some months ago, a friend and i went to an accoustic night somewhere in mother ignacia. it was actually the reunion of the alliance that we were part of, and we had come as representatives of our organization.

thus, it was no ordinary musical night. there were tables set for everyone and there was food served. on each of the tables were glasses that held large blue candles that illuminated the dark backdrop. the place looked beautiful.

we didn't know most of the people there, though. fortunately, we saw a couple of people from our college and sat with them. we talked, listened to the music, wolfed down our dinner. however, people from our table started leaving at around midnight. though i also wanted to, i couldn't because my dormitory closes at exactly midnight. it was either i go home earlier than that or i spend the night elsewhere.

i stayed, as well as my friend who had decided to accompany me. a couple of hours past midnight, the bands stopped playing and people started going home too. the ones who didn't were just lounging and visiting with each other, but we didn't know them, so we had no choice but to stay in our table.

to fight the urge to sleep, we started playing with the candles. we poured some iced tea into the glass and teased the burning wick of the candle with shreds of paper. it didn't take long before the flame grew bigger and rose way, way up the glass, so that people from other tables started looking our way.

because the flames were getting too big, we feared that the glass might explode, so we started blowing at the flames, but it wouldn't die. we couldn't hold the glass either because it was so hot, so my friend got a cardboard (or a piece of thick cloth, i can't remember now), got hold of the glass, took it from the table, placed it on the floor, and stepped on its mouth. finally, the reluctant flames died.

when he got hold of the glass again to put it back to the table, we were amused to see that only half of it was in his hand. the bottom half was left on the floor. the heat had been too much; it softened the glass enough to be so vulnerable to touch.

when we saw that, we started laughing no end. when the laughter died down, however, we noticed one thing: the broken pieces were beautiful nevertheless.
the borders were rough, but still, they didn't look like a product of two people's stupidity. the bottom half, which held the remains of the candle, looked like those beautiful scented candles and paperweights sold in department stores.

we christened the thing our surreal art. we didn't mean to break the glass, but it got broken somehow. but it didn't come out ugly. i thought about what happened when i got home and even days after, and i realized something.

i myself have been broken many times, but, like that glass, i have discovered that beauty doesn't reside in perfection, in the perfect flow of things. it is born, instead, in the interplay of many colors, bright and dark, in the roar of the storm and in the glow of sunflowers, in the mixture of the good and the bad.

doesn't a painter create a beautiful picture using many colors from his palette? in photography, the most beautiful pictures are those that show the most striking contrasts. my teacher often reminded us that whites will never be whites without the blacks.

i have learned that we cannot control other people's actions and words, but we can control our own reactions to them. thus, we are still in control of everything that happens in our lives. it is difficult, but it can be done.

i have also found comfort in asking "what can i learn from this?" instead of hating and blaming other people. the day i learned to ask that question was the day i learned to soar.

we are all our own masterpeices of art. it is said that a woodcarver doesn't create a figure out of a block of wood. he sees, instead, something inside it and hammers the unnecessary pieces away to discover the beautiful figure already enshrined in the wood. this happens to us too. only, we are our own woodcarvers.

i just wanted to share this wonderful gift that two wonderful people made for me.

take a peek at my birthday blog.

to you both, thank you so much!! *hugs*

wil post a birthday entry later today.. :)

of all the gifts i have, there is one i am most thankful for.

my tears can heal my own wounds; silent, unmoving, and dignified. at night, when the rest of the world sleeps, i do my own healing, so that when i wake up, i can be whole again.

each new morning, out of the ashes, i rise, with my wings stronger, my feathers brighter. thus, like my father jupiter, i shall see no end.