I could have been the ripple

That reached very far

In the pool of compassion;

I could have been the dream

That inspired hope to soar

From the void of drunken stupor;

I could have been the hymn

That enthused peace to ease

The pain of tortured spirits;

I could have been the tiny spark

That lighted the dark alleys

Of restless souls’ meanderings;

If only I didn’t die;

If only I didn’t succumb

To diseased silence.

//Sherma E. Benosa

27 June 2008; 10:47pm

 Half-bewildered, half-suspecting someone was pulling his leg, the figure looked to his left and right, and realized that he wasn’t alone; that he shared the stage with several other beings — puppets, marionettes, dolls, and stick figures — who, like him, had no idea why they were there.

It was as he turned to his right that the figure noticed something peculiar: the arena where he and the other beings were to perform had no seats for spectators.

AFTER HOURS OF walking to and fro the stage — many times crossing paths, a few times colliding, and sometimes walking alongside the others — the figure just knew, though he couldn’t explain how, that he was being called off the stage. So he delivered his last lines, bowed to the other beings, and started to make his exit. As he retreated to the backstage, he heard some kind of noise erupt. Whether it was a collective applause or booing, he wasn’t sure; he didn’t turn to see.

Reaching the backstage, the figure saw a silhouette making weird gestures as though he was conducting an orchestra. Thinking that the silhouette was another actor about to step onto the platform, he gave him a sympathetic look and exclaimed, “Whew! That was some kind of a play. A scriptless one! Would you believe that? And undirected, too. Weird, isn’t it?”

Receiving no response, the figure persisted, “By the way, are you an actor, too?”

The silhouette shook his head, not taking his gaze off the invisible orchestra. “No, I’m the director.”

Stunned, the figure exclaimed, “The director? You are the director? Why then aren’t you directing? I would have been spared of all those collisions. I would not have gotten lost. I would have been able to put in a better performance; I would not have a-fretted and a-strutted upon that weird platform like some kind of a drunk!”

The silhouette momentarily turned his attention to the figure. “I was. You just weren’t listening.”

 [seb/july2005]

Re-posted to cap my "Life Is..." series.

If you notice, that is this blog’s new tagline.

More than a week ago, I decided to change my header, and with it, my tagline. My tagline used to be simply my name. But then I decided to put my name in the header, which, by the way, is a view of my hometown, Nueva Vizcaya, located about 180 kilometers north of Metro Manila, the country’s capital, where I am currently based.

So I thought of coming up with a good tagline, something that is relevant to my domain name (Brainteaser), and will encapsulate what the blog is all about — my reflections about life and about the things I label ‘essential.’

I wrote down some words. Brainteaser. Life. Reflections. Puzzles. And from there, I was able to come up with the tagline, which is also a statement of how I view life.

You see, I see life as a big puzzle board upon which pieces and clues of a difficult and unending riddle is scattered. In our attempts to solve this riddle, we look everywhere for clues — in the challenges that come our way, in the people that join us in our journey, in the roads we take, in the humps that deter us in our travel. We see glimpses of the answer there. But the greatest clue, I think, is inside us. The pieces of the puzzle lay hidden in the contents of our hearts and in the strength of our faith, for in this puzzle, we are an important piece, a significant clue, and an indispensable player, all rolled into one.

As to the answer, I believe it had always been given: God. There could be no other answer. We only seem to stumble upon different answers because we are slow in realizing — and accepting — His significance, as a result of our inability to recognize Him among the clues we stumble upon.

//Sherma E. Benosa; 11 June 2008; 9:57am

First posted at my photo-blog, Photo.Graphic Thoughts.

(c) 2008 Sherma E. Benosa. All rights reserved.

.

I was once a pointless sentence, devoid of meaning

But then I learned I had to mean something…

I analyzed my syntax, as well as my words;

The turn of my phrases, the semantics of my world.

I looked into my clauses, and probed my conjunctions

Only then did I see everything was skewed:

Something was wrong with my punctuations.

I put a comma where I should have put a period

So I simply paused, instead of having discontinued.

I put a question mark where life put an exclamation point

So I worried where I should have rejoiced.

Something was wrong with my punctuations.

I put a possessive mark where there should have been none

So I acquired things I could do better without;

I put a period where a semi-colon would have been enough

So where I should have simply paused, I completely stopped.

Something was wrong with my punctuation marks.

I put a parenthesis where a bracket would have been better

So I excluded the things life considers to truly matter.

I put an ellipsis denoting there were things I omitted

Not realizing they were the lessons I should have studied.

Something was wrong with my punctuation marks.

I dashed when all I had to do was simply walk;

I slashed when the right thing to do was patch things up.

I was misquoted as saying something I did not voice out;

I was misunderstood, my intent was not clear enough.

Something was wrong with my punctuation marks.

I’m striving to edit my life and rewrite my sentences

Trying to put my punctuations in their proper places.

When the One who lent me my pen evaluates my phrases

And finds my punctuations already well-placed

May He include them in His journal of meaningful pieces.

Based from my earlier poem, Where I Belong

Also inspired by Corazon Quiamas' You and I poem, and by the Joel Osteen quote, "Do not put a question mark where God put a period."

//Sherma E. Benosa

04 June 2008; 11:48am

There are times when we stop ourselves from doing the things we ought to do for fear of making mistakes, of smearing a clean slate. Bu really, our life is a blank journal on which we must write. A journal that contains nothing is not a journal, just a blank space that did not serve its purpose — it would have been a life had it been lived.

//Sherma E. Benosa

09 May 2008; 11:35am

and my pen, tired from scuffle, succumbed.

In the abyss of dreamlessness she lodged

frozen, lying there totally unperturbed.

Precious solitude, my pen found in the chamber

Wailing, none was heard; not a single whimper.

But in there too, was a whole army of rust

Nourishing my pen with its scrumptious crust.

The stillness of the chamber, my pen found

it safe; its silence, she deemed profound;

The quandary of wakefulness, she now abhorred

This new life she’d found, she so adored.

But alas, the sun just wouldn’t let it be

“Rest,” he told my pen, “is dangerous to thee.”

Slumber moved aside; its anch’rage now gone

The treacherous moon had sold my pen to the sun

whose bright rays hugged my pen, his goddaughter.

“Please darling, no more crumpled paper,” he coaxed her

“No more broken lines, nor reverence for gloom

For my sunrise and sunset are now yours to write on.”

My pen nodded, smile slowly brightening her face

as she pirouetted round and round the blank page

whereupon dots of sorrow vanished and waves of spasm

painted themselves bright. Ah, gone is the chasm.

[I used to hate writing poetry because I hated listening to my pen’s wails. But soon she learned to smile, and I became more tolerant of her cries. So now I write. Yes, my pen is un-resting…]

Listen to me reading this poem. Click here. 

//Sherma E. Benosa

24 June 2006; 3:36 am;

Taken from my essay If Life Were Like Reading a Novel.
.

.

[Texts, photos, concept and layout by Sherma E. Benosa.]

.

Opportunity and Humanity faced each other at the Chieftain Hall. This was to resolve Humanity’s complaint against Opportunity.

Humanity claimed that Opportunity was not doing his job, which was to regularly present himself to Humanity and his people, and give them all the chances in life that they deserved.

After proper introductions were made, the chieftain asked the gentlemen to take a seat. Humanity took the chair on the left of the chieftain’s desk; Opportunity took the one on the right.

When both gentlemen were seated, the chieftain asked Humanity to speak to formally lodge his complaint.

“Well, Sir,” Humanity looked at the chieftain, then glanced at Opportunity. “Mr. Opportunity here has not been doing his job. My people and I have been encountering all sorts of troubles because of him. His negligence has been hindering us from realizing our full potentials. We’ve been complaining about this for a long time, and we had been reduced to repeatedly begging him to come to us, but he just wouldn’t.”

The chieftain nodded his understanding of Humanity’s predicament. He signaled Opportunity to defend himself.

Opportunity cleared his throat. “I am sorry that Mr. Humanity and his people have been encountering problems, Mr. Chieftain, but I beg to disagree that it is because of my failure to perform my duty. The truth is that I keep knocking at their door but they don’t always open their doors for me. There are times that they would, but they often hesitate to let me in. It takes them a long time to decide whether or not to invite me, that by the time they’d made up their mind, it’s time for me to leave for someone else’s house. So…”

“But how do we know it’s indeed you who’s on the door?” Humanity interjected. “You show up looking differently each time. You just love disguises. How can we be sure it’s indeed you and not a prankster who’s at our door, when many times you’d come in the company of those shady creatures, Deception and Betrayal?”

Opportunity calmly replied, “There are no disguises, Mr. Humanity. I always come to you looking the same way I always do. And I don’t come with Deception and Betrayal. You always see them whenever you open your door because they live in your neighborhood. And knowing that they always spell trouble, I try not to stop them from accompanying me to your house, as long as they don’t hurt me, or interfere with me. It’s your family members Fear and Distrust that often lodge themselves between you and me, so that you won’t see me clearly.”

Humanity looked blankly at Opportunity, not having a ready and acceptable retort. He was afraid of incriminating members of his family if he’d speak further. The truth is that he would always ask Fear and Distrust to accompany him whenever he would open his door, fearing that Deception and Betrayal would hurt him if they’d see that he was alone and vulnerable.

Having heard both sides, the chieftain instructed Humanity to resolve the matter within his household, especially the problem with Fear and Distrust. He concluded that only when this matter is resolved will they see more of Opportunity. Until then, they will always have a hard time recognizing Opportunity when he knocks on their door, and continue not being able to seize the chances that Opportunity always brings.

Apparently, the matter with Fear and Distrust was a deep-rooted problem with Humanity and his people. They always felt vulnerable without Fear and Distrust by their side, that to this day, his people still keep blaming Opportunity for their circumstances, claiming that he wasn’t doing his job, when the truth is that they just fail to see Opportunity when he shows up, or, if they do, Fear and Distrust would stop them from seizing the chances Opportunity was giving them. //Sherma E. Benosa; 11 February 2008

Inspired by a piece I wrote in 2006, entitled Knocking on Your Door. Click here to read it.

This morning, I have written a children’s story based from this tale but it has no title yet. Please bear with me if I won't blog it yet. I am hoping it will be good enough for publication in a children’s book. I’m crossing my fingers! Please pray for me. It is my dream to be able cross over to children's literature. What can  do? I have a childlike heart. I just love how the kids look at the world. Amazing! :-)

//Sherma E. Benosa

I have had experienced this sort of thing several times before. And I experienced it again today.

When I purchased Paulo Coelho’s book, Like the Flowing River, a collection of his reflections, as a birthday gift for myself, my plan was to read it in one sitting. However, because I have been too busy, I eventually decided to read it in installment (about 5 to 15 pages at a time).

The book had been sitting on my desk for almost two weeks now, right next to my laptop. Sometimes, when I would pause from my writing, I would pick it up, and read a few pages, then do something else (either go back to my writing, or do other stuff).

Today, as I was feeling a bit down while writing something for work, having been reminded again of some of the unpleasant things that happened during the past weeks, I decided to take a pause, and prayed for God to help me to be strong.

After the prayer, I decided to read Coelho’s book. When I read what was on the page, a shiver ran through my spine, and my eyes became moist.

Let me share what I’ve read so you’d understand why.

"Who Would Like this Twenty Dollar Bill?”

Casan Said Amir tells the story of a lecturer who began a seminar by holding up a twenty dollar bill and asking: “Who would like this twenty-dollar bill?”

Several hands went up, but the lecturer said: “Before I give it to you, I have to do something.”

He screwed it up into a ball and said: “Who still wants this bill?”

The hands went up again.

“And what if I do this to it?”

He threw the crumpled bill up the wall, dropped it on the floor, insulted it, trampled on it, and once more showed them the bill — now all creased and dirty. He repeated the question, and the hands stayed up.

“Never forget this scene,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I do to this money, it’s still a twenty-dollar bill. So often in our lives, we are crumpled, trampled, ill-treated, insulted, and yet, despite all that, we are still worth the same.”

Source:

Coelho, Paulo. 2006. Like the Flowing River. London: Harper Collins. p.192.

//Sherma E. Benosa

05 April 2008; 11:20am

“Why would I jump when I can glide smoothly? Why should I take a plunge when I can dip one foot at a time?”

“Rolling stone” is what my father calls me. Since I graduated from the university six years ago, I’ve changed employment several times that he had to keep reminding me: “rolling stones catch no moss” to which I always answered: “at least they have greater chances of landing exactly where they want to be.”

With that reasoning in mind, coupled with determination and a clear sense of where I wanted to go, I walked toward the edge of the cliff that was my secure but boring job, not daring to look below (lest I’d lose the courage to jump), and leaped, hoping that there’d be an invisible net to catch me, or that the ground wouldn’t be too hard.

There was no net, I soon found out; and I hit the ground with a loud thud. But quickly I stood up and, walking limply, made my way up to the other cliff; with the mind to climb it.

Only to jump off a second time. And a third. And a fourth. And… who knows?

THE URGE TO JUMP started out as a seemingly innocent question — “Where would I be had I done differently?” — that slowly grew into a nagging voice until it became too loud for me to simply ignore. Then I started asking more and more pressing questions: Should I move forward or should I make a turnaround? Should I cling to the safety of my present job or should I leap on to the next?

Shifting careers is not an easy decision to make because it often means going back to square one and giving up the perks one already enjoys. It is also beset with many “what-ifs.” In fact, a lot of people regard it as a “suicide attempt.”

Knowing that, I still couldn’t let myself be stuck in a situation I couldn't live with. I didn’t think I could ever forgive myself if in the future I’d realize I could have made a difference, but didn’t; because I let my demons scare me off.

So I did some serious thinking, carefully evaluating my prospects and making sure I wouldn’t be affecting too many people in case I’d fail. I planned ahead and saved up; and made sure I’d have a fallback, just in case.

And then I jumped.

The first time I did it, I wasn’t too successful. But neither was my attempt a complete failure. Because I learned from the experience. It sure hurt me, but it hadn’t destroyed my spirit.

And the jump… the jump was, in itself, great. The adrenaline rush. The thrill. The knowledge that I was defying the odds and that I was doing something less courageous people would never dream of doing. Everything was just great.

AM I THERE yet? Heck, I don’t know. I’ve already jumped several times. Each experience was different from the previous. And success rate varied. But I keep learning; I’m becoming better and better.

And yes, changing careers does not assure of dreams fulfilled; that much is true. But it settles the many what-ifs in life. And no, hopping from one job to another is not at all being like a rolling stone. Rolling stones move not because they want to, but because of a stronger external force. They don’t have control of where they are going. We do. We choose how we move or whether we move at all. We decide when. If rolling stones have good chances of getting to where they want to be, how much more chances do we, humans, have?

And if, indeed, steering one’s career to a different direction is like committing suicide, then it is the kind of suicide where one can always turn back and undo everything. It is the kind of suicide I’d be willing to commit again and again, if only to get to a loftier plane.

[Sherma E. Benosa; April 2005]

Postscript

Diary entry, February 2006

Here I am again, trying to decide what to do with my life. I had thought that when I’m already in the “right job,” I’d be very happy and would not want to jump again. I have to say I'm happy with the way things turned out. But what I didn’t count on was that, once you’ve achieved what you’ve set out to achieve, you’d want something else. And in wanting something else, you’d be faced with another dilemma: Would you leave what you’ve worked hard for to try another thing?

But then, maybe this time, there’s no longer any need for me to jump. After all, jumping isn’t the only course I can take. In fact, there are times that it doesn’t make any sense to jump. I mean, why would I jump when I can glide smoothly? Why should I take a plunge when I can dip one foot at a time? Test the waters is what they call it. That sounds like a good advice to me.

. 

 I watch in awe as you slowly walk to the horizon’s end

Amber and gold flashing; I imagine that is you winking.

I feel the calm of your peace, taste the truth in your promise

I know you’ll be back to hold me tight in your embrace.

.

You pause a little and wave to me one last time

Before disappearing to give way to the impatient night.

I linger a moment longer, caressing the mist of your scent

Then slowly walk back home for a well-deserved rest.  

.

[Photo Caption: Captivating Pagudpod, Ilocos Norte Sunset.]

.

//Sherma E. Benosa; 19 November 2007; 10:35pm 

My pen, she’s almost done
Writing on the current page;
Few more scrawls and soon
She’d be turning another leaf.

The next leaf, smooth and glossy,
It’s the diary’s thirtieth page;
Still a blank, clean surface
On which my pen’d pirouette

Maybe with a black or blue ink
Or why not red, pink or green;
With lines graceful and thin
Turns planned and disciplined.

But will my pen be singing
Or perhaps be a-crying?
Will she leave marks of laughter
Or perhaps stains of pain?

Will her scrawls be legible
Or hopelessly unfathomable?
Will her lines and loops be meaningful
Or simply pathetic scribbles? .

.
//Sherma E. Benosa
14 October 2007; 1:07pm 

.

.

Scrawling Still…

Chocolate will never bring world peace
Because if you have chocolate
I will try to take it from you

Have you ever noticed
Hot chocolate sold on the street
Has too much hot
And too little chocolate?

My cookies were bare
Because I ate the whole bag of chocolate chips
Yesterday

I leave caramel-filled chocolates in the car on purpose
When I return they are attractively marbled

Frank Mars dreamed up the Milky Way
After bailing his estranged son out of jail
For vandalizing storefronts
With cigarette ads

When life melts my chocolate
I fold it into the eggs

When you chop squares of chocolate
Tiny bits flake off
Such wastefulness is unacceptable

Climb a mountain
You can eat chocolate with every meal
And never gain weight

Every brownie recipe has the potential for greatness
Just add an extra bar of chocolate

I’m fairly certain
Shrimp cocktail sauce would improve dramatically
By the addition of chocolate

Hershey’s secret recipe was first concocted by the Swiss
It was thrown out because it was a mistake

Scientists have just discovered
Chocolate makes people happy
No shit

Whenever you set foot outside, somebody’s checking out your butt.

Don’t leave this world without having first climbed a mountain. Alone.

If you leave the place you love, you will literally inhabit your regret.

Your doctor forgot to tell you: you’re required to eat ice cream at least twice a week.

Eternal happiness doesn’t exist, so stop crying already.

You are everyone you read about in the history books. And you will be again, someday soon.