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 be.



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. ☺