A little inspiration can lead to greatness.
A little inspiration can lead to greatness.
Elections are in 9 days.
The battle intensifies.
I pray for the people at the battlefront.
That they may always remember what it means to fight the good fight.
To stand for integrity, honor and duty.
For the warriors who defend day in and day out. Who keep the fire alive.
Who remain firm, calm and composed even in the face of those who taunt.
For those waiting at home, the kids, that they may see how beautiful victory can be when wars are won by honest and loving men. (And women!)
For those in places of conflict, that they will rise and bring their strength alongside them when they choose to fight the good fight.
I pray for the Philippines–deeply and lovingly–as if it were mine.
I miss writing.
I miss reading.
I miss cooking.
I miss baking.
I miss sand between my toes. Hair grown messy from the wind. Uneven skintones. The smell of sunblock that clings to the walls of the room. The sound of waves crashing shore.
I miss jogging at 5pm, just as the sun sets. Pushing my luck, in sight of heavy gray clouds. Running till my legs turn jelly. Lighten your step. It reduces the blow.
I miss the music. Listening half-awake. A little buzzed. Beer in my hand. No End in Sight. Eyes shut.
The world belongs to those who:
1. wake up earlier than everybody else
2. read a lot
3. are small-talk experts
4. are brave!
5. work harder than everybody else
Remember that as much as you would want to own the world you also owe it!!!
They say that grief takes you whole. It envelopes you like a wave that overwhelms with unapologetic force, ending only when it declares itself done. I found that you cannot predict when grief strikes, it just happens. Triggered by mundane objects that remind you of something familliar but lost; you remember.
I found that the best way to conquer waves is to ride it.
And so, you remember what has been said and done–you are left with two options: to regret or let be. We become our own enemies when we choose to be unforgiving; for things we did or didn’t do. But what else can be done? There is no point to regret but there is a point to every feeling of regret. Opposed to feeling like a complete loser, I believe it’s better to understand that there is always something to take from it.
I want to say that with love, I miss you and I think about you every once in a while. Just as many friends say, much of you is felt in the world. You live on. I can feel it in Kythe, in stories shared, in the times I pass by your house in my rounds and rounds of jogging. Perhaps, the point of this is: I just wanted to properly wish you a Happy Birthday with a thank you attached. I want to thank you for the past few months wherein I somewhat felt you there. Because there was a lot of learning, love and life, thank you.
In its own odd way, the past few months have been both heavy and light. I was reminded that:
(1) growing up comes with arriving at your own decisions (though they may not always sit well with others)
(2) Moscato is good with everything
(3) the day you stop learning is the day you choose to lose
(4) comparison is the thief of joy
(5) important things take time
(6) good friends take you to good places
(7) discipline will take you further than motivation or “mood” will (form good habits)
(8) travel to experience culture and it will be enriching
(9) (good) music is good for the soul
(10) loving can hurt (but it’s OK)
+ with work and “real life” ahead, I choose to be hopeful 🙂
(I’m so happy I’m writing again)
few points of reflection from my Theo class with Roberto Guevara and Philo class with Jesus Principe I will keep here as archive
In the Odyssey, Homer wrote that men are so quick to blame the gods for suffering but often do not realize that they cause it themselves. This is suffering with human causation; suffering because of human error, ignorance, apathy etc. This can be understood as cause and effect but still, never be acceptable.
But to what do we owe meaningless suffering? Suffering for no apparent reason? To what is the cause and purpose of it?
What do you say to the mother who has done nothing but persevere in the face of her son’s looming death?
What do you say to the 10-year-old kid fighting cancer, who isn’t even old enough to understand the science of it?
What do you say to your 20 year old househelp who has lost both her parents as a child and now lost her only foster parent, the only person she sees as family?
There are no words, thoughts nor deeds to justify any type of suffering and so you answer by silence?
Silence is as well a stand as choosing to let it be. Many choose to be silent in their well-kept homes, in the comfort of aircon rooms and tinted cars to which they pretend the kid selling sampaguita doesn’t exist.
I hope you don’t waste all that has been given to you only to step on, over and past others; to reach such heights that you no longer see where your feet touch ground. I hope you dream big but big enough for it to be inclusive of many.
A great teacher once said that we do not help coming from a privileged place. We belong to no platform of greatness. We are all the same; equal. We help so that we, too, may rise alongside them and destroy these hardened oppresive social structures that suffocate the poor.
When will you break your silence?
Last July 20, 2015, I lost a friend. He was a 6 1/2 boy who had Acute Myelogenous Leukemia. He was diagnosed at age 5 and regularly went to the hospital for chemotherapy sessions. As often as his session required, he traveled from home (near the airport) to a hospital at V. Luna, Banawe where I was able to meet him in my visits. His parents and auntie cared for him much for he was the only child in the family.
I will forever remember the day you and I spent that one afternoon together at the hospital. You had so much energy and love. You were a definite survivor in my eyes–strong willed, well-loved and a fighter. You didn’t take no for an answer and you dreamt to be a pilot one day.
I will never forget the way your parents talked about you during your wake. I will never forget their heartache in letting you go. For your mom to tell say “you can rest now, we will see each other again” and to your father who will always see you as his baby–his one and only child. I cannot begin to understand how painful it must have been for them to let you go like that. They loved you dearly and you were blessed with the most genuine love everyone deserves.
I miss you, Carl. Though I barely knew you. You have touched my life in ways I am not even sure yet. Teach me how to be brave. Teach me how to fight like you.