December is always fascinating. It is the month associated with joy, with colors, with everything beautiful. December, actually is the most anticipated month. It is the month when tropical climate is at its best, the month when typhoon usually stops coming, hopefully the month when calamities should at least be at rest.
December is lso associated with bonuses, with gifts, with plenty of food, with expensive toys and dresses. Most of all it is the month when we celebrate the birth of our Lord.
For the Filipinos, December has its own share of unhappy events. It is the month also of "Niños Inocentes". when we commemorate the killing of children under two years old as ordered by King Herod when Jesus Christ was born. It is the month when Rizal, our National Hero was executed at Bagumbayan, now Rizal Park. It is the month of almost successful Coup in 1989.
For the deprived Filipinos it is the month of humiliation when they feel poorer, unluckier, more deprived. But one thing good about December is that it brings with it Hope, it carries Promises, it adds a little Life to the dying and more strenght to the weakened.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
HEROISM
National Heroes Day! Feast of the proclaimed heroes. We have many proclaimed heroes and we all know them. They are our inspirations, their lives must be emulated. Without those heroes this country would have gone to the dogs a long time ago.
Heroes are seldom proclaimed nowadays. The criteria for heroism and martyrdom as well as sainthood are getting tougher and tougher as days pass-by.
But look, just to be able to survive with a smile this greatly devastated country is martyrdom enough. I think the calamities that God is allowing to visit this country in this generation are actually challenges to determine how strong we are. How we live in this kind of world actually separates the men from the boys, the women from the girls, the courageous from the cowards, the learned from the stupid, the genuines from the fakes, the heroes from the absurds, the martyrs from the charlatans, the good from the evil.
Yesterday, Senator Antonio Trillanes, III and General Danila Lim tried to be heroes by daring the existing government and they, together with their followers, landed in jail.
However, so many good things and so many heroes came out from our problems. They are like stars shining and twinkling beautifully during a dark, dark night. Just like during the first Christmas.
Heroes are seldom proclaimed nowadays. The criteria for heroism and martyrdom as well as sainthood are getting tougher and tougher as days pass-by.
But look, just to be able to survive with a smile this greatly devastated country is martyrdom enough. I think the calamities that God is allowing to visit this country in this generation are actually challenges to determine how strong we are. How we live in this kind of world actually separates the men from the boys, the women from the girls, the courageous from the cowards, the learned from the stupid, the genuines from the fakes, the heroes from the absurds, the martyrs from the charlatans, the good from the evil.
Yesterday, Senator Antonio Trillanes, III and General Danila Lim tried to be heroes by daring the existing government and they, together with their followers, landed in jail.
However, so many good things and so many heroes came out from our problems. They are like stars shining and twinkling beautifully during a dark, dark night. Just like during the first Christmas.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
MARITAL DIFFICULTIES
When I married I thought it was a bed of roses. When the children came out I realized that marriage was a sacrifice. I thought rearing babies was the most difficult and I hoped to be able to rest when they grow up.
They grew up and I discovered that they were even more difficult to deal with. And just when I thought I have adjusted well enough to my "grown-ups" new problems sprouted left and right. Their lovers, their love ones, their friends coming from diferent places bringing with them different culture and family background.
Parents cannot just keep quiet in their children's choices for their lifetime partners. Soon enough they started forming their own families... getting married one after another.This experience made me stare blankly at times. Not only that, they began migrating to other countries with their families.
Now two sons are based in Australia, a daughter moved to Canada, another daughter is planning to go to London after her marriage. Only a daughter married to a politician shall probably be left in the Philippines. It is good that my wife and I are old enough to say goodbye to the world. But hope I wish we had more bonding times with our grandchildren.
I think I have tried enough and have exerted all I can in rearing my children adequately and properly to face the new dimensions of their existence with their own chosen paths in life. I can feel a great sense of fulfillment though I know in many ways I didn't give them the best.
They grew up and I discovered that they were even more difficult to deal with. And just when I thought I have adjusted well enough to my "grown-ups" new problems sprouted left and right. Their lovers, their love ones, their friends coming from diferent places bringing with them different culture and family background.
Parents cannot just keep quiet in their children's choices for their lifetime partners. Soon enough they started forming their own families... getting married one after another.This experience made me stare blankly at times. Not only that, they began migrating to other countries with their families.
Now two sons are based in Australia, a daughter moved to Canada, another daughter is planning to go to London after her marriage. Only a daughter married to a politician shall probably be left in the Philippines. It is good that my wife and I are old enough to say goodbye to the world. But hope I wish we had more bonding times with our grandchildren.
I think I have tried enough and have exerted all I can in rearing my children adequately and properly to face the new dimensions of their existence with their own chosen paths in life. I can feel a great sense of fulfillment though I know in many ways I didn't give them the best.
Monday, November 26, 2007
BIRTHDAY CELEBRANTS
Today is Ninoy Aquino's Birthday. It is also the Birthday of my wife. To me both Ninoy and my wife were very important persons. Ninoy's death triggered the bloodless revolution that eventually drived away the conjugal dictators. My wife's life on the other hand was a revolution in itself.
Like EDSA revolution my wife was atypical in many ways but in her being atypical came out several characteristics not ordinarily encountered among ordinary housewives. The reason was simply because my wife was not ordinary.
When she worked she worked as if everything in this world depended on what she was doing. When she loved, she loved like a newborn baby, enjoying every touch of her mother's hands.
She knew little about great things but she did great things in little ways. She was a very protective mother, sometimes to a fault; naive about culture and trsditional heritages; childlike in her religious beliefs; assertive as a wife; carefree on matters concerning fashion and etiquette. For she was an ordinary woman with extra-ordinary qualities understood only by a loving husband.
Like EDSA revolution my wife was atypical in many ways but in her being atypical came out several characteristics not ordinarily encountered among ordinary housewives. The reason was simply because my wife was not ordinary.
When she worked she worked as if everything in this world depended on what she was doing. When she loved, she loved like a newborn baby, enjoying every touch of her mother's hands.
She knew little about great things but she did great things in little ways. She was a very protective mother, sometimes to a fault; naive about culture and trsditional heritages; childlike in her religious beliefs; assertive as a wife; carefree on matters concerning fashion and etiquette. For she was an ordinary woman with extra-ordinary qualities understood only by a loving husband.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Monologue of a Dirty Skull
Once, I was a handsome boy,
As happy as can be...
My eyes were bright,
My arms were strong
...MY LIFE WAS MAD AND FREE.
That time I was the strongest,
No one could challenge me.
In every way I was the best;
...WOMEN WERE CHASING ME.
But one day I met my fate.
I died a sudden death...
My head was cracked,
My arms did break,
...FORTUNE DISTORTED ME.
Now I am just a dirty skull,
A piece of nothing: That's me...
Quickly returning back to dust.
...WITHOUT THE CROSS, WHERE SHALL I BE?
To you, who are still alive
Just look at me and feel your life.
For very soon you'll be like me,
Look at your soul...
...LISTEN TO ME.
While there is time do something good.
Your life is but too very short.
Do it right now, there's no excuse...
Start moving
...DO SOMETHING GOOD.
For when you die, you'll profit none
To gain just all the whole world round.
If finally you'll lost your soul,
...YOU'LL ONLY BE A DIRTY SKULL.
As happy as can be...
My eyes were bright,
My arms were strong
...MY LIFE WAS MAD AND FREE.
That time I was the strongest,
No one could challenge me.
In every way I was the best;
...WOMEN WERE CHASING ME.
But one day I met my fate.
I died a sudden death...
My head was cracked,
My arms did break,
...FORTUNE DISTORTED ME.
Now I am just a dirty skull,
A piece of nothing: That's me...
Quickly returning back to dust.
...WITHOUT THE CROSS, WHERE SHALL I BE?
To you, who are still alive
Just look at me and feel your life.
For very soon you'll be like me,
Look at your soul...
...LISTEN TO ME.
While there is time do something good.
Your life is but too very short.
Do it right now, there's no excuse...
Start moving
...DO SOMETHING GOOD.
For when you die, you'll profit none
To gain just all the whole world round.
If finally you'll lost your soul,
...YOU'LL ONLY BE A DIRTY SKULL.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Why Teen-agers Avoid Confession
Teen-agers are beautiful beings.They live the happiest moments of their lives. And because teen-agers are most beautiful and most happy, they are the most misunderstood group of Homo sapiens strolling on earth. They will be seen in places where adults least expect them to see while they are nowhere in sight in areas where they should be. Well, that is why they are teen-agers.
But teen-agers are not just like that. They are many things more which makes them most interesting too. They hate to be called "miniature adults" and they dislike being branded as "grown-up infants". They just want to be known as teen-agers and hope to stay forever that way. For in fact, it is truly pleasing to be a teen-ager because teen-agers are the most responsible people... They are always right even if they are really right at times.
Being always right is good although being always right is being always a teen-ager, and being always a teen-ager means avoiding a thousand and one important privileges.
Teen-agers are awkward. They avoid many things: the adults, the children and yes, other teen-agers like them. By doing so they keep their awkwardness, the mark of a teen-ager... the sense of identity, the feeling of individualism in the already too crowded world.
They avoid the adults because "adults behave as if they never were teen-agers themselves". Adults are very inquisitive. They are dominant. They think they know everything but they always fail to prove their worth among teen-agers, that is why teen-agers hate them. Teen-agers also avoid children because children are ambitious, because children are nothing but "little adults", and teen-agers avoid adults.
Naturally they also avoid other teen-agers, and why not? Identity is an specialty and specialty is individuality. There is no room for a double. However, teen-agers are understanding; they can tolerate what they avoid; they have learned to swallow the bitter presence of others in their midst.
Teen-agers are tolerant but only up to a certain limitation.They can tolerate an adult or a child or even another teen-ager but not someone "too old" or someone too "childish" or something for other teen-agers. Yes, they can tolerate what they avoid and they will always avoid what they cannot tolerate... like the business of going to a priest to confess.
For a teen-ager, there is nothing wrong with confession. What they avoid is confessing. It is too much for them to swallow. First, because a priest is generally an adult, and adults are all alike; inquisitive, dominant and old. Second, because sin is only for children since children are not aware of what they are doing. Teen-agers believe that sins can only be committed when one is not aware of what he is doing. Who can ever argue on that logic? Did I not say teen-agers know what they are doing? Third, because confessing is a very stupid act done only by stupid teen-agers. And so teen-agers avoid confession.
Teen-agers love to be called young in as much as they really are but they can never admit that they are sinners. They will insist that anything they do is a privilege of the youth, a part of the process of growth, a natural phenomenon for them or else they are abnormal. As Ted Kennedy once said: " the misunderstanding between the young and the adult lay in the fact that the youth do not receive satisfactory answers to their difficult questions. 'The old have a tendency of double talking when it comes to dealing with the young'". A priest, for the youth, is not a very special adult and since confessions are handled by priests, they avoid them,.
On the other hand, some teen-agers go to confession. But how sincere really are are those who go? Many are doing it only because of love or a love one requested and certainly, a teen-ager believes that lover or the love one not because of his or her greatness but because he or she is another teen-ager who happen to be in conformity with his or her ideas.
The more effective strategy perhaps is for the priest, or for that matter, any adult, to look backwards to the time when he himself was a teen-ager. In this way, one shall be dealing with oneself.
But teen-agers are not just like that. They are many things more which makes them most interesting too. They hate to be called "miniature adults" and they dislike being branded as "grown-up infants". They just want to be known as teen-agers and hope to stay forever that way. For in fact, it is truly pleasing to be a teen-ager because teen-agers are the most responsible people... They are always right even if they are really right at times.
Being always right is good although being always right is being always a teen-ager, and being always a teen-ager means avoiding a thousand and one important privileges.
Teen-agers are awkward. They avoid many things: the adults, the children and yes, other teen-agers like them. By doing so they keep their awkwardness, the mark of a teen-ager... the sense of identity, the feeling of individualism in the already too crowded world.
They avoid the adults because "adults behave as if they never were teen-agers themselves". Adults are very inquisitive. They are dominant. They think they know everything but they always fail to prove their worth among teen-agers, that is why teen-agers hate them. Teen-agers also avoid children because children are ambitious, because children are nothing but "little adults", and teen-agers avoid adults.
Naturally they also avoid other teen-agers, and why not? Identity is an specialty and specialty is individuality. There is no room for a double. However, teen-agers are understanding; they can tolerate what they avoid; they have learned to swallow the bitter presence of others in their midst.
Teen-agers are tolerant but only up to a certain limitation.They can tolerate an adult or a child or even another teen-ager but not someone "too old" or someone too "childish" or something for other teen-agers. Yes, they can tolerate what they avoid and they will always avoid what they cannot tolerate... like the business of going to a priest to confess.
For a teen-ager, there is nothing wrong with confession. What they avoid is confessing. It is too much for them to swallow. First, because a priest is generally an adult, and adults are all alike; inquisitive, dominant and old. Second, because sin is only for children since children are not aware of what they are doing. Teen-agers believe that sins can only be committed when one is not aware of what he is doing. Who can ever argue on that logic? Did I not say teen-agers know what they are doing? Third, because confessing is a very stupid act done only by stupid teen-agers. And so teen-agers avoid confession.
Teen-agers love to be called young in as much as they really are but they can never admit that they are sinners. They will insist that anything they do is a privilege of the youth, a part of the process of growth, a natural phenomenon for them or else they are abnormal. As Ted Kennedy once said: " the misunderstanding between the young and the adult lay in the fact that the youth do not receive satisfactory answers to their difficult questions. 'The old have a tendency of double talking when it comes to dealing with the young'". A priest, for the youth, is not a very special adult and since confessions are handled by priests, they avoid them,.
On the other hand, some teen-agers go to confession. But how sincere really are are those who go? Many are doing it only because of love or a love one requested and certainly, a teen-ager believes that lover or the love one not because of his or her greatness but because he or she is another teen-ager who happen to be in conformity with his or her ideas.
The more effective strategy perhaps is for the priest, or for that matter, any adult, to look backwards to the time when he himself was a teen-ager. In this way, one shall be dealing with oneself.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
0F WOMEN AND TEARS
A teen-ager requested me one day to write something about women and tears. Hope he is around to read this.
While both sexes are created with tear glands, only female (not necessarily the weaker sex) is fully associated with real tear flow. Women are generally better criers than men. This started when Eve tearfully offered an apple to Adam in paradise. Adam fell and we all know what happened next.
Tear, physiologically speaking, is nothing but a simple compound of cleansing fluid, intended to wash away the dirt of the eyes. In like manner, a woman is nothing but a chemical composition, so complicated, for man to understand. Both women and tears are simple, yet both women and tears are complicated, enough to confuse any man on his right senses.
I am one such confused man because I've seen a woman crying. It was such a terrible sight. I was shaken... yes, body and soul, I was shaken. She looked relaxed, composed and in control of her poise but her tears were more eloquent. I saw them flowing on her soft, rosy cheeks. They spoke fluently for her. They told me her feelings and I was not too dull to understand.
Tears are women's interpreters of their emotional feelings, a "talkative" outlet of their suppressed moods. When tears talk, you've got to listen, because when tears talk, they talk well.
Then again I saw her crying. This time she was not composed, she was not relaxed, she was not her usual poise, for she was mad. Her face was red with anger, her eyes were burning with furor but tears were dropping endlessly from them. She looked lovelier. How can a man answer back a crying beauty, no matter how mad? Tears are women's charm, so overwhelming, so magnetic, so powerful that they can melt even a monster's heart.
Finally, at long last, I saw her happy. She was so overwhelmed by joy that her eyes elongated into two pretty slits. Blood vessels became visible on her neck, minute arteries reddened her face and her dimples laugh with her lips. She was hilariously dancing out her uncontrollable contentment. But she was crying. She had drawn herself with tears. Everybody else laugh with her and the whole world turned pink. Tears are women's sense of humor. With them, she could express her jokes and impart her wittiness.
She was bitten by a centipede. The pain was unbearable. She strongly clasped her hands while greatly gnashing her teeth. It must be terrific, her lips turned blue. Again, she let flow the sedative. The bitter tear that relaxes, the tear that curses.
Women and tears are inseparable. Useless will be one without the other. Tears are women's line of defense. their greatest weapons to protect themselves. A man maybe strong with his arms, but a woman is stronger with her sighs. A man is powerful with his dignity but a woman is greater with her sobs. A man maybe famous and incorruptible, yet a woman is eternal because with her tears, she can wash even her soul. While Hestas condemned himself by spitting out his sins, Magdalene saved herself by bathing in contritions with tears.
I am in love with a woman who knows how to cry. And she is a good mother and a perfect wife.
While both sexes are created with tear glands, only female (not necessarily the weaker sex) is fully associated with real tear flow. Women are generally better criers than men. This started when Eve tearfully offered an apple to Adam in paradise. Adam fell and we all know what happened next.
Tear, physiologically speaking, is nothing but a simple compound of cleansing fluid, intended to wash away the dirt of the eyes. In like manner, a woman is nothing but a chemical composition, so complicated, for man to understand. Both women and tears are simple, yet both women and tears are complicated, enough to confuse any man on his right senses.
I am one such confused man because I've seen a woman crying. It was such a terrible sight. I was shaken... yes, body and soul, I was shaken. She looked relaxed, composed and in control of her poise but her tears were more eloquent. I saw them flowing on her soft, rosy cheeks. They spoke fluently for her. They told me her feelings and I was not too dull to understand.
Tears are women's interpreters of their emotional feelings, a "talkative" outlet of their suppressed moods. When tears talk, you've got to listen, because when tears talk, they talk well.
Then again I saw her crying. This time she was not composed, she was not relaxed, she was not her usual poise, for she was mad. Her face was red with anger, her eyes were burning with furor but tears were dropping endlessly from them. She looked lovelier. How can a man answer back a crying beauty, no matter how mad? Tears are women's charm, so overwhelming, so magnetic, so powerful that they can melt even a monster's heart.
Finally, at long last, I saw her happy. She was so overwhelmed by joy that her eyes elongated into two pretty slits. Blood vessels became visible on her neck, minute arteries reddened her face and her dimples laugh with her lips. She was hilariously dancing out her uncontrollable contentment. But she was crying. She had drawn herself with tears. Everybody else laugh with her and the whole world turned pink. Tears are women's sense of humor. With them, she could express her jokes and impart her wittiness.
She was bitten by a centipede. The pain was unbearable. She strongly clasped her hands while greatly gnashing her teeth. It must be terrific, her lips turned blue. Again, she let flow the sedative. The bitter tear that relaxes, the tear that curses.
Women and tears are inseparable. Useless will be one without the other. Tears are women's line of defense. their greatest weapons to protect themselves. A man maybe strong with his arms, but a woman is stronger with her sighs. A man is powerful with his dignity but a woman is greater with her sobs. A man maybe famous and incorruptible, yet a woman is eternal because with her tears, she can wash even her soul. While Hestas condemned himself by spitting out his sins, Magdalene saved herself by bathing in contritions with tears.
I am in love with a woman who knows how to cry. And she is a good mother and a perfect wife.
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