it was mystical the day we met. ridiculous! but in such a strange distance there is our minds could both be thinking the same way because there was understanding so instantly. I believe when we met there could have been clouds wrapping on to both of us!
it was romantic the day we met. fascinating! but in a rather strange horizon that is our hearts could be beating at the same rate because shower of affection came our way. I believe when we met there could have been stars flickering on both of us!
It was mysterious the day we met. Unknowingly revealing the sense of all of these. Our souls could be soaring up high steadily finding a way for both of us to come byway.
And when I do, I really want to sing. Please sing with me this very special song. A song I would always want to hear. In exaggeration, I will be in a state of trance if serenaded by this.
YOUR SONG by Elton John.
Here is a little history of my relationship with this song. I loved this when I first heard it in elementary. I really think that the lyrics and music are so perfect together. I started playing it on the guitar when I was in high school. It was only when I lived here in Davao when I gathered much confidence in singing it. My neighbors hear me belt out this song especially when I feel so lonely. Well, nobody really complained (among my neighbors) so I thought I gave justice to the song.
The very first time I sang it in front of a big crowd was in year 2000 when I was a faculty member at the San Pedro College in Davao City. My very best friend Ryan Enginco endlessly sang that song with me during the rehearsals. Ryan plays the piano and sings very well too. He is one of the youngest faculty members in San Pedro and I am mighty glad that in my lifetime, I met him.Had immeasurable clean fun with him.
The lyrics goes like this:
It's a little bit funny this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show I know it's not much but it's the best I can do My gift is my song and this one's for you
And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind that I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song It's for people like you that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting but these things I do You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen
Saying the word "sorry" is supportive to our psychological make-up. It is sometimes difficult but feels good to say it especially during times when you think you were wronged by the other person/s. Because it is during these tough moments when you define yourself as being human. Truly a humbling experience when we get to the point of deciding and appreciating the relationship than the pride in us. Mean it and it can be truly unburdening us of lots of baggage.
That is of course unsolicited, but I have the urge of sharing that "attitude" because I came from a family whom everyone I know of - thinks that they are always right. If you think otherwise, then you are wrong. That means no "ifs" and "buts". Tough when I was younger but now, I just shrug -off my shoulders and find it just "hilarious".
She's faced the hardest times you could imagine, And many times her eyes fought back the tears. And when her youthful world was about to fall in Each time her slender shoulders bore the weight of all her fears, and her sorrow no one hears, still rings in midnight silence, in her ears...
Let her cry, for she's a Lady Let her dream, for she's a Child Let the rain fall down upon her She's a free and gentle flower, growing wild.
And if by chance, I should hold her, Let me hold her for a time; But if allowed just one posession, I would pick her from the garden, to be mine.
Be careful how you touch her, for she will waken; and sleep's the only freedom that she knows. And when you walk into her eyes, you won't believe; The way she's always payin' for a debt she never owed, and the silent wind still blows, that only she can hear, And so, she goes.
Let her cry, for she's a Lady Let her dream, for she's a Child Let the rain fall down upon her...
Note: One of my most favorite songs. Please let me just stay there with my pigeons and the flowers (up there in the photo). I am feeling kinda heavy- hearted today. And this song might just help me swing back my thoughts to a rational manner.
The first time I felt the urge of running away from our house was - when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I actually did (ran away). And succeeded. I just got a gut feeling then that "I will not be harmed". And anyone who should notice me walking all alone, will bring me to where I want to go - to my grandmothers' house.
Of course, it happened according to my innocent plan because my father is popular in our place and I heard many people in the island say that "I do look like him".
Well, I came from the central part of the island town and our house is located on top of a hill. My grandmothers live near the sea. A few steps from their house will bring me to the sand, rocks and sea. And from the beach, one will see a picturesque site of the quiet and solemn town cemetery, set above the big mountain rocks and trees of green. One will have a mixed eerie and relaxed feeling upon seeing it. When I get tired of forever wading and swimming , I sit still on top of a rock and glance towards that direction . Now that I am an adult, I consider those as my very first human experiences of reflection and feelings of tranquility. And I do not get that from our house on a hill.
My home with my grandmothers, gave me not only the sand, rocks and sea but the feeling of what I can describe now as being untroubled, warm and free.
Untroubled because my 2 grandmothers (both spinsters) dote on me too much. I do not remember getting afraid and hungry when I am with them. They live on their own and without a man to protect them. I think, I got that strength from them. Even when they were both busy from the moment they woke up until it is time to retire at night, I felt taken cared of. Mamay Cilay who is a dressmaker and very good in crocheting was always talking to me even if her feet were busy shifting the pedals of her sewing machine. Her hands were never vacant with something to do ( from the threads she crochets to the rosary beads she moves when at prayer). Mamay Ninang is also very talkative. She cooks the best native delicacies for me to eat and the rest she sells. Even when I do not understand what they were talking about before ( but I suspect now that those could be about our neighbors and relatives har har har) I knew there is much sense to what they were saying. I also seldom hear them say something about men.
I think, they are women who knows what they want from life. One is for them not to have husbands and the second, is just to live their lives accordingly and simply. Did I hear them complain? I cannot remember, they just work and give.
Both are loving and caring. Mamay Cilay is the disciplinarian. She works hard so she hates it when you leave your plate with any leftover (not even a grain of rice). It should be clean. I remember making her laugh oftentimes and making her angry also when I come home late (from the nearby beach). But she is sick with asthma, that is why she does not want me to sleep beside her. But I sometimes sneak on her bed and she wakes up surprised having me beside her. She died when I was in high school. That was terrible because she was buried a day before we came. I am closer to Mamay Ninang because she is more tolerant of me and she was more expressive physically as in, she kisses and hugs me a lot. At night, I should sleep with my head not on my pillows, but on her arms. And I wake up in the morning still that way! That is amazing! She took care of me and my children until she died right here in my house at the age of 88.
My grandmothers were never educated. During their time, women were not given the chance to study the same way they would let the men in the family have it. Their brothers were all professionals but I have never seen them harbor grudges about it. My grandmothers came from a landed family but they never made a big issue on who grabbed their share of the properties. My grandmothers lived in this world with nothing and left also, with nothing.
But I give them all my reverence and the greatest of my love for being a part of the freedom I have now. They have given me more than wealth. Freedom - to express who I am in the face of rejection, fear, anger, pain and even pleasure.
A glance at the cemetery from the beach!
And I sigh with tears rolling down my face, "I should have given you more than what you gave me, my two Mamays!
Note:They became my grandmothers because their sister died after giving birth to my own mother. They took the responsibility of raising my mother and the rest of us.
My only follower (Joel) of this blog, outrageously asked me yesterday if the content of my "About Me" section is really a description of me. I did not seriously think about that comment but I thought it might be a pressing issue (har har har). So I guess, I have to write something about it here.
I think, I wrote that it was a close description of me and that could mean a hit or hint of who I am. And I might be right or wrong.
Well, Joel and I really never agreed easily on any aspect of this wonderful life. I mean "easily" because we always have to go through some gruelling discussions and disagreements before surrendering to the fact that we have to respect each others views. We have such a unique friendship and I do appreciate the fact that it lasted for so many years now.
I rarely have a best friend who is from the opposite sex. I say, he is the only one (the rest became lovers har har har) so I think I have to give credit to what ever he says about me. But it does not mean that I have to fancy it. Anyway at my age, I have learned to welcome any comments and if it is coming from a friend I should think that it is not too harmful.
I also firmly believe that friends should not always be agreeable to one another. Or the relationship will never ever grow to a more matured level.
It is alright with me if he perceives me differently. I also do with myself.
it was mystical the day we met.
