Refuge

I’ve been scarce lately. Sorry about that. Last week, I buried my nose in a little novel called “Memories of my Melancholy Whores”. Yes, I devoted my free time to Garcia Marquez’ effortless storytelling, guiltless, to distract myself from myself. Reread it to recharge and excite my funny molecules after almost 2 weeks of nerve-racking, back-breaking, mind-numbing virtual battle of wills with somebody up in HQ. It was like two bulls, horns locked in battle, nobody was willing to give up or give in---he wanted world domination, I fought for what is right and logical. Leaving a trail of smoke, he relented, not without protest, as he figuratively picked up his ego on the floor. And learning from lessons of the past, I didn’t rub his nose in his “surrender”…I was magnanimous in my small victory.:D

There was no celebratory coffee at Starbucks with my team, either. I celebrated my own way---by re-reading Garcia Marquez’ seductively funny novella. Reading is my brain-food, my energy booster, like a bowl of hot Bulalo to somebody with a hangover. It usually sends me in the right direction, an invisible hand that guides me along the road, throws light in the dark streets, and gives my weary mind a place to rest. And by cruising along my favorite haunts, in the mood to admire the sleepy world once again under the moon, on the shoulders of the highway.

Driving to places where nature grows refreshes my eyes and invigorates my soul. It gives me an opportunity to pay attention to the small things that accompany my daily journey but overlooked during stressful days. I spent an afternoon listening to the whispered gossip of the leaves, admiring the rhythm of swaying branches from between the pages of "Memories"...filled with Garcia Marquez' delightful and witty exploration of old age and desire, grinning at the author's twisted sense of humor. I am happy again.

It’s my way of coping with life…by creating an oasis of calm and sunshine inside and outside my mind.