Golden Valor to Discover the Skeleton in Their Closet: The General Luna's Odyssey
BIOGRAPHY : Think of a famous national person and write down the basic information about his life.
“In exchange for all the lives lost, we owe it to them to learn their story.” - Captain General Antonio Luna
On October 29, 1866, half of the moon's disk was lighted like a jealous star lurking in the cloud when a great general was born into this world who would rekindle the valor of the Filipinos. General Antonio Narciso Luna de San Pedro y Novicio Ancheta was a courageous Filipino born in the central Philippines, in Binondo, Manila.
Joaqun Luna de San Pedro y Posadas's son with Laureana Novicio y Ancheta. The Luna family is well-known for their clan, owing mostly to Antonio's older brother Juan Luna, who won multiple accolades in our country for his four-cornered masterpiece, Spolarium. A work pondered and framed by emotion and reality. His brother Jose, on the other hand, is a successful licensed physician. Joaquin chose to leave the Luna family's idyllic life and move away with Luna. To fight for the Philippines and attain the motherland's independence; the chosen country, the Philippines.
Under Maestro Intong's stern teaching, he was already accustomed to reading fluently, writing proficiently, and performing arithmetic by the age of six, and as a result, he was recognized as a kid with extraordinary ability.
Luna earned a Bachelor of Arts degree from the Ateneo Municipal de Manila in 1881 before going on to study chemistry, music, and literature at the University of Santo Tomas. During Antonia Luna's nine-year stay in the Philippines, he decided to accompany her older brother Juan Luna's voyage. Antonio received his licentiate in pharmacy from the Universidad de Barcelona, followed by his doctorate from the Universidad Central de Madrid.
It can indeed be said that he had all the talent, fortune, elegance, and chivalry, but his serene and directional existence was disrupted when his gaze fell on the beautiful sculpture of Nellie Boustead, a mestiza daughter of a Filipina and a wealthy French-English businessman. Antonio and Jose Rizal's close friendship was gradually swallowed up by a sinister cloud just because of a rose that bloomed out of nowhere. Antonio Luna fought his love for the girl he once loved, a fight he knew he'd lose. He had lost the only love he had ever known.
Antonio chose to study to divert himself from his wounded heart as a result of his anguish. He went on to study bacteriology and histology at the Pasteur Institute in Paris, and went to Belgium to deepen his studies in those fields. Since Antonio Luna was fortunate enough to submit a well-received paper on malaria while in Spain, the Spanish government offered him a position as an expert in infectious and tropical diseases in 1894.
After that moment, the same year, Antonio decided to return to his home country, and work as a chief scientist at the Municipal Laboratory in Manila. Together with his brother Juan, he formed the Sala de Armas, a fencing association. The Katipunan saw this as an opportunity to approach the two brothers and persuaded them to join the Katipunan created by Andres Bonifacio. However, Antonio, along with his brother, rejected the approach because they believed in a peaceful reformation of the system rather than a violent revolution against the Spaniards. Even though the two of them declined the offer, Antonio, along with his brothers Jose and Juan, were imprisoned. The Spaniards assumed the brothers were opposed to their leadership, which was actually accurate. At the same time, they were accused of being part of the Katipunan. Except for Antonio, the rest of his siblings were released. Juan used his reputation and influence to secure his younger brother, Antonio.
Dreadful events occurred. Antonio awoke with a new perspective on Spanish colonial control. Antonio Luna began his gory odyssey in Hong Kong, where he trained in combat tactics and military organization under the legendary Belgian military instructor Gerard Leman. After a while, he returned to the Philippines and battled with all his will for his motherland. The disintegration was felt by the General. Every Filipino military group in the area began to examine and train soldiers. However, the desire to unite Filipinos has steadily faded. The General filed his resignation letter, but President Aguinaldo eventually came to his senses and persuaded Antonio to return, appointing him commander in chief. Luna had a concrete plan that could have saved millions of Filipinos from slavery, but rivalry and the power of the people's gaze encircled him and killed the General on July 5,1899. He was deceived by his own countrymen. Antonio, who merely wanted freedom and independence for their country, Blood is truly poisonous. It gradually changes shade until you discover it wasn't red after all.
His bravery and devotion to our pearl of the Orient Sea became our motherland's shield, and from this high vantage point, he cast his gaze on the invaders, the Americans. The conquerors' enticing words blinded and imprisoned the Filipinos, but Antonio was different. His incisive sense piqued the scattered hearts of Filipinos in our country. He reassembled the once broken piece that the Spaniards had shattered. I was astounded that such a one-of-a-kind and courageous sculpture could exist on the planet and dwell with the Filipino people. As the clock's arm moved, the images suddenly lay in front of me. Now I'm not sure if we deserve someone like him. A sculpture whose sole aim in life is to devote his entire being to the freedom and independence of his motherland, the Philippines.
HEARTLESS EMOTION : THE JOURNEY TO THE UNKNOWN PARADISE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY : Write down your life's experiences and current circumstances. Your life story should include the essential framework that any essay should have, which consists of four basic aspects.
I'd have this sensation of hovering outside of my body, gazing down at myself and hating what I saw. How I’m acting, the way I sound. I have no idea how to change it, and I'm petrified that the feeling will never go away.
Why do you like me? I'm not even fond of myself. You have no idea how many times I wince at the terrible thought: I have to spend the rest of my life with myself.
In the darkness and depths of space, the waning crescent moon sparkled like a glittering claw on the eighth of August, 2004, when I was brought up into this ground and was thrust into the spotlight of reality and fantasies, yet unlike others, I am divergent. I didn't move during my first voyage, my heartbeat was at loss. I wasn't breathing nor whining in between solitude. My body was curled up and stoned in the same position. When I suddenly felt a bolt of pain, the blood started running into my veins, as my heart bangled inside my chest. I was blinded by the lights but then I saw my mom’s hazel brown eyes. I gave a soft grunt like I was giddy as I peered at her carefully, feeling the tingles throughout my soul. The alcohol sensation remained around my nostrils. Finally I am free.
Jocela Carmel derived from a combination of my father's and mother's names, while my second name is named after the holy mountain of Carmel. Carmel reflects the luscious grandeur of Mount Carmel's scenic slopes and signifies vineyard and flower beds. Here, Elijah reconstructed the Mount Carmel temple of God, which had been destroyed. It has long been revered as a sacred place and thus a symbol of beauty and fertility. The mountain stands wearing the unique beauty of home. They found a home in me but I did not see myself as one.
When I was in pre-school, I seemed to live with pleasure as I stepped onto the gentle shape of clouds. I received a gold badge here near the end of pre-elementary, but it was also the last curve I gave. A beaming smile that won't last long in this tattered portrait of me. Perhaps that's why I'm pondering that not all things return to their place once they've been shattered.
As the cloud of tribulation dispersed, I danced with delight, spinning in the swing of time as harsh reality was the one hiding behind my veil. I resided on top of a mountain where a plethora of roses embraced its ground, getting anything I desired, whether to point to this thing or the other form. But the thunderclouds rose and chose to engulf me at the same moment as the enraged lightning that flashed in the middle of the desolation as the clouds wailed. I slipped, plummeted, and was now at the bottom.
There is no visible path leading to the peak where the castle of my fantasies stands, no flat road that would serve as my tranquility, and no daisies that will make me feel at ease. I was lost, the trial had altered me, damaged my sculpture, tainted my innocent mind , tattered my lonely soul and twisted my critical veins that were hiding into a thin cloth as the time silently put its dagger behind my back, weighing the burden I handle. My heart is pounding in unknown pain. I was alone, with nothing but the wind whistling in the heart of the forest I called reality, while my feet were submerged in the slimy muck.
I moved into another school, not knowing that this change would alter my own castle. The clouds above my head darkened, and the perfect joy vanished. I've been a victim of bullying my entire elementary life; I hid not out of fear, but out of the dread that someone would call me weak; despite the storms of life, I still managed to be a top student; to avoid bullies, I entered contests, one of which was radio broadcasting, which reached as far as RSPC; this was the first contest I entered, but this short-term comfort soon made me sick, that I had to undergo surgery.
I tried to deceive myself by letting myself see deeper visions that others couldn't. I was forced to hide who I truly once was, and I had to sculpt myself into a different persona. I poured out my agonizing emotions in the curve they demanded, in my pouring of color on a simple canvas, in this flat surface I became, me who is pure and without a trace of pretension. Others may think it's a perfect masterpiece, but they don't perceive the tears that were embedded in the golden portrait. I was drenched with tears and drowning in rage, which prompted me to ignite my fire, which tore my makhaira. Drawing, singing, wielding a sword, and kicking the wind are all skills I possess that lightened my heaviness, wiped away my tears, and weaved me in solace .
I am dreaming as I whisper beneath the winds. I am whimpering under the silver dust. I am at a loss and can never be found but on 21st of April 2017, when a little angel approached me, I gave him a four-cornered book and a bag of food, he then gazed into my eyes and beamed. There I saw a child who was still yearning for a pipe of hope in a figure of me, a child who was dreaming of landing on the ground I was treading on, a child who had hope hidden behind his curved lip. Here I strove for more, was incredibly ambitious, and was strolling as the past photograph was pounded on my back.
Even reality tried to put me into the verge of nothingness , but my shattered glass was buried deep within my being. Now I don't waste much time, I don't breathe in other people's expectations, perception of what a perfect child should be, or even what angle I should stand in. I live for who I am. I was left in an infinite pleasure even if the forces were putting it to an end. I walk even though it hurts. I try to run even when emotionally drained, even when I'm bleeding, even socially withdrawn. Because I know there will be a kid waiting for me at the end of this ragnarok, and those children are the trophy I want to embrace, care for, and put into a safe cradle, but now far away from the mountain, the wilderness, and the castle where I grew up.
The castle was too cruel for them. I once lived in despair even though I tried to banish the memories but every time the lids of my eyes closed everything came back to me. The ray of light I first saw, now I want them to see the sunlight as it embraces their whole being, as the howls of the wind soothes their ears, while the waves dance on its rhythm as the clouds and birds embrace the sky. I will take the young girl to where she belongs: paradise.
SHORT MEMOIR : Write down one of the most memorable events that happened to you.
Within me was an eternal battle of self-loathing. As I struggled to rebuild my sculpture, this battle blinded me shaped and wrapped my whole being.
I tried to find you but I failed. Your shadows had already been painted on their walls, but mine was empty, screaming for a smidgeon of glee and a glimpse of Mangata. You're the source of my euphoria, the driving force behind my insanity, and the chasm between my seas. I like you; your shadow completes the work of art. The curves in the wall indicate that you are more than a perfect sculpture of Medusa, whereas I am a Cupid's disciple.
As you tried to leave footprints on the safe path I carved out for you. I watched as your shadow vanished in front of my eyes. I could tell you were eager to get out of this room. I can smell the tenderness of your yearning to be the person you were ten years ago.
I was on the brink of drowning in tears when I saw you, the vivid eyes howling with agony. I smiled painfully, as if I were in the middle of a maze, wondering if I should continue playing or just bury myself in this game. I was befuddled. I was standing in an unknown path, crying and pondering what was causing my anguish, when I noticed you. I saw you standing in a cracked mirror, holding that same smile but in a different curve, as you immerse yourself in a blazing flame. You cut the ropes on your wrist, I saw how you fell, along with the clock's arm moved for the final time, I saw your fainted smile.
If you don't have something good to do, then it’s better for you to die. And so I did.
Why is that? It still hurts, as the wind slowly picks up my shattered pieces, and I still feel the pain. I'm lying here with a white cloth wrapped around my eyes as I was walking through the pale golden sands and swirling winds. It was wriggly, gripping my feet. It's large heaps of little cubes caressing and comforting my bruised soul, and wounded sculpture. I felt the sting and nothing else. I'm befuddled and in agony, and I don't know why, but it seems so painful. They said it was a perfect joy, a ideal rest, a comfort that we should lean on, and the right destination.
I carved my sculpture only to have it destroyed again. A tear fell from my left eye. The girl was in front of me, she was also wearing the white cloth over her eyes. She is a new sculpture, sleek and devoid of imperfections, new and well-liked by all. A state of life in which everyone wants to see her, begging for her presence. A level where she has no expectations to carry, no grief to bear, and no other emotion to hold but joy. People haven't damaged that little girl yet, but she has damaged herself.
I let them destroy me. I let myself drown in tears as darkness engulfed me as a thick blanket covered me while the pillow waves its presence as the broken mirror opened her arm. This is the very first time I felt like I was accepted for who I really am. The white cloth over my eyes blinded me to how I really felt; it was a mask that only I was destined to wear. This mask was already stained with blood as I was carving my wrist. I sank, vanished, and will never be seen again. I was once begging for help, but maybe this is my final destination. I raised my white flag. Thinking that I will never find myself. I continue to wear the tattered white cloth as my broken life line peeks out at me.
“I wish I served you the perfect joy…”
You muttered in between the whispers of the wind, as sirens fought to burst through. When I opened my eyes, there was nothing but a plain white ceiling. It was like a blank canvas; plain, empty, and unknown. I felt a sense of peace as my fingers crawled into my cheeks. Now I'll begin to paint my canvas, curve its frame, and put on an unbreakable glass as I showered it with the rage I've earned, the sadness that we're harbored, and the joy that I've been seeking.
I yearned for nirvana as I was swindled into the heart of this maze. While striving to bring that young kid back into her menagerie. Back into her cradle as she was seeking for love, I will provide her with the solace she craves as she grows into the sculpture she never expected to become.
I was in love perhaps that's what I'm trying to believe; that I truly love the person standing above the black swamp, as the stained white cloth embraces the unfinished masterpiece standing like a barrier protecting me from being shattered once again.
WRITING PROMPT SENSES NO.2 : Have a man cooking for a woman on a third date, and have her describe the aromas in such loving and extended detail that she realizes that she’s in love with him.
I did not leave, nor did he, but the love slowly faded, drifting between us, as we sailed with our own wooden boats. As the silver dust swirled in relish under the pouring rain.
As the grass danced nimbly through the wind as the sound of the waves bangled into my ears while the sky chose to paint itself in blue as the white dust scattered on itself. My eyes gently landed on him, the curve on my lips suddenly rose up as he stroked his silvered hair while his eye stuck on the fish he was cooking under the bonfire that was set in the middle of us. I gently closed my eyes as I felt the fairly strong wind blowing in my direction.
As the smoke slowly curved into the cold air, the salty smell blending to the burning fragrant hardwood sooth into my nose The warmth that flames gave me a brief comfort as my chest crazily tumbled on its own. I tried to move further but as I changed my position I bumped into a bottle of water, abruptly opening my eyes. I saw how it slowly rolled on his side.
My heart throbbed faster as the tumble in my chest grew louder as it hit his foot. His gaze fell into the bottle and slowly looked into my figure . I was stoned as he got the bottle of water , silently looking at it and my heart started to lose its sanity as he stood up leaving the smoked fish in the middle of the burning flame . The citrusy smell tenderly mingles into the toasty, buttery, tangy, slightly spicy, and vanilla-like scent. The aroma suddenly arises between us as he walks into my direction.
I slowly nodded and he then gave me the bottle. As my hand reached into the bottle a sudden bolt of electricity popped up as my palm overlapped into his hand. I looked up and there I saw his emerald -like eyes landed straight on me. I felt goosebumps as he lifted his right hand and placed it on my chin. A few seconds have passed and its eyes seemed to be glued to mine.
“Is it yours?”, he said beneath the winds
My heart finally let go of my chest as he smiled at me and then gently stroked my hair ,lifted his head level with my temple, in that situation I chose to close my lids and there I felt his soft lips gently pressed against my forehead.
“I love you”, I said through the whispers of the wind
And by that I woke up into a realization that Sebastian will never come back. I never extended my arms enough to catch his gaze and so his eyes fell into someone I can never be.
Is love really worth the pain or is it still love when you feel the pain?
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