Acres of Diamonds

There was a farmer in Africa who was happy and content. He was happy because he was content. He was content because he was happy. One day a wise man came to him and told him about the glory of diamonds and the power that goes along with them. The wise man said, "If you had a diamond the size of your thumb, you could have your own city. If you had a diamond the size of your fist, you could probably own your own country." And then he went away. That night the farmer couldn't sleep. He was unhappy and he was discontent. He was unhappy because he was discontent and discontent because he was unhappy.

The next morning he made arrangements to sell off his farm, took care of his family and went in search of diamonds. He looked all over Africa and couldn't find any. He looked all through Europe and couldn't find any. When he got to Spain, he was emotionally, physically and financially broke. He got so disheartened that he threw himself into the Barcelona River and committed suicide.

Back home, the person who had bought his farm was watering the camels at a stream that ran through the farm. Across the stream, the rays of the morning sun hit a stone and made it sparkle like a rainbow. He thought it would look good on the mantle piece. He picked up the stone and put it in the living room. That afternoon the wise man came and saw the stone sparkling.

He asked, "Is Hafiz back?" The new owner said,

"No, why do you ask?" The wise man said,

"Because that is a diamond. I recognize one when I see one."

The man said, no, that's just a stone I picked up from the stream. Come, I'll show you. There are many more."

They went and picked some samples and sent them for analysis. Sure enough, the stones were diamonds. They found that the farm was indeed covered with acres and acres of diamonds.*

The victim of my own blind self

Today, before daybreak I had a dream...

I was standing alone, in a solitary waiting-shed. Its roof is rusty and full of holes supported by dilapidated concrete posts, the supporting steel bars are exposed, protruding like broken bones.

It was the only structure in that old one-way highway which seems to be leading nowhere – to eternity I supposed.

I looked at the horizon hoping to see where the highway ends, but it just converged into a tiny dot, unmoving against the dancing dusts on that gloomy day.

I am calmly waiting for the bus. I just stand there motionless, anxiously staring at the other end of the highway, hoping for the bus to come, occasionally looking at the setting sun - or was it rising?… I don’t know.

Then a boy with a backpack, wearing a school uniform suddenly appear as if he just get off a school bus, smiled at me and said, “Tatlong beses ng dumaan yung bus!” [The bus passed by three times already!]
I was shocked because I didn’t saw any.

Then I woke up, drenched with sweat and confused.

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Epilogue

I always admire the patience of the river snails and the tenacity of the cogon grass – qualities that, I believe was the result of a long period of time spent waiting. Hence, I programmed myself to wait.

I always wait; for things as mundane as waiting for the bus, the fastfood queue, for the water to boil, for the heavy rain to fall, for my hair to grow; OR for grand events like the Noche Buena, a perfect relationship, a son, and a final chance to hold those I love…

What if those very important things, I hold most dear and longingly waited for is already here or already passed by, repeatedly presenting itself to me. I just don’t recognize it, refused to recognize it or just plainly ignore it – because ambition, pride or whatever WTF blinded me.

Or maybe because I just don’t really know what I am waiting for. Letting life slip by without noticing the important but very simple details.

Now I know why I always felt I’ve waited long enough – because I am a victim of my own blind self.

Have you ever felt that way too? Or maybe I am just tired and bored.