That Little Room

Again I’ve had doubts about keeping this blog open. The introvert in me feels much stronger than its polar opposite. But the rains have changed my mind. 

It’s already been raining for more than 2 weeks. Some three years ago, why this blog peaked (and is still my highest viewed entry to date), was all because of Ondoy. What experiences I had encountered then, what my thoughts were on. For a time, I got tired. I got exhausted of being one of the faces of that tragedy. It still hasn’t left my mind. It definitely won’t ever leave my heart. I thought that taking the post down will somehow give us all a bit of cleansing. The lessons have been learnt and so shall we move forward.

But now that we’re in the middle of a brooding catastrophe (and this time I hope I’m truly wrong as I love being right), all I can share is that small room of hope inside us all. This is a reminder to us all that we need to gather ourselves and keep strong so that we can help other people. 

In case of a major catastrophic scenario, where will most of us be? I pose a question on myself because of the series of events from the past couple of days which weren’t much except a lot of rain. The first thing I did a day after the family had settled was to go out and be useful. Because I made it out alive. I thought that the fact that I was out there looking for something to do meant that others needed me. Of course I was lost. I NEARLY lost everything, including my dad whom at the time was suffering from a serious condition. 

What can we do at this time except reflect, really? All these material possessions can be replaced, we all know this. But it did not come to me until I had it all happening, seeing the aftermath of the heavens taking it out on us. But take our story for what it is, there is no better value than the lives of the people and the living creatures around us. We cannot solve world famine from happening. We cannot stop Gaia from crying tears of pain for all that we’ve singlehandedly done to ruin her, but we can believe in that small room in us that which radiates hope. 

Hope lives inside of us. 

To this minute, I stay awake, waiting for a loved one to come home. I don’t know what the hours will create, but I keep my hopes up. Because right now that’s all I can do.

If we’re safe enough, we stay strong for those who aren’t. When we’re strong enough, we uplift those in need. Lets all keep it together, closely knit. We have been prepared further for something like this. We all know this. We just have to keep remembering that there is a force that pulls people together when they remain with effort to keep That Little Room lit up.

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