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Thanks

I have achieved what I set out to do four years ago, when I left my job and my life in Fredericksburg.  Back then, I was blogging about adventures in the forests in Virginia, exploring the Boracay nightlife, hanging out around old Confederate graveyards, teaching people how to build bamboo rafts. 

Obviously, a person can’t go through four years of experience and emerge unchanged.  But…

"It’s not the years, honey; it’s the mileage."

So correct.  Time wasn’t the factor here; it was the places and people that changed things.  It was that hotel room in UP Diliman; it was a bus ride to Sablan; a conversation about post-structuralism; a purple patch and a goat; an Indian named Sallah who hated Singapore; a roller-coaster and a kiss;a Vietnamese girl sitting on the top of a building; eavesdropping on a museum tour in Hong Kong; it was every seven minute high.  It was all the crazy little things that somehow add-up to become the me that is me. 

But all this, all these things, wouldn’t have been what they are if there was one person who didn’t get the ball rolling, who– although it didn’t seem that way at the beginning– became the cause for my coming here and finding all this.  The last email she sent me before I left for the Philippines four years ago:

In Summer’s Heart two rivers met and
sang of life together,
Their tunes were twined,
Their friendship set,
To part they promised
never,
The First one sang of laughter How
Joyous was her tune!
She sparkled clear, flowing ever
faster, beneath the stars and moon.
The second sang of valor the noble
chords rang clear,
His path was that of searching honor,
on roads that one would fear.
Her path was growing faster and more
clear,
The other river was waiting for his opportunity to come near,
She started to leave him because she
had to work for her own,
He sat back trying to make his path
and knew that neither could do it alone.
But still the other was a fighter and
had to do it her own way,
He sat there waiting for her to pass
by his way,
Then one day the other river realized
how empty her song was,
She called it quits and said
forget the past what’s done is done.
Now our two rivers are back with
each other singing of life again,
Yet he must go to lands were she dose
not know and hopes to see him again,
He had his pack packed and his feet
are ready to go yet he knows that there is never good bye,
For on a busy road in crowded street
or a quite place some were the other will catch their eye.
What will become of these two friends?
This cannot be the end.
But I have faith in our composer that our songs
will bring us even closer,
True and faithful ’till the end.

Well, thanks Kelli.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 11th, 2008 at 2:28 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

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