Yesterday, I went to intramuros in metro Manila, walked through an old colonial house, a colonial museum and sat down to enjoyed a drink in a garden.
It suddenly hit me that nothing can escape time. I touched a solid colonial rock wall with my hand. I felt the person from 100 years ago who touched the same wall. What was she thinking? Where was she going? I saw the old furniture in the house and imagined the scene 200 years ago – busy servants walking around the house, guests socializing in the grand living space, host having a quiet moment on the balcony. What are their lives like? What was troubling them? I sat on an old wooden chair in a church. One arm of the chair was pretty torn already. I could feel the hundreds, thousands of people who’ve sat on that chair. What were the things in their mind? What made them hesitate, sad, desperate, or hopeful.
I felt so small, powerless, fearful. I can’t believe a third of my life has passed. There are still so many places to see, people to get to know, missions to be accomplished. I am, after all, a negligible part of the grand history. If life is this short, might as well be happy. Set my time free. Set my mind free.