12:54 PM Sunday Inky black sky illuminated by a great fire in one area in Manila 27 ˚C⎜ ˚F Precipitation: 10% Humidity: 77% Wind: 0 km/h And the city with a foreign new monsoon Licks everything with its tongue With souls like phantoms Haunting the streets Burdened with feelings With hands in their pockets Or with their eyes empty The night gives in Corrodes into history Little emotions evaporating Condensing into dews Off to the urban sewerage Hoping for absolution Maybe a vindication As it flows into the feet A froth for a blanket Into the navel and bed Of an ocean somewhere.
Once, I was on my way home from a very long day at work walking to the train station. And I was thinking maybe I needed a trip,
to take a chance and just go somewhere that is completely beyond my comfort
zone, beyond my plans, and my usually programmed itinerary in life. I should
maybe pack light, armed with just some few bills and my passport, and two
books. Life can be easy and spontaneous.
As I was thinking about that, I realized that I was already
on the platform of the station. And I looked up and saw from the digital
schedule board that the next train is arriving in the next five minutes.
I spent that good five minutes watching people starting to
build up on the platform. Some were old, some young, some were chatting, and
some were quiet and distant but everyone looked tired. I checked my watch and
it was almost 10PM.
“What’s the time?”
Beside me was a man of about late 20s. He was wearing a wool
trench, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck, and the February frost made his cheeks
“What’s the time?” He asked again smiling.
“It’s five minutes before ten,” I said.
He remained quiet beside me after that, his hands in his
pockets. And in my mind I was imagining that I was talking to him. Asking him
where he’s headed, and what sort of beer he drinks in a pub on a Friday
night.It was quiet but I can hear the
want to break that silence. But just as I was about to say a word to him, the
headlights of a train shone on the tracks and people started backing off from
the platform. It wasn’t my train yet but the gentleman beside me moved closer
to the platform. And as the train was losing its momentum and about to stop, he
turned to me and said,
“Are you coming?”
A question I wasn’t prepared to hear and so to which I
“It’s not my train yet unfortunately.”
He replied with a smile and he went on to proceed and
stepped inside the train. He stood right in front of me where I was standing. A
thin glass separated us, some sheets of metal, which we call a mechanical door.
The train is going opposite my destination. Should I just
step in and be spontaneous? Or should I stay and wait for my train, head home,
cook soup, smoke some cigarettes, set the alarm at 6am and sleep?
“Have a good night.” I said.
Doors closed, the train started to move and I saw him tilt
his head to look at me one last time. And then all I saw was a blur of a train
being swallowed into the tunnel.
I felt the air, moist and static, the same feeling you get
before the snow falls.
I’ve been to Tokyo and London and one thing I noticed is the
efficiency of their public transportation system. The trains in Tokyo and the
buses in London always arrive and leave on time. I guess people are like that.
They arrive in a specific moment in our lives and then eventually after staying
for some time, they had to leave. So we always have to appreciate them, and
tell them what we feel. Because love, love is like a train or a bus that would
open its doors to you waiting for you to step in. So if you love someone, tell
the person right at that moment because love is that cruel bus or train
operator that’s always on a schedule, they’d shut the door right on your face
if you fail to step inside.
Suppose you kept going another 18 billion light years, what if there's nothing out there? Suppose you kept going another trillion times further, so far out you see nothing. The light from the universe would be fainter than the faintest star. Infinitely cold. Infinitely dark. Sometimes if I wake up and it's dark, I get really scared, like I'm out there and I'm never coming back.
Here, hold onto this when you sleep. And if you wake up and you're scared, you'll say, 'Wait a minute. I'm holding Eric's shoe. Why the hell would I be holding some smelly basketball shoe a trillion light years from the universe? I must be here on earth, safe in my sleeping bag, and Eric must be close by.
Wind: 11 km/h
- Choose a person you see frequently, not too often but approximately once a week or once a month.
- Every time you meet the person you press your two pointing fingers firmly against your eyes for ten to twenty seconds until various colors and patterns arise.
-Try to note and memorize the patterns and colors in connection with the context and repeat the practice every time you meet the person for as long as possible minimum of six months.
- After a minimum of six months of this practice you can recall the person, virtually by pressing your eyes for a while. In the midst of colors and patterns a sense of presence of that person arrives even if the person is not there.