on scrubbing stubborn dirts and thoughts.

While my hands are submerged in a concoction that cannot be described as pleasant to the touch and smell – as it was a mixture of tricloro cleanser, dried lizard poop, marble decays, fallen-hair sieve and pungent what-have-yous -- my mind is in such a wonderful state of tranquility. A kind of peace I struggle to attain during the times I had my back against my bed.

-I could not understand why despite the elaborate preparation for my sleep event, I could not not not make myself dose off in a dreamy fashion. I had all the aroma and lights detail—No lights. No sounds. No unwanted grime in my face. No unwanted bodily scent. No tea (thanks zaza for the checklist!). Lots of burning essential oils. Lots of fanning air. Lots of prayers. Lots of counting sheep!-

While on heavy attempt to whiten and cleanse my loo's tiles, my mind was processing accordingly. Yes! I was having a very engaging quiet session of Q and A albeit the hard and constant scrubbing!

Among the topics was yesterday’s ym stat: “For the first time in my life, I am scared of valentine’s day”. Well yes. I am—and I got some teasing for that. :p. Not too long ago I am still one of those who sees the fourteenth of Feb as a day any hotel, malls and resto marketing team would eagerly, cleverly and artistically look forward to. So there is no intense reason to associate the celebration of love and its state. Until yesterday I realized: inasmuch as I have grown ideas on affection and love, I have grown tendencies to be sternly detached and indifferent.

Of the thought that I was most contained is the fact that: I have suffered great losses, sadness, failures and rejections. But I dealt with them in silence as I thought that grieving is easier with less words said and done. Whenever it felt shackling, it used to be enough to go down on my knees and say “I’m hurt.” It frees me. But the past sad days made me notice how this no longer works; how I get to be a miser on the same issues running on my mind without end: how words became inadequate to express and drain me of the gloom: I have lost the power to console myself.

Then I realized that my silence is nothing but an attempt to deny myself the truth. While its good to look at being quiet as a way to salvage oneself against damaging actions done on impulse and verbal whims, I realized that I never really did it to serve its purpose; that I was all to myself because I didn’t want to admit a fate less than happy, less than simple.

I would have never come to this conclusion had I not met two wonderful friends this past few weeks: Unusual and Grace Under Pressure. Unusual is resilience personified while Grace Under Pressure is grace under pressure!! :p I love it how these two people take/took the injustices in their lives: the aggressors are forgiven, the aggression not forgotten. This saying, as much as I am concern, is as old as I am. I have read, heard and agreed on it several times. But I guess I never really knew how to live out its wisdom. I am all emotions from head to foot and that makes me remember pain better than NAMES.

I remember when I was still into Sunday school sessions (I am Catholic and so are my siblings. I think we spent a fourth of our lives going faithfully to Christian gatherings.) I would look at images of men and four-legged beasts like lions and tigers happily juxtaposed with each other. Absent was a hint of fear and madness. This is the place where I'd like to be. Heaven. I used to think that it is really possible. That the second coming is about a chance to peacefully interact with scary animals. I prayed hard to be amongst the saved ones. I'd like to see a lion purr in my hand. I guess thats where I draw the idea of a simple life. That everything is possible--just do the your end of the bargain. I didn't give a portion of my brainspace for things like: what if not?

Back then, the picture is about the easiness of things and the absence of complexities. Now, it might be saying something: that personal heaven is created when we deal with our lions-a source of fear-in manner close to being beautiful physically--no scowls, no distorted angered faces--and intrinsically--no raging foul words wanting to come out through your mouth. I am not a hyprocrite to say that I know and do this. As of writing, truth be told, I don't. Coz I know my moods better. But I'd really like to remove some unnecessary complexities in my system. It wouldn't hurt if I have less of them. I don't know if I'd become what I want just by doing my end of this bargain. But sure it wouldn't hurt if I start scrubbing the grime and poop off my chest and brain.

I don't know what but there is something appeasing when I am scrubbing my bathroom walls and floor.