A Letter to the Little Prince Fr. Francis Ongkingco Cebu Daily News
November 13, 2006
Dear Little Prince,
When I found it hard to sleep one evening, I groped for my PDA in the darkness to read something I felt could help me sleep. But I was wrong. I couldn’t put The Little Prince down.
By now, I can imagine how you would have interrupted me to ask what a PDA is. If I told you it’s something like a book that contains many things, you would have probably embarrassed me with your sincere observation: “What would you do with something containing so many things, when you can’t even decide which one to use?” And you will most probably conclude: “Grown-ups are complicated.”
To be sincere, it took me some time to decide to write you this letter. I had to overcome my reservations – another grown-up term – or the fear of becoming a child again. But ever since I reread your story that night, I have learned to be a child anew.
Once again, your laughter filled my ears, the squeaking pulley of the well in the desert quenched the thirst in my heart and I reflected upon many lost opportunities to learn how to love and listen, simply because I was pressed with “matters of consequence.” I assessed my life as you observed how we were packed in “trains” moving rapidly to and fro’ without any clear direction.
You know, there was even an evening when I laughed at myself as I imagined taking your challenge: “Will you please draw me a sheep?” It turned out to be more like a pig in sheep’s clothing. How I wished you had just asked me to draw that simple box with holes. That would indeed be easier and I promise not to forget to draw you (I will try my very best) the muzzle for your sheep inside the box. Yes, my Little Prince, we have grown so complicated that we no longer know how to even draw the straight line of our lives.
Take, for example, what I mentioned about my PDA at the beginning of this letter. After some reflection, I would describe it like your sheep-box. But inside are crammed millions of sheep, baobabs, kings, geographers, businessmen, tipplers, conceited men, and many more things. It is unfortunate that they haven’t left enough space for your sunsets.
This “box” has everything, but it’s not something you would want to bring back to your planet. Can you imagine what would happen if you accidentally dropped it? Then your poor asteroid would be invaded by millions of “complicated adults,” and in the process could even kill your most treasured, beloved rose.
My Prince, men today have all sorts of these “little devices” that are like the small planets you visited. They are very small but contain a universe within or, with your keen observation you would say they’re “trapped within them.” In our times, my poor little one, there are so many men imprisoned in their planets.
“And how did this all come about?” you might ask. Alas! We have already hunted down and killed all the foxes the world could ever have. And there is not one fox left to remind us that “what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Instead, “man and man for himself” is the only visible thing. We have even reached a point of disregarding “the rites” that are supposed to give meaning to everything we do and aspire for.
It is not my intention to end this letter on a sad note; I am not one for sad endings. But I cannot hide a similar feeling of anxiety and fear that your pilot friend had when you told him you were preparing to go back to your planet. As life must go on so must our love grow – my hope is re-enkindled with your advice “to look up to the stars…” and listen to their laughter.
In our times, it is truly a worthy reminder to the men and women who seldom look up to the sky. Instead of wanting to possess the stars, they ought to simply contemplate their heavenly destiny. And if they’re more attentive, they will indeed hear a Child’s laughter that will bring back the meaning of their lives.
P.S. I hope this letter reaches you soon. I pray that the flock of birds don’t tarry or are marooned in some distant planet. I’m sure you will laugh at my “childishness” when you read this. But look up to the sky and perhaps you will also hear me laughing back.
