on gratitude

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person.
Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us. - Albert Schweitzer

this year will not end without saying a word about gratitude. this is perhaps the best time to look back and reflect on the things we should be really thankful for. at the end of this entry, we should be able to answer these: "how grateful have i been?" and "how can i be more grateful?"

"give us this day our daily bread"...a line from the famous Christian prayer. we look at the fact that we have been provided with the daily necessities of life. from food to shelter. three meals a day and we never get hungry. our daily bread. 365 days of not lacking the basic necessities is one deep reason to be thankful. in reality, we have been given more than our daily bread, but most of us (this includes me) are still worried on how to have more. they say that human wants is insatiable, that we can never get contented once we have experienced a certain degree of satisfaction. we tend to want more and more of the things we believe could make us feel satisfied. from "give us this day our daily bread" to "just give me more bread". this is because we are not thankful for the things we already have or we have received, instead we focus on the things we don't have and how we can acquire them. we end up either temporarily satisfied or disappointed.

another reason to be thankful is that we were not created to live alone. we are surrounded by our loved ones, our friends, people who care for us. Albert Schweitzer, a philosopher and a theologian, has said it well, they are the people who provide the spark to rekindle our light whenever it goes out. they are those who console us in times of loneliness and despair, they are the people who are always willing to support and protect us whenever we feel weak. we know who they are and we know that they deserve our deep gratitude.

have we also been thankful for the 'not-so-good' things, the bad things, the trials and struggles of life?being thankful does not only include the good things but also things which may have caused suffering but have made us better people.

kariton heroism

A lowly "kariton" or literally a wooden pushcart could actually be an effective tool to reach the slums and educate the underserved Filipino youth. And that force which makes the kariton continue to roll is Efren Peñaflorida's passion to teach and help.

I've read in the papers about two days ago that Peñaflorida's international acclaim is an indictment of the government's failure to provide education to the poor. I find the article's claim as something very agreeable, if some politician would help the needy they have to have the media for the public to know, it's as if to brag and shout 'look here! i'm helping the poor!i'm helping the poor!'. Now almost everybody wants a piece of Efren Peñaflorida and most of them are politicians, they still believe in the power of transferability of fame/popularity as one columnist said. If you are close to someone with a very honorable reputation and people see you with them, people would believe that you are somehow as good as them. Like some former mayor joining a famous boxer's welcome parade or a president giving an award to a famous boxer. The funny thing about it is that sometimes the concept of transferability doesn't work as recent surveys showed that the president's popularity went down.

So much about politicking these days. Let's go back to the kariton hero, I would also like to believe that there is still hope. Efren Peñaflorida is the Manny Pacquiao of educators, his fight is against poverty and moral deterioration. He absolutely deserves the CNN Hero award, for someone who probably thinks that these awards are just secondary to what he's after. This is one good reason to be proud of being a Filipino, that we could still have high ideals and that we still have the ability to actualize them. One thing is probably clear for someone like Efren, it's the fact that he didn't need the government to help the needy children in the slums. Helping other people doesn't have to be that grand, we could help even without the financial wealth, we have ourselves and our kariton- our time, talents, and treasure. Let me end this with something from Efren himself: “When people regard me as a hero, I always tell them that they should look inside them too because I believe that there’s a hero inside every one of us and all we have to is just to open our eyes wide and feel what’s going on, then let our hearts be willing to accommodate the needy, the desperate and the hopeless simply by extending our hand to them, and there you will unfold the hero that is in you.”

The challenge is, are we ready to push our own kariton?

image taken from this site

GNH

Philippine Institute for Development Studies (PIDS) defines Gross National Product or GNP as "a measure of the country's output of final goods and services for an accounting period in terms of its market or purchaser's value. When valued at constant base year pesos, GNP at constant base year prices provides an overall index of the physical volume of goods and services produced by the economy over the period."

In simpler terms, GNP is a measure of how good a country's economic performance is in terms of income and production or output. In the case of the Philippines, our GNP in 2008 was T 8,250, 249 Php , what does this value tell us? Clearly GNP is only limited to the country's final output and income, it does not show how income is distributed and how it affects every individual's well-being or quality of life. It is not a reliable indicator of true progress, even economists recognize this fact. It is not an assurance that people are actually better off in a certain country if it attained a high GNP value.

Recognizing this fact and that GNP should be channeled towards happiness, the 4th King of Bhutan (in 1972) came up with the concept of Gross National Happiness or GNH making him the author of the exact phrase. Traditional indicators tend to focus on the material sense of a country's economy valued in monetary terms since this is perhaps the most objective way of measuring performance. GNH, though quite subjective and even an ideal concept, focuses on what the traditional indicators failed to measure; this includes culture, psychological well-being, education, good governance, etc.

If we apply this concept to the Philippines, would our GNH be positive? We'll probably have a positive value as recent surveys show that we're one of the happiest people on earth. It's quite clear to us that money can't buy happiness. Even in the midst of material poverty, we can still be happy. I guess we don't have much choice but to be happy. In a culture where the word "government" is almost synonymous to corruption, inefficiency, and rottenness, happiness can still be seen in fiestas and gimmicks, in the very simplicity of celebrating life. Isn't real poverty all about being unwanted? That you may have all your material wants but still lack the feeling of being liked or even loved. We all have to deal with life's great "trade-offs". One economic principle puts it, "the cost of something is what you give up to get it."

image source: http://idealistik.joueb.com/images/mask.gif

a blind man's cloak

it's a sunny but windy afternoon here in my place, reminds me of summer only that it's happening on an October day. talk about erratic weather brought about by climate change. i just finished watering the plants, some of them withered because of the heat and the wind. humidity isn't that high the fact that the soil dries up quickly. siesta's perhaps the most appropriate thing to do but the weather's just perfect for an afternoon reflection.

about two weeks ago, one of the books i'm reading entitled 'Reflections on Augustine's Search for God' talked about blindness in the second chapter, it says there that Augustine 'believed that sight was the most precious sense power that we humans possess.... better by far to be poor and seeing than to be rich and blind'. just imagine living without our sense of sight, complete darkness, we only get to hear what other people see without us truly understanding what they are saying. i remember last month, my grandma organized and went on a field trip for the differently-abled people including the blind to legazpi, albay. i asked her, with that familiar skeptical tone, how would the blind appreciate the majestic mayon volcano? how do you explain the almost perfect cone shape of the volcano? she replied, 'they just know.'

last Sunday's gospel was Mark 10:46-52, a clear coincidence that this was also discussed in the second chapter of the book i mentioned earlier, it's about a blind man named Bartimaeus (literally means 'Son of Timaeus'). he is actually one of my favorite biblical characters, he was one of those who did not give up hope, who showed so much faith in the Master and because of that, he regained his sight.

since Bartimaeus was blind, he had to beg for a living. blindness and poverty. i would've given up hope if i were him. the priest, in his homily last sunday, focused on the significance of Bartimaeus' cloak, the only possession he had. saving him from the day's heat and his source of warmth during cold nights. the cloak is similar to our so-called security blankets as the priest said. these are the things or persons which we believe are the source of our sense of security, that is, we feel secured in their presence or when we have them. it could go from the literal sense like a child's security blanket he likes a lot he can't just sleep without it or to 'greater' things like possession of wealth or power. some are at the point of worshipping these things, they have become their idols in other words. the very hindrance in seeing the Truth. the priest continued his homily by asking, 'what makes us feel secured? is it money? is it power?'

clearly these things just come and go, fleeting so they say. everything temporary.

there is certainly nothing wrong in trying to attain that sense or feeling of being secured but we have to know who or what is it that we depend on. would they last? or would they just make us idolatrous?

what Bartimaeus did teaches us a great lesson on what should really be the source of our sense of security. security is something more than the possession of great wealth or power, for we could still grow unhappy and be full of discontentment even in the presence of these things.

Bartimaeus, after hearing the commotion and after he found out that the Master was passing by, throws off his cloak, rose up and approached the Master. In the Old Testament, as the priest mentioned, throwing off one's cloak is to let go or to cast off an old way of life and embrace a new way of life. He didn't need his cloak, his only possession, for he has found his true source of security.

on idle words

i got this from a book entitled 'the spiritual exercises of st. ignatius' which i bought almost two weeks ago. though it's a spiritual reading the practical side of it is very useful in day to day living especially in a world dictated by words and noise. here it is:

'no idle word should be uttered. i understand a word to be idle when it serves no good purpose, either for myself or for another, and was not intended to do so. hence, words are never idle when spoken for any useful purpose, or when meant to serve the good of one's own soul or that of another, of the body or of temporal possessions. nor are they idle because one speaks of matters

that do not pertain to his state, for example, if a religious speaks of wars or of commerce. in all we have mentioned, there will be merit if what is said is directed to some good purpose; there will be sin if it is directed to an evil purpose, or if engaged in for no good end. '

an Deus sit?

this photo was taken circa 2008 somewhere in pasig. it tends to answer the old latin question from St. Thomas Aquinas' 'Summa Theologiae', 'an Deus sit?' which literally means 'is there a God?'. we reflect on what could have made that person write it on the wall. was the person an atheist? the first thing i could think of is that the person would like to say something definite, 'there is no God' in the absence of proofs. the same way when someone expresses an emotion. it's simply, as i see it, what the person feels. goodness is something attributed to God, maybe the person doesn't experience goodness so he/she concludes that there is no God. the person may have so many doubts or unanswered questions or is going through a lot of sufferings and goes by dismissing the notion that God does not exist. it is somehow easier to prove that He does not exist than disproving that He does.

let's not go very far to explain this, Ondoy(Ketsana) victims would very well explain what i'm saying. the floods didn't filter those who are innocent from those who are not. it simply passed, not having any notion of who's good or who's evil. and for those who have obeyed or even religiously followed God, they only have one question, 'what did we do to deserve this?'

it's not really easy to believe in God, first of the reasons why is that we cannot see God. we call it 'faith' when we believe in the 'unseen' existence of God, His invisibility. second reason is, there is so much evil in the world, most of them uncontrollable and if they are controllable they still continue to happen. it makes me think that some people derive great pleasure from doing these things. it's difficult to think of God in the midst of injustice or if we think of God all we can do is blame Him for allowing us to suffer.

going back to what that calamity has brought us, did it really come from God? or was it simply caused by urbanization? God surely did not cut those trees that were there before villages or subdivisions were established. we're simply beginning to reap the consequences of what we've sown. this answers the question, 'what did we do to deserve this?' and God isn't much of a factor so as to cause that calamity.

my uncle's house in pasig was submerged in flood of about 6 feet when Ketsana passed by. i wasn't there when it happened but my housemates were there, my best friend was there, some of my things were there. i only got to visit the place after four days. ghastly. that's the more appropriate word to describe what i saw while i was on my way to our place, the thick mud the flood left, the stench of rotten rice, piles of garbage, and hopelessness felt looking at the people trying to recover what can still be saved. when i arrived at the house, a pile of trash outside greeted me, what caught my attention a guitar, only the front part was there lying on top of the trash. 'things fall apart' is the title of a book i've read back in college and it best describes the whole scenario just looking at that hopeless muddy body and the broken strings of the guitar. i went inside the house and just near the main door were some of my things, papers, books, rare cd's, clothes, etc. i didn't get a clear picture of what really happened and how it looked like until i saw the place myself. they even told me that it was cleaner than the first day they transferred to the house. they actually evacuated to our neighbor's house which was two-storey, ours is a bungalow. it was difficult to accept the mess the calamity created. it was a mixture of awe and frustration. but compared to what they've been through, those who were there to meet the floods and save themselves, starved for two days, waited...what i was feeling was nothing compared to what they've suffered. looking at what they have experienced,what is clear to me is that if you're given that situation, that calamity, what you'll actually save first, is yourself and some food to keep you going for days, and the remaining valuables you can carry and you find necessary. it certainly wouldn't be a grand piano, except if one is given the luxury of time.

what is also clear to me and this also serves as a lesson, is that we only begin to see who are those we can really depend on in times of need and that we become more aware of what really matters in life. it's certainly not the things we own which has accumulated for years, not our properties, and not even the precious things we have kept safe or even secured. we begin to see our true value when things fall apart.

we continue to pray for the victims of Ondoy (Ketsana) and Pepeng (Parma). we pray for those who are in great need. for those who have died because of the said calamities. our prayers may be the most effective way of reaching out to them even if we don't have the material means to help them.

photo: red candles from my aunt ina

lomi cuarenta y cinco!

the last time i talked about how i've really enjoyed the food i ate was when i went to calaguas (calaguas getaway). this blog appears to be from someone who doesn't eat at all, an ascetic maybe, i say it's the opposite, food is something i simply enjoy. now that i'm staying in the province i have access to bicolano food and one of my favorite restos which we'll talk about in a bit. yes, i've gained a lot of weight but that's another story. another reason why i don't discuss much about real food is that this is not a food blog, it's more of a 'food-for-thought' blog. i'm thinking of creating a food blog, but i'll probably start next year. this entry is a recollection of a place called 'new china'. a restaurant. it was established in the late 50's and it looks really old now. the name of the place is a clear contradiction/contrast of how the place looks like. the restaurant has always been like that, the sitting arrangement, the familiar furniture, and the mirror that covers half of the wall to make the place appear spacious and perhaps to see who doesn't pay the bill. i've heard that the place has become dirty but i didn't notice, that's what i've always been hearing anyway. it's a chinese restaurant in the first place. i go there once a week to eat my favorite lomi or chopsuey rice. as you enter the restaurant, a waiter/waitress approaches and takes your order. in my case it's lomi, the waiter/waitress then approaches the kitchen area then shouts 'o lomi cuarenta y cinco!' or 'lomi forty-five!', it means lomi, single serving. same old way of getting orders and passing it to the kitchen. no mics and loud speakers. just the old and high pitched voice of the waiters and waitresses. it hasn't changed except for the tiled floor.

i remember my parents would usually bring us there on sundays after attending the mass. i was probably six or seven , i simply didn't like the place, it's a place for old people. it doesn't have a mascot and if it had one, i don't know if i'd like it. they didn't have happy meals or kiddy meals. that's what a resto was for me, mascots, happy or kiddy meals, children playing on some corner and a smiling lady at the counter. food wasn't that appetizing, vegies and more vegies. i was a food ignoramous then. it was in that resto that i learned how to eat real food and eat really well. it probably goes with age, tastebuds metamorphosis.

let's go back to how they serve the food, after yelling the order to the kitchen area (it's probably a requirement there that cooks have good functional ears to hear those yells or shouts), the waiter/waitress goes to a bar-like area to get a glass of water with some ice, the utensils, and a saucer with a lemoncito (Citrus sp.). while i wait for my order, i do the familiar ritual of making a dipping sauce of lemoncito (Citrus sp.) and soy sauce. it really doesn't take long before they serve your food, in about five minutes, it's ready. my favorite lomi cuarenta y cinco is served on cracked, faded, old chinese bowl. hot, thick egg-based soup with their own house egg noodles of fine strands, vegies, and tender meat. it's really good for merienda, quite filling too. and looking at it from an economist's perspective, it's worth the price. the place is more than a half century now, and it isn't dying. many people still come, mostly old people accompanied by their grandchildren, passing on a tradition of good food to the next generation.

a day in the life of a kristo

earlier i had a 'for-the-road' session with my uncle, five bottles of my favorite cerveza and an interesting tale of a certain kristo. if you've read my previous entry (of metal talons, spurs, and kristos) , i may have committed a mistake in saying that kristo's take bets in the cockfighting arena when they are actually the individuals who bet, they act as the 'middlemen' or even the 'representatives' of their boss. here's how that kristo's supposedly lucky day went:

his boss or 'manager', as kristos usually call their boss, was quite lucky that day, it was a 'big time' derby. his boss finished early and gave him Php 1,500.00 as his tip. he thought that since his boss was lucky why not try his luck as well. the kristo decided to bet all the money his boss gave him and from that amount it became Php 44,000.00. it made him happy. his long-time plan of buying his own motorcycle would finally come true, not to mention that he still could spend a big amount to celebrate his luck with his fellow 'sabungeros' or kristo's. his friend, also a kristo, served as his kristo. it sounds a bit confusing, a kristo having his own kristo. just to make a clear distinction, he was the lucky kristo, where would someone get that amount? Php 44,000.00 in just one day. the lucky kristo was ready to take home his big prize when his kristo-friend tempted him to bet another Php 5,000.00 and he did. what's Php 5,000.00 anyway? guess what happened to that supposedly lucky kristo? from Php 44,000.00 he went back to zero, literally. the kristo, having nothing, ended his day sitting on a corner of the arena covering his face with his hands.

true story. what do we get from this? it's quite simple, if you're a kristo, never trust another kristo no matter how big your prize is. kristo's are 'trial-and-error' analysts. the lesson is obviously more than what i've said earlier.

i clearly have nothing against kristo's, i'm quite interested with their 'job title'. i'm even thinking of the possibility if there's a hierarchy in their field. could there be a 'head-kristo'? a 'junior kristo'? or 'apprentice-kristo'? this could be a profitable business, make an institution responsible for the formation of future kristo's. yes, a kristo school.

let me end with another story, this is about a proud boy who was asked by his teacher what he wants to be in the future (i hope that this is just a story) :

'when i grow up, i want to be just like my father.'

'what's your father's job?', the teacher asked.

the boy innocently answered, 'he's a kristo.'

epitaph

"...loved you in life, much more in death."

this was the inscription of my grandma's (mother side) tombstone. everytime i visit her grave

the first thing i do is read her epitaph and it never fails to make me smile, of all the epitaphs available, why did they choose this? and until now i still don't know who thought of it. the inscription could mean two things, the first is quite funny, we loved you when you were alive but we love you more because you're dead or simply we're happier because you're dead and the second meaning is how we're supposed to interpret it, we love you more even in your death, we will never forget you.

yesterday i was asked to give my comments on the landscape design of Raul S. Roco's grave in preparation for his birth anniversary. i'm no landscape artist but i did have some background when i took a subject when i was in college. i didn't know that he was buried here until i saw his grave. it was gray and it was made of granite tiles. my friend, the city librarian told me that his (Roco's) death anniversary was last August 5, the same day when Cory was laid to rest, he told me that he was the only one who came to commemorate the senator's death anniversary.

i told him that you can't complain when no one's visiting you when you're dead no matter how powerful you were when you were still alive. i think it's quite humbling. when the senator was still alive, he was famous for fighting against erap's cohorts in the impeachment trial. he even ran for president twice in the 1998 and 2004 elections.

the grave cannot boast about these facts anymore all it can give is its eternal silence. the name, the date, the memory the dead person made, and the epitaph which tries to speak to the reader but doesn't make a sound at all. its silence is a reminder that we are mortals and we're all gonna go there. there's no way we can escape.

i'm beginning to think of what my epitaph would be. the late senator's epitaph was quite moving,

"I met death, and he said 'Live on!'"

I think my epitaph would probably be, "Get off my lawn!"

yellow redefined

August started with a sad news. She's gone. Learning from history books, Cory Aquino was indeed an icon of democracy. She's what every poilitician should imitate. I want to focus more on how she changed the meaning of yellow. I'm not quite sure how she chose yellow as her political color/motif, I'm thinking it's from the old song 'tie a yellow ribbon'. I personally don't like yellow, it's too loud, and the meaning of the word is another reason why. 'yellow' means cowardice.
I've always thought that Cory was a cowardly woman, it made me think that women are really weak as presidents. Yellow really fits her. This impression came from a story I've heard when I was still about ten, they said Cory hid under her bed while there was a coup attempt outside the Palace, it was a 30-hour revolt. I just found out the other day that this was not true. Her ex-chief bodyguard related the story that when he tried to warn Cory, still the president that time, that there has been shooting outside; he found the president combing her hair, preparing for the media later that day. Cory filed a libel suit against the columnist and the publisher responsible for that 'hiding-under-the-bed' rumor, showing her room and proving the fact that it's not possible to hide under her bed since it had a mattress-to-carpet wooden base.

I was ten and perhaps wasn't too interested to know if the information I got was true or not. I just believed and made my own judgments on what kind of president Cory was. I even shared that story to some of my friends. pardon my ignorance. i was still ten. Now that it's clear to me that she wasn't a cowardly woman and that there are a lot of reasons to believe that she was indeed a brave soul, here, we don't have to go very far to prove this, she was a simple housewife before she became our leader or even the mother of this country. She has, getting it from what she did and how she did things all for the name of democracy, changed the meaning of 'yellow' to courage and bravery.

What did I learn from Cory? I heard a bishop say in his final commendation earlier at the funeral mass, 'thank you for teaching us how to pray'. We would all agree that Cory was indeed prayerful and at the same time vigilant of what's happening in the country. She watched, prayed, and acted. May her fight for freedom be not wasted. With her, let us continue to watch, pray, and act.

of metal talons, spurs, and kristos

it was an arena of jeers and shouts almost done in unison. it sounded like a chant of about a thousand men anxious to win. it was my firsthand experience of what a cockfighting arena was, of what really happens in a cockfighting match or simply 'sabong'.i was with my uncle when i went there, he served as my 'sabong' guide. there was a registration fee/entrance fee, Php 100.00, probably for using the facility/building. at the cockfighting match proper, you get to choose between 'llamado and dehado', 'meron o wala' in the vernacular. i didn't quite get how the betting part works but how the game works was quite simple, even violent, the name of the game itself tells us what occurs in the match. two poor creatures are set to fight until their death or (seldomly) injury. by attaching spurs or metal talons on one of their feet, serving as their weapons of death. the blades were too sharp, just one strike after a clash makes the fight quite bloody. before a match begins, the bell rings, to signal the placing of bets among those who will join. and the chanting/shouting begins, 'wala!wala!wala!', 'meron!meron!meron!', 'siete dies!' siete dies!', 'dies!' 'dies!' 'dies!' making bodily gestures while shouting, the scenario is similar to what happens in the stock market. time is of the essence.ranging from a minimum amount of Php20.00 to probably about Php200.00. a match lasts for about a minute, the 'sentenciador' or referee raises the winning creature. this is also the time when bets/wagers are settled by handing/passing the money to the person involved in the wager. the transaction is quite fast, in a matter of three minutes the arena is ready for the next match. i won the first four matches, i forgot how many matches i betted in, but i didn't spend a single peso. i got to take home Php 200.00 just by choosing which creature could win for about 3 hours. i spent the money to buy 4 kilos of good rice and half a kilo of fish. what did i learn from that experience? it's quite simple, if there's an easier way or if there's a short-cut to double one's money, even if it's a gamble or a game of chance, people would try to bet. gambling is just as normal as the day.i didn't find the experience a potential addiction or a possible vice for me. another reason why i went to check the place was to see what 'kristo's' (christ's) do, sounds really biblical, but their role is to take bets, they are like middlemen/brokers in the arena. and i heard it's not difficult to become a 'kristo'. it really sounds interesting how they made the word, it's not even close to whatever the real Christ did.probably the same when it comes to the human aspect but quite far from what they do. i thought there's only one kristo in every arena, but i just found out that there a lot of them. i thought they were some sort of prophetic characters, i thought they have the answer as to which creature will win the fight. since cockfighting is a gamble, there is nothing redemptive about the 'kristo's' there. there is nothing redemptive......

(image from natgeo)

juana change

Today is always the result of actions and decisions taken yesterday. Man, however, whatever his title or rank, cannot foresee the future. Yesterday's actions and decisions, no matter how courageous or wise they may have been, inevitably become today's problems, crises, and stupidities.- Peter Drucker, The Effective Executive.

yesterday's paper mentioned juana change, i thought it was some sort of gimmick written on the front page (juana change pdi article). after reading the article i went to the website and clicked on the youtube link and checked the videos. almost all the relevant issues especially political ones can be seen on the videos. most of them are funny, the way the actress and the characters portray what's really happening in the Philippines. my first reaction was to find the videos hilarious but watching them again made me realize that they are more than spoofs, they are in fact what the country is facing and is suffering from.

juana change as mentioned in the article could mean two things:

it could be read as 'wa na change'- simply dismisses the country as a hopeless case of corrupt and morally rotten people.

or the other way of saying it is 'wanna change'- the strong desire to change our old ways in achieving both economic stability and real freedom.

in addition, i think the third way of putting or reading it is 'wanna change?'. in a form of a question, and for each citizen to answer, i think everbody does want change. question now is, what are we doing to achieve that change?

here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/user/JuanaChange

expiry date

i've read in the papers earlier that the world's oldest man died yesterday, a japanese, he was 113.or simply put it, a mortal with an older-than-usual age just died yesterday.next to 113 or no matter how old, we don't know exactly when, is death. unscheduled, unexpected most of the time but clearly inevitable. we do not have a definite expiry date as compared to food products like canned goods and perishable goods. we will perish without any notification like our monthly bills. and perhaps the most feared aspect of dying is that we do not how we are going to face it, it's not death itself but how we are going to die. majority or almost all would prefer a peaceful death, who wouldn't want that anyway? i share the same desire. death, as peaceful as can be.

the very thought of death, as i've observed and even experienced, drives people to be good and do good. goodness comes out everytime one realizes how short life is, how one has wasted so much time on useless and senseless things, yes, the very thought of death temporarily makes an individual resolve that he has to make use of his time wisely. it's temporary, let's not forget that man is a forgetful being. forgetting is the only thing he doesn't forget. man may be aware of this fact but he, as expected, forgets. as soon as man forgets the reality that he is mortal, he goes back to his old ways. it's a vicious circle of forgetting and realizing that this life is full of limitations.

was Rizal ambidextrous?

let us give some time to reflect on freedom as we commemorate Philippine independence.

i started early today, for morning exercise, biking and jogging. i passed by Naga City Hall, it's near our place, outside the main building is a statue of Rizal with an enlarged right hand making a gesture. The hand wasn't there about ten years ago. i remember we had a good laugh at that statue way back, i was with my grandma and she noticed the unusually big hand newly installed on the right arm of the statue. it doesn't matter if he was right-handed, left-handed, or what do we know? he probably was ambidextrous. i saw paintings where Rizal is writing using his right hand. let's just assume he was right-handed. trivial as it may seem, the point here is that he wrote and by what he wrote, fought for freedom and died for it.patriotic martyrdom as we call it. the absence of his right hand is somehow symbolic, it's more of a call for every citizen to be his right hand, to continue to fight for sacred freedom.

a question arises, for more than a hundred and ten years, are we really free as a nation?

or are we merely enjoying freedom in the nominal sense?

can we gladly claim that we are experiencing actual freedom?or do we just hope for an ideal one and find it impossible since it's becoming a hopeless case as time passes? what is real freedom?

now with Rizal's enlarged right hand, he'd be slapping our faces for what we have done.

freedom is clearly not doing whatever we want or whatever we like to do. for if this is the case, this country would be suffering from chaos. it's happening though, corrupt politicians and various scandals exist. it has always been a struggle for power and different forms of abuse after attaining it. after attaining power, the person experiences unexplainable hunger for more, it's what we call greed. is there any freedom in greed? i don't think so. i remember a cabinet member, who's also an excellent economist, instructing one of his subordinates: 'moderate their greed.' this is already coming from what i believed as a man of good principles. greed or even corruption as an acceptable activity in the government. where the people's taxes go.... moderation of some politician's greed. we can't blame that  economist. the one at the top knows this very well, and probably tolerates greed in moderation. 'Do everything in moderation', as Aristotle would put it, but clearly, not greed. Greed is in itself something you cannot moderate for the fact that it is  greed! Wanting more when one already has enough. But then again, let's not just focus on the government, let's look at individuals, ourselves, and how we apply our shallow understanding of freedom, it's as simple as throwing our trash anywhere we want to. i saw this a lot of times. indolence and making reasons why people can't land a good job. anyway, 'it's the government's fault' is a very handy answer.

'freedom is not doing what we want but what we ought to do.' i believe this is from the late Pope John Paul II. since people/citizens makes a country, we have to work from the individual perspective. if each individual has a clear understanding that the price of freedom is indeed responsibility, we won't have to point our fingers on who's fault is it. it's ours anyway, it was collectively done. this country wouldn't be like this if we didn't permit it to be so.  

for us to truly attain freedom, we have to have an awareness of what it really is and what it entails. and it just doesn't stop with awareness, we also have to act.

a 30-minute entry

this month would not end without writing another entry. i decided to give the activity about 30 mins. and work with the randomness of human thought. i have nothing much to do today, perhaps read,  the family business just closed yesterday...for good, yes, i really think it's for common good, summum bonum for Aristotle. i felt sick last night for taking a lot of my favorite beer and also a lot of food. now, what's my next plan? i'm thinking about the academe, probably teach part-time, i can't work full-time with a boss babbling everytime one commits a mistake. 

i've been reading the papers lately,  main events include a sex scandal and a deadly disease spreading in the country. this has perhaps become a country of disease, literally and figuratively.

is there any cure to these? the politicians are doing all they can to get a big share of popularity from these events.

i have probably reached, just like any other citizen, point of indifference. i know what's happening but what's new?i've grown cynical, whether one does something good or not, it's always distrust for them. save some of my known good friends. ah, we have to make exceptions to balance things. isn't it a clear case of hypocrisy? probably, but it isn't a great case. we all have peter's and judas' inside us. 

finally, i'm thinking about voting on next year's elections, another exception.  indifference or active awareness and responsiblity tells me that i may need to vote even if the elites choose to  play with our sacred ballots or so we think it is. i say it's not just the government's role to change the face of the country but every citizen involved. so much for clean ideals. 30 minutes has elapsed. short passing of time and my random thoughts.

moth of time

I was checking our shelves for some books two days ago and found this. It's a book entitled, 'A Stone, A Leaf, A Door', a collection of poems by Thomas Wolfe. I tried browsing the book and found a long poem, it consumed eleven pages of the book. Here it is:

This Is Man

by Thomas Wolfe

For what is man?

First, a child,  soft-boned,

Unable to support itself on its rubbery legs,

Befouled with its excrement,

That howls and laughs by turns,

Cries for the moon 

But hushes when it gets it's mother's teat ;

A sleeper, eater, guzzler,

Howler, laugher, idiot,

And a chewer of its toe;

A little tender thing

All blubbered with its spit,

A reacher into fires,

A beloved fool.

After that, a boy,

Hoarse and loud before his companions,

But afraid of the dark;

Will beat the weaker and avoid the stronger;

Worships strength and savagery,

Loves tales of war and murder, and violence done to 

        others;

Joins gangs and hates to be alone;

Makes heroes out of soldiers, sailors,

Prize-fighters, football players,

Cowboys, gunmen, and detectives;

Would rather die than not out-try

And out-dare his companions,

Wants to beat them and always to win,

Shows his muscle

And demands that it be felt,

Boasts of his victories

And will never own defeat.

Then the youth:

Goes after girls, is foul behind their backs

Among the drugstore boys,

Hints at a hundred seductions,

But gets pimples on his face;

Begins to think about his clothes,

Becomes a fop, greases his hair,

Smokes cigarettes with a dissipated air,

Reads novels, and writes poetry on the sly.

He sees the world now

As a pair of legs and breasts;

He knows hate, love, and jealousy;

He is cowardly and foolish,

He cannot endure to be alone;

He lives in a crowd, thinks with the crowd,

Is afraid to be marked off from his fellows

By an eccentricity.

He joins clubs and is afraid of ridicule;

He is bored and unhappy

And wretched most of the time.

There is a great cavity in him,

He is dull.

Then the man:

He is busy,

He is full of plans and reasons,

He has work.

He gets children,

Buys and sells small packets of everlasting earth,

Intrigues against his rivals,

Is exultant when he chaets them.

He wastes his little three-score years and ten

In spendthrift and inglorious living;

From his cradle to his grave

He scarcely sees

The sun or moon or stars;

He is unconscious of the immortal sea and earth;

He talks of the future

And he wastes it as it comes.

If he is lucky, he saves money.

At the end, his fat purse buys him flunkeys

To carry him where his shanks no longer can;

He consumes rich food and golden wine

That his wretched stomach has no hunger for;

His weary and lifeless eyes

Look out upon the scenery of strange lands

For which in youth his heart was painting.

Then the slow death,

Prolonged by costly doctors;

And finally the graduate undertakers,

The perfumed carrion,

The suave ushers with palms outspread to leftwards,

The fast motor-hearses,

And the earth again.

This is man:

A writer of books, a putter-down of words,

A painter of pictures,

A maker of ten thousand philosophies,

He grows passionate over ideas,

He hurls scorn and mockery at another's work,

He finds the one way, the true way, for himself,

And calls all others false-

Yet in the billion books upon the shelves

There is not one that can tell him

How to draw a single fleeting breath

In peace and comfort.

He makes histories of the universe,

He directs the destiny of nations,

But he does not know his own history,

And he cannot direct his own destiny

With dignity or wisdom

For ten consecutive minutes.

This is man:

For the most part

A foul, wretched, abominable creature,

A packet of decay,

A bundle of degenerating tissues,

A creature that gets old and hairless

And has a foul breath,

A hater of his kind,

A cheater, a scorner,

A mocker, a reviler,

A thing that kills and murders in a mob

Or in the dark,

Loud and full of brag surrounded by his fellows,

But without the courage of a rat, alone.

He will cringe for a coin,

And show his snarling fangs behind the giver's back;

He will cheat for two sous,

And kill for forty dollars,

And weep copiously in court

To keep another scoundrel out of jail.

This is man,

Who will steal his friend's woman,

Feel the leg of his host's wife below the table-cloth,

Dump fortunes on his whores,

Bow down in worship before charlatans,

And let his poets die.

This is man,

Who swears who will live only

For beauty, for art, for the spirit,

But will live only

For fashion,

And will change his faith and his convictions

As soon as fashion changes.

This is man,

The great warrior with a flaccid gut,

The great romantic with the barren loins,

The eternal knave devouring the eternal fool,

The most glorious of all the animals,

Who uses his brain for the most part

To make himself a stench

In the nostrils of the Bull, the Fox, 

The Dog, the Tiger, and the Goat.

Yes, this is man,

And it is impossible to say the worst of him,

For the record of his obscene existence,

His baseness, lust, cruelty, and treachery,

Is illimitable.

His life is also full of toil, tumult, and suffering.

His days are mainly composed

Of a million idiot repetitions-

In goings and comings along hot streets,

In sweatings and freezings,

In the senseless accumulation of fruitless tasks,

In decaying and  being patched,

In grinding out his life

So that he may buy bad food,

In eating bad food

So that he may grind his life out

In destressful defecations.

He is the dweller on that ruined tenement

Who, from one moment's breathing to another,

Can hardly forget the bitter weight of his uneasy flesh,

The thousand diseases and distresses of his body,

The growing incubus of his corruption.

This is man,

Who, if he can remember ten golden moments of joy

        and happiness

Out of all his years,

Ten moments unmarked by care,

Unseamed by aches or itches,

Has power to lift himself with his expiring breath,

And say: "I have lived upon this earth

And known glory!"

This is man,

And one wonders why he wants to live at all.

A third of his life is lost and deadened under sleep;

Another third is given to a sterile labor;

A sixth is spent in all his goings and his comings;

In the moil and shuffle of the streets,

In thrusting, shoving, pawing.

How much for him is left, then,

For a vision of the tragic stars?

How much of him is left

To look upon the everlasting earth?

How much of him is left for glory

And the making of great songs?

A few snatched moments only

From the barren glut and suck of living.

Here, then, is man,

This moth of time,

This dupe of brevity and numbered hours,

This travesty of waste and sterile breath.

Yet if the gods could come here

To  a desolate, deserted earth

Where only the ruin of man's cities remained,

Where only a few marks and carvings of his hand

Were legible upon his broken tablets,

Where only a wheel lay rusting in the desert sand,

A cry would burst out of their hearts

And they would say:

"He lived, and he was here!"

Behold his works:

He needed speech to ask for bread-and he had Christ!

He needed songs to sing in battle-and he had Homer!

He needed words to curse his enemies-

And he had Dante, he had Voltaire, he had Swift!

He needed cloth to cover up his hairless, puny flesh

        against the seasons-

And he wove the robes of Solomon,

He made the garments of great kings,

He made the samite for the young knights!

He needed walls and a roof to shelter him-

And he made Blois!

He needed a temple to propitiate his God-

And he made Chartres and Fountains Abbey!

He was born to creep upon the earth-

And he made great wheels,

He sent great engines thundering down the rails,

He launched great wings into the air,

He put great ship upon the angry sea!

Plagues wasted him,

And cruel wars destroyed his sons,

Bbut fire, flood, and famine could not quench him.

No, nor the inexorable grave-

His sons leaped shouting from his dying loins.

The shaggy bison with his thews of thunder

Died upon the plains;

The fabled mammoths of the unrecorded ages

Are vast scaffoldings of dry insensate loam;

The panthers have learned caution

And move carefully among tall grasses to the water-

        hole;

And man lives on

Amid the senseless nihilism of the universe.

For there is one belief, one faith,

That is man's glory, his triumph, his immortality-

And that is his belief in life.

Man loves life,

And loving life, hates death,

And because of this he is great, he is glorious,

He is beautiful, and his beauty is everlasting.

He lives below the senseless stars

And writes his meanings in them.

He lives in fear, in toil,

In agony, and in unending tumult,

But if the blood foamed bubbling from his wounded 

        lungs

At every breath he drew,

He would still love life more dearly

Than an end of breathing.

Dying, his eyes burn beautifully,

And the old hunger shines more fiercely in them-

He has endured all the hard and purposeless suffering,

And still he wants to live.

Thus it is impossible to scorn this creature.

For out of his strong belief in life,

This puny man made love.

At his best,

He is love.

Without him 

There can be no love,

No hunger, no desire.

So this is man-the worst and best of him-

This frail and petty thing

Who lives his day

And dies like all other animals,

And is forgotten.

And yet, he is immortal, too.

For both the good and evil that he does

Live after him.

Why, then, should any living man

Ally himself with death,

And, in his greed and blindness,

Batten on his brother's blood?

When I read the whole poem, it wasn't difficult to understand unlike poems  made by other poets like Shakespeare, Cummings or Frost. It sounded more like a reflection in verse form, the way it was written gives value to every word. Words tend to be heavy basing it from the structure of the stanzas...every line gives a strong emotion. The part where the poet said that man is just a 'moth of time' but that 'he is great, he is glorious'  really struck me.  This is similar to what Pascal said that 'man is a reed...but he is a thinking reed.' Clearly paradoxical, puny but great, weak but strong, almost saying that man is himself a paradox. The poem sounds existentialist, the center of meaning is in man's very existence. If Descartes said 'Cogito ergo sum.' (I think therefore I am.)

An existentialist like Unamuno would say 'Sum ergo cogito.'(I am therefore I think.)

World Digital Library

Here's something booklovers could look forward to. 

The World Digital Library will launch on 21 April 2oo9.

The website will provide free access to rare books, maps, photographs, rare recordings, musical scores and films from cultures around the world.

http://www.worlddigitallibrary.org

It's an ongoing project of UNESCO and US Library of Congress 

profound

The only thing that consoles us for our miseries is diversion. And yet it is the greatest of our miseries. For it is that above all which prevents us thinking about ourselves and leads us imperceptibly to destruction. But for that we should be bored, and boredom would drive us to seek some more solid means of escape, but diversion passes our time and brings us imperceptibly to our death.

                                                               - Pensees no. 414, Blaise Pascal

We  say a statement (and the person who said it)  is profound when we find it deep, almost inconceivable. We tend to see the limitation of our thoughts as compared to the person who said that profound statement. Silence is the only ready answer we'd choose. Silence, as they say, could only mean two things after a profound statement; it's either one really understands what has been said and opts to ponder on it in silence or one, this is the case most of the time, did not understand what has been said and would rather not show ignorance. 

As for the profound person or just those who sound profound, we have two ways of proving or two ways to validate if they really are. First is that they know the difference between 'knowing' and 'believing'. Mere knowledge of something is quite easy, it's as simple as knowing an information after reading a book. Knowing how to say them may make a little difference, as to show that he is an intelligent person, that he is capable of saying 'profound' things. Believing is quite far from knowing, it's when after reading a book, the person looks for more out of thirst and hunger for wisdom and tries to apply what he has read out of deep understanding. Believing is knowing and having a deep understanding  of what the person knows.

The second way to see if a person is really profound is when the profound statement is a product of what he practices, of how he lives his life. Being profound is beyond mere words, people as rational beings would look for those words in the person's action and character. Being profound is more than just speaking wise words or expressing deep thoughts, it is when we act out of wisdom and when we practice the different virtues to mould character. 

Let us be not like the pharisees, do what they say but don't imitate what they do.

order

Take care of order and order will take care of you. - St. Augustine


it is high time to reorganize how i run things, looking at how i've spent my days in laxity here in the province. i'm losing focus. my priorities are all cluttered, not knowing which is to be given much importance. i thought it would be much easier in the absence of a corporate boss, but the burden is heavier than before.all i have now is myself to drag to work. sure, i have my goals, but how to put them in the right place is, as i see it, a very difficult thing to do.
when i reflect, i read what i find relevant to the current topic. the readings serve as a guide to widen my considerations regarding the matter.for this i've read joseph l. soria's booklet entitled 'order'. here's an excerpt from the reading which i found really helpful:

"Let's look at two rather frequent attitudes towards the availability and use of time:
a) that of thinking we don't have enough time to do all that we have to do, and
b) that of thinking we have more than enough time.
The first arises when we do have a good appreciation of time, but don't know how to use it in an orderly way. The second is when--because of a different kind of disorder, or idleness -- we forget that time is a gift and that it is a limited good.

I don't have enough time

Many if not most cases of lack of time are really lacks of order: either we don't know how to organize ourselves well, or we are trying to do more things than we can and should do, and this is also a disorder. If we don't have enough time, it may be that we are not attacking our jobs in the order of their importance, or that the same kind of disorder is leading us to use more time than is necessary.

Do I have more time than I need?

Unfortunately, our most common mistake is to forget that time is limited and to fail to properly evaluate the quantity and quality of things that we have to do in this space of time...if time were only gold, you could perhaps afford to squander it. But time is life, and you don't know how much you have left.
A hardworking person makes good use of time , for time is not only money, it is glory! He does as he ought and concentrates on what he is doing, not out of routine nor to while away the passing hours, but as the result of attentive and pondered reflection. This is what makes man diligent.
Our everyday usage of this word 'diligent' already gives us some idea of its Latin origin. 'Diligent' comes from the verb 'diligere', which means to love, to appreciate, to choose something after careful consideration and attention. The diligent man does not rush into things. He does his work thoughtfully and lovingly.

Conclusion

We shouldn't feel discouraged, if at some moment -- perhaps after reading these pages-- we become especially conscious of the disorder in our lives. Little by little, with patience and discipline, we can set about acquiring the habits that provide the framework of order that we need."

calaguas getaway

14 March 2009

0540- left naga city, rode an ordinary bus going to daet. Php 94.00.

0800-arrived at daet diversion road, trike to jeepney terminal. Php 7.00

0810- rode jeepney to vinzons.Php 8.00

0820-vinzons.trike going to 'pier'. met the team.Php 7.00

0830-sabang.picked-up ice box for seafood bought earlier at vinzons pier.this is where james 23 (ramon's the real name) joined, along with edwin. they were our 'guides'.

0900-trip to calaguas. 2 hours. big waves. blue water.they started the motor/engine, not knowing that it would be one wild ride.i only realized the trouble i was in when our puny banca fought with the big waves. it wasn't an easy ride. Php 375.00/person

1100-arrived at mahabang buhangin (long beach), calaguas group of islands. it was pure awe for me while the banca was approaching the island. pristine is the right word to describe the place. there is still such a place, i've read they're planning to develop the place to another boracay. after the wild ride...there was paradise...waiting...it was just the sound of the engine, the waves, and the island's silence. 'the grandeur of God's works' as my aunt said in her comment when she saw the photos.

1100-1430- prepared lunch. ate lunch.grilled pork chops. grilled tuna. tomato soup. played twister. conversations. siesta. six of us went there. a bunch of first-timers in the place.to spend some quality time even for a finite period.it was my best friend (pompo) who invited me as he was fond of such activities, he was with his team, a mountaineering group. i saw how organized they were. it was like a team building event, one is given a role, participate and be effective at it. i was more of spectator,come supper i was a cook.i brought a can of cranberry and a can of mushrooms just to add to what they bought. cranberry's a bit weird. they made fun of it. i also found it a bit unusual, but we made a good dessert out of it during supper.renz opened a bottle of cuatro cantos (gin) and mixed half of it with powdered juice, added some water and we started to drink it using a shot glass, joyce and summer joined as well. while j and pompo didn't.

1430-went to the source of spring water. about one kilometer or more away from the camping site. the water tasted clean. it was refreshing after a long walk.

1500-conversations.merienda. the other half of cuatro cantos was consumed as well.

1600-went to the coastal community (james 23, pompo, renz and i), barrio mangkawayan to look for some fish and alcohol. it's a 3 kilometer walk from the shore. met mang renato, an official(one of the councilors) along the way and he served as our guide. he showed us the place and discussed briefly the livelihood of the community. they mainly get their livelihood from fishing and selling other seafood like octopus, abalone, and sea cucumber.we bought a 4-kilo tanigue (narrow barred spanish mackerel).about a quarter was used to make kilawin (similar to ceviche). the the other quarter was grilled. half of the fish (head

part) was eaten for breakfast, the head was grilled and the rest was used for fish steak.mang renato told us that lambanog (coconut wine/gin) is great in the place. we bought six servings (one serving = a bilog bottle of gin= Php 14.50).

from what i have observed, the people there are living frugal lives. they earn little income but they are happy with it. they are happy when tourists come. i saw the children play.they always smile everytime we'd get photos of them.

1745-2100- we weren't able to see the sunset. i was more excited with the food. fresh fish for only Php 450.00, a good buy. james 23 started preparing the kilawin while i was giving him instructions; renz cooked rice also helped j set-up the tent; j, summer, and joyce set-up their tents; pompo grilled the other tuna, a quarter of the tanigue and marinated liempo (i cooked oyster and mushrooms in soy sauce added some ginger, garlic, and onion.made banana and cranberry (j's idea) for dessert. we ate dinner on the rectangular lid of the ice box, we placed the viand at the sides and rice at the center of the lid. we ate with our hands (kamayan). food was great! it was a feast. we left some kilawin for pulutan (appetizer). after supper, we went to the spring water to get some and for them to bathe.

2100- a little late and tired for our socials. bonfire was lit. we leaned on a big trunk of a weathered tree, the night was cold and windy. we started drinking lambanog, cracked some jokes, light conversations, recollection of past treks. here, i got to know more about my new friends/acquaintances. j's 'tisop', joyce's 'paraisong hubad' (naked paradise), summer's wedding ring apparition in galera; renz's 'puto-makers in calasiao, pag nasa pilipinas sila (when they're in the philippines)'; pompo's 'techniques' and corny jokes; and my flying 'face towel'. a rainshower ended our socials at around 12 midnight. we only consumed half of the lambanog (it didn't taste good, they probably added some adulterants, most possibly water).

15 March 2009

0130- i woke up and heard renz, joyce, and summer talking about a stolen amount of money. i was too sleepy to rise and just went back to sleep.

0600-woke up. talked about the incident. the thief/thieves stole Php 3,000.00 and all the food we brought except tanigue, rice, and the left-over dessert. it was joyce's money.

0630- morning walk.reflection time. a community would always have those kind of people.co-existence of good and evil. later, the chief tanod (barangay police) would tell us that it serves as a lesson for us tourists. i asked them, why us? but he has a point. we were a bit lax with the locals. they told us it was the first time an incident like that happened. i soon found out that it wasn't when we arrived at sabang. one of the women there told me, the thief usually steals food not money.

0700-0900- went to the barrio to report the incident and buy some bread. people listened as i narrated what happened, they all denied that the thief is from their place. told me people from their place wouldn't do such a thing. the councilor we met was there, the chief and assistant chief tanod were there. they joined when we walked back to the site,they talked to james 23, it was him who saw the thief, he said the thief was wearing white shirt and escaped going to the direction of the barrio. james 23 didn't run after the thief, he called edwin instead.

0900-0945- cooked brunch. grilled tanigue head and fish steak.

0945-1000-swam on the beach. strong waves. cold water.

1000-1045-went to the spring water area and took a bath. got some drinking water as well.

1045- because of the strong waves, the banca can't reach the shore so we had to swim against the big waves. the banca was about 50 meters from the shore. had one painful cramps on my left calf, while i swam towards the banca.

1045-1300- trip to vinzons. Php 375.00. it was a dangerous trip as our banca almost collapsed because of the big waves. i doubt if i'd still go back to that place. but i did enjoy the whole trip. it wasn't easy. it was both the voyage and the destination that mattered. the voyage made us more appreciative of the destination. a well-deserved prize in the absence of a race.

1300-1330-trip to daet. trike and jeepney.Php15.00

1330-1430-lunch at a chinese resto. rice toppings, they ordered halo-halo. i had two bottles of cold cerveza. i think it was the best way to end the trip.

paralysis

yesterday, around one  p.m., i went to the city plaza to read the day's paper and answer the 

crossword puzzle. while i was looking for the comics and puzzle section an old lame man approached me and asked, 'what's the headline?'. i looked for the front page and showed it to him, he murmured something and sat beside me. he started a conversation, 'who do you think will be the next president?', i just replied who the possible contenders are on the 2010 elections. he made some comments about the picture on the front page, it was yesterday's edsa anniversary.

the next question, which really struck me and which kept me thinking even after that conversation, was 'what would you do with your life if you were paralyzed like me?'.  i didn't give an immediate answer, it was both the feeling of pity and surprise for me. i asked, 'how long have you been paralyzed?'.

he had been like that for 8 years, and from what i saw he didn't seem to care about his physical infirmity. i told him, 'i would read a lot of books and write until my time comes, in that sense i would have not wasted my time waiting for death.' 

'wouldn't you feel bad at all? do you think God is responsible for our suffering?' 

'i would feel bad. but do you not think that man's suffering is mainly the consequence of what he

has done in the past? i don't see any reason why man should blame God for all his suffering.'

the conversation lasted for about an hour. it was spontaneous, sarcastic and profound. witty, i would say. he was somehow amused and skeptical why i know such things at my age. 

...tempus tantum nostrum est

'Omnia aliena sunt tempus tantum nostrum est.'

'Nothing is ours except our time.'

                  - Seneca, Epistulae Morales Liber 1.1, Lucilio suo salutem.

I'm currently reading Peter Drucker's 'The Effective Executive'. 

The author sounds like a greek philosopher of management in this book. The book isn't just for executives or for people at the top, it's for people who make decisions in the normal course of their work but have substantial effect on the performance of the whole organization. 

Chapter 2 of the book discusses the importance of time management. Here's something worth reflecting on:

'Time is also a unique resource. Of the other major resources, money is actually quite plentiful.

We long ago should have learned that it is the demand for capital, rather than the supply thereof, which sets the limit to economic growth and activity. People-- the third limiting resource-- one can hire, though one can rarely hire enough good people. But one cannot rent, hire, buy or otherwise obtain more time.

The supply of time is totally inelastic. No matter how high the demand, the supply will not go up. There is no price for it and no marginal utility curve for it. Moreover, time is totally perishable and cannot be stored. Yesterday's time is gone for ever and will never come back. Time is, therefore, always in exceedingly short supply.

Time is totally irreplaceable. Within limits we can substitute one resource for another, copper for aluminum, for instance. We can substitute capital for human labour. We can use more knowledge or more brawn. But there is no substitute for time.'

Please excuse some economic jargons, but the paragraphs above have been clear enough to establish the great value of time, the fact that it is a limiting factor, that it is perishable, and that it is irreplaceable. 

One good question to ponder on: How do we spend time? 

The time we have isn't different from what other people have, still limiting, still perishable and irreplaceable. The difference lies in how people spend it.

caecus

I watched the film entitled "Into great silence", at the last part, it was an old blind monk

reflecting on how he has lived his life in faith. This just clearly supports the thought that physical sight or the ability to see is not an assurance of faith. Here's what the old monk said:

"No.Why be afraid of death?

It is the fate of all humans.

The closer one brings oneself to God,

the happier one is.

It is the end of our lives.

The closer one brings oneself to God,

the happier one is.

The faster one hurries to meet him.

One should have no fear of death.

On the contrary!

For us, it is a great joy

to find a father once again.

The past, the present,

these are human.

In God there is no past.

Solely the present prevails.

And when God sees us,

He always sees our entire life.

And because...He is an infinitely good being...

He eternally seeks our well-being

Therefore, there is no cause for worry

in any of the things which happen to us

I often thank God

that he let me be blinded.

I am sure that he let this happen for the good of 

my soul.

It is a pity that the world has lost all

sense of God.

It is a pity...

They have no reason to live anymore.

When you abolish the thought of God,

why should you go on living on this earth?

One must always part from the principle

that God is infinitely good,

and that all of his actions are in our best interest.

Because of this a Christian should always be happy,

never unhappy.

Because everything that happens is God's will,

and it only happens for the well-being of our soul.

Well, this is the most important.

God is infinitely good, almighty,

and he help us.

This is all one must do, and then one is happy."

Profound. When I watched the blind monk speak it was as if he has seen everything or it

was as if he has seen God. In the spiritual sense it's not impossible. It's easy to remember what was said before, 'they have eyes, but do not see. ears, but do not hear.' 

of fruits and resolutions

they have to light some firecrackers to drive away the bad spirits. loud bangs can't do that for spirits do not have ears and would even be celebrating.

vexations to the human soul. i don't know why people would spend several pesos for some noise even if there's crisis. who knows where the bad spirits go or what they do after those bangs?it's probably business as usual for them. 

people know that january is going to be lean after spending much, but people are ready to suffer just to celebrate the holidays. what could be noisier than pockets almost empty because of too much spending?

some round fruits for luck, for a prosperous year. i don't know how round fruits could make the year prosperous, i've never really seen how this works. but if it does, we would have been prosperous.all of the families who always do this out of tradition would have also been prosperous.we do this almost every year.same old round fruits.but we always arrive at the same outcome.we say that the year has been fair. gained some and lost some.

superficial, that's how we have been celebrating these events.we focus on the manner not the heart of the matter.

is it not clear that the matter or even the reason for these events is more than what we've been doing all along?