Frost and Roads





What did Frost mean when he said, "I took the one less traveled by"?
How does one define roads? And what is it to travel?

I haven't been to many places. But I do know that in the few places I have arrived at, I take to heart the small details: fern colors that are not green but maroon, the air smelling of fresh Chinese pechay, rocks piled up creating this tapestry of texture, bird call amidst the roaring falls of Tres Aguas, soda crackers and 3-in-1 coffee lovingly served to warm our shivering bodies while the wind and rain continues its tirade outside, our breath forming white smoke from the cold. And best of all, goodbyes that promise an inevitable next time.

So again what did Frost mean? I don't know. But for me, roads are paths that call me out, to notice life more. And travel is one that leaves my body aching in all the muscles that ought to ache, my quads and hamstrings (ha! am I feeling it now!) and of course, the most important muscle of all-- my heart to be full.

More stories soon.

March 30th 2017
Alto Peak Site D
Brgy. Cabintan

Comments

  1. UnknownMay 12, 2017 at 9:08 AM

    I think travel stretches us. It moves us outside of our comfort zone, and like muscles that climb hills, that stretching can be a bit uncomfortable. But, beyond the pain, is the newfound strength and flexibility that comes from stretching, moving, and pushing our limits. I am looking forward to the yoga that will bring you to Texas!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

For the Love of Stories

Image
The sun is high. A warm breeze fills the air. Sparse tufts of clouds are spread throughout the sky.  It is going to be a beautiful day. I just know it. It is the day of the Hi Sandangaw, A Waray Tale storybook launch. As I alight our vehicle, green and silver balloons intertwined set in front of the glass door entrance complete with hanging vines creating a forest-like entry into the venue greet me along with lively chirpings of "Maupay na hapon!" from our Grade 11 student volunteers. As I enter, Hi Sandangaw stands alone on a wooden book stand beside an arrangement of flowers on the registration table. Amina, Melo and Kalipay are spread out as well. I step inside the room and am greeted by this expanse of white light emanating across the entire space. I would like to believe this is the light of good energy one great story brings. Banig is laid out on the floor complete with throw pillows and a bean bag. In the small stage are two potted bamboo plants on both ends. An anima
Read more

The Most Important Question of All

Image
The man stood tall and dignified at the rostrum. Microphone on his right hand, he spoke to us with a sense of honesty and intimacy that can only be described as if there were only five people in the room. As he said the last few lines, there was an unmistakable break in his voice, a holding in of air.  And as he gazed at us, his eyes glistened with emotion. Then applause broke. Inspiration . I tried to explain this concept to our 2nd Graders as I told them Christina Newhard's story of a girl named Amina who could not weave a story in her loom. She tried to find inspiration in the mountains and the sea but still could not find it. And so she went about in the city to find it. "What does inspiration mean?" the students asked me. The closest two words I could share with them that their 7-year-old minds could understand, were "imagination" and "dreams".  Slowly, we  somehow made a connection of how imagination and dreams allowed us to create some
Read more

Once Upon a Time

Image
"Once upon a time..." our teacher would begin. Our school library had pink walls and a triangular floor space. My classmates and I with our little legs and feet would eagerly rush to the room because it was story time. It was my favorite part of the day. It was all our favorite part of the day.  Our teacher would then open a book filled with stories that took us to various wonderlands and worlds so magical we thought were real. During recess or dismissal time, I remember playing with my friends retelling stories and acting out the stories. It didn't matter whether it was about mermaids or fairies we saw from cartoons or the myths passed on from our uncles and aunts. What mattered only was that it enveloped us in this inexplicable and indescribable kind of joy so much so that we lost track of time.  It is astonishing to know how we circle back to what we truly love. Call it calling or ministry. Call it vocation or destiny. While my work with children in the
Read more