. Honestly.”
And then in a split second, I'm back to reality.
I was transported back to the MRT train going to Ortigas, facing the thick plastic windows showing the Quezon Avenue skyline flooded by skylights and urban signs and advertisements. Reminiscing is over. I know, I won't be in that Batangas Villa forever.
Impermanence is God. It's the Rule. It's the Constant. Nothing stands still. Everything comes to pass.
Just a year ago I lost a brother, trusted ally, and best friend. After months of grueling battle to cancer, he decided it's time to go, though I wouldn't like to think he lost to it. His body might have been succumbed to it, but his spirit is as tough as ever. But there he goes. He went on. Though we thought we will grow old drinking beer with large guts and fathering sons and wear eye-glasses altogether. It didn't happen.
Impermanence.
And a few weeks I know someone who was recently betrayed by her friend (for money), which is also her confidant and her ally. And she felt bad about. Cursing fate and asking the heavens why this is supposed to happen. Anyway. She completely lost a friend. A good one.
Impermanence.
And just this year, a loved one sailed away from me. At this point, I never know why did she do that. Why would she do that. Up to now, I'm still running away from pain. From scars. From mortal wounds.
Impermanence.
All of us, at some point, lost something in our lives. A trusted friend. A love one. A relative. A high-paying job. Money. Family. Faith. .An opportunity. A nice house. A chance to fix things. A good gadget. An enemy. A hard earned prize. Time. Health. Happiness. Salvation. Something we pursue. A victory. An endeavor. Hope. Ideals. ideas. Principles. Dreams. Anything of value. Anything we value.
More than six years ago I dreamed of becoming a Journalist. I dreamed of writing and composing and editing so that the world may have something sensible to read. I dreamed of walking into the office as one of the pillars that upholds whatever this democracy believes to be true and supreme. I dreamed of seeing my name glaring under one socio-politically relevant article. Galvanizing public opinion. Swaying beliefs. Provoking ideas that had long been settled either due to political complacency or social apathy. Starting chaos so that it can breed life because order had given birth to habit. To shake the world so that mountains may move.
But the times are a-changing. If you'll ask Bob Dylan (and if you ever knew who Bob Dylan is), he wouldn't say anything different. Sometimes we have to give up our dreams because the world doesn't need it anymore. Or at least, our world doesn't need it anymore. Time never stood still, its ever-changing landscape shifts, folds, bends, and cracks. And as slaves of time, we too have to change, vary, adapt, adjust, and survive.
I walk into the Floor on ungodly hours, sit on my station, and face my flat screen monitor, which will be my window to a world 8,000 miles away. There, my life will begin. Not the one I dreamed of six years ago. Probably, in the next six years to come, I'll have entirely different office again. An entirely different dream. An entirely different life.
Impermanence is God.
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