Crossing boundaries

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In my political geography readings, boundaries are defined as vertical planes that cut through the airspace, soil and subsoil of adjacent states.

Although they appear as lines on maps boundaries apply even under the soil, especially to stipulate where mining should end, and also above the soil, to mark every state’s airspace, something jealously guarded in modern days.

In personal relationships, however, boundaries are less clearly delineated.

Of course, some take extreme measures. I remember a Filipino film starring Maricel Soriano and Cesar Montano wherein the couple, after deciding to take a break from their marriage, used adhesive tape to clearly define each other’s limits. A white line divided the refrigerator, cabinets and the entire house’s floor area and neither husband nor wife can cross to the other side.

But with such cinematic absurdity as the exception, there are usually no maps on which we can draw lines to mark the extent of our territories.

Boundaries are set through verbal or written agreements sealed with trust. At times, such agreements do not even exist. Trusting the people around us, we assume that they have enough respect for us as to know the things they can do and those they cannot.

There are certain topics that are never openly discussed or certain question never asked, especially if we do not want to know the answers. There are certain things that are off limits.

The good professor Avecilla once noted that even a wife must not open her husband’s wallet. “What if you discover something that would disturb you? It’s true that what you don’t know cannot hurt you,” he said.

True enough, if you cross boundaries, you cannot sleep well at night even in the absence of cause for alarm. And even with forgiveness, you still feel rebuked and that you deserve it.

Betraying the trust of people you hold important brings about guilt enough to steal your sanity.

I crossed the line tonight. To say that I am sorry would be an understatement.