wind blowing change

Mornings are now imbued with the cool spring breeze. Even afternoons are chilly. Nowadays I see everyone doting their sweaters and jackets. Jologs go formal. With yet another failed coup attempt and destabilization plot, army tanks bolting five-star luxury hotel, the president casually claims that everything is back to normal as she goes on another shopping trip to Paco park. Last week saw a storm passing by, an earthquake that almost brought the chandeliers of Malacanang down and still everything is standing, seems like nothing has passed. This is Manila, party everywhere and frustrating traffic jams. I look and wonder, drifting along with a new kind of resolve. One that whispers change. Some animals go in hibernation and some migrate to the south. We decide to find cover in the jungle and go out in the streets bedecked with year-long wait and hope. Experiences have thought us that resilience is the only real weapon against the curse of fate. Lost loves long forgone, almost forgotten. The point is to keep on moving, getting up in the morning, facing the day with the same persistence that our ancestors had to cross the great African continent in search of better environment. A better life. And thus we have conquered the pain of climate change, lurking behind dangerous predators armed with nothing else but some disastrous even fatal inspiration to till new ground.
There now, I am learning to move on and love what I have. Content is coming but with tinge of irony, I approach the road with a commitment to cynical reflection. Nothing is ever it seems it is, even light, even truth. Judgement is that comfortable pair of shades we put on to protect ourselves from the gloomy and boring reality of truth. Meanwhile, the body learns and adapt no matter what, tropical bodies do have a chance for change.