The Distinct Joy of Being Invisible

Bloggers Note: This blog post below is the very first post that gives spotlight on the things that are usually not given importance. The blog also comes with photographs that break the rules of photography, in the blogger's pursuit to take his penchant for documentary photography into a more serious level. This blog post (and the upcoming posts of this sort) also comes with a supplementary mini-magazine posted online which will serve as an online portfolio of the blogger.  This, above all, is the product of a dream finally coming into fruition. As what the tagline of this blog masquerading as an edict: Leave no Story Untold.

*  *  * *  *  * *  *  * *  *  * *  *  * 

Dark clouds enveloped the sky one night in Tagum, promising a cold night in this part of the planet. Soon after, droplets of rain started to startle everybody in this place called the Night Market where the heavy downpour of rain poses a grave threat to the merchants and an equal dismay to their patrons.

And this is where I found myself one night--amazed with how a busy street in broad daylight transform into a bustling night market at the fall of dusk. From the moment the sun kisses the western sky, stalls sprout in the busy streets like mushrooms and leave in the wee hours of the morning, just before the mighty sun rises up and brings in a new day full of hope. The usual sight of people from all walks of life happily dining or haggling over pre-owned clothes or designer bags or branded shoes would surely leave an impression that night life is more fun in this part of the world.

The strong wind or this excessive energy present in the area probably blew the dark clouds on that Sunday night. This is also when I felt I was invisible. My romance with my camera, I then realized, was a travesty of invisibility.

I am adamant that it is this invisibility enabled me to see things on a large scale and differently. My amazement of the place was only short-lived as my attention was grabbed by persons selling customized balloons. This scene exudes a patina of happiness in a place where people seems to brush it off. Except for children, of course. As usual, and as each of us could have experienced then, the radiant glow of excitement and happiness is evidenced the moment a child lets hold of the tiny string of the balloon and making sure it doesn't let go up in the air. To put it succinctly in our own tongue, hawak mo na happiness mo, bakit ka pa bibitaw? 

It is in this premise that my concept of happiness comes in: to claim the things and to hold dear in our hearts the persons or things that make us happy. It is a state of one's mind; a choice rather than fate. But we must also acknowledge the fact that the world that we live in is not perfect. Jose Mari Ugarte complained that we are born into it through the pain of our mothers and raised in it suffering failures, disappointments, sadness, prejudice and hate.

But since the world is not perfect, it cannot be perfectly bad. We also have triumphs, joys, tolerance and above all, love. And it is love that makes this journey through this vale of tears a wonder. As what they say, without pain, the heart is hollow.

By choice, or perhaps by default, my frames were dominated by pictures of balloons on that Sunday night and enjoyed the feeling of invisibility like I never experienced it before. Past sweet couples holding hands while walking, past family members and circle of friends grinning, past people bordering on the obnoxious was me and my camera– savoring that distinct happiness of snapping photographs in this happy place.

The moment you find yourself gallivanting in this place or in any other public place, take a moment to observe things and realize the richness of stories that can be found in each person or things that thrive here. Bring a camera if you please, preserve memories and be charmed with the same spell of invisibility that I enjoyed. If you do, do it with a light heart and without a doubt, you can never go wrong.

L.

Here's the rest of the photographs, bounded together in this special maiden issue of the Sprinkles:

Open publication - Free publishing - More happiness

Orion's Belt

After a long and exhausting day and whenever I have free time, I would usually solace myself by sitting alone in one corner under a dark sky illuminated by twinkling, little stars. Whenever I get lucky, I would usually spot a falling star which will be gone long before I close my eyes to mumble a wish. Most of us would agree that the joy of childhood prompts us to believe in the beauty of wishes. But our childhood never taught us that the power of making our wishes a reality lies in our own hands, if only we are committed to dramatically turn it into a stunning reality. When I was a little, I remember myself wishing of things like “choco bread,” “brake grames,” or a “bicycle.” Later, these would be like “good grades,” “good health,” “a complete and happy family,” or even “knowledge,” following a hard-day struggle with algebra. Everybody in the class would agree that I have a hate-hate relationship with Mathematics, to the fact that I am cursing it to death. Looking back, it made me realized how simple dreams transformed into big ones. The star-gazing sessions stroked a chord in me to dream and to dream big time.

Just a little while ago after eating my self-prepared dinner, I stayed for about an hour looking up to the astronomical wonders twinkling in a backdrop of a black sky. Just like the old times, it elicited that sense of relaxation—finding yourself waiting for a star to fall then make a snappy wish. I never sighted one earlier but the sixty minutes I spent outside with pesky mosquitoes gave me the idea of the universality of making wishes and the elicit pursuit for happiness. All across the globe—may it be in Korea, in Europe, in the States or even in the forgotten corners of Africa—young and old ones alike would testify to the veracity of this claim.