Of Faces

OF FACES

If a picture paints a thousand words, so does a face a thousand meanings. Like the proverbial face that can launch a thousand ships, there are others which can also destroy them. Some faces are like lambs but which conceal a monster down under; the reverse could also be true to others. And then there are the faces that deserve the reverence of the human race while the others, are the insults to mankind.

Some people are proud of their faces (no question about that, hallelujah and kudos!). After all, it’s the only face we’ve been given and just as there is no choice, it is destiny, although some are somewhat unhappy for all the same reasons.

But don’t get me wrong here. First, I don’t mean to be mean and I don’t believe in branding of faces as ugly or pretty because at the end of the day, it’s not what really matters; and we all know the word - happiness. Besides, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, they say (unless literally or metaphorically, one is blind or has sore eyes).

Anyway, faces also mean different things to different people. For a wife, it could be a reason to die for. For a mother, it is a perfect creation on this planet (if not a disaster regretfully delivered into this world). For friends, it is a mirror of themselves - for the stupid things and shortcomings shared and understood. For a brother, it is an object of admiration if not a distaste because every time he sees it, he is reminded that he is... different. For a businessman, it is an opportunity for profit. For a lover, it makes the rose rosier, the skies bluer, and the grass, greener.

When I was teenager, the human face tickles my fancy, especially if it magnetizes, or induces one to see rainbow colors, or that brings out the genius in an idiot or the reverse of it. For me, a person was only as good as its face value. I thought it was the most important reason why a person’s face should be at the front of the head - not on the belly, nor on top of the butt.

When I grew more mature, I came to see faces as something that represented a being or an existence. And no matter how different, it had its own right and reason to be a part of the perfect universe that we have now come to live.

When I became an OFW, this concept gave me an added dimension - monotony. It’s about seeing the same thing over and over again in a closed encampment that if it were possible to switch faces like pants or shirts, many would surely have protested – except if one is already tired of his face that all he wants is to trade it with another. But, that’s another story.

Not that I hate my colleagues’ faces that I am cynical to “face-switching” (if there’s anything like that). It’s just that, this only face I got is an heirloom incomparable with any treasure (except for gold or diamond). For what will happen if on my vacation my wife sees another man’s face in me? It’s stupid.  But if by divine providence – heavens forbid – it happens and my “new” face cannot be accepted, I wouldn’t be surprised. But what if my wife loves it? That would be a disaster. Just imagine your wife adoring the face of your co-worker switched in you? That’s terrible.

But of course, there are the other faces of everything, including of course, the face. In the encampment, we are surrounded with homesick faces which remind us of our own homesickness. But there are also the faces that soothe, or that paint a big grin on another’s face, or that make us feel like we have a brother to lean on (or to bully). When the happiness is so little and the sadness, so huge, there is a funny face to lighten our days. Who else help each other except faces stuck up together in a small world away from home? That’s what keeps us going – the camaraderie and the helping hands... plus the picture of the “Hot Bodies”… our days are never more complete.

So what’s the deal?  That faces - in all shapes and sizes, representations (or dignities and indignities) are just like the tip of an iceberg that reveals only ten percent of its mass. A face may tell us a thousand beautiful and ugly meanings. But unless we have explored its depths and heights, we will never really know everything. They say never to judge a book by its cover; and so too a person by his face. For the face is the cover to a book, the logo to a company, or the emblem to a country. A face may be the trademark of a man’s physical existence; but it is just the door that leads us to one’s heart and soul.

And for an OFW like me, it is one of the few reasons that make my life move on, and my little world - here in the middle of the desert - goes round and round…