Life in Circles and Squares

It is known that with knowledge comes wisdom. This probably supports the idea that education and experiences, whether formal or not, indeed serve as significant tools in shaping wise, insightful, and rational generations of women and men. But isn’t it also true that wisdom gave birth to knowledge? Without the wisdom of free-thinkers, philosophers, and the amalgamation of human experiences in the pursuit of truth, various schools of thought would never have come into existence.

I would like to say that knowledge and wisdom are akin to the universe, as one school of thought suggests: constantly expanding. And both are comparable to circles and squares. If I were to start with a dot to represent either, I would find myself in a continuous loop; except that the former has corners—moments akin to when I must pause to ensure coherence and whether the ‘idea’ makes sense or not. They are finite, akin to the universe yet again. As a human being, my knowledge and wisdom—passed down through generations and unfolding throughout my lifetime—can only traverse so far. Lamentably, the human mind has its limits in the pursuit of truth. Nevertheless, I will continue to search for my truth, much like Nietzsche, while simultaneously accepting it as it is, as Camus said.

Back in 2015, I was a college sophomore studying Biochemistry at the University of Santo Tomas, a Catholic university in Manila, Philippines, when I learned about the two fountains named the Fountain of Wisdom and the Fountain of Knowledge on campus. I was fortunate to have a friend in my block who enjoyed strolling around the campus, giving us time to engage in wide-ranging discussions until around 9:45 in the evening, just before the campus lights turned off. One of our topics was the two fountains flanking the Arch of the Centuries. Later, I discovered that these were the Fountain of Wisdom on the right and the Fountain of Knowledge on the left when facing the España Boulevard. These fountains, alongside the arch, form part of the Plaza Intramuros in UST’s original campus. Each fountain has a woman holding either a circle or a square. My friend and I amusingly guessed that perhaps the circle symbolized wisdom—it being a continuous loop with no limitations—while the square represented knowledge, its corners symbolizing rational constraints.

To this day, I remain unsure which of the fountains represents Knowledge or Wisdom. Yet, this idea instilled in me a deeper appreciation for wisdom and knowledge in life. Like these two shapes, the two are a continuous and infinite set of points.

There’s no halting at present; my existence lies within a circle and square. All I need to do is create another set of points of either shape, whether it encapsulates or is encapsulated by the present.

Life, indeed, embodies a lifetime of patterns—circles and squares—often enclosing the other and vice versa.

Of Crystals and Spirituals

Letting go is such a brave thing to do, and though I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I can’t keep shooting in the dark. Hence, I hold on to something that could at least give me a little certainty. Only then, will, I let go.

I was so grateful to have spent time with Madee two Saturdays ago. We painted, sipped wine, and talked for hours about the constant anxiety and societal pressure to figure things out early or keep ourselves busy. We then talked about our personal lives, and I mentioned my recent fascination with tarot cards (which she reads and is quite good at) and past life regression. However, she discouraged me from trying the latter.

I do feel pressured but don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with what I have. In fact, I’m very grateful. I’m happy to be in law school because it will help me become the person I want to be. I’m happy to be in DOH because I get to work on one of my life’s advocacies: public health. I’m happy to have short moments with my loved ones and time for leisure such as this. What more could I ask for? All I need is to survive and enjoy life.

But that’s the thing, how do I survive and enjoy it when I can’t just live simply? I’m expected, as we all are, to do well and work under the guidance and direction of multiple voices telling me to do this and that. Nonetheless, I am an independent thinker. Though people tell me a lot of things, I still end up doing what I want and what I think is right.

But then again, I still get crippled by fear sometimes because of those expectations. What if I don’t make it? What if I don’t meet my goals? And though when asked who expects me to be and do it, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because even though people say no one’s forcing or pressuring anyone, the subtle expression of prejudice after a failure, detour, or change in course is apparent. Maybe it’s through gazes, auras, energy, or microaggressions from people, or sudden changes in their treatment towards me—or maybe it’s just the cynicism in me.

As such, over time, I have become a more calculating person, always considering the chances and probability of things. I developed a constant urge to have control over my life and even control over people around me while resisting being controlled. I guess you can say I’m a control freak. However, the more control I exert over something, the more devastating its impact on me when things don’t turn out the way I had envisioned. That’s how I got into fortune-telling, tarot readings, horoscopes, and even past-life regression.

While I was raised in a Born-Again Christian family, aside from prayers and church services, I found solace in the company of the spiritual world in general. At some point, the broadness of tarot readings and predictions validated my wishful thinking and alleviated my collective anxiety and depression. Although sometimes, I resort to something more unusual and, as my friends describe it, dangerous—past life regression.

And honestly, if someone were to ask me, I’m actually not a believer of the spiritual aspect but I’d more want to believe that there’s just an energy that emanates through it. I think I believe in that aspect where there is a literal and unfathomable occurrence of the transfer of electrons that science has not yet discovered—maybe.

One thing that I am sure of is that if people ever asked me to stop because I don’t even believe in fortune-tellers, crystals, tarots, and the like, I’d tell that at least they remind me that in this unsureness, there is a probability, even a little probability, that good things that I at least expect may happen, may still happen. Like when Madee gave me a selenite crystal, and two bracelets – chatoyant and onyx – which, in a sense, assured me that from this day on, I’d be more at peace, comforted, and healed. It somehow made me loosen my grip a bit and let my life breathe a little, as the tarot reading says “Hey Telly! Tomorrow’s going to be a good day, only if you control your temper,” to remind me right?

At some point, it gave me the courage to let go of the stubborn yearning to control everything. Letting go is such a brave thing to do, and though I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I can’t keep shooting in the dark. Hence, I hold on to something that could at least give me a little certainty. Only then, will, I let go. It gave me the courage to let go and just trust my connections, my circumstances, and my luck – because I have the crystal and the spirituals say so – while I myself make things happen through my actions, decisions, and even disposition.

After Beauty and Terror

It has been more than a year since I last wrote about something personal. Perhaps, life got busy with law school, work, and relationships. Now, I find myself reflecting on the duality of life: the moments of beauty and terror.

I never thought that there could be something more heartbreaking, and there would be also more beautiful, than in 2021. Looking back at last year, it was overwhelming and boring, exciting and frightening all at once.

That year, I lost my sister. She had simply been there for over two decades of my life, living each day like most of us. Suddenly, she was gone, and now, I will never have the chance to talk to her again. It was a painful and weird experience. Some days, my emotions would overflow, while on others, reality would slap me, and I would have no choice but to accept it and stare at her empty room of darkness and silence. It is strange, this inexplicable hurt that lingers, leaving no tears, only discomfort in my throat and chest. I cannot even acknowledge the pain, only emptiness.

But in 2022, I also made friends and connections. I learned to commute around Manila without using a car, manage my time better, survive every semester while working, and become more assertive. I also got to travel and maybe, grew as a person. I learned to appreciate and cherish the time with my loved ones more. There was terror, but then there was a beauty.

Perhaps, that is just how it is–2022. There were days when I felt hopeless and other days when I felt grateful. Once again, beauty and terror.

Having already surpassed two months of 2023, probably, it is time for me to learn what comes after Rilke’s words, “Beauty and Terror”. I must slowly teach myself to keep going, for no feeling is final.

Dwarf

The sun at quarter to 4 in the afternoon. 2 January 2022.

2021, like the other previous years, broke me while a part of it decorated me whole again as well. But it was of a different level. That year forced me to accept my failures, reflect upon things I had kept on cultivating but only cornered me up the creek without a paddle, humble myself, and remind myself again of the reality that the world does not revolve around me. I am not the sun.

2021 was not about me. It was not about the things I could offer to the world but about the strangers, the people close to home — it was just their time. It was the pain existence had inflicted on me and the unexpected love from them (the people) which healed me. It was the other people’s, on the other side of this conscious existence, time to offer something for me, take care of me, and complement to my crests and troughs — but mostly the latter. Nonetheless, I am grateful. Again, I am not the sun.

2021 perhaps was a time of distance, silence, just like the stars. Perhaps, I was a sky of stars, gazed at by those who wanted comfort, clarity, tranquility in the cold, quiet night. The sky of stars — despite its distance and its thousands of stars running out of chemicals — is loved, admired, and explored. The sky of stars is for the people who wanted solace. I get it, as likewise, I needed it too.

But this year, I want to be the sun, but not in the ways I used to think and do. I want to give light and life; I want to go back to the drawing board and give back.

I can still be like those stars when needed though; anyway, the sun is also a star — just a dwarf.