From an article by Thomas J. Stevens

Strange statement isn't it? But listen carefully because it can make a difference of success and failure in your business and private life.

Let me explain:

You may know that in India elephants are used for manual labor. But what to do with them when they are not working? How to restrain them?

Their handlers came up with the idea to "program" them while they are still very young by setting self-imposed limits into their thinking.

How does it work?

When the elephants are still small, weighing around 150 pounds they get tied up with a very heavy rope. All day long, the elephants try to get rid of it, whine, tug at it and some of them even try to chew it. But they can't break free.

Finally, the elephant gives up and the fight is over. From this moment on, they strongly believe that there is absolutely no chance to get rid of the rope.

They accept the "fact" that the rope limits them. And with this imprinted belief in place, their handlers are able to tie them with extremely small ropes, even as adults weighing 8,000 pounds and more, they never attempt to break free, because they "know" they have no chance at all!

As you can see, the elephants limit are not real but exist only in their mind.

We also have built-in boundaries. They are also not real but exist only in our minds. But it doesn't have to stay this way. Our negative belief systems don't have to limit us for good.

If you truly want to become successful and are not kidding yourself, you can change your inner belief system, your attitude, and break your inner boundaries.

You always have the inner strength, the personal power to change everything in your life for the better.

And never act like an elephant.

Again, this is but just a simple reminder that we should not be content of what we are, we should strive to find the meaning of our existence. Soon, we will be amazed by how powerful the God in us is, for we can achieve beyond what we imagine possible.

Note:

This is taken from one of the sharings Miriam, a CLE teacher in our school,  gave during our pre-service last May. Hope we can share the same insight as we had during the event.

At last, after almost a month, yesterday, I was able to turn the last page of the book "The Pilgrimage". And I can't help but sigh in relief and in awe how beautiful and poetic Coelho has conveyed his message of fighting the good fight with its mysterious, seemingly magical approach.

The novel, despite my knowledge that it is an account of Paulo Coelho's real experience to his way to the Road of San Tiago made wonder, actually ask myself and some friends, whether everything that happened, every detail he has related were really true. Or did he just talk in mysterious ways so as to drive at his point with impact and greater influence to his readers.

"Ah!", I told myself, "Now I'm acting like the common folks who only believe after a miracle has been performed. What else is there to look for, when my very own existence is already a mystery in itself. Life thriving in every corner of this universe and beyond it is enough proof that there is someone far greater than us."

And the secret of Paulo's sword so he will gain possession of it is so simple. So simple that we can say, Paulo is indeed one of us for he too, was not able to realize that in time for the ritual the Tradition has performed in the castle of the Order of the Templars in Ponferrada. He was almost at the end of his journey through the mysterious road when he was able to realize the reason for all his struggles.

We are often like Paulo too, we exist, we are present, but we don't know why. We struggle to achieve something without knowing the right way to attain our dreams, fight the good fight and why we have set such goals. Lucky are those who do struggle and know why they do, but pity to those who don't and die without realizing the meaning of their existence and why they have to dream and achieve their dreams.

Let me quote:

"And the secret of my sword, like the secret of any conquest we make in our lives, was the simplest thing in the world: it was what I should do with the sword.

I had never thought in these terms. Throughout our time on the Strange Road to Santiago, the only thing I had wanted to know was where it was hidden. I had never asked myself why I wanted to find it or what I needed it for. All of my efforts had been bent on reward; I had not understood that when we want something, we have to have a clear purpose in mind for the thing that we want. The only reason for seeking a reward is to know what to do with the reward. And this was the secret of my sword."

If only all of us know this, too, we are more able to muster all of our strength and enthusiasm, our faith, hope and love – the kind of love that consumes, agape and live better lives. Then world will be a better place to live in to. Indeed, we don't need to walk that Road to Santiago and find our sword too like Paulo, we are pilgrims in our own lives. The way we live this life and clarity of our goals are, are the things that mattered. All rivers lead to the same sea. In God's house, there are many mansions. In life, we have a numerous paths. The path is not important. What is important is how we stride the path and we let the path walk us through.

Note:

As for the RAM exercises in the book I promise to include in my entries, I find it difficult to post. Not because I lack the time, but I want to pave respect to the Tradition and to the sacredness of the rituals. I feel incapable and unworthy to do so. Hope you understand.

To Mr. Paulo Coelho, I admire your enthusiasm, the fire of agape burning within you which you share in every word you write, ignites the same fire within us, your readers. Thank you for the inspiration. Accept too my apologies for always including in my blogs your writings. For having copied the text as it appeared on your books; this is because I am afraid that my words might not be enough to express what you mean. But there are times like this that I try to explain what I thought of about what you have said and may have explained it too simple or my insights might sometime be wrong, this is because I struggle too in my search for meaning. Either way, thank you for your understanding.

The Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis tells how, as a child, he found a cocoon attached to a tree and saw that the butterfly inside the cocoon was just preparing to emerge. He waited for some time, but because the process seemed so long drawn out, he decided to speed things up. He began to warm the cocoon with his breath. However, when the butterfly did finally emerge, its wings were still stuck together, and it died a short time afterwards.
 
‘What it required was patient ripening by the sun, and I could not wait,’ says Kazantzakis. ‘Even now, that small corpse is one of the greatest weights I have on my conscience. But it taught me what is truly a mortal sin: to force the great laws of the universe. We must be patient and wait for the right moment and gladly follow the rhythm God has chosen for our life.’

by Paulo Coelho (http://paulocoelhoblog.com)

Life is a rhythm. Everything in life is rhythmically designed. Everything in you and me.

The beat of our heart. The breathing in and out of our lungs. The palpitation of our pulse. The workings of our organs to achieve homeostasis. The sweating off from glands. The grumbling of our stomach when it is hungry. The movement of our body as it strides to its destination. The opening and closing of our eyes. The strands of hair on our scalp. The bones connected by hinges within us. The fibers of every muscle that cling to our bones. The nails artistically situated in every finger and toe. The sexual harmony shared by man and woman. The sound of voice. Laughter. Steps. Claps. Chants. Songs. Speech. The occurence of meiosis and mitosis, dividing simple cells to a splendid life with body and soul. You. Me.

Life is a rhythm. Everything in life is rhythmically designed. Everything in nature.

The swaying of the grass. The opening of a bud. The falling of dried leaves from its branches and the shooting of a new one off the same location. The germination of a seed. The rustling of the same dried leaves all piled up together blown by the wind. The wind whispers its own rhythm. The clit-clattering of raindrops on the ground. The splash of play. The dance of fire. The soundless clamor of the soil. The pebbles rolling down a cliff or as carried by the river. The ripples it creates when thrown to the sea by a lonely soul. The sound of animals. The chatting of the insects and all that crawl upon the earth. The chirping of the birds and all that travails the sky. The twinkling of the stars. The movement of planets. The revolution of each. The appearance of the moon. The heat of the sun. The occurence of eclipse.

Everything. If I forgot to mention some things, please remind me.

But all the beauty of this rhythm depends upon man's virtue -- PATIENCE!

Pursue achievable goals

Keep genuine smiles

Share with others

Help thy neighbors

Maintain a youthful spirit

Get along with the poor, the rich, the beautiful and the ugly

Keep cool under pressure

Lighten the atmosphere with humor

Forgive the annoyance of others

Have a few pals

Cooperate and reap greater rewards

Treasure every moment with your love ones

Have a high confidence in yourself

Respect the disadvantage

Indulge yourself occasionally

Surf the net leisurely

Take calculated risks

Understand that money isn't everything

Well, have you evaluated yourself so far?

From which of the tips above have you practiced most often?

And from which have you practiced the least? Or even haven't even for once in your life?

As for me, I don't think I have to answer. My blogs tell what I do the most.

The least? Argh! That I have to still work on.

By the way, this is courtesy of the many forwarded messages my friends e-mail me everyday. Hope I can post more of like this stuff.

Have a nice day everyone!

There are two seas in Palestine. They are both very different. One is called the Sea of Galilee. It is a lake with clean fresh water from which people can drink. Fish and people swim in it. It is surrounded by green fields and gardens. Many people have built  their homes near to it. Jesus sailed across it many times.

The other big body of water is called the Dead Sea, and it really lives up to its name. Everything about it is dead. The water is so salty that one would get sick from trying to drink it. It has no fish. Nothing grows along its bank. No one wants to live anywhere near its unpleasant smell.

The interesting thing about these bodies of water is that, the same river flows into both of them. So what makes the difference? Just this one: one receives and gives; the other receives and keeps.

The Jordan River flows into the top of the Sea of Galilee and out the bottom. The lake uses the water and then passes it on for other use. The Jordan then flows into the Dead Sea and never gets out again. The Dead Sea selfishly keeps it only for itself. This makes it dead. It gets and never gives.

- Two Seas in Palestine by John Marsabwlla

   in 1000 Stories You Can Use, pages 1-2

   by Fr. Frank Mihalic, SVD

This was the opening story of Ma'am Alma's sharing in our meeting a while back. The topic of our meeting: Connections!

Isn't that amazing? A meeting on bridging the gaps people created within themselves and among themselves?!! This is what makes our Departmental meetings in school unique. We are not much interested in winning the war of the brains people of today are preoccupied with. But we are more concerned in rebuilding human nature which manifests itself in complete and genuine harmony of what Jesus has exemplified.

Now I don't think I can resign from this Institution without crying a river...

Simplicity.

Spontaneity.

Play.

These are the three things that alternately appear in my mind while I was heading home. (There is but just a short distance I have to toddle from the highway to our house.) Last night, the air was cooler than usual. There was a silent breeze sweeping through my face. I could even hear the rustling of dried leaves rolling off the empty street. As well as the tender swishing of leaves cuddled by the trees' branches. The nocturnal insects are also in harmony with the gentle tunes sung by nature.

It was almost nine then. In our little town, this time was already a holy hour. Streetlamps are alight, tricycles are scarce, only a few people walk around the plaza, and silence predominates the sound of opened television sets in houses that usually stood apart from one another. I can hear some murmurs from the unlocked windows I passed by. Some giggles of kids running about their humble dwellings.

I walked slower than my usual pace. I decided to close my eyes and savor the breeze against my skin, the melodious unity of sounds in my ear, the darkness and tint of light getting through my shut eyes, the scent of some smoke from burning leaves I was able to notice a little while later combined with the aroma of the rich vegetation from the nearby field found their way to my nostrils and made my tummy rumble then suddenly, even without any food fed in my mouth, I got to taste some bitter-sweet tang lining my palate, the sensation of my feet, even with my shoes on felt bare with the occasional presence of pebbles crumbling here and there, and the impression I get from walking in the dark, alone with nature made me aware of my existence.

I really am alive. I can feel. I can see. I can hear. I can smell. I can taste. But the most important thing is, I am one with God's creation. And God is with me. I am never alone. Even in the midst of seemingly deserted place, I have company. There is God in all that is there. He is the breeze. He is in the leaves, robust or dried ones. He is in every vegetation that grows, along the streets or in fertile ground.  He is the pebbles, in stones and in rocks. He is in the nocturnal animals that sometimes scare me when I pass by our street in moonless nights. Now even the starless sky tells me He is there. The earth I step on is He. He is the road I travel every night. And all other roads I take. My existence is not coincidental. He created me. I am special.

Simplicity.

Spontaneity.

Play.

Hope these three words would again guide me the next time I let them take full control of me. The next time, I shall discover not just my existence and the God in every entity and within myself, but also the purpose of my being.

Simplicity.

Spontaneity.

Play.

P.S.

Try them. They won't harm you.

Your confidence and your sense of mastery depend a great deal on how you react to threats made by others.

A threat leads to nothing if it is not accepted. In fighting the good fight, you should not forget that. Just as you should never forget that both attacking and fleeing are part of the fight. What isn't a part of the fight is becoming paralyzed by fear.

- Petrus, The Pilgrimage

  By Paulo Coelho

Perhaps by now you know how gradual I read the current book under my perusal. Like what I have said, I lack the luxury of time no matter how much I wish I could move on to the next book in my reading list. But I find this pace more advantageous. I mean, I have all the time (Now that may sound ironic!) to contemplate after every chapter how I could relate it to my personal experiences. And I am one hell of a lucky person because my every fall has some Coelho line or two that would retrieve my dampened spirit back to its struggle and back to my reality.

And a while back, inside the bus on my way to work (as usual), I have come across with the above lines.   And so I went on with my contemplation as I integrate it with the lines I have posted last Saturday.

I admitted I was envious in some ways to what my friends have achieved. Well, that is how I interpreted my feelings. But my introspection told me I was not necessarily envious with their achievement, because for a fact, I have my little own, too, but I was more focused on the earthly wealth those achievements suggest.

My envy is instigated by other people. But it all boils down to the fact that this envy is a threat to my confidence and sense of mastery to conquer my dreams.

Yes, I too felt fear. Fear of not being able to conquer my devil. Fear of not achieving the expectations I have set for myself, not just the dreams I have fantasized in my mind which I vocally expressed but also the plans I have weaved for my kids and my family. Fear of not being able to be who I was purposely born for. And fear of many other unknown faces of my existence, my devils.

And these fears made me so insecure of my ability to achieve and even doubt my potential to be. But thanks to Petrus who told Paulo not to be paralyzed by his fear. I too would take his word that I should not be paralyzed by these fears. Even if Petrus might laugh at me if he would come across this blog (Umasa ba?) and he would repeat to me the same lines he told Paulo with the presence of the nun. To those who have read The Pilgrimage, I know that you know too well what I am referring to, but to those who haven't, let me just quote Petrus' lines (even this may fail to encapsulate the whole scenario):

"…When you sensed the presence of something positive, your imagination concluded that someone had arrived to help you. And this, your faith, saved you. Even though it was based on an assumption that was absolutely false."

I seem to be that. I assume, as Petrus and others may perceive that the lines I read from The Pilgrimage are directly and intentionally for me because of my experiences at the moment. I just do hope, my faith in Petrus' lines would redeem me like Paulo from the calls of evil.

Ah! Life space. I interpret the things around me as some conspiracy designed by the cosmic powers that travails my hemisphere. Argh! Poetic? Nah! I'm just playing with words… again.

Like I have said, blogging is cathartic for me. This is my avenue for expression. At the same time my way of negating the ill feelings I start to sense building within me. Actually too, I have sought the help of an expert about my feelings of envy. I was a bit pacified because she said that these feelings arise as part of human nature. It is not wrong. It only becomes wicked when my envy eats up my sanity and I devise devilish schemes to kill my source of envy not by knives though but by the power of my words. In Filipino slang, chismis or paninirang-puri (fabrication of issues to dehumanize others); which I am not capable of.

And let me go back to blogging. Aside from its cathartic effect on me, it also gives me a sense of fulfillment because I am able to share a part of who I am to people I actually do not know and inspire them (as they claim) in more ways than one. And just last week, I forgot to mention may be because my envy then was guzzling me up, Nice (a reader and blog visitor) told me that my entry "I am a Certified Bookworm" was posted by Paulo Coelho himself in his blogsite http://paulocoelho.com and she too appreciated the booklist I presented along with another blog visitor.

Imagine how euphoric I was! The renowned Bestselling Author of The Alchemist among all others actually visited my site and skim read a few of my entries (I presume because the entry he posted was not the day's recent post and to the bloggers, you know what that means) and chose to post in his site a simple prose written by an aspiring writer like me. And so after checking my entry on Coelho's site (News section, now in the Archives), I got to have that sense of achievement. My enthusiasm in writing was ablazed even more.

Yeah! This is what I am driving at. The fight I am fighting is not seeking achievement with material compensation. My fight is to experience the love that consumes. Agape.

Now it has become clearer to me as I write this blog and integrate my recent analysis to previous stored introspections in my memory bank, that my devil is not a dog with many faces but money and the power and prestige it promises. If you may recall with me, the reason why my American dream was born was because of my need to help those who have helped us during Mama's suffering. My purpose was to finance my dream to build a school for children with special needs who are growing in number in our locality but has no facilities to provide them with the quality intervention they deserve. My reason too was to get myself back to school (with my kids of course going to the best schools) and finish a degree in Clinical Psychology and be an author of books in Psychology and stuff that could give life more meaning for people.

Rationalizing?

I may be. Yes I am. But it is only through seeking your own reality and questioning your own intentions that you can give more meaning, deeper that is, to your own existence.

So be it…

Which kind of love are you talking about: eros, philos or agape?

Eros is the usual love that exists between two people.

Philos is love in friendships. It is also that love felt when the flame of eros stopped burning between couples and still they stick together.

While agape is the love that consumes. And this may be experienced in the form of enthusiasm.

Enthusiasm meant trance or ecstacy -- a connection with God. Enthusiasm is agape directed at a particular idea or a specific thing. We have all experienced it. When we love and believe from the bottom of our heart, we feel ourselves to be stronger than anyone in the world, and we feel a serenity that is based on the certainty that nothing can shake our faith.

- Petrus, The Pilgrimage

I was very vocal in my past entries how disillusioned I was after attending that seminar for aspiring teachers to the US. It seemed to me that all of my hopes and dreams all crumbled to my feet like some quivering protoplasm withdrawn from its source of nurturance.

The more disheartened I was after a week when my friend called me up telling me she received a call from the agency to attend the orientation for interview. This just meant that she has some chances I didn't have to get an interview from some prospective employers. Another fact: She didn't attend the seminar. I only fed her the details. That pulled the trigger of disillusionment right on my head.

The week after, another friend who is already in the US e-mailed me she has already paid that debt she had in a bank just to go to the US. Next month, she might have a car. This December, she might come home for vacation. Envy? Yeah, right that you are. Envy consumed that little hope I have.

Last week, two friends e-mailed me. They said they are processing their US visa. Come next year, they might be spending the summer there. Good for them, eh?!

Last night, with all the failures I directed to myself, I asked my husband, "What would be our resort if in case I won't be getting a job in the US?"

He answered with a grin on his face, "Well, honey, I don't have any idea. Actually, I don't ever think about it. Believe me, you will get that job you want."

Nice push!

My brother also texted me, "If it will happen, it will happen. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Am I being hard on myself?

This morning, in my way to graduate college, I brought out The Pilgrimage (I honestly haven't finish reading the book yet. This is my third week, I guess. I don't really have the luxury of time to finish the book. I only read it inside the bus to my way to work and home and school.) and went on reading as usual inside the moving vehicle.

Then I reached the agape thing. Then enthusiasm. Then that page on regaining enthusiasm. Then the Blue Sphere Exercise. The moving bus didn't stop me from feeling the blue waves strike my system. The noisy people that moves about in the bus didn't mean a thing. That spark was there. Playing in my mind. Getting through my veins.

To those who have read the book, they know what I am talking about. I mean, it seemed the whole world stopped with the lines as I read them. The words are so powerful that my imagination worked with every description. And I seem to actually experience that blue sphere consuming my being.

The driver's yell dragged me back to reality. And I promised to myself, I shall perform the exercise. My only problem now is: With whom?

Nah!

Disheartenment is failure to see the importance of your struggle. I feel some degree of shame. I thought I was fighting the good fight. But I wasn't. I am not. Because I still haven't searched that substance that will keep my dream from sparkling even in the midst of darkness.

Indeed, I am a pilgrim... still searching for purpose and meaning.

What is there behind my US dreams?

Wealth?

Pristege?

Power?

All seem so earthly for me.

Ah! Blogging even gives me more meaning because my realizations I am able to express in words and share to people, touch them in some way even when we move in different planes.

Life space?

Yeah, move about in different life spaces.

Sour graping?

Sweet lemoning? (If there seems to be a term.)

I hope not. I am just expressing my thoughts... for now.

Coldness That Shivers

Dawn of June 12, 2004

The coldness of day seems endlessly journeying in the portals of my soul – tearing my sanity into bits of agonizing pieces. Darkness is the only luminous sight. Silence is the only audible sound. Both of which, the beat of the heart has succumb to their powers.

Then a voice suddenly whispered to my ear, "Run… run as fast as you can. Run towards the nearing dawn. The night is almost through."

But I cannot move my feet. I wanted to challenge the night to at least break the stars free from the thick clouds of which man calls suffering. Or maybe, I wanted to sneak through the night – for it is the only place where I could feel the happiness of the past that has been grabbed away from me. Or yet maybe, still, I am hoping to find a chance to steal from death my beloved mother who has cradled me from a single cell to what I have become.

But I know that the time is up. Got myself a poor bargain. God has finally decided to take her beside Him – where darkness becomes light, silence becomes music, and death and suffering becomes a pathway of petals and crown of glory.

Yes, the time is up. It has come to an end. God's sun has brought the day… ending the darkness of night. But soon… my night shall befall me.

Somebody might also want to grab my night away from me and bargaining shall be of no value, and God will intercede again…

And by then I shall plead, "Please don't stop the shivering coldness, for it is in this darkness of death that I shall see my Mama once again."

Yes, the time shall soon come where darkness becomes light, silence becomes music, and death and suffering becomes a pathway of petals and crown of glory.

Soon… when my time is up.

Soon…

God! I almost fell from my swivel when I heard my phone ring. I was as serious as hell writing an entry about my Father. I was about to explode in tears emoting when I clicked on my phone and heard the usual playful voice on the other end of the line. Well, even if I would be seemingly dead, I would recognize Aurora's voice.

I said, "Hey girl, wazzup!"

She demanded an explanation why I did not call her.

"The nerve!", I hissed. "What for?"

"So you could make a good continuation of that entry you posted about my love life. You kept it hanging for sometime, the readers might lose their ganacity to finish my story."

Argh!

"Hello! Then it's my fault?! You must have forgotten that you hanged up on me. It is I, my dear Aurora, whose credibility and reputation that was put to a hook. Just reminding you, in case you have forgotten."

Then she was laughing like some loony that I almost dropped the phone for fear that she must be really out of her mind because of Romualdo. Then I voiced out my fear. The more that she laughed. After some minutes though, her laughter faded (but it seemed echoing in my head).

"You sure, you wanna continue writing your entry about me?", she asked.

I hesitated for a moment, "Sure!", I declared after realizing that this might be a good indication that she is now ready to talk. At least I could have a share in helping her unload some burdens.

So she went on…

"After Romualdo, I met Honorio (with a silent "H" – mabantot pa rin). He was witty, fun to be with, like a combination of Renato and Diomedes but different."

I blurted, "Idiosyncratic!" (Sounds familiar, eh!)

She agreed with the term. Though I was thinking of another working definition (like Research) which means, I mean a shorter term for "Idiot!" (Ain't I creative?) I wish to include "savant" to the term because he is an expert – a real expert manipulator. Why? Read on, dudes!

Aurora simply ignored my side comment. She continued…

"Honorio is such a gentleman. He would feed me good sumptuous meals. He would buy me chocolates and roses and shower me with soft shy kisses."

"Shy? Uh! Really? A real idiot!", I unintentionally uttered in a frisky tone. But now, I don't know for whom the term applies to – is it with Honorio or Aurora?

Because as far as I know, the guy sucks! During those times she was courting Aurora, he was dating some other girls. He dated them in the same places where he brought her to feed those good sumptuous meals. He bought the same chocolates and roses for those others whom he claimed girl-friends. He was sweet to almost every girl in school. He was a gentleman so she admires, but I think he was a scheming wolf. In fact, he gave me that same chocolate and that same rose he bought for Aurora. In fact, he brought me to that same diner where he brought Aurora the following night. I knew it because I followed him after he dropped me off at my apartment. I knew it because he is the same guy my boardmate saw coming out from an apartelle early morning where a same promiscuous young woman lives. I bet my head off, both did not have a good night sleep.

Aurora knew those facts, but I wasn't sure she realized she was falling off his bait. Yes, she did. I just confirmed it, right now.

Honestly, I didn't know what to say because this guy was the reason why Aurora and I had a little misunderstanding that was blown into a full length disagreement that lasted almost a decade. She mistook me flirting with the idiot guy!   

I reminded her. She was apologetic at first but we both felt the rush of laughter at the incident. Those were our childish foolishness. Damn the man! Really… damn him!

Guy number five is Liaracious. Sounds delicious, eh. Indeed he is yummy as Aurora claimed he is. But like Honorio, Ejercito (Irap ba? Liar nga!) is also an expert – expert liar. Sometimes he believes in his lies as his reality that when you try to check and balance his universe, you become the criminal. Duh!

Next guy, please!!!

But Aurora seem not to hear me. She persisted.

"Don't be so hard on the guy, girl. I know he just loved me so much that's why he made up those stories to impress me, my family and other people. He is afraid to lose me because he always tells me I am his life. And that he would die if we would not end up together."

"And you believed him?", I snapped (the real villain that I am), "Aren't you still convinced that the guy has some personality problem? He thinks the whole world admires him. He even thinks I liked him."

"Isn't it true?"   

"Aurora!"

"Okay, well. In some ways…"

"In some ways what? You believe me but in some ways you don't. Is that it? You too are crazy. Don't tell me you're still in love with the guy."

"Hell, no!!!", she almost broke my eardrum with that. "I mean, of course, I did love him. I actually realized that after some time. Even when the moon is round and I feel a little chill he might struck me with his pocket knife each time. Uh! I still loved the guy."

"Now the real lunatic is talking."

Aurora giggled. "I think I'm ready with guy number six."

"So you love him?"

"Sort of… I mean, I almost kinda fell for him."

I gave her my silence.

"Okay! Okay! I'm deeply in love with the guy. I think this is what they call real love."

Again, my silence.

"Fine. I know this is wrong. All of my relationships are wrong. The more that this is wrong. I mean, Husbandtolitis is pretty much like the others…"

I burst out laughing with the name she branded guy number six. It sounds like some kind of bacterial infection.

Aurora agreed. "He really is like an infection consuming my system."

"God, you're serious."

"Yes I am. But I know this would lead me nowhere."

"Like the others."

"Yeah, like the others."

Now, it was Aurora's turn to be silent.

"Are you still on the line?"

"Yeah."

Again… silence.

"Maria?"

"Yeah."

"I think tomorrow I'm going to Ruth's house. Can you come with me?"

A little doubt embraced me. But God knows I felt a tinge of hope. And hesitation. "Why?"

"It's time for me to settle things with my wife… once and for all."