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Showing posts with label munimuni. Show all posts
Showing posts with label munimuni. Show all posts

Friday, August 3, 2012

On Learning Happiness

 Some years ago, my siblings and I created what we would imagine could be the titles to Mama's life story if it were to be filmed.

1. LIFE SUCKS!
2. Luluha Ako ng Dugo
3. Balang Araw, Mararamdaman Nyo Rin
4. I Have 3 Beautiful Children, 4 Adorable Grandchildren...ay, at Handsome Husband Pala. But Life Sucks Anyway!
5.The Many Angst of D
6. Survivor of Own Torments
7. I Live to Grieve
8. Why Me, Lord?
9. I'm Happy Being Unhappy
10. Disgruntled Granny, Sucking the Life of Unsuspecting Relatives 

     The titles were borne out of our frustration with having to deal with a mother who was to my mind pathologically unhappy. It all sounds really irreverent but humor was one way my siblings and I faced what was a pretty regular situation in our family.  It was the weapon we used to prevent our spirits from being weighed down too much. It took quite an effort (at least, for me) to soar away from the doldrums because unhappiness can be quite contagious. To this day, I wonder why none of us siblings ended up seeing the world in this dim light, or in psychological terms, how we managed to construe the world differently from our mother.

            In a Positive Psychology class I attended, our  discussions on Happiness validated my belief that it is how we view our life events, whether we interpret them as positive or negative, that dictates whether we experience happiness or its opposite. This much I gathered from my interactions with significant people in my life who exemplified the descriptions of people who could be considered happy or unhappy individuals. In the article by Sonja Lyubomirsky, it was stated that there are people who appear to have a “talent for happiness” in that they “see the world around them through rose-colored glasses, make out the silver lining even in misfortune, live in the present, and find joy in the little things from day to day.” Then there are people who, “even in the best of times, seem chronically unhappy, peering at the world through gray-colored spectacles, always complaining, accentuating the negative, dwelling on the downside of both the trivial and the sublime, and generally deriving little pleasure from life”.
            
            After going through the list of differences between happy and unhappy people and possible reasons for these differences, I could clearly see to where certain people in my life belonged and how living in separate subjective worlds affected the way they conducted their lives. Like watching scenes of my interactions with them, I now understood how their perception of their worlds differed in the “cognitive, judgmental, and motivational strategies” they used in making sense of their experiences. An eye-opener for me was the qualification that these operations were “largely automatically and without awareness.”

              It was also at this point that I begun to absolve myself of my almost nil record of success at trying to assuage the misery that these people periodically went through. My attempts to remind them of their blessings against the lower rate of failures and deprivations were largely unsuccessful to bring them to a state of happiness. And this led me to feel frustration, anger, and guilt for my inability to bring them to see a different point of view. Plainly stated, I could now forgive myself for these negative feelings if I could believe that there was really nothing I could do if there was no desire in them to change their perceptions.

            But looking back at our family’s experience, I would not entirely discount how life deprivations may contribute to one’s experience of happiness. I couldn’t say that using the objectivist-bottom up tradition to understand happiness is entirely useless. I still think that if Mama had the advantages of a “comfortable income, robust health, a supportive marriage, and lack of tragedy” in her life, she would have been a happier person. And this is where I guess I understand why Mama was the way she was. From her youth to her old age, deprivations, challenges, and tragedies were constantly thrown her way. Relative to how our lives have been so far, I can say we had it better than what she had.  Who can say how we would interpret life events if we had gone through what she did?

               And so when I read again the "movie titles" in the context of what I know now about happiness, I feel a tinge of regret for being harshly judgmental at that time. Maybe how I look at life differently from her, I owe to Mama. When I go back to the past I realize now that I had forgotten how her joy and celebratory spirit during successes and good times had become an inspiration for me to pursue that kind of life for myself. It was her strength to rise above tragedies that instilled that resolve in me not to drown in sorrow in the face of failures and instead turn to my blessings to lift me up.  Could it be I taught myself to be happy by using humor and gratitude as tools to help me through tough times?  If I did, am I teaching the same lessons to my children now? I hope that when they write about me in my old age, they will say they learned happiness from me.    

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Still incomplete

      For my sister, Ling, who always provides me the biggest pieces in this evolving thing...

Many of us through life looking for that single, perfect person who will make us happy, make us whole. We go around looking vulnerable, showing the gaping hole in our hearts, thinking that someone special out there has the power to stop the bleeding. Maybe it will be a guru who will provide all the answers to our life questions. Or a soul-mate who will always be in sync with our thoughts and will rejoice in our shared idiosyncracies. Or the love of one's life who will feed our desires and provide the reasons for bliss and contentment. And of course, many of us, if not all, end up disappointed in this impossible quest.

In my fading years, I can say with utmost certainty that we can never rely on any one person to make us complete. Aside from holes in our heart and spirit which call for mending, parts of us were never with us to begin with.  I think that one purpose of life is to find those missing pieces in our family, our friends, and maybe that one great love. Those who love us unconditionally, those who reject us, and those who can no longer be part of our lives - all of them have given us something to make us whole. The search for completion goes on all throughout our lives. The journey ends only when we, and no one else, decide that we are done.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

My Inner Diva

 

 

"This is diva therapy, it’s when you need grand gestures of fabulousness added with a high level of art doused with a bit of gossip and giggles to keep one’s mood buoyant."

           I almost didn't buy this pair of slip-ons. While they appealed to my aesthetic sense, I wasn't sure if the excessive display of color and the intricate bead work belonged to something that would just shod my feet. But the "bongga" in me could not be contained. It was just struggling to get out!

          I've always had trouble deciding between that which is subtle and understated and something that would be considered bright and flamboyant. Much as I believe in "less is more," I am also in awe of intricate and small details in designs.Whether these choices concern my wardrobe or home decor, I'm usually stumped when there are two equally active alternatives. Recently, when faced with a choice between beige or red for a pair of shoes, a colleague proposed a solution by suggesting that I just get both. Which I gladly did to help contain the inner struggle!

          That I would be attracted to color schemes & designs that are poles apart probably speak of the two persons that I am.  On the surface, I try to project a persona of calm and restraint but deep inside me resides this creature who wants to express vividly all that she feels about her life.  I want people to know that my joy (or its complete opposite sometimes) cannot be contained in simple, uncomplicated packages!   All I know is it makes me happy to be part of the beauty that surrounds me!

             Oh yes, my inner diva has been awakened! At least for a little while. All it needed was a call from a pair of outrageously colorful Liliw slip-ons. 

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Dilemma

    So many times in the recent months, I've thought about giving up teaching. Maybe because I get the feeling I am no longer as effective in this craft as I thought I had been. It has taken much more out of me than what I could give or more accurately, what I was willing to give. Maybe, I was just tired. In general. Not of teaching, in particular. I don't know.

    Then I saw this video which brought tears to my eyes: http://youtu.be/UIun5xGK86g
 
    Did it change things? I still don't know.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

kurokuroatbp

http://kurokuroatbp.com/
Written by "TOE," someone I used to know at SHP as a teen-ager. Now, a diplomat posted abroad.

Monday, January 24, 2011

My Hands are Full

One hand, a handbag with 2 mobile phones. The other hand, folders with papers to check. One shoulder. tote bag with laptop inside and more personal papers to attend to. Right hand, insulated coffee mug. Left brain, reports that need to be written. Right brain, emotions that just have to be put on hold.

Most days, this is how you will see me as I get into my ride and later, walk the short distance to my office after I disembark. That picture of me is a clue on what I hope to do when I get to my place of work but most of the time, they remain as unfulfilled figments of my imagination. I seem to always forget that there are tons of other tasks that await my attention as soon as I get to sit at my desk. 

I like to think of myself as a successful multi-tasker, being able to muster the energy and resolve to accomplish all that is expected of me as a mother, wife, sibling, friend, teacher, administrator, colleague, church volunteer, etc. But lately, I know that many spheres of my life have suffered because of this illusion that I am Superwoman.

Today, with a headache that won't go away, I am trying to finish a task which was due over two weeks ago. I am debating with myself whether this should take precedence over a regular parish meeting which I have neglected to attend many times. Should I just ignore the message  my body is giving me that I try to do too much. Why, oh why do I have dilemmas like these?

Many people stop doing challenging things because of a fear of failure. I think with me it may just be the opposite - I try to be good at everything because I have a fear of mediocrity. But I realize now that by trying to do everything, I just might end up in that state.

So, I will find the time in the next few weeks to sort out my priorities. Out of obligation, I will discharge the duties which will be for the good of many. I will not allow barbs and thoughtless remarks to discourage me from doing my best. I will turn my back on situations which make me unhappy and instead move on to dreams that I can fulfill. In the long run, I will toss out those which will take me away from giving more time and attention to those I love and those who love me back! 


Friday, January 14, 2011

Romancing my Id

   As I get older, it seems that getting friendly with my Id has become less dangerous. It is not as threatening to my Ego as it used to be.I've noticed that not only am I less fearful about speaking my mind, I've also allowed my mind to speak in not so wholesome ways.

     I've allowed wicked thoughts to slip through the sturdy and unyielding barriers of yesteryears. For example, when I see people with very unattractive physical features, I think about descriptions that are definitely politically incorrect. People who fail to meet my expectations are berated with sometimes unkind words (silently, of course!) And... ehem, when I see very attractive men of every age, I imagine possible dalliances (Joke lang, T!) Then there's my ever-increasing temptation to butt in when overhearing conversations of strangers. I just have this need to correct errors, offer answers to their questions, and oh, just say anything to "enrich" what is going on!

     Yesterday, I stunned people in a fastfood after I told a distracted food server to pay attention to me. Everyone turned to my direction when I said that and I actually did not even feel embarrassed. With my sweetest smile, I explained that because he was multi-tasking while taking my order, he was getting it all wrong. I apologized, of course, saying that I was a teacher and thus, used to telling young people what to do. I told him the lesson from this was "Focus, focus, focus!" Good thing the young chap never erased that smile on his face all throughout the little scene we had!

      So I thought, "Ayan na, talagang nag take-over na ang Id ko." But then again, Freud whispered to me that I might be wrong on that. That last incident? OMG, that was probably my Superego still saying who's Boss!

       And so it seems my dear Id, while you may have found a comfortable, little spot in my thoughts and imagination, it may still be a while before you see regular action in my life! 

Sunday, November 14, 2010

My 2011 Rules

    In July 2003, I wrote some Life Rules. Today, I reviewed them, revised some, but still believe in most of them.
 
Here's my updated Life Rules:

Read a lot                                                              
Eat healthy & well 
Cook
Drink fruit shakes and herbal tea
Wink at kids                                                         
Make kids laugh
Put babies to sleep
Have dates with my husband
Have dates with my kids    
Pray more with my family                       
Watch sunsets
Paint sunsets
Take artsy photos
Light scented candles
Have plenty of massages
Write poetry
Keep a blog
Write serious stuff for publication
Speak good Filipino
Hug long-lost friends
Answer e-mail
Inspire others
Put bullies in their place
Take invigorating showers
Pamper with scented soaps & bodywash
Swim in the rain
Swim regularly                                      
Sing
Play the piano
Listen to classical music
Travel, travel, travel
Wake up to birds outside my window
Wake up to kisses
Sleep outdoors.
Use fresh white, cotton sheets
Wear pearls
Make jewelry
Shop in tiangges.
Dress for comfort
Avoid high heels.
Dress in understated elegance
Use the computer
Keep up with technology
Have long lunches with dear friends.
Cry my heart out when I need to
Laugh till my tummy hurts
Meet deadlines
Keep cool at work
Forgive myself
Share my blessings
Love unconditionally


Tuesday, August 31, 2010

On Bus Trips & Personal Space

Rode the San Agustin bus to Tagaytay last Saturday. Wanted to have one day all to myself before the family joined me a day later. That would give me time to finish all sorts of papers with deadlines I had already missed.

I caught the trip leaving the terminal a few minutes past 10 AM. The bus seemed road-worthy and the interiors were neat and clean. The thinly-cushioned seats covered in thick plastic were comfy even if a bit narrow for my generous behind. But that wasn't much of a problem as I had 3 empty seats all to myself. I settled in for what I imagined would be a pleasant and comfortable ride. By noontime, I should be taking lunch in Tagaytay, I predicted.

From Cubao to Roxas Blvd, the ride was uneventful. After that, the colorful balloons in my unrealistic mind started to pop one by one. I had to eventually give up the luxury of the 2 seats beside me. No problem, I thought, it's just less a little over an hour to my destination anyway. Of course I didn't anticipate the horrible traffic in Imus and Dasmarinas which kept us moving in a turtle-in-a-stupor pace. Again, that would have been tolerable if the bus didn't stop for any passenger that cared to squeeze his or way inside and stand in the aisle in the now very full bus. The ordeal lasted until fresh air started to stream inside the bus as it approached Silang. By 12:35, I got off the bus terminal and boarded a low-slung tricycle (in which I practically had to kneel to get into) that took me on a bumpy ride to DAP.

Almost 3 hours after I boarded the bus, I was finally at the front desk claiming my reservation. It would take another hour before I could finally rest in the comfort of a nice, big room which I had all to myself!

Which brings me to the point of this story... This trip brought me to the realization that my definition of personal space might be different from those of many. Might the dimensions of my personal space be much bigger than others, I wondered.

Even as a child, I have  always been in dread of crowds. I have never cherished being boxed in by a sea of humanity, of feeling the sweat of complete strangers, of being elbowed and stepped upon mindlessly by people.  I have been upset on airplanes when the limbs of seatmates have transgressed the boundaries set by armrests. So all the more was I a little flabbergasted that I seemed to be the only one who minded that we were packed shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee in that bus.
 
Why was I silently protesting in my seat?  Could it be due to the fact that a space normally adequate for a regular-sized Filipino woman was a bit too confining for my bigger-than-average frame and size? Or Is it because my upper middle class lifestyle has afforded me the luxury of traveling in comfort too often that I suffer when I have to travel sardine-style? Maybe both. I don't know,

In the meantime, I am imagining that sometime soon the bus companies plying the Cavite-Tagaytay-Batangas route will, in a flash of genius and inspiration, come up with Express buses to Tagaytay. They will charge much more than the P104 fare, of course, but if that means a speedier and less claustrophobic ride to  my fave destination, let it be! This personal space-challenged person can dream, can't she ?


The Shifting of Light

             I was seated on one of the wooden benches on DAP taking in this beautiful sight on a just-right cool day in Tagaytay when I noticed that the light on the lawn would change from minute to minute. First, the sun was bright and intense on the ground, then suddenly the light softened, and then the colors of the trees and grass would glow again. It was like someone up there was playfully folding and unfolding a giant umbrella over the area where I was. Looking up, I noticed a flurry of clouds move from the end of the sky farthest from me towards the direction over my head. Sometimes, the clouds took a lazy pace, taking their own sweet time to traverse the distance. But when I chose to pay close attention, up there was a spread of feathery clouds that seemed to be racing to get to a finish line.

               And that was when I realized how flimsy-looking clouds can reduce the intensity of the light and heat of the sun. Even for a fleeting moment, that which signified Life seemed to have surrendered its power to the seemingly weightless combination of water and air. It was a free-form dance of nature's elements which delighted my senses at that moment and rekindled memories of Clouds in my life!

              There have been friends who have provided me shade when the Sun had almost burned holes in my heart. They have banished fears and soothed my pain, even if just for a while. They are now gone from my life but were there when it mattered.

            I guess that I too have trekked through the skies to give friends respite from the heat. It would have made me happy to stay. But clouds can only obey the wind that urges them to move on. To where they will matter.

              

   

Sunday, June 20, 2010

A child of solitude

"A creation of importance can only be produced when its author isolates himself, it is a child of solitude." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

     I've never feared being by myself. Even as a child. Or at least I'm good at convincing myself that it's alright to be apart from people. At least some of the time.

      Last year, I spent many days either in a a hotel or convent room in Tagaytay, by myself,  trying to meet deadlines. Those days have produced research reports or drafts for academic requirements.  Not exactly brilliant, earth-shaking outputs but one or two of them will lead me a step closer to a still unfulfilled dream.

       But those days of isolation have produced something more valuable. I have had the luxury of looking deep into myself. Unencumbered by distractions of noise and senseless chatter, I have started conversations with myself, coming up with different results. On more than one occasion, they have produced bouts of painful sobbing and torrents of tears. Many times, the exchanges see no resolution. But most often, I smile because of rather acceptable endings.

       Yes, indeed, it is good being a child of solitude!

      

      

      
      

    

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Gregg Shoes

    The topics of our conversation this morning ran from SM Residences to Shoemart of our yesteryears and then to Gregg shoes. Everyone wore them in elementary and high school. Specifically, boys shoes from Gregg's. And when I say everybody, that included even the maarteng colegialas from our convent school.

     I had to wear them every year until in my sophmore year in high school when  I decided I had had enough of them. How I envied some of my classmates who wore girl shoes. And so I pleaded with my mother to get me those kind when we had the annual trooping to the shoe stores before classes opened in June.

     How proud and happy I was with my black patent mary janes!  Theye made me feel so feminine. But alas, after wearing them out only after 2 months or so, I realized the folly of my desire. What a waste of my parents' hard-earned money, I thought.  I also realized how wise and practical my mom (and other moms of my generation) was for choosing to make us wear Gregg (also Ang Tibay) shoes over flimsy girl shoes. It's a lesson that has stuck in my mind through the years such that I find it very difficult even now to buy whimsical shoes. They always have to be something that I can use often and will last me a while or should in a neutral color that will easily match any outfit.

     But only recently has it dawned upon me that there was something else I should have seen in that experience. That my usually frugal mother let me get my way even if it she probably knew that it was not a practical thing to do must mean something. Maybe it was a reward for the child who never asked for much? Or maybe it was an acknowledgement of her trust in my ability to make mature choices? Or maybe just to teach me a lesson on the whys and wherefores of practical shoe-buying and possible pitfalls you get into when you don't believe what your mother says? I don't know.

     Just now,  I realized that that incident must have shaped my way of dealing with persistent demands from my children to do something I am particularly against. In sheer exasperation, sometimes I give in even if I can already predict the sad ending.They have had their share of mary janes in their lives. But always, I believe these lessons have made them into courageous persons who will not be afraid to venture into the untrodden. If they get lost or fail, they will get up and dust themselves off. And then they will write blog entries extolling the virtues of their mother who allowed them to make mistakes so that they would know why they shouldn't make them again. (Hehehe!)

Do they still sell Gregg shoes?

Monday, May 31, 2010

Why I'm "Deadma"

From Stephen Kappe:

Let's say that someone says something critical or harsh about you and you feel bad because of it. Or maybe you get angry. You then make the arrangement to face them and correct the situation. And if a simple discussion with them rectifies the situation, all well and good. But maybe you want to do more than this. Maybe you even take them to court if it is serious enough. Once you do this and if you win, you feel vindicated, having protected your honor. Maybe the person does indeed deserve a lesson. However, if you know yourself truly, that is more important than to care how others see you. When you are established in your true inner identity and connected to your real Self, you will care little about defending your honor or how others perceive you or what they may say. You will go on with your life, content with who you are and will care little about how others understand you, especially if they do not care enough to really get to know you anyway. Thus, you won't lose your state of happiness just because someone else has said something bad about you. This is the importance of being connected with your true identity and inner Self. This is what we need to do.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

"Where God is"


"God is manifest in the ordinary, in the actual, in the daily, in the now, in the concrete incarnations of life."

... — from Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality



        During Mass yesterday, feeling absolutely low, some kids from Catechism class were asked to sit with me. The tears just had to stop. At the end of the mass, one 5-year-old even managed to kick my little toe. Aaaw! Bleeding, how could I not concentrate on my physical pain instead of the one in my heart? Strange ways God picks to make one forget desperation, even for a while!

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Good girls finish first, Ugly ducklings have more fun!

(Inspired by Chei and written in October 2005)

A rationalization in the first degree! For what I hope will be my reward for not putting physical attractiveness in the top of my list on how to have a meaningful life.

But let's face it. Those who have external cutaneous superiority reap all the advantages in this world. Psychological studies attest to this. And I would be a traitor to my profession if I didn't agree with this assertion. Empirical data shows that they get higher grades. They get better jobs. They get higher pay. They can bully us and get away with it. They have someone else always do the dirty jobs for them. Etc, etc, etc!!!!!!!!!

Until all the tinsel lose their sparkle! Until the foundation can no longer hide the spots and the hairpieces, what is no longer there. Until the fat cells take over their worlds. Until people who were bitched upon learn to bitch back.

But those of us who chose to build our self-esteem on our talents and earned our friendships by being nice-nice (as Al put it), will always have what we rightfully deserve. Our glow will come from pride at what we have accomplished with hard work. Even when we're doddering at 80, there will always be someone to hold our hand. We will ignore the wrinkles at the corners of our mouth because it will be the smiles and laughter that caused them that we will remember.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

All it takes is one

Actually it only takes a minute and costs a peso... to let someone know he or she is important enough to merit your attention. Sending a reply to a message or calling back at the soonest possible time is a measure of one's Courtesy Quotient.  Sure it may be a nuisance sometimes, getting in the way of more urgent things, but it may mean giving someone peace of mind, a reassuring hug in the face of uncertainty. Yes, it only takes a thoughtful heart to do this!


Wednesday, January 20, 2010

All I wanted was a friend. Period.

Reading the blog entry of a former student, Pau Z., I was reminded of a time I longed for a friend. Her criteria detailed what she needed and why she needed them. On top of her list was her need for human warmth. The reason? "Ang lamig kasi eh...Wahahahaha."  Then there was my favorite - "Kelangan ko din ng kakampi! Lalo na pag tama ako. Pero gusto ko din nang babatukan ako pag mali ako, pero kakampihan pa rin ako. Haha!"

I have had friends from all ages, beliefs, and walks of life. Some of my friendships had been formed only because I chose to ignore some unwritten societal rules. I am grateful for friends who have been in my life since forever. I have grieved over but have recovered from some who have chosen to leave without a word. At my age, I thought having a constant, ever-by-my-side friend shouldn't matter anymore because one learns to be self-sufficient for most needs, even emotional ones.

But then I realized that I missed having someone listen to my insane ideas and not think of them as potential material for the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of DIsorders (DSM). When I felt all ugly inside and wanted to draw blood, I realized how hard it was to to thrash the enemy all by myself. But mostly, I just wanted someone to hang out with so we could banter over "wala lang" matters.

With that aura encircling me, someone from long ago resurfaced in my life. Way back when I was young and innocent, he thought there could be a romantic possibility between the two us. As far as I was concerned, that possibility could only be described as remote. He had made his presence felt a few times in the last few years and it was always in the guise of renewing friendships. Although reminiscing about his feelings in the past occupied much of what he talked about on occasions that we met, my need for someone to fulfill the criteria above seemed louder than the ringing of warning bells. I quelled my reluctance by constantly reminding him about the grounds on which this relationship stood.

Assured that the terms of our friendship were well understood, I lost all qualms about hanging out with him a couple of times. But this proved to be one more life-changing mistake for me. What for me was just an innocent (see, there's still that word!) coffee chit-chat after a stressful day looked like a signal for him to venture once again beyond friendship. This I realized after getting into a heated discussion with him over his frank declarations of affection and attempts to display this. He was upset that I would not respect his feelings for me and could not understand why I thought they had no place in our so-called friendship .

It was hard to accept that I had been naive to believe that the rules I lived by could not be appreciated by all. Close, heterosexual friendships, while a significant part of me since my youth, were not default mode for most people. So it seems that my agreeing to hang out with him had been misunderstood as whatever he thought it was (but was not)!

I have not spoken with him since he hurled insulting remarks at me. Attempts from him to reconnect have been foiled by this now wiser woman. I'm guessing he will never change, anyway.

Have I found the friend I was seeking? Wala pa rin. But looking at my list once again,  I thought to myself, "Kaya namang gawin lahat ito ng asawa ko ah. Ba't ba ako naghahanap pa ng ibang kaibigan? But then again, after sharing this realization with some people, we came to the conclusion that ... Iba pa rin ang asawa sa kaibigan! 

And so the search continues ...



 




 

Saturday, January 9, 2010

A case for formal education

    The other day, as I am wont to do as a psychologist, I wondered about Andal Ampatuan Jr. - what kind of person he was, on what values he was raised on, and how much education he got. Answers to these questions might put to rest two other questions which kept on being replayed in mind: "How could he do the things eyewitnesses said he did to other people?" and "How did he and his collaborators think they could get away with it?"

    As if in response to my curiousity, a day or two later, the newspaper had an  article which described the kind of education he got. He was a freshman high school drop-out from a Catholic school. Even more revealing to me that his own father only got to Grade 4. Maybe 

Is man really born evil? Like a being not created in the likeness of a God. Do we need to be molded into beings who can live harmoniously with his or her fellow human being? Do we need need to master rules to foster order. Education to my biased teacher's mind humanizes you. Or reminds you what it means to be human.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Something to think about

From Maria's diary in "Eleven Minutes"

Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colorful, marvelous feathers. In short, he was a creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him.


One day, a woman saw the bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding,her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her.and the two travelled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.
But then she thought: He might want to visit far off mountains! And she was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird's ability to fly. And she felt alone. And she thought: "I'm going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again."

The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap and was put in a cage.
She looked at the bird everyday. There he was, the object of his passion, and she showed him to her friends, who said: "Now you have everything you could possibly want." However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning out his cage.

One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds. If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realized that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body. Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and Death came knocking at her door.

"Why have you come?" she asked Death. "So you can fly once more with him across the sky," Death replied. "If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again."

Sunday, November 29, 2009

I should remember this

Fear Is So Yesterday

Fear is always counseling you against the perils of 'now' because of something that happened 'once before'.



--Robert Holden


Yesterday might be a nice place to visit, but only fear wants to live there. The next time fear calls out to you, Joanne, face it squarely and remind it gently that you no longer choose to live in the past and it can't live in the present. Then bless it and let it go.

May you always be aware that fear needs the past to survive.

And may you always be aware that you are loved beyond measure and a cherished blessing to me.

Until tomorrow,

May your day be filled
with all things good,