Surviving Christmas (Part2)

After 3 years...
3 years ago, I spent my very first Christmas alone. It wasn't that hard actually for me for the thought of being alone and being missed by my family on the holiday meal excites me before. No nostalgia at all. My second Christmas alone was almost the same with the first. The only difference was, I felt more grown up, I was getting used to this kind of life... work, work and work, and holidays doesn't mean a break. I thought I'm already used to this Christmas routine – working, forgetting the true spirit of Christmas, forgetting the big family celebration, I thought that a phone call was not that bad, I thought nostalgia was so far from my senses.
Then my third Christmas alone came... only this time, it is much colder.
To wrap up the whole year, I could say that I've done well with my job. Accelerated, promoted in so many ways but with every success comes a waterloo for my soul.
I seldom go to church anymore thinking that through my work, I'm doing my service (still) to God. That through caring for the sick people, I thought I'm caring for my soul as well. I tried so many times to convince myself that I'm right. My mind tells me I'm right but my heart knows I'm wrong. My attitude speaks my grubby soul. I'm no longer that Christian that I'm used to. I hate to admit it but it is true. I run out of patience easily, I always lose my temper, I can no longer appreciate simple things in life... this was not me... and I know the reason why.... it is because I wander away from my Shepherd. I am now the enemy of my own self. As I have quoted before... my days are full, but my life is empty.
This year, my brother spent his holidays with his business partners in New York leaving my parents spent the holidays all alone at home, and since this time I was not the only one who was not there to celebrate, the overwhelming absence of their two children is very much present. They never argue about it but I know I'm hurting them... and this time... I feel their pain. This time, nostalgia fills my senses. this is the price I pay for not knowing the right thing to prioritize. I'm so scared to lose without having a fall-back, but the cornerstone that I build for myself and the same thing I thought would cradle me became an abyss.
I know only God can help me now... but how? I can no longer hear His voice for I've wandered far enough not to hear His voice again.
“missing the me from You You gave to me, don't like the one I have created today...”

Coming Soon...


Surviving Christmas (Part 2)

Destruction Means FOCUS

It was a beautiful day. I was with God in a paradise. The meadow was so green ad the flowers bloom in their brightest colors. God was holding my hand…

Then He told me – “my child, focus.”

I looked away…

He again told me to focus…
But I was mesmerized by the beauty of the paradise.
“My child, focus.”

I did not listen.

So He let go of my hand. I did not care…
Not until He destroyed the whole paradise.
It became dark, gloomy, and savage in the most horrible way.

That was then I turned to Him.
I looked at Him… He reached out for my hand, smiled and said… “I have to destroy the paradise so that you can focus one”

I woke up in the middle of the day and realized that… destruction means FOCUS.

...Through A Glass But Darkly

(An article about the Good and the Great)

Not everyone who puts a shit on you is your enemy. In every WHOLE story there is always what you call PARTS. There is HIS part, HER part, YOUR part, the OTHERS’ part. We cannot judge the whole story by just looking at one part; you’ve got to see the whole. You’ve got to hear all the sides and not just the right and/or the left side, but you have to hear all the different corners to make the story whole and without a hole, concrete without any room for errors and fallacies.



Then the critical phase begins. It is when the writer deals with his/her judgments and finally writes about it. The writer is responsible to whatever he/she writes about because after his/her own thorough studies regarding a certain situation, it is his/her judgments that he/she writes about. Good critics will discover soon what is hidden behind an article that a certain writer wrote; the errors, the myths, the fiction. But before a certain good critic could discover such discrepancies, the readers had already changed their lives because of the influence of that certain article that they have just read. If a certain politician’s decision was greatly influenced by a certain article, the whole nation is at stake – right?


“You should know who you are writing FOR.” – says Stephen Glass in the movie “Shattered Glass”, a tale about a young journalist on the verge of stardom. As he travels through the road of success, almost tangible; lies were told in the (most) sincerest means (that is how I describe it). But, was there another side behind the lies the eyes could see?



The end NEVER justifies the means but the mean justifies the means… that is what I’ve always believed. Upon scrutinizing the film, there was a part there that struck me the most and left me thinking over and over until I finally grabbed my pen and paper and wrote this stuff. It is the part when Stephen glass was inside his former classroom and was giving a lifetime testimony for young, aspiring journalism students, he said – “there are good editors, there are bad editors, there are both. My hope for you though, is that, once… at least once, you’ll get truly a great one. A great editor defends his writers against anyone. He stands up and fights for you… have that kind of courage.”



I tried to let that line sink into my brain cells right after watching the film, and I realized that Stephen Glass have mistaken the difference between a GOOD editor and a GREAT editor. I tried to dig in a little deeper on my own judgments and realized that a GOOD editor defends his writers but a GREAT editor defends the PAPER even to the very writer itself. A good editor defends his writers but do not realize that his writers are capable of defending their own selves when their articles are being attacked by critics. A great editor, however, knows what he should defend – that is the PAPER. A great editor realizes that the paper cannot defend itself when a bad writer attacks. A great editor knows the importance of the Paper, he knows that the Paper is a mightier sword than any ammunition; hence, he knows that it should be taken cared of by NOT just a GOOD editor BUT a GREAT editor.



A mask of hostility is sometimes, or most of the time worn to defend others. Chuck, the EIC of The Republic (from the movie “Shattered Glass”) wore that mask to defend his writers. A good editor defends his writers even when the price is his own good reputation, even if the price is to make him look like the villain. But the good editor became the great editor when time made him realize that the Paper is the one he should defend.



Writing is NOT just about getting your name on the front page… it is a RESPONSIBILTY.

Hope to the Fear of the Unknown

Life is a story of irony; twisted like a pretzel knot, bitter like a dark chocolate, complicated like a labyrinth… and death is simply the destination. But that is actually the other irony of reality. Most of the time, the common lessons in life that we thought we already knew, were also the ones we oftentimes, tend to forget. To live life is not about preparing for death. The sad ironic reality is that, oftentimes, people become so busy preparing for their death that they forgot that they have a life to live. Death may come anytime, and I believe that it is such a blessing that we do not know exactly what the future holds and we do not know exactly the time and date of our death so that we could live our lives with a hope that there is still tomorrow and not fearing that you have but a small period of time on earth. I believe that God designed our future to be unknown for us because He wants us to live with hope and not in fear in every waking day. Think about it, isn't it such a nightmare to live while counting every minute that pass you by because you know exactly the hour of your death – right?... it is like you are not yet dead but every minute that pass you by kills you…

Sometimes… ignorance is really a bliss. 

It is an irony of reality that death is a proof that we once lived because no one dies without living first. Death is not something to be scared of or to be prepared for. 

The hidden irony is that we have to live life like there’s no tomorrow and hope for life like there is always a bright tomorrow. 

Life is an open road and death is the destination. The most important part is not about reaching the destination because we will all reach that eventually. It is about the things you will see, hear, feel and learn on the road while you journey towards your destiny – death. The ironic truth is that, we always thought that death is such a sad tragic reality; hence we forgot that life is also a reality… only sweeter.

Dark Chocolates... Tastes Good Even Bitter

Something more painful than heartache is when you lose your faith. It is when you stopped believing on just about everything. And when that happens, you will lose your ground and will become a lame. The fact here is, in order to remain standing, you got to have something to believe in, you got to have something solid to stand on for you can never stand when you’re floating.



In the act of losing my frail faith to the One Most High, I betrayed my destiny here on earth, I betrayed my mission in life, I betrayed my personal legend as a being. My body went on living but my soul is dead… and I keep on convincing myself that every man is born to betray his own destiny. I think I believe that… I think I want to believe that… or maybe I don’t believe anything anymore.



But in the midst of this poignant journey of my dying faith… I remember that unforgettable conversation that left a mark on my being. The memory of that moment that echoes to my soul and brings me back to the time when I was still secured… or at least I felt that way before. The sole conversation with an atheist – a firm non-believer of the almighty… is the same person who made my faith stronger.


Those words that from time to time I hear them echoing inside my ear and that sound travels to my heart – “it doesn’t matter whether God really exist or not, you just have to believe in Him because that belief will keep you warm in your darkest hours.”



I never dared to doubt that infamous quote. And with my struggling faith, Him who is faithful led me back to the path of my born destiny.



I’m afraid to take a step forward but there is no more reason to stay and it is logically and rationally wrong to go back. Something (a kind of force) is pushing me from behind to step forward… not knowing what the future holds.



I guess that is something to be thankful for… not knowing what will come to pass is a blessing. At least you don’t have to worry for the rest of the moments till you finally face the tragedy… and at least you can live each moment full of hope.

Cruel Change

Once upon a time there was a girl who dreamed to change the world...


So she went out there believing that she could really change the world...



Then she met an old lady...
The old lady asked her what is she doing here on earth...
She told the lady... "I want to change the world... and I know I can... I know I will."


The lady smiled and said... " My child be careful... the world is never really a safe place."
The girl smiled back then walked away.




Time goes by...


Time goes by and by...


The girl who dared to change the world changed.


She thought she could change the world... but it is the world that changed her.


Fin.

Gravity

Sometimes I wanted to hate gravity because it pulls everything down, like it prevents everything to fly. You jump… you fall… because of gravity. If you fall, you get hurt or even die. We can have all the reasons in the world to hate it.



But then I asked myself… how is it to be able to fly for eternity and you can never rest your feet?… because there is no gravity. It would be very, very tiring – right? It is like the thought of flying but the truth is… you’re just floating without a ground to stand on – so tiring.



There is a lesson in gravity. A lesson why there is and why there should be gravity. It is the reason why we fall, we get hurt, and we die. But it is also the same reason why we could finally rest our tired feet ever wanting to touch the ground. The reason why we could finally settle down our whole body and be able to maintain our balance.



Flying is great… floating is fine, but falling and finally reaching the ground is the feeling that only the gravity at the center of the earth could make you feel. I believe it is strangely awesome.



Maybe that is the reason why the world is round and not flat… so that the gravity could be placed at the center of the earth, because if it is flat… then it would be just under. But since the earth is round, gravity is placed at the center … gravity is the reason why we fall… it is at the center. Love is the reason why we fall… maybe because it is at our center.



The truth is… gravity NEVER pulls us down… it pulls us TOWARDS THE CENTER… to finally gain our balance… to finally know that we are at rest even though the world continues to rotate and revolve tiringly around us.


Let the gravity work.

The Nebula

Life in my eyes is all about stories. Stories told, stories that had happened once upon a time, stories to be told, stories about to happen, stories that could have happened but never was and will never will.



Life in my eyes is a billion reflections of different stories meant to become one story.



Life touched by a story could become bitter then sweet, then tasteless. It is like the taste of mint on your tongue, you don’t really know what it tastes like. It is cool but irritatingly hot, it is sweet but a little spicy- minty… right? But you’re loving it, and for all you know it’s taste is gone… and your tongue becomes tasteless.



Life is a story behind a dedication – a bitter yet sincerely, profoundly meaningless means. A dedication – it is your reason, your window into beauty… on why there is what you call “beauty”. It is like an echo, it is not the genuine sound but just the continuous strings of intangible beginning of the genuine sound.



Life is an echo of felicity that disappears in a great chasm of poignancy, an occasional burst of laughter that could be plotted above a graph of an interminable wail of misery, like a terrible giggle in the midst of your horrible forced march to death in hell. It is a single skip of bliss.



If I had a story to tell about once upon a time on earth, is a story of a nebula.



A nebula – it is a cloud of gas, blurry, gloomy, but it is where stars are born. Sometimes, the gas in the nebula is remnants of a supernova.



A supernova – it is a star that dies and fades away for a reason. It leaves the sky empty in a particularly spectacular way of falling to make someone else’s wish come true. But the truth behind a wish coming true is another story of a violent fashion of emptiness.



Each of us is a nebula.



Once upon a time on earth, there was a girl and she had a supernova. But her supernova, for a certain reason fell out from her sky to make someone else’s wish come true. The one side of the story was sweet and happy because it was a wish coming true from a falling star. But the other side, the side of that girl who lived once upon a time on earth was another story, a sad, tragic story of a sky being emptied for eternity. A sky empty for that was once a space occupied by a supernova, but now it’s gone… forever.



So the remnants of the supernova became a cloud of gas. Blurry, ugly, gloomy and full of poignancy… it became a nebula. But as the cliché goes… a tale to end is another tale to begin.




Then there was a nebula where another star is born… and hoping to become the next supernova.



Your story….
It is easy to find…
Because it is the only one like it.



The End. ☺

Echo Of Your Breath

Was it a dream though I’m not asleep?
The melodious thunder so to speak
And I swear, the feeling was so wonderful indeed
When I heard my name from the echo of your breath.

Eternal Sunshine

What if there is no forgetting and there is no remembrance either… just the moment as it is?


I don’t know exactly what to feel about the movie (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). I wanted to get mad about the “why’s” but the madness did not stay that long… it never last that long because the reason is enough not to stay angry about it.



I don’t know exactly where we would be without our memories. I mean, memories are strong, so strong that it could make time still while the earth continues to rotate. Memories are stronger than changes, it is as strong as love and as infinite as time. Where would we be without it?



It is the architect of our being, the art of our emotions, the source of the “why” we smile, cry and get angry. It was once our life, it was once our present, it was before even before our future.. to relive it is not to live with the past but to be able to face the present and to be able to deal with the future. And I could barely imagine the poignant realization of taking it away from you. It is like you were not been born at all, you just suddenly existed as you are, no past… no memories… no beginnings.


But who are we without our past? And even if we have… how will we know it without our memory?



My heart was moved at the part (of the movie) when Joel and Clementine was at the beach, it was night and they both know that when the morning comes, their memories about each other will all be gone, then Clementine asked Joel – “So what will we do now?” then Joel paused for a while and said – “enjoy the moment.”


The way he said it was so damn frustrating, it was like… he knows it will be gone forever and he wanted it so much to seize but he knows that it is inevitable, like all the forces of nature and the universe conspired together to take it all away.


Then I ponder for a moment and asked sincerely… why do beautiful things end so soon and more painful than that… sometimes it ends even before it starts to happen.


Will there be an eternal sunshine if you have a spotless mind?

beautiful crap

The idle moments of the day. It is when I just lay my back on my bed and my poetic mind wander around on every sketches of your face and all I could write about are just adjectives about an angel.


The sun shines and sets on your face and the picture is the portrait of a thousand sunsets… like the million rays of the sun that sums up the light of the day.


Each night I wish upon a star, and then there you are… my shooting star. You are supposed to make my wish come true but I don’t want you to fall because if you fall, you will leave my sky empty forever. But then, if you fall… please land in my arms safely.



The poetic distance, the yonder dreams kept me awake, but just a glimpse of your face makes me want to fall asleep and never again wake up.



It is the reality that bites us then swallows us up until we are finely digested inside the monster’s belly. But if you’re asking me why am I still betting my last penny? … well, it is like in the lottery where in you have lost everything you have in your pocket but still you bet again even the very last penny for your fare home… no! It’s not because of money… but it’s because of HOPE… that tiny sledge of adrenaline that crosses your veins just right before you check the winning numbers. That is HOPE. That tiny speck of hope that you are grasping that MAYBE this time you will win.


It is not bad… but neither it is good.



So here I go again… the supreme epitome of an optimist who believes that the world is so beautiful and really believes in it up to last minute it is proven a crap. Then smiles disappointedly and says it is for the best cause there is a reason.


So how optimistic is that?


How universal is the water? Those 2 atoms of hydrogen and 1 molecule of oxygen sums up the universal solvent. But the ultimate riddle is… “waters cannot quench it and neither flood can drown it.”

Resurgence

The longest hiatus so far in my journal history, and right now, I’m finding it hard to return. So I guess there goes the lesson… if you can’t go back… then move forward. But I have to slow down because there is a pit of emptiness ahead. The truth here is… I’m messing up my entire present for my future… so how does it sound???


So I wake up each day reminding myself that I have to face the future like I face today like I’ve always done in the past. In the end… it sums up my life.


I’ve got a lot of ideas spinning at the back of my mind but the moment I grab my pen, they all start to slip away so fast that I have to drop my pen again.


Sometimes, you have all the reasons in the world compared to one irrational reason, but still, that one irrational reason makes all the reasons in the world without a sense. Maybe because “RIGHT” never means “HAPPINESS”. And even if you look at the dictionary, you will find out that I’m right… that the word “RIGHT” is not synonymous with ‘HAPPINESS”.



So the irony of life goes on. The fire teaches us about water and death teaches us about life. And the things that we’ve always believed in could easily become a piece of crap. It is like believing in the setting of the sun when the truth is… the sun never sets… it is the earth that rotates.


Sometimes I wonder, if I ever follow the sun… will I ever meet the night?...


The night is dark…
The sun is bright…
My shooting star made my wish come true…
But it left my sky… EMPTY.

The Path

I ran away... and now I'm back... but everything is still the same... the same path that leads me... towards your FACE.

Morayta Bridge Is Falling Down

… a promise or a dare, I will jump if I knew you will catch me. But you were floating when I was falling. The pain is hurting but a glimpse of your face takes it all away. How could something that hurts you really badly could make you happy?... but you do. The earth rotates so thus the sun sets. The same time of the day the bridge fell down… twice already… but I know it will fall again.

Yes, I know that there’s what we call “once in a lifetime” but I also believe in the concept of “another chance” … and “last chance” .

“…Morayta bridge is falling down, falling down.
Morayta Bridge is falling down… my fair-y tale.”

LINGER

People miss happiness not because they never found it but because they never slow down to enjoy it.


Sometimes we want to finish everything in a very short period of time and so we end up getting disappointed NOT with the result of our accomplishments but of what we missed in the making of it.

Is it alright to be scared about the way you live your life?... because I do.

Seventh Month

Here I go again, I promised myself I wouldn't think of you today

It's been seven months and counting

You've moved onI still feel exactly the same.

It's just the that everywhere I go

All the buildings know your name like...

Photographs and memories of love.

Steel and granite reminders

The city calls your name and I can't move on

092808

Beautiful Pain

This is a story of a girl... a beautiful girl. She is an epitome of beauty. Girls would always wanted to be like her, and guys think she is ideal. And for everyone.. she is the FANTASY.


But what is sad about her story is that...


People don't want to live in their fantasies. They bite whatever reality gives to them. So she is alone and lonely and remained unloved.

Adored, admired... but never loved.

She feels helpless with the situation for she can never control the minds of other people... nor convince them, actually.


So to everyone... she is the fantasy... so to speak.

Fantasy is a beautiful world...

But very painful... too.

www.041208.com

(MaRk DOT DaY)

“.. one day… someday is today.’


I was just thinking of something that could eventually happen soon… but I never thought that that “soon” would mean “NOW”.


And that’s when I realized that just when you thought you are prepared enough… when it is right there in front of your eyes… everything is different and most likely… you’ll mess up.

Well maybe I messed up that day… but I really have no regrets because even though that was a tragedy… at least I would never have to ask myself those bitter and painful words – “WHAT IF?”
… because that one day… someday… happened that day.
Mark Dot Day
www.041208.com
P.S. I had an interview with an atheist the other day and it ended up pretty ridiculous owing to his last sentence… “Who are you (referring to me)… God’s lawyer? Ok! God is acquitted this time but I will file another case.

Well it is my pleasure to be called a God’s lawyer if that’s what they think of me, though.

The Minty Story

The irony in me is that...

I am the early bird who never catches a worm.

I write about other people’s lives…

I know their stories…

But the sad part is…

I can’t even write my own story…

Cause I don’t even know mine…

And the worst… maybe I don’t really have one.

The Other Woman

Prologue:

This is NOT MY STORY… just in case you might want to ask who owns this story… well, it is NOT mine. Period.


So how did I get this whole story?...


It was in the early spring. The sun shines and sets in different horizon in a day but with the same crimson hue. The sky is a blue canvas with sketches of huge and tiny white clouds. The weather is warm, the day is bright. The leaves fall in orange and red hue and the flowers bloom in yellow.


It was a day in an early spring. It was my day-off. Off from the whole scenario of the hospital day-to-day routine where everyone lives and dies in your presence, in your sight, in your palms.


I woke up that day, headed my way to the shower, dressed up and went to the nearby coffee shop with a few bucks (just decent enough to pay food bills) and my handy pen and notebook. I was planning to write something about people who often hang out at coffee shops and have their petty conversations about their problems. How and why people actually trade their time for tea and sympathy when the truth is… they could simply stay in their bedrooms and access God for His guidance rather than trusting in the words of their fellows who could not even practice what they preach.



I started to sip on my mocha frap while my pen and my notebook was annoyingly waiting there on top of my table for me to write something.


Then a conspiracy from the universe happened here on earth.


A woman in her mid-20’s stood in front of me and asked if she could share with my table. I smiled and said – “Its okey.”


She was obviously faking her smile as she stirs her espresso. Then out of the blue, she asked me – “You know kid, what’s in my shoe?”.

I was surprised by her question; I giggled a little to release some tensions and said – ‘Nope! …So what’s in there?” .

She laughed and said – “Walk in my shoes…that is the only way to know what is in there. To know someone… you have to walk in his shoes… you have to walk with his shoes.”


I simply smiled.




Part I: Her Shoes

“You know kid, I may only be a little older than you but I know twice as much as you do. You believe in fairytales? Of the wicked witches? Then I tell you, in real life, there are what you call wicked bitches who will try to bewitch your prince until they are under her spell and no one knows exactly how to break the curse… you know what I mean?... No?!... You don’t?!... huh! You don’t understand my little one. I am one of those wicked bitches. But the only sin I’m guilty with is that I’ve fallen in love to a man who belonged to another princess. If loving is a sin, then… should I hate? I’m not so sure about what God is telling me. I’m over hearing His voice with my throbbing heart. A part of me wants to give him up because it is rationally and logically the right thing to do, but on the edges of my brain, something tells me – what if?... what if I fight for him for just a little bit more, what if… he’ll be mine. What if this is just a test from above to know just how much I’m willing to give up for him and how much my heart could endure in the losing battle. It is a dilemma between obeying what is right and being kind enough to hurt. To be honest to hurt or to lie for the most sincere reason. To fight in the midst of not knowing if the one you’re fighting for is at your side or worst… the one you’re fighting for is the one you’re fighting with. I see love in there… I might be the prophecy… I might be the tongue… I might be the knowledge… then I shall fail, I shall cease, I shall vanish away. Maybe my soul-purpose is to make them stronger for one another. Maybe I was destined to be the tester of faith… of their faithfulness for each other, and I know I could choose on what to do… but the truth is… I really don’t have a choice… I don’t have any options. Like Judas… did Judas really had a choice then when he kissed and betrayed Jesus? Oh! Come on! If he did not do that, the prophecy will fail. He just fulfilled his destiny. He should have gotten his reward for doing it good. Being the villain for the noblest reason. Then I guess I’m more of like that… People judge me because they think so rational and so logical. The simple truth here is that, people judge so superficial. They never dig in to your soul. They never try to wear your shoes and walk with it in the same soles with yours. They judge you when the truth is… they don’t even know your past, they don’t know you plans for the future, and they don’t know what’s going on in your life right now. They think they know everything… but they don’t have an idea. Most of the talks about you are just their imaginations, the character of who they want you to be inside their brain… like they have one. Huh! They don’t know that aside from some highlights of your grumpy road, you actually had a very pathetic life. And to add an insult to that “coincidental” injury, they’ll just pop-up on you way to add another highlight on you… but that won’t mean they’ll gonna put you on the spotlight… their motives are simply as dark and wicked as their souls… and that is to add another bitter shadow on you.”


Part II: Speechless


I was surprised by the sudden outburst of her emotions and filthy noble confession. The music suddenly blared around the coffee shop –

“And I don't want the world to see me…'Cause I don't think that they'd understand, when everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am…”


Part III: Souls & Soles


I smiled and said – “You don’t have to lend your shoes to other people anymore just for them to walk in it… to walk with it…”

She asked – “Why?”

I smiled and walked away carrying my pen and notebook.


Epilogue:

Quoted from the song “DESPERADO”

“Now it seems to me, some fine things have been laid upon your table but you only want the ones that you can't get…”



FIN.

That Bend oN tHE rOAD

“God is always telling us his divine plans”. The truth is, most of the time, we are overwhelmed by the power of silence not because there is no sound, but because we are listening too hard enough that we can no longer bear it. Sometimes we cannot hear His voice because we are listening too hard and that makes it hard for us to distinguish His voice from other noises around.

Sometimes, what seemingly wrong at the moment could be right in the end. God is the only one who knows what is there beyond the bent of the road. We don’t see it… but knowing that God is faithful enough in giving us the best… rest assured that everything will be alright. It is scary not knowing what is in there when you reach it… but “even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil for God is with us.”

Just trust and obey… and God will make a way.

Soon, I’ll have my story to share. =)

We don't need to understand God all the time... and in His hours of silence... He has answers.

Let The Music Heal Your Soul

"...let the music heal you soul,

...let the music take control."

I saw the night sky with the moon almost full and the stars are like silver speckles on a charcoal canvas… but…



I’ve been mad all day… or should I say… I’ve been mad since I can’t remember.
I don’t know where this inert angst came from, all I know is that it has been lurking around my soul for quite sometime now and it’s shading me black. All colors from red to grey are all turning black and no way I could see a spot of white within my vexed soul.



So I listen to the songs I’ve been yearning to hear… those music that could bring me back in time when I could still remember how it is to be happy.
I pour my soul to those symphonies – poignant but sweet.
I let my heart out to my best friend – my old guitar who has been there for me through the years.


I let the music heal my soul.

Little Mantra

I’ll say a little prayer for you... today...

Coz its your day...

Hap pybir thd ay!!!

Desperado

“...Oh, you're a hard one, I know that you got your reasons, 

These things that are pleasing you can hurt you somehow.”
(Desperado)                             

The hidden truth is…

We’re not scared of the dark…

But of what is in it.

We’re not afraid of heights…

But of falling.

We’re not afraid of people…

But of rejection.

We’re not afraid to love…

But of not being loved back.

We’re not afraid of trying again…

But of getting hurt for the same old reason.

We’re not happy in lies…

We’re just scared of the truth.

Open Sesame

If it not for that boy next door… I would have stayed outside enduring the freezing cold of the early rainy season of the year.

Thanks to him….

Truly… sometimes, angels could be so busy that God uses ordinary people to help other people.

Empty Mantra

They say – prayer is the best weapon…

I had nothing against prayer… in fact it is even my habit…

But… just a little but…

If it’s the best weapon… could it kill destiny?

Could it change the mind of God?

Could it make things happen even when it is not supposed to happen?

Could it mean what is not meant to be?

Could it pass the will of God?

Is prayer a sword of false hopes?

Or a cradle of wandering illusions?

If the heart prays and reached the ears of God… could it persuade His mind to change His plans?

I guess… nothing could ever change the will of God… not even our Prayers.

But until then… prayer is the only way to be close to God.

Message In A Blog (Part 4) : We Were Never Really Healed

They say you are a good soul but I don’t believe them. They say you are intelligent but I don’t believe them. They say you are patient but I don’t believe them either. They say you are nice but I doubt it. I’ve never seen you that way through all these years, and that made me think that you are all what you make for them to see. But I know you to the very bone. Growing up with you is such a pain that never heals. I thought time heals all wounds but I’m having a hard time believing that. I’m angry but I know I should not be, though. This make me feel that I’m not a worthy Christian for God is so good in forgiving my most filthy secrets yet I could never learn how to forgive you… even to count the fact that we came from the same navel. The angst inside me is like a coal that whenever the wind blows, it is kindled even hotter. Like everytime we argue, I can’t help but to feel back the angst that has been blown out in years. Maybe you are thinking that I never once appreciated you… but tell me, how can you appreciate something that is given with hard feelings and a mouthful of harsh words… tell me how could I ever appreciate you?..

I wanted to forgive you, and may God forgive me for feeling this way, to count the fact that it is even you.

It is never easy to forgive someone who had wounded you to the very soul. And looking back to those olden years… I could still feel the pain… the scar aches – believe me. It aches more than the fresh wound. I’ve grown up with my back against the world because of that cherished pains that neither tears nor laughters could ever heal. I tried to be numb but the coldness stings.

I wanted to forgive the way I am forgiven. But maybe that is the difference of humans and the divine. Forgiving without blemish, without a trace of pain like nothing was done. But to humans, once the damage is done, you can make it whole again but the cracks will still be visible and there’s no way you can hide it.

God forgive me and give me the strength to forgive as well.

Help me to believe that time could really heal wounds.

“This is the anguish of the youngest child... well-favored, well-adorned, pampered… but inwardly tortured.”

Acknowledgment:

This was written @ Mc Donald’s Camp Padrei, Spain Boulevard sometime during the rainy season last year. While everyone was busy enjoying their burgers and fries and talks about their own silly, petty conversations, this youngest child who owns that tale that was never told sat on one corner with a heart full of angst. That place has always been a part of her life because whenever pain bounds home… solitude is a pain-reliever.

One More Day...

I did not cry. Though my tears were welling on my eyes... Guess I’m more firm now. When I say… “Dess… don’t cry! Don’t you dare cry!” and so my tears back off… it froze before it could spill out of my eyes.

I would have cried out loud if I were at home… but I chose to spend my whole afternoon at Mc Donald’s just to read the book I’ve been wanting to read months ago. I wanted to cry but maybe I am really more firm now… or maybe because I wanted to somehow mimic Chick Bennetto who never dared to cry when the most tempting time to cry came to him.

Crying must have been for the weak… but who are the strong people anyway???

One more day… will it ever come to me?

Should I have to wait for it?

Why do we hurt those people we love the way we are hurt?

What satisfaction do we get from hurting them?

Chocolates & Symphony

It was late in September. The autumn leaves started to fall on the highways and the smell of the golden leaves mixed well with the cool breeze of the early holiday season. The sky was azure but it wasn’t hot, just enough humidity, fair day to call it.

‘T was the day I saw a creature like a half man, half divine riding a red horse. He was fair… as fair as the day as I described it. Suddenly he was transforming into a winged creature like a white hawk if there was one close enough to describe an angel. And in the middle of an ordinary day, he left me with extraordinary lessons in life. He left me wondering and wandering inside my own world.

Oh! But this white hawk has flown away.

I wonder how could we possibly be lost in our own home? How could the cradle we’ve known for so long could become a trap? How could we possibly dig a pit just to jump into it?

Oh! Those lessons I thought I already knew not until it was right there – right off bat. It was damn eerie to see it coming and all you could ever do is to watch it.

The white hawk started singing a lullaby so familiar yet so strange. It sounded too fascinating but the lyrics were so vivid. He was singing those words of promises that started too long ago inside of him but it was just then I’ve come to know. The melodious symphony was like a vision from a never-written book. I was so mesmerized by the song and by the white hawk itself, leaving me inside a dream box like a willing prisoner with all those dancing illusions underneath the silver moon and the golden sun all at the same time.

Suddenly the world has stopped and the white hawk flew away but the red horse stayed with me like a good servant.

Those old yonder dreams started dancing inside of me and made me shiver under the sun. Those old dreams were good dreams but somehow they did not work, but at least I’ve learned how to distinguish dreams from nightmares from what was real.

There are (so many) things in life that no matter how hard we try to make them real, they are just simply not really meant to be. But we can always try for who knows if it was meant or not in the end.

I swear I did try my best or was it just a better part of me? But God knows I did something. But… is destiny more powerful than love? Or is fear greater than love? If love is the greatest and if love never fails… who then failed? Who failed in this story written by the hands of eternity? Is love destined to fail sometime… or most of the time? Is love and destiny mortal enemies? Why can’t destiny just go along with love? Or why can’t love just go along with destiny?

Oh! These questions I never dared to ask not until the white hawk has flown.

The universe conspires but it could never understand the earth’s time. A day on earth is just as eternity to the universe. But there is a reason for everything. The reason why it came so late and why it has to end too soon.

The white hawk could not have passed by on my way but it did. .. Just to ruin my one day that could have been my entire life or even eternity itself. A day of eternity has come and suddenly forever was gone. But the missing piece suddenly became vivid in my sight. It was true, that often times we missed what is missing because we are too busy missing the other people’s missing pieces and not until someone will popped up on our way and mess everything will we come to finally acknowledge what is missing. Yes… the reason why they’ll just come and hurt us then simply go away.

Simplicity is a real challenge. A challenge greater than complications. I could have shared the story of the “supposed-to-be-life”. I would have shared that with the white hawk but it flew away and I was left all alone writing my own story. Actually, I was the only one writing OUR story. I would have traded freedom for a chance to escape. But if there will be a chance to right what has gone wrong, I swear, I know I’ll grasp that chance tight enough to kill the time.

Sometime in our lives we’ve done that one great wrong decision and the rest is history. And also, once in a great while, life gives us a chance to correct it. Sometimes it would take all the courage we’ve gained in our entire years on earth just to finally grasp that flickering moment of risk to change what had happened to what was supposed to happen. We have to choose between the peaceful lives we’ve learned to live with after the wrong decision and the risk of taking another battle just to correct it without any idea about the pros and cons that will come along with the risk.

Sometimes too much light is blinding, more blinding than the darkness itself. Sometimes, too much peace is annoying, more annoying than the war. Sometimes, too much silence is deafening, more deafening that the noise.

I was trapped and there was no other way to go but towards the point where the white hawk stands. Now, it was a dilemma between happiness and what was right.

This would probably one of the hardest thing anyone could ever cross through in their lives – being caught between what is right and what makes you happy.

Rationally, we have to choose what is right, but not until you’re right off bat you will come to know the bitterness and the pain of two surfaces raging against each other and you are in between the friction. They say it is easy said than done – but not always. Sometimes, it is hard to do and the same way it is hard to say it in the most suitable words. Words are like sharp swords that could kill anyone.

But still, choose what is right because happiness is just a state of emotion that could eventually fade away. But what was right even after eternity, it will remain right and that right thing you did could give you that sense of fulfillment and eventually – “MAYBE” happiness too. I’m NOT saying it could guarantee happiness but I say it could guarantee you that fulfillment that once in your life you stood firmly for what is right.

The good holy book is right… “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (1 Cor. 10:13 KJV)

From the dust of the thousands country roads, I hear songs from those blue-eyed grass that could actually reckon me. The white hawk has left me with so much more that what he took from me. But there’s another creature inside that white hawk which I can’t seem to handle. I’m not good enough to let it out and I’m not sure either if I could handle it if I will ever be able to let it out. For some reasons, I have lacked the effort though I knew I should at least show some efforts. Efforts should come from both sides. That was the last thing I’ve learned from the white hawk just before it flew away – that airports are made for airplanes to land.

***EPILOUGE***

As the autumn kissed the winter, so as the pain kissed reality. Forever came just a bit too late… too late for forever to come. The phoenix watched the white hawk dance with the night lark not so far behind those golden trees. Behind her was the red horse and the old wise owl. The phoenix sighed and said – “The white hawk is a good creature, He doesn’t eat grains sent by the wind.” The red horse smiled bitterly and asked the phoenix – “Are you jealous?” The phoenix replied bitterly brave – “No… but it just made me wanting the white hawk more and more… perhaps for myself” The red horse laugh and the old wise owl started laughing too. The phoenix smiled but she could not give in to the laughter. The old wise owl sensing the friction inside the soul of the phoenix (who had been dancing all her life in bitter poignancy) stopped laughing and said – “You are such a pure soul and a kind heart… God has blest you.” The phoenix said – “Then why He did not blest me? Why did He not try to lift even a single finger on my destiny?”

The phoenix did not wait for the reply but silently flew away northward. Sensing that someone was following her, she stopped on one of the branches of an old oak tree.

I look back and saw the the white hawk again. This time he was talking like a fully pledge man and no longer an avian.

He asked me – “who are you?”

I replied… “I’m Phoenix.”

Fin.