Monday, February 22, 2016

That Place Called ...

Looking for inspiration, I found myself back at my University. I am not sure why I keep coming back to these grounds but I seem to always do whenever my mind is wandering. It couldn't have been the happy memories because nothing comes to mind even if I try. So I guess it's the place itself -- the pavements lined with trees, the soft breeze in between buildings, and the blur of passing people oblivious to my presence.

*****
Presence. I like being in the background. I like being able to observe my surroundings without being asked to participate in it. I think I learn more from observing people than from interacting with them. I see perspectives they may or may not be aware of. I hear opinions they may or may not have uttered. When I talk to them, I find that I'm more focused with what I'm portraying than with what they're telling me. It's very unproductive for both but I guess it's also a necessity.

Lately, however, I seem to be making my way to the foreground. I write about my travels in a public blog. I volunteered my time and professional skills with an organization. And I'm sharing more of my stories to my friends. It's largely uncomfortable but I do it anyway.
*****
Comfort. I realize now that school hasn't always been comfortable. I hated the girls in their trendy clothes. I hated the guys in their shorts and boat shoes. I hated the kids conversing in pretentious English. And I hated the cliques blocking the hallways. I wish these are just passing fads but these are actually the people that make my school. I might have been one of them on several occasions and I might or might not have felt good about myself then.

But here I am, sitting on a bathtub-turned-bench sheltered by a cluster of leaves from the afternoon sun and trying to rummage through my thoughts. I'm constantly peeking out at the people passing by, neither hoping for a familiar face nor a friendly smile, but just watching them, and maybe noticing a pair of highlighter-green shoes there, a cute black dress here, an unnecessary pair of shades there.

The cool wind that blows on my face is comforting. It tempts me to indulge in it entirely. But I decide against it and remain half-gazing at my surroundings.

By no means do I call this place "home" -- or any place for that matter. But it has almost always given me the peace that I needed. And for that, I'll keep coming back to these familiar grounds and unfamiliar crowds.

View from within the grounds on a clear Sunday morning




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