Tapping the Water

FD FAMILY PICTURE

We were tired. That’s for sure. Two weeks of press work, one week of pre-enrolment collection, three weeks of sleep deprivation. We were pieces of unwashed white laundry flapping in the breeze. We were near to our eventual desiccation, ready to be folded by someone miles away. What I’m trying to say is that, we were just so friggin’ tired. 

But that didn’t stop us from going out of our office, take the pumpboat, and sail away to the island of Guimaras. For two days, in small dingy classrooms, we fostered the spirit of truth and press excellence by teaching young campus writers to open up their hearts, minds and guts in order to be sensitive to the issues that affect the youth of today. Little by little, our efforts mounted up to unmask their hearts that once were sojourners of truth and potentials. We have discovered gifts and motivated the once who have succumb to self-pity because they think they do not have what it takes to be one of the scribblers.

Right there, I realized that being young and a writer doesn’t coincide. Writing comes with experience. Writing is an endless battle. It needs constant practice. I know that first hand. 

I saw myself in all those kids. Looking back, I was just like them. I was unsure of where my attempts to make a sensible paragraph or two will take me. I was just an ordinary kid. I had a desire to write, but I didn’t have the talent for it. I knew. But I guess, retracing my path from that day until now, all I can say is, if you try a little harder and kindle the burning desire deep within, you can have an infinite leap of faith. 

I taught about writing. I tried to talk about writing for the paper, the basic rules and methods, but in between, I found myself talking about trusting your own mind and creating a confidence in your experience instead.  I wasn’t sticking to the topic on “How to Write a Feature Story” anymore, I was already talking about ‘the one neat truth about writing.’

The one neat truth about writing is that writing has many truths.  I guess before one could write for an audience, one must write for himself first. He must know that the act of writing is not a linear process. There is no logical step-by-step process to writing. Every moment is a fresh new experience and every fresh new experience needs a different treatment. Different things work. One isn’t necessarily wrong and the other, necessarily right. 

I realize that because they were young, what they needed right now is to know that writing is from the bones. The essential, awake speech of their minds. It is the act of being wild, unbridled, mixing the dream of your grandmothers delicious cooking with the gray skied morning outside the window. It is a wild forest where we gather energy before going to prune our garden, write our fine books and stories. It is being sensitive in the moment. 

I know, you reader, will say, I have a very romantic notion about writing. I know. I’m just the way it is. And writing for me is romantic in its own right. It is art. It is the only thing that fulfils my function yet suffers very much, too. I finish one writing, perhaps, this, and yet still very unsatisfied. I want to revise this already and do another. It is a cycle, a continuous and non-stop chase to be better at it. And I think I’m drawn to it and want it to be part of my life. 

When I try to remember the faces of those kids that I have taught, I see my own self. Humbled, strong and plain. At first, the looks of confusion troubled them, but as we went further, they understood. And now that the workshop is finished, I know that in my own small way, I have tapped the water beneath the surface. I just hope that they will, by themselves, continue to tap the water beneath. For I believe, that with effort, the water will come through them and flourish like a vibrant flowing river, just beginning to live but full of promise.