dear universe,

my tarot-reading friend is in awe of you. well, i wouldn't downplay it - countless people invoke your presence, use you in making their earnest poems, and has made you the subject of their inquiries. apparently, your long-standing gig isn't doing so bad.

yes, about that tarot-reading friend. i get the impression that you're quite chatty. something about you trying to tell us puny people back here on earth something. i don't know what. it's not like i actually hear your voice. i haven't heard your voice - is it raspy? shrilly? hoarse? a deep baritone? like james earl jones saying 'this...is cnn'?

knowing that you're the universe, i'd bet you go the route of james earl jones, with the presence of charlton heston in the ten commandments. able to part the red sea in a single wave of the staff.

at the back of my head, i figure this route is just too predictable. i mean, why is something conceived to be expansive, infinite and great have to similarly take grandiose traits? i remember that pug in men in black admonishing J and K about their 'limited' view of the universe.

so anyways, back to your compulsion to tell us humans something. i haven't really heard anything from you. is it the frequency i'm in? is yours just inaccesible? i'd like to think not.

a friend just told me the universe always tells her something and usually what it tells her saves her from harm or a mere confirmation of what she already knows but would just not fly in the eyes of scientific logic.

do i wish i had her direct line to the universe? who doesn't? if i don't get a direct line, just give me anything - falling palm leaves, bird droppings conveniently landing on my head, waking up to find my hair really kinky. or something. anything.

yes, i realized the universe's voice is not the human voice i know. the voice is in everyday events happening unexpectedly, unexplainedly, strangely wonderful but equally tragic.

i sense that i, for my part, has an even complex version of the universe' s voice to deal with - people. in my lifetime of around thirty years, i've been around newly-born babies, my family, classmates and teachers, the neighborhood grocer, relatives, bus passengers, pedestrians, nutjobs, freaks, acquaintances, friends of all shapes and sizes, of different persuasions, different convictions, different motivations. i am in the middle of this maze of people.

as that johnny walker ad quips 'keep walking.' and so, i keep walking. walking is good for the body. walking gives you perspective. when i walk i am doing the same thing - shuffling my feet left and right and left and right - yet i am moving. i am moving towards a point. sometimes that point was intended, other times not. but i keep walking. walking is breathing.

an old colleague used to tell me 'hinga nang malalim.' he may not know that i have asthma but i think that's immaterial for him. he probably sensed it from the way i talk, the way i think over things, the way i panic. when i look at his gentle face, everything i worry about evaporates. at the same time, he unsettles me. i constantly find myself unable to sustain a conversation with him, as if i'm pressured to keep it going. but maybe his silence also tells me that keeping something going doesn't mean actual movement, mouth moving, voice issuing from vocal cords. being there IS keeping it going. being together IS keeping it going. being apart IS keeping it going.

hey universe? one more thing. you sure know how to keep an audience going.

yours truly,
b.