No kidding, for the last 3 months, not a day passes without me coming across it- even on a Sunday! The universe really has a funny way of teaching me. Last time, the angry bird followed me to India. Now, this persistent visits by no less than the stinkiest of automobiles.
Even if I walk with my eyes closed, my nose can never ever ignore the smell of the humongous pile of junk dumped in a moving vehicle. Often, it greets me good morning as I walk home from my early morning meditation class. What makes it more of an ordeal is that I cannot ask for a restraining order from it or even negotiate that it skips my block. Sometimes in my mind I fathom, "Would you stop when I write about you?".
The Mind Game
Of course, I did not get any reply. And for the past quarter, I could not think of anything relevant to say about my newly found acquaintance- until of late. I realized that the old truck has been haunting me only to remind me of the rancid wasteful thoughts I have been heedlessly accumulating. You see, I had been battling with a disease which makes me feel weak and tired easily. I had to give up my Tagaytay weekends and football training (supervising mostly) for it. More so, I would feel so drained that I would have no energy to do anything else after a full workday (8am-5pm). For a hyperactive person who's used to juggling dozens of jobs (2-3), hobbies (2-infinity), and advocacies (2-3), it is a nightmare.
I've trained my mind to look at circumstances positively. There's always a gift after a storm, I frequently admonish. However, once in awhile the regrets and complaints come in. "I am too young to feel so old. I missed my usual 3-day weekends by the Taal ridge. I used to work hard and play hard."
Then the questions, "Why? Will I get my die-at-33 wish? How come this had to happen? Do I have to retire now?" Followed by more questions. "What will I do if I can no longer work? How will I be able to take care of myself? How can I prepare for the eventually of death?"
If left wandering, my mind either goes to I-used-to-be happy mode or what-will-happen-if speculations. The illness triggered the massive rush of waste thoughts. Looking back, more than anything, I felt that the barrage of negativity largely contributed to the tiredness I felt. It was too great, that I literally attracted the garbage truck to meet me daily.
I Dare You to Stop
Truth be told, what I have is a mere vitamin deficiency- nothing chronic really. The sad part is I allowed it to drag me into a pity-me charade, back to the past drama, and fortune-telling sessions.
This very moment, I say, "No more!" to ruminating about the past or the future. These ifs, what could haves, buts, and whys shall touch me no more. If I have to bid my life adieu then so be it. But, "I will not go gentle into that good night". As Dylan Thomas eloquently put it, "I shall rage, rage against the dying of the light." (Too melodramatic? I know.) So, from this day forward, I shall hold my precious precious time like the gold present it is. Goodbye dump truck!
Even if I walk with my eyes closed, my nose can never ever ignore the smell of the humongous pile of junk dumped in a moving vehicle. Often, it greets me good morning as I walk home from my early morning meditation class. What makes it more of an ordeal is that I cannot ask for a restraining order from it or even negotiate that it skips my block. Sometimes in my mind I fathom, "Would you stop when I write about you?".
The Mind Game
Of course, I did not get any reply. And for the past quarter, I could not think of anything relevant to say about my newly found acquaintance- until of late. I realized that the old truck has been haunting me only to remind me of the rancid wasteful thoughts I have been heedlessly accumulating. You see, I had been battling with a disease which makes me feel weak and tired easily. I had to give up my Tagaytay weekends and football training (supervising mostly) for it. More so, I would feel so drained that I would have no energy to do anything else after a full workday (8am-5pm). For a hyperactive person who's used to juggling dozens of jobs (2-3), hobbies (2-infinity), and advocacies (2-3), it is a nightmare.
I've trained my mind to look at circumstances positively. There's always a gift after a storm, I frequently admonish. However, once in awhile the regrets and complaints come in. "I am too young to feel so old. I missed my usual 3-day weekends by the Taal ridge. I used to work hard and play hard."
Then the questions, "Why? Will I get my die-at-33 wish? How come this had to happen? Do I have to retire now?" Followed by more questions. "What will I do if I can no longer work? How will I be able to take care of myself? How can I prepare for the eventually of death?"
If left wandering, my mind either goes to I-used-to-be happy mode or what-will-happen-if speculations. The illness triggered the massive rush of waste thoughts. Looking back, more than anything, I felt that the barrage of negativity largely contributed to the tiredness I felt. It was too great, that I literally attracted the garbage truck to meet me daily.
I Dare You to Stop
Truth be told, what I have is a mere vitamin deficiency- nothing chronic really. The sad part is I allowed it to drag me into a pity-me charade, back to the past drama, and fortune-telling sessions.
This very moment, I say, "No more!" to ruminating about the past or the future. These ifs, what could haves, buts, and whys shall touch me no more. If I have to bid my life adieu then so be it. But, "I will not go gentle into that good night". As Dylan Thomas eloquently put it, "I shall rage, rage against the dying of the light." (Too melodramatic? I know.) So, from this day forward, I shall hold my precious precious time like the gold present it is. Goodbye dump truck!
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| cartoon from http://www.reverendfun.com |
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