Up until now I remember Delfin Mercado’s column about being conservative when it comes to any expression of mirth. It was a family belief that (and I quote), “…the number of smiles would be equivalent to the number of frowns, that crying all night forebodes the coming of great joy.”
This mantra is nothing but convenient. It coaxes us to believe that all the pain, all the grief clouding our vision will eventually be replaced by merriment. It saves us from worrying about what will happen after an hour of fooling around or maybe after that bad day at the university. It serves as a formula for predicting the dynamic cycle of our emotions, even when reality mandates that this forecast be impossible.
There’s actually nothing wrong with that. I just can’t get myself to share the same belief.
I can’t imagine holding my smiles back in fear of becoming forlorn afterwards. I can’t force myself to think that there is a definite pattern of events in life–that just as oppositely – charged particles attract each other, a day well – spent will be followed by a day of sorrow.
But I feel kind of desolate today. I wonder what’s next after all this mental turmoil.