Important things-A A +A
Saturday, September 7, 2013
IF YOU are reading this, let me say hello for the first time, dear reader.
You see, when we first met, I came to you from the past, in words drawn from very personal experiences, about things and thoughts I never knew would see print.
I gave them all in bulk, to help a friend who said she needed my words.
Before I knew it, my cache of articles for printing had been emptied, and I’m thinking maybe I should stop writing about pigs who can talk, and peeling oranges, or diaries of astronauts, or frisbees.
Maybe, I should talk about really important things, like the two houses of the government, the infernal pork barrel, the peace situation here in Cagayan de Oro, or how the new mayor should run the city and how President Ninoy should govern the nation, and many other things that are, you know, really important stuff.
Meanwhile, I am home and it’s a Sunday. Perhaps, it was the thought of the state of our nation that suddenly got me up from my bed, and started me going around the house wielding a duster, a broom, and a mop.
It happens once in a fortunate while, this sudden burst of general cleaning energy, when I do everything I had been planning to so that my home will once again be in order.
I usually play music to take my mind off this chore. But this Sunday, I chose not to.
At first, I preferred the silence because I wanted to think about what to write.
But as I swept out a week’s worth of dust, and laved the floor like I was going to sleep on it, I found myself beginning to listen to the silence, loving the sense of peace it gave me.
It soon felt like I was dancing, as I weeded unneeded clothes from my closet, and dusted the blue wall clock given by a friend who knows my favorite color, a stitched image of colorful fish which was also a gift, a single leaf in its box, remembrance of a special trip.
All the while, I was thinking about what to write.
But all I knew was the wonderful sense of voila after my home was finally all spic and spanny, the touch of smooth, cool water and rough granules of rice on my hands as I prepared my meal, the chirping of a bird or two outside and the silences in between, strips of sunshine through the screen door, the white clouds against the blue of sky through billowing curtains, the glimpse of green-gold leaves on treetops.
I suddenly recalled that I wrote my first poem on a Sunday such as this, when the world felt like it had just been born.
Dear reader, you must think I am writing about myself, but I feel I am writing about you and even our nation, and all of our quiet Sundays, when we get to do what we love to do, and dwell on the things that matter to us, and do the housecleaning we all must do sometimes, and our striving for peace always.
Sometimes I think that all the trouble we are having – the peace problem here in Mindanao, the hullabaloo over the pork barrel which really ought to be emptied for the people already, the Senate spending so much time and the people’s money debating over problems the Senate itself have created – all stem from our forgetting what really matters, from neglecting to clean up our inner houses, and from not knowing how to find the living silence of Sundays.
Published in the Sun.Star Cagayan de Oro newspaper on September 07, 2013.