Flock of Flightless Birds

    

By: Charlize Veatrice Ong

    When I started college, I was thrown out of my comfort zone and given all the responsibilities that I had only encountered once I stepped into the university life. I was given the task to enlist my classes, prepare my payment for university fees, overcome my overly reserved persona and socialize with the people that would later help me get past Monday blues. Eight months in the Ateneo and I found myself surrounded by people I consider as family, they have seen me sweat, laugh, and cry over the silliest things during my first and second semester. Despite all of our differences, I couldn’t have been more thankful to have spent my last taste of freedom with them.

    When the lockdown was first announced, I have to admit I felt relieved to have been given a seemingly short break from the hustle and bustle of Katipunan. Although a few weeks in the lockdown and the gravity and threats of the virus dawned on me. During the peak of quarantine, when I looked outside my window it felt like looking at a dead city. Everyone was stuck inside their house, scared of getting infected with the virus. It felt as though the virus had clipped our wings and placed us inside a cage, making us watch as our lives drift in front of our eyes. When online classes started, I realized that it was harder to study in the comfort of my home, a place I’d been accustomed to rest in. It felt physically and mentally draining to pour my energy towards school when I was tempted to relax at my house. 

    When I read Descartes’ Meditation on the First  Philosophy, I was reminded of a time when I questioned my life’s significance during the quarantine. A part of me was deceived by social media into thinking that we would never get past the pandemic, and so I was tempted to give up on everything that was important to me: my school, my friends, and even my family. I started to doubt myself and my capabilities. This time it wasn’t the virus that had caged me, it was my own train of thoughts. It came to a point where I started ignoring everyone and everything that I cared about. My mom, who raised me on her own, had told me just how hurt she was by my actions. It became a warning, it woke me before I could go any further into destroying my life over something that I could control. Last December, on my birthday, I had deactivated all of my social media accounts to try and avoid any strong emotions that could trigger my anxiety again, and so I decided that every Sabbath day I would set my phone aside and think of all the blessings that God has bestowed upon me and my family. This social media retention helps me look back on where I stand, how far I’ve come in my life, and just how much my life means to other people as well. There was a time, a few months in the quarantine, when I would open my phone and news of death would greet me and even then I’d still get up from bed, hopeful that we’d somehow come up with a cure. A cure that would restore the strength of those that have been infected by the virus. A cure that would mend the sorrows felt by the families of those who have departed. A cure that would somehow bring back the time we lost during the lockdown. 

    Today, as I look outside my window, I see a flock of birds able to enjoy each others’ company and fly from one place to another. It didn’t matter to them if they were a meter apart or less. They were safe from all the threats that the virus imposed upon us, and most of all they were free. Free to happily roam around the city together. They were unaware of just how envious I was of their freedom. Despite my jealousy, I smile. I smile because I am hopeful that in a few more months we’ll be able to have just as much freedom as they do once the vaccine avails itself to the masses.