I Would's

I would fall for you

just as leaves fall from trees in autumn

or sunbeam lands on my windows in the morning.

It'll be patient and spontaneous,

it'll be in the proper time.

I would know you

just as my eyes read unfamiliar words in books

and my mouth tastes new dishes in a restaurant.

You would be there,

and I would be here.

Our limbs frozen, stuck in the ground

but our eyes would see beyond

as our hearts find each other.

I would dream of you,

as you would dream of me.

We would both feel that we could be

though we would know we could never be sure

until we choose to try,

and we won't help but choose to.

Why don't you love reading books?

Reading books used to bore me.

I'm not a born book lover. It's not the first tool I held when I was a kid. I honestly thought that reading was a waste of time. How could you be sitting all day with just a book in your hands (Perhaps, you could now imagine how energetic I was when I was a kid)?

I remember, we used to have a mini library inside the house. By "mini" I mean the last (bottom) drawer in the filing cabinet. It was filled with books such as Goosebumps, fairy tale books and a lot of "choose your own adventure." We (my sisters and cousins) even made this cute hello kitty library card with our names on it. I can recall, my sisters used their library cards a lot. And I think I used mine once.

Looking at myself today, I can say that my perspective turned topsy turvy. If you would open my bag any day during the week, you would see a book in it. I always bring a book with me not because I want to put weight on my bag and build muscles but because I tend to read everytime I find a slightest dead time. Today, I am that kind of kid that the little Elaine thought was boring because I could manage to sit or stay in a corner all day with just a book in my hands. Suddenly, reading itself becomes a dwelling place for me. I love it.

It all started when I finished college. Fountainhead fell on my hands, then Mitch Albom's, then Paulo Coehlo's, then more classics especially Sherlock Holmes (my faaavorite!) and then self-help's. I cannot say it's the exact order but I'm certain it started with Fountainhead by Ayn Rand (Oh, just how I adored Howard Roark!) and was ignited by Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (That genius everybody knows is rude is actually a face of passion). Later on, I found myself cherishing the aroma of freshly printed pages and sensing the weight of the book in my palms. I just developed a vice, and it's a good one.

Suddenly, I came to appreciate how a book brings me to places, such where I've never been and will ever be; how it lets me meet new people, who I know aren't real but feels otherwise; how it personally involves me in somebody else's life without actually intervening or affecting it; and how it can totally put me into somebody's mind and body and feel what he/she feels, see what he/she sees and think what he/she thinks.

It's strange, isn't it? It's like intentionally triggering autism whatsoever. But actually, books helped me keep my sanity in the real world. They opened my eyes, widened my perspective and deepened my thinking. Why that effect? Because books are just the written version of some people's thoughts. However, the magic of words makes a reader take a peek inside these people's heads. What if that's the head of a genius?

The Single Dot Metaphor

Inwardly, I am a problematic person. By that I mean, I feel I've become a problem myself because I usually THINK I got an awful lot of 'difficult' things to deal with. Well, surely there are a bunch of people out there who think like me (I'm just trying to console myself). Anyhow, the point is we are the ones who create our own problems. A psychologist/writer, M. Scott Peck, said in his book The Road Less Traveled that the things that mar us or affect us emotionally are what we repute as problems. Thus, the question is: however bad the situation you're into may seem, would you allow it to emotionally deface you?

One day, in the middle of a diversion, I realized that M. Scott Peck stated a downright truth which deserves a second thought. I came to put it in analogy with the 'single dot metaphor.' I remembered that several times in my life, I looked at that one tiny dot in the middle of a white sheet of paper. That I've become, metaphorically, too "OC" or "Obsessive Compulsive" to notice the single dot and ignore the vast clean space around it. I rigidly thought that the paper isn't 'clean' anymore because of that speck of dirt. And as I erased one dot, another filled in a little space. Then, another dot, and another, and more. I was overwhelmed by the seemed-to-be-black-nits on the paper, but I ignored the empty space which remained wider than them.

Sometimes we tend to focus too much on a problem. We don't know that the more we look at it, the bigger it gets (or so it would seem). The more we submerge our thoughts in it, the more we become emotionally involved in the problem. More so, we usually forget that life isn't perfect. That in life, there's no such thing as 'clean slate.' What solely exists is 'perspective.' Change your perspective, and you'll change your life. Don't get too swayed by failures; look at your successes. Allow yourself to falter; it will help strengthen your knees. Get hurt, and feel the pain - it only means you're still alive. Behold the brighter side of life. To a positive mind, the heart listens.

By this, I recommend the following books. Look 'em up in Bookstores!

• Your Best Life Begins Each Morning by Joel Osteen
• Make Today Count by John C. Maxwell
• How Your Words Can Change Your World by Bo Sanchez

The Books Told me What Passion is

The first thing I did after I took the licensure exam was indulge myself in reading. I really did miss the chimerical world of literature; moreover, I missed reading books of my own choice. I even created a Goodreads account, just so to see new releases, reviews and prospect books I may soon read.

Fussy reader as I was, I felt that the novels I've read rendered profound effects in me. One remarkable abstraction which I think I've imbibed from books was passion - starting from Ayn Rand's Howard Roark (The Fountainhead) and Hank Rearden (Atlas Shrugged) to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous Sherlock Holmes. I realized that there was a resounding implication of passion that was personified in these brilliant fictional characters. I was moved by how they fought for, come hell or high water, and lived with what they love doing. They found joy in honing their skills. They found a reason for existence. In the end, these characters turned out to be, not only the experts in their field, but also the happiest men who ever lived. What would the world be if filled with passionate men? 

And so, I tried searching for that wonderful thing in me. They say, it's innate. People only have to find it in them.

The very first thing I did was ask myself, "What sort of person do I want to become someday?" I wrote down my answers to my journal notebook then reflected on them. Initially, I felt hopeless for I found my answers to be bum and indecisive. I, then thought of Google. I opened my laptop and made some research. Halloa! I found these:

• How to Know if Your Dreams are God's Dreams by Bo Sanchez. (This is an eBook. Grab here a copy for free!)
• Passion test and advice from the Attwood couple.
• 11 Incredibly Simple Ways to Find Passion, Right Now by Henri Juntilla.

I obeyed the instructions indicated in the reading materials. I internalized everything it said. I tried to take Attwood's passion advice by heart. Plus, I talked to my sisters and cousin about this. I, as well, asked for God's help.

Aaaaand, alas! I found my passion.