Eversince I could remember, as early as three years old, I watched a cartoon special right off RPN 9 [the prime local network in the 70’s to 80’s, with all their MacGyver, Chips, Million Dollar Man, Wonder Woman, Hawaii Five-O and other canned TV shows that then dominated the tube]. I could even remember it was Yule Season and the cartoon show showcased a Christmas story of beautiful long-tailed bird that cried tears with healing capacities, a melodious voice, a flowing tail and fiery yet not intimidating wings that moved and flew with the grace of royalty. The bird created a big impact in my life. I am blessed with a very photographic memory and this cartoon program was one of my very vivid recollections despite that very young age.
It was later when I learned that the bird was a Phoenix; a mystical bird with origins in Egypt, from the Sun God Ra that dies every five centuries and rises renewed from its ashes.
It was later when I learned that the bird was a Phoenix; a mystical bird with origins in Egypt, from the Sun God Ra that dies every five centuries and rises renewed from its ashes.
I knew, even in my young mind that I am a personification of the Phoenix. And the more I learned about the bird, the more I am convinced that I am a Phoenix with the capacity to heal, receive a bullet for someone I bestow my unconditional loyalty and have an immortal disposition especially when principles are at stake. I always die in the midst of fighting for people and fighting for situations that entail a solid undertaking yet always resurrect for yet another battle; more often than not for the people I love and protect.
But as beautiful and as grand as the bird, the Phoenix is very lonely. It is doomed to soliloquy.
It is destined to be alone.
The Phoenix was created to live for others yet it cannot not live for itself.
The Phoenix exists for Messianic purposes, yet it doesn’t have the ability to save itself.
The Firebird creates relationships yet relationships leave it when the purpose for the relationship has been served.
Whether soliloquy is a legend that created the existence of the Phoenix or whether it is a curse to complement its existence for greatness, this bird has accepted it.
But it does not erase the pain of loneliness of being alone.
The Phoenix wings serve as its defense. In fiery radiance they spread and engulf itself in the warmth and security of its flames. It is an absolute embrace to brace itself from impending pain and sadness.
The Phoenix has a great capacity to love and therefore accepts that because of its great capacity to love, there is an equal greatness of sacrifice and personal pain to be endured. But the Phoenix does these wholeheartedly; that in its personal pain is an equal joy knowing that in its aloneness, others can be happy.
The Phoenix has never been good at separations. Whether it be temporary or permanent. But if the separation is needed to make someone happier, there is joy in feeling the other’s happiness. For the Phoenix, that is more than enough.
Separations are scary for the Phoenix. Because there is fear that someone might not return. Or maybe the distance can change the togetherness to create un-togetherness. Something that seems the same but is not quite like what it was before.
But then again, if this situation is needed for the betterment of the other, the happiness of the other offsets the personal pain of the Phoenix. Because for the Phoenix, it is better to see the other happy and whole than continue where the other is at with only half a disposition. That, for the Phoenix is more painful than separation; simply because it cannot bear if the other has pain and stagnation and unable to soar.
In this case, the Phoenix is happier on the note that it made the other soar higher for wholeness.
The Phoenix never learned to rein in its emotional attachments. Whether it be for family, for friends, for partners, for lovers or even for superiors or subordinates or colleagues. It gives its all. Sometimes more. Or more than what it could give even if it hurts so much. Even if it is disappointing. That no matter what you do, it is either it is not enough or the object of love does not care or does not rectify his or her mistakes.
Amidst the pain, at least the Phoenix takes the risk of loving. That’s what makes the Phoenix free; for the one who risks is free.
Maybe Firewings shall fly away for a while and cry its tears of healing. Maybe to heal the Self.
When she will return, no one knows. Maybe after she has risen from the ashes.
But until then, her wings shall serve as the only refuge she has right now. Embracing herself into a cocoon of protective fire until the feeling of soliloquy dissipates once more.
For how long, time can either be an ally or an adversary.
This is Firewings. In her own legend of soliloquy…
[For the people I love: The dead Pillar, The Light of my Home, The Queen Majesty, The Creator, The Women of the Prairie and the Companion Soulmate]
