A Psalm For All Seasons; The Root of My Reasons

By: Victoria Smith

 

Last month, I wrote this column from my native country, the Philippines. I had attended a college reunion, and read, sold, and signed my books at my Manila debut book launch. Today, I am incredibly still where I was then. It feels like a lifetime ago when I was ensconced in the peace, quiet, and beauty of my Puget Sound island home. I find myself wandering in, and in wonder of the daily hustle and bustle of this maze of a concrete jungle I used to call home—now, a stranger to me. There is a strange beauty in all of this.

I’ve had to extend my stay a couple of times for a few reasons, mostly family-related. But I also feel something else is keeping me here— something that is not completely clear to me, yet is as compelling as the palpable reasons I tell myself and everyone on why I’m still here. This atmosphere is familiar to me. And I don’t only mean the air—hot, humid, and I suspect, filled with allergens and pollutants that tickle my throat daily and make me cough and wheeze like I’ve not done in decades. Yet I breathe it hungrily.

I’ve been here before. Yes of course I have—but I don’t mean this in a physical, logistical sense. I mean, I’ve been HERE before: the mixed feelings of perturbation and excitement all at the same time; my inexplainable sense of security in the midst of uncertainty—the not knowing how this develops and ends.

All I can say for sure is that I’m meant to be exactly where I am—right here, right now. And I feel the pull of the same steady hand that guided me through a similar tunnel twenty-six years ago—now pulling me back to where I came from. I only have to trust it again, and I do. I don’t know where each day will take me. I just truly live for the moment, and somehow this brings me to where I’m supposed to be.

I’m reminded of my favorite poem from the Bible that I used to recite as a mantra during those dark, uncertain last years before I left for America. Yes—a poem. Many people don’t know that biblical psalms are actually poems. And here’s my favorite biblical poem: Psalm 23.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” (King James Version)

A couple of days ago, I was watching a local TV channel. A character in a show declared a saying in my native language that states, “Ang hindi marunong tumingin sa pinangalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan.” Translated, it means: One who fails to look back on one’s roots cannot hope to reach where she is going. I think I got my message: I’m here to rediscover my native country’s people, history, and culture—to see them with new eyes and feel them with a renewed heart, for it is with these new seeing eyes and renewed heart that I could write in a more powerful way. I’m here to become an eternal witness to my native country’s and people’s profound beauty and struggle.

(All rights reserved. Copyright ©2018 by Victoria G. Smith. For updates on her author events & publications, go to VictoriaGSmith. com. “Like” her on Facebook at Author Victoria G. Smith. “Follow” her on Twitter @AuthorVGSmith)