Archive for life

The Vision

{ August 17, 2008 @ 1:36 p08 } · { life, meaning }
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In a world where all the lines are blurred, it’s normal that people, especially the young ones, get lost, confused, and disappointed by this fallen world. And I’m writing this to tell you that there is hope. We just have to have vision. The Bible says that without vision, “we perish” (Proverbs29:18). Unfortunately, this world has cast off restraint is dying by degrees. We lack vision to do a lot of things. For students, we lack vision in our education that a lot of people have thrown caution to the wind, destroyed their lives and are now running around, aimlessly. They smile but there smiles are empty. They laugh but deep inside they don’t feel as happy as they look. Without vision, we lose ourselves. Without vision, we are empty. Without vision, we are walking but not seeing.

Just want to share a really good poem by Pete Greig entitled The Vision.
It has touched millions of lives from a single room in England to Washington D.C., Sydney, Australia, and the underground Church of China. These words have stirred artists, DJs, filmmakers, and countless ordinary people to live “dangerously, obsessively, and undeniably” for Jesus. (words borrowed from Pete Greig’s book The Vision and The Vow)

The Vision – by Pete Greig

So this guy comes up to me and says:
“what’s the vision? What’s the big idea?”
I open my mouth and words come out like this:
The vision?

The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.

The vision is an army of young people.
You see bones? I see an army.
And they are FREE from materialism.

They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.

They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations.
They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision ?

The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes children laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.
It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.

Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.
This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose,
that they might one day win
the great ‘Well done’ of faithful sons and daughters.

Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: “COME ON!”

And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history in the making
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing…
This is the sound of the underground

And the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their back boasts “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain”.

Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.
Winners. Martyrs.
Who can stop them ?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them ?

And the generation prays

like a dying man
with groans beyond talking,
with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and
with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.

Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive

Inside.

On the outside? They hardly care.
They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives – swap seats with the man on death row – guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.

With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.

Don’t you hear them coming?

Herald the weirdo’s! Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this vision will be.
It will come to pass;
it will come easily;
it will come soon.

How do I know?

Because this is the longing of creation itself,
the groaning of the Spirit,
the very dream of God.

My tomorrow is his today.
My distant hope is his 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from countless angels, from hero’s of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.

Guaranteed.

Walking on Water

{ June 30, 2008 @ 1:36 p06 } · { books, life, meaning, thoughts }
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As I go through the day, I can’t help but think if I am indeed living in reality. Because in the core of my being, I feel that this is not it. I know. I’ve read it in the Bible and it’s so easy to say to yourself after reading it that it’s so true. That this is not yet the reality that we should be living in. Everything in this world is saying that this is all just temporary. And I have to admit that really feeling it’s temporariness is a great feeling. Everything suddenly becomes real.

After Take No Glory left Dumaguete, everything just changed. I cannot explain this awesome feeling but it is real. God is real and there is no turning back. I chose to walk with Him and I am discovering more amazing truths everyday.

Everything that I do in this world will leave a mark no matter how ordinary that can be. Time is not what we know it to be. It’s not just what we see in our watches. Time is not limited to what we do in this earth.

While we are talking about time, let me share with you something amazing I have just read from Walking on Water by Madeleine L’Engle:

As the echoes of the beginning linger, so, too, all that moves outward in gradually diminishing but never-ending sound waves. One of the more delightful mysteries of sound came when the on one of our early spaceships heard a program of nostalgic music over their sound system and radioed NASA to thank whoever it was who had sent them the program. From NASA came a baffled reply that they had sent the astronauts no such program and knew nothing about it.

This phenomenon triggered a good deal of interest and research: who had beamed the music to the astronauts? What was its source? All the radio and tv programs all over teh country that day and hour were checked out, and none of them was responsible for the music the astronauts had so enjoyed. Further research. Could they all have imagined hearing a nonexistent program of old popular songs? Was it a kind of mass hallucination? It seemed highly unlikely. Research finally revealed that that particualer program had been broadcast in the 1930s.[emphasis mine]

That just goes to show that everything that we do will always count. I don’t want to waste my time.

We have never been taught this amazing truth in the classroom when we were learning how to tell the time. In this world, we may never have to know it but if you’re looking for reality, this may count a lot. Everything that we know of reality is only a small percent of the real thing. There are a lot of things that our finite minds can never grasp. At least, not in this lifetime anyway.

You may be asking why on earth is that important. I have been trying to write stories and nothing makes sense. I figured that the reason behind that is I have to unlearn the “grown-up” perspective of this world. Honestly, it makes everything hard. Our so-called self-control and understanding can only do harm in us.

We have to be childlike in a way. People may be telling you that fairy tales or fiction in general is a waste of time. That you should be reading biographies or scholarly books. Why don’t you balance it? Fiction holds a lot of truth. The kind of truth that you can never find in “things that make sense”. Remember, Jesus never preached the truth in highfalutin words. He used parables, stories.

If life seems worthless to you, remember how you were when you were in the fourth grade and everything was new and beautiful. Remember the feeling when there was nothing between you and the world. And walk on.

Latin Mass

{ November 11, 2007 @ 1:36 p11 } · { life, love, meaning }
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A regular Sunday. My roommate and I woke up at 6am to attend the 7am mass. I hope that I can wake up early every Sunday and attend this mass as it is more peaceful and the church is less crowded. But halfway through the mass, my mind seems to fly away from the church and the mass and it settled on my unfinished news stories for Com22. I kept on revising a day schedule in my head while “listening” to the homily. After church, grab some breakfast, start writing my news stories, then go to the briefing for the David Pomeranz concert at 1pm. I can never give all my attention to what the priest was saying. Unlike Wednesday college nights, my whole attention is on the message of God and my mind stays put. What is it with the regular Catholic mass that it just can’t catch my attention for a whole one hour?

I think it’s because I’ve been attending these masses since I was a baby. No. I didn’t attend. My mother dragged me to go to church. But when I opened my inbox and read the article in New York Times about Pope Benedict XVI allowing the traditional or Tridentine Mass and listened to the audio slideshow, it was mysterious, enchanting. And for me, it seemed more sacred than the Mass I attend every Sunday in English or the vernacular. There really is something about the traditional mass that makes it more solemn and quiet.

According to Kelly Rein, 16, “It’s quiet. People are paying attention. In the English Mass, it’s noisy. There are babies crying. But here people are completely focused on God.”

More than 40 years ago , the groundbreaking Second Vatican Council introduced Mass in the vernacular, sending the Latin Mass into disuse and alienating some Catholics.

But last summer, Pope Benedict XVI eased restrictions on the rite, and new celebrations of the Latin Mass are flowering. To the surprise of many, the rite has attracted priests and parishioners too young to have experienced the Latin Mass when it was the norm.

The Tridentine Mass was codified at the Council of Trent in 1570, after which it is named. In it, the priest faces the altar, not the congregation. He prays in Latin, much of it in a whisper, although readings from Scripture and the sermon are in the vernacular. A missal in Latin and English allows parishioners to follow along.

“There’s a curiosity, and it is consistent with people looking for the transcendent and holy, which they maybe didn’t see in the Mass they attended growing up,” said the Rev. Keith F. Pecklers, professor of liturgy at Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome.

Reading all this makes me want to go to Rome or somewhere where a Tridentine mass is performed. I want to feel the mystery and experience it personally. Maybe…….

Source: The New York Times, November 10, 2007

The Beginning

{ October 28, 2007 @ 1:36 p10 } · { Yabang Pinoy!, life, love, travel }
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NDC may be over but this is just the beginning of everything.

Just got back from Baguio City. Major weather adjustment.

Anyway, I’m back to reality. But I’m not complaining here. I had fun during the NDC. =)

–Baguio was lovely. I love the weather and I hope that I could bring it with me wherever I go. I just didn’t have enough time to really explore the place. I’d have to come back someday.

–PMA is the most beautiful campus I had ever been to. Words are not enough to describe it. Definitely.

–And of course, being in PMA allowed the NDC participants to meet some cadets and actually take a peek at their everyday lives. After one week in PMA, I now fully appreciate everything that soldiers do just to protect the citizens. They may look stiff in their uniforms and their expressions may tell everyone that they are tough but one week was enough to make me understand that they are human, too. Human beings who make big sacrifices to answer their calling and serve the country. It was fun seeing them laugh, talk excitedly, and all that. Even if they still walk stiffly. =)

–This tournament made me appreciate debate as more than just debate. This tournament showed me that debate is a delicate art that needs time and patience and perseverance for one to succeed and bask in the sense of fulfillment and satisfaction it can give. I met different debaters from all over the country and saw varying degrees of commitment to the craft. And it’s all beautiful.

–My fellow debaters from the SU Debsoc. You guys are super fun to be with. I can never forget all the laughter, late-night to early morning chicka sessions, shopping, eating out, and basically, just being together and being one big happy family. I’ll never ever forget you guys. You made my life even more beautiful. I’m looking forward to more debates and fun in the future. =)

After all that, one question still remains unanswered. What next? I’d have to say that this is just the beginning of everything. After meeting people who are dedicated enough to suffer for our country, people who love debate and value freedom of expression, people who laugh despite the pain, it just made me see life in a different perspective. It made me see that life is indeed beautiful and there’s more to what you have now if you just look in the right place.

I guess I just have to go with the flow. Life will take me to where I’m supposed to be. And while I’m on my way there, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the journey. =)

THW condemn the act of proscrastination among college students

{ October 6, 2007 @ 1:36 p10 } · { life, rant }
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It’s finals and I still procrastinate. I’ve been fighting this disease for so long now. Actually, when the sem started I made it a goal to do everything as soon as it was given and not wait ’till the last minute (I hope I learned my lesson after the BC25 first draft episode). But no matter how hard I try, it is unavoidable. You see, if I do it immediately, as in after a stressful day in school, I’d feel drained and that’s not good for the quality of my work as the state of mind of a person can affect the output greatly. And second, if all I do is related to schoolwork that means I don’t have time to read newspapers or magazines and catch up with what’s happening around the world and that’s just terrible. I don’t want to live under a rock!

You see? I have a LOT of excuses to not strike when the iron is hot. So how do I avoid procrastination for good? Before I go to the solution of this ever-present problem, let’s take a good look at the cause.

Procrastination is the act or habit of procrastinating, or putting off to a future time; delay; dilatoriness. Okay. So we all know that. But what do we do when we delay doing an important thing?

Case study:

There was a college girl who took up Mass Communication because she said she loved writing, talking, curious about advertising and marketing and all the things masscom students are supposed to do. Anyway, on a Saturday morning her alarm clock rang at 7:15. Although she would usually sleep until 11am on weekends, she woke up early that day to do everything she has to do. She reached for her dark blue planner and took a look at what she’s supposed to do that day (she has carefully written everything in detail the night before so that she won’t waste her precious time in thinking of what to do the next morning.) Quite proud of herself, she picked up her bible and prayed. After praying, she took a quick shower and prepared coffee to start her day. While sipping her favorite mug of hot coffee, she picked up a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and turned to chapter 15, sat down on an uncomfortable plastic chair and started reading. After one chapter, the coffee mug was still half full so she decided to read another chapter. An hour and a half later, she closed the book, picked up the mug and washed it. She decided it was time to start reading her Com21 photocopies. Plopping down on a chair, photocopy and yellow highlighter in hand, she read the first paragraph. As she was about to start reading the second paragraph, a thought popped up and she decided to write about it. So she picked up her purple hard-bound journal and black Pilot pen and started scribbling. An hour later and six pages filled-up, she decided to continue her readings. Halfway through the second paragraph, her cellphone beeped. It was a text message from her friend inviting her out to an early lunch. She then decided to bring her photocopied readings so she could read while waiting for the food. Dressed in a tank top and jeans with a black and white headband secured neatly and white ballet flats on her feet, she picked up her black backpack and left confident the day is still long enough. After lunch, at exactly 2pm, she decided to go the library and study there in peace. Boy, was she wrong! The first floor was crowded so she went to the second floor but it was also crowded. With no choice left, she headed to the third floor sans air conditioning. She placed her things on a table and took a newspaper for matter loading purposes. After reading almost every article, she decided to go to the first floor and study in the ASRC. It was 3pm. In the ASRC, she sat on her favorite corner and took out her readings. Then she saw a copy of The Best American Travel Stories 2002. She took it from the shelf and read it instead. Time flew fast and it was 5:30pm. Time for the library to close. Outside the library, she decided to go back to the boarding house and study foe real. Her cellphone beeped and the message was from a fellow debater. She decided that she wanted to casebuild after all and went, completely forgetting about the photocopied readings folded inside her bag, waiting to be read. At 9pm, after casebuilding, everyone decided to go out for dinner. At 11pm, she was back in her boarding house, tired. She only had enough energy to change into her sleeping clothes, brush her teeth, crawl to bed, and pray. As she lay down, she felt extremely guilty but decided that she could do it tomorrow.

What happened to the list she made? What happened to her promise? That’s how powerful procrastination can be. And it’s sad. Very sad.

Active avoidance. That’s how to describe procrastination best. Active may be a good word but not when the next word is avoidance. It sounds pretty nasty.

So what do you think should that girl do in order to avoid doing that again? FOCUS.

Yeah right. It’s easier said (or written) than done. *sigh*

Overwhelmed

{ September 27, 2007 @ 1:36 p09 } · { life, rant }
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As the 1st semester draws to a close, everyone just gets so busy. My planner is so full of commitments that instead of helping me finish whatever it is that I have to finish, it makes me feel so dizzy that I end up reading my Harry Potter book to de-stress, instead.

I know that it is my fault and that I couldn’t blame anyone if ever I breakdown from all the things that I have to do. I’m not complainig here. In fact, I don’t have a right to complain. I put myself in this situation because I love what I’m doing. What really annoys me is that I just can’t wake up at 7am. Even if I do, I tend to sleep in class in front of my teacher. What am I going to do? I can’t afford to have another “de-stressing” session because time is running fast. I can’t keep up with it. Help!

Baghdad’s intellectual core suffered, too

{ September 17, 2007 @ 1:36 p09 } · { books, life, love }
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An article from the new York Times really caught my eye. Normally, I wouldn’t read stuff about Baghdad anymore because I feel sick and tired of the war. But this is a new angle. It wasn’t about the American soldiers anymore or about the hundred’s of Iraqis dying. This one is about the death of the Mutanabi Street market which was the source of joy of Baghdad’s intelligentsia.

Mr. Ismail turned and faced the street. “Books, books: five books for 1,000 dinars, one for 250,” he shouted, his voice thick as a tenor’s, from his years of studying acting. “Come on, come on, those who are hungry for literature!”

Exactly 15 men looked on.

    I cannot imagine how life for these men had been for the past year when a daytime curfew was imposed for almost a year. Mutanabi is the capital’s 1,000-year-old intellectual core and that day, which was a Friday, people celebrated the market’s potential revival.
    A bombing on March 5 sealed this beautiful business and it hasn’t been opened until now.
    Despite people dying because of the war, the booksellers are slowly testing their freedom by opening their beloved bookshops for business.
Here is the paragraph that really tugged at my heart strings:

Books, on the other hand, brought reliable joy. Mr. Ismail picked up a black hardcover history of the Kurds, with an attractive photo on the front. Tapping it twice with his right hand, sending dust flying, he kissed the cover and said, “We are happy to be here again with these beautiful books.”

   Imagine the solace and comfort these books are giving to people like Mr. Ismail who have been haunted by the horrors war have brought to Iraq.

Here is a poem written by Ibn Al-Utri:

Baghdad in the ninth century, after rampaging armies destroyed the city in a dispute involving caliphate succession.

“Who invaded you, Baghdad?” Mr. Shatry said, his voice rising for the performance.

Weren’t you once as dear to me as my eye?

Wasn’t there a time when people lived within you, when being neighbors was a blessing?

Then the crow came and divided them. How much grief can you endure?

I swear by God, there are people lost who, whenever I remember them, my eyes start flowing with tears.
I am glad that the comfort I have always found in reading books have reached even war-torn Iraq. That despite the terrors war have brought upon them, they haven’t forgotten the beauty and warmth of books. =)

To conform or not to conform?

{ September 12, 2007 @ 1:36 p09 } · { life }
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Conformity is meeting the standards of society or what people would call “normal” or “acceptable”. Conforming to such “standards” doesn’t come from society as a whole. This can be watered down to family, friends, and what-not.

Then there is the basic human need to belong. And to belong to a certain group usually means that you have to meet their standards and be a bit like them. You have to do what they expect you to do. If you won’t, prepare for conflicts and feeling left out.

The questions here are: do we really have to conform to their standards? Do we have to do whatever it is that they want us to do in order to be accepted? Are they usually correct?

When we talk about conformity in this century, I believe that there is no such thing. We are diverse and every individual is unique and different which is what makes this world interesting and it’s the fuel that keeps this world going.

What irks me about this whole conforming thing or what is also known as “let’s-go-with-the-flow-in-order-to-avoid-conflict” thing, is that you have to be molded in a different “dough shaper”, something that is not meant for you, just to belong with the other “cookies”. When in fact, there’s another dough shaper that is so perfect for you and if you go for who you really are, you can be the best that you can be. That means, no more mediocre cookies (I’m referring to people) in this world!

Bottomline is, just be yourself. Don’t care about what other people think. If they are real people (or real friends), they’ll understand you and support you. If they’re not, then this is a challenge. Face it head on. It will improve you in the long run. And the blabbermouths? Well, they’ll wear out. Besides, you’re not doing this for them. You’re working hard and it’s all for God, right?

P.S. You know who you are. =)

Lesser Evil

{ September 10, 2007 @ 1:36 p09 } · { life }
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One question. Which one would you choose? Mediocrity or failure? hmmm……. If you’d ask me I’d choose mediocrity than fail. =/

I got to read an article in an old issue of Newsweek last Saturday. It was an article about Maria Celeste Arraras, a broadcast journalist. She’s successful right now and all that. You know what’s amazing about the way her dad treated mediocrity? It’s like this…

She brought home a grade of C in some test or whatever. then her dad talked to her and said, “In this household, you have to either be the best of the best or the best of the worst. But never mediocre.”

If you ask me, a C is fine. In fact, it’s a-okay. At least I didn’t fail. But I think the real meat in that principle is that you have no other way to go but up. Succeed. Because if you don’t, you fail.

So always do your best in everything you do and never settle for mediocrity. Because the problem that is so prevalent in today’s world (especially the academe) is mediocrity. Mediocre papers, mediocre homework, mediocre performance, everything mediocre. It’s like some people don’t see the value of hard work. And another cause of mediocrity in the academe would be the fact that some students don’t get to study what they want to study. It’s not bringing out the best in them.

Oh, and the main reason why some people don’t see the value of hard work and settle for mediocrity is the fact that they don’t really work for a better cause. It’s like, okay, I’m studying right now so I can get a better and secured future. Okay, I’m working because i need money for the family and what-not. But isn’t there a higher purpose for our hard work? And isn’t that purpose God? We’re working for Him. We’re using the talents He has given us and we get the strength to go the extra mile from Him and the passions He gave us. Shouldn’t we put these gifts into good use and strive for excellence?

So, which is the lesser evil? Is it going for mediocrity as long as we don’t fail? Or strive hard to succeed but when we do fail, accept that fact wholeheartedly? I’m letting you decide.