Skip to main content

Hammock

adsa


I saw an acquaintance of mine on today's newspaper. He's part of a model search sponsored by a large supermarket chain. The ad said that, upon P500 worth of purchases, you are entitled to a ballot to vote for the face which you think best represents the youth today. Never mind the absurdity of a supermarket choosing models of the youth; what was more important for me was that this acquaintance of mine, at least from what it seems, has recovered.

Recovered from what? From a drug addiction. I met him when he was at his worst. He had been in and out of rehab at that time, and to make matters more complicated--as if they were not already so--he also had an anger management problem. (The people I meet, huh?) A little younger than me, shot through and through with mestizo features, tall as a basketball player, a gentle giant and fun-loving, no one would think that there would be trouble in paradise. Though, as it was expected from being mere smoking buddies, I did not inquire as to his problems and how he got into such a tight fix and neither did he ask me about mine.

But I do remember seeing him display his problems with anger. Hell hath no fury like a man with anger management problems. Everyone just stays clear from him, letting the wave froth and gain height and strength; what is important is not to drown in it but to swim away. Then after the storm passes, all is clear as daylight. He smiles. And of course, I smile back--and invite him for a smoke.

What I do remember clearly about the good-hearted guy was that he had one ambition and hobby at that time. He made hammocks with his bare hands. And he was looking for ways to sell it. So I told him that the business our family is in can easily provide him with avenues to sell his creations; and that I will personally see to it that he gets a discount. He welcomed the idea with such glee and told me that the first thing he will do after he gets out of rehab is to make me a hammock. Free of charge.

Well, the hammock did not come. But it does not matter. A few days ago he sent a text message to me asking that I vote for him in the supermarket-run model search. I have yet to respond to him because I was not sure if it was him who sent the message. But after seeing him today in the newspaper add, now clean-cut and looking at the top of his game, I told him that I'd vote for him and that I was still waiting for my hammock.

asas

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Fields of Amorsolo

The first National Artist in Philippine history, referred to warmly as the “Grand Old Man of Philippine Art,” Fernando Amorsolo (1892–1972) still stands today as a looming figure in Philippine art responsible for being one of the artists who helped define what we up to now visually imagine as essentially Filipino. The images of rural life, of golden fields below clear blue, blue skies; the smiles of farmers which diminish their weariness as they plant, harvest, and winnow rice;most especially the iconic figure of the Filipina maiden working in the fields—the beloved dalagang bukid--; these, I believe, even after generations of Filipino painters since Amorsolo, have remained in our hearts and memory. Amorsolo did what great masters do for their country: bestow upon it its own icons, represent its native beauty, that is, to give its people and lands an identity and a face. There are, however, as many intentions for art as there are works of art. And these intentions will always remain in…

Without Why (The Rose) II

Lifetime is a child at play; moving pieces in a game.
Kingship belongs to the child.

Heraclitus, Fragment 52


The child at play never asks itself why it plays. The child just plays; and if it could, it will play as long as possible, it will play throughout its life. See its delight and witness its smile.

If it would never go hungry or if the sun would never set it too will never leave its playmates and playthings. Time flies at play because it stops or suspends time. Time -- as we grownups only know too well -- is the culprit for order, schedules and priorities; yet for the child, there is no time, there is only bottomless play. It is we who impose that this or that should be done at this or that time. We stop the absurd and supposedly endless play ("He does nothing but play") because we insist that discipline, order and priorities be instilled in the child at an early age ("He needs to learn other things beside playing"). So that the child will become like us one da…

A Love Sooner than Later

BROWN PENNY William Butler YeatsI whispered, 'I am too young,' And then, 'I am old enough'; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. 'Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair.' Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair. O love is the crooked thing, There is nobody wise enough To find out all that is in it, For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon. Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, One cannot begin it too soon.

*
One cannot begin to love too soon--conversely, one should not love too late or in life's demise. That waiting for the "right time," or the "right person" to love, what are these but the cries or sighs of an unready, even tired, heart? One becomes ready only when one begins to understand love slowly (or again), and one understands love progressively when one, simply, performs the act of love. Love, like mos…