(1)
On the shelf built into the top of my study table is my copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, which is essentially the diary of a former Roman emperor—I’m not sure how amused he would’ve been to find out that hundreds of millions of strangers are reading his most intimate thoughts.
In between its pages is a postcard, which has now been transformed into a bookmark. On its front side is a painting of a scented candle made by Pahulay, a candle business my friend Zaila started over the pandemic. My mom loved buying Pahulay candles and scents from Zaila, before it recently had to close shop. They were the perfect Christmas gifts for her friends.
On its backside is a short letter from Zaila, which she closes with, “Here’s to always choosing the non-boring option!” I would read this line every time I opened Meditations, and it feels like this warm prelude before diving deep into the thoughts of a dead emperor.
(2)
A couple of months ago, I was having a quick catch-up over Telegram with my friend Jaymes. I call him “Shrim,” which is short for his last name Shrimski, because I have too many Jameses is my life.
We have always had this funny ability to trigger and navigate through the beginnings and ends of existential crises with each other. Many of these conversations would begin with the subject of our age. Late twenties—one would think it’d feel much more adult than this. While our other friends were busy with marriage plans, engagements, and kids on the way, we felt rather behind on these relationship-related buckets of life.
But as usual, we found a way to talk ourselves out of these mental traps. On some occasions such as that conversation, we would end with a rather poignant realization about the nature of our predicament. We concluded that “living fully” is what counts, “Exp exp lang.” It’s all about the experience. And judging the progress we’ve made on our lives with this standard, I think we’ve done quite well for ourselves. He agreed.
(3)
My last relationship ended in what I could only describe as the most mature breakup I’ve ever been a part of. I would go as far as saying it was the most peaceful one I’ve ever heard of. Lots of thank-you-for-everythings and I’m-grateful-for-yous and I’ll-miss-yous. No hate, no bitterness—OK, maybe some bitterness, I mean, the whole thing wasn’t exactly something we looked forward to.
But there was also a lot of kindness and respect for each other and for the relationship that was. We were grateful for it. “A blip in the timeline,” we agreed it was.
I look back and that’s exactly right. Not everything in this life is meant to last its entirety, and this is by no means a tragic reality. We carry our past as we move forward. And it doesn’t have to be heavy.
Since then, I’ve reflected on all the other blips I’ve experienced in this lifetime. The more I think about it, the more I realize, there are so many.
(4)
My parents and I often joke around about our superpowers. They have this ability stop the rain for their convenience, just like X-Men’s Storm, but in reverse. For instance, it would rain while they were en route to a certain place, then it would stop just in time for when they had to step out of the car. No need for an umbrella.
These jokes resurfaced in a recent trip to QuanZhou, which is where my grandparents lived before sailing for the Philippines. I warned my parents of my phone’s rainy weather forecast, but they remained undeterred. And they were right to be, of course. Besides a short-lived but steady pour at one of the temples we visited—which we were quick to shelf simply as a “test of our faith”—our trip was completely rainless. In fact, it was a bit too rainless for my taste. Too much Sun.
I, too, boast of my superpower when I hang out with my parents. I tell them, I have perfect timing. Even when I’m late for something, it’s because I’m on time for something better. I remind them of this as we arrive just on time for the ferry’s last trip of the day, which we had no clue was the last trip until we got to the port. Perfect timing, I remind them, they were lucky to have been traveling with me.
But of course, one could analyze these “powers” and simply attribute them to hyper-awareness or even mindfulness. We only see the signs we’re looking for, right? And maybe that’s the point. Seeing is believing, but maybe believing precedes seeing.
Like a six-year-old wanting to be the next president or an astronaut, I make various other claims such as these to may parents all the time. And their response is always validation and not one tinge of doubt, which I think is their true superpower.
*I’ve always believed that the divine speaks to us through the people in our lives. Listening is optional, but I’d recommend it.