Day 77 to Day 79: Snippets From Samar

Photo by Kim Liggayu.

Photo by Kim Liggayu.

I'm not quite done with writing about our recent trip to Guiuan, Eastern Samar, but to be frank, I don't know if I'll ever truly be done with Samar. I will never stop finding things to say about it because my life is still being transformed by it, even until now that I am on the other side of the coast, far away and comfortable. Nevertheless, here are my attempts at showing you what it was all like. I can only hope that one day you can go there and see what I mean for yourself. 


 

77/100 → It's huge out there. I'm surprised at how little I really know of surfing, and I'm even more surprised that the little that I do know can be enough. Enough not to get terribly hurt; and enough to come out of the water smiling. 

It's huge out there. This whole place is massive, and I can only hope to fit everything about it in my heart at once. Or else I'll have to grow a brand new heart,because nothing can ever feel the same after being in a place like this. Nothing will ever fit. Perspectives will change. Needs will shift. And only a vast and quiet understanding of love will remain.

Life is huge. You see it in what people lose. I know little of what it takes to build back homes and bring back hopes, but while I am here, I see that just being here can be enough. Enough to live another day; and enough to go to sleep smiling.

 
 

78/100 → "Sangkai" was what we called each other. I suppose it means friend. It means brother. It means my life is now an irrevocable part of your life, and wherever our weather-worn and hopeful souls may be, our home is your home. Your grief is our grief. And throughout this lifetime and the next, our happiness is one.

Salamat, mga sangkai. Ikinagagalak ko kayong makilala. Sa ating muling pagkikita, nawa'y masuklian namin ang walang kupas niyong kabaitan! Iba kayo, mga master. Mga tunay. Salamat. Salamat. ♡

 

79/100 → There are days when I just want to be done with social media. It sounds silly coming from someone with an online writing project, but I must admit that this is one of the things I feel because of it. Posting according to all that I know to be true has taught me the value of posting less. It almost feels analog: the deliberate delay between days of non-creativity and the discipline in letting time sift through what ought to be shared and what can be kept to myself. This is a retreat. A 100-page love letter. A return to quieter times where there is no lingering guilt if I don't take a picture of the sunrise or sunset, but there is pulse and purpose when I do.

 
Camille PilarComment