No Phoenix

15 May 2013

I know who I am. I am a chameleon as my sister says. I blend with the surroundings until I become indistinguishable. My desire to become natural manifested as wanting to imbibe and become one with the surroundings that I shun and hide from attention.

My duplicity is voiding me out. How come I have very defined requirements that even I become unaware that I should receive them in the right amounts or I’ll get upset?

And Sam is on the bed. Her horizontal orientation entices my eyelids to droop. She talks about her new crush, one of the two interns, John Paul. Initially, she had a crush on Jerome, now she’s crushing on John Paul. Now she’s talking about Randell. Distraction cultivates in me a healthy sense of self.

Oppression is a state of mind. Poverty is a form of oppression. So is illness. I had the notion that people who are sick called it upon themselves; sick people are responsible for the state of their poor health. The mind thinketh, the body disagreeeth.

If I gain a firm hold of myself, of who I really am, I will be free to do things. Everything became a possibility. There were no if onlys or unless. Everything was an it and my mind would no longer be apathetic; half of its shield stripped off and my naked mind was at work, defenseless.

Micai said I must’ve been traumatized. Maybe. When I was screamed at and humiliated the last time, I might’ve. How would I know? I want to recover badly from it. There’s no use rushing or I’ll unwound the work that’s done. My mind refuses to accept information lately, especially when it’s related to work.

I am not the only one who has to suffer despite the odds against me. Not only I, most people have tougher battles to face than mine. I was always aware of that but it didn’t reach me.

Depression was a fog. It deceived me into thinking that my flame was nonexistent. All there was was a torch with a burned out flame and I am one with the darkness.

I felt I’ve aged years, as if I was experiencing a sort of Sinai, and just like Moses I would come out with all white hair. In my case, I got shorter hair. My mother was disturbed. Who wouldn’t be? I grabbed at the right side of my hair, cutting at the top end of what I’ve grabbed. I left it that way and waited until after the elections before I cut short the other side. Not a healthy sign, I must be on my way to going nuts.

I thought I was not carrying a torch in my heart. Then came the rain. It was the rain that lit the torch. The conflagration dissipated the haze and I knew that the fire had been burning there all the while. Now the flame is ablaze. I am aware of it.

No more I’s. I will work through the world, becoming a productive member of it or trying to be whatever the case is or however prolonged the anxiety presses. There is no I for there is only a Him. I will work for Him. He is the strength of my heart. My purpose is clear: the bigger picture is that I love the Lord with all my heart, all my mind and all my strength. He is my part and my portion forever. Even if the world around me fails to make sense, as Solomon enunciates that everything is meaningless and so do I, I no longer have any zest at all to live but I should not surrender my claim to life even so.

Regardless of the rise, the truth of the fall and each tik waiting for the tok where I am at the pendulum as well, swinging side to side constantly at the deciding point between utter destruction and exaltation, He remains the same. He upholds the gloriousness of man – the faith proven by His life that people could achieve glory that denies being and doing, of life that transcends dying.

More conscious am I that during these times, I live as I die. Each moment of life is spent on death, a sort of decay and degeneration. Am I a phoenix that I should put up with this?