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by Arnold De Villa
September 16, 2011
You know the routine. The alarm clock yells its strident noise in the midst of our REM. Our furry friend commences his morning yodel. Calendar gizmos start to pop, a quick munch of bread, a boiling cup of coffee, and then we zoom past the yellow lights with a quick jerk on the brakes as we trail the long queue of fellow zombies passing through the frenzy we call life.
In less than an hour I will have to come up with something borrowed, something smart, something funny, something controversial, or something totally useless. I normally opine about a current political stint, comment on immigration policies, discuss philosophical tenets, or simply play with sophistry, using words that are more euphonic than symbolic. Nonetheless, readers read and followers succumb. For that reason, I somewhat feel obliged to write. Yet on the other hand, I also write out of gratitude, an endless sense of appreciation to the publishers for the patience they gave back in lieu of my procrastination.
You know the regrets – we dilly dally appearing busy, or truly busy until the later becomes tomorrow and tomorrow becomes today. Faster than the wink of a catnap, today aged to yesterday and then tomorrow became too late. We then mutter the “would have’s” and “the should have’s” and the “could have’s”; only to realize that we have not done what we needed to do to the point and we never had what we truly desired to have. For those of us who have reached the mid-century benchmark, we sometimes think that we are doomed. Whoever coined the mid-life crisis must truly be someone who was trapped in a fork.
For a change, let me reveal that I have long left the financial and insurance industry that I have endured for more than ten years. This economy has indeed filtered the fittest from the happy and left so many in utter misery. I am now in the health care industry, finishing my studies to join the dominant sector of Filipino Americans in their endeavor to take care of the sick and perhaps to spend time with the elderly. It entails assiduous study, consistent practice and myriad self-reflecting questions. I already had my share of failures and I am not done yet. Sure, I did ask the same questions: why now and why this? Although I hate to admit it, just like so many, I would not be truthful if I denied the “I am here for the money” cliché”. And that is what made me struggle. It was a very defeating attitude. My transition was rough.
No, I will never say that “money” is a trivial pursuit. In fact, if I could preach abundance and wealth even among the unemployed, I would. But obviously if I did that, I could be stoned to death. And my life would truly be contained in a nutshell, more than ten feet below the horizon.
We sometimes wonder (except perhaps among those who have it done): is this all that life has to offer? Fifty years of struggle, raising kids, swimming through the flow, and then waking up to discover that we still have a hundred more births to pass through. Yes, many more births. Without allusions to religion, we all need to be born. We all need to start each day as if it were the last day of our lives or the beginning of the rest. We all need to realize that perhaps the greatest blessing we have is the curse of our mortality, the fact that we cannot live forever, the mandate that we need to make the most.
Ah, life in a nutshell! If it had a face, I would look at it straight in the eye to scold it for its mystery, to complain about its bliss and despondency, and also to applaud it for the tiny specks of joy that it allowed to some tired and weary soul. If life had a face, I would stare at it and try to look for the puzzle that was me. For life, your life, and mine is nothing else but the summation of our collective identities, the totality of our individual lives. You are here because we are in the same token that I am because she is. As letters collide in words, our hearts fuse with the larger society of human critters of losers and winners. In the process of doing so, we discover the beauty of simplicity, the profundity of our routines and the meaning of our existence.
Yes, I know, I sometimes sound like a self-proclaimed motivational speaker. There is a huge difference though; so many of them are opulent and really successful while so many like me are almost like paupers. Nonetheless, since we survived, I could probably assume that we are not quitters. I could probably surmise that we could somewhat be poster faces as the greatest wannabes who are still alive. In between losers and winners, we should not forget that there is still large sector of those who have not yet been officially proclaimed as “losers” and those that have not yet obtained the rank of “winners”. They are still in a nutshell, trying to break through the tough covering that surrounds their limited biology.
Time is up. Really? We need an extension. We all do, that is because we have deceived ourselves of being like Peter Pan. And then we become inclusive, finding sympathy among those who are like ourselves, not being able to accept the most constructive criticism from those who have the right to talk from experience.
Hopefully, in less than a year, God willing, and if I did everything right, I will start writing about my new adventures. I will have more sympathy and understanding towards those who are suffering from a disorder. I will be able to feel and live within the dynamics of those who were called to care.
Until them, please be patient. I hope these rumbled thoughts have provided you with useful insight. And as I end, thank you very much!