One again with the gods

It’s 5 A.M. when streaks of light start painting the sky with shades of pinks and purples. As we hike further, the sky turns from hazy burgundy to rose, then to rich yellow. Some of us pause to take that treasured snap; some just lovingly stare at the riot of colors. By the time we reach the peak, we are face to face with the sun. Everything the light touches turns golden — the grass, our skins, our hairs. And everything I do is stitched with its color.

Finally, I let go of my backpack and the worldly worries I have been carrying are no more. Money? Politics? Climate change? War? All gone. This is what I live for. To experience the feeling of returning home. Neither my labored breaths nor my shaky steps will hinder this renewal. I am one again with the gods.

Word count: 144

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In response to dVerse’s Prosery hosted by Lisa, who asks us to write a prose of 144 words using a given line from a poem. Today’s line is Everything I do is stitched with its color taken from W.S. Merwin’s “Separation”.

This challenge immediately took me back to my 2019 climb at Mt. Wiji. Sunrise in this mountain is still — by far — the best one I have witnessed. The low quality photo above which I took from my old phone may not give it justice, but hopefully these words will do.

Click here to join the prompt!

When Life Gives You Quarantine, Think Green

In a world plagued by seemingly endless news about death, corruption, economic collapse and ill-causing vibes, can planting a seed be a salve to our saddened hearts?

I have seen a sudden surge of home gardening projects among my friends in the past months and weeks. People are growing indoor plants, succulents, flowers, herbs, fruit trees, vegetables — even root crops! Some do it as a way to de-stress, to fight boredom and to stay sane. Some just want to be self-sufficient and grow their own groceries. Others, find it a reignited passion.

It seems like plants, in a way, have brought people together despite being apart.

Monday Musings: Extra Baggage

I remember this climb. In the darkness of the dawn, we hiked in full packs between huffs, pants and coughs. I remember asking myself, why did I have to bring so much load? I should have left that extra shirt. I should have left that extra jacket. Did I really need an extra pair of pants? As the earth gradually piled up under my feet, I realized that climbing mountains is not so different from living life.

Truth is much of what weigh me down are not mine to carry — the troubles of the world, other people’s problems, inexistent futures and such. Like how I pack for a climb, I also tend to carry things that does not fit. Things that I should have outgrown and moved on with. Like emotions and memories.

Some nights, my knees and chin almost touch as I lay curled on the bed. Tired of living. But just like mountain climbing, no matter how hard the climb (and life) is, the peak will always be worth it. Those moments of ups and downs will not be wasted if we take every step by heart.

And I hope what I felt when I ascended 2819.78 MASL to reach the summit of Mt. Wiji — that pure happiness and bliss — will be just the same when I reach the summit of my years. I want to be able to let go of all those extra baggage in the end. Arms wide open, surrendering to the beauty of nature. To the beauty of life.