On my two feet at the foot of the mountain in the Philippines

I could still taste the scent of dewdrops coming alive with the early morning. I could still hear the

moonlight radiant in the young night sky. I could still smell the bliss of a seemingly carefree walk from

the rooms to the cafeteria through the growing grass and then the fresh gravel. I could still feel the

sound of the earth beneath my every footstep. I could still see the reflection of the warm orange

postlight within everyone’s eyes.

 

The clouds are lower, less out of reach, more real. The space between heaven and earth seemed smaller,

giving me the illusion—and hope—that my dreams, indeed, are not that far away. The soil is firmer, less

gray, more real. The space between me and the soil seemed smaller, giving me the impression—and

strength—that I, indeed, am a part of this world.

The hearty earth, the soulful sky, make up the being called the world. Fire, water, air, and the earth

compose the world. My heart and my soul make up a being called me, a person. I am a little world, too.

Fire, water, air and the earth compose me. My energy inside me is my fire, every teardrop I shed my

water, every breath I take my air, and every part of me, my own earth. I am my own

person. I am the world’s. Here, I, one little world, is one with the Earth. I feel strong. I feel hopeful. And

for all these, I feel grateful.

I feel strong when I feel like I can do anything. I feel hopeful when I feel like I can do more than anything.

And I feel grateful when I feel strong and hopeful.

As the world moves, I do too. I move the world. I could move the world. The world never stops moving. I

never do, too. I am relentless, rebellious. I am restless, unstoppable. I turn and I tilt. I shift and I am in

control. I am all that’s ever known and I am yet to be discovered. I am living. I have life, I am life. I am a

hero.

To feel like I’ve taken over the world, I’d want to move mountains of South America, climb the highest

peaks of the Himalayas, see the high and mighty pyramids of Egypt, rock Stone Henge, fall in love with

the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and balance myself over the Great Wall of China. But more than that, I want to

feel like the world’s taken over me, and I am part of it.

I want to move mountains. I want to conquer them, be at the top of each and every one. Never have I

imagined wanting to stay in one. All because I am a mover, a step-taker. But at the foot of Mt. Isarog, I

have found myself planting my two feet. And there and then, I have grown up and I have blossomed. I

have reaped the fruits of all that I have been and all that I have worked hard for. I have become a

sunflower looking up at the sun, and thus, I have become a little sun. I bring light and life because I am

light and life.

At the foot of Mt Isarog, where the grass is greener, the dewdrops are clearer, the flowers are brighter,

the butterflies and bees livelier, the rains are rainier, and the sun is sunnier,–where earth has found its

home—I have found mine.

At the foot of Mt. Isarog, I have learned how to fly high while keeping my foot on the ground. I have

learned to stand up for myself. I have learned to lift my feet off the ground and hope to the skies. At the

foot of Mt. Isarog, I have learned to soar high and stay down to earth at the same time.

Green leaves turn to orange. That drop in the ocean turns to a drop in the rain. Everything turns to

something else. As leaves now fall from the corners of the world as the rain continues to fall in the

center, I hope things fall into place. I pray that I may have the strength through my falls and my springs.

As I leave the mountain I am most grateful for and go to places that may or may not be its paradox, may

I bring it with me.

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