by Karlo Christopher Cristales
Published on The Augustinian Vol. 54 No. 4, Nov. 16, 2008-Jan. 15, 2009 issue
Metanoia means an elevated way of thinking; taken from the roots meta (higher) and noia (thought process). I took the liberty of choosing it as the word to be in bold letters and highlighted above my name simply because it took hold of almost all of my time for the past few months.
I had first stumble upon the word with two of my closest friends back in first year. Back then it was the title of CEA's annual art display. The word was the kind that found its place in our reverberating conversations: simple to meaning but intelligently sounding. our conversations start with simple discoveries like those and covering topics ranging from a weird dream the night before to what one would want from the other for Christmas.
"Friendship is a selfish union," says the yet-immature, unconverted Augustine, "because it is rooted on the basis of need." It's like saying you'll be my friend because I need you. But on my case, they became my friends because I love them. Frankly, I did fell for them, transcending all known rules for courtship. And contrary to what Augustine said, if my reason for friendship is love, is love then selfish?
One year later, the three of us parted ways due to the inevitable resectioning. Apparently, our IQ's aren't that as close as our hearts do. I then acted like a jerk: I hid from their glances in between corridors at school, grabbed some one I’ve known briefly and made small talks whenever I couldn't, deliberately faked a smile if asked if I miss them, and had second thoughts on answering text messages that invites me to come and have a meal or spare a time with their new friends. I guess it's instinct, a reflex for any living creature to avoid events and circumstances that might probably elicit pain or sorrow, or at least the idea of it. I, too, did made new friends but each friend has a unique trait that cannot be replaced by another and that got me sad and lonely knowing that days would pass and I won't find any other whom I could turn to for a little talk to hear my corny jokes, my opinions, what I am frustrated about, what troubles me, or what makes me feel down. For every section that I was transferred into, I feared that I was merely collecting quantities of friends and never equaling the quality of friendship I had with those two.
Our body has a compensatory mechanism that is activated whenever it is in the state of distress. As it is, mine kicked in psychologically. I first turned to studying, to God, then to novels, and eventually to video games. It is in the latter that I used metanoia™ as a code name, thinking that what it means would define my actions. I turned to computer shops as an escape from it all, hoping that I could run away from the solitude but even that proves to be a liability, when I started to get hooked, addicted, and consequently added to the ruin of my life.
All my efforts are at vain for trying to replace what I thought I could. I continued wasting my time, money and effort for a game, drowned myself with attending masses, bucket-full of prayers, piling books and novels I hoped I could read, and meeting new people I thought were good and true enough. For the many things I’ve done that had almost cost me my grades to drop, my scholarship to dangle on the brink of revokement, and my health to be compromised, nothing is more real than the fact that I could not substitute my old friends with others whom I thought were better.
In our recent capping and pinning—a nursing ceremonial rite of passage—I got opiated with the slow-paced mass and the seemingly endless lines of people waiting for their turn to come up stage. The long planned perfection of its process did me drowsy but at the far end, I got my pin, sang our class song, and had pictures with many different friends from a variety of sections which only I had the honor of belonging to. I then realized that changes aren't that bad after all.
God gives us lots of things and sometimes he takes them back. But regardless of whether we have them for a long time or a short time, they each enrich our lives and teach us something.
In my time of crisis, when I got lost and strayed from my optimism, I rediscovered Charles Dickens, Dante Aligghierri, Florence Nightingale, the human anatomy, nursing care plan; met Paulo Coelho and Nicholas Sparks, Mogul Kahn the Axe, Jah'rakal the Troll Warlord, Abraham Maslow and his Hierarchy of Needs, people who knew the sciences and people who are skillful with a mouse and a keyboard; and had gotten to know better my Lord and Savior.
There are some gifts we may never understand and others can break our heart. But there is always a reason why they are given. It's always hard to lose someone we love, but it's only after they're gone that we fully see the gift that they are—that's when every memory becomes a present, and every smile a treasure.
According to Matthew 6:8, God knows what we want even before we had asked them.
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