This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
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Cupful of Anger,
Bottle Full of Smoke:
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First Sight of Snow
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Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop
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Handulantaw: Celebrating 50 Years of Culture and the Arts in Silliman
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Beautiful Accidents: Stories
University of the Philippines Press, 2011
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National Commission for Culture
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FutureShock Prose: An Anthology of Young Writers and New Literatures
Sands and Coral, 2003
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IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
7:09 PM |
What Comforts Us
A few nights ago, in the middle of doing something I can scarcely remember now, the constant dilemma occupying the uncharted grey regions of my waking moments gripped an instance of my consciousness. It goes about its business the way it always does -- subtly, like a terrible and sly underwater tremor that lets loose a tidal wave of existential despair. The way I express it is always in the form of a prayer, a short one. Not being particularly religious myself, I find some comfort in just uttering this as an address to the Divine. "Why, Lord," I remember asking suddenly that night, my head bowed, my dilemma circling me in the usual pattern. "Why me? Why do I still __________?"
You never really expect concrete answers to queries directed at the void like this. In a sense, I've always understood it as just your psyche trying to deal with the minute disorders that mar your inner tranquilities, with the air as your sounding board.
I did not expect then to have a tiny voice, right near the back of my head, whispering back to me an urgent reply. It was unpremeditated, unexpected. It felt like it was God talking right back to me. And what He said was, "Because I have plans for you, and this is not it."
I jumped at that. Where did it come from?
Do I even trust it? Is it just my unconsciousness providing an answer I already know but cannot bring myself to accept? Who knows? But it was a comforting answer -- and suddenly, to fret about things that are not meant to be just doesn't seem too important anymore. There are other things, perhaps more important, that are there, just waiting for a chance to happen. And all these -- including the unconsolable quiet and the blankness that transcends this time of my life -- these are things that prepare me for the ultimate. What that is I don't know, but I await it like one does a gift. Is this what you call faith?
If so, it feels very much like comfort.
Labels: faith, life, love
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