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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Wednesday, October 25, 2017
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- LETTING GO
Why do we resist going with the flow? Is defiance the only measure of man? Why do we always isolate things and break them down instead of simply observing the changes taking place, and concentrating on how we could fit in the relentless movement of life?
*
But Matt did not escape for very long.
He was now accosted by six pregnant girls, all wearing the same ruffled frilly brownish costumes.
From some open window, Chubby Checker’s version of “Limbo Rock” played.
The girls started dancing calypso-style.
Two girls held hands, formed the horizontal limbo rock pole. The others danced on the sides.
*
One girl, more hyper than the others, tried to go under the limbo rock bar.
Leaning backwards, walking like Frankenstein, she successfully passed through without touching the ‘bar.’
Then, it was Matt’s turn.
After his initial resistance, and much coaxing from the others, Matt deposited his guitar and knapsack with one of the girls.
Dancing a little bit, he made his attempt, and passed the limbo rock challenge successfully.
*
After that, he lost all inhibitions, and started to dance with abandon.
The girls danced with him, led him to the crowd.
They did the conga line—three shuffle steps on the beat and a kick. They did the Bakunawa Festival jig.
Then, he was carried overhead by the throng.
Like a shrimp that went with the wild tide of humanity.
*
He opened his arms, so that from above, he formed a cross that was passed along by the people who carried him overhead.
The mob looked like the crowd in Quiapo during the feast of the Black Nazarene.
It was almost a full moon.
An ethereal purple haze hovered above the island.
The sound, loud, pulsating, throbbing.
*
The island exuded a glow almost like the city’s night sky—neon, alcoholic, gaseous, stroboscopic.
Nothing romantic, nothing sweet.
Everything was spice, spicy, sensuous, sensual, senseless, sexy.
Sex!
*
On the first night of the Bakunawa Festival, Matt decided to let go and let loose.
He was surprised how good it felt.
For the first time in years, his angst (he liked the word), his bitterness, even his self-pity, melted away.
Tonight, an alcoholic haze hovers above the island, but Matt didn’t care.
*
People were having fun, enjoying themselves.
Perhaps drowning their miseries in beer and dance.
Tonight, the waves shimmered in the moonlight.
The moonlight on the water, beautiful.
The waves twinkled.
Like shimmering scales of the sea monster.
*
Something splashed in the water.
And if you listened carefully, you could almost hear the bakunawa groaning.
No one could write tonight.
Not about the saddest lines.
Not about blue stars that shiver in the distance.
Not about people loved, and lost. (To be continued)/PN
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