One day you
finally knew
what you had
to do, and began,
though the
voices around you
kept shouting
their bad
advice—
though the
whole house
began to
tremble
and you felt
the old tug
at your
ankles.
"Mend my
life!"
each voice
cried.
But you
didn't stop.
You knew what
you had to do,
though the
wind pried
with its
stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their
melancholy
was terrible.
It was
already late
enough, and a
wild night,
and the road
full of fallen
branches and
stones.
A friend asked me, "Where do you see
yourself five years from now?"
The easiest answer is "I'll be five years
older," but that's dry humor at its best, and probably not the most
appropriate response to a serious (I think) question.
I guess I haven’t really thought about it a lot,
which could either mean that a) I’ve been too busy with the present to pay
attention to the future, or b) I don’t particularly care. Either reason is sad,
and a little irresponsible, too.
And so, it got me thinking (which eventually led to
a headache, but that’s a story for another day). My best friend Potch and used
to talk about going into business—a café with a bookshoppe, or a bookshoppe
with a café, or even without the café, really, just the bookshoppe will do—a
couple of times. Except that we're both Literature majors, and although my mom
is a superb businesswoman, I think I take after my dad more, and therefore will
probably not be able to sustain the business without the help of people who
know how to actually run it. But it's a thought that’s stayed in my mind for a
while now, something I even discussed with my mom a few years back, and she’s
supportive, really, so at least I’m sure we’ll have one regular customer?
And then I realize, I want to run a mini-library.
No, seriously. For kids. Because although I'm technically bad with children, I
want to give them youngsters a chance to experience the joys of reading while
they’re still young. Especially in this day and age, when it’s so easy to be
distracted with television, computer games, and the Internet. Because there’s a
different kind of magic in holding an actual book and flipping through its
pages, smelling the scent of paper and ink, that you can’t experience when
reading an e-book using Kindle or an iPad (not that I’m against e-books,
because I’m not). Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I’ve been hording
children’s books and YA novels for the past, oh, say, seven years? Of course, a
community library sounds cool and ambitious, but I will need a good spot (the
rent has to be reasonable, of course), and people who share the same vision,
more or less. And money. Maybe in a few years. Somewhere in Marikina, perhaps,
near our church. Or in Pasig. Hmm.
And then something theater-related. I once had this
thought, just a passing fancy, really, of setting up a community theater, or a small
theater school, for kids. But then I have to take an MA on theater arts first,
and I don’t think that’s happening in the near future. Well, my sister has a
degree in Education, so I can bully her into handling the teaching/academic
side of things. Or something. But I think this is a dream that I really would
want to work on—to train kids, help them mold their skills not only in acting,
but in different fields as well. Something that can help them later on in life.
Oh, wouldn’t that be awesome?
But, I think, what I really want to do, wherever
five years from now finds me, is to be able to give back to the Lord. Whether
it be by providing the best service one can have in our bookshoppe/café, or by
providing kids with books that inspire (or mentally scar them for life,
although I sincerely hope this would not be the case), or by training children
to better prepare themselves for whatever dream they wish to pursue (and hone
their acting skills, to boot). If by doing these little things, I can give
glory to God, well, wouldn’t that be the most amazing thing ever?
Well, we’ll see in five years’ time then J
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
–“The Journey,” Mary Oliver
