The Epiphany Quartet for the Lady and the Princesses

 [image from The Story of the Other Wise Man from Project Gutenberg]

The Story of the Other Wise Man was part of my usual holiday reading in my younger years.  Along with The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry, they imparted lessons of what pure love is.  That the noblest of intentions shine even though the best of efforts fall short.

As I review the past year of lost things and found treasures, I remember my real treasures.

The Lady

My mother whose light always shone bright in the wee hours of the morning. Her day starts before ours have begun.  I remember her fondly with the aroma of her kitchen cooking, whether it be fried daing, fried chicken, or the best bulalo nobody could ever duplicate.

The 3 Princesses

My eldest sister Estrellita, our little star. I remember fondly always bringing home a pasalubong of cooked dishes or dessert she picked up along the way or received as a present from a colleague, to supplement whatever dinner Nanay had prepared.

My second sister Beatriz.  Incidentally, her name means “voyager”. She voyaged beyond her comfort zone, far from home and made a home for herself in a far land.  Yet, no matter how far away she is, we know her heart is never far from ours.

My youngest sister Julie. Our moments of mirth are many. And we have created so many new words because of so many shared experiences. She had sacrificed much, caring for The Lady and the First Princess during the last years of their lives.

On the feast day of the Epiphany, or the Three Kings, I remember my Four Ladies, each with a gift for me, my life and my soul.

And I love them forever.


Our Unlived Lives

I will not live an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid, more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch,
a promise.
I choose to risk my significance;

to live,
so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

Dawna Markova

I first came across the concept Unlived Lives from my studies into the works of Joseph Campbell, American mythologist, writer, and lecturer. Campbell, a modified namesake of mine, hence I tend to take him seriously the way I do other namesakes, has a philosophy often summarized by the phrase: “Follow your bliss.”

Continue reading “Our Unlived Lives”