Mangroves in Dumaguete, Philippines. Photo by Julia Javier.
Every month, the Agam Agenda shares a letter from someone in our team: a personal message toward shaping kinder futures. Read the letter for October 2022 by Julia Javier, our Intern.
These days, I have learned to let chaos run freely through my life. Like any guest, chaos needs to be invited into your life. Welcoming it bit by bit, you get acquainted with one another, learn things from one another.
Without knowing it, I’ve welcomed chaos into my mind and heart so frequently that it has become a tenant within me. It never complains of the situation it’s in—it merely exists for the pure enjoyment of wrecking havoc into my life.
It started out as a little excitement into my regular routine: bursts and sparks of entertainment here and there, and slowly it crept up within me. It had found its home. Suddenly, it was no longer just my mind that controlled my body, but chaos was its co-pilot. It has grappled my mind, my body, and suddenly every decision I made was at the mercy of chaos. Without realizing it, I allowed chaos to run freely, doing whatever it pleased to release itself within me rather than to the world. Yet, I can’t seem to let it go and wreak havoc into someone else’s mind and body. I had grown to understand chaos.
Chaos is a signal for space. I learned to recognize intrinsic thoughts behind my soulless eyes, the emotions behind my actions, and my desire for more.
With chaos, I fixated myself on the perfect position to befriend the main factors driving me to stay sane. I found that chaos was not a stranger rummaging through my things, rather it was like an old friend walking around my new apartment telling me I’ve changed since the last time I had seen them.
Chaos has become one of my best friends that I had just fallen out of friendship with, yet loved at the same time. When my surroundings had become distressing, spiraling me into my bed filled with despair and helplessness, chaos knew exactly what to do.
As time passed, we had learned to live together. There was a time and place for our interactions: chaos had learned when enough was enough, and I knew when to call out chaos in times for help. It had taught me to speak my truth to myself and to other people and has told me when I was too harsh on myself. In return, I’ve taught it to organize its actions, its outbursts, and when to settle itself down when the roads got too rough for either of us to stand. We had come to an arrangement, and the chaos that entered my life had become a new, kinder, and organized chaos. I’ve grown to love chaos—a love that can only be described as gentle and kind.
As the colorful sunset sky turns into darkness and the illuminating moon takes the stage, everything beautiful must come to an end. The love has settled and chaos has silenced. The month of September had welcomed an old friend into my life—re-teaching me lessons from my younger days and just like every friend and lover, it was time for chaos to leave. A bittersweet goodbye between two old friends—how you wish you had more time together, but any more time would prolong the inevitable.
With the month of October welcoming in a new stranger—an acquaintance, rather—I’ve thought of chaos from time to time, but its absence has allowed me to take full control over my mind and body. Now I no longer yearn for its excitement, the spontaneity that it brings. No longer mesmerized by the beauty that was chaos.
