Rediscovering Eros
Wednesday, November 28, 2007“Eros does not exist!”
So exclaimed a friend of mine over e-mail. I was shocked. She was a beautiful, intelligent, and passionate fashionista with a cause who had access to many of life’s gifts and who probably held the key to many men’s hearts—how could she say that Eros does not exist??
She was seconded by good friend of ours—an award-winning poet, playwright, filmmaker, and creative genius who, in the pursuit of his One Muse here on Earth, has awoken all the other muses of the heavens and has probably swept them off their wings and into the harem of his mind.
I was shattered. How could my friends—these amazingly talented and passionate individuals—no longer believe in magic, in passion, in destiny, in all these wonderful things that make love maddening yet sobering, that make life chaotic yet serene? How could they turn their backs on the madness and embrace a life that is staid, bland, and… dead?
* * * * *
When I was much younger, I refused to believe in the concept of One Love, of that One Soul from whom our souls were separated and with whom we must reunite if we were to experience Real Love. I was cynical probably because I was the product of a broken marriage, and because I never saw in my parents an image of love that was acceptable to my sensibilities. For me, then, love was the product of attraction, commitment, devotion, dedication, and a lot of hard work. You didn’t just experience love; you had to earn it. (And maybe my parent’s just didn’t work hard enough.) During my freshman year in college, a friend of mine asked me which I preferred: a man whom I loved, or a man who loved me. I chose the latter, and I reasoned that anyone can learn to love anyone else—what matters is that the man loves the woman more than she loves him. (Where on earth I got that idea, I don’t know…) I couldn’t have been more wrong. My previous relationship was with someone who really, really, honest-to-goodness loved me (or so I thought). He wasn’t the guy on my wish list, but he just cared for me so much that it became easy for me to imagine that, maybe, I could learn to really love him back. He seemed to be the quintessential boy-next-door whom you could bring home to Mom, and so I did, trying to convince myself that he could be the guy for me. After four years of waiting for Certainty to turn up, however, I realized that I couldn’t be with someone whom I didn’t love as much as he loved me. You could stone me now for being such a bitch, but one of the things that told him when I said goodbye was that he was “the perfect little black dress that every girl sees from the store window and wants to bring home”, but that I realized that “that perfect little black dress just doesn’t fit me well”. You really shouldn’t just settle for someone when you know how much more you can give with someone else.
* * * * *
My relationship with Paul made me believe in Eros again. Our reunion was the product of a long string of coincidences and, in his words, “cosmic accidents” that were too intense and too real to be humanly contrived. We bumped into each other again, after seven years of neither seeing nor hearing from each other, at the right time and under the right circumstances; and we just knew from that first meeting-again that something was going to happen that would change our lives in ways we couldn’t even begin to imagine. We thought that it was already “freaky” that we shared the same birthday, that our fathers have the same first name, that our mothers were colleagues and friends during their PAL days, that we grew up in the same area, and that some of our friends and relatives moved in similar circles and were closely connected. What we didn’t see yet back then was that more things would happen to us in the next two years that will bind us even closer to each other, in ways that only God Himself could have orchestrated. A few nights ago, as we were driving home from a party, we were talking about relationships, and about what brought people together and what drove them apart. We discussed other relationships that we were privy to, and we agreed that you shouldn’t stay in a relationship that doesn’t feel deeply, organically right. You had to feel the certainty in every pore of your body, and this certainty had to come from and go right through your core. Otherwise, you’d be stuck in a shallow and lifeless relationship—and who would want that? As we were approaching home, I just had to ask the question that every girl is probably dying to ask her boyfriend, in the context of our conversation: “So, what about us?” “What do you mean, ‘what about us’?” “Do you think we have what it takes… to, you know… go the full stretch?” (Of course, I had to sugarcoat my question.) I was expecting him to sigh, take a few seconds or so to think, and maybe even say that he wasn’t sure. (He's a guy, after all.) But his response was as matter-of-factly for him as it was surprising for me. “Nines, I think we both know by now that we are intrinsically linked.” I couldn’t help but smile.
* * * * *
“Intrinsically linked.” There goes the idea of Socrates’ erotic love again—of one soul that was split into half and that goes through life searching for the Other. The idea that each person, each soul has a corresponding Other, and that there is someone made just for somebody else. (At least I think it could be attributed to Socrates, but I’m not really sure.) It’s funny because I feel it with Paul—I know that what we have is too real to dispute—but I still can’t bring myself to understand it. If there is exactly one person for everyone else in this world, then how do you explain all the failed relationships around us? Is it because people have been too impatient, and have settled for other partners, therefore barring themselves from meeting their True Soulmate? And, since there are now more women than men all over the world, does it mean that homosexuality is truly acceptable? (Of course, Socrates and his young pupils would certainly think so.) And what if you don’t ever find The One? What happens then? It’s a scary thought—going through life alone, or going through life without someone whom you truly, deeply, passionately love. Maybe that’s why so many of us are in a mad scramble to commit ourselves to someone even at the risk of being stuck with “the wrong person”. Life is too perplexing and exhilarating at the same time to go through on your own. But, then again, who can blame us? Finding “the right person” is such a tricky deal—and it’s often the product of chance or pure luck—that you’d really rather put yourself in a safe and secure place, than go out there and risk coming back with nothing. However, I am reminded of another good friend of mine—someone who has already recognized her One True Love and who is not willing to settle for anything less—who told me once: “Life is already filled with so much mediocrity, and love shouldn’t be one of them.” She’s right. If Eros means seeking for the truest, deepest, most perfect kind of love of which we are capable; if it means knowing what’s Real and what’s Right and fighting for the right to have it; if True Love means never giving up until we’ve found our home in the Other, then I think we owe it to ourselves to live it. (Written: May 2005)
There Is Hope After All
"There is only one thing that I'm going to ask of you," the young woman, a nursing student from Davao, said to the young man in front of her. "If possible, please let killing be your last, last, LAST resort."
The young man, a cadet from the Philippine Military Academy (PMA), looked up. His eyes said that he wanted to respond, but he chose to remain silent and listen instead.
The nursing student continued, "In my hometown, Christians and Muslims live together in peace. Even the military and NPA (New People's Army, a group of revolutionaries with communist ideals, whom the military is mandated to eliminate) live together peacefully. Please," her eyes shone with tears as she begged, "tell your superiors and everyone else in the military to stop the killing. There is no war."
Another young lady, a Muslim student from Marawi, spoke up. "I agree with her," came the assertive tone. "Do you know that, in our place, Christians and Muslims live together without any conflict? Sometimes it's the government who initiates the war, and then the peace is broken again." She goes on to relate that, one day, she and her family chanced upon a group of soldiers firing cannons up at the sky. When asked why the cannons were being fired, these military men laughed and said that they were just using up their extra supplies!
"But what goes up must come down!" The young Muslim cried. "What will happen if those cannons hit the innocent civilians living on the ground? Sorry na lang sila?"
"The problem with the military is that they send you guys off to Mindanao after graduation even without knowing what the situation there is," the nursing student continued empathically in her Hiligaynon-accented English. "If you only immersed yourselves in the area–as civilians, and not as military men–before you are brought there, then you would know what the real situation is."
"There is no war," she reiterated.
Finally, the young cadet spoke. "I don't know why those men were firing cannons up at the sky… But I do know that, sometimes, we make everyone else believe that there is no war, that the situation is under control, and that there is peace. We do not want civilians to live in fear of their lives. We want life for them to go on as normally as possible."
He continued, "Guys, this may be the last time that we will get to see each other. Who knows? I may die right after graduation–just like what happened to one of my upperclassmen who was sent to Mindanao shortly after he graduated… So let me tell you this: I will do my very best to keep the peace in this country so that you, Duchess (referring to the nursing student), can conduct your medical missions anywhere in the country; and that you, Kirby (referring to another young man in the group), can continue to work for the environment, and so that all of you can do what you are supposed to do.
"None of us will be able to achieve our goals in a country that doesn't have peace."
Exchanges like this are rare in this country–and many such discussions end in word wars (and even real wars) that seem to have been sparked by the pettiest things. Many of us are brought up to be fearful of what we don't know and of what we don't understand. When I was much younger, my yaya (nanny) would always threaten me with this every time I misbehaved: "Sige, i-baligya kita sa mga Moro! (I'll sell you to the Muslims!)" That was enough for me to shut up, tone down, and develop a fear of the big, bad Moro. Little did I know that, many years later, I would be enamored by the colors, costumes, and culture of the Filipino Muslims.
There's so much that we don't know, and even less that we understand. This is why it's important for us to open ourselves up and allow new information, new insights, and new experiences to enter our lives. At the recently concluded Ayala Young Leaders Congress (AYLC)–which is by far the most rigorous and prestigious annual search for the country's top student leaders–I saw how four days of interaction, learning, reflection, and open and honest discussion changed the lives of 71 of the country's emerging leaders. They were all student leaders, all big fish in their little ponds. They all came to the Congress with big dreams and somewhat big egos–after being filtered by the Congress' rigorous screening process, who wouldn't?–but they all left with an understanding that nobody has the monopoly over virtue, wisdom, wealth, or influence. Everyone is here for a reason, and we are all faced with the challenge to find common ground and build a single vision that's powerful enough to propel all of us to positive, productive action.
I've attended five AYLCs already–once as a delegate in 1999, and four times as a facilitator–and what was strikingly different about this Congress was that there was a sincere effort among all the delegates to acknowledge their differences and celebrate their diversity. It was because they were different that they were strong. Each person brought to the group his or her own strengths, talents, skills, and experiences; and it is through all of these that they will be able to contribute to a concerted and sustained effort to move the country forward. Whether they become soldiers, priests, farmers, professors, corporate executives, or artists doesn't matter. What matters is that they believe in the power of the Filipino.
At the unofficial closing ceremony of the Congress, AYLC 2005 created an oath that signified their commitment to stay united in spite of their diverse interests and to make a difference in their spheres of influence wherever they were. They recited this oath in different Filipino languages–Maranao, Bicolano, Pampango, Hiligaynon, Bisaya, Ilocano, Tagalog–each time cheering for their provinces and for their mother tongues. As I watched the delegates proudly owning and proclaiming their "Filipino-ness", I felt teary-eyed and immensely hopeful, thankful that young people today have a venue to learn more about each other and dispel their fears of the unknown. I am confident that a few years down the road, we will wake up to a freer, enlightened, and (perhaps) more prosperous society.
There is hope, after all.
Creating "Us Moments"
I was awakened at midnight by a light tapping on my window. Knowing that only one person had the habit of showing up at my doorstep at the oddest hours, I jumped up and hurried my unadorned little self out the door. I still had some leftover eyeliner on my eyelids, dark circles under my eyes, and just-got-out-of-bed hair, but the only thing I was thinking of at that time was, "How long had I kept him waiting outside the door?"
I opened the door excitedly, not really knowing what to expect from this man of many surprises, but nobody was there. A car was parked right smack in the middle of my driveway, however, and that told me that Paul was just hiding somewhere, waiting for me to step out. And so I stepped out of the door, bare feet and all, and after a few seconds of me calling out his name, Paul stepped out from behind his car with a large smile and a warm, Valentine's Day kiss.
He had been waiting outside our village gate for quite a while already, he said, but he wanted to surprise me by knocking on my door at exactly midnight today. It was only the first of his many Valentine's Day surprises for me, and it amazed me that this guy could still think of all these little things after all this time. The courtship had ended a long time ago, but the romance definitely hadn't.Ü
I am one lucky girl.
* * * * *
We were also lucky enough to get a very crisp DVD copy of Shall We Dance, which–of course–we had been reserving for today. As I watched Richard Gere sashay down the dance floor, tears flowing from my eyes, I thought about all the things that happen to us everyday that keep us from keeping the romance in our relationships alive. Work, meetings, chores, domestic matters, family squabbles, petty arguments, issues large and small… These all fill up our days and hardly leave any space for us to create intimate moments with our loved ones. So no matter how much time we spend with our beloved, and no matter how much money we blow on expensive gifts for each other, we still sometimes feel a loneliness that could only be cured by real "us moments"–moments when nothing else really matters except you and the life you have created together.
It often takes special occasions, such as today (Valentine's Day), for us to remember to carve out some time for those "us moments". But why not create "us moments" everyday? Like John Clark, Richard Gere's character in Shall We Dance, we shouldn't hesitate to dress up nicely and ask our beloved to dance (literally or figuratively) anytime, anywhere. After all, we never really know what tomorrow will bring. We shouldn't wait for the perfect opportunity to do something romantic, for that "perfect opportunity" may never arrive.
Ultimately, it's up to us to create magical moments in our lives. They can happen anytime, anywhere–whether you're loaded or broke, whether you have a minute or a week. Love changes in form and expression, but Romance should always be part of any love relationship.
For if you don't keep the romance alive and take your beloved dancing (literally or figurately), somebody else might.Ü
Happy heart day, everyone! Welcome to another year of Spoonful of Sugar.
Holding Hands
Sometimes we don’t need a helping hand—we just need a holding hand.
~ Nines and Paul
Everyone needs a holding hand, I think—not someone who can push you forward or pull you up when the going gets rough, but someone who can stay put with you even when you’re stuck in uncomfortable situations. Especially when you’re stuck in uncomfortable situations.
You know those days when it seems as if the whole world is against you and you just wanna shrivel up and die? That’s when you need someone to be there with you. Someone who can take the flak and the sh*t with you, someone who won’t run when you’re cornered in a dark alley, someone who’ll take Life’s punches and blows with you. Not someone who’d say, “Awww, baby, I know how you feel… here’s a hug”, but someone who still can’t speak because he got hit and bled just as much as you have.
I’m not saying that people shouldn’t do anything when they’re stuck in a rut, but sometimes there’s a value to just staying put and staying still. With each other.
There were so many times in our relationship when either of us got slapped in the face by Life and found it so embarrassing to be in front of the other. Naturally, we wanted to show only the best sides of ourselves to each other and just retell the painful stories as if they were parts of a distant—even comic—past. But there were moments when we’d just catch each other at that exact moment when Life hit us really hard and we just stumbled and fell. And we just stayed there, immobilized by the pain… shamed by the thought that the one you wanted to shield from all this was right there, witnessing everything in real time.
Sobrang dyahe.
It would’ve been so easy for either of us to just say, “I give up. This is too much for me to handle,” and just run as fast as we can to the opposite direction. Instead we chose to say, “If this is part of being with you and loving you, then I’m taking it.” Not because we’re martyrs and we love the idea of sacrificing ourselves for the other (yeesh….), but because we know that loving the other person means going through Life with them—whatever Life means.
Sometimes, it’s more bad than good. And there’s nothing much you can do.
Except to pray that something good happens soon. And to hold each other’s hand and cheer each other on.
* * * * *
What does it mean to hold hands? Well, it can mean several things.
Sometimes, it can mean just being there for the other person and hearing them out when they need a loving and patient ear. Having the same birthday and being made of pretty much the same stuff, Paul and I have this tendency to yak and whine about the same stuff over and over… and over. Now, if you were the other person and you also had something to whine about, it can get pretty tiresome listening to the other person going on and on like a broken record. But because we respect each other’s need to unload, we give each other that space to whine until we get tired and say, “Thanks for that. Now it’s your turn.” And the whining goes on. (You really just need to do it, sometimes.)
Other times, holding hands can mean resisting the urge to fix things for the other person and giving them enough space to make their own decisions at their own time. Sure, it’s nice to go into “solution mode” especially when you think that the answer is already staring you right at the face, but I’ve realized—especially most recently—that everyone has his or her rhythm for doing things, and there are some things, some decisions that you just can’t rush. Holding hands means not pulling someone up or pushing them forward, but just staying still with that person—no matter where you are, no matter what the circumstance, even if you’re already itching to move.
Holding hands in that way reflects how you respect each other’s individuality and how you trust each other to make good, sound decisions. Of course, it’s always good to ask for each other’s advice, especially when the decisions that have to be made will affect you both, but it’s also nice to just stand back and see how the other person moves. You discover much about the other person that way, and what you learn often amazes you.
“Holding hands” and giving each other space is also a sign of security and stability, at least in the context of our relationship. When we back off and just stay in the sidelines, it’s as if we’re saying, “I know my place in this relationship. I don’t own you… I know your love for me doesn’t depend on this one little thing in front of us… I can’t think for you, so go ahead and make your own decisions. I’ll be here for you no matter what happens after.” No you-should’ves, no if-you-had-onlys, just we’re-in-this-togethers. Even if you end up making a wrong turn after all.
* * * * *
I’m not sharing all these to be preachy or to brag about my super-fabulous relationship. Far from it. I think it’s because Paul and I have gone through a whole lot of hell together that we can now look back and come to these realizations about ourselves and our relationship. As I’ve said in the previous Spoonful, there’s nothing like adversity to bring people closer together.
A romantic relationship brings with it so many joys and pains, so many wonderful moments and unforgettable scenes. There are great days and duh-days, kisses and fights, laughter and tears. No matter what state we’re in, however, I think it’s important to remember something that someone once said: “When crossing the street (or going out into the world), stay close together and hold hands.” (Or something like that.)
May you find that one person to hold hands with, and may you sincerely enjoy holding hands.
(Written: July 12, 2004)
Going on a Family Diet
There’s nothing like adversity to bring family members closer to each other—or to help them lose a little weight.
Early this year, our family hit financial rock-bottom. A new business that my mom put up as part of her semi-retirement program went down after only two months of operations—but not because the business itself failed. There was some in-fighting among business partners, and they one by one decided to withdraw support for the company, leaving our family even more broke than before. One line I had read in a business book years ago resurfaced in my mind: “Never invest more than you can afford to lose.”
Well, we pretty much lost everything.
Stuck with a mountain of bills to pay, no car, and just each other for support, our family trudged on. We all learned how to take the tricycle, jeep, and bus to where it was that we were going, and I had to keep up with the demands of my clients without a phone or Internet access at home. I frequented Internet cafes, used the neighborhood pay phone for business calls, and tried to maintain a tight work schedule to finish everything before the malls and shops closed. To help me meet my deadlines (as I had become the sole breadwinner since then), my mom and brother spent the most part of the summer running errands for me—delivering letters, collecting checks, and so on. We became a lean and mean working machine, trying to salvage what we could of the family’s dignity and pride.
The tight budget helped us all lose a few pounds, too.
Mom lost the most—nine pounds—after a couple of months on a pretty lean diet: two pieces of toast and coffee for breakfast, vegetables and rice for lunch, and less than the usual amount of food (usually fish or pork) for dinner. I lost a few, too, but the stress and workload also kept me on a Coke-and-Nagaraya diet, offsetting whatever weight I would have lost because of the penny-pinching.
Some days, we would run on just P20 of cash, so I would ask the helper to buy kangkong and carrots from the neighborhood vegetable stall (for only P10!). Although I enjoyed the kangkong-and-carrot combination immensely, those instances made me feel really kawawa (pitiful), and made me question God. Don’t I deserve more than this?, I would find myself saying.
I would find God’s reply in the nightly after-dinner talks that my mom, brother, and I would have on the patio.
“Isn’t it amazing how much closer we’ve grown through this experience?”, Mom would often ask in amusement. We had been fighting for almost two years straight before this crisis hit us, but now we can’t really think of anything else than how to support each other through the tough times.
“And isn’t it amazing how much you’ve mellowed, Mom?”, my brother would follow up in jest. Mom had been notorious—since the dawn of time—for her “hyper-frankness” (tactlessness, more like it) and wild temper, and the people at Philippine Airlines had even given her the monicker “Mrs. Terror”. Yes, the crisis—and the golden years—have softened her tremendously. She hardly shouts or throws temper tantrums anymore.
This whole experience has softened me, too. It has made me less critical of my family’s mistakes, and more appreciative of their unflinching support. It has enabled me to re-establish my role as Mom’s Little Helper and my brother’s Big Sister, and it has also pushed me to work harder—with God pulling me up from above, of course.
(Really, there’s nothing like an external driving force, or a nightmare scenario, to motivate oneself.)
Even my relationship with Paul has strengthened through this experience, as he saw another side of me emerge. If he used to think of me as a naïve little girl that needed babysitting and protection, now he sees that I’m made of tougher stuff. He has seen me become a loyal and dutiful daughter, a tough and feisty woman—someone whom Life and adversity can’t put down that easily. He, too, has supported me with a lot of love, patience, understanding, and humor to ensure that I succeed in what I do and support my family.
(I blush when my mom calls him “My Son”, but I think it says a lot about how our family and the relationships among us have changed in recent months.)
Fitness experts were right in saying that group exercise does increase one’s motivation and ability to stick to a fitness program. Well, I’m treating this as God’s fitness program for our family—something to trim the fat and beef up the muscle. You should try it sometime. I think it works wonders.
(Written: July 3, 2004)
