Be Kind

Accept that nothing is ever just yours. Accept that no one will ever be just yours.

Not the new laptop you’ll buy with your own money, not the love of your life, not the district you live in, definitely not the country you live in, and most certainly not the world.

Be kind. Know your place. There are many spaces within your own world that you believe must be filled, but they can be left unfilled. Not empty, just open.

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Recounting

in which I thank different people for many things

  1. We didn’t think we’d make it in time. None of the plans we had made in July materialized beyond preliminary related literature research, and we had only officially started writing our thesis early January. But mid-way through February, we presented our defense to two of the least threatening professors of the European Studies department. We all left Bel smiling that morning.
  2. Thank you for almost cutting class for me that day. We both knew then that we should start asking the questions we’d long been meaning to. Sa’n ka na? was a good place to start.
  3. Everyone was telling you what you wanted to hear: He doesn’t deserve you; Ang tanga naman niya; Mas maganda ka talaga kay sa babaeng ‘yun. But after we talked a lot and cried a lot less, we left the office knowing none of that was what we needed.
  4. It was about time we made our paths cross one weekend. Cavite was your home away from home, and for two days and one night, it was also ours. There was more of our family than yours, but your generosity and your parents’ extend beyond numbers. Being counted in was more than enough.
  5. Why, Pam? Why? was probably the first thing you said after you asked me how I am. Shock is a common response, and disappointment is just as common, if not more hidden. But thank you for choosing my happiness over your incredulity for the rest of our dinner date. I never thought a Classic Italian sandwich would taste better with your blatant disapproval, but our conversation was definitely more flavorful than the red wine vinaigrette.
  6. Stop being so motherly. That was one of the reasons I had a small crush on you. Another was admiration. I wondered if my staffers would feel as at home, as comfortable and as valued around me as we were with you, but I left before I could find out.
  7. Thank you for convincing me to stay.
  8. You didn’t change the way I hoped you would. Probably nothing did. But I still believe something might.

The Way Things Work

Jorie Graham

The way things work
is by admitting
or opening away.
This is the simplest form
of current: Blue
moving through blue;
blue through purple;
the objects of desire
opening upon themselves
without us; the objects of faith.
The way things work
is by solution,
resistance lessened or
increased and taken
advantage of.
The way things work
is that we finally believe
they are there,
common and able
to illustrate themselves.
Wheel, kinetic flow,
rising and falling water,
ingots, levers and keys,
I believe in you,
cylinder lock, pulley,
lifting tackle and
crane lift your small head–
I believe in you–
your head is the horizon to
my hand. I believe
forever in the hooks.
The way things work
is that eventually
something catches.

somewhere i have never travelled, glaldy beyond

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me,i and my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

You must learn him.

You must know the reason why he is silent. You must trace his weakest spots. You must write to him. You must remind him that you are there. You must know how long it takes for him to give up. You must be there to hold him when he is about to.

You must love him because many have tried and failed. And he wants to know that he is worthy to be loved, that he is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep him.

(Originally from This is How You Lose Her, by Junot Díaz. Pronouns were originally female. This speaks to my heart, regardless of what the gender of the pronoun is.)