“Where am I? How do I know it? What am I going to do about it?” Ayn Rand, a writer and philosopher, pointed out in her famous speech ( Philosophy: Who Needs It? read: http://fare.tunes.org/liberty/library/pwni.html ) that the answers to these three questions direct what kind of life one will live. As a young and fiery teenager many years ago, these questions became my own personal guiding star as to what my ideals are and how I would want to live my life.
Where am I? I saw myself as in a world filled with inequalities. Children are in the streets throwing away their young lives. Adults instead of being good role models are spending their days in hedonisms—the rich ones do what they can with their money; some poor ones do not care because they are busy finding out how to survive or escape the harsh reality of a life of toil. And the vicious cycle goes on and on. The kind of education we have even perpetuates this injustice. The better-off ones, being schooled, get more access to the social ladder. While those who can’t study are nailed to their sorry state—as if destined to be the worker ants. And those in high precincts of power use their knowledge and position to rob the people’s money to enjoy the passing fancies of the world, deaf to the cries of the hungry and the dying instead of being the champion of their causes.
I saw myself in a jungle, where trees are buildings and animals are people devoid of souls.
How do I know it? Having lived without the comforts of wealth and private education, I was sure that what I see is no illusion. And even though I knew that I did not know everything, what I see is real.
As a kid in elementary, I never considered myself poor. Money is not the sole gauge of poverty. I lived a relatively sheltered life compared to my neighbors only because I never was deprived of what I need—food, home, school. We were brought up, my siblings and I, by my parents and lola in the concept that material wealth is way below the list of requisites to living life fully. Money is important, true. But it can never tell who is more human and not. A person is never measured by what he or she has in their pockets or in the brand of clothing. A person’s worth is in how he or she values family, honor, God; and how he or she respects others. All people are equal regardless of what they have or do not have materially; regardless of education and of their place in the socio-economic ladder. All human beings possess the same and equal dignity. I count it a blessing being born in Onyx Street, what my former workmates refer to as the twilight zone of danger. Where I live for a great part my life, I saw life without filters, unadulterated and real.
What am I going to do about it? I can still remember when I was in primary school, I told my lola that my dream is to be a Philippine president. I wanted to make a difference to the lives of my fellow men. In grade two or three I think, my dream was to become a police woman so that I can go after criminals who take advantage of the powerless. In grade four, I would like to be a member of the Alex Boncayao Brigade so that I can get rid of corrupt government officials and corrupt policemen. In grade six, I would like to be a journalist to expose the same corrupt officials and policemen without the trouble of becoming a criminal myself. In high school, I wanted to be a fashion designer but the warning bells of my idealistic mind told me that fashion designers only help well-off people who does not care about others and only care about how they look. I shunned it. In college, while lying in the dying grass of the campus quadrangle and watching stars when evenings are balmy or clouds in the afternoons with my friends, I dreamed of becoming an artist—a film maker, a writer, a musician, a painter. So that I can make people see or hear the voices outside the perfumed precincts of the little world they boxed themselves in.
Fast forward to the present, I am convinced that things will not change, at least see it in my lifetime. I can never change the world. I can never eradicate the loneliness. I can never fill people’s stomachs. I can never chase away the pain in their hearts or the sickness of their bodies. I can only do what I can. I can only do small things to make a few people be a millionth bit happier even for a day. I can only listen to some of them who want to have someone to share their troubles with. I can only help them to believe in themselves. I can only whisper prayers. I can only give a bit of hope by showing I care. I have also met beautiful souls along this journey who have further inspired me to follow my personal legend, however foolish it may seem. I have learned that it is not helpless and hopeless afterall. There are many still who live for others. There are many people out there who live life to the full by living not just for themselves. The glass is not half empty but half-filled.
Where am I? How do I know it? What am I going to do about it? I am in a world, imperfect and flawed. I am in a world mired in poverty—only—the poverty is not in money, but a poverty of love, character and hope. If only all people have love in their hearts, it will be hard to steal and be corrupt; there will be solidarity between the rich and the poor. If only all people have character, it will be hard to rape or murder or rob… If only there is hope, people will not stop trying to make things better. I am in a world imperfect and flawed; and in the same way beautiful and glorious in its struggle to be.
In many points of the journey, I have lost myself. I have forgotten how it is to dream. And as Fantine said, “Life killed the dream.” I would like to learn to dream again. And I am learning. I will not give up. I would like to believe that they do come true. I would like to believe that miracles can be real. And that little as I am, I can make a difference in the lives of others. And while doing my share to give happiness to others, I can be happy too. I pray that I will also never be poor of love and that I could have a generous heart—always understanding and patient. I pray that I would be a person of character who will practice and strive to live according to my beliefs with or without people knowing it. I pray that I can always have hope. It is tiring to believe. It is tiring to have faith. And all I can turn to is the grace that God, who in his greatness, will never give up on me even though I am giving up on myself.
My prayer is that I can live a life that matters; that my life will not be solely just my own—that there will be people who have become happier, who have lived better lives, who have loved more, albeit even for a gazillionth bit, because I have lived. I pray that even though I have not become a Philippine president, an assassin, a policeman, a journalist, a film maker—even though most of my dreams have not come true—I still made a difference and will.