In getting Angry

Anger.

One of the most unexplainable emotions set to control ones mind and body into doing things least likely yourself.

Last night, we were at table, and the topic of anger came up. Papa recieved an email which said that you shouldnt talk to someone who is angry: he is bound to be deaf and irrational. what do you do? wait for the storm to subside.

the he backed it up with his personal experience of anger when he himself was a child. his mother, Lola Mama always had to say things with force and coercion when she disciplines them, thus the usial fits of anger. he remembers these things vividly, recalling that they had lived through wartime of the second World War. thus most often than not, their personalities would have been influenced greatly by that. this generation, according to him is entirely different.

we, as his children, on the other hand have been treated with care and gentleness. the objectives are the same: to teach a lesson, but the means are different.

he emphasizes that for a parent to be angry, he should do his utmost best to explain his anger: which ultimately shows his/her capacity for maturity. Spanking, he says, should be dealt with with utmost care.

then i remember that yes, we have been spanked only once in our lives. maybe others have never been spanked, but still im thankful that my parents have been articulate enough to express their anger.

ATAT!

When i enterd the seminary, i was with 15 other people whom i was to call “batchmates” probably for the rest of my life. an my real dilemma then was the bonding i could not see in our group. sa seminaryo kasi, kapag bonded kayo, you have a greater fallback cushion to back you up: real friends. well, i realized that it doesnt come in easily. ive tried probably everything: inviting them to group sharings, talking, even forging batch games and sessions together, outseide the seminary schedule. I wasnt the only one trying. there were a handful of us, but then, unless everyone is willing, it wont work. may mga nagkakahiyaan, nagkakagaluitan, and everything possible.

Now that im in my fourth year, i realized that time really plays a vital role in this process. ngayon nga, hindi pa kami masyadong “close” kung tutuusin.

my counsellor made a wonderful analogy when it comes to thiose things. he said that its like waiting for a butterfly to land on your finger. you dont run after it, lest it would fly away even faster. you sit down and wait. wait. thats the keyword.

Now we’re only three left in the batch (six, counting those who come from the original group of 16, who are in other batches already), and bonding is a very important value we have to acquire, the quicker, the better.

but again comes the dilemma: we all have to take it slow.

another factor is Vulnerability. if youre not at home with being weak, then forget about bonding. this is probably the next more difficult thing: the capacity to trust, and to be trusted, when the oter begins to open up too.

I want to be bonded with the people around me: my friends, my family, my God. But unless i couldnt be at home with myself, i couldnt possibly trust anyone. the whole world will be a killing field, waiting to reject me. the key: self-acceptance, self-knowledge.

A priest told me that you have to test the waters. coz who knows, the other party may not be as ready as you are. If they show signs of opening up, chances are, that they will trust you too. then the relationship becomes mutual, and it grows deeper and stronger.

Open up.

Take time.

the greatest regret i might be faced with is that when i come to realize that all the other people around me are ready – its just me that they’re waiting for.

Jonah

Do you know the story of Jonah?

I bet.

He’s the one whom God sent to preach te word to the Ninevites, yet tried so hard to escape his task. He boarded a ship that was sailing to the exact opposite of Niniveh, so he cant possibly arrive there. Before he knew it, the ship was being tossed and turned by a violent storm, and all its crew were tossing out its cargo to lighten its weight. Jonah, realizing the mistake he had done, admitted his fault, and volunteered to be thrown out together with the cargo. it was then that he realized that what he had done made God disappointed. It was also then that God did everything to change his life.

The story continued with Jonah being swallowed by a huge fish, and being thrown up right at the shores of Niniveh. There, he believed in himself that however you hide form God, God will search for you wherever you may be – until you arrive at the very calling where He put you into.

Jonah tried to escape. But he was found. From there, he did God’s will in the best way he could be: he became the person God had made him to be.

We try to escape many times.

And when we esape, we think that everything is safe, everything is all right already.

that may be far from what really is.

Becaus God will haunt us, until we come to our senses of where we are, what we are born to do, who our real selves are.

A priest told me that it is until you are at peace, until you are at home with yourself, that you begin to share, just like Jonah, the true message of God.

The Achiever

Birthday Speech
January 4, 2006

The Achiever
(My introduction)
Admit it. Making birthday speeches is not fun at all.
This is my third birthday address, and I really haven’t found the true reason why these are needed.
Not until now.
I feel sorry for myself for having realized this very late in my stay here. Nevertheless, I find it a very simple yet profound insight.
I disagree that birthday speeches should be a sharing of ones’ so-called “Vocation Story.” Still, I would frown even at a speech with moving spiritual content, or the like. An ideal birthday speech should just answer one question: a question that we never get to answer everyday, especially with the disorienting movement of each other; a question that a birthday celebrator should be privileged to hear.
KAMUSTA.
We don’t get to ask that every time, do we? Yet, when triggered correctly, it can lead to sharings so deep, it makes community life worth the effort.

(The REAL speech) Kamusta na nga ba ako ngayong beinte-anyos na ako?
Frankly, I’ve been through so much these past few months, and you wont find ‘good’ and ‘okay’ among my answers. Work can get so tough for a pre-postulant, a third year undergraduate, a writer, a director, a teacher, etcetera, all at the same time.
Before I left for home this Christmas break, I swore to myself that I would have to finish loads of curricular and extra-curricular work. On the side, I also promised to enjoy this year’s yuletide season with family and friends, knowing that the next year would not allow me to. But, on the contrary, all of them gathered dust on my desk. Not even half was accomplished.
For you who heard my speech last year, guess what? this year, I had a social life (at least according to my definition). Jerome could attest to that, because we got the chance to watch his idol Bong Revilla in “Exodus” together with old friends. I also had the chance to jam with friends in church, as well as relatives and cousins during our reunion.
I did enjoy.
For once, I went on vacation with eyes wide shut to the heaping requirements before me. I simply rested from the hectic seminary pressures.
But don’t get me wrong. I did check on them. But little by little, there were things that I saw I couldn’t handle. I didn’t play Superman anymore, just as I did before, and it made a whole lot of difference.

Looking back at my experiences, I think it’s never too late for a break. I have to admit that I’m the type of person who gets too guilty if he is given one. Now, I begin to see that taking things easy is as vital as taking it tough.
I still have the same answer as to how I am now. And I end this speech with the answer I gave my mom when she asked what my birthday wish was: I need another Achiever to do the work.

She is dead

Sermonette delivered on Sept. 8, 2005

Mary is dead.

In my mind, in my thought, in my life.

Isn’t it ironical? I go over the routine of waking up everyday, parroting my morning prayers carelessly, and doing my same old practices – ever mindful of the watchful eye of the superiors – then, I call myself a seminarian. A seminarian of Don Bosco at that.

Two members of our extended family died this past two months. The first was the father of my Aunt, and the second was the cousin of my father. They were both very close to our family in ways we could never define (people to whom you’re related to this far, don’t usually come into the picture of your extended family tree, but they managed to be part of our lives). Today, another person has died. She, whom I hold dearest to my heart. She who has become a part of the ironical cycle of each of our lives here in the seminary. She died today to give in to our whims and caprices, our laziness and lukewarmness.

I don’t know why I came up here, and began this eulogy. But one thing is for sure. I am really depressed.

Tonight, as I share this and as I will later enjoy my sumptuous dinner, my family is out in our church attending the Thursday night formation for Catechists – sacrificing their dinner until 10 this evening. Tomorrow night, and the night after that, they will be there again, for another prayer group gathering of who knows what. I know where they are, because I too, used to attend those kinds of late-night meetings and Bible studies. I used to make extraordinary sacrifices for the sake of our parish community, and for the expiation of my sins.
Now, I can’t even make the slightest abstinence from anything.

Dear brothers and fathers in the Lord, I left my family three years ago, hoping that I could gain more insight as regards my faith. I entered with high hopes looking forward to a new life and a new vision – an ideal vision – which I can die with. I left my family to the only person I knew who would be always there for them: She, whom I speak about now, who is dead. Now, that depression has just transformed into something deeper: desolation. A desolate kind of feeling that creeps into my soul because I too, have been guilty of killing her inside me.

But as all desolations surface, eventually there will come a consolation.
I would like to share that my mother was diagnosed with a small complication in her womb about two weeks ago. She began feeling it only after three months of irregular periods. The other Friday, she was operated upon, even after the strong opposition by her cardiologist. This is my consolation: because a day after the operation, she was able to stand and move about. It was a success, and a miracle for all of us.
Up to now, I wish to thank Her, whose prayers never ceased for my mother, even if I have been neglectful.

I don’t believe that today is September 8.

I don’t believe that we, here in the seminary deserve to celebrate the birthday of one who has been dead in all our actions, our prayers and our lives.

All these, I don’t believe because I don’t see her in you.

You are my Mary.

Please, bring her back to me.

Just cant help it

just a few days ago, i really swore i wouldnt enter into blogging. i said, what’s the use? no one gets to read them anyway? whats more, i thought i kept really faithful to my old-fashioned journal, which kept me company especially in times of drought.

Well, not anymore.

Maybe it was through the gust of wind from the Holy Spirit, which made me realize that i had to make use of something more accessible, and up-to-date, in order for me to archive my anecdotes, reflections and ideas… just about anything.

sometimes, it can be altogether useful to keep a small notebook inside your pocket. Just remember to keep an outlet for those ideas, once it gets filled up.