No secret anymore!

By Jing Villamil

SO went our favorite old-maid aunt’s theme song – “once I had a secret love . . .” And it became not a secret anymore because, in one brief weak moment . . . she told!

But I write not about secret loves; I write of all secrets that should have been held secret till the holder had safely gone dumb and done!

You do not have a secret? But, of course, we all have secrets hidden in our innermost! Give me the name of one who had not tucked even a one and I will swallow whole my iphone plus wire and charger. The oft-dropped phone would not mind this dare of a challenge. It may be non-breathing, but it had breathed life to true stories it had processed since I had moved on from desktop to laptop to tablet to handheld. It knows you could not come up with a single name. It is confident its hardware is forever safe from my stomach acids!

A secret may be ones so tiny so miniscule we shrug these tidbits to the air, to the ground as soon and as fast. Others may be a few too many too much or such great big ones so hugely colossal (pardon the double modifiers, am over-stressing my point!), that, on your deathbed, your spirit is so burdened with the sheer weight it could not lift itself to crossover to heaven; or hell! You feel you must tell! – to the priest, to the pastor, to anyone who will not rush away in panic, unprepared to be recipient to a secret direly unravelling.

For not being able or allowed to unravel, the secret-holder feel he or she must simply burst! Bones, flesh, innards imploding, exploding!

Upon its conception, a secret is a secret if you kept it to yourself from day one through lifetime, down to the last gasp. You do not let slip through your lips a whisper nor a sigh of it. Not even a glint of a hint from your eyes. Because, a secret shared by even just two persons, is never ever a secret from thereon.

So, when you are so near to bursting you think you just have to tell your secret to someone, anyone and you start the telling with the plea: “you are the only one am going to tell this to; promise cross your fingers and hope to die this secret will stay only between the two of us” . . . you’d better think another think, you’d better bite off your tongue, you’d better count one to one-hundred first, you’d better continue counting even to far beyond.

For, from the second you opened your lips to speak of the secret, it would transcend into a topic free-for-all, for unlimited public consumption, deliberation and discussion.

Though, I do believe, the world’s best-hidden secret was kept by the three kings to themselves; but it was a secret most whispered about among the ancient rich and powerful, and the poorest amongst them and the most meek of their beasts: “Where will He be born, this Son of God?”

It was the only secret that was unafraidly proclaimed by Angels on seemingly full-blown ads, visuals and audio, on skies dark then blue then light!

A meaningful Christmas to you all!

(WRITER’S NOTE: This had sprung from Emmanuelle’s SSShhhSecrets 26Feb2006.)

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