Written By Alex Danielle B. Guerrero

Spider lilies are the flowers for goodbyes and farewells. Their flowers only bloom after their leaves die. Hence, they’re often associated with star-crossed lovers and the death of loved ones. I’ve always been fascinated by this flower ever since I started studying floriography, the language of flowers. The paradox of needing death to bring life is something I haven’t fully grasped. That is until 2020 came and I chose to abandon my blog-writing to participate in socio-academic organizations.

Five years ago, I fell in love with writing. The joy of making characters alive through measly inked words has swallowed me whole. My head has become a destination I’ve become addicted to frequent. When I ride in cars and trains, I see my characters walking with me, enacting the things I told them to do. My fingers felt an annoying itch when they’re not tapping on keyboard keys. I even sported my ink-stained hands with pride as if they’re medals of high honor. After all, having a mark that physically connects you to your love will make anyone’s heart swell with delight. Thus, I spent days and nights cooped in my room, publishing story after story in an online blog accessible to faceless strangers from different parts of the world. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and then suddenly, three years have passed. My stories have definitely gone places. My thousand-something follower count says so. But I’m still in my room, stuck in my head. I did not move at all.

So when 2020 came, I vowed to say goodbye to a part of myself. I left my blog and braved myself to pursue the Literary Head position of OrComSoc for the academic year of 2020 to 2021. I managed a team, pitched content ideas, and even organized an event – 2021: Make It Write, where we invited expert writers to share their insights and tips to help the Docu-Blog Committee improve their skills. We managed to keep the OrCom Blog alive with weekly publications this year, never faltering a month.

Of course, the road I took was not perfectly smooth. There were weeks where my team had to struggle in meeting the deadline. I’ve also written an uninspired article just so I can take a step in getting over a massive writer’s block. I even had to appease a difficult author when I was sourcing speakers for the event. The physical limitations posed by the pandemic made it hard to connect with people sometimes. Despite these challenges, I and my team persistently pushed through. With constant communication, regular pick-me-up notes and self-care reminders (that I love sending to them), and my team’s unwavering cooperative efforts, we are here now, ending the academic year bagging many successes and memorable feats for OrComSoc.

The me right now is definitely a different person from the me a year ago. Back then, I was so afraid to join organizations in fear of killing my time to write and eventually, my love for writing. Now that I’ve become courageous to experience new things first before letting fear sink in, I realized my love for writing will never cease unless I actively choose to do so. Sure, I left my blog to focus more on my role in OrComSoc but it did not mean I had to stop writing. In fact, when I joined this organization, I was able to write more pieces that I’m proud of. I even gained management and communication skills which I can use in my career. All I had to do was abandon some weight that has been holding me back so I can reach higher places.

Finally, I understood why the leaves of the spider lily have to die so its flowers can bloom. The leaves play a necessary part in the plant’s growth but they must not impede the spider lily from its inevitable bloom. And once the flower wilts and dies, another set of leaves will rise again. Even if the leaves die, their existence to the plant does not completely cease. A new one will always appear— a different leaf but essentially still the same kind.

Like the spider lily, my love for writing has shed its leaves, bloomed a flower, and wilted to grow a new set of leaves. I’m still writing but through a different medium now. I’m still cooped up in my room but I’m no longer stuck in my head — I’m with people now. And most importantly, I’m still growing. But unlike before, I don’t have to rely on numbers to believe I actually took a step into my future.

The journey to this growth was saddening and terrifying but it has also been deeply satisfying. Thank you, OrComSoc, for the opportunities I’ll surely treasure even after I graduate. Here’s to more spider lilies we are growing!