It's time that I have to forgo, to let go of what has been inside, troubling, seemingly killing my urges, these are fantasies and dreams, to know what is really going on. Can't figure it. A thousand, a million, countless, they are emotions, feelings, ideas. There was a time I could write. It's so hard, so difficult now. Something is holding up. As you can see, it's been a long time since I last updated this blog of mine. Now I'm trying to counter, to fight, to really let go. But there's a lot of things to do, or things to be done. Procrastinations, lazy writing. And dollars.
I have my choices. Which one? Something that can make richer in my mind and spirit, and body.
 

Fear! This is not fear of the unknown. But fear of what is inside. Fear that has been here wanting to conquer me. Trying to outsmart it, because it looks like a foreign entity maneuvering down to the very last bone. Now it's preventing me from moving on, from realizing my tremendous potential.

Truly mysterious. But if I am able to get hold of it, strangle it, and throw it to the dogs, this whole self can become great. It's the only one preventing my movement, my successes, and it's cause much pleasure.

Fear. or fear.
 

Without looking back at my past blogs on this website, I think this is my second time writing about freedom. Freedom is a sweet topic, a word I love to glance at my imagination or memory inside. Freedom deals with many connotations, or it bears some hidden meanings. The word alone is rich in history, it can be linked to art, ideology, and most of all my writing, our writing.

Freedom is power. In writing alone, I like to think of freedom as the power to create many things, like stories, and characters, scenes, plots and subplots in stories, art in writing. Freedom can be observed and enjoyed almost absolutely in writing. Writers write a lot about freedom, or they write not on the subject but they are the most who enjoy it. Freedom suppressed destroys many things, on the ordinary human being, but mostly on writers.

I have enjoyed a lot of my freedom ever since I started putting words on a piece of paper, or typing on the computer. If only all people know the benefits of writing even on just a crumpled piece of paper, and on a lap top, many will know and enjoy freedom.
 

December the 24th! How time flies! Yesterday you were young, full of vigor, and you thought Christmas comes after so many jobs, and sacrifices. This time you can be rested from your job, and now some gifts are coming. But how Christmas has become so materialistic! There are those who say they can't have Christmas because there'll be nothing in their tables on "Noche Buena", i.e., midnight dinner on Christmas eve. For the rich in my country, they have everything, in fact, more than enough for Christmas. While the poor are extremely poor, for they have nothing to eat, the rich have much, much more.

This is Christmas, Philippine style.
 

Childhood impressions are quite lasting, and I think we all believe that. Once you experience something, or you meet an event, a thing, a person, for the first time in your life, that will never be gone on you. It's an imprint that can never erased from your memory bank, until you die, until eternity. An impression on me involves a personality. He could not be erased from my mind because of his accomplishments when we were then in high school. To my impression, he was a perfect creation, if I may say so. A valedictorian, student leader, a focus of girls' eyes, including my crush, he was an envy to everybody.

They are memories that could never be gone. I went to college, to other places, to other pursuits. Finally, I came across with the name again. He's an ordinary man now, like me, not rich, not an idol, and I can say that I am ahead on some little pursuits, not on material things but on some "minor" accomplishments like family, friends, and, some "little" happiness.

What went wrong? What happened to my idol?

I think, just I think, he was an ordinary lad like me then, and he became an idol only in my imagination. Man grows, works, accomplishes, one time, and then some other time. We will always have our time here on earth, God knows, and will let you know when will that time that be.

There's no one perfect. There is no one created more advanced than you. We are equal. Our imagination makes others perfect. Which should not be. We all have the capacity to advance, to improve, to be somebody more developed than we are now. And God permits it that way. Because we are semi-God, although we are not God. One thing is certain, we were created in His likeness, therefore we are near-perfect, we can strive to be great. And greater.

Not just my idol, but me too.

 

Yesterday in the Army, that is the title of my first novel. Well, it's over a year now, and I'm half-way through. This is really like climbing a mountain, but I have to pursue it, an inner calling, an inner challenge, somebody, something inside's waking me up in that very unusual time of day, to jot, to write, to do something.

It's about the years when I was in the armed service, at the prime of my life when I really didn't know where I was going. So I joined the army - the constabulary particularly - to make myself sure where to go. It wasn't really that good, I mean, what happened were inconsistencies, but fast-forward it to the present, it can be the Spirit telling me that that's really where you're going.

"Anyway, you're coming here. This is where you are."
 

They say a horse has much strength. It can absorb the venom of a cobra, it's strength is used to measure the power of a machine. Can we have the power of a horse? We can indeed. Our mental strength can not be overpassed by a horse. We can overpower a horse by the strength of our imagination. I try it - by looking straight ahead.

I try to do this by looking at the sky, a bright, early morning sky, and looking at the horizon from a farm, with a young mother with her babe taking advantage of the morning breeze and the smooth sunlight. Try it. You'll feel the horse, the one that absorbs the venom, and whose strength is used to measure the power of a machine.
 

I've written something about fear. I would like to stress it here that when I wrote "Lady in White", it was that time when there was fearsome quiet. I was afraid. Now that I'm writing this, I feel the same. The fear that I felt at that time is the fear that I feel now. But both are two different situations. That time it was midnight of "All Souls' Day", now it's day time. I feel I'm afraid I might not be able to write. We have to conquer fear at any time of day.
 

Expressing ideas and opinions is democracy. We all know that. Each of us has ideas distinct from others. This is what makes us humans. And sometimes they overlap one another. Because they overlap, conflict. Conflicts occur in every area of life, at home, at work, in the neighborhood.

Religion tells us that God created man with a free will. Out of this free will, we produce ideas sometimes in conflict with God's will. If we humans find ourselves in conflict with God's ideas, how much more with our fellow humans. That's why we should be careful, we should act always according to our conscience if we don't want to find ourselves at war.

The question of free will is mind-boggling question. Why did God give us free will only to be in conflict with His will? This needs a lot of soul-searching.
 

Now I know what Nanowrimo is. I know what I, what to feel, what to say, what to write. Could I be on the right track? Maybe, but it's just exciting, fascinating, to get into the realm of the unknown, and my white lady is there, always in company, always by my side.

Hope to meet you there. At nanowrimo, the Philippines.