A Short Pilgrimage

The best way to plan a road trip is when you didn't plan it at all. A last minute preparation is all you need to keep the excitement on the high level. A fifteen to 30 minutes preparation was long enough to pack my Jansport bag for the weekend getaway. It was supposed to be a one day swim in a pool, a resort just around the city was the original plan. But due to the impulsiveness and the thought of just taking a two days vacation from work plus the weekend to make it four and not being able to get out of the city was so lame, me and my partner decided to take the road and headed north.

I would consider it as an overdue getaway. We’d been planning for a Couple’s Retreat for like more than a year now and all of those itineraries were dispensed due to our incoherency to come up with the same goal, not until this unplanned trip happened. I always have the habit of following the leads and going where the river flows but if the leader doesn't have a concrete destination in mind, I am not the type of a person who makes the decision for everybody, I go where the majority goes. In this case, it’s just between me and my partner for five years. It was actually his birthday celebration and I didn't want to spoil the adventure he had in mind. So at the last minute he changed his mind and decided to go for a road trip instead of splashing in the pool which is more appropriate to counterpart the burning weather of the summer, I hit the sack and pulled some clothes that would approximately last for two days.

Back packing? I thought; this might be an interesting idea, I mean, why not right? It reminded me of western campers and back packers in Europe who’ll just woke up and decided to go to the country side with just a back pack and a pair of snickers. I always wanted to do that ever since, pull down all the guards and just relax and follow where the wind blows. Over thinking will kill the fun, over preparation will also kill the adventure. You just have to go with it, take as much as you can carry and go with it.

There’s no time to relax. After work on a Thursday morning I went home and prepared my stuff, freshen up a bit and took off. My birthday boy was already waiting at the nearest Seven-Eleven store beside the Victory Liner Bus Terminal along Edsa, Cubao. I wasn’t really informed about our destination but I already have a hint. Then later on I found myself smirking in the corner as I was skeptical about the long travel that we were going to embark.

Yes we will be heading north. But we will be having a stop over to the town of Manaoag in the province of Pangasinan to visit the shrine of Our Lady of Manaoag that is known to be miraculous all over the country. I’ve never been to Manaoag and I am very excited to see the place but nevertheless to see the Shrine and experience it firsthand.

I was skeptical if I have enough strength to uphold me for this trip as I have been awake since last night. Thinking that we still have a long way ahead of us and I doubt if I would be able to take a nap in the bus. But then I realized something, – a driven person will not question the strength the body could sustain but the only thing that matters the most, is what the heart is willing to give to survive. My heart was telling me that I could do it, that it would be worth it at the end. All of a sudden it occurred to me that this would not just be a simple journey mixed with pleasures but a spiritual pilgrimage of adventure.

While the bus was trailing the Edsa highway, the normally traffic infested road was yielding and smooth at the moment. The bus hasted freely and saved us the time from the usual bumper to bumper scene. We were seated at the second row, on the right corner while I was preparing for my Kate Winslet moment in the window side of the bus. I was thinking; this was not only for my own benefit but for the deeper meaning of the relationship that we build together for five years. I think every relationship needs to do this once in a while, to detach themselves in their daily routine and discover each other outside the comfort of their own nutshell. I think it would be easier to get to know more about your partner when you are both strangers in a different place and learn more of each other’s personality. This will be the best time to fuel the flame and to be reminded the reason why after all of these years, you still choose to hold this person’s hand.

No wonder a lot of long term relationship ceased after spending years and years together. Many of these lovebirds forgot that relationship needs to be constantly tilted and watered like the soil in the garden to avoid being stiffened and stagnant and dry. They are swallowed by the daily routine that they created in their own world and later realized that each is too bored enough to continue. When the flame stop burning and when the spark isn't there anymore, is there any reason to stay? Does love is enough? I guess both partners have a responsibility to take the rain check before it’s too late.

As we were getting farther, the chaotic scene of the city life was fading in the picture and the echoes of contemporary humming was etiolating into oblivion. I felt like a sheep stripped down by its coat, naked without the customary modern frenzy of my everyday life in a big city. There was silence, relief and stillness in my mood that I never felt for a very long time. I know this feeling, I felt this before…

When I opened my eyes I saw the trees, the meadows, subdivision houses and a silhouette of mountain in the far end. There were road widening, constructions of a new subdivision and factory. Trucks carrying import land to cover up an area that used to be a hectare of rice plantation. Modernizing must have cause much in terms of severing the ways of nature to give way to the brilliance of human engineering. I wonder if this will be worth it in the end.

The bus was already speeding up in tempo along the North Luzon Expressway. In this wide array of a road, from where I was seated the shade of green was beckoning outside my window and all of these reminded me of home, my beautiful province in the South.

The feeling of calmness, every time I traveled from Cagayan de Oro to my province in Bukidnon, when the bus started to ascend in the mountain road and the city harbor at my back became the backdrop scenery of a life size painting while the sea was endless mirroring the immense blue sky. It was one of the many reasons I looked forward to every time I went home as it was breath taking. I couldn't help it, I was a sentimental kid.

The views outside made me feel homesick. It reminded me of my back and forth travels in the winding highways of Mindanao. But I had to ignore this emotion that was building up inside me. I couldn't ruin our trip with my sentiments.

We passed through the city of Tarlac, where the way to the Hacienda Luisita is at the right side from the quaint town piazza. I was thrilled when I saw the Starbucks Café but we didn't have a chance to quench our thirst for sugar and caffeine since our stop over was a few minutes away.

I could see the excitement in his eyes as he looked like a kid again. I know the stress that consumed him at work and believed that he also needed this vacation as much as I do. We deserved this vacation. When you work so hard, it is not worth for guilt to spend and treat yourself sometimes. It’s why you earn for a living anyway, to afford the temporary pleasures of vanity like traveling, food and beautiful material things that this world can offer.

We chatted our way for almost six hours on the road. From town to town I send him laughing out loud with my funny monologues. We talked about anything that we didn't normally talk about in our normal weekend frenzy, as we were more occupied with the cinematic distraction that the city could offer. It’s amazing what a few hours bounding could do when you’re both in a bus and you don’t have much anything to do but talk and laugh and giggles and joke about.

We reached the town of Manaoag. Upon entering, the magnificent Shrine of Our Lady marveling in a glorious structure on my right. I was awed on how huge the church was. Its filmic ambience of quaint solemnity in every corner of the church is magnifying compared to the regular cathedral in the city. Outside, the rays of the mid-afternoon Sun was a hot metal penetrating my skin. But my mind was focused in the heaven’s gate in front of me, I didn't have the chance to linger my attention in the bazaar stores on my left and right selling religious relics and miraculous water. But I took a few glances of some stall. I was appalled with what I saw, miraculous water for sale in a plastic bottle of mineral water in front of a Shrine? Oh how sacrilegious attempt of livelihood. But they must have their reason for doing this, coz if not, then what is conscience for this people. You just can’t deceive your customers using the name of the divine or anything that is connected to it and stand your stall in front of the Shrine? Insanely unacceptable!

Maybe it was just me. My conscience was telling me while I was pondering this obscurity before I reach the church door that this was all wrong. Miraculous water cannot be paid by any amount like normal merchandise, that doesn't work that way. I think miraculous objects, relics, water or any medium work its wonder because we believe that it would, the faith of the people, the yearning of our heart; the chain of prayers willed the divine to manifest in this forms. People are healed miraculously, because at that very moment, the faith of that person to his God could will the mountain to move. I think Faith is the bridge to all miracles, piercing to the window of our heart by the language of prayers as it penetrated to the soul before it manifested to the body. Then you’re healed.

We entered the Shrine. I stripped every inhibition of my body and let the soul lead the way. We seated at the middle row and I lingered my mind in the vast arched formation of the roof, the huge chandelier hanged magnificently on the top. There were people inside buried in deep conversation with God. The sight of people praying inside a church sends me to the transcending feeling that pushed out all the grudges inside my body. This scene is my little personal miracle as it always brings humility and gratitude to my heart. It always reminds me that I am not the only person who has a problem in this world, these people or some of them are carrying the weight of the world behind their back. The feeling of frustration and desperation of their everyday life and thinking that there is no way out of their sufferings. But then they realized that there is the simplest act that we called prayer. When the most desperate person began to pray, it’s the highest act of humility.

I almost choke with my own contemplation while teardrops fell from my cheek. I wiped it right away as I didn't want him to see that I was crying. It was a personal thing for me. I was pulled back to reality when he begun to kneel and took out his rosary beads and booklet. He started his own novena and so I gave him his silent moment. The sight of him in deep prayer is an answered prayer for me and I was inspired by it. I look forward to the front, the Lady stand in the highest spectacles in glistering garbs. She was beautiful. She is the symbol statue of The Lady who performed the miracles. She is the one who forges the faith of the people who devoted their heart to her mercy. How could I deny a conversation with her? When every hymn I heard from the small chapel next to the Shrine were songs of devotion to her. I succumbed to the calling and listen to the whispers in my heart. So I knelt three feet beside him and begun my own silent prayer.

When I open my eyes he was already finished. The sight I beheld was magnified in colors, radiant colors. It felt like nothing in the world today that would ruin our mood or this vacation. We were blessed. I could feel it. And so we navigated the whole surrounding and found our way back to light a candle. We took pictures in every corner of the Church and I pulled out my inner Julie Andrews persona and pouted my way every click like the check will bounce tomorrow.

It was already four in the afternoon when we decided to find the breadcrumbs on the road to our journey. We bought a bottle of water first and drunk it in a gulp as we were very thirsty from that long emotional and spiritual reflection. We didn't waste time searching for a transportation to send us to the summer capital of Baguio city. We tried waiting for the bus but a lot of the locals told us we will be wasting our time as the chance was minimal. So we proceeded and took the Van.

My first trip to Manaoag was a memorable visit, though it was short but the memory that we created together was bonded by the presence of the Lady made it worth while. I am looking forward to see this town again in the future. We’ll never know, I will probably stay for awhile and walk the narrow alleyway and experience the hospitality of the people. But for that moment I was ready to bid my farewell and focused my mind to the next stop

The Final Wait

A consuming apprehensive emotion overwhelmed me an hour before the final result of my Physics subject has been disclosed. Waiting for the clock to stroke every second was considered to be a lifetime of restless agony in a death-row chamber. The judgment day of my breaking free to the real world, a verdict to pass on and an exit ticket ride to step out through the academic gate of knowledge. The final day of my six years in this University, in this hour, this unbearable moment of insufferable waiting was a velvet rope that tied me and hindered me to jump off the plane to see the savage garden of the bona fide world of the living, the world of the corporate dreams of triumphs and the dimensional success that drives human to be great. I had to pass through that gate, I had to jump off that plane or if I hadn’t! The rest of the world would perish and the making of the dream would come along with it. All that I have worked for will be nothing, a subject for oblivion.

It was passed five in the afternoon and every corner of the building was dimmed and gloomy, giving way for the darkness of the night to take its place momentarily. I was outside of the Physics Department, at the 4^th floor of the Engineering Building at the back of the humongous University. I was waiting for the proclamation of my verdict, if I passed or failed, I was anxious to know where I stand. I was thinking of a trial, a witch trial of the ancient day Scotland were witches was put on stand to be burned alive, a very inhumane annihilation. But that was different, that was a different thing! I could have severed myself from the burning for it was the physicality that was at stake. It would be brutality on its highest form if I’d be burned alive, but death would consume me eventually after the flame and all the vestige of the corporeal pain would come to pass, it would be over. My judgment was a different kind; it was more of the deepest emotion that rooted in my heart of hearts, a small decay that would ate me bit by bit until everything has been consumed. All that was left was a living corpse, a lifeless being, defeated from the battle. In second I forgot to breathe, aghast and rattled by the thought that I could not bear it if I failed. What would the future holds? How would I live my life or reached my dream if I would be glued for another semester to endure this unrelated and ridiculous impediment. I would be damned if I go through it again!

I was startled when a voice of my professor echoed in my ear. My graphic memory of him described him as a petite like a ten year old kid; his body was slender in form, skinhead and thorough looking man, I’d considered him as average but cunning like an eagle looking for a prey. He called my name with his soft and tingling voice telling me to follow him to his desk. I followed shortly and seated myself in front of his table parallel to him. He was browsing on his record book. The suspense was killing me, gently killing me as I was hearing my heartbeat racing like a stallion in an open field. I was suffocating I couldn’t breathe, unable to move as if my body was submerged in a frozen sea in Antarctica. He looked at me with his serious look. I was afraid the way he looked at me. There was no expression in his face, as if he was lifeless. For a moment he put a mask of a heartless being who didn’t care about anything else but to inflict pain and suffering to humanity. He was calculating my face, it’s like he was enjoying my agony and wanting to prolong it for his amusement! I wanted to kill him for that or throw him into the pit and buried him alive. Then he smiled his vicious smile and told me to look at my score. Then I held my breath, I held my breath for all its worth.

I looked meticulously in his record book while I was holding my breath. It was the time of my life were breathing was irrelevant and it’s when I forgot the whole world and the only thing that matter was my score, my key to the gate, my axe to break the chain to set myself free. The minute I saw my score I was numbed, I felt like my soul has been separated from my body and went somewhere else to escape the drama in my head. I commanded all my flexes to move and seated back to the chair. I passed! I passed the subject with flying pastel colors. I was shocked and I couldn’t let myself to speak, there was no voice coming out from my mouth and it seemed like my tongue was tangled inside. But there was timbre, a strong timbre building inside of me ascending to my esophagus formulating a loud shout, but I couldn’t hear any sound in me, I felt deafness engulfed my whole body and the only sound I heard was the raging emotion that wanted to break free. I said my word of thanks to my professor and in second I stormed out of the department to get some air.

I ran. I ran as fast as I could out of the building down to the open field. Darkness stretched the horizon and the only light illuminating the field was the light coming from the different building inside the campus. I was catching my breath, tears descending from my face like the Amazon River, wild and careless as it was, but it was overflowing, pouring all the hard work, the pain, the sleepless night, the anxiety and fear of not being able to get my degree in a full growl. The six years flashes in my mind as if I was watching a scene in a movie, every single of it, a different genre compressed in a short documentary in my head. I cried, hard as it was for every person who help me along the way, I cried for my mother, her hard work has been paid off well. My triumphed for that day was not mine for the taking; it was for my mother and for her alone. I passed the subject and I was proud to call myself a graduate in my chosen field! Ha! At last!

As I looked up in heaven I saw the stars shining in the darkness of the enormity of the sky. I send my prayer of thanks to my God for the answered prayer, for everything that I’d been through I send my praises. Thank You!

The final wait was the visual definition of hell with its blazing glory of fire. It was a suspense thriller of erratic heartbeat but in the end there was winning; there was the claiming of the prize, the jumping of the plane to take chance and the opening of the gate. The breaking free, this freedom in the palm of my hand was definitely worth the wait.

An Ordinary Morning Before Work

A full Laughter engulfed the air in my room as I was playing with my Beautiful niece, my little Sam on a hot sunny morning. She was in the verge of tears of laughter while I was tickling her tiny body with my fingers and using her mother’s hairbrush to tickle the palm of her feet. Little Sam roared out a mirth that was so vibrant and rich that uplifted even the mournful spirit in Hades realm in the underworld. A child’s supple voice echoed the entire room, a seraphim singing from heaven of fun and amusement, a youthful glow of hymn that brought music to my ears. The milieu of this delightful moment guzzled my earthly psyche for a few minutes. It was pure joy, a healthy gladness, happiness in aesthetic form, a typical rainy day that washed away all the sorrows and pains of the world. But just like everything else in this fancy paltry common duration called life, some good things have its own ending. A protocol to consider that in happiness there is sadness, that in every brand new day there is a storm and in every reality there is fantasy. I was in oblivion when I came to my senses, a total chaos of nothingness and the abyss of complete darkness in the surrounding. Blindness struck me and the only music I heard was the resonance of my Little Sam’s laughter that leisurely fading away.

The tingling jingle of my alarm socked at precisely eleven o’clock in the morning. This clinking sound of my clock woke me and separated me from the excerpted flashes of longings in my dramatic cerebral activities from my unconscious sleeping mind. The balmy temperature of the mid-day stirred my cognizant to sway my body to move and to stretch my limbs until all the vestige of the dream was stripped off my physicality. I stayed in my bed facing the ceiling for a couple of minutes before I rose up, unable to move, motionless as if I was trapped in the tomb beneath the desiccated grove but yet widely awake. Outside the diminutive refuge of my room I heard noises, voices that I don’t understand; distinctive humming of erratic pitches as of the singing of the early morning bird. People of ethnicity clamoring in their diverse languages, was it Japanese, or Chinese, or maybe my Indonesian neighbors residing in front of my room conferring about the latest recipe that they’re cooking as they often do. The sight of this event flashes in my head and brought a smirk in my face as I pushed the thought aside and gave way for myself to stand. The sentiment of being alone in the four corners of my room enjoying the moment of solitary solace reprieved me from the burden of every day battle in my contemporary life. So I stood up and I stood still to face the new challenges, I stood up to prove something to myself that I was prepared to face another day ahead as I crossed the room to mend my thirst.

Water, vivid and crystal clear as it was as I drunk it from a plastic flower painted glass in my own little kitchen. It was delicious, warmed and tasteless but soothing as it entered my mouth down to the delicate passage of my esophagus and descending to the vital organs of my body, waking the different particles in my veins, my heart that compose the core of my very anatomy. The humidity of the summer breeze was uncomfortable for me and my body, I hated the constant tacky sweat every time I wake up in the morning, I hated it when there’s no freshness of the first light coil brushed my skin each time I open my eyes. For that very moment as I was enjoying my glass of water, it reminded me how much I loathed summer, the season of the year when the sun shines on its finest, when the warmness of the horizon impedes the eagle to soar in the air to claim his kingship in the immensity of the sky kingdom. It was madness!

I wasted no time as I shut off the worries in my thought and headed to the shower room to take my bath and washed all the negative vibes in my head brought by the fiery atmosphere, to drain my solidity from the rough sensation of the weather. The pouring of the water from the dipper was heaven to my skin; a rainy season flooded my cognitive mind as I imagine myself floating in the Herodian mikvah at the Jewry in Israel or dipping in a calm water of the spring lake in renaissance time under the Tuscan sun in the beautiful Italy. The wetness dripping in my body washed all the elements of nuisance in my head, it cleansed my being from all the anxiety feeling in my mortality, an invocation of soulfulness to procure calmness and serenity to my persona. Through water comes the beauty of life, the washing of sin, the purification of the soul and the redemption of humanity or at least it was how I felt at that time. Oh how I missed the rainy days!

As I sprung out from my day dreaming in the tiny corners of my shower room, I was back in the reality of my dredging self. What was I searching for? What was I needed to scour for in my simple customary day? Or maybe I was too accustomed with the simplicity of my life style that the boredom was knocking in front of my doorstep. I could not let it happen, not yet, not ready yet for changes to kick in. I need the rain so badly, I need the rain to wash everything away from my mind, I need an over flowing rain to restore the chaos in my head brought by the blazing heat of summer. I felt Desperate!

It was Friday and we are allowed to dress down at work. So I chose a plain white shirt and a camouflage short for that day. A simple pair of outfit to observe my loner introverted personality. I was not the outrageous or fashion type of individual. I left that life a very long time ago, an existence of recklessness and impression, a craving for attention and self-absorbed narcissism. Though I have nothing against people who live and breathe fashion, it’s my choice on how I want to live my life. Seeing myself in front of a mirror reminded me the battle that I’d been through, I fought hard in a battlefield between myself and the different choices of living, all the cards had been laid in front of me and all I had to do was to pick one. Watching the peacefulness and the calmness of my reflection made me realize that victory can be claimed if you picked the right card in the solitaire of life.

I picked my card, I made my choice and maybe people considered it lifeless or lackluster but it was worth the fight. As I open the door of my room to step out for work, I learned that the oddly emotion I felt earlier was not dredging out of boredom but merely emotions that triggered by the scratchy ambiance in my room and a product of the audacity thinker that constantly working in the thickness of my cranium. But yet I felt contentment and peace.

As I went out to the reality of the world I was assured that I was happy, that I was calmed, and I was fuming with humility by the simplicity of my life. With these plainness gave me the opportunity to admire even the simplest things or enjoy living the everyday life without wanting for more. I was smiling as I closed the door and with all the thoughts I have, all the freedom to think of anything in this world that a mind can imagine is possible. But with limitation as a human I was glad that God created contentment and satisfaction of the soul or else I will be craving for more. Silly Me!

My Childhood Pain

It was a humid Sunday afternoon in my beloved Katipunan. The heat of the blazing sun nipped the very essence of my body as it penetrated my susceptible skin. It was on that very day while I was sitting at the veranda of Café Xocolat, a haven situated at B. Gonzales Street next to Burgundy Place building in Loyola Heights where people of different background spend time for various reasons; I was swept back in time on the day after my father’s funeral. In my solitude, buried in my own thoughts and ignorance of the people surrounding me, I was hauled by the vacuum of time on the very moment the first time I came face to face with grief. I was seven years old and considerably naive about the pain and the philosophical attributes towards death. In my innocent mind, I understand that death means losing someone or missing someone for a very long time. The thought of not seeing my father again and growing up without him consumed the totality of my childhood. The grief was something so vague for me to comprehend the emotion, the vastness of its intensity resembling the incalculable brilliance of the horizon, as it was infinite and beyond. It was then I realized that in childhood, you will never understand the extent of grief unless you experience it first hand. I was in a sinking boat, drowning in my own anguished, suffering from a colossal physical pain of melancholic, yet no one was there to save me from my own dirges, no one was there to pull me from the perfidious river of unhappiness. The boat was sinking fast for me to call for help, to shout from the bottom of my lungs and the vigor of my soul that I was on board, that I was on my way to the abyss. I remember myself alone in my parent’s bedroom, sitting at the bottom left corner of the wooden queen size bed situated near the French window on the right corner of the room, in pain of the situation in which I am trapped at. The physicality of such twinges numbed the core of my miniature mortality as it was starting from the bottom of my feet and slowly mounting to my cerebral and sending shiver to my spine yet the surface remains indifferent , ‘til I realized that I wasn’t far from being catatonic.

I remember vividly as it was like yesterday, caught in the moment as it happened the same time as I was sipping my cold beverages in this fancy café. Past three in the afternoon when the brisk wind was trying to take over and shoved the warmness of the ambiance. While our housemaid was preparing to create a flare out of the fallen and dried leaves from the mango and the coconut trees in our backyard. Everybody went out to unwind and enjoy the tranquility of the afternoon. It was a time to seized the moment to slow down from a hard days of work, a time to pack your belongings and go home, a perfect moment to breathe the fresh air and witness the sun as it set in the horizon connoted a promise for a better tomorrow.

While everyone in the household was caught up in a typical provincial ritual and the men were busy playing mahjong and discussing politics with their hot coffee in the nipa hut, my mother and my aunts were at the veranda in front of the house talking about the future plans for the family since the man of the house who was my father passed away and was buried yesterday. I, on the other hand was in paralleled with everyone’s mood.

The melody of the zephyr as it entered the window of my parent’s room was my only comfort at that very moment. There was silence and a perfect stillness in the situation that I can almost hear my heart pounding in my chest, that I can feel my blood rushing through my veins, that I was talking to my brain commanding my limbs and my body to move. As I stood and conquered my numbness, I looked around the four corners of the room. I was eager to feel even a remnant of my father’s presence. Let me see you, let me feel you, let me talk to you; let me tell you how much I love you. I was mad with anguished and clouded with so much despair until I realized that my heart was aching. I was sobbing with the incalculable teardrops descending from my eyes, my face was all wet and I was in raged and mad of something I didn’t know. Lord what was I doing? I was talking to someone who’s already dead, wanting to see him, wanting to show himself and feel his embrace for the last time. I was asking, no, I was begging to see his ghost, to see something I didn’t even know existed. I was crying and crying until the river in my eyes was drained and I cannot cry anymore.

I stayed in my parent’s room until the sobbing of my heart stopped. I was relieved; I felt serenity and stillness in my being that I had been longing for a couple of days. I felt the coolness of the air as it entered my nostrils and penetrated my lungs when I inhaled deeply to clear every channel in my body. I felt better and recovered from the pain that engulfed me since my father’s passing. I was able to perceive myself ascending from the deep of the abyss, one stroked at a time until I saw the surface. The promise of a better tomorrow, a brand new day, a chance to smile again, a lesson learned from the pain. Despite of all the message of a new beginning, the knowledge of the truth that in this lifetime, I only have one-shot of having a father, one-shot of having a mother, one-shot of having parents wedged in my brain until this day. Now I only have one parent left, my loving mother. It is imperative that I cherish every moment with her, tell her how much I love her, letting her know that the world is not a better place for me to live without her.

As I snapped back to the reality of my own privacy in this crowded café, I was saddened by the thought of the flashback to the memory lane. It was a hurtful memory of my life but then the strongest memory I know that shaped me emotionally and psychologically and made me the person I am today. I am grateful and in a way thankful that even in the painful memory I found learning, that even in the painful memory I found my strength, that in all of my own struggles I am humbled. My memory defines me as a person and this definition told me that there’s nothing greater in this world than God and the value of a chance and a privilege to have a Family.

What About It

I am never a scholar in any form on how the universe evolves. Not even a single bit about cosmology. However, one thing is certain to me is that the world’s existence comprises of different laws. Laws that has been created by men through ages, rules that been followed by humans even animals to extend the understanding of peace and unity in the world. Some laws has been known to be trailed since the beginning of time, perhaps created by the effulgence of the love of the Mighty God which overpowers the thinking mind. Maybe it manifested itself when the universe was created without the knowledge of the divine. Too many laws existed to uphold orders in the vastness of the galaxy. It maybe absurd to think to measure such nothingness outside our planet but the laws keep the cosmos bind and intact to our own circle in the universe. Some sort of a measurement, a pull to each other to keep planet and stars together in the BigBang.

Through centuries, the laws existed to make the world a better place to live in. I can’t succumb to a thought living in a world in which chaos is the definition of the word peace, that a rain of tears flood the world with sorrow, loneliness and mournful cries from the living things who beg for mercy to the spirit of Heaven. Few scholars from the ancient time down to the recent centuries understand how some of the laws work. The brilliance in the like of Plato to Leonardo da Vinci and that of Fra Filippo Lippi and the gracefulness of Sandro Botticelli and so on to the great names of poets and painters in the history of the world, which name had been scribe in stones, walls and works had been recorded in a manuscripts and scrolls that were passed on generation to generation that led their names in the walls of Olympus, envied by the Gods and immortalized by people who witness the vividness of their artistry. They know the laws and one in particular the “Law of Attraction” that is. Studies all over the world concluded that through these law people achieved the greatest glory a person can ever have. A dream that was made to reality, a falsehood imagination comes to life. The power of Thoughts and Faith combines a concoction of the human capacity to think, focus and will. Think about the achievements that your heart desire, with the power of your human mind to focus your strength and capacity to inflames the desire to succeed. Through perseverance and determination to reaches the goal, it will break all barrier that comes along the way, even the thick wall of the Great Wall of China is no match.

The law of attraction circulating along the globe is for us to utilize. It changes life, it moves mountain, it heals the wound and most important it teaches people to believe in themselves and trust their own cognitive competence. I for one never believe in such human ability to conjure greatness like magic. Not until I encounter a reading of “The Secret” wherein I came to understand how it worked. Because of these, it gave me a perspective in life in which I will focus my prayers and thoughts to the things that I want to receive, people that I want to meet, ideas that I want to materialize in my everyday life. It’s all about putting my heart on the desire upfront instead of dwelling on the things that I don’t want, or situation that I don’t want to happen.

The law took place when a human mind understands that through the power of thoughts he can grasped the deepest longing of his heart in the ocean of dreams. It’s like catching a fish in the open sea. Not everything will happen in a snap. A man needs to focus his mind to his desire and claim as if he already receives the prize. Having faith and believing that it will happen is very important. The faith and the perseverance in a man’s heart will attract the law to bring the desire to him. This is just amazing! No wonder some people in general failed to have their success because most of them focused their mind on the things that they don’t liked or wanted. The law can’t interpret the “I don’t want” but instead the “I want” and neglecting the word don’t. So when a person says, “I don’t want to be bullied” and dwell on that mindset ‘till it consumed him, the law of attraction interpreted it as “I want to be bullied”. So the person involved will still encounter bullying all the time. In my understanding, the law teaches us to be positive in all times and focus our mind on the things that we want to achieve in our lives instead of our own pity emotional distresses.

Sinking my mind in this knowledge made me realized that this so called “Law of Attraction” is a consecrated gift from nature, a generosity from the universe itself that was bestowed upon the inhabitants of its cosmic plain that we named Earth. This realization brings hope to the desperation of my anxious heart, a push to the profane out of my chaotic mind. Regardless if it’s natural or profound, the awareness of the law conveys calmness, peacefulness to those who understand the magnitude of its effectiveness. One thing is for sure, that the universe and all the planets were created not out of the desperation of God to be great, but it was created with the burning flame of compassion and love from the En Sof. He, who creates, willed the music of the earth from the bene ha elohim’s singing voice. He who knows the Truth hides the key of the law in the natural surrounding with a promise of a greater glory for those who understand and use it to his advantage. The world is a masterpiece by the brilliance of the Almighty as it is contrive.

Just A Thought

A good friend of mine told me that we human beings are just mere creation of God. Though we are truly created in his image and likeness, but we have to understand that humanity is just only his creation and not his duplicate. Just like we created something out of clay; a product of our own brilliance, a manifestation of our own imagination, a sum of our thoughts. But even the outcome of your creation was considered to be a masterpiece, a work of art as of the paintings of Michael Angelo and Rembrandt, still, this is not our equal. It is not the equality of our likeness, our strength, our beauty and competence to reason and think. That even in this perfection you will find flaws, a benign truth about our capacity to create. That human is meant to be imperfect by nature. That the law of God’s creation makes us lesser his equal. So when God is beyond time, we mortals grow old and eventually die.

Then why create life when you eventually take it away in the long run? Do we exist for the sake of existence? Or we exist and die because that’s how God design us for no logical reason at all?

I thought about these questions a lot of times in the past when I was in my egocentric days of thinking. When I was flooded with so much argument about my existence as a person, when I was sitting at the bench in front of the chapel in the university where I graduated. Though I never came to a point were in I gave up reason and accept things as it is, I am not a nihilist and never will be. Psychology told me to open up my mind to every possibility that will help me understand, to accept ideas from every individual I met along the way, to seek enlightenment to those who understand more, to listen to the inner voice of my heart and find my center.

In my stubborn mind I observed, I think, I neglected the idea of nihilism in different forms. I walk away in front of atheism and skepticism’s persuasion to listen to their preaching. I am my own thought. And those inner thoughts told me to find someone who’s divine, to find shelter in heaven but earthbound, to know theophany first hand.

Expertise on things is never my forte; I am humbly a free spirited individual that was flooded with thoughts and sort of different questions as a product of my imaginative mind. I tried but I failed to understand religion in any kind. Everytime I run across with a different religious beliefs, it would only flooded my mind with questions that confused me and shaken my own conviction. So I stopped listening to them. I let them passed through me as if a ghost walked inside my body and passed through my back.

By then I focused myself in my own faith. I believe in God and that’s all that matter to me until this very day. I know nothing about theology except the Christmas story of Jesus in Nazareth and how he died on the cross. I never focus myself in religion but I depended the 6 years of my life in my spiritual growth.

Because of my faith in God I discovered prayer. I was awed that prayer is as simple as talking to a friend but yet invokes healing, peace, understanding and goodness to someone’s heart. Through the beauty of prayers I realized that my existence doesn’t depends on my philosophical views as a person, but it is beyond my capacity to think and to reason logically as imperfect human being. I exist because God wants me to exist and that is something to be thankful for, a reason to know humility and a motivation to smile everyday.

I will die eventually because God wants me to experience a different world. A world that ease away all the pains in my heart. A place where happiness is flowing in the river of joy and unconditional love sparkling like diamonds in the sky. Mortality is a preparation for a bigger purpose and human body is just a vessel that we possess but we don’t own it. I have to believe it.

Now I understand that dying is not something to be afraid of. It is something to be prepared for spiritually. In my own comprehension, dying is the chance to see the world not in a mortal’s eyes but seeing the wonders of the world in God’s eyes.

Peace…

Thank You GrandPa

High hopes and dreams flooded my innocent mind while I was sitting at the balcony of my Grand parent’s house. It’s an old house made in the early 1960’s by my grand father with the help of his comrades. The first floor was made of bricks and cements while the second floor consists mostly of hard wooden materials. I wonder how my grand father conjured the resources he used to built this old ancestral house, since at that time, Valencia Bukidnon was considered to be a stop over town for travelers going to the north and vise versa. I remember my grand mother describing us how Valencia Bukidnon looks like and how neighbors situated 5 blocks apart from each other. My grand father was the Lord of his own backyard. Everything they ate was said to be fresh harvested from the garden at the back of the house. Every household was the owner of their own vegetable farm. The big house was built to be hard and strong in parallel to those people who help materializing every corner of the master piece. The hardness of the wooden supplies used to stand as the foundation of this creation implies the determination of my grand father to provide the very shelter of the family that he long soothe to create. The house serves its purpose and still continues to stand in high ground amidst the changes brought by the modern world.

The house survived the passing of time and witnesses the blossoming of the next blood line that will served as the bearer of the legacy that was once rooted from a mighty heart of a man, my grand father.

Thinking of him make me realized how much I respect him as a person. Not because he’s my grandpa and I am bound to pay my respect to him but rather, my respect goes to a man of courage and strength with fortitude to push his limits because of his love for his family. Through hard work he chased dreams for a good life and pulled heaven down to earth for his children. Yes, my grand father is a good provider. Because of the battle that he fought in life and the will to take his family out of poverty in the so called simple life in the olden days, he was thinking forward. He’d seen the bigger picture, that life isn’t easy if you settle for something less. I think it’s his ambition that drives him to persevere.

He was a driven man. His passion for his family pushed him hard out of his limitation. He thinks. He put his idea into action. And because of that I admire his brilliance.

My grand father is a strict man. I heard a lot of story about him from my grand mother about how strict he was. But I don’t hate him. Instead I understand him and where it’s coming from. He is strict because of love, because he care so much for his children. I have to believe that a father has his own way of showing their compassion and love and not everybody can understand it.

So there you go, I respect my grand father not because he was strict or what-so-ever. But of the challenges that he surpasses in building our ancestral house and creating a home and shielding our family tree from harm. It was about everything that makes him as a person.

It was his compassion as a man that demands respect.

I thank him with every bone in my body for giving me a mother who inherited his courageous and loving heart. For allowing me to experience life with less hardship, for carrying the entire cross from all of us, for sparing us the pain of growing up, for showing us discipline in living.

You live a life to its potential. And now it’s time for you to rest. In dying you’ll find peace and a never ending light spreading in your horizon. Rest now, you’ll live your purpose and you live it well...

Thank you Grandpa….