Writing and The Reality of a Less than Ideal World

On a weekday, I would usually go straight in front of the laptop to draft something coming home from work. Today is not one of those days. My husband has to use the laptop, HIS laptop. Since the day we came here in Sydney, my dear laptop refused to turn on. My husband tried everything he can to help me resurrect it but the best he could do was recover all my files from the hard disk. I’m not sure whether it got so used to the humid weather too much that it refuses to survive on Sydney’s dry breeze, or it’s just my luck! We tried bringing it to the repair station and they were asking us $700 for the repair. That costs as much as a brand new laptop so you guessed it, we didn’t have it repaired. However, I haven’t bought a new one either (nothing to blame but the fact that two finance people marrying each other would make for a thrifty-bordering-cheapskate kind of household). So here I am, trying to work out a decent post using…that’s right, my phone!

This romantic notion that, well, if someone has the talent and desire to write, they’ll get it done no matter how exhausting their day job is or how few hours they have to write, is a nice fiction, but it’s no reflection of real life, or of how creativity works for most people

I came across this comment from @Pamela Troy on one of Salon.com’s posts about writers and the reality of pursuing a writing career. It’s an interesting article with an equally thought provoking discussion going on in the comments section. You may want to check it for yourself here.

I’m one living proof of this article. I enjoy writing and I found an outlet from the daily grind through blogging, but aside from a laptop, I’m also very much constrained with time. I can only start writing at 7pm, that’s the earliest on weekdays. I have of course, other responsibilities on weekends. I am also studying to get a CPA license, because writers and artists according to the article needs a day-job, which I need a license to sustain and make the most out of. I remember I told my husband while writing one weekend that this is what I want to do. I want to be home-based, writing for a living. He very lovingly gave me a dose of reality by saying it’s a nice dream but, “What will we eat?” Of course, we can eat cause he has a fulltime job too but we’ll have to give up on our current apartment which is very convenient and our lifestyle (which is not really much but something we can call decent). We’re only starting out our lives here. We have to work–I have to work! If that means I need to wake up every morning, rush to the office and sit down on a full eight hours of non-stop spread sheet formula, reports generation and numbers analyses, then so be it. Artists were not given equal opportunities to begin with but what does it matter? God gave me a degree, a supportive husband and a stable source of income. It may not be equivalent to the wealth or the connections, but that is enough. After all, this is reality. There are costs to following one’s dreams.

Doing the same thing for seven years, I can’t help but yearn for something better than this. So when blogging came to the picture, I embraced it. Everynight even if I were so tired, I would try and read and find some inspiration. Every now and then, I try to write. But lately, my husband noticed that this new found passion is taking too much of my time that should have been so rightfully spent sleeping. I’ve been running on four hours of sleep on the average of late.

Upon reading this article from salon.com, I felt the reality of our condition. This society unfortunately favors the security of blunt and unexciting, less fulfilling job titles over self-expression and artistic inclinations. We can blame capitalism all we want. The point is, it’s never going to be easy (unless you’re either born or married to a millionaire). But that also made me realize how much I really like it, cause I still think it’s worth the sacrifices.

The past few nights I’ve been praying that God puts me in the right direction regarding my career. I think I got a prelude to an answer. God is testing my heart, “This is the reality of what you’re asking, do you still want it?”

Yes, I do. How or when it will happen, I do not know. As a Christian though, I’m just so grateful I can leave it up to Him and simply trust.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. -Jeremiah 29:11

In the meantime, I’d have to give my overworked phone a break and my body some time to recharge. My stable-income day job awaits!

 

 

Featured photo is part of our very own engagement photo album, shot in 2013 by the Wedding Photographer, Nez Cruz.

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One Day I’ll Be Free

I was staring on the blackboard, when one of my classmates got everyone’s attention. He was sleeping, right there, in the middle of our history class. I heard our teacher say, “Shhh, don’t wake him up! He’s dreaming of a better Philippines.” And everybody laughed.

THAT was high school.

Don’t you miss those days? Back when things were simpler, just pass the exams and you’ll be alright. You can sleep in class and not get fired. You can make mistakes and only loose some points, not millions for some business God knows who owns. The consequences of what you do and what you choose affect no one else but you. Throwing surprise parties for the teacher when you were supposed to have class was a smart way to escape it. And you can get away with it, feeling even more loved and appreciated.

Oh, how I miss those days! When I can afford to stop, stare and not jeopardize my future. I can be different and not be so bad. I can be creative and not be defiant. When learning was not constrained and money was not all that matters, I sleep and wake up without the worries of this world. I can choose whom I would want to spend my time with and not have to sit down on lunch-outs when I don’t feel like it.

When I was a student, I wanted nothing else but to graduate thinking that’s how I’d finally be free. If I knew then what I know now, I would’ve wished those days would never end.

Those were the days when every day was new. Now, the passing days are just all the same old calculating. These Excel files, oh how boring!

I was staring on the blackboard then.. and everybody laughed. I’m still staring on a screen here now wishing I were sleeping like my classmate was.

But then again I thought, even if I were sleeping, still I will wake up dreaming

–One day I’ll be free.

 

 

Featured Photo is from Oren Lavie’s music video “Her Morning Elegance”. Watch it here.

For the Love of Rain

And of all the days, my brain chose to forget my jacket…today!

This is bed weather. It should be made illegal to require employees and students to go and work on a day like this. You can’t just deprive people the pleasure of curling up on their beds while listening to the rain pouring outside. That is just so mean.

Featured Photo credit to https://eddynyc.wordpress.com/

Of Goodbyes and A New Beginning

Wow! Ain’t this perfect? Waking up late on a Monday without the noise of construction going on from the other building beside ours is just THE life! Being used to a long Christmas break from where I’m from, I felt I’ve been deprived rest during the holidays since  non-working days were limited to only the exact Christmas and New Year’s days here. But now… Australia Day!!! What an awesome time to reminisce the story of how I got here in the first place.

A few months back, I was only a bored employee who was desperate for an exciting change. Don’t get me wrong, ‘bored’ doesn’t mean I had all the time in the world with nothing to do. It was boring because almost all I did was work. I go home so late that brushing my teeth before going to bed is the only thing I could do by the time I reach home. A little after a year of marriage, my husband and I got our resident visas. Immediately, we started packing 20+ years of our lives into 80 kilos of luggage. It was easier said than done. We were surprised with how much things we’ve collected in a span of 1 year. We had to pack them all in boxes to be left with my parents’ with a promise to come back for them one day once we have finally ‘settled’ in. My husband and I gave our beloved cars each to our own moms. We put our apartment on the market for sale. With 80 kilos, we can only bring a number of clothes, a few pairs of shoes and some of the basics to the extent allowed by the Australian Border Protection. Though we wanted to cry as we were boxing and leaving everything behind for the unknown, things happened so fast that we didn’t actually had the time to. Before we closed the door to our apartment one last time,  we said a prayer of how thankful we were for all those times it sheltered us and gave nothing but good memories of our young love, fun sleep overs and hopeful prayers.

FotorCreated
The home we left behind

You can only truly appreciate something when it’s gone… or when you’re on the brink of losing it. A few days before we left, we were able to reflect on how much of a good life we’ve been living in our country. It was already better than most have. More than anything, leaving the people proved to be most difficult. My husband was used to living oceans away from his family, but I wasn’t. This was the first time I’m leaving them for a period lasting for more than 2 weekends. We used to go visit my family even after we got married. It was really hard and even now, I always miss them. But this is also a way of building independence, fulfilling the leaving (the parents) part of marriage to cleave to the spouse. With the sadness of goodbye comes the excitement of new relationships ahead. So apart from our own families, we also left our friends, our shared colleagues from work, our spiritual and professional mentors, our church and a few other people who were part of our lives but don’t fall into one of those categories. We left our comfort zone and sailed into a future unknown–with no jobs, no families, no friends, with only a few thousand bucks and the conviction that God comes with us and will see us through. My husband was scared, I was excited.

People
My family, friends, colleagues and our church on goodbye dinners before we left

Our original flight booking was to Melbourne with a connecting flight from Sydney. We thought our personalities better suit the Melbourne life described by the internet, but God thought otherwise. We didn’t find a place to stay in Melbourne, neither did we find a job. A few days before our arrival, an old colleague confirmed he can take us into his home for a few days. I met him in a brief encounter when I was doing an audit of an area he used to manage for the company we used to work for. Daring as I am, I sent him an email asking for help. He gladly obliged and even gave us tips for the big move. If not for him, we would have been so lost in Australia. He was the one who fetched us from the airport. His family accepted us into their home, though they barely knew us, and treated us like their own. “I told you God will see us through”, I told my husband. 5 days before our flight, we called Qantas and advised that we are cancelling our connecting flight to Melbourne. We are staying in Sydney.

with the couple who gave us shelter on our first few days in Sydney
with the couple who gave us shelter on our first few days in Sydney

They told us the must-do’s for the first days: open a bank account and deposit our money, get a local SIM card, apply for Medicare, familiarize ourselves with the public transportation, learn where to buy groceries and medicines, find our own place to rent and apply for job openings. On top of that, they took us with them when they ate out and shop and even brought us to the landmarks of Sydney. They brought us along when they went out of town for a picnic to enjoy the early season of spring.

Our first few days enjoying Spring
Our first few days enjoying Spring


As if it weren’t enough, God sent us another one of my former colleagues to come meet us on our second day. He took a leave from work to accompany us doing our first days’ must-do’s and actively helped us in finding a place to stay (which would later play a big role to how we are to find one in the next few days).

My good, old buddy
My good, old buddy

On our first 5 days of staying with them, we’ve gained a good first impression of the place we’ve left everything for.

seeing the Opera House for the first time
seeing the Opera House for the first time,
and the Harbour Bridge
…the Harbour Bridge,
and my first fireworks in Darling Harbour
and my first fireworks in Darling Harbour

And right then, we fell in love with this country. ‘Cause how can anyone not love Sydney? God has been faithful to his promise that he will be with us always, wherever we go. Indeed, since those first days ’til now, everyday has been a…

Happy Australia Day!

From Agnosticism to Love: a Journey

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Good Faith.”

“By Birth” doesn’t mean “By Faith”

I was born to a Catholic family and was raised as a Catholic though academic institutions made me a passive Catholic. Growing up, I began to question a lot of the church’s teachings until I gradually became an agnostic. I stopped going to mass. I was not sure whether there is a God or not and that didn’t really matter.. During tough times though, I would still pray to what felt for me was an unknown, distant God. Maybe it was a habit that was hard to break.

First Encounters

I had Christian friends back in College who would ask me to join them in their small group and church service which I did, but at that time I wasn’t ready. I always ended up concluding such sort of stuff wasn’t for me. Every time I try to be a good person, I fail the God I knew. I still held the notion that my “goodness” or “badness” will determine my being a child of God. Realizing I may never learn to stop failing Him, I would keep on sliding back. And so, that’s how I was—lost, unsure, living a life of a constant struggle. It was tough, carrying everything by yourself. I remember I used to relate to the quote: “Despite my rage, I’m still a rat in a cage”.

A Sharp Curve

Having things my way went very well for me until at one point in my life everything fell apart. I was so badly broken I felt I was beyond repair. I faced a sudden tragic death of a loved one, a loss so massive it changed the way I viewed the world. Suddenly, the idea of death became so real. I was no longer in control. I couldn’t do anything. My worldview came crumbling down and I could not help but watch the pieces fall apart. It didn’t make sense to think that a person who used to walk this world with so much life and passion can cease to exist just like that–in a fleeting moment, everything was gone. I knew that men get buried into the ground when their hearts stop beating but is that really the end to their stories? Where does ‘the person’ go? It was too hard for me to swallow the idea that he’s just gone like that. Suddenly what seemed an appealing, rational theory became unacceptable: that we are merely flesh and bones existing by some random chance, which if by another random series of events, our bodies fail, we just stop being alive–this does not make any sense. The person that was, all his thoughts, all his feelings, his dreams, his desires, the very core of the person he was… just *poof* gone like that. No, I cannot accept that! It just doesn’t feel right.

“Seek and You Shall Find”

So, I began my search for the truth about what happens when a person dies. It was a pathetic way of coping up with the idea that I can no longer do anything about the loss. If I could bring my loved one back to life, I would. In fact, in my head I bargained with the God I barely knew. “Bring him back to life, take the days off of mine and transfer it to his account so that he may live longer. Bring him back, I’ll give up a portion of my life, surely we can share it.” You know how crazy people expect that things like this can really happen? That when they wake up in the morning the thing they wished for will really be there waiting outside their rooms? I was THAT crazy. I realized later, it was pointless so I looked elsewhere. Thinking that, at least knowing the truth about his departing would ease the feeling of my helplessness, I searched tirelessly, doing everything I can to know what happened to him after he’s gone.

In the midst of my quest (and tears), my then long time boyfriend left me. Don’t ask. For no reason, he just woke up one morning and realized he could no longer bear the fact of being with me. That. That was the last straw. That got me completely lost. I started asking people randomly about where they think dead people go or if they wanted to die too like I did. I was freaking people out. This was when an officemate responded to me with a friendship I would value for the rest of my life.

Almost There

I had so many questions. He untiringly tried to answer all of them. He told me about God, about Jesus and how he died for me, how he has planned everything that happened in my life so that one day I would learn to know him. Later on, our conversations became more frequent. I was thirsty for more answers. I wanted to know more about this Jesus. He answered me not through his but God’s own words, through the bible. When he shared bible verses to me, they sounded like echoes of my own painful lamentations. To my amusement, all my questions have been asked before, they were all there, written down in the bible. Where the questions were asked, there also were the answers.

Heading Home

He then invited me to church until I felt comfortable attending the service and listening to God’s word. I learned that being a Christian is not about having a change in affiliation but having a change that is deeper, something personal. It is a journey that begins with accepting Jesus and letting him take control of your life. I came to realize how lost I’ve been and learned that nothing I can do can save me from my hopelessness. I need God, I always did.

Until this day I still wonder why God chose to save me after all that I’ve done, after what I have become. But he didn’t doubt me even for a second. Since I accepted him, life ceased to be a constant struggle or a search for meaning. There will always be moments when I’ll fall short of the expectations but I no longer worry. I know that slowly, my life would be transformed. Life is no longer heavy on my shoulders. I learned to let go and completely trust him.  I have never appreciated life so much more since then. I found the answers to my questions about death and in the process, also found life. Death is not permanent. In Christ we are bound, and in grace and love, even death cannot tear us apart. Surely, my brother and I shall meet again.

Today, I am no longer a ‘rat in cage’. I was freed, bought for a price. Admittedly, I am still wandering through this life, sailing where the wind blows. This time though I am assured, that wherever this wind takes me, I’ll be safe.

To blog or not to blog

So I let Monday pass without even opening my blog. I haven’t been very active last week either. I’ve been contemplating a lot since the day we had the blogging101 assignment of writing about me and about the blog. I realized, I, myself am confused as to the direction I would like to take. I wanted it to be an outlet where I could document my reflections and ideas and how Economics applies to each of them. However, more often than not, I find myself lost in my own sea of thoughts. What would I write about next and how would I relate it to Economics? At the end of the day, I end up wanting to write about something else, something more in sync to what I feel at the moment, which was evident in my last post. I originally wanted to blog to have an outlet where I can exercise the other side of the brain (not sure if it is left or right but I am referring to the creative side) since I am tied to an 8-hour day-in-day-out life of a corporate employee. But come Monday evening, the time which is the schedule I set for weekly posts to be published, I find it very difficult to collect my thoughts. It is highly likely that it is because I’m so preoccupied by the limitations of what I am supposed to write about. I have to be faithful to the purpose which I set for this blog. I started to feel like writing a post is another assignment outside of work. That is in truth, contrary to why I jumped into blogging in the first place. When I wrote the page about the blog and asked others to let me know what they honestly think, I got the feedback that they don’t really know what they’re reading about. It’s confusing what direction the blog is heading towards. That left me rethinking the idea of me blogging. Is this for me? Should I press on? What do I really want readers to see? Why would my thoughts be worthy of reading? Do I intend to please people so that I get a loyal following, who is the target audience?

So I took some days off from WordPress and blogging101. I had to contemplate on answering that question whether I should continue on or stop as early as now (when I haven’t given too much of an investment yet). I am grateful to my blogging101 ‘classmates’ @perelincolors and @paddastoel for giving me their brutally honest feedback and to my friend, James, who patiently read every single one of my posts to give me an unbiased evaluation. With their help, I realized that by virtue of the blog purpose I wrote about, I have failed. I wanted a blog that doesn’t show much of my emotions and only talks about things from an economic analysis point of view. Considering their thoughts, I asked myself, “Do I want it to be a heartless blog with purely intellectual articles for which my qualifications are clearly lacking? Is it the direction I want to take? Would it be worthy of any reader’s trust?” I revisited my first four blogs. Reading them again, I noticed that in each of them it felt like I was trying to pour my heart out while also trying to hold back. Can you imagine that? If someone talks to you that way, that person will not gain your trust and more likely than not, you would not want to talk to him or her again. Maybe that’s why all this time, my blog always felt awkward to me. In the end I’m not so convinced myself that I’m loving how my blog is shaping up.

It’s easy to commit online suicide. I can just delete my wordpress account or abandon this blog never to come back again. How melodramatic! The simple question is, should I blog or not in the first place? If there’s no significant purpose for it, why waste my time and energy? Why invest emotionally in this? Might as well use the time sleeping. How productive, I know but that is really the best substitute I am think of at the moment. After all, I gave up on a few hours of sleep writing and trying to set-up this blog. So after blabbering for three paragraphs now, the question that begs an answer still remains, do I want to continue doing this or not? If so, what is really my vision for it? Do I feel compelled enough by the current vision to continue on regardless of month-end peak season at work, heavy readings for the day required for my studies, the temptation of abandoning a post unfinished to watch a movie with my husband who consistently plays one every time I try to come up with a decent post? Is the currently stated intention for the blog strong enough? Is my mind all geared towards the direction I want this blog to take? Man, I wish I could easily say yes but pretending would lead me back where I am now—lost and unsatisfied every after a few post because I am not happy with it. Wow, now this is beginning to sound much like my career journey. So, if indeed it’s a no, will this be my last post? Or do I redefine the vision,do I steer to a new direction?

A Little Background

I went back to the day I decided I want to have blog. It was when I asked my husband why he, himself, blog. He said it is more for him as he intends to document his thoughts and stand on issues and topics about his blog theme. He’s had this blog for 7 years now. He told me that if I ever have to blog, I better start thinking that I do it for myself. So ultimately the utility (economics term which means ‘satisfaction’ in ordinary language) must be for myself. Regardless if someone reads it or not, I should feel fulfilled and happy when I see my blog. This is one thing I also learned about the very first blog I followed, Confessions of a Food Tourist. In her description of the blog, the blogger said she doesn’t intend to change the world only to share what she has experienced. Her vision was very clear, simple and straightforward. I was told that I cannot really do away with revealing myself when I blog. Who would actually listen to life advice from someone they don’t even know? That makes a lot of sense. I must somehow reveal parts of myself which will comprise my online personality. After all, if I have to write it for myself as my husband advised, I have to be able to see and understand me years down the road when I read posts from the past. It is like leaving behind footprints of the person I am today, so that the person I will be tomorrow has something to look back to and watch how life happened, realizing how far she’s been, how her thoughts have changed, her thinking evolved on some things and remain firm on others. This is why I wanted to blog. I want to write about my story, my discoveries ultimately to create an interesting tapestry that unfolds as life goes on in the hopes that in the future, the bits and pieces will be encouraging, to my future self or to anyone who comes across it in the online world.

Blogging’s Place in my Life

Keeping your sanity in the midst of an obvious degradation of interest and all sort of excitement from the ‘work of your life’ can be daunting. Looking back, I wonder in awe at how far I’ve gone and how long I’ve been able to keep it all together (well, this is contestable by virtue of the ‘episodes’ which I so frequently used to have) in the long ~7 years of my career in the field of finance. I realized how much of a big fight I’ve been through, and still is going through all these years. It’s been a long-term love-hate relationship with my line of work. I’ve only managed to come out of each phase better because of the outlets I’ve used: I was lucky that for my first few years, I got to travel as part of the job. When I moved out of that role, I started to take up French classes which I really enjoyed. Oui, je parle un peu Français! After that, I took a formal diploma course in Floral Design. I had lots of fun designing and creating arrangements. When I got my diploma, I had another focus—our migration project. It was not easy getting all the requirements ready for the visa application, investing on something we don’t even know will be granted to us and later planning on how to move 20+ years of our lives in 80kgs of luggage going to a place we’ve never been to before, where we neither have a family nor close friends. We finally settled in and it was not long enough ‘til I was in search again for another outlet. That’s when I thought of blogging. But then again, this has to compete with my studying. I am currently enrolled to the CPA Australia program which, though it is not really my idea of exciting, is a requirement my career demands.

The blog’s vision

If you’ve survived reading this lengthy post, you would have realized by now that, in all honesty, I am not sure what I would like this blog to become. However, there is a little picture in my head which inspired me to continue writing the previous posts I published. That is my future son or daughter reading my thoughts through this blog. If I will ever have kids, which I can’t tell as of the moment, I am not sure they would have the taste for such blabbering from an old woman from a generation past. I would like to think at some point in time, they would. After all, they would have to have my genes in them if they are to be my children. That being my vision, this blog is dynamic. It will be about my life, my experiences—as a frustrated economist; a bored finance professional who despite that fact, strives to be best in her field; as a wife; as a migrant; as a dreamer. As I write from nothing but my own experiences and view of the world, it will be inevitable for me to write about my faith and about my love for God who is the source of my encouragement to live my life every waking moment. From time to time, I am sure I will also write about my past, which would always relate to how my thought process is in the present. I hope that like my husband, 7 years after, I would smile reading my posts and realizing how much I’ve been through and how much beautiful memories I’ve made. Seeing them not from blurry visions of memory but from the words I did write, myself. I am excited about the fact that this blog will take its shape as my life unfolds. So I guess, I am deciding to keep up what I started. I will continue blogging. The categories, topics, the tags will come later. But, I must build on the foundations first.

About this blog

This morning, I told my husband as I was on my way to work that my job is not the kind of work I want to do for the rest of my life. “Go with the wind and sail,” he answered. That sailing—that’s what this blog is about.

 

 

Featured Photo: “At the Crossroad” by Hermanne Allan Poe, taken from the blog of @Christopher B!

and who hears the echoes of stories never told

I often laughed, and you often gave me a dissatisfied look, till you pressed me to unfold my past before you as if it were a roll of pictures. It was then I felt respect for you. Because you unreservedly showed me your resolution to catch something alive in my being, and to sip the warm blood running in my body, by cutting my heart. At that time, I was still living, and did not want to die. So I rejected your request, promising to satisfy you some day. Now I am going to destroy my heart myself, and pour my blood into your veins. I shall be happy if a new life can enter into your bosom, when my heart has stopped beating.
-Natsume Soseki, Kokoro

I read Soseki when I was in high school for my Filipino class (language and literature). I was drawn to the first lines of the Japanese novel translated to Filipino. I still have the words inside my head. Some lines never get erased from memory.

Lumilingon at tumatanaw,
hinahangad ang wala sa kamay.
May halong pait
ang pinakatapat na halakhak.
Pinakamatamis ang awit
tungkol sa pinakamatinding sakit.

-Soskei, Tatsulok Na Daigdig

I’ll briefly translate it in English in my own words (making this a translation of a translation of the original Japanese):

Looking back and looking forward,
yearning for what’s not on hand.
There’s a hint of bitterness
in the most honest laugh
Sweetest is the song
that tells of the worst pain.

-Soseki, The Triangle World

That is how I would personally translate it. I’m no expert so the translation may be a bit literal. Commercial copies of English translations have been available. Someone ordered for me (from the US) a copy of the English Translation “Three-Cornered World” a few years back. He also got me a copy of “Kokoro”. I have always loved the depth of Japanese literature. I have always loved Soseki, his art and the dark and beautiful pictures he drew with his words.

I’ve been wanting to talk about the paradox of value for the past week but I could not seem to collect my thoughts. Finally today, I got the courage to talk about how it’s been been bothering me inside I really need to spit it out. My college textbook talks about diamonds and water to explain this. Everybody needs water to live. But why is it free (or has a negligible cost at most) whereas diamonds (which no one needs to live) are so expensive? That is the paradox. If this world is one of rational people as Economics assumes, why would the world value things from an upside down perspective? If you’ve read my last entries (especially the first one), you would know the answer. Or I could just tell you straight-forward… but I won’t. Today, I am just not in the mood to lecture or teach. Only to write.I’ve been thinking about it lately and yes, most things in our society are valued paradoxically. But really, what can we expect in this fallen world of ours? The paradox of value is most evident with how we deal with time, how we neglect it, how we spend it and give it away. Look at how we waste it because of its abundance. Sure, we will have our daily supply again tomorrow. It’s free, why bother? Well yes that’s true and it’s up to you. Thousands of articles have been written about how we are not to waste our time, spend it with people who matters most and express the emotions we hold deepest.. and today, I’m not going to give you more reasons why or enumerate more instructions on how to make better use of it. If you want to waste it, that is up to you. Today, I’d like to write about something.. I’d love only to write.

I want to know… how do you value memories? In nominal terms, mine would probably have no value. Who would buy them? Its importance is solely limited to me. If it were a business, I’d be the only one who’d patronize it. How much more do you value memories of events no one else knew about? One might be in a slightly better position if the memory is shared. There is value in a mutual agreement, something is set. But what good does it make if the person who shares it never talked about the memory shared? Stories never to be let out, never to be shared, remains in the mind. Or do they? Or are they forgotten for good over time? Do they waste away with the passing of the years? Have they really ever existed, or were they only fragments of the imagination? In a special place that a person guards, are the doors always locked? Or have we only not attempted to knock?

There is a uniqueness in the experiences one person shares with another. And the value of that is in the exclusivity. That a mutual agreement never happened regarding the meaning of experiences, that words weren’t spoken makes it expensive. This is why people hold on to it, the perceived value is highest because the supply has been withheld. The hoarding of another person makes us unsure forever.. but in our own little world we are, we know.. so we hold on.

Moments may or may not come, it differs for each of the memories, for every person, too.
But when that moment comes, when we spit it out or the other person does, or both do…
the moment it is out, it loses its value.. so we let it go.

Just when the value can be measured, when it can be acted on and judged for what it’s really worth,
that’s when we give it up.

The value is in the hiding. In embracing the suffering of a lifetime of secrecy. When we know that only ourselves know. When we hope someone else somewhere at the other end of that string of shared memory knows just as we know it. The value is there. Within the closed doors.

There are also moments that come when,
Reality whispers, there was nothing.
There’s a song in my head that goes:
“who hears the echoes of stories never told?”

Yet we keep them. When we couldn’t touch them, we hold on to them.
Isn’t that the paradox of value?

That’s the absurdity of the human heart.