Quotes

"The more engaged we become, the more detached we will have to be."
- Deepak Chopra (Reader's Digest, March 2009)

Detachment is not necessarily a bad thing. It all just depends on what the outcome would be. You detach yourself from yourself. You go out of that box you keep yourself in: bursting through the folds, ripping off that duct tape that seals you within. 

To be more engaged you have to be more detached means that you should not just settle with what you have now. If you can do more, then go for it. Don't limit yourself to what you know or what other people dictate. Go beyond it, prove them otherwise. Don't tell yourself that this is the only thing you are capable of. There's so much about you that you have yet to figure out and saying that you are only capable of this and that is such a sad thing to say. 

We close tend to ourselves to other possibilities. Why? I think it's because of fear. The fear that you don't know what's going to happen. The fear that you might not like what you'll find on the other side of the wall. The fear of regretting even trying. 

But really... I think one should only be afraid of not trying. Not trying means losing an opportunity to get to know yourself. We cannot see ourselves if we prefer to 'stay put'. There's no progress. No shift. 

How can you be content with being sessile? Haha

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I'm not much a of a writer, so I apologize if my posts are a bit sloppy. These are thoughts formed from quotes I've collected over the years.

Thoughts: Silence

This happened on our field trip to Batangas in January 2010. The day was drawing to a close, with no other mishaps we encountered along the way (our bus broke down before we even got to the site). The sun was setting over at the horizon, and night slowly crept in. 
 
It was one of those nights after a school activity that you would be expecting your parents to be waiting there at school to pick you up.


I remember when I was still in high school, there were interclass competitions that would usually stretch until 10PM, and the safest way to get home is to pick up the phone and greet your dad with a sheepish grin on your face, asking him sweetly to come pick you up.


But things were different now.
 
There was no one waiting for me at the other end. Calling won't help at all, for the one I would ask to come would have to get on a plane, instead of a car, and travel for an hour and forty-five minutes besides the usual 15-minute trip. I sighed to myself inside that bus. I listened to my seatmate tell me that her parents will be picking her up, even though they're an hour away from our destination. She was lucky. I can already hear the others calling their parents, or it was the other way around, telling the one on their other end that we're almost there (we left later that the presumed time).


The bus took a turn into that all too familiar lane and parked at the curb. Sure enough there was a small crowd outside the building, most of them I think were parents. My seatmate pointed out that her parents were there, I looked out the window and followed her gaze. Her dad gave a small wave; next to him was her mother. We descended the bus. Most of the students went home in cars; the others who were also dormers went back in a group. Ten minutes later, there were only a few of us left.


It was so quiet.


At that time I would already be greeted by the sound of wheels coming to a halt near the entrance. My ears acquired the ability to recognize the sound my dad's car would make when he approaches (weird, right?). This was then followed by the driver's door opening, and my dad coming out to help me with my stuff. A smile on his face, a grin on mine: "Hi pap!" I would run to him and give him a small peck on the cheek. When my stuff has been put away, we would get in the car, me in the passenger seat. He would then ask me about my day and what we did at the site, small talk, but something I enjoy very much. 
 
It was the drive home that I missed.


Once the last bus came and I got the stuff I was waiting for, I continued on my way home. It was 8PM, the school was deserted since it was a Friday. I can hear the crickets chirping and the rustling of the leaves, the smell of the evening flowers reaching me.


Tears started to well up.


As pathetic as it may seem to most people, I can't really help it. I got back to the dorm, no one was there on the first floor as I trudged my way in. I imagined my mom coming out to greet me, my two little brothers right behind her to get my things and asking me stuff, telling me things that happened while I was away. 


The house was quiet. 


I climbed up the stairs and was greeted by an empty room. I dropped my stuff on the floor and sat in my chair.


Staring blankly out the window… I let go.