jessa

Reflections on becoming

We cut down a tree and the whole neighborhood seemed to know about it

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Two men sitting beside a kid on the kalumpang tree they cut down.

He climbed up the tree and chopped the branches first. Then the trunk. And as the ax continued to grind against the tree again and again and again, the tree finally succumbed to the consistent chop, chop, chop. And with a final tug on the rope wrapped around it, it fell down.


After two decades, we finally decided to build a wall around the house. The decision was mainly driven by access to financial resources, and indeed, so many things could change within a year. How much more a decade or two.

And it doesn’t begin with digging and putting up the wall. It all started by cutting an old tree my mother wittingly placed at the edge of our lot. It stood there to set the boundary line between what’s ours and our neighbor’s. And now the time has come to finally put the tree down. It has served its purpose.

But it doesn’t end there either.

Just when the tree kissed the ground, neighbors started to walk around the house, asking us whether we were selling it or not and by how much.

I don’t really have a knack for selling stuff, much more about pricing them accordingly. But it made me realize a potential sale should we decide to sell the tree.

Then in the following days, people from surrounding areas started to inquire how much it would cost to get the tree. For me, it was really unusual to find strangers asking for a selling price of something you never even advertised in the first place!

So how did they know?

Like scout ants, they received reports from people who happened to know about our tree. And so it goes.

So what’s my point?

Often you want to start only when you are sure about having an audience. But most of the time, you have to get started first before people actually notice the very thing you offer (even unintentionally).

The same with this blog. I started with no one. But within almost two years, the number of views, visits, and followers kept growing. And it wasn’t magic.

Just like the ax grinding against the wood again and again and again, I keep on writing day after day after day. Even when no one was paying attention. Until someone did. And another, then another.

P.S.: Thank you for taking the time to read this. I’m grateful that you’re here.


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