Blank Pages
A blank page. Finally.
I’ve noticed I haven’t come face-to-face with plain, white, blank pages lately—everything was a continuation of another…and another. For weeks, I’ve been writing different things: from contemporary shorts to a trial of some sorts of a long novel; from my deepest feelings in first person, a personal letter in second person, to what I guess could have been done in third person. But then again, a writer’s block, or any form of block forever lures in, wasting such precious time you spend staring at your paper, and also throwing away all your enormous ideas and thoughts before you can put them down to writing. It’s always been like that: I don’t finish something today, I continue tomorrow. That’s how it is to me, at least. Until I’ve gotten tired. Until I’ve lost track and somehow decided to put it on a stop—a pause, perhaps, or whatever—because I have realized how suffocating it was for me.
The exact same thing every day, every time, sometimes gets suffocating.
But it doesn’t mean that you should let it go away.
It doesn’t mean that you don’t love it; that you don’t treasure it as much as you treasure whatever new that comes to your life.
It doesn’t mean that you’re ready to put it behind you for it to be never looked back at again.
Do you know how it feels like to have your mind cleared? To set feet on a new place, for example, and to see anything you haven’t ever seen before; to breathe, and to wake up with a fresh start and most importantly, a gleaming beacon of hope to bring through sunrises and sunsets. And moonlights.
Change. It’s very wonderful.
That’s how I’m feeling right now. That’s how I feel for the past; for the present. And for the first time in my very short existence, I am excited about the future.
The moment the New Year entered, I knew it had to be better than the last time. It’d be worth the shot, because while I know 2015 wasn’t much of a good deal to me, it was also the year when I learned most and I figured more things out by myself, I suppose. So it’d be great to let this year rain more lessons on me—on us. Besides, it happens on all of us, right? As we grow, whether by numbers or experiences, we start to think about and what’s going to be ahead of us, and what we want to be there when we get there.
We think about preparing for a fresh start.
It started last April, when I talked myself into doing something else for the remaining months for the summer, you know, instead of staying under the roof, reading and scrolling and connecting. I think it did work. It was fun.
I have disconnected myself from the internet, yet again, and somehow I was able to connect myself fully to the people I learned to have the most fun with.
They say any place becomes beautiful when you know you’re with the right people—those whose hearts are close to yours. I’ve had my fair share of that. I may only be right here, unlike most of you who are anywhere but here, but I am having a great time. We all have different definitions of the label “great,” and I’d like to think that mine doesn’t come close to the adjective flawless. I think a great time would fit better as that one you can never forget. What more can I ask for?
One of the many things I have learned for the past month that I would also like to share with you—one of the pair of eyes reading this (if anyone is)—is from the first session of our Ca-TALK in our chapel community in Villa San Miguel (—one of which I can say has been my home for years now). Emmaus: the place where Jesus walked with two of his apostles after his death. It is the kind of escape we try to dwell ourselves into to heal, to forget and to refresh ourselves once again from different troubles and pain we’ve gotten in the past. We leave our home to go to our own Emmaus for a while, only to go back when we’re already okay—good as new.
I think that’s what most of us need right now. At times when we get tired of the exact same thing; hurt and strong emotions seem to be blinding us, it is safe to say that we should stop for a bit; leave and find new doors for us to enter—and maybe then we can find our peace, our resolutions.
This summer has become my Emmaus of some sorts, only, I don’t think I’m going to be leaving it behind me when school starts again, or when anything else starts again. In fact, I am bringing most of it with me—the lessons, the passion, the inspirations and the dedication. I thankfully consider it as an addition, if anything, actually. I have found pieces of myself I didn’t know I could find this early, and I think something like that—something as pristine as that—is not one that can be easily forgotten. I know that for sure because I’ve already had and lost this chance of change once a few months ago. This time I don’t ever plan on letting go again.
See? It wasn’t suffocation that pushed me to write all of these in one breath. It is a natural instinct to think about what’s next, so that’s probably it to me: a blank page.
Go find your blank page, too. For it can push you to be someone greater; to do something greater.
P.S., I wrote this a week before the retreat so my lack of blabbering about it (it was one of the few highlights of my life!!) says a lot. It was very important to me that I would have written a whole post for and about it if only I weren't too lazy...and if only I had more time. So, I thank you, VSMY and thank You.
I’ve noticed I haven’t come face-to-face with plain, white, blank pages lately—everything was a continuation of another…and another. For weeks, I’ve been writing different things: from contemporary shorts to a trial of some sorts of a long novel; from my deepest feelings in first person, a personal letter in second person, to what I guess could have been done in third person. But then again, a writer’s block, or any form of block forever lures in, wasting such precious time you spend staring at your paper, and also throwing away all your enormous ideas and thoughts before you can put them down to writing. It’s always been like that: I don’t finish something today, I continue tomorrow. That’s how it is to me, at least. Until I’ve gotten tired. Until I’ve lost track and somehow decided to put it on a stop—a pause, perhaps, or whatever—because I have realized how suffocating it was for me.
The exact same thing every day, every time, sometimes gets suffocating.
But it doesn’t mean that you should let it go away.
It doesn’t mean that you don’t love it; that you don’t treasure it as much as you treasure whatever new that comes to your life.
It doesn’t mean that you’re ready to put it behind you for it to be never looked back at again.
Do you know how it feels like to have your mind cleared? To set feet on a new place, for example, and to see anything you haven’t ever seen before; to breathe, and to wake up with a fresh start and most importantly, a gleaming beacon of hope to bring through sunrises and sunsets. And moonlights.
Change. It’s very wonderful.
That’s how I’m feeling right now. That’s how I feel for the past; for the present. And for the first time in my very short existence, I am excited about the future.
The moment the New Year entered, I knew it had to be better than the last time. It’d be worth the shot, because while I know 2015 wasn’t much of a good deal to me, it was also the year when I learned most and I figured more things out by myself, I suppose. So it’d be great to let this year rain more lessons on me—on us. Besides, it happens on all of us, right? As we grow, whether by numbers or experiences, we start to think about and what’s going to be ahead of us, and what we want to be there when we get there.
We think about preparing for a fresh start.
It started last April, when I talked myself into doing something else for the remaining months for the summer, you know, instead of staying under the roof, reading and scrolling and connecting. I think it did work. It was fun.
I have disconnected myself from the internet, yet again, and somehow I was able to connect myself fully to the people I learned to have the most fun with.
They say any place becomes beautiful when you know you’re with the right people—those whose hearts are close to yours. I’ve had my fair share of that. I may only be right here, unlike most of you who are anywhere but here, but I am having a great time. We all have different definitions of the label “great,” and I’d like to think that mine doesn’t come close to the adjective flawless. I think a great time would fit better as that one you can never forget. What more can I ask for?
One of the many things I have learned for the past month that I would also like to share with you—one of the pair of eyes reading this (if anyone is)—is from the first session of our Ca-TALK in our chapel community in Villa San Miguel (—one of which I can say has been my home for years now). Emmaus: the place where Jesus walked with two of his apostles after his death. It is the kind of escape we try to dwell ourselves into to heal, to forget and to refresh ourselves once again from different troubles and pain we’ve gotten in the past. We leave our home to go to our own Emmaus for a while, only to go back when we’re already okay—good as new.
I think that’s what most of us need right now. At times when we get tired of the exact same thing; hurt and strong emotions seem to be blinding us, it is safe to say that we should stop for a bit; leave and find new doors for us to enter—and maybe then we can find our peace, our resolutions.
This summer has become my Emmaus of some sorts, only, I don’t think I’m going to be leaving it behind me when school starts again, or when anything else starts again. In fact, I am bringing most of it with me—the lessons, the passion, the inspirations and the dedication. I thankfully consider it as an addition, if anything, actually. I have found pieces of myself I didn’t know I could find this early, and I think something like that—something as pristine as that—is not one that can be easily forgotten. I know that for sure because I’ve already had and lost this chance of change once a few months ago. This time I don’t ever plan on letting go again.
See? It wasn’t suffocation that pushed me to write all of these in one breath. It is a natural instinct to think about what’s next, so that’s probably it to me: a blank page.
Go find your blank page, too. For it can push you to be someone greater; to do something greater.
Live a happy life.
Live with God.
P.S., I wrote this a week before the retreat so my lack of blabbering about it (it was one of the few highlights of my life!!) says a lot. It was very important to me that I would have written a whole post for and about it if only I weren't too lazy...and if only I had more time. So, I thank you, VSMY and thank You.
Ask me anything. Talk to me about anything.
bvvalenz@gmail.com
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