Thursday, 10 June 2010
It’s been like eons that I have been without dreams of flying. I used to have them around my pre-Cambodia personal diaspora, somewhere in the vicinity of the ‘90s when I was still putting out poem after poem of quotidian existence in Manila and my work-related travels around the country. The almost daily grind of taking the EDSA road with its chaotic, nondescript, and pedestrian edifices and structures bursting on the seams, the unsightly flyovers and metro-railway structures that could give you the sensation of getting constricted to the core of your heart, such rawness and soreness of the megacity’s detritus which includes, well, the mighty strivings of the spirits and the hearts, all palpable and throbbing deep into your consciousness.
And through all this affair of getting by in the midst of sounds and furies, I was still able to claim some decent respite in the form of wonderful dreams, particularly of flying. I would find myself walking on a dark deserted road, breaking into a run and taking off at a sudden leap, ascending and ascending to greater heights until I was way off the treetops and moving through the expanse of oceans and unknown cities. Almost always I did this phenomenon at will and sometimes my efforts were in vain. But this surreal run to my solitary life is a most welcome episode. I want for a longest time to carry this gift of flying.
That is why when I got back this gift last night, I woke up suffused with quiet joy and tranquility. After so long a time, after so long a journey through the mad ravings of the heart.
Well, this quaint Cambodian frog is having its own shot at other-wordly musings while plastered on the wall of my house. Stoned or dreaming seemingly. But hey maybe it’s mulling over what Robert Pirsig philosophizes: “Cultivate peace of mind which does not separate one’s surroundings. When that is done successfully then everything else follows naturally.”
Koh Kong, Cambodia