Day 26 to Day 29: While Waiting For Waves

So there's been a lull around here and I only have myself to blame! I've been swamped with work, both online and offline, and I've also been left to deal with a terrible blue bottle jellyfish sting that left my arm swelling for a couple of days. It's all good in the 'hood now, and so let me proceed with peppering you with updates!


26/100 → I like how fellow reverse-migrants (those who have moved out of Manila to live here, or elsewhere) have helped me rediscover Walden. We read Thoreau in school but it is only now that we can pick up this book, open to anywhere, nod our heads slowly at first, then more vigorously as thought travels, at every phrase or line that we could latch on. 

Today, I pocketed these:

- When talking about why he moved out of the home he built in the woods, Thoreau says "Perhaps it seemed to me then that I had several more lives to live." And I wonder about the next lives, the next homes, but until then, life is here. And it seems to me now that there is no other place for it than here. 

- And when I feel a little wave-sick from not surfing, I remind myself that the simplicity of life is already a reward. "In proportion, as man simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness."


27/100 → You know how it goes: some of the people you're used to seeing disappear when the waves don't come. Afternoons seem longer, days hotter, moods snappier even if you don't admit it. And it goes on like this until you settle into a steady, surf-less routine. Boards are kept. Wax removed. Leashes hung until-- it's time. One day, you wake up early to walk to the beach break and you're seeing something from afar-- white water?-- and you listen for signs in the air-- was that a wave? So you quicken your pace until you're finally running, heart skipping, and you throw your hands open to embrace the sight of your beach break roaring back to life. It is finally time. And you turn around to see these familiar faces, the people you've missed are here again, and you all smile and let out sighs of relief. Because they're back, they're here, they're finally here. 


28/100 → We always say you're such a lucky dog. You eat good food, you get unlimited belly rubs, you have an electric fan all to yourself. You're such a lucky dog because we spend nights combing through your fur to keep you tick-free, and we teach you tricks, give you vitamins, and walk you to the beach even if you hate the sight of white water. But you love all the sea dogs, and they all jump and roll and wag their tails for you. Everyone you meet falls in love with you a little and you live every day like this: a routine of happiness. And for that-- Nica, you good girl you-- you've made us the lucky ones.


29/100 → Today, the sun must have set fifteen minutes before seven p.m. and it remained bright for so long that, for a moment, I thought it was going to be the 12th of May forever. Of all days! Such a drag of a day: too hot, too flat, too much of nothing much and everything else all at once. But some moments before sunset, I decided to walk to the shop instead of taking a jeepney and I came across this familiar bend. Oh, to be greeted by all these colors! Like leaves, my worries fluttered away with the wind, and I remembered that just choosing to be happy, daily, didn't have to be so difficult. ♡

Camille PilarComment