Doing it with passion

Youth is synonymous with energy, and with it, the passion of doing things, of having  energy rush  for every new adventure.  The infant is bewildered with the world around him, the same sense of awe that drives him to experience anything new.  The unknown is always a source of adventure.

As a child, I watched my elder sister play hide-and-seek during full moon, in a place that had no electricity then.  When I was six, and my parents allowed me to play during full moon,  I counted the days the day right  after the full moon, the start of the wait  for  another moon cycle, so I could go out and be lost into  the night.

The river in our place caught my fascination that I would cut classes so I could swim in the then pristine waters.  One time, I brought along with me my two younger brothers, to swim, and when my father discovered it, he punished the three of us to kneel for hours before an altar.  But that never deterred me.  The wonders of the river always beckoned me, even with the punishment.

When we grow older, we tend to do things sans the element of adventure but of our ideas about the activity.  Having had previous experiences, we know already the feeling, and understood the reasons for the activity.  Somehow, we get detached from the activity because at the back of our mind is the mental picture of the activity.  We thus tend to be more cerebral than emotional when we tackle the activity. It is not   the heart that dominates but the reason why an activity has to be done.

When I became a lawyer, civic groups invited me, and joining is a must, as any lawyer should, if he intends to establish a network of friends who are prospective clients.  At the age of 25, months after passing the BAR exams, a prestigious fraternity opened its otherwise secretive gates for me to enter, the FREE MASON.  I was already in the venue where the “raising”  (or formal start of the initiation) was held,  but my heart was not beating fast for that fraternity – there was no fascination nor wonder in joining the group.  Before the gates were opened, I left hurriedly.

At the age of five, I was playing competitive chess.  I played for long hours every day, honing my skill, competing with players much older than me. I could then play chess in my mind. Every chess game was an adventure.  But when I was already playing top level chess, the passion suddenly went pfftt. The need to be a champion took away the adventure the game once had. Chess ceased to be an adventure but a duty to practice daily to be a champion. One day, I could not find in my heart the sense of adventure when I played chess.  The fire was spent. At the young age of 13, I stopped playing chess.

I tried golf, and shooting, and went competitive, and was quite successful. After learning the ropes of the game, the passion was just gone.

What caught my passion early on in my professional life was the handheld radio.  That was in 1993, when cell phones and internet were yet unheard of in our country.  There was thrill in talking to people from distant places, of dismantling the radio set to analyze its parts, and studying for the licensure exam for radio communicators.  That was the time when I designed, and made my own radio antennae to compete with other enthusiasts.  The passion lasted for almost three years.  It was so short but the radio group I founded swelled to 1,500 members that everyday there was always a birthday celebration I had to attend, or in some instances, to visit the sick, dying, or deceased member.  The cell phone crazed naturally supplanted radio communication but the friendship among the members last even up to today.

When I was thirty years old, I got injured in a basketball game that I was limping for almost six months.  Though the spirit was still throbbing for basketball yet the bones were becoming brittle and the muscles, atrophying.

Accidently, while recuperating from my injury, I saw a tennis clinic for beginners.  At first, I thought the game is easy until I borrowed a tennis racket and tried to hit the ball and never to hit one correctly until more than ten attempts.  Secretly, I trained on my own, at the wall of church.  That secret training, without my knowing it, defined my life – from 1996 up to the present, not only my life but that of my family and the people who have been involved in the tennis movement in this part of the region.

Admittedly, the passion for lawyering has always been burning inside. Despite the experiences of how justice can be bought, or squandered by the sheer ignorance of a judge, the court scene is always never the same; it is always something new, and therefore, a possible source of infinite wonder and awe. But the profession is just too taxing for the mind and body that already, I am thinking on going into another field – politics.

Tennis is another story.  Almost every day, when my lawyering schedule permits, my family and I would be in a tennis court, to play tennis, or just to talk and drink with tennis buddies who are like extended families to me already. Every time I play tennis, the passion is still burning.  Maybe, this too will not last.

When we engage in activities with child-like fascination, we often excel and are generally fulfilled. But the moment the passion is lost, we search for other concerns, a new experience  to explore, and to unravel its thrill – the search may be endless.

Happily though for me, my writing for passion still throbs inside, to chronicle the varied concerns I have devoted my time into.  May be the fire for writing will one day end, when my heart does not seek anymore for a new field, a concern, a sport, or an activity.  That time perhaps will coincide when the candle of life ends.

where hath the home gone?

 

It was a reunion.  Yet when he entered the campus, the location was different and the structures unfamiliar.  Is not a reunion a reminiscence  of the good old days,  both as to persons and places?  How could this be a reunion in an alien place?

Then the host welcomed them with her speech: “ This is not anymore the house you used to play around.  The new high school campus is here.  The buildings you used to spend your time have now been destroyed.  Yet, we welcome you all to our home because it is in our hearts, in our collective memories.”  No one indeed can take the home away, but can she possibly relocate a new home for the alumni?

A house is not a home, so the cliché goes.  Wordweb says “the house is a dwelling”  but a home is a social unit living together”. 

He has  lived  in three cities and three provinces, and spent years in those different  places.  But whenever he was asked where is home, he always blurted the place of his birth, Libas, that place that wherever he would be, he still longed to return and revisit, to renew lifelong ties. His umbilical cord was buried there by  a “mananabang”, one who assists in a delivery even though she has no  formal schooling.  Of the siblings, his connection to his birthplace is the strongest.

Way back in the school days, vacations and Christmas were not complete without going home to Libas.  The place seemed to contain psychic energies that keep aflame the fire of life, when all the stresses of campus days gave way to charivari at night drinking “tuba” with childhood buddies, and recovering from a hangover  by diving into the then pristine river.  If the womb would nourish the fetus, Libas, his home, nurtures life.

But the home was lost. It started with the house.  In 1984, super typhoon Nitang felled two coco trees near the house, damaging the greater part of the kitchen.  The ancestral house was never the same since.  Then, the  dog which reached 13 years, got blind, sedentary, and then died.  The dog, even if he were away for a year, never failed to meet him at the wooden gate, wagging his tail and jumping at him, as if reaching for an embrace.  The saddest news struck: his  grandmother’s brother died.  There was no one left living in the house.

He cannot recall now when the last time his saw the ancestral house.  The windows, the roofs, the pillars, without his knowing, slowly disintegrated that what he sees now as testament of his  birthing home, are concrete posts.

The last time he attended the fiesta of  Libas was almost a decade already.  Together with a law partner, he joined a gathering of people watching a program, and then later on, public dance which the folks claim to be a “disco”.  He did receive few handshakes from people  whose name he could not recall anymore.  For the first time, he felt estranged in the place of birth.  Ah, could these folks not remember that for several years he was there in the stage to emcee the program which he orchestrated?  And these wannabe bullies, could they not know that once, he was a “gang leader” here?

In a place that once was so familiar with you, now is a place where you become a stranger.  How could it be when he thought he owned this place because his umbilical cord was buried here?

Where is then home now?

The host in that high school reunion told them that home is in the heart, that even if the old campus is now gone, there is  a new campus which they can claim theirs.  After her speech, he wanted to tell her, “ Our campus was the place where we played basketball, milled around, peeked at our young and sexy teachers, played out our foibles and whims – our campus was the only witness of the secrets of our batch.”

Sorry ma’am.  Your new campus cannot be his home.  The campus where he once belonged had been destroyed. There are new buildings which he could not associate with.  True to worbweb definition though, “Batch  ‘82 is  a social unit”  which is now finding a house which the batch hope, over time, after so many interactions, can be called home.  Rebuilding the old campus is impossible but in the virtual world, they have found a house, where all the batchmates, who are now in different parts of the globe, can congregate, share foibles and whims, and in the journey in time, he may call this house – http://groups.yahoo.com/group/xuhs82/ – our newfound home.

To live without a home is to go through life without the beginning.  Somehow, if the old home is neither here nor there anymore, one has to search for a new home, a place which nurtures life.  Libas was once a home, but it has ceased to be one when one day, he felt he was a stranger, when everything else seemed alien. 

Where is that home?  The batch has found a house. But his new home is out there, in the process of making. Or, who knows, there could never be home anymore like Libas.

changing views

Fr. Montero, S.J., our professor in metaphysics, used to tell us before the start of the class: “Quid quid recipitur, recipitur secundum mudum recipiende”. Translated, “Everything is received according to the capacity of the receiver.” By way of an analogy, the one-liter bottle can never hold more than its capacity.

Then, Fr. Montero would proceed: “This is an immutable law of nature.” If you are dumb, you are bound to me one. If your I.Q. is that of a moron, then don’t aspire for post graduate studies.

May his soul rest, I indeed kept his maxim to the heart. No one from the class challenged his view. How can indeed a one-liter bottle hold two liters of water? From the classroom discussion, this seeming truism influence the way we relate to people. This child, given his I.Q., cannot take up law; that employee can never do this task.

Whilst science owes its framework from philosophy, the latter too has to bow to the superiority of the empirically demonstrated fact. The flat earth theory was a Mesopotamian thought that prevailed for many centuries, percolating in science, politics, and religion. Until Ferdinand Magellan circumnavigated the earth, the earth was then held not round. The whole system of knowledge had to be overhauled.

Then lately, contemporary medical findings have it that the neural networks that wire man’s brain can actually be stimulated by engaging the mind in both creative and analytical activities so the neurons multiply and create more linkages. The more linkages of the neurons, the more wired the brain is, and hence, the better I.Q and even E.Q a person have.

Science too may later on develop a bottle that even if it is designed to hold one liter of water, it may contain more compared to the present design because in the future, perhaps, even in between the molecules of the glass bottle, there may be nano particles that can hold up water. Now, you don’t measure intelligence by I.Q. The generally accepted norm today is multi-intelligences. The brightest of your kid, or employee, or you friend, may not necessarily be the best for the organization. The entire person is the package.

Are there really immutable laws of nature? The answer cannot be had in the near future. Philosophical theories are constantly being redefined by science, and the latter’s direction is being moulded by the contemporary thought.

Rigidity. Fundamentalism. Absolutism. These are anathema of the unfolding of human knowledge. Given the context, the right attitude is not dogmatism nor relativism. Dogmatism stifles the search for knowledge, and adaptation to something new. Relativism however leads to chaos. For sure, concepts and ideas may not be necessarily existentially true because one believes it to be so. The taking of soma plant during the Kali yoga ritual is not necessarily sound because they experience the 7^th heaven in their hallucinatory flight. There are certain universal virtues, not necessarily immutable truths that still keep humanity intact for millenniums now.

The attitude should be openness, the capacity to learn, listen, experiment, and adapt to new concepts. One does not have to die for a view which overtime have been proven false by verifiable phenomena. When the Oil Deregulation Law in the Philippines was enacted, consumers’ blood pressure shot up because that would mean pillage by the oil cartel in the Philippines comprising of Shell, Caltex, and Petron. That was in 1998. Ten years after, and after two months drinking with the top executives of the new oil player in the market, the new opinion has to be formed: the Oil Deregulation Law is good for the Philippine economy. The cartel of the Big Three is being slowly torn asunder by the many new players which roll back the pump prices ahead of the former. The hour per hour monitoring of the pump prices by this new player, JETTI Oil, is evidenced enough of the cut-throat competition going on. This is good for the consumers.

In human relations, openness is the key. One or two events do not a person make. Prejudgement, discrimination, bias, these three have no place in contemporary history that keeps on changing, and evolving. While as a human race, we evolve in knowledge; as a person, we are still in the life long search for identity, and in the process, revealing shades of the evolving persona.

How one wish Fr. Montero, S.J. is still alive, to tell him that his dictum does not hold now. But then he was a product of his time and place. No one should judge a person without judging the historical context he was in. And who are we to judge the historical context of the past which eventually, we the present, trace the long thread of the past, live the present, and project the future?

Had Fr. Montero been still alive today, the bet is for him to open up to the knowledge of the present, and adapt it. May be, even as he was still schooled in metaphysics and immutable truths, by now, he would live blogging his ideas into the virtual world.

Openness. How can you argue against?

pausing from a blur

It has been months since I last blogged.  The events, both professional and personal, have been a blur.  The lawyer’s life is almost everyday racing to beat deadlines of legal briefs.  On a personal side,  constructing  a new house which is near the children’s school took my  off office hours.  But as in the past,  I always take time to reflect during my natal day.  Such day is today.

 When we are young,  time seems too slow.  During my elementary years, I wanted to finish fast so I would be in high school; and in high school, I wished time would pass fast so I be in college. But past forty, it seems that time passes so fast that you want that it would stand still.  There are so many concerns you want completed that one desires for more time.  I have seen people in a funeral, and wondered why people walk slowly as they lay the dead to the final resting place. Now I realize that the walk is precisely to bewail for the lost time not spent with the dead.  If only we could turn back the hands of father time.

But time has to pass; so too this borrowed life.  In the end, I ask, what are the things I have done, and things that I should do, so that in the end, I want everybody not to walk in the funeral but run as fast because the life once lived had been meaningful. If it were a sentence, the grave should be the final punctuation mark, a period, that to extend it would mean the loss of the magic the sentence evokes.

Meaning???!!!  Ah, how many lives have been spent without really finding it, and how many journeys ending in a meaningless search.  Once, I wrote about one’s meaning in life, and I received a rather harsh reaction from fellow blogger virtually called PAPA.  The meaning of one’s life is not something cerebral; it is the way we live and relate to people, in  perking up the otherwise mundane things; in celebrating triumphs and arising whole and intact from failures.

Today, I have forgiven in my heart the person who hurt me badly these past days.  I could not understand why that despite the help I am extending,  venom still comes out from her mouth.  Even as she refused to acknowledge the wrong, and thus refuse my forgiveness,  it does not matter.  My heart is now cleansed.  A poisoned heart is not at peace.

Then I recall Stephen Covey and his idea about paradigm.  What makes man unique is not his genetic make-up.  Science can make a clone, a close copy of the double helix of the original.  What makes man truly unique is not his DNA; it is his perception of reality.  A clone may have the genetic make-up of the original, but it does not have the consciousness of the latter.

When one arise from his bed every morning, he either sees the receding darkness, or the rising of the sun from the horizon.  There you immediately see the persona, one distinctly different from the other.  Among those who see darkness, the shades of the dark differ ; for those who see the rising sun, they too differ in their perception of the intensity of the light.

The challenge for human understanding and compassion, is to be able to see how the other perceives reality, the standpoint from which he sees the situation – in a word, his paradigm.  Knowing and understanding the other necessitates viewing things from his paradigm.  If one is able to do this, compassion prevails in his heart.

In my career too as a lawyer, I always try to understand the paradigm of  my client, the adverse party, the opposing lawyer, and upon  knowing  where they  come from, I tend to know what strategy they will use, and what measures needed to counter the tactics.

Yes, PAPA,  it is not finding meaning but in being fully alive and awake, of passion  for life that truly matters.

I have celebrated life with my relatives, employees, friends, even with unknown individuals.  Bottles of beers have been emptied; tennis balls have been struck with precision and ferocity; tempers have flared-up;  jokes have been shared;  legal briefs have been written; and yes, tears too have been shed -  all these in celebration of a life.   Today is the best day to renew the passion for life, in real life and yes, even in the virtual reality.

                                                   

 

doing it with passion

Youth is synonymous with energy, and with it, the passion of doing things , of having energy rush for every new adventure. The infant is bewildered with the world around him, the same sense of awe that drives him to experience anything new. The unknown is always a source of adventure.

As a child, I watched my elder sister play hide-and-seek during full moon, in a place that had no electricity then. When I was six, and my parents allowed me to play during full moon, I counted the days the day right after the full moon, the start of the wait for another moon cycle, so I could go out and be lost into the night.

The river in our place caught my fascination that I would cut classes so I could swim in the then pristine waters. One time, I brought along with me my two younger brothers, to swim, and when my father discovered it, he punished the three of us to kneel for hours before an altar. But that never deterred me. The wonders of the river always beckoned me, even with the punishment.

When we grow older, we tend to do things sans the element of adventure but of our ideas about the activity. Having had previous experiences, we know already the feeling, and understood the reasons for the activity. Somehow, we get detached from the activity because at the back of our mind is the mental picture of the activity. We thus tend to be more cerebral than emotional when we tackle the activity. It is not the heart that dominates but the reason why an activity has to be done.

When I became a lawyer, civic groups invited me, and joining is a must, as any lawyer should, if he intends to establish a network of friends who are prospective clients. At the age of 25, months after passing the BAR exams, a prestigious fraternity opened its otherwise secretive gates for me to enter, the FREE MASON. I was already in the venue where the “raising” (or formal start of the initiation) was held, but my heart was not beating fast for that fraternity – there was no fascination nor wonder in joining the group. Before the gates were opened, I left hurriedly.

At the age of five, I was playing competitive chess. I played for long hours every day, honing my skill, competing with players much older than me. I could then play chess in my mind. Every chess game was an adventure. But when I was already playing top level chess, the passion suddenly went pfftt. The need to be a champion took away the adventure the game once had. Chess ceased to be an adventure but a duty to practice daily to be a champion. One day, I could not find in my heart the sense of adventure when I played chess. The fire was spent. At the young age of 13, I stopped playing chess.

I tried golf, and shooting, and went competitive, and was quite successful. After learning the ropes of the game, the passion was just gone.

What caught my passion early on in my professional life was the handheld radio. That was in 1993, when cell phones and internet were yet unheard of in our country. There was thrill in talking to people from distant places, of dismantling the radio set to analyze its parts, and studying for the licensure exam for radio communicators. That was the time when I designed, and made my own radio antennae to compete with other enthusiasts. The passion lasted for almost three years. It was so short but the radio group I founded swelled to 1,500 members that everyday there was always a birthday celebration I had to attend, or in some instances, to visit the sick, dying, or deceased member. The cell phone crazed naturally supplanted radio communication but the friendship among the members last even up to today.

When I was thirty years old, I got injured in a basketball game that I was limping for almost six months. Though the spirit was still throbbing for basketball yet the bones were becoming brittle and the muscles, atrophying.

Accidently, while recuperating from my injury, I saw a tennis clinic for beginners. At first, I thought the game is easy until I borrowed a tennis racket and tried to hit the ball and never to hit one correctly until more than ten attempts. Secretly, I trained on my own, at the wall of church. That secret training, without my knowing it, defined my life – from 1996 up to the present, not only my life but that of my family and the people who have been involved in the tennis movement in this part of the region.

Admittedly, the passion for lawyering has always been burning inside. Despite the experiences of how justice can be bought, or squandered by the sheer ignorance of a judge, the court scene is always never the same; it is always something new, and therefore, a possible source of infinite wonder and awe. But the profession is just too taxing for the mind and body that already, I am thinking on going into another field – politics.

Tennis is another story. Almost every day, when my lawyering schedule permits, my family and I would be in a tennis court, to play tennis, or just to talk and drink with tennis buddies who are like extended families to me already. Every time I play tennis, the passion is still burning. Maybe, this too will not last.

When we engage in activities with child-like fascination, we often excel and are generally fulfilled. But the moment the passion is lost, we search for other concerns, a new experience to explore, and to unravel its thrill – the search may be endless.

Happily though for me, my writing for passion still throbs inside, to chronicle the varied concerns I have devoted my time into. May be the fire for writing will one day end, when my heart does not seek anymore for a new field, a concern, a sport, or an activity. That time perhaps will coincide when the candle of life ends.

the reflective capacity: “cogito, ergo sum”

Between man and all those that belong to Kingdom Animalia, there is an eternal chasm. Of all creatures, only man is capable of rational thinking. Rene Descartes exclaimed: “Cogito, ergo sum.” Translated, “I think therefore I am”. But there is even a greater divide between the rest of the members of his kingdom: It is only man who is capable of thinking that he is in fact thinking. In a word, man is capable of reflection, of transcending himself from his present existence.

The Myth of Sisyphus has been like a biblical parable to the existentialists. While the Garden of Eden saw Adam and Eve created to multiply, subdue the earth, and have dominion over all things, Sisyphus was condemn to roll the stones up the hill, and when it reaches the peak, the stone rolls down. For Sisyphus, there is no end to the eternal damnation. Since he was damned, he has to find meaning of the existence he did not choose.

But confronted with the circumstance of his existence, he has to project something beyond the present, beyond his present circumstance. In a word, in the face of the absurdity of rolling the stone upwards, there got to be meaning; otherwise, absurdity can easily turn to insanity, if not to suicide.

Human existence – stripped of the religious content, of the faith element which no argument is needed – is of Sisyphean genre. Every day, man devotes his time learning, working, socializing, ministering to his material and spiritual needs as well. But after all the lifetime of doing all these, everything is reduced to a dust, as all humans are destined. Life, and living it, is one prolonged trajectory from the cradle to the grave. After all the time spent surviving and living, ironically, every day spent is a day inching towards the grave. If life would have to end in that absurd way, why live at all?

For the religious, faith teaches him that there is afterlife. If there is afterlife, then the present existence must be spent following the rules the Creator ordained for human salvation. In the light of the promising future, there is meaning in what one does at present.

But the grace of faith, even if is bestowed on all humans, is not all the time recognized and lived. What then of present life? And besides, supposed there is no after life, what to make of one’s life? Would it mean that people are licensed to commit suicide because living and trying to survive is absurd?

Man is thrust in the world without freedom. No one choose to be born. But having been born alive, he is called upon to live and survive the kind of life that he wants, a life project that he has to forge and nurture. One realizes though that the other fellow human beings were born, and many will be born, without any option not to. If the mother’s womb nourished the fertilized egg until it is born, society is the womb that enables human to survive and live, using the tools of civilization – language, mores history, culture. Not only did man not choose to live, he too has to reckon with another given in his life – his social milieu.

Why does one grope for meaning in life? Why does Sisyphus have to appreciate the drudgery of rolling the stone upwards, and up again every time the stone rolls down? Take out the meaning content of life, and you lose the reason to continue living. And why does one have to have meaning in order to go on living? The key lies in man’s nature. Man not only thinks, but he is the only living being that is aware that he is thinking. Due to this human faculty of reflection, he is capable of finding meaning. Ironically also, man’s capacity to reflect is the same reason why he feels the gnawing angst if he loses meaning in living further. If man cannot relate something transcendental to his present existence, he feels the existential angst which all men are heirs to. This angst is the feeling of loneliness in a crowd, the barrenness of life amidst material plenty: it is the sadness that lays hidden behind the smile.

For animals, the definition of their nature and their kind of life is summed-up easily by their present circumstance. Man, on the other, is not defined by his present circumstance because he has transcendent nature, the capacity of going beyond the circumstance as he waives dreams, and fashions a meaning which is only accessible to him. You heard tales of great men who, despite the face of death, still uphold their ideals and dreams, men who dared to lose their lives so their life project, the meaning of their existence survives.

Because man reflects, he transcends the present. He is willing to lose his life so the meaning of his life may not be put to naught.

But ironically, man’s capacity for self-awareness, for reflection is also the bane that he carries until the grave. As one takes a mental picture of the kind of life he intends to live, and compare it with his present circumstance, there he realizes that there is a seeming unbridgeable divide. Even as he tries to realize his life project, his present prevents him from doing so, and even if he tries to bridge it, it appears that life project is receding further beyond his reach.

There was a boy born of poverty. He dreamed to be a doctor. By sheer diligence and hard work, he realized his dream. He succeeded. He acquired material wealth which he only dreamt of before. He became prominent. But then, even with his success. He committed suicide. We ask why?

Man’s projection of himself differs vastly in content. The doctor, owing to poverty may have dreamed of acquiring material wealth. The sure road is the medical profession which is paid handsomely. Yet, he may have realized later on that what really completes him is not material wealth, but something which may be yet undefined.

What then characterizes this meaning in life? Is the goal we set the meaning of our life? Take the doctor. He has achieved his goal but he snuffed out his own life. The problem with a goal being the end-all and be-all of one’s life is that when we achieve the goal, we realize that it never completes us otherwise we see no more reason for living. We struggle in life because there is something yet missing, something that we have to find. Once a goal is achieved, there will always be another one, and still another. The heart will always be restless.

The meaning of life, the true meaning that is, lies in the way we live life, in finding happiness in everything we do, not in the fleeting euphoria after having achieved a goal. This way, you do not hunger for what is not within your grasp because you are at peace with what you are and with what you have. Sisyphus did not aim to roll the stone upwards because there was a futility of the effort. If we aim to amass wealth, acquire knowledge, achieve the goals, the absurdity of it all is that when we die, all these turn into dust. The key therefore is to transcend ourselves and find the kind of life that we find our heart at peace with. That way, every step towards the Sisyphean apex is a source of joy notwithstanding that up the hill, the stone rolls down again; just all men, everything they do, end up in the grave.

The tragedy of life is not in failing to achieve the meaning of life, but to die without finding the meaning of his existence.

 

simplify life

Peter, at the age of 28, is two ranks away from becoming the captain of an international ship, after just seven years in the sea.  While others envied him for his stellar rise, he suddenly stopped, and decided to go home, and restart life by going back to school and study another course.  I asked him why, and he said: “ I have whispered so many dreams to the surging waves, and whilst my time in the vastness of the ocean.  For once, I want to sleep in my own pillow where my heart rests at peace”.

I dreamt of becoming a lawyer with lucrative practice, and be a politician.  After just five years into law practice, I was in the law firm where clients have to secure appointments, and a firm where I could launch my political career, one partner being a congressman already.  Then suddenly, I realized that I wanted a simpler life.  In 1999, I chose to resettle and open a new law office, and started all over again.

When the new year is only nights away, it is time to reflect on what one has done and has failed to do for the year,  and yes, not even for a year, but of the years one have lived so far.

People have amassed wealth. Bill Gates was once the richest until he gave to others the chunk of his wealth.  Others sought fame and glory.  Still others put a harem.  Bin Laden chose the path of terror.  But when people reach the top of the ladder of the path they have opted for, they realize that the ladder ends in eternity.  There is no so-called peak of wealth, fame, glory, and yes, even infamy.  When you think you reach there, you realize that there is something still which you can never reach nor acquire.

Many have burnt their life energies in pursuit of their dreams, only to realize that there is something lacking, that the dreams can never come in complete fruition.  Others even die without knowing if they have reached the apex of their dreams.  Still many choose death in utter frustration of the inherent impossibility of achieving the fullness of their dreams, and of their desires. Worst, there are those who died without even knowing what dreams they have had.

Human existence has, as it were, always “a hole in the donut”.  There can be no fullness in living.  Man like a donut, has always that existential “hole” that prevents him from being complete, of being fully satisfied; otherwise, if there is no such hole, he ceases to be human, and the donut ceases also.

Fr. Michael Moga, S.J.,  the principal exponent and author of Man’s Infinite Hunger,  once told our class: “ The key is not to achieve, to acquire, to dream: the key does not lie beyond but is inside your heart.  Try to ask yourself, what truly makes you happy and content, where can your heart find peace and solace, if you have found this, then live that life.”

I asked Peter why he stopped being a seaman, and choose to live frugally.  He told me: “For seven years I stayed in the ship, I had only one vacation every two  years but  I earned dollars.  P1000 then was only a loose change. I can easily give the money away.  I could buy food, wine, and women. During thirty days of vacation, I could do everything I wanted to.  Then after, back to the reality of surging waves and the expanse of the ocean.  In a word, I bargained two years for thirty days of bacchanalia, hedonism, and gluttony.  Now, every penny counts. I don’t stay in hotels anymore but stays in the house of relatives and become closer to them.  I do not ride in taxis anymore but in public vehicles where I got to talk to co-passengers who are my neighbors, and we exchange jokes while riding.  Since I do not have money, I do not go out on Sundays but I instead go to the church where the priest will not compel you to give tithes.  So I become closer to God.  I am happy for the full one year without losing my life n the seas.”

The key to living is not of having nor achieving but of finding meaning.  When I was young, I could not understand why my grandfather would close the door of his room, and do nothing for the day but read books.  When he died, and I was tasked to give a eulogy,  I was thinking of what to say.  Then I went inside his room, and browsed the books.  There I realized that for every line of every page, there was always a comment or a cross reference.  Reading his books, due to sheer volume,  could last a lifetime.  So only a man who found meaning in reading the books could so passionately comment on every line the author  said.  When I was called to give the eulogy, I was almost tempted to say: “Here lies a man who had uninterrupted lifetime of orgasm reading books”.  In deference to my elders, I simply said: “ My grandfather has no wealth, has no diploma, but he had the fullness of life he only knew, and had we known, we could only envy about.”

Before I decided to relocate my law practice, I was a  heavy, and gasping 86 kilos, thanks to  birthdays,  baptisms, anniversaries, or plain charivaris among buddies, which an aspiring politician cannot  refuse. Home everyday was early dawn when my children and wife were already sleeping.  Even in the house, clients would come, taking away the time that I should have spent with my kids.  Then I resolved that I did not have to be a high profile lawyer.  Deep in my heart, I was only longing for the simple joys of trial works, of cross-examinations and arguments, without sacrificing a family.  In an attempt to balance my life, I relocated my practice and simplified my life to work, tennis court, and home, and attending parties do not come as obligation.

I do not claim to have the fullness of life but I never regret my decision to start life anew.  Hopefully, Peter, who just made his decision three months ago,  will not also regret later in life.

paradigms

I have devoured books. Books about sports, history, bios, philosophy, religion, and even, banned books. I too read pornography, and true art as well. What I am now, for sure, is not not only the synergy of the real lessons in life but also, the teachings the books taught me. Real lessons, once learned, cannot be unlearned: like a chronic disease, they become part of your being.

But in our readings, there are books which we imbibe the most, books which become prisms on how we view society and life in general. Two authors stand out for me: Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and Stephen Covey.

Hegel’s The Philosophy of History demonstrated the well – known dialectical reasoning of thesis-anti thesis and the resulting synthesis. For him, reality as we know it is the unfolding of the progression of the human thought, the dialectical materialism; that for every stage in history, there is the embryonic seed of destruction that would result to a synthesis which is a progression of the former state of things, which synthesis, in turn become the thesis in the historical ladder.

Heavy concepts , it seems. When I read Hegel’s books, at first, I thought I was facing a blank wall. I had to read several of his books before I took hold of his idea. The idea is actually unfolded in history. The affluence that wealth brings in capitalist America is the boon and bane of that state. Because people live in comfort and luxury, the incoming generation tend to be less industrious compared to the fathers that toiled for the wealth. There is the loosening of morals and discipline, essential traits of the nations that brought the wealth. The thesis, the wealthy society that is America, therefore, generated its own seed of destruction, the coming of the generation that marvels at comfort and luxury without the corresponding industry and discipline which the fathers had.

The anti-thesis of a free and honest election is the massive cheating, fraud and terrorism. But that too will necessarily end, not now perhaps, but if we follow the Hegelian dialectic, it will have its end, or at least refinement, in a new synthesis. Why? Because the anti-thesis of the free election, if pushed to its limits, carries with it its own demise. Massive electoral cheating, if it becomes intolerable, will invite its fierce foes.

What does this idea of dialectical materialism impact on me? I view events positively. When I read the horrible headlines, my spirit is not necessarily dampened. Terrorism, corruption, electoral cheating, these too shall pass and be resolved in a new synthesis. These are mere material manifestations of the progression of human history, and the evolution of the human thought. When this anti-thesis to a good society is exemplified in its worst forms, society will inevitably bring forth the synthesis. The wrong idea of actors being elected to office reached its apex during Erap’s election, and that the idea, as shown by the recent polls have to be killed. Cesar Montano, Richard Gomez, Lito Lapid were sent packing for their movie shoots and not the public offices.

The second book that impacted on me tremendously which changed my paradigm about people is that of Stephen Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. It was gifted to me on my natal day by somebody I treasure for a lifetime. Accordingly, every actuation of a person can be understood based on a paradigm. Why do some Muslims regard Christians with enmity? Go to their paradigm. For them, we Christians are still the infidels who have desecrated their religion. If you understand where they are coming from, you understand the manifestations of their paradigm, and the greater your tolerance for cultural differences. Why does my eldest kid misbehave? Then go where she is coming from. Her next sibling followed barely a year after. When she needed our parental care and understood what it meant, we were coddling mostly the newborn. Her misconduct is a way of telling us that she too exists and needs coddling. Covey’s book opened my reservoir of compassion to other people. When I see people and their actuations, I relate these to their respective paradigm.

If every person would just view each other’s actuations based on the paradigm of that person, then the world will be very peaceful. Pope Benedict XVI, in fact, when he made a speech in a German university, though he was heavily criticized, invited Muslims and Christians to a true dialogue, a deeper understanding of the true bases of our discord.

The way we relate to people based on their respective paradigm is a paradigm in itself. But lest I may be misunderstood, Covey’s book is not an invitation to tolerate the commission of a wrong. Our paradigm is limited to our own perceptions and experiences. As my late professor in Metaphysics, Fr. Montero said: quid quid recipitur, recipitur secumdum mudum recepiendi. {Translated, things are received or perceived depending on the capacity of the receiver}. Ones paradigm and his understanding depends largely on his capacity to perceive and understand. Though our paradigms differ, the manifestations must be guided with the natural law of right and wrong. Killings cannot be tolerated just because one paradigm allows it. To detonate a bomb to kill the infidels may be understood in the light of one’s religious paradigm. But understanding and tolerance are different concepts. To kill a person, not in self-defense, cannot be universally accepted nor can it be justified in the tribunal of our conscience. I may understand why you box me, but hell, I cannot tolerate that it be done to me.

Should I keep these lessons throughout my lifetime? I doubt. Hegel said that the true nature of man is unfolding yet in history. The kind of life and being that I may become in the future is not a fixture, definitely not static. The lessons I have, true enough, may be not be unlearned, but as I march to towards life, I may find my own thesis-antithesis-synthesis, that the idea I treasure most, may find a different expression.

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soulmates

February 14 is St. Valentine’s Day when as the cliche goes, love triumphs above all. Today, I commit to digress from my brand of writing, in honor of somebody to whom I promised to write a topic about – soulmates. She asked me whether I believed in soulmates, by way of an answer, let me assay further….

 

More in depth in Classical Definition

 

“Plato wrote in his Symposium that humans have been looking for their soul mate ever since Zeus cut them in half. In his mythic story, Plato describes a world where there were men, women and people who were both men and women. Apparently, humans began discussing how they could climb up to heaven and replace the gods. The gods were upset by this and discussed what should be done. The simplest solution would be to destroy mankind, but Zeus came up with a better idea. He suggested cutting all human beings in half. This would serve two purposes. First, it would immediately double the number of people making offerings to the gods. Second, it would weaken the humans, so they would not be able to carry out their plan. Zeus’ idea was accepted, and the humans were all divided into two. Naturally, the humans were upset at this, and Zeus decided to enable each half to have intercourse with their opposite , symbolically creating a whole. Consequently, the males sought other males, the females other females, and the people who had been both male and female sought their other half, allowing population to reproduce.”¹ This concept is outlined in the modern musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch

 

New Age concept of soulmate

 

There is a prevalent concept in some segments of the New Age movement that some souls are literally made and/or fated to be the mates of each other, or to play certain other important roles in each others’ lives. These souls are thought to have created something in a past life and they have chosen this lifetime to help each other “heal.” Following this concept, one can have many soulmates. For example: One could see another person they have never met in this lifetime and instantly hate or love them because of previous interaction(s) with the other in one or more previous lifetimes. The most popular use of this concept is in applying it to those who were loved intimately in other lifetimes which were then found in this one.

 

Also, being conscious of the “soul mate connection” is not necessary, according to this idea.

 

Soulmate Emotional Destruction Theory

 

Ultimately the consequence of this notion is the unfortunate reality that soulmates often possess the ability to inflict serious emotional injury unto their twin flame, greater than any other being could. This often results in the separation of idealized love, due to the severe emotional impact. Many soulmates are destined for an eternal search, not for lack of meeting, but rather lack of acceptance. The encounter is often analogous to the collision of matter and antimatter, a violent explosive reaction will occur, but if held through to completion only pure energy, and thus harmony, will result. Unfortunately few encounters are held through to completion.

 

Eastern View

While the Greeks had the idea of soulmates as mythology, Eastern Philosophy, Hinduism more particularly, has believed in the idea of soulmates as something real and experiential. Man has many past lives, not necessarily as humans but as other forms of organism. In man’s quest for nirvana, that is, complete bliss, he undergoes the wheel of reincarnation, sometimes as a cricket, a frog, a cow, or as man. But the spirit behind this earthly manifestations is the same constant spirit in search for nirvana. In this wheel of reincarnation, the spirit , in one of its earthly lives, encountered its true mate, which due to temporary existence is cut short by death. But in future lives, as if by coincidence, the two constant spirits would meet in other bodily presence. Their past lives would be re-awakened in an instant as if two combustible materials ignite each other, and they identify and recognize each other. In that one particular lifetime, they realize that they are only complete in the presence and love for each other. But alas, their present circumstances may not be similar in their past lives, so the love for each other is muted and pounded in the arms of another person.

The deepest love of all has cosmological origin, and in the spread of eternity, that kind of love may not find fruition at all. But when these two spirits indeed meet but are trapped in different circumstances, in time and space, they still recognize their true love for each other, that kind of love that is not imprisoned in the flesh and circumstances, the love that springs eternal and magical.

The celebration of Valentine’s Day is not necessarily the celebration of true love, but the sanctity of the search itself.

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of dying and thereafter

 

      Last December 2, 2006, we attended the burial of my wife’s auncle. He was suffering for almost two years of cancer of the tongue. One month before he finally succumbed, he suffered a severe bleeding due to a rupture of one of the veins  caused in turn by the spread of the cancer cells.  When I saw him, I immediately called his brother, my father-in-law, and told him that within twenty four hours, his brother could expire. Actually, the prognosis of the doctor was that he would last for not more than seventy two hours.  Amazingly, he survived for another month. Thanks to a sheer will to live, to hang-on to dear life.

       During his last days, he would let the windows of the hospital open so that he could see the trees outside.  He would talk of going to his farm, and of doing his other routinary activities.  He would walk us through his previous triumphs and pains, and he intended to do more. His body was so emaciated in contrast to his once athletic physique.  Anytime then, he would expire.  Once, his eldest son Reno , asked him, “Dad, are you afraid to die?”   His unmistakable reply was a curt, “Yes”.

 

        During his burial,  my son who is still six years old, kept on asking why his “Papa Remy” was sleeping in the coffin.  I said, he is already dead, and would have to be buried soon.  As usual to a precocious child, I was bombarded with follow-up questions, as if I were  under cross-examination.  But the question that jolted me was ” What would happen now that he is dead?”  I could not answer . Otherwise, I would have to go to a long and unending discourse of the afterlife, which until now, I too am still grappling and searching for answers.

 

 

       When the coffin was finally lowered to the ground of his final rest, I noticed that my son shed a tear or two.  Other grandchildren also were teary eyed.  During the vigil and the church ceremony, these children were still playing and frolicking around, seemingly unmindful of the solemnity of the occasion.  Yet, at the final moment when the coffin was lowered to the ground, the same children who were playing were sobbing.  I asked my son why he cried, he retorted, “Should we leave him alone?”

 

        As a child, I was wondering what would happen after death.  “Physically, death must be very painful that I may expire in the process, ” so went my chilhood musing of death.  Is the afterlife, too dark, cold, and lonely?   Obviously, my son, gragarious and playful as he is, is concern more of the dead being alone in a dark grave than of the beyond.  As a child then,  the answers given to me only  raised more questions.  

 

       I have always been reflecting on death.  Are we afraid to die because we leave love ones and memories behind or is it because, life after is uncertain? 

 

        When I was in college, I majored in Philippine Studies and Philosophy, a recipe of challenging beliefs.  I was so enamored with eastern philosophy that I almost went to India for further studies, if not for my mother who wanted me to become a lawyer.  But by then, I lost  my catholic faith.  At the age of nineteen, I became a non-believer of Christ although I still believed then on the Supreme Being. (or was it the Universal Principle? Or Nirvana? Or the Great Cosmos)   In times of doubt, one thing becomes certain, uncertainty.

 

        During the period of doubts, the most nagging idea to me was about the afterlife.  I held on to many possibilies, that I was not certain of what death would mean.  Lately however, when I regained my christian faith, death to me is a painful process, of leaving the loved ones and the memories with them, for something, as the Bible promises, eternal life.

 

        Yet, even as I cling to christian teaching of the afterlife, I could not erase in my mind the other possibilities.  Afterall, no one has come from the dead to tell the living.  Somehow, the christian belief of the afterlife eases the burdens, clarifies some doubts, and give the dying fortitude in spirit to face the great beyond.

      Recent events though show that people abandon the present in favor of the  promise of bliss in afterlife.  They live for the beyond, while  smothering the here and now reality.  Terrorists would kill innocent people in the pursuit of the jihad, whatever the word means.  They may die in the process but that is of no moment so long as they go directly to the promise of paradise where they live in abundance, and they are surrounded by virgins whose  only duty is to satiate their pleasures.  There is too the christian teaching that  it is better for the poor man because he can enter the kingdom than the rich man.  Forget poverty, hunger, and malnourished children; the poor are sure to enter heaven.  People cease to live in the present.

 

        In his last days, Auncle Remy received the final christian rite, the annointment of the sick. Gradually,  he accepted death.  When he expired, he had a smile of serenity in his face.  Rightly so.  He died, but left the tracks of having raised a good family, made a loyal circle of friends, and contributed to the community.  These are things we would reminisce of him.  In the end, he had no more problem accepting life after death for although the road ahead would be ancertain, he lived a meaningful life on earth.  Although he had sights of the beyond, he did not cease to live the moment.

       It is precisely the truth that the afterlife is uncertain that we try to make our lives meaningful.  A good singer should sing, a boxer should know how to punch hard and fast, a lawyer should articulate the laws.  And what about me? I blog now because so long as the internet is around, my thoughts are forever recorded, and could be retrieved in the generations to come.  After all, when I take my last breath, I am not a mere speck in the stream of time anymore.  I made a difference.

 

        But faith in the afterlife somehow makes dying not too difficult to accept.  And if is the only way to ease the anguish of death, then I better hold on to it.  The alternative would only be more morbid.

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