Blessed.Wind

The Boy Who Lost His Kite

2012-01-19T12:47:00.001+08:00

One morning, a lazy kid got up in total defiance of his mom asking him to do some errands. Instead of going straight to the kitchen sink, he went out to play, he brought with him his favorite kite that he never misses to wipe clean, the strings are quite old but its not obvious cause of how he cared so much for it.

And so he danced, and jumped, and played with his kite. He did not noticed an open hole just in front of their yard. Before he knew it, he stepped into it, and there was darkness all over him. He tried to shout to call his mom, but he was too far out of reach even if anyone cared to listen to him. He sat down crying, with a wounded knee and a sore feet, he tried to inch slowly towards the rough stones that surrounded him.

He stayed there, cause he can't get up, and no one is listening to him. Then he remembered he still has his kite with him, it was a bit broken as well because of his disobedience, but he carried it into his arms.

Days went by without anyone noticing that he is missing, he is hungry, tired and all wet, stinky and dizzy, he looked at his kite, it was silently staying with him. But one day, the kite just disappeared while he was sleeping, he was not sure if a rodent carried it away. He is even sadder to be alone without his kite.

He misses his mom, his room.. and his kite..

What could he do, it was all because of his disobedience, now the wounds at his back is eating the whole of him. So he decided to sleep again, hoping that he would never see that dark hole where he is trapped. He cried alone, he cried silently, he cried without a word..and then it was dark..

"When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them"

Suddenly No One

2009-08-25T23:53:00.001+08:00

Brave steps lead me to the light
While the fallen dew glanced at her night
A broken arrow has failed to hit its mark
Passed the narrow streets in the dark

Arms raised in awe of your own embrace
Though my ears haven’t heard of such grace
I pity the shadow that slowly follows
The footsteps above a ground so shallow

Biting a nail in a crowded flair
A deafening applause from those who tried to care
One mischief after another
Behold the friends who do not even bother

A brother you are, or did you say?
That fathers and mothers ought not to play
Hide and seek, plain and meek
Like a stuttering poet, six times a week

Bless the one who gave me their peace
Praise the One who gave them as is
Now I’m the one who longs to be my own man
A lonely one, when suddenly no one

Remembering the Yellow Avenue

2009-08-03T21:59:00.002+08:00

It was 10 days before my 7th birthday, the first quarter of being a first grader. I remember running around our old compound like an adult who lost his Facebook password. Three of my aunts together with my mother are glued in front of the old 14” colored TV that the whole clan seems to own as their version of Times Square Cinemas.

For a young kid like me, it was just any other news that my family used to watch on a regular basis. Little did I know that the future of Philippine democracy is shaping up.. by virtue of the death of a certain Ninoy Aquino.

A few years later, after watching consecutive episodes of the Aug 21 tribute to the late opposition senator, I began to understand in my tiny brain that there is this bad person who is in power who is in one way or another, responsible for the death of the other good person.

He was jailed and exiled. In my young age I started to take interest on his speeches, his strong personality was enough to capture the minds of both young and old.
I remember watching on TV over and over again how he died, he was all white in a second then blood stained the next.

Eventually he became a hero. And he was survived by a wife who then became the next president; the catalyst of a united Filipino towards a new Philippines; the icon of change; the dawning of a new era of politics. She was Corazon Aquino.

Fast forward to the headlines a few days ago, the wife joined the husband in peace, and once again, the Filipinos were reunited on the same place were the battle tanks were peacefully halted. This time not to oust a dictator, but to pay respect to the person responsible for the ouster of a dictator in power.

The avenue that was once yellow in one voice against a power hungry leader is again yellow in one last respect to the person worthy of that respect.

The last time we saw the yellow avenue it was a battle between good and evil. The evil lost and the good prevailed against all odds. There is an “annoying” antagonist and a protagonist who holds the yellow flag of victory.

Would you mind if I say Deja vu?

“To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history”
Barrack Obama

Photo:http://fjsanchez.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/cory_aquino1.jpg

Former Opponent, Now My President

2008-11-05T07:38:00.000+08:00

John McCain's speech on Barack Obama's victory is as historic as the recently concluded race to the White House. How I wish the rest of the world would see him as a role model in accepting defeat.

2010 aspirants, kindly take note!

Uncommon Valor

2008-07-08T01:33:00.001+08:00

Twice the speed of the bullet that cut through a few inches away from the nose of the bleeding young soldier, his grasp of reality came as a whirlwind ride. The fuming sound of an incensed battlefield sang alternate chorus to his numbing ear. The mud on his worn out boots replaces the shining new pair that he once had before enlisting as a front liner. A gap between his nervous breath is less obvious as one by one he witnessed his fellow soldier bid goodbye to the dance of death that commenced a few hours earlier. It’s just him and a few rounds of his rifle; he dropped his blade on the swamp just across the enemy lines.

He was fighting for freedom, and so does his enemy.

Daily we are faced with a similar plot, we may have never stepped on a real battlefield but a hundred emails on a coffee break would yield similar bloody results. We may not cohered a platoon of defenders to watch our back but we are sunk deep amidst an array of nine to fivers bound on a rat race. Who will be the best rat? The highest paid rat? The most successful rat? The most influential rat?

If we call it a rat race, aren’t we all rats?

How do you find the bravest soldier? Is he in the battlefield? Or is he in command? I say neither, for there is one place that war has seldom define and less audacious to discuss. It is a place where night time does not make any difference with day time, where food is as scarce as hope, where water runs dry as much as the body does. Most of the time this is the place where brave soldiers get to meet one person alone – themselves.

Ever heard of P.O.W.s who made it home? Most of them can not tell the difference between the uncanny prison cell and their comfortable home, for in their hearts a certain prison cell exists.

Yes, sometimes the bravest of the fighters are those who sit still, the greatest irony of fighting is when you need to be at peace with yourself, knowing that braving it out with all your strength would just prove fatally useless, especially when you are instructed to “Be still”

The Bravest One took the nails, He could have blown the mob into kingdom come with a gentle whisper, He could have made the Roman soldiers look like useless match sticks, He could have held His hand high and then came a new earth, He could have just said one word and the equation of life will change drastically.

But He did not.

He chose the nails. Why?

For us, we should have been there; we should have been the one fighting for our life, reducing the fruit of our sins. We can’t take a staple for one, but praise God; we need not take anything else because He took it all.

Amazing Artistry Across the Evening Sky

2008-06-07T01:29:00.002+08:00

When I see the beauty of a sunset’s glory
Amazing artistry across the evening sky
When I feel the mystery of a distant galaxy
It awes and humbles me to be loved
By a God so high

Paul Baloche, Graham Kendrick

God so high, how high, its beyond space and distance. History may have taken great names with her, she might have changed great lives, but before God, history is just a blink of one moment of His faithful time.

The afternoon looms, with a pale warning of the night’s coming darkness. Everyone seems to be tired, the rest are enjoying the little strength left for them to hope, I’m caught in between.

The late Domino Harvey defined life as having three kinds of people, the rich, the poor and everyone else in between, could it be that there are three dimensions of life curved in a variation of wood labeled – destiny?

I don’t enjoy afternoons so much, it reminds of the coming darkness of night, I need to be reminded that it’s time to rest, the whole world sleeps at night, I might as well grab my own pillow and let the comfort of my soft bed consume my dilemmas.

It’s scary when enough’s not good enough. And when the well of inspiration perspired and dried up. It’s scary when you forget about tomorrow and the only timeline left in your agenda is now. It’s scary when the hours are numb, when the arrows are struck, when your fellows are foes and most of all when you follow the dark hole straight to the bottom of the food chain. Silently you realized you don’t have anything to eat, while everyone else can have you for dinner.

What can I do?

“Amazing artistry across the evening sky”, there’s something great about the evening sky after all.

“The mystery of the distant galaxy”, great minds would not quit labeling all the galaxies that they can think of, but the mystery is sweet when you owe it to one Great Creator.

“It awes and humbles me to be loved by a God so high”, a Great God not getting tired of oblivious pricks like the man in front of the mirror from where I’m standing – err! That’s me.

The last line of the song says:
“Now You’re making all things new by the power of Your risen life”

Praise God!

A Few Hours Past Tragedy

2008-05-08T23:19:00.002+08:00

I just had the greatest day of my life walking out of a recent tragedy. It’s not my own though and I would clearly agree there’s no such thing as “greatest” and “tragedy” piling up on the same line. You seldom see people smiling after a great loss; you seldom share laughter with people who are supposed to be in pain.

But I am a few hours past that encounter; we just visited a friend who has just recently experienced so great a loss that the usual remuneration would be a trip to the dark corner of your room, and emptiness that would out sleep your guts, a fiery silence that would harness the greatest questions out of life.

Maybe it is just a straightforward testimony of how the grace of God is really sufficient for all of us. No matter how big the waves you are facing, no matter how loud the lion roars, nothing beats a still, silent heart in utter knowledge that “God knows”.

I remember this phrase from a book that I scanned a few hours earlier; it talks about the atrocities that Christians in China are experiencing. It holds in full account how lives are shattered because of faith. A few words from a missionary that I did not have the luxury of time to know speak something like this.

“After knowing how the Christian converts are being arrested and harassed and harmed; we just lift the burden with ease to God, and knowing that He knows we are comforted in overcoming this great tragedy”

“Lift the burden with ease to God”

It’s close to impossible right? Clearly it's grace that enables anyone to face opposition with ease, to counter chaos with silence, to render truth calmly amidst a rage of fallacy.

Praise God for the opportunity to witness grace at work in other people’s lives. How wonderful our God is, how vast is His wisdom and provision that His purpose never fails. His sovereign will defy all other life-long scientific proven truths. The One who defied gravity has done great things, more than enough, just in time.

Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh: is there any thing too hard for me?
Jeremiah 32:27

A Hooligan’s Day Out

2008-05-07T08:24:00.004+08:00

Shock and awe, a group of intrepid looking men with blood on the tip of their fingers lurks on the foggy street of an unknown neighborhood. Behind them is a miniature gasping for life, seemingly hopeless but not. For the sake of the macabre influence of this writing, the blood belongs to that fading voice.

“Lord, do not hold this sin against them”

Just a few hours ago, the streets are filled with death-hungry people, in each of their hands were stones of different sizes. The sentence was meted out, this person deserves to die. According to the “law of the people”, he was a blasphemer. When in fact his only fault was that the “learned” Jews could not stand up against his wisdom or by the Spirit by whom he spoke.

He was among the seven whom the twelve disciples chose as full of the Spirit and wisdom. And amidst the accusations being thrown at him, his face looked like the face of an angel as all who were sitting on the Sanhedrin saw.

“Lord Jesus receive my spirit”

With all faith, knowing that the God he serves who has promised will never fail, he left his murderers with a genuine “shock and awe”. He spoke forgiveness, every moment of his last breath were spent with the blessing of forgiveness to each fiery hands that made sure his bones would crush, his skull would break open, his flesh would bleed, to all of this things even death, the crowd succeeded except for one.

They threw stones with one thing in mind, they thought Stephen would recommend them to Satan with a broken heart, but the opposite thing happened;

He spoke in behalf of all of them.

“Lord, do not hold this sin against them”

I remember a grudge that I had with a college pal, he said I was not good enough to reach the cyber world in front of the whole cyber community. I did not spoke to him for weeks. It’s a lame comparison I know, but that’s how I am when it comes to holding grudges to people who would oppose me. Yeah right, compared to Stephen I’m a hooligan and I took a day out when I remembered his story. In fact writing about it became more of an obstacle when it’s supposed to be a lesson to be learned.

Come to think of it, I reached the cyber world, still lame though.

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you
Lewis B. Smedes

Praise for His Grace in Place

2008-04-19T01:31:00.002+08:00

Tomorrow is not here yet in as much as last night was gone. A beacon of hope struck the wholeness of the unwavering white flag, clogged in frivolous masculine defeat. “Let us run the race with gladness”, the preacher says, “just give me enough time to stand up from my wheelchair of doubts”, the stalker of dead lilies replied.

The unfamiliar gloomy corner vacated through the years of despair is now well lit with a sumptuous lamp post that stood proud as if eternity is but a nod in casual conversations.

Leaving an empty chair behind you does not necessarily mean you quit sitting and preferred standing instead, it might be that the rest of your life you were sitting and just in time before you die in disappointment you realized that standing is a better option.

I remember a poor boy’s face back in the suburb of the “sin city” who refused to take his eyes of me unless I gave him a few bucks for food. Being expertly sinful and undoubtedly prideful, I spared him a few of what I have in my wallet. (I am a jobless freak before, wandering the streets of Magsaysay Drive waiting for the result of a band competition which me and my other jobless freak friends joined)

He was happy indeed, but not any happier that I am since I got plus points on my public acceptance rating because I have the whole gang with me actually giving compliments over what I did.

Oh well, some 15 years later, I don’t have any iota of an idea where and who that boy is but the truth still remains, being crowned with praises from my friends did not even assure me of at least half of the joy that I have when I received greater things in life not because I gave the poor boy money for food but because Someone loved that poor boy that He made sure someone would provide for the kid’s food. Unknowingly, I was too busy praising myself I did not even now I was just and instrument of His love to that little boy. And someday soon I would receive that love by grace.

A few more steps and life would be over for most of us; those who remained unfazed can not curse the generation who quit just because they are stronger. The earth remains a gathering of one big estranged happy family, everyone would remain to refuse to share the space that his feet occupies in the belief that the earth is too big for everyone. Let all human beings do what they please. As long as there is balance and harmony within the rest of the tenants.

The majority of us organic sinners could stand a mortal debate to appease the argument that indeed it is possible to live in harmony with all under a thinning ozone layer.

One word, one Name and He is above the ozone layer, I should say. And beyond that, in fact the earth is His footstool, heaven is His throne.

On the argument that life can be lived easily in a corporate effort to make it easy can be easily flat lined by a two syllable, eternal, incomparable, truth. Infinitely valuable than all of man’s reason combined, who can make available to assuming earthlings a massive force greater than Einstein’s Mass and Constant raised to two, in a twinkling of an eye. Yes, He defied gravity just to prove that He is over all of our greatest norms of computations.

I could write the greatest combination of the most beautiful adjectives this life has come up with but I would still fall short of describing who He really is. In fact, what I just wrote above is a lame comparison to how the angels can actually describe Him.

And the bible says the angels can not stop calling Him holy just once.

Can I just end my blog with the most beautiful name that I’ve known, He is the exalted One!

Jesus!

Finest Last Hour

2008-03-22T07:13:00.001+08:00

Approximately, I am breathing my 271,560^th hour on earth, exactly an hour ago, I don’t have any idea if this would be my last hour; give me another hour I would still be clueless. Is there anyone on earth who lived to tell about their last hour? That’s a mere impossibility, a dewdrop on planet Mars.

I know of One who did. Actually, it’s more of His followers who wrote about His last hour, who had full account on the finest hour that was set to alter even the human genome, it must have been the bloodiest obscenity witnessed both by His accusers and His friends. It must have been the most painful hour in the life of a mother, a mother who could only stare at her son, a mother who is the only one to distinguish between blood from tears by the look at her son’s eyes.

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachtani?”

It must have been puzzling for a Roman soldier to see the clouds turn dark as the earth shook; on the other hand, it must have been so sweet a sound of victory for heaven. The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. History just had its major overhaul; heaven was opened to those who would believe.

What a beautiful scene, the most beautiful Name on the earth lifted high, His finest last hour has paved way to eternity with Him, and man in his sinful nature can now spend eternity with the infinitely pure God. The nails were not able to hold Him for good, the wooden cross was not sturdy enough to carry Him, and the tomb was too small for Him.

I could only imagine.

Can it be pure joy to witness Jesus being taken up in the air?

Sadly, time took its toll. What was once a headliner in Jerusalem has suddenly become a trivial issue more so an object of mockery. The cross was reduced from being a symbol to a logo. A rock star’s emblem. A tattoo on the arm.

Man and his tragic kingdom. Seemingly boundless but feeble. A decade of reading books made man assume knowledge. It’s the glorious pretension of a life valued in carnal means. It’s god with a small “g”. It’s the self secured agenda of survival, its technology at it’s finest. It’s a matter of sixty years or more for the vegetarians. From natal to fatal. We all have one shot each. The earth might stay for another hundred years, but you?

Finest last hour, care to have yours?

The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

Matthew 28:5-7

Defying wounds

2008-03-11T08:48:00.003+08:00

Sorrow causes deep scars, and indelibly writes its story on the suffering heart. We never completely recover from our greatest grief and are never the same after having passed through them. Yet sorrow that is endured in the right spirit impacts our growth favorably and brings us a greater sense of compassion for others. 1

I remember watching war movies as a young kid, it completely reminds me of blood, sweat and tears that mark the courageous and separate the weak and hopeless from those who kill for freedom. Little did I know that those who took part in these real-life dramas have one thing in common, they are wounded not only by a raging bullet but by the sorrows of losing their loved ones and contributing to the lost of others too.

I could only imagine what goes on inside the head of those on the frontlines. Those who seldom run for cover but provide covering for their nation, those soldiers who take pleasure in being wounded and half-killed just for that opportunity to have their flag waved at the end of the battlefield instead of their opponent’s.

The war has ended for the majority and the world is left with veterans who are fighting a different war nowadays. A war to overcome the grief of living the rest of their lives in wheel chairs, to not be able to tell stories to their grand children because they would just either hate them or ignore them, to feel the neglect of the society they once fought for, and to witness their own nation being sold back to their former enemies by virtue of the greed of hierarchical thieves that permeate the ruling kind.

Today, as we fight for trivial opportunities to live an extra day, to gain that extra “hits” on our websites, to be forgiven by those we hurt, to take center stage in the cinematic portfolio of “ingenuities”, to speak good to those who enslave us in a 9-5 routine, to endure a long download time on the internet, to earn big cash in exchange for lost dignity on spotlight vis-à-vis a blabbering game show host, to spend the next precious minutes of our lifetime in the public court of humiliation, to have our blogs read by as much people - aren’t we soldiers ourselves? And if we are soldiers in our own ranks, are we prepared for our own wounds of sorrows?

I would like to emphasize on the above paragraph, “We never completely recover from our greatest grief and are never the same after having passed through them”, if this is true then we could safely proceed to the last sentence of the same paragraph, “Yet sorrow that is endured in the right spirit impacts our growth favorably…”.

Dear friend, it only takes a right spirit to burn the bridge of sorrow, besides it’s really supposed to be a bridge so you better take that one big step to move on and conquer the land of hope that is set before you. Yes, you will never completely recover but you have passed through them already and it’s high time to endure it.

Then the LORD said to Moses, "Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on.” Exodus 14:15

Notes:

1. L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert, 1997 Zondervan Corp, pp 108

In the eyes of a dying loved one

2008-03-04T00:48:00.005+08:00

“When I die, I want you to move on with life, I want you to discover the joy of life in someone else’s arms, promise me you’ll take care of yourself”

“Why are you telling me that? Are you tired of living already?”

“No, because you’re getting tired of watching me live my last”

I seldom appreciate drama flicks from back home, more so the hapless clichés of a beautiful lady dying and leaving behind her teary eyed boyfriend, and if he’s not so lucky at all he gets hit by a car and dies a more horrible death.

I think, as long as there is a need to emphasize on the science of undying love, someone always needs to die. One great irony that I am really used to watching in my dire attempt to kill my boredom especially when there’s not much project to do and the books on my shelf becomes too heavy for me to take.

One day while staying late for work, I decided to grab a cup of coffee and turned the TV on (yes, that’s how freak of a workaholic I am, coffee makes me sleep after long hours of working). Then I saw this flick that I really would not find interesting at all on a normal blood pressure, but the coffee was too hot for me, so I was glued to the boob tube for the next hour watching a cancer stricken bachelor falling in love with the nurse who takes care of him. Eventually they were married, alongside with the usual conflicts; they got through for a couple of years. What makes me frozen in the brown sofa that I was sitting (I had my ear phones on since it was really very late) was the scene where the nurse cries in hopelessness as her prince is breathing his last, he even uttered a brave question, “how do you plan to move on?”, and in all honesty, she replied in tears, “I don’t know”.

How much love could anyone give to let someone else live? I’m very sure if there’s one thing on earth that the lady nurse would do is to love her man to the point of him living, but what could she do? She’s a mere mortal, that one day she would end up dying also. That’s the sick cycle of humanity, living, loving and dying.

I can not help but remember one great story of death and life. Suspended in mid-air, parched in blood, the darkening of the clouds is none compared to what His eyes are seeing, His whole mortal body is minutes away from giving up, before that final stare to His Father in heaven, He looks down on those whom He loved, “I want you to live forever”

Yes, each and everyone of us will die, good for you if you would have at least half of your friends on your social networking site gathering before your casket, and as long as we are living, we are continually loving someone else, but not long enough, for we do not live forever – yet. The one they call Christ, who died on the cross thousands of years ago offered one great gift, no need to toss the coin, no need to consult the other half of your doubts, no need to write an inspiring blog, it is simple. He sealed it with His own blood, BELIEVE AND YOU WILL HAVE LIFE!

Dilapidated Poetry

2008-02-27T01:48:00.000+08:00

When life becomes time consuming, you began to lose time. When time becomes life consuming, you began to lose life.

After a while, no, more than a while of experimenting on a future expedition, a couple of laptops on perpendicular tables will not do the trick for now. The dim lit wall opposite a wooden chair will not make it to the sullen walls seen only on dreams.

When the books you used to read become foreign objects floating on a far horizon, you surely miss the goal of protruding wisdom, of sensible behaviors and of a lighted candle, all in exchange of the macabre, Swiss army knife solutions of your life puzzle.

It does not take a mob to figure out that your crashing your head on the concrete pavement; it only takes a mirror and a cup of honesty. Even the youngest orphan on the block could teach you a lesson on adulthood, if you would only listen to his dreams.

I seldom see a patriarch on his knees begging for fatherhood; on the contrary it is difficult to find a warlord begging for peace.

It is just a matter of missing the keys, that’s all.

The Unsuccessful Throne of a Fleabrain

2008-01-29T01:00:00.000+08:00

An old fable tells of an elephant lumbering across a wooden bridge suspended over a ravine. As the big animal crossed over the worn-out structure, it creaked and groaned under the elephant’s weight. When he reached the other side, a flea that had nestled itself in the elephant’s ear proclaimed, “Boy did we shake that bridge!”1

The flea had done nothing; the elephant had done all the work, if there’s any contribution from the flea enough to shake the bridge is the weight of his pride.

If there’s anything in common about all human beings aside from their breathe is a sheet of paper lodged on their forehead with these words, “Look at me.” And with the digitized age, it became so rampant and as usual as a blink of an eye, it has been a ploy hidden under a comfortable cloth of community plumbing.

“Success begets amnesia and sabotages the memories of the successful”2, penned Max Lucado. And as we rise up with what we do best, all of us become qualified of a throne, but the problem with this throne is that there’s something about it that makes us fall. There’s an eject button hidden somewhere that when we become too comfortable with the attention we are getting, we find ourselves perched in mid-air, a few seconds away from hitting rock bottom. And we could only hold memories of our success advertising no one but ourselves.

“Riches and honor come from God alone, for God rules over everything. Power and might are in His hand, and it is God’s discretion that people are made great and given strength”3

Wow! What does that speak about? We are successful to make Him known, to reflect like mirrors the brightness of Jesus. Why are we good at what we do? Comfort and self-esteem? Not so much. Consider these as bonuses not the reason. We are good at what we do for God’s sake.

It is not about the farmer that there are good crops, it about the Maker of the farmer. It is not about a good lens that makes a good shot, it is about the Artist of the Universe. It is not about a good blog that words inspire, it is about the One who said “Let there be light” before all words come to be. It is not about us, it is about God. He makes us excel to make him known.

How I wish I quit being a fleabrain. Right now!

Notes:

1. Max Lucado, It's Not About Me, pp 149, Integrity Publishers Inc. 2004

2.Max Lucado, It's Not About Me, pp 149, Integrity Publishers Inc. 2004

3. 1 Chronicles 29:12

A Parrot’s Parody

2008-01-21T11:07:00.000+08:00

With a fresh breeze of April’s north wind, I struggled to keep my feathers from being clipped. The sight of the laymen trying to catch up with my flawless acrobatic stunt from my cage to the veranda back to the apricot tree made them look like senile creatures in search for justice. Why can’t they overpower a parakeet?

Well I have to leave them the way they are. A hopeless generation of trials and errors. The view from the peak of this old tree is nothing less than microscopic, all I see are fugitives caught in a knight’s tale, they clothe themselves with iron-clad jeans and velvet dripped vest. Indeed it is so colorful I almost forgot I have better choice of colors than them. Just a while ago I was watching them from my cage, living at the mercy of their time management, I almost die of hunger before getting a few crumbs of whatever it is in that small yellow cylinder. They laugh at me every time I get the chance to say “good morning fellow!” four times in a row. What’s wrong with that? my boss taught me those words. How in the world would I know what that means?

The usual day for me is a series of left-right, left-right movement of what else but my beak? The kids would stare at me before going to school and throw a very humane encouragement at me, they are so gracious they always have that serious stare at the nare just below my cere before exploding into a theatrical caucus, “Ugly parrot looking like a mascot!” And then they would just dance their way off.

Those are small time unfavorable merits of being a flying creature with a healthy rostrum. Forget it. I’m at the top of my lungs now, it’s payback time. You can try to climb my peak but I would just let you a few inch near me and I would fly with the wind. I could go places that I could own, you can not put me in a cage anymore.

Enough of my farewell speech, I’m definitely ecstatic of a proud glide to the other side of this doomsday castle.

I see different flowers, more colorful than the one near my rust-filled cage. The smell of freedom is just so liberating I could hop in and out of these lovely trees.

Pause.

I’m dizzy. I’m dizz…

“It’s a hit, we got that stupid bird, don’t tell your brother we used his slingshot, he’ll be angry at us, you know him.”

“It is for freedom that Christ set has set us free. Stand firm, then and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery”
Galatians 5:1

The difficulties of our lives are not our cage, what binds us from going out is actually covering us from being hurt. Even the furnace of fire was an awesome display of God’s glory. The lion’s den, a stroke of His sovereign power. And the cross, it was not so pleasing to the eyes, the wood that was used for it was not even of the highest kind but it has a blade so sharp it cut the temple curtain from top to bottom.

Whatever and wherever you are right now, it is a canvass-perfect moment to display His glory!

The Thief That Was I

2008-01-17T23:55:00.000+08:00

Inspired by Luke 23:26-43

Just above my sun-burnt forehead, the heat of the sun settles to the west and my body weary of a week’s travel starts to transform into a pain cushion that leaves no room for comfort. Even sleep was not in my agenda. Before me is a table covered with crumbs that were left over from a festive meal of edible grass and warm water. I should not be hungry anymore; I am filled to the bin. I made sure that the money from the purse that I have stolen from that old lady would buy me enough food for the day. I’m sure it did.

My palms are still covered with blood; I hope the blind man still has air to breathe even if it’s colorless. I did not mean to hurt him, the little boy with him was so angry with me but I could not hurt a little boy, how could I?

I was at their court to steal their livestock, nothing more. It’s as simple as that. I made so much noise after hitting the old man’s head with an iron rod, the people came running towards me, I have no time to spare.

Maybe that is why I am so tired; yes I was running like mad, I don’t know where I am heading I just need to leave the crowd and head for my life. Is it my fault that I was born to a poor family? At the age of five, I started stealing for food, my father was not home and my mother came looking for him. I remember that was the last time I saw them both.

It was more than thirty years and still I have to steal to earn an extra day, an extra foothold, another pair of sunrise and sunset, I lost count of the people I hurt and stole from.

Suddenly, I heard a voice, “I am thirsty!” I opened my eyes, it was all just a dream, my life was in front of me for a few minutes that my eyes were closed. And now I am facing reality, I hung helplessly on a wooden cross. In front of me is an audience who is mocking me…no! not me, I was wrong, I am not the object of their mockery, it is this man beside me. They called him the King of the Jews, why do all the people in this rotten hill hate him so much? I can’t see anything wrong with him.

His face is covered with blood, I can’t differentiate between the thorns and his eyebrows, his dry lips was covered with bleeding skin, it must have been where his beard and mustache was before the people stripped it like a wild grass. Blood, so much blood! The more blood drips from his body, the more the crowd slanders him. I looked at his feet, the nails that glued it to the wood almost shattered his feet. I am not sure what’s keeping him alive. I know how rough the wood is. I can feel it in my back. But his back is barely hiding his inner skin. I can’t stand the sight of it. With so much pain I am witnessing I can not feel my own pain.

But what is this that I see in his eyes?

Amidst the near fatal wounds exposed in the heat of the sun and with the loud noise of the crowd, I saw something in his eyes; it’s the last thing that you would see in places like this. In people like him on his death cross. A calming peace. Like a thousand voltage of lightning, his kindness struck my heart with unexplainable impact – it brought me to repentance. I was about to ask his name when the man on his other side, also on the cross spoke bluntly; “Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!” I shouted back at my fellow thief “Don't you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Then I turned to the man in between us, the Lamb of God, the Messiah; with a soft voice, with all the strength left in my body and with His kind stare that led me to repentance, I told Him these words “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Before all the memoirs of my past sin turns into tears, I heard a Father’s voice, a Shepherd’s call, a Friend’s assurance – “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

I closed my eyes in blessed assurance, eternity now awaits me, I don’t know how, but this Man did it all for me. And now the blood the covers His whole body wrote silently these words in my heart “I did this for you my child”

Amazing grace, How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, But now am found

Was blind but now I see

John Newton

The stones that missed their target

2008-01-09T17:59:00.000+08:00

Aquel de ustedes que esté libre de pecado, que tire la primera piedra.1

A young woman was passionately caught in a sculpture of akarthasia, exchanging illicit vows with a stranger in the form of a collage of whispers and smiles. The room was poorly lit, and these two souls thought they had the world all by themselves, right across from where they share a guiltless act lays a lamp on a table desperately keeping its composure not to dance with the visual vibrato that its light is witnessing. And almost a glimpse of a moment before catching their last breathe for the night, the thunderous waves of footsteps from an unruly crowd banishes the dark alley of the narrow, dusty road leading to their small shanty. And before the young woman and her “friend” become aware of it, a group of scribes and Pharisees along with their apprentices where at the shanty’s doorstep. “Get her!” And before she could figure out why all eyes are on her alone, she was savaged.

One of the men who is well-built, standing more than six feet in height grabbed her by her soft petite arm, giving her no time to even pick up a piece of cloth to cover her nakedness. Another held her by her tired feet. Still another snatches the curly hair above her nape.

She was beamed from a dim-lit room to a well-lit lamp post on the public alley. With all the people shouting she did not know who to listen to, she did not know what they are grunting about but she was more than sure these people are angry at her. Why not? The young man she left was not her husband, and so is the man last night and the other night. Right now, the people started counting her faults one by one.

The only thing covering her flesh aside from her hair are her tears, still it was not enough to give her a descent clothing but its all she could do right now. She was thankful for the grainy soil that covered her knees; suddenly she noticed she was bleeding. It might be because she was banged on one of the concrete walls while being carried by the angry men, it does not matter where the bleeding came from, she can’t feel any pain at this moment.

The noise slowly subsides, as one of the Pharisees steps forward, he began to present her case to the Teacher.

“Teacher, they said, This woman has been caught in the very act of adultery. Now Moses in the Law commanded us that such women shall be stoned to death. But what do You say?”2

As if this Pharisee is all knowing and with utter concern about the law, he only asked the question for one reason only; to try to find a charge on which to accuse the Teacher who came back to the temple from the Mount of Olives. With a pulsating grin, the Pharisee was expecting a buzzer beating shot that he made rendering the Teacher utterly powerless. But the Pharisee was wrong, in all his life of knowledge of the scripture, he was never right about this Teacher.

“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”3

Silence. Stones dropping down one by one on the ground, just a few inch away from each of the accuser’s feet. Until no one is holding a stone anymore. All the stones missed their target.

“Who is this man?”, the young woman asked herself. “I am very sure I have sinned, but who is this man with such powerful words?, no one ever treated me this way before. No one ever sided with a filthy rag, especially in a community of the elect and religious”

She has so many questions to ask herself, she did not noticed it was only her and the Teacher that is left on the once crowded court. And before she could utter one more challenge on her thoughts, she was totally silenced by the redeeming words that this kind Carpenter is about to say;

“I do not condemn you, go and sin no more”4

She was never this bare in front of anyone before, countless men have seen her inner most skin but this Man standing in front of her saw pass through all that, He saw her heart, He looked at her as a living soul and with the almost eternal hatred that she earned from all the people around her, she now has a sure eternal life ahead of her. She can’t wait to stand up and tell the world about Him. She knew from her heart, this is the last time that she would go in that dim-lit room again. She would stop walking in the dark and will have the Light which is life.5

I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions for My own sake; And I will not remember your sins.6

Even the seemingly most blessed and clean life has some skeletons under the closet, all of us are filthy rags no one righteous, not a single one. 7

Our failures are not fatal. 8

God’s amazing redeeming power can take tragedies and injustices in our lives and turn them into precious eternal victories. 9

Notes:

1. Juan 8:7 Nueva Versión Internacional

2. John 8:5 NIV

3. John 8:7 NIV

4. John 8:11 NIV

5. John 8:12 NIV

6. Isaiah 43:25 NIV

7. Cedartone

8. Max Lucado, Six Hours One Friday, 1989, Multnomah Publishers, Inc.

9. Tommy Walker, He Knows My Name, 2004, Regal Books, pp 29

Desperate for Light

2008-01-03T22:12:00.000+08:00

So much familiar with afternoons, it’s a sign that the evening is coming. It tells us that in a few moments the light of the sun will leave us with a mere reflection of its light on the moon.

Life has its afternoons, especially made for failure-prone creatures. For sinful-by-nature beings. For the self-loving, godless society. Afternoons are always here to remind us that days turn into nights; the strong would yield to a good night’s rest, the poet would write his last words and close the last page of his own resume.

How many of us have been through the same road for the nth time around? How many failures does it take to believe that it’s the last one? How much anger would it spell to realize the undeserved kindness of God aiming at our combatant heart? Is that your last stare? Is that your last glimpse? Does your tongue have enough to sting? How about your neighbor? Does he remind you that you are not alone? That sometimes it’s ok to be silent when they are talking? Who do you have to reason with? That person in the mirror? Isn’t it you? The same old you?

Oh yes, indeed time is inadequate for you to get your portion of the land of smiles and triumphs. The more you count time, the more you lose it. The more you gain access to friends, the more you become alone. Ironies of all ironies, it’s not about the numbers that would make you a better person or a lesser failure if we would go by our definition of man. It’s always the heart that dictates your direction, and a heart without God is aimlessly pursuing nothing.

How come there is still a road ahead for those who wane? It’s all grace that gave your feet the ground it stands, it’s all grace that provided words in your lips after your worthless promises. It’s all grace that shed light on your dark face. But where would you go after the long run when time catches up on you again?

When was the last time you prayed? No I mean the last time your heart talked to God? Prayers can be part of a daily routine, but not all prayers have heart. I can’t stop meddling with man’s futile attempt to live in peace yet end up the opposite. Who failed where and when?

I am not sure. One thing I am sure about is we are not called to fail. Though we are doomed to fail because we are not anywhere near God’s standard, Christ loved us best when we were a failure. He died for all of us even when we are yet sinners. And His grace abounds. Suddenly we become undeserving pricks that even if we fail a thousand times, God has a thousand and one ways of His kindness leading us to repentance.

Wake up sleeping soul, the Lord is mighty to save. There are great battles to be won for His kingdom, and those battles that you can not win for yourself, He already won it all. Don’t even try to outsource your own will to alter His love. It’s there forever regardless if you are or if you are not.

Now evening falls, you become desperate for light. Just try to get some sleep. That’s all you can do when the sun sets in.

About your failures! Never mind if you think you are unable to take another step after all these, for either He will strengthen you to make you able, or He will call a sudden halt, and you will not have to take it all.1

Sleep. Just sleep.

Notes:
1. Frances Ridley Havergal, Streams in the Desert, pp16, Copyright 1925 by the Zondervan Corp.

Love Minus Zero/No limit

2008-01-01T23:37:00.000+08:00

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

Once labeled as a great American poet, Robert Allen Zimmerman (Jewish name: Zushe ben Avraham) has been a major figure in popular music for five decades. His music started more than ten years before I breath the first air on my nostrils.

On my early childhood days, growing up on a poverty stricken suburb, it’s very unusual for me to grow up with his songs reverberating on the four corners of our house, all coming from an old turn table which I used to play with my sesame street toys. Even after a good spanking from tatay, I had the signs of stubbornness at a young age, I still put my two inches Bert and Ernie toys opposite each other and just be amazed as they go round in circles. Eventually messing up my tatay’s” LP.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

Only a few of his followers know his real name, but to the rest of us he is known as Bob Dylan. As far as I can remember, I often loath hearing his songs, which for me was nothing but noise. And at a young age, though exposed to reading English books, I could not fathom why a singer could write songs almost the size of a book.

Yes, for me he was just a singer then. One of those whom I hear over the radio, almost everywhere. But I was not aware, parallel to me growing up on different challenges of life, this complicated crooner is shaping up the history of music.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

Fast forward to the years where there was a bulging fascination in my heart to poetry, I slowly began to appreciate the stroke of his pen, the imagination of beauty that Bob has, that I believe no one else among his echelon could match.

Pure art, that’s the best way I could describe his songs. Long before I started listening to Steven Curtis Chapman’s anointed lyricism, I was already deep into Bob’s lyrical genius.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

To my surprise, on one of John Piper’s book that I just recently finished (Don’t waste your life) He quoted Bob’s song in the early chapter. Which only proves that Bob Dylan’s music traverses different cultures, anyone does not need to be someone to be able to appreciate his music. His contributions to popular music and the words he penned for five decades has inspired people from different races.

On my way to sleep, I just got reminded of this song, searched for the complete lyrics and while reading and listening to it. I got inspired to write about his music.

So if you’re into definitive poetry and music, key in these words on the search box of YouTube and Google and just try to check out a few of his songs – Bob Dylan.

Blog # 50: Leaving 2007 with 8 fingers

2008-01-01T00:31:00.000+08:00

I was thinking what would make this blog entry different, if not special from the rest of my entries this year. So the title says so. Yes. This blog entry is done with 8 fingers only. A few hours ago on a dinner gathering with my fellow brethren, the boys challenged each other’s strength on the hard court. We ended up playing a friendly game with a few locals that where already on the court when we arrived. I wish to describe the action-packed court hustle we had but my left hand is in pain. I could not type so much words like I could this past year.

This is the simplest way I could describe it, I was not expecting the blind pass from my team mate and before I knew it, my pinky finger got hit and it almost broke in two. It’s so painful I could not feel it hehehe. Not after the game when its already dinner time, my finger is already red in pain. One of my friends have to strap two of my fingers to give the injured one a rest. Free from pressure. No movement. But out of a stubborn will to catch up with this blog entry on new year, here I go again.

Well have to end this entry before I end up having to say goodbye to my small finger too. It’s still in pain as I end this blog.

Welcome 2008, it’s a pleasure to write one last entry this year with eight fingers left.

I hope to weave the next words with ten fingers already. Tomorrow morning, they plan to have another game. This time, I have to sit it out on the bench. And gaze at the athletic animation that the rest of the gang could share.

I still thank God though, my right hand is still intact and is more than able to hold my cam’s shutter to capture great moments that my brethren are celebrating.

Kindly pray for my left pinky finger, I miss typing with my both hands.

Sleeveless Errands

2007-12-31T10:30:00.000+08:00

This is the second article that I wrote for an OFW magazine based in Singapore, actually I wrote this early December, and I remember writing about Christ coming from the manger to the cross. The publisher instead asked me to write about the New Year. And so I scrubbed my eyebrows to rush for this topic and the gracious Lord has provided that I be able to come up with this. And now I want to share this to all of you. May all of us be blessed with the coming year as God has faithfully desired to bless each one of us.

A few more tick of the clock and it's high time to look back to the past. The past 365 days at least.. A vast majority of people “once again” would come up with a long list of hopeful wishes. We plan to resolve issues by ourselves, never mind if it would be a replica of last year's agenda. What's important is to make that promise again and try our best to make it better this year.

One popular website lists the top 10 New Year's resolution that we mortal beings make. Topping the list is “Spending more time with family and friends”. The list is a result of polls conducted by different organizations and they have figures to prove that people really come up with these resolutions¹. Analyzing the list makes you think that man, in reality has age-old disappointments in life. We are prone to “miss the mark” or “not meet the line”. As long as our sanity could hold, we have a tendency to fail ourselves.

Then the 31^st of December comes, we are shocked to look at a blank sheet of data, we found out that the only effort we made in relation to these promises is to make a list of them. And then you sit on a table with a new sheet of paper to list a new set of resolutions, you could only say to yourself, “How come I miss that one?”

But why? It is not so difficult to do after all. It is not a life and death situation, it does not take a full armor to resist life's buoyant charisma, you don't need a surgeon to always remind you what smoking and drinking could do to the sensitive tissues of your body. And it only takes a mirror to realize that you need to tame that bulge tucked in your pants in favor of your belt. There are things called, paychecks, payslips, its printed clear for you to see, how come you always spend more than you have?

C.S. Lewis wrote, “We would have never promised to do things if we would have known how busy we would be. And all human beings have this curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way and can not really get rid of it.”²

Can it be true? That the more we understand our being, the more we become tolerant of these behaviors? Or is there Someone in the center of it all who made all things for our enjoyment yet we shun from Him. Going back to the second question of this paragraph, can humans, which are mere creations grasp the thought of the Creator?

Maybe if we would have known that we are created for a purpose, that we could not make it through a minute of this life with pure thoughts, maybe we would instead leave all things in one table and let Him who owns all do all the repairing for us. Maybe through that we would realize that there is no such thing as hopeless – only Godless.

Another year wasted you would say.

I have good news for you, the bible says “In Christ all things hold together”^3.Steven Curtis Chapman wrote, “There's a wonder in the here and now, it's right there in front of you. This is the only moment that we could do anything about”⁴

So the next time you would think of writing a new list of To-Dos, take it from the Best Man that ever lived, “Apart from Me you can do nothing”⁵

Notes:

http://pittsburgh.about.com/od/holidays/tp/resolutions.htm
CS Lewis, pp 7-8, “Mere Christianity”.. CS Lewis Pte Ltd. 1942
Colossians 1:17 NIV
Steven Curtis Chapman, “Miracle of the Moment”. Sparrow Songs, Peach Hill Songs 2007
John 15:5 NIV

Jesus is best CEO-type leader, says new S Korean leader

2007-12-30T00:27:00.000+08:00

On my way to Mandalai Drive this morning, I got a copy of Today Online, a free newspaper from Mediacorp. While browsing the pages of the newspaper. The name of Jesus in bold letters on top of one of the pages caught my attention. This is indeed good news.

It's past midnight now, and I made sure I would be able to post a copy of this article to my blogsite. Well, here it is. The following section is published on Today Online, pp 22, December 29,2007, Saturday. Be blessed!

SEOUL — South Korea’s President-elect Lee Myung Bak , a former business CEO, has described Jesus Christ as “the best model of a CEO-type leader”. Mr Lee, 66, made the statement during a prayer meeting on Thursday at Seoul’s Somang Church where he serves as a Presbyterian elder, his aide Kim Heon Jin said.

“I’ve said I will become a CEO-type leader but, actually, the best model of a CEO-type leader was Jesus Christ,” Mr Lee said. “Two millennia ago, Jesus showed a leadership of service by
washing the feet of his disciples.

“Likewise, I will do my own best, serving the people.” Mr Lee wanted to stress his desire to become a president devoted to working for the people, the aide said. A former chief executive of the Hyundai group, Mr Lee has pledged to revitalise the economy. He faces a criminal inquiry into his alleged links to a 2001 share manipulation fraud. He denies wrongdoing and was cleared by an earlier investigation.

About one in four of the population, or 13.7 million South Koreans, are Christians, according to the National Statistical Office.

AFP

A pair of slippers for tired feet

2007-12-29T00:22:00.000+08:00

On a desolate land fronting a majestic castle, footprints of despairing hope marks the pathway to the entrance gate. Numb as a beetle, the once robust shoulders became a yoke of failure. The proud hands could no longer wave boastfully but could only silently trace the rugged walls to the steel opening. After a few tries, the solemn shadow was successful in opening the doors, slowly, unlike the way he did when he left this castle.

It was not so long ago when he decided to make a mark of his own. To live life and enjoy everything at the expense of his father’s riches. Beautiful women collide with a delightful feast of his favorite foods. Expensive jewelries adorn his mortal body making him like the King of Egypt. Feasting as if it’s his last breath. Not looking back nor staring forward, he is stuck in a limbo of dancing dreams. His hopes where nowhere to be found, having everything in his hands. He thought glory went home to his heart and his pockets could spell anything that he wants.

Unfortunately he was wrong.

Not until he found himself eating with swines. Not until he could not figure out the difference between his sweat and his tears, especially if it’s on the tip of his tongues. Not until the silk that covers his soft skin became garments that even snakes would refuse to wear. How long did it take before the sky kissed the ground? Where are his friends who drank pure wine with him? There’s one, he looked familiar. Yes, it was the man on the bar. He spent so much money for that man’s drink. And that lady in black, she was all over her last night.

But what was in their eyes?

Don’t they know him? Have they forgotten the same man whom they shared high spirits on a single table?

It’s too late. They took off already. Back to the swine.

He never had eye contact with a pig before, nor did he notice that when pigs eat, it doesn’t matter where it came from. They just swallow every thing that their mouth could take. And as he was more than familiarized with their smell and the touch of their skin. He remembered one thing.

Yes, he remembered he has a father. He could ask his father to make him his slave at least he could have a nice place to sleep. Surely, his father can’t forgive him, but he could hire him as a servant to their household.

It was a long walk from town. Now he is finally in front of their house. Expecting the claws of his father’s rage and mimicking a hopeless dove in front of a blazing furnace, he walks slowly. The silence of the mist that surrounds their garden is music to his ears. He thought there was no one home that time, it was very calm. Why not? It was the late hour of the night. Everybody must be asleep. He starts to turn his back, and decides to come back tomorrow. As he takes the first step towards the gate, he heard a rushing sound of feet pounding the ground, with utmost desire to reach him, it was someone running. The sound gets louder as the feet gets closer; he could hear the hard breathing on that person’s chest. He could be wrong; tears are starting to cover his cheeks. He is too ashamed to look at the person’s face. Until the running stops, the hard breathing is now covering his own chest, why could he not move? Because there was a tight embrace wrapping his frail body. He could not take it anymore. He lifted his head to see his father’s eyes. And before he could speak one single word, all his strength was chastised by one single word from his father’s lips. “Son”

They shared a few steps towards the house, and it was only now that he noticed he was not wearing any slippers. He saw his father looking at his dirt worn feet. Smiling at him, his father said….

"Here is a pair of slippers for your tired feet my son!"

"I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more."

Isaiah 43:25 (Today’s New International Version)

The Amazing Stolen Shot of a Ribcage in Distress

2007-12-25T23:20:00.000+08:00

(Diagnosis: Over reaction to seven cups of coffee on Christmas Day)

Vanities of all vanities, in vain profanity
Curse is the idle mentality of its stubborn duplicity
A duel to a mile, as cruel as the Nile
With utmost desire to shun what is vile

In a populace of wise counsel, learning faster than a camel
A collage of gray and leather, has left the soul to wander
The ancient recipe of life’s mediocrity
Has transformed pity to a romantic atrocity

Maybe now, Maybe then, surely it could also be
A matter of honesty to prove that which is fallacy
A sand or a stone, could both be your tomb
Either of whom, you leave your mother’s womb

Climbing your Everest with only a vest on your chest
Rewriting the questions of your difficult quest
Hypodermic and losing eyesight within hindsight
A chill on your opposite right has left you dead tight

Crave for the fellow who wears your old yellow
Ask for the scaffold that held your feet low
Beside a building of miniature gambling
Is an ugly duckling that ate your spoiled dumpling

Oh laughter must end where letters could bend
With words you could lend when you could not pretend
That your bed is not fit to replace a thousand bulbs lit
When your eyes are knit to the place where you sit and eat

Never again will I take much caffeine
More than the drain that my friend has taken
So I would not write again, about a called curtain
Now I travel on a sleepy train, with this last word written 11:16

More than conquerors

2007-12-18T11:40:00.000+08:00

There is no time for coffee break in war. Those who are quite idle get hit by stray bullets. And after the noise died down and groans of bleeding pain substitute the acrobatic fighting skills of opposing forces, the ground is left with with two kinds of warriors, the defeated and the conquerors.

I could go on writing about how graphic war could be but I could only pick up the words from those old war movies which I used to watch. As much as opposing nations could only say they are protecting their country at the end of a barrel of a loaded gun, in the same way I could only say that the only inevitable things about war is blood, sweat and tears. Though the joker would complain about the thief who took his sense of humor, there is nothing he can prove that indeed, he is only a joker and not a thief himself. Though the soldier would complain about the enemy who took his dreams away through a gunshot wound on his limbs, there is nothing he can prove that indeed he is only a soldier and not an enemy himself.

There could be a life-long debate to who the real enemy is when people are at war. Soldiers are paid to "protect" a better word to substitute for "kill". Battalion commanders gives order to destroy and conquer, fleet soldiers give bullets to survive.

Christians with only an armor of faith to shield their frail bodies have their own share of going into war. But they hold a bigger price tag at the end of the battle, they are called "more than conquerors".

The first few paragraphs of my article is just an introduction to the words that I really wanted to share, though I try my very best, I could not give justice to the person who wrote the following paragraphs. But still, In my own little way, I wish to share the inspiration that this writer have long been giving to people of all walks of life. To the weak and to the strong, to the poor and to the rich. To the lost who stood at the end of their line just to find hope carrying his burdens. The writer started with this verse;

"In all these things we are more than conquerors1"

"The gospel and the gift of God are structured so wonderfully that the very enemies and forces that are marshaled to fight against us actually pave our way to the very gates of heaven and to the presence of God. He wants us to be more than conquerors, turning storm clouds into chariots of victory. What your enemy plan to use for your defeat, you can confiscate for your own use.

When Dr. Moon, of Brighton, England was suddenly struck by blindness, he said, 'Lord, I accept this talent of blindness from you, help me to use it for Your glory so that when You return, you may receive it back with interest' Then God enabled Him to invent the Moon Alphabet for the blind, through which thousands of blind people were enabled to read the Word of God and thereby come to the glorious saving knowledge of Christ.

The ministry of thorns has often been a greater ministry to mankind than the ministry of thrones.2"

notes:
1. Romans 8:37
2. L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert, 1925 Cowman Publications, pp 469

Numbers Everywhere

2007-12-12T18:16:00.000+08:00

I read this news on Yahoo, and was so amazed by it I chose to post it on my blog. Whatever this man is drinking...let me have it.

My favorite part is this "He sat down and it was all very quiet -- and all of a sudden he amazingly just cracked it." Whooa! Sat down and cracked the 13th root of 200 digit numbers - err..without calculator just pure brains..

Anyways thats a lot of spoiler from me. Read the news for yourself and ask the person sitting next to you - "Cracked?"

'Mathlete' smashes human calculation record: museum

Tue Dec 11, 12:21 PM ET

The world's fastest human calculator on Tuesday broke his own record for working out a 200-digit number using nothing but brain power to produce the answer in just over 70 seconds.

Alexis Lemaire, a 27-year-old Frenchman, correctly calculated the 13th root of a random 200-digit number from a possible 393 trillion answers.

The so-called 'mathlete' produced the answer of 2,407,899,893,032,210 in 70.2 seconds, beating his previous record of 72.4 seconds, at London's Science Museum.

A computer was used to produce a random 200-digit number before he sat down to calculate the answer in his head.

The museum's curator of mathematics, Jane Wess, said: "He sat down and it was all very quiet -- and all of a sudden he amazingly just cracked it.

"I believe that it is the highest sum calculated mentally.

"He seems to have a large memory and he's made this his life's ambition. It's quite remarkable to see it happen. A very small number of people have this extraordinary ability; nowadays there is only a handful."

Lemaire, who attends the University of Reims in northern France, began demonstrating his prowess by finding the 13th root of a random 100-digit number but gave up trying to improve his performance when he calculated an answer in under four seconds in 2004.

Like an athlete, he trains his brain daily for the far harder task of finding the 13th root of 200-digit numbers.

Article URL:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/britainsciencerecordoffbeat

footnote:
The fastest mathematical equation I solved in my whole life was "Who killed Magellan?", and I was able to solve it for only 5 minutes, minus the time I looked for a calculator.

Cling to the Cross

2007-11-19T22:16:00.000+08:00

Complicated circumstances clouding your view, leaving you without a clue about how much gravity it would take to keep your feet on the ground. Trying to resist the temptation to carry out a grand orchestra with songs as rare as a fantasy locked in the grave of a story teller.

Once upon a glimpse of time, there used to be a herald standing in front of you, improvising your motives on all walks of life.

In your fear to stop being the architecture of great words, you shun from the Giver of words. You know for yourself that He alone holds the chronometer of life but you still risk painting the sky with your own dreams. “You will never learn” says a fellow thief. “I’ll be waiting for you to fail again” says a failing mortal soul. You ran out of alibis this time and you ended up responding in defeat, “Maybe they are right”.

And the gloomy afternoons of your memories rushed to the dark nights of your guilt. The pride that escorted you to your downfall is now disguised as shame and prevents you from rising again. You prefer the ground; you say to yourself there is not much air for you to breathe you might as well remain lying down. And so you did.

Meanwhile on the other side of life called destiny, the road is filled with human beings moving on. Artists crafting new ideas, politicians stitching new promises to be worn, infants enjoying their milk while hope builds up in their fragile heart, hearts are breaking up, families being united, love being lost, friends leaving friends, strangers welcoming each other, and foes reconciling with their enemies. There’s a lot going on around you, would you still lie down?

You tried getting up but the mud you’re lying in is so thick, it hesitates to let you go, you are glued to destruction. You keep turning your head on all directions, you are looking for anything to hold on to, anything just to keep you out of that mud. Guess what? You are lying in a pile of mud; the nearest part of the earth near you is a rocky road. You give up. There’s no use to find your own way out. And as you lie down, you tried one unfamiliar thing that you have never tried before. You lay still. And there you see parallel to where you are is the sky; the cumulus calmness brought a sudden peace to the angry waves of your anxieties. And then you remember these words “My peace I leave to you”.

This place looks familiar, you are right. This is the same place that He went when He joined His Father in heaven. The early believers of the church were staring on that same place you are staring right now. They can never be wrong, they rejoiced in hope and continued to do so even up to the most grueling deaths in the hands of their persecutors. It is how He touched your life. From the manger, to the cross, to the tomb, then beyond the tomb, He went straight to His throne.

It’s the only hope there is for saving you. The world behind you, the cross before you. No turning back, no turning back.1

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth2

Great is your God!

Sleep in peace as the day dawns; leave everything to Him who is all knowing. His grace has made you whole, His love has proven it all and all you need to do is be still and know that indeed Jesus is Lord!3

Notes:

1. Paul Baloche and Matt Redman, "I Cling to the Cross" 2007, Ingerity's Hosanna! Music.

2. Psalm 40:2-3 NIV

3. Psalm 46:10 NIV

Leaving a trail

2007-11-09T17:22:00.001+08:00

Leaving a trail
Originally uploaded by Blessed.Wind

It came to pass that you left home...far from where I am standing you stood your ground...with an honest heart you bid goodbye...Though you wanted to stay, there lies a greener pasture on the other side of the valley...not for your sake but for those you loved...as the clouds flew with you, I fared you well...not letting you know that your heart is in danger, I chose to stay...thank you for not going too far....thank you for leaving a trail for my blood stained footsteps to follow...I never knew you would stop and wait for me somewhere down that dark road...but there you were, with your usual silent stare...I was not ready for it but you gave the fiercest blow that shattered all my faults into pieces...you gave love when hatred was all there is for me...you gave love when the guns of treason I fired came rushing back to me...you gave love when the only shield I have left is death...thank you for your love...may I have enough life enough to give you back even half of what you gave...i love you!

Between a pen and a paper lies a black ink.

2007-11-05T22:44:00.000+08:00

Obhet Cristobal, Singapore

The ink is almost dry as the pen suffocates itself with frivolous relaxation. And in the affluence of a semi-charmed kind of life, the price tag did not reveal how much life is really worth. Instead there is a very distinct mark on the worn-out piece of paper, and it reads “fill in the blank”.

Friday evenings are not the same as it used to be, the once familiar excitement of Saturday’s first hour becomes an unfamiliar longing to rest. The motivation to think that was once the result of a romantic moment with nature suddenly becomes a rushing desire to sink in the covering of a nylon bed piece.

Life transforms so easily, it’s either you're aware of it or you just realize it, most of the time you get surprised by the grains of sand adorning the tip of your weary sandals. You are never sure where you came from in as much as you are sure that you are not supposed to be where you are. The need to pursue a path becomes a tragic craving to bring your steps to a halt.

Is it the long road ahead that’s taking your time or is it the time taking different roads that heads to nothingness?

The soul is confused, while the logic is diffused.

When life’s recipe is left with only a concoction of comedy and common sense, you will soon find out that there’s not much left on the table to enjoy. Suddenly you search for greener pastures, you look for the lighter shade, you remember a choral fest of silence that slowly builds up to a ferocious stillness. The quiet wild that hinders you from dancing with the wind.

“Take me with you”, says your heart to the mirror in front of you, but the mirror could only whisper, “I could only go where your eyes could stare, if only you would not turn your back on me and forget how I look like”

Rubbish!

All these are rubbish. You wish to sing a new song and enjoy the miracle of the moment, you’re tired of swinging back and forth between the altar and the door but you are pretty sure you will fail again.

The only way is to let go of all your “if only’s”. To leave the “maybe” behind, to throw the “what if” away and to ignore the “this time I’m ok” attitude. You are really no good by yourself, you need a Savior, you need to spend your life to things of eternal worth. Fixing your eyes on the rainbow will not take you to the pot of gold, but setting your eyes pass the highest clouds, to the hands the hold the sun and the moon together, to the One that counts the stars, to the author and finisher of your faith, then your life would begin to have that iota of worth.

Eventually you still don’t deserve it.

But how come you enjoy a good life?

Love says it all. Not just any ordinary love, but that which has no greater love, that is willing to die so that others might live, that which triumphed over the cross. That kind of love.

Severely broken for the sake of all, wounded so you would never bleed. Crushed so you would be whole, insulted so you would hold a crown, died so you would live.

Dear friend, if you know something longer than forever, count again you will never miss it’s ending for sure.

On the third day, He rose again.

2007-10-18T18:07:00.000+08:00

One heart entangled in a chaotic stupor of trivial errors. Breathing every moment made for uncertainty.

Violent unbelief scares off a young man's dream. In a famine of sleep and loss of speech, the warm kiss of nature suddenly turns to a bloody wrath of the wind. Blank walls raised from miniature lies, when the ones you ate with on the same table becomes stranger as a foe. There you find the soil with utmost worth.

God's beautiful grace made sure that the skies cover this earth, for in moments that there's no more right left to see on all sides, you look up to the sky as tears remain in your face and will never fall down to the ground, until you feel it transform to a tiny river gushing forth from your weary eyes down to your pale face.

True, pain can make you numb. But life is never painless, take heart it is never joyless also. Enveloped emotions are rarely fruitful.

Losing hope is easy, just let go of your conscience and its a done deal. The good thing about hope is although you thought you lost it all, it chose to remain inside of you and would surely make a comeback not for your own glory but for your worth by virtue of a wooden cross. “Apart from me you can do nothing” such kind words from the lover of your soul.

You screwed up this life, big time, there's no turning the spotlight to you again, you had it all, the applause of your peers is but a silent stare. Everyone wonders how so much mud ended up on your face without anyone noticing. No one to point a finger to, even the mirror might turn its back on you. Where do you go?

Some people jumped to their death. Some took a bath with their own blood. Some smiled. Some knelt down. Some did the same thing, even worse. Some defended themselves. Some wrote blogs. But the solid truth is, most of them died. The remaining ones are yet to die.

Death, so tragic yet sweet. Ferocious yet silent. Death has his own time, but never on yours, it would never knock on your door to warn you and make you pack your bags. It doesn't come with a return address in case you still want to live an extra day. It's there, it sure is.

If there is one thing about death that mortals should learn to live with is that – IT IS NOT FINAL!

There is a second verse to your life song, there is a victory proclamation to your life service, there is a coat of comfort to your yoke-swollen shoulders, there is “well done” note to the servant from the Master. But let us not forget, there is also a fiery fire to blaze a life lived in the dark.

There is no safer time than now to read those words again “On the third day, He rose again”. Praise Him for the blood. Nothing else could make you whole again. No one else to lift your head again, None can compare to how He loved you. Not for who you are, but because of what He's done, not because of what you've done, but because of who He is.

The Legend of the Thorn Sower

2007-10-02T17:48:00.001+08:00

“Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking, we are expecting partly cloudy skies upon arrival at our destination airport. I hope you enjoy the flight”

It was not your ordinary flight on time day, in fact the plane flew four hours later than expected. As the first group of passengers lined up for boarding, the flight crew was very warm in checking the boarding passes.

Everyone is seated. All trust are hosted on the plane's cockpit. No electronic signals are allowed to interfere with that of the plane's.

A young girl opens her book, reads her favorite part. Words that inspired her before never fail to inspire her still. It was a book given to her by her friend, it was a few years ago that her friend left her for good. She never knew what happened to her friend but every time she flips the pages of her book, she remembers the color of the night when they shared tears together.

Two seats ahead of the girl was an old man, in his age, he is very excited to see his beloved son. How many years was that? Five years! What have happened to his son, he never answered his letters, he never even tried to contact him.

“Mommy! How long are we going to fly?” Trisha asked her mom. As if she heard nothing, her mom just brushed her hair and quietly smiles, dreaming of the warm embrace of her beloved, none can compare to the feeling of being reunited to Randy, ah! None sweeter than her husband's name.

“Can I call you when we get there?” a young bachelor asking the beautiful lady beside him whom he just met. She just nodded. A simple nod, but for the young lad, it meant everything.

A few notches ahead, as the clouds swallowed the 150 plus seater, turbulence sets, engaging the beautiful view from the wing side to a ferocious grip of courage. A sudden surge would prove fatal, no one knows. Everyone is venturing in limbo.

Calming peace.

35,00 feet from the ground, doubts begin to pile up with the pressure rising up, something went wrong with the right wing. Bonnie saw it and she already told herself, “I'm gonna die”

Fear permeated an almost dim lit section of the plane.

Empty bottles and waste bags are scattered on the floor.

The captain remains silent, he knows what to do in this kind of situation. He never fear death, though it was his first time to encounter such arrogance of nature, he simplified his options.

“I have to keep the plane on the air as long as I don't see a safe place to land”

The plane started to plunge.

“God help us” the captain uttered in a near hopeless situation.

There was a loud roaring sound, the speed of the plane collapsing to the mountain top was so quick to introduce death to everyone. The other wing catches fire, a loud beeping sound surrounded the dying plane.

To hold their breath is what everyone can do the most.

It did not help either.

Smoke.

Blood.

Smell of gasoline.

You could witness a canvass of dead people and the carcass of the airplane. How many were dead? Who would know? Except one.

It was the captain of the plane. The master and commander of the deceased airbus. To some stroke of luck, he was the only one standing. He was the only one left to tell the story. But who would believe him? and who will be the first one to listen to him?

He tried to measure the magnitude of the damage done. But how? Does he need to count the casualties? Search for them? There are 180 of them, where would he start?

It's easier to walk around a parked plane than to walk pass the pieces of a demolished plane.

He can't stand the sight of lifeless bleeding bodies, he walked far from the plane, he could still see it, he walked a little farther, but he could still see it.

As he puts his eyes away from the plane, he saw fields of green. Beyond that are tall trees, maybe protecting a small wildlife community. Those trees could provide food and shelter for him. He walks slowly, his every step was heavy as if he is wearing an iron shoes.

A few steps inside the forest, he could see darkness, uncertain darkness. But at the heart of the forest, there seem to be a small light. Regardless of its size, it amplified something in his heart, something that was left intact amidst the bruises and pain that he suffered from the plane crash.

He is not sure where that light is coming from but amidst this twilight zone, there it is. It may take long before he gets there, but the one thing that remained in his heart was so sure he is never alone.

Hope.

The only thing that he holds on to.

He never know when his life will last.

He never know how many steps are left before hope dries up.

It's painful to be alone, without anyone to encourage him as he walks towards that light. But one great servant of God once said;

“The classroom I went to was so difficult, the lessons are so painful, but Jesus stood in front of the class. And that's why I learned a lot”1

There may be a hundred steps left, or even a thousand, but for the captain, it won't matter for he is not the captain of his life anymore.

The forest swallowed him.

There was no trace of him from where he came from.

Silence.

Footnotes (quoted italic text)
1. Corrie ten Boom, Door to Repentance, 1971

Digital Soap Opera

2007-09-28T12:13:00.001+08:00

To create a new standard, it takes something that’s not just a little bit different, it takes something that’s really new and really captures people’s imagination and the Macintosh, of all the machines I’ve ever seen, is the only one that meets that standard.”
–Microsoft founder Bill Gates, 1984

If I were running Apple, I would milk the Macintosh for all it’s worth–and get busy on the next great thing. The PC wars are over. Done. Microsoft won a long time ago.”

–Steve Jobs, 1996
These two guys looked good together, a battle royal for almost three decades can also lead to bursts of laughter and sharing of common ideals. Find out what these two has to say to each other as they give a glimpse of how they got to the top and maintained to stay there.

Read the liveblog of D: All Things Digital at this link

Diversity of Man's Struggles

2007-09-26T17:26:00.000+08:00

This news article was published in Religion Today (www.crosswalk.com). If EDSA has been a great challenge to you as well as the stunts of government officials smuggling for applause, try to read this article and digest every word that spells poverty.

Pick up those crumbs of bread at your table, buy enough soda cans for the day, flag your neighbor with a smile, thank God even for a while, for some of our pains and hunger are defined as feast and comfort on the other side of this earth.

British Evangelical Aid Agency: Many Children Dying in Zimbabwe

Peter Grant, Tearfund’s International Director, says children are now suffering from very high levels of chronic malnutrition. “People are dying. It’s the very young, the very old, and those with Aids who are the most vulnerable,” says Peter. “We heard recently of a church leader who had to bury a grandmother and a baby from the same family over the same weekend. As the year goes on with the continuing food shortages, we can expect the situation to get worse, and more people to die.”

“With inflation exceeding 4500% - some reports put the figure nearer 8000% - currency no longer buys food and medical care. Even if people could afford to go to hospital, there are no longer medical supplies to treat them. The wages of hospital staff do not even cover the bus fare to work,” the story continued.

full story

Like a Rose Trampled on the Ground

2007-09-25T12:17:00.000+08:00

[Reflections on the Song, Above All]

Above all powers, Above all kings
Above all nature, And all created things
Above all wisdom, And all the ways of man
You were here before the world began

Julius Caesar made the most of his divine ancestry and built a temple in his forum to Venus Genetrix, Mao Tze Tung had his little red book carried by multitudes, Adolf Hitler killed the Jews, Pol Pot became popular with agrarian communism, Joseph Estrada became president, Mike Arroyo went to Hong Kong, the bus driver cuts loose a wild chase in EDSA, a rugby-saturated young thief went off with the purse of an old lady in white, a jobless drunk stabbed to death a sober dreamer.

Above all kingdoms, Above all thrones
Above all wonders, The world has ever known
Above all wealth, And treasures of the earth
There's no way to measure What You're worth

Napoleon was poisoned, Saddam Hussein was caught on a filthy hole in Baghdad, Kurt Cobain swallowed a shotgun bullet, Richard Nixon stepped down from office, JFK's head was shattered by an assassin's bullet, Ninoy Aquino's white clothes were tainted with his own blood, Ferdinand Marcos flew to Hawaii, Government inks ZTE deal, Team Unity beats Genuine Opposition 12-0, FPJ dies, PGMA says sorry, the writer of this blog thought he knew it all.

Crucified
Laid behind the stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all

A carpenter was nailed to a wooden cross, the blood of a sinless Savior for the remission of the sins of those who killed Him, the King of kings stripped of His robe on His way to the cross, His death in exchange for the lives of those who would believe, Glorious Lord crowned with thorns, the multitudes hated and shouted at the One whom the angels worship, “It is finished” and the battle is won! He rose on the third day, He sits on His throne but He is never busy running His Kingdom for you not to hear these words from Him “I love you my child, I gave my only begotten Son, believe me and you will have eternal life”

Jesus Christ, according to Paul Baloche and Lenny LeBlanc's song was rejected trampled on the ground like a rose. Beautiful Jesus took the fall, and thought of you and me – ABOVE ALL!

Rain, Rain On my Way!

2007-09-24T12:03:00.000+08:00

On a taxi going to Hotel Royale yesterday, we could hardly see the road due to heavy rain. I was listening to Philips, Craig and Dean's Crucified with Christ. My favorite line of that song is “His cross will never ask for more, than I can give, for it's not my strength but His”

And as I get inspired and give thoughts to countless means where Christ has blessed me, there before me was another great orchestration of His divine protection not only to me and to the whole mankind. Different authors have wrote about nature testifying to God's majestic craft, you see it in the sunset, you feel it in the cool breeze, you listen to it in the sound of the wind paying homage to the cloud of life.

The rain continued to poured hard. But my heart suddenly thanked God for one simple thing. It made me think about the rate of evaporation, how much water is getting sucked by the clouds in an infinite repetitive cycle of evaporation and condensation. And then I was caught in amazement knowing that for every drop of rain to kiss the ground, there has to be someone to count them first, or someone to make sure that just enough water would rain down on us. Otherwise, Waterworld would cease to remain a myth.

If you want to know the rate of evaporation, on one website that I recently surfed (though I really can't understand the PSIs and molecular weight jargons), the article states something about 1.1 Kg/sq m/ sec. A largeish number according to the author.

Don't know if that would be the exact figures, but the certainty of a Supreme Creator of this universe making sure that there's just enough rain would remain a glimpse of God's mystery which is both sovereign and carefully executed.

Next time you get trapped on a bus stop, without your umbrellas, and the rain poured hard. Avoid your rage, it won't get you dry, instead thank the One who covered the earth with clouds and sent the rain in its season.

I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees of the field their fruit.

Leviticus 26:4

SESAME!

2007-09-19T17:55:00.000+08:00

Isang pagpupugay sa munting gabay ng aking kabataang di mapalagay

Kung gusto mong sumaya

Kung gusto mong sumigla

Igalaw mo, igalaw mo

Igalaw ang 'yong ulo.

Huebes ala-una ng tanghali, kakagising lang ni Sultan Parachibum. Agad niyang hinanap ang kanyang mga alagang si Ningning at si Gingging. Sumigaw siya sa gawing kanan, "Ning!" Sa gawing kaliwa, "Ging!" At sabay humatsing, "hatsing!"

Hindi niya matagpuan ang kanyang hinahanap, sa kakalakad sa maliit na eskinita sa gilid ng Podium ay nagulat siya, “Bwahahahaha!” sabi ng isang anino ng matsing, hawak ang saging at maikling baging, bigla itong naglaho. Nilapitan niya ang pinanggalingan ng boses ng matsing at sa di inaasahang sitwasyon ng kanyang pusong mamon, nakita niyang nakahandusay ang matandang babae, duguan, kikip ang isang bolang kristal at may suot na ID na hugis ATM na may nakasulat na “Manang Bola at Your Service” Diyata’t isa itong stewardess ng Tiger Airways?

Kung gusto mong sumaya

Kung gusto mong sumigla

Igalaw mo, igalaw mo

Igalaw ang mga paa.

Agad itinext ng sultan ang kaibigan niya sa media, si Noli De Kasyo, “Pre where na you? Dito n me” ipinaling niya ang kanyang 3G na 5110 (3G as in 3 Gives), sa gawing hilaga upang makahanap ng signal, at ng may signal na siya ay biglang tumunog ang mapagbirong “toot” sa palsetong tono ay nabatid ni Sultan na wala na siyang load.

Nag abang siya ng kung sino mang dadaan para makahingi ng tulong. Ilang saglit pa ay palukso luksong dumaan si Kapitan Basa, hawak ang aklat ni Sydney Sheldon, tinangka niya itong istorbohin “Manong, Manong! Pahingi ng tulong! Kung ayaw mong matanong, hahampasin kita ng talong!” sa takot ni Kapitan Basa ay sumagot nlang siya ng “Ok, wag lang science ha?”

Kung gusto mong sumaya

Kung gusto mong sumigla

Igalaw mo, igalaw mo

Igalaw ang mga kamay.

“Nakita ko kasi itong bangkay ng matandang babae na ito, tingin ko wala na siyang buhay, kung meron man eh sumakabila na, gusto ko siyang tulungan, dalhin sa kung saan, kaya lang wala akong kakayahan, ngayon eto ang tanong ko – bakit nakalimutan ni Christian Bautista ang Lupang Hinirang?”

“Eh nagpapatawa ka ba?” ika ni Kapitan Basa, “hindi nakalimutan ni Christian yun, nalobat lang yung gamit niyang Magic Sing kya nag iba ang lyrics niya.”

“Ano yang kaguluhan na iyan?” sigaw ni Irma Daldal, ang call center agent na nakatira malapit sa Brickley.

“Hindi kami magulo!” duet ni Kapitan at Sultan, “ang gobyerno ang magulo hindi kami”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” (parang sa komiks, nagulat!) “bakit may patay jan? sabi ni Irma!

“Nakita lang namin ito dito” duet uli ng dalawa, sa pagkakataong ito ay tenor si Sultan at bass naman si Kapitan.
Sino ang may kasalanan?

Kung gusto mong sumaya

Kung gusto mong sumigla

Igalaw mo, igalaw mo

Igalaw buong katawan mo.

“Alam namin kung sino” sagot ng dalawang alien na si Sitsiritsit at Alibangbang, “kanina kasi habang nagwiwindow shopping kami sa St. Francis Square ay nakita namin ang matandang iyan na tila nakikipagtalo sa isang matsing.”

Samakatuwid, ang ating prime suspek ay isang matsing.

Timing namang padating si Pong Pagong kasama ang isang maliksing matsing na matanong.

“Alin, alin? Alin ang naiba? Isipin kung alin ang naiba?” Masaya nilang awit. Walang kaalam alam sa gulong madadaanan.

“Huli ka!” sabay sabay na turo ng lahat kay Kiko, (hindi Santos, kundi Matsing)

“Ako?” sabi ni Kiko, “Ikaw nga sabi ng kaibigan niyang pagong”

“Teka, anong ginawa ko?” paliwanag ng Matsing.

“Ikaw daw ang may kagagawan nito” Sabay turo ni Irma Daldal kay Manang Bola na nakahandusay pa rin ng mga oras na iyon.

“Hindi ako!” sabi ni Kiko.

“Ungh!” sosyal na ungol ng matandang stewardess.

Nagulat ang lahat!

*Ako din nagulat kasi biglang dating ng amo ko at nagtanong kung ano na raw ba ang natapos ko, salamat sa gakidlat na bilis ng Alt-Tab at nailipat ko ng tamang oras ang screen sa Photoshop.

“Si Manang Bola buhay!!!!” sigaw ng ibong si Koko Ki-Kwak.

“Hindi maari” sambit ng sultan.

“Paano nangyari yun?” sabi ni Kiko.

“Himposibol” bulalas naman ni Pong

“Ohmigosh!” sabi ng sosyalerang si Irma

“No-Deal” sigaw naman ni Kapitan Basa.

“Alinsunod sa nakalap na ebidensiya ng mga guwardiya, ikaw Manang Bola ay hinahatulan ng hukumang ito ng mga kangaroo ng dalawa’t kalahating ulit na habang buhay sa salang pandaramba!”

“Inuutusan ka ng hukumang ito na isauli ang nakulimbat mong isang garapon ng mentos at magbayad ng danyos perwisyo na nagkakahalaga ng 150 pesos gift certificate sa Isetan Recto”

“Dahil kaming lahat ay pinaniwala mong dedo ka na, pagkakaitan ka ng karapatang mag chat at mag attach ng file sa iyong email”

“Binabawi na rin namin ang 20% discount privileges mo at wala ka ng aasahan sa retirement benefits mo (as if meron naman tlga diba?)”

“Anong masasabi mo Manang Bola”?

“I’M SORRY!”

The comfort of poverty

2007-09-19T11:39:00.001+08:00

The comfort of poverty
Originally uploaded by Blessed.Wind

On my way to SM Marilao in bulacan, I was seated on the front seat...these people caught my attention..they were shouting at me with words that I could not understand, maybe it's the language they have or I'm pretty sure it's the discrimatinion inside of me that made me not understand them...but as i witnessed...these people seem to enjoy their time together...even in the uncertainty of the existence of their new found home...they took time to gather...left alone with a smoke to chill up to...I may not be that rich but I am certainly well off compared to these people but how come their hearts are richer than mine?

Cover the Earth with God's Glory

2007-09-19T11:35:00.001+08:00

Cover the Earth with God's Glory
Originally uploaded by Blessed.Wind

A glorious praise and worship offered to the Glorious King...truth remains that all our strength, our joys and every inch of worth in us is who He is in our hearts, the voices of passionate worshippers reaches the throne of the Sovereign Lord in majestic utterance that it is all about Him alone...

JIL SG Worship Leading Team!

Static Magnetism to an Orb of Decadence

2007-09-17T16:29:00.000+08:00

[Instant coffee and aircon, prose and confusion]

I left the park without the usual gutsy feeling and a bullet proof attitude of "let go of me dude!, I'm fed up with you".

Almost cynical of your righteous intention, I need to fasten my seatbelt and let the adrenaline rush, shy of Pompey's post privatus years.

The metallic plate of my subtle dreams ended up in a less than lucrative business of the self.

Not minding the gradient color of the blood that spilled from self inflicted wounds, my hopes are reduced to half the number of stars that collared my engaging tactics. Deal with me now or prepare for the great white shark's ferrocious kiss.

Listen to the sound of the black keys that holds my fingers apart, I hurriedly take you away to neverland, to where we will never grow old, to where the pirate captain is held captive to the croc's enigmatic agenda.

I am helpless in preventing the rage behind these words that time had allowed me to translate inside a dim-lit room of strange people.

Though the memories have died in the eye of the strong hurricane, fear never held back an inch and took his post.

Battle!

To battle the essential truth behind the smile. To rattle the poignant decaying pulse for a little while. The mantle of random heartbeat refuse to survive. The damsel of creative distress is barely alive.

Thank you!

The curtain is lifted.

I'm out of words, a burglar of poetic innovations.

Leave me alone and let me alone.

My dear self, how I long to ask "Where did you sleep last night?"

And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:27

Blessed Be Your Name

2007-09-17T06:13:00.000+08:00

First day at work today, woke up early...last night I closed my eyes digesting M. Redman's book with these lines;

Can a child presume to choose where or how to live,
But can a Father's love refuse all the best to give?

He further explains, We cannot choose our path in life but we can choose to walk down it with a worshipful trust in the sovereignity and Father heart of God.

Matt is dwelling on the topic of worship having a price tag, in all circumstances, in bright and dark seasons of the soul, "Lord blessed be Your name"

A few minutes ago reading L.B. Cowman's devotional book, she speaks about Job who declared, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, may the name of the Lord be praised" (Job 1:21).

Today is one season of my soul that I share with only a handful of people around me. After four months in Singapore, finally i would start work. Told a few around me that I lack the confidence to pull this through, due to the fact that I came from freelance land, I have never had much of the nine-to-five routine.

Well here I am, I have been praying for this and I could only pray that God be with me in every step of the way. I pray for His grace that I would never miss that which He purposed me to be in this place, to meet these new set of people and to work in a totally different environment.

Have to scram, never felt like this since grade school (argh! I just made it to the mushy team)

God bless to all, I do have hundreds of words when I get home tonight, hope to have enough strength for a blog entry.

Carrying Out Great Exploits with Strength in Knowing God

2007-09-10T12:03:00.000+08:00

JIL Singapore, 17th Anniversary, 2007

9th of September, 2007, Sheraton Towers. Six months of preparation lead to this day of celebration. As God has again revealed Himself to the worshipping hearts of this congregation, the aura of reverent amazement to Jesus filled the air. A rainbow of eternal hope embellished the cloudless skies of souls in need of God’s mercy and grace.

The production team is all set; every little details have been put in its rightful place by the diligent ministry groups. The administrative team has done a great job of putting up a great program; the groups of intercessors have spent time marrying their knees to the ground. Prayers, tears, exhaustion, sleepless nights, joy, silence. Countless enough to write a whole chapter of what was involved in preparation for this day, but one thing could not be left out. One of highest importance, that amidst all of the corporate efforts to put up an organized event, there is One who sits on His throne saying “Here comes the apple of my eye!” As if He sets a time to gather His angels to witness a group of believers, maybe amounting to a thousand that day but before the heavenly architecture of God is only a speck of dust. Yet, in His throne, God is so much excited to see young people, old people, professionals, mothers, fathers and children gather and shouting Jesus’ fame. Worshipping God as He covers this earth with His glory. Telling the world that Jesus loves them.

“Here they are to worship me”, Jesus says to His angels. “Yes they will never know how much it will cost to see their sins in my cross, but they called upon me and here they are to say that I am their God” Jesus continues to speaks about His worshippers.

It is already 1 in the afternoon; the guests slowly took their seats. The program began with an introductory voice over, followed by the Philippine National Anthem led by Sis. Thessa Tepase. Not long after, the JIL Singapore worship leading team took the stage with a passionate hunger and thirst. “Praise the Lord!” Everyone is at their feet, the dancing generation turned their time of waiting into raising of hands, shouting out loud and thumping of feet. All for the glory of their Creator, all because they love the One who first loved them.

The usual routine of the program went through, Bro. Paul Palis and Sis Hazel Guiling did a great job as emcees. Sis Mae Ignacio, the wife of our guest speaker from Australia, Pastor Jerry Ignacio, exhorted tithes and offering to the congregation and afterwards, one of the highlights of the program is the launching of the KKB Singapore, after a short avp, they rendered a live band performance, All for Love and I Am Free. These young people not only looked good on stage with their colorful outfit, they poured out their hearts for this one great opportunity to worship God. The fruit of long months of rehearsals were not only evident on their songs but on the desire of their hearts that sang louder than their instruments and voices.

The guest speaker is the JIL Worldwide Ministry Director for Asia Region 3 and the Resident Pastor of JIL Australia. It was a short, yet very inspiring message. Anchored to the theme in Daniel 11:32b; But the people who know their God shall be strong and carry out great exploits, His message revolved around the truth of how much we know of God that would determine how we will see things, how it would affect our future and how much of Him would be revealed to us.

“You are created by the Creator therefore you are creative” What a magnificent statement. Since we are created in the image of God, there is that something in us that is part of what God is, the one thing that would make the difference is; How much do you know of your God? Would that be enough for you to be strong and carry out great exploits?

Pastor Norlyne Gagarin, the Resident Pastor of JIL Singapore was still in Algeria yesterday so a video of his greetings was projected on screen. And you could definitely feel how much this great servant of God loves his flock so much, his words speak completely how his heart has been always praying for these fruits. How God alone has been the center of His agenda that from the early years in Botanical Garden, His flocks grew to two Sunday services at the Royale Hotel.

Bishop Bro. Eddie C. Villanueva, Sis Dory J. Villanueva and Rep. Joel Villanueva sent their greetings which were read by the emcees.

Among the highlights of yesterday’s event was the pantomime presentation of the KKB, a song number by Bro. Jess Lampasa and Sis Thessa Tepase.

The event was followed by a dinner fellowship at the same venue with other special guests, Pastor Rey Navarro and wife, Bro Ricky Sanchez who rendered two inspiration songs.

It was a great day indeed. It was not about how the people grew tired, all wanting to go home and call it a day. It was a picture of excited believers, ready for the next big thing for God. Bro Arnold Francisco, threw a few words to me before I went home, “This is a long year for us, more events to come”

Praise God for the great opportunity to sing to Him, to give to Him, to live out loud for Him. A life resolved to God would have great faith to leave the results to Him. Yesterday’s event resulted to one clear thing that was etched in everyone’s heart...

The greater praise of His greater glory!

See you on the 18th year celebration.

Problem Solving Problematic

2007-09-09T07:57:00.000+08:00

Singapore, 2007

My wife and I are running short of time preparing for this day’s event. It’s two hours before our call time and we should be at the venue by then. But while taking a hot shower, the “urge” to write seems to pull my senses deep and give it a try. Yes, that is how I write, I write from instincts. I seldom have a clear understanding of what I would write until I get my fingers on my laptop keyboard and started scribbling for words. I don’t know how real writers do their stuff, but this is how I do mine. And unless someone would cross my path and tells me – “This is how you should do it” then I would give it a thought. Then maybe I would start to become a real writer.

Anyways, to satisfy my craving to write today, what I learned from the seminar yesterday seems to be a good start for a good topic to write. It was the first time that I heard this good pastor from Australia, I was able to talk to him before at last year’s pastor’s congress but I was not able to hear him preach. Actually, I was having second thoughts of approaching him, I was not sure if it is because of the uncertainty that he still remembers me or if it is because of the certainty of the fact that he might know of a bent that I had on my bow. Either way, I was more than glad when he called me from where he is sitting and complimented my works from where I used to come from. (That is roughly how my life goes from time to time, people would compliment me for being a techie, a deadly smile deep in my heart as pride looms up and one day in a single stroke of a mighty hand of God, things turned upside down).

“There is a solution in you; you are the solution of a problem”. He exclaims from the pulpit. In chat lingo, this is a time to put up the great LOL! But there is no wi-fi signal, my laptop is buried silently in my bag and it was just a reckoning piece of truth coming from a person well-versed in life’s toil. “Should I believe this crap?” says a fearful, weak but tyrant corner of my heart. Believe me, we all had our share of problems engulfing our frail breath but it’s a different thing to be the “cause of a problem”.

My senses come swinging like a pendulum while listening to his short talk, one minute I get encouraged, the next, I get afraid. What do I fear about? Or was I really afraid, or it is just the enemy peeking from a small hole that failure left as a scar of my self-inflicted wound.

Wound. Well healing comes in handy when blood flows from a deep wound, and it is an absolute fact that God is our Great Physician. And yes as I consistently seek His revelation from the trivial things of life in His grace, I manage to make ends meet when it comes to blow after blow of truths that peels all of my confidence revealing only a heartbeat of hope in God.

I was nearing the last pages of Tommy Walker’s book, He Knows My Name and this morning I got a slight pat on my shoulder reading this truth;

“If you think you are the last one in line, then God is rooting for you. God loves a good comeback. He is the God of the second, third and hundredth chances”

Then I remember one encouraging moment yesterday, “God sees you not as a problem but a solution to a problem. Your company will not hire you if you can’t add up as a solution to one of their problems; you will not be in Singapore if you will not be a part of a great solution in this community. Do not run away from problems, these will release a giant in you. Problems are fortunes. Finally, the reward you get in this life are determined by the problems you are willing to solve for others”

Whew!

I think I should leave my fears behind for good. From this day, till the last stroke of my breath I will hear countless words. But I pray for God’s grace to get a strong grip to hold on to great truths about life. To things that would help me the most, to godly advise, and to wise counsel.

Listening is not an easy task for me, that’s what I become for the past years of my life. I always wanted to be the one being listened to. Maybe I should make a quick turn on the next road ahead of me.

“Our little becomes big when God is involved”

God’s love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

Behind Bars

2007-09-08T22:34:00.001+08:00

Behind Bars
Originally uploaded by Blessed.Wind

I am currently working on one project and in search for a material when I came accross this photo. It was a few weeks before leaving Manila, I joined an outreach team who visited Golden Acres, a place for old people. Most of them left by their families. This shot was taken before we left, I thought I had already seen the saddest images. But here is a section of GA where old people needs to be locked in a prison like cell. For one reason...they tend to be violent with other people. A heart-crushing picture. But not half of how it really felt being actually there. I remember my hands shaking while taking this picture. It took me several tries before i got it right.

Wonderful day, wonderful grace

2007-08-31T10:42:00.000+08:00

Pilipinas, Aug 31, 2007

I am joined by my loving family on this special day, it’s almost 9am. I have work to finish but I do not want to miss a blog entry on my own special day. This morning when I woke up, I prayed to God, unsure of the things to thank Him for (because at 31 years old, there are really tons of things to give thanks). I whispered in a soft voice, “Thank you Jesus, 31 years ago You breathe life into a frail body, 31 years ago You assigned a place for me on this earth, 31 years ago, You allowed me to witness the beauty of Your creation, to have a taste of man’s wisdom, to be a recipient of love, to be able to listen to the songs of the birds and to be embraced by the wind that blows wherever I go.

I do not expect anyone to send greetings today the way that most of the people have done for the past 30, 10 and 3 years. This day, in a peculiar way, I am already overwhelmed by the one birthday song that I heard in the darkest corner of my room, it was just loud enough for a lingering soul to hear. It bid loneliness goodbye. My greatest friends once sang a birthday song for me, I took it on video before we shared a simple meal. I thought it was the greatest birthday song in my entire life, but not until their voices are gone, not until I unknowingly threw them away from me. Now as I slowly reach to the last page of this story, I choose not to be sad. Grace abounds as I hear His sweet voice. The table is all set, there were 31 candles on my birthday cake, my favorite pasta is rich in thick sauce, the people around me are excited for me. But I barely see all of these, for me it was as if Jesus was my only visitor, He sat there in front of me. I was expecting the familiar tune,

Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, happy birthday
Happy birthday to you!

But God has a different tune in His heart; the notes were not that complicated, not too much rest and the staff was not really filled with dots. Yet, I felt very special. I felt loved and I suddenly realized how precious and how vast is the sum of His thoughts to me. For 31 years, He have searched me and knew me, when I sit and rise, perceived my thoughts from afar. He is familiar with all my ways. Yes, this is the greatest greeting that has reached my heart in my special day;

I have created you in my inmost being, I knit you together in your mother’s womb, your frame was not hidden from me when you were made in the secret place, all the days ordained for you where written in My book before one of them came to be.

Wonderful grace, He knows my thoughts from afar and yet He has loved me with an everlasting love. Wonderful grace, He is familiar with all my ways and yet He has loved me with an everlasting love. Wonderful grace, He KNEW me and yet He has loved me with an everlasting love.

I can’t even remember if I have spent even half of my days in truth, righteousness and excellence. I can’t even remember if doing the right thing was ever in my priorities. But I thank God, of all the days that I have lived this life, this day marks the greatest love that I have ever received. The love of Jesus Christ.
Wonderful grace! Wonderful day!

Ricky Sanchez in Singapore

2007-08-31T10:39:00.000+08:00

Pilipinas, Aug 31, 2007

It was just an ordinary day for the Tampines home cell, we usually have dinner together at Ate Remy’s place. But last Friday night seemed to be a special day for a couple of reasons, one being the cute and cuddly Slim wants to showcase to us the craft of his “Electric Drill Skill.” Lol! Sorry bro, I have been contemplating on mentioning your name here in my blog for quite some time now and this is your day.

We shared a festive meal courtesy of Agnes and it was really good, especially the marinated chicken. I could still taste it in my mouth almost eight hours have passed (or was it because it did not brush my teeth? Nah! I did brush my teeth, the chicken was just really awesome) Amere, plucks on the six-stringed instrument which she is very passionate about. Abraham and Ethan Mae continued with their usual stunts, playing and kidding around the room while the rest of us are mingling in a semi-social, tongue-in-cheek discussion about life and faith. Ate Chilet was also there, she was introduced as a special guest but there was this person who quietly sits silently on one corner of the room, clad in a collared blue shirt and just gives off a few smile every once in a while.

A few minutes after reaching block 768, it was our visitor whom I looked at first when me and my wife entered the room. I have been to Slim and Mau’s place several times before and as if I knew the house so well, I knew already where to look for our guest.

Prior to this day, the host of the gathering already made mention that we will have a special guest. Apparently, he was a friend to our church community here in Singapore but for me, he was a new acquaintance.

I grew up in church hearing Ricky Sanchez’ name. I even play his cassette tapes, when a member of the music team would sing some of his songs (Minus one CDs before was a rarity). There where only a few of his songs that I could remember, Hesus-Aking Musika, Huwag mo Sanang Isipin. And if I am not mistaken, he was also the one who wrote Ako ay Binago Niya. It was a time where Marty Sampson and Reuben Morgan were not yet around. I remember hearing Darrel Evans as the first one who had loud riffs on gospel songs. But most of the music team would be having their own taste of local gospel music and some of these are Mr. Sanchez’.

Well, as far as I am concern. This person is really famous. But fame is not something that I saw in him last night, he quietly picks up the plate when it was dinner time, he attentively listened to us while the group bolsters each other’s beliefs and also shared a few of his thoughts regarding our topic. He was also very generous to reply to our inquiries. He even rendered a song for us before the home cell started. He shared to us that a few of his songs had made it to one of the famous soap in the Philippines and another song would be recorded by a local heartthrob who goes by the name of Piolo Pascual. As he was singing, I picked up my cell phone because I have no pen with me that time, I jotted down the chorus of his song. It was simple yet another truth of God was revealed to us in a unique way. He told us that he was able to write the song at the restroom of the Hotel Royale, while waiting for our church service to start. This was a part of his song;

Though He is the King of kings and Lord of lords HE LOVES ME,
The Prince of peace, Living Master is a FRIEND who cares for me.

I am not sure if I got the exact lyrics but I never had the chance to personally thank him for these words. It was really inspiring. In its truest sense, even amidst of losing most of our friends, in the uncertainty of who else could love us for who we are and not for what we did. There is something special to these words – “He loves me”. It is something that only helpless babies could feel when embraced and nursed by their loving parents, it is the earliest throne of comfort for them, the most secured position aside from their soft beds.

Indeed, even a small gathering of believers could turn to a close encounter to the One we believed in. Another one of God’s ways in telling us that “I love you my child!” it became personal, the scrumptious meal fed our hunger but the truth of God’s word fed a deeper hunger from within us.

All of us wore a different kind of joy in our hearts as we leave the place, our smiles are apparently unique compared with each other and we took home different stories inside us, this is my version, and the rest will surely bless the people that God has placed beside the circle of friends called – Tampines Home Cell.

Man’s Ultimate

2007-08-20T16:34:00.000+08:00

Singapore, Aug 20, 2007

Practicing Christian beliefs results to a variety of response, it could be difficult to some while to others it would be just a simple feat. And yet to many of us, a life of a Christian can not be less than exciting. For we serve a God which is so creative, the ways in which He reveals Himself to His followers is constant yet it always strikes our heart in ways which meets our different needs.

Steven Curtis Chapman wrote these words in one of his songs “the blinding light of grace come breaking through with sweetness”1. Yes, if there is one word that could describe the greatest love given to us is simply that – sweet.

Yesterday, at the Royal Hotel, God’s word was at work again. Sharper than any double edged sword, it has once again penetrated to the dividing soul and spirit. With its triumphant banner of truth it continues to reveal Jesus who is always excited about anything that pertains to us. The great outpouring of His blessing comes in many different ways. Most of them unnoticed, most of them we have not even thanked Him for.

“You will be blessed from Zion”2, the pastor concludes in this simple yet striking truth, especially to a Filipino. One of Man’s ultimate is to be connected to his land.

Scattered among many foreign soils, we can be reluctant when it comes to this topic. Maybe if I would be an American, or European or Australian, there would be so much connection between me and my country. But a Filipino? Well good luck. With all the dirt and corruption that eats the system, from disorganized bus routes to air pollution, creative theft (piracy, selling sub standard products, unhealthy foods) dreams are for sale, education is not a learning institution anymore, respect for authority is dependent on whose side the authority is and the intellectual atrocity penetrating the government is so casual, as casual as the poor children sniffing rugby in front of Quiapo Church.

Shattering! I can not hide my tears while writing this blog. But as I remember the good pastor talking about nationalism, I scrambled for the floor looking for dignity which shame has stepped over. I can not even raise my hands on the question of “do you still love our country” I tried to hide from the noise of my past, I tried to huddle with the fact that I am already in Singapore and a good life awaits me here. I tried everything but to no avail. As if the words from the pastor are not good enough, I was slammed right in the face when he says, “You can be anything you want to be, change your citizen, outgrow your nationality but one thing remains, you were born a Filipino and you will die one”

Death, the familiar antagonist of hope, the curious audience of defeat and the surest thing on earth. Yes, in death I will still be a Filipino, so why pretend to paste a different flag on my tombstone. It will not work. It certainly won’t.

The church service have long ended, I have already done errands for a work that I am applying to, I have already browsed almost a hundred web page this day. But the Word of God shared by Rev. Rey Navarro has substantiated once again that His word judges the thoughts and the attitudes of the heart.3

The Philippines may be in its prime of emotional chaos, but it’s far from my ability to add any change to this by posing rants and rage over the self-defeat that our countrymen are constantly holding in their hearts. But to those of us who are given the chance to work overseas, who are living an easier life must not leave this one special matter over the closed doors of our minds. Back at home we have our fathers, our mothers, our children, our brothers and sisters. And let us make sure that they would not seclude into defeat, that they would not lose hope on our beloved country. One small step from where we are standing now would matter, for it would mean a gigantic leap of faith, a model of hope for them to see that indeed, they will be blessed from Zion all the days of their life.

Notes:
1. Steven Curtis Chapman, Angel’s Wish, All Things New, 2004
2. Psalm 128: 5
3. Hebrews 4:12

Invitation to Pain

2007-08-17T14:54:00.000+08:00

Singapore, 2:54pm

“And should it be Your blessed will with crushing grief my soul to fill, press harder still”

However this may sound to any person, I can not refuse to question what faith could bring about such submissive will and obedience to ask God to press harder still.

L.B. Cowman penned the quotes in italics above. I have been reading her devotional book Streams in the Desert, long before I get to know its true meaning in my life. But this is one author who knows best when it comes to living in a barren wilderness. Long ago she discovered a fountain that sustained her and she shared it with the world through her writings. And thankful to God for the grace of having the ability to read and comprehend, I found myself immersed in her collection of prayers and meditations.

Her book was first published in 1925. That was some 51 years before I was born. And yet the power of the Holy Spirit which sustained her remains to touch the heart and soul of different people who in the same manner had a glimpse of that barren wilderness.

It is really evident that a man can give in to pain forwhatever he would believed in. I saw on Discovery channel, Asian Enigma. It is a hair raising experience to witness what man can do as he is lead to believe that the power of a certain god has given him different abilities. I saw this Snake Manu, there is nothing extra ordinary to what he is doing except that he puts a live snake in his nostrils and then the snake would pass through his mouth. Argh! I can’t make cotton buds enter my nostrils when I was a young kid. How much more a live snake, wait its not just any ordinary snake, it’s a venomous cobra.

Ok enough of Mr. Snake Manu.

Going back to different practices of faith, it is an overwhelming privilege to be part of a family who believes in the risen Christ. Before His Sovereign power to save and lift us up from the place of despair, pain plays a great role in all of this.

As His words lead us from dry desolate places to the waters of the River of Life. There is no better companion than pain. For it is there we find constant need of a Savior, between surrendering to defeat and a victorious attitude to rise up, we see the straight arrow of hope pointing to where Jesus is. And along the way, as we seek to go near Him, we have in our heart these spoken words of trust and obedience to God uttered by Jesus Himself in His most painful moment

“Father if You are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will but Your will be done” Luke 22:42

The next time you feel pain, stay still and let the Potter shape you in whatever way He pleases.

Changing Skin

2007-08-17T03:12:00.000+08:00

Singapore 3:12am

It's past 3 am...Just made a few twist on my blog skin, now it looks better. I started working on this around 11pm and after a grueling task of trial and error I finally got the right positioning...

The photo above is shot in Cebu...It doesn't look like me sitting on an old rook..but it's me indeed!

time to sleep...

An Unlikely Encounter

2007-08-16T21:32:00.000+08:00

Singapore 2007

Yesterday I got a chance to be interviewed by a Singaporean. The company is in the business of providing design solutions for different clients. I never got the chance to apologize to Mr. Recruiter because I did not understand his words when he introduced his company to me.

So what’s there to write about a regular day on a normal interview procedure?

Nothing I supposed, except that this person in front of me is so proud of Filipino employees. He says he prefers Pinoys over other nationality because we perform our tasks better. It was a shining moment for me that very hour; I can not help but tell him how I wish that employers back at home would have the same perspective such as his. How I wish Filipino employers would boast about the workmanship of their fellow Filipinos instead of not giving them much preference and opportunity to work.

I remember the story of my colleague who happens to be a software developer; one time a foreigner arrived at their office which is also an employee of one of their companies which is based in Asia. My friend told me that the fellow was really good in theories but when it comes to practicing those theories, Pinoys are really better. And here before me, a Singaporean confirms… “Filipinos can beat those people (referring to a set of nationalities) head to head".

Wow! Head to head!

The interview ended casually, without an assurance that I am hired, he asked me to perform some tasks and return at his office to discuss how we would proceed. But employment was not my primary concern that day.

I left by thanking him, in a few minutes talk, I learned a lot from him.

I went home excited, not because of getting a new job.

I am excited of the magnitude of passion and nationalism that was birthed in my heart. Yes, I might be over-reacting but that’s how it affected me, to hear from the words of a foreigner that Filipinos are great workers.

I seldom hear this back at home, I don’t even speak about this. For as far as I am concern, we are not that good in doing our job, but I was wrong. It is not how we perform our job, but how we love our country that makes a great impact over our co-workers.

I pray that the wings of nationalism would cover the hearts of each and every one of us. Regardless if we are home or not.

God bless the Philippines!

Happy Birthday Singapore

2007-08-09T10:14:00.000+08:00

Singapore 10am

Today is Singapore’s 42nd birthday, it’s such a great experience to be here this day. Yesterday I saw Prime Minister Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong on MediaCorp delivering his message. The Prime Minister is very much positive about the future of SG. I have never heard of such passion to pursue his fellow’s welfare, well not from anyone from RP. My thoughts are sporadic as I watch him speak about the welfare of the old Singaporeans, how this time the government is preparing for those who would retire, by having their benefits more accessible. One of his programs is to make people work longer so that they need not retire early therefore more retirement benefits would come their way.

In facing global matters, PM Lee says SG needs dedicated leaders in every sector and indeed as great changes unfold before Singaporeans, one strategy that he gave was for the Singaporeans to be more resilient and be able to tackle problems their own instead of looking for the government to solve every problem.

My favorite part is when PM Lee states that the internet is a tremendous tool changing the world therefore the citizens should make full use of it to link up and become a productive economy and a vibrant society.

He invites everyone to unite..learn to live and adapt.

"Singaporeans should express themselves freely but responsibly. We need to help solve problems and build our nation, not chip away at the pillars of our society. We will not always agree with one another, but we must stay cohesive and united in our common vision for Singapore."

I can not help but think about the leaders of our society back home. I know they all have good intentions, the opposition and the administration have their call to provide for the welfare of the Filipinos. Maybe a few dirty tricks on their hands but I still believe that being in their position there is always a struggle to do what is right. And I salute those who are successful in doing so.

I have been very negative about the president ever since she sat office, most of my friends knew this. Who cares anyway? I am just a fragment of one’s imagination so what does my being negative to anyone have to do with change?

But being brought through the road of failures, I have learned not to sympathize with those who fail but to bring down the judge’s robe for I am not and never will become a judge to anyone of them.

In my heart I just thought that as the leaders of our society scamper for attention, may the solutions for the nation’s problems be visible. It would not be difficult to ask the people to tackle problems on their own if the people would only see that the government is really doing their part. And if they have been doing their part, well its time to educate the people that we have a good government after all. Spread the clothe of knowledge, not through the media but by reaching out to every sector of the society.

Before anarchy would break out into our land let’s leave enough space to trust each other, the people, the government and everything else that surrounds it, including the church and the media.

If Singapore can make it big, the Philippines can too.

As a Filipino living abroad, I am guilty of leaving my country behind in exchange for good welfare and better work compensation. But as there is a sovereign God who leads each of our path. I still pray for the chance to be one with all of you in building our nation together. In rising up from the ashes of shame, corruption and societal failure.

There are a lot of good things happening back home I know it. Take it from me, I never once said anything good about the Philippines. I used to live behind the curtains of “who cares?” attitude, if I could make it better then I would, everyone else must live as he wants to..

But living here in SG for a few months makes me think about the Philippines more often.

Thanks to TFC(ABS CBN) another one of the entities that I loathed seeing.

Oh things could really change so fast…it took me one wrong turn in life to realize greater things.

I end my blog with another of Mr Lee’s great words of encouragement.

"We must do more to engage our young and strengthen their roots in Singapore. We must imbue in them the conviction that Singapore is a special and unique place that belongs to them and that Singapore's future depends on them,"

Gutsy Guilt

2007-08-07T11:49:00.000+08:00

Singapore 11:50am

The precious gem of God's Word spoken from the heart of people who do not even know where many hearts are as they write these words, yet as life breathes itself from the wisdom of God out of their writings...it brings hope to the paralized heart, to the futile and the coward, to those who underestimated the deadly and destructive fruits of self-gratification. To those who are crossing the bridge of restoration, inching his way farther from the dark and numbing reality of failure.

6th of August...John Piper wrote the next section, as part of his Desiring God devotional...it says;

The Remedy for Paralyzed Sinners & Fallen Saints
To the fallen saint, who knows the darkness is self-inflicted and feels the futility of looking for hope from a frowning Judge, the Bible gives a shocking example of gutsy guilt. It pictures God’s failed prophet beneath a righteous frown, bearing his chastisement with broken-hearted boldness. "Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me. I will bear the indignation of the Lord because I have sinned against him, until he pleads my cause and executes judgment for me. He will bring me out to the light" (Micah 7:8-9). This is courageous contrition. Gutsy guilt. The saint has fallen. The darkness of God’s indignation is on him. He does not blow it off, but waits. And he throws in the face of his accuser the confidence that his indignant Judge will plead his cause and execute justice for (not against) him. This is the application of justification to the fallen saint. Broken-hearted, gutsy guilt.

His grace abounds!...even to the vilest sinner...such as I...

31.31.31.

2007-08-01T23:40:00.000+08:00

Singapore 11:41pm

40 minutes before the day ends, I finally got the chance to write something about this day. I can not miss writing about anything today because 31 days from now, on August 31 I will be 31 years old.

It’s only once that I would pass this day. So I took the chance to write about my thoughts again.

It is said that man’s average life span is 60 years. If that’s the case then I’m halfway through, I am on the third quarter of the ballgame. Great huddles that came before me on the first half of my life have done nothing but add color to gray areas of my life. The wrong turns along the way were nothing but a kid skipping his way out of school. A stubborn student of the school of life. A tongue-twisting story teller who keeps himself to be always the protagonist of the entire short stories that escapes his thoughts through his lips. That’s what you have there. That’s how it turned out to be.

But the greatest story is yet to unfold. As time’s cruel intentions have hardened my heart, the grace of the One who owns the clock of the universe lead me to a different path. Everything is now a loss. Compared to the surpassing greatness of what is in store for me, should I keep walking where He leads me, through His grace alone.

And as the celebration of the day of my birth approaches, nothing I could ask for but for that one great desire to be in my heart. "To dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon His beauty and seek Him in His temple".1

I have to keep up with the fruits of my self-destructive ways and start from the ground, to see hope, north of where I am standing, I could only imagine if I would be able to speak less than the words that I can. To shout silently in boastfulness of how God have delivered me and to proclaim the only worth I have which I found in Christ alone.

Great friends have come and gone. Love has reached its end. Trust has pondered the walls of my dreams with uncertainty and faithfulness left the prideful heart.

But One remains.

One great God. "Who knows my name, Who knows my every thoughts, Who sees each tears that fall and HEARS me when I call".2

"We could completely trust the Man who died for our sins. With everything that concerns the life that He saved"…3

1. Psalm 27:4 2. He knows my name, Tommy Walker 3. Streams from the Desert, LB Cowman

The Homer Gang

2007-07-28T13:49:00.000+08:00

Singapore, 07-28-2007

Circa 1990, in the suburbs of East Bajac Bajac, a small Baranggay in Olongapo City, lives a budding cartoonist. In exchange for a few minutes of pleasure, this young kid skips meal just to draw his favorite cartoon character. This passion to draw extends to the walls of St. Joseph’s High School. A few minutes walk from his home.

As the teacher exhorts how mathematics shape the life of successful people, this young kid sketches the yellow figure he loves to draw, the yellow figure with a hairdo the size of a giant saw. After a few minutes of meditating the concept or his favorite cartoon hero, he shows it to one of his great friends in anime land. “Sheeeeezeee”, this is how he says it but I forgot to ask him how he spells that word, so 17 years after I would assume that this is how he spells it. Christian Reyes, now a licensed Chemical Engineer working somewhere in the middle east would wave flags of complement in agreement to what I just have drawn…yes, that young artist was me. In a time where Adobe Photoshop was just a fragment of man’s imagination, I was already passionate in drawing. I don’t even have a dream of owning my own computer that time, but I was just engulfed in arts…different seasons to speak. And that time it was the rise of the 20th century’s best television series (awarded Dec 31, 1999, Time Magazine)1.

Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie. Sounds familiar? Matt Groening, the man behind this longest running American sitcom said in an interview that they have just passed their 400th episode and thought this was a landmark time2. 20 years after its creation, The Simpsons hit the big screen.

The people behind this series have their reasons for doing this movie just now, and one of them is that we don’t have digital animations back then. Though it took them some time to write the script it all fell in one perfect place. Director David Silverman hopes this could regenerate interest in 2D animation and that it would be a great bonus for them3. Why not? That would be a great bonus for us artists who are still alienated in 3D software programs.

Let’s travel back in time. Back in highschool.

A day after a typical Simpson episode on RPN 9 (it was aired on RPN right?) our gang would regroup in one secluded place of our classroom and cover ourselves with a great force field with The Simpson Zone written all over it. No one would dare enter our zone as we talk about how bleeding gums Murphy made the day again. Hmmm…I am having a difficult time remembering the exact episodes but 17 years later, here in Singapore, while shopping with my wife, the monument of my youth stood right before me. It was not just Bart (he was my cartoon hero), the complete family was there for photo ops. After a few minutes of convincing my wife to take a picture of me and the Homer gang, she did so, hurriedly. And here you saw it in my blogsite. A dream come true…. 17 years after my wandering mind digested this yellow humor. I finally got to have my picture taken with them.

Though I am still waiting for $7 worth of financial aid from my wife, I could only imagine how those who have watched this movie laughed their heart out and who among them where already alive when Homer’s annoyed grunt “D’oh!” first hit our existence.

Argh! I am really that old!

1. Wikipedia, The Simpons 2. First, Singapore, July 2007 issue 3. First, Singapore, July 2007 issue

From the Mouth of Babes

2007-07-25T20:19:00.000+08:00

I received this email and thought of posting it on my blog..I do not know who is the author of this compiled benevolent thoughts coming from a group of 4-8 year-olds. For some reason I'm very sure a few years from now when I get back to my blog posts this would be one of my favorites..

What does love mean

in the minds of the young

image grabbed from here

When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4

Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy - age 6

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"

Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)
Karen - age 7

You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8

And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.

Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,

"Nothing, I just helped him cry"

Romans 8:1-2

2007-07-25T19:19:00.000+08:00

We need to understand that God doesn’t excuse our sin. Our loving, heavenly Father uses discipline to bring us back to godly behavior. He allows us to experience sins consequences. But divine condemnation isn’t one of them.

Dr. Charles Stanley, In Touch Daily Devotional, 07-25-2007

Really Simple Syndication

2007-07-25T14:41:00.000+08:00

Like a child leaping for joy as his father finally agreed to bring him to the park, exaggerated as it may seem. That's how i felt a while ago when i finally made my blogsite available through an RSS feed.

Now most of the readers of my blog(assuming you are more than one) can subscribe to my feed from this page. Really exciting? Yes it is...for me! Hehe!

Thanks to the evolution of Web 2.0, geeks like me have more time pondering alternative hobbies other than dancing our way to NerderLand. Have lots of things to look forward to as i intend to write more and more about anything that would come my way. I discovered it is of great help writing about the present so that you have something to read about when you sit in the future figuring out where you went wrong and how everything turned out right - leading to GREAT LESSONS learned.

God speed!

In Pursuit of Happiness

2007-07-24T23:01:00.000+08:00

Singapore. 9:52pm

Here are my thoughts again after a long hiatus inside a cave of asp.net codes, world history and book-reading. Suddenly, I found myself recuperating in unimaginable ways. Was it the mind sweeping activities I chose to get busy with? Or was it the encouragement of what’s left of the masses that I gained notoriety as a streaming scoundrel?

One word to fill the blank. Grace.

Yes, of all the attributes that covered my whole being, those that covered me with a placenta of self-proclaimed influence. I almost got to my last breath ignorant of the real fuel that kept my body pumping life for 30 years. I almost threw my dreams to the ravine of an identity crisis. Unabashed and indignant of anyone who comes my way by telling me to sit down and have a good cup of coffee with a cup of good people.

In daytime, I enjoyed life while at nighttime I hid from life. And as the earth freeze for a time being, as the night overcomes the day, I crawled the floor of humiliation grasping for thin air. With a blind sight and a frail body I shook my head in disbelief.

Suddenly out of the corners of the dark alley that I am trapped into, a spark of hope fleets in to light my path. And as I took a small step forward, one mighty arm saved me and broadens the path beneath me. In a minus eighty eight degree centigrade temperature, grace was sufficient for me to feel embraced again with love and forgiveness. As I leave the dust of my wrong decisions leading to mountains of consequences, I found confidence and strength in the sovereignty of a universal master plan so vast for human perception yet so simple before the greatest Artist in the history of everything.

He paints the canvass with different colors and different strokes of His brush. He might have given emphasis to the beauty of the clouds, but He never missed the details of the rough rocks that serve as static walls that the waves embrace. Giving a beautiful refreshing sound of hope as heat subsides when the water meets the shore.

God meets us where we are and not where someone is.
Joseph M. Stowell, Radical Reliance: Living 24/7 with God, 2006

ενιαίο

2007-07-04T08:53:00.000+08:00

The continous and widespread fragmentation of the Church has been the scandal of all the ages. It has been Satan's master strategy. The sin of disunity probably has caused more souls to be lost than all other sins combined.

Paul Billheimer
Love Covers(Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1981)

Today I learned that unity does not begin in examining others' fault but in examining my own faults. I realized it is a bit tiring demanding for change when I am no capable of admitting that I am not perfect myself.

The answer to arguments? Acceptance. The first step to unity? Acceptance. Not agreement, unanimity, negotiation, arbitration or elaboration but ACCEPTANCE. Everything else follows. As there is no way we are told to build unity but only to keep unity.

“I pray for these followers, but I am also praying for all those who will believe in me because of their teaching. Father, I pray that they can be one. As you are in me and I am in you, I pray that they can also be one in us. Then the world will believe that you sent me"
John 17:20-21

The Times They Are A-Changin'

2007-07-02T15:50:00.000+08:00

Robert Zimmerman (Jewish) 1964

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

It was only recently that I've read about this American icon (and i was surprised to discover that he is a Jew)...the great poet who helped shaped the future of popular music. Armed with his pen and guitar, spiced with the guts to challenge his own genius, Zimmerman became the youngest topical song writer to emerge in the 60s.

As the rest of his peers are busy with school...science and listening to local radio tunes, this young lad has ears on Little Richard and Woodie Guthrie...

Now I have better things to write about as I become entangled with the roots of a musical genius whom I often hear but never had the time to listen to.

If the point is sharp, and the arrow is swift, it can pierce through the dust no matter how thick.

Positive Minus

2007-06-12T21:32:00.000+08:00

A friend once asked me, what in the world are you writing about? What are those things? Where do you get it and how do you find the time to spend thinking about such things?

How would I answer that? My thoughts can only be written at the moment that my heart can speak the truest of its intention. The veracity of my actions has defined itself in a manner that I would not have imagined before. Buoyant as it may seem, but I never intended the curtains to close in grief and distrust.

And as I am always boldly saying, I would stand for what I believed in…NO MATTER WHAT THE COST. Then suddenly… as I review my past actions written on life’s voucher, there’s one thing missing – virtue. You read it right. There was a lack of virtue in what I believed in. I got me a safe place to stand, I had the words to speak, I had a clear understanding of the self-in-a-bottle-of-time attitude but the backbone of all of it was not much founded on rectitude.

All I have now is a picture of the laughter. Though I intend to hear the laughter again, the image itself is still and silent.

But life has to go on.

But one thing I need to do: Forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead, “To press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:14

The time I only have is now, and I wait for tomorrow with the promise of hope and a better future. To seek favor from the heart of the One whom I broke, He who has loved me with an everlasting love.

The storm left for now, but before I get caught in another storm. I would allow the leaves to dry. And when the leaves are dry enough, then would I touch it with confidence, gently hold it firm and with the grace of Him who paints the rainbow in the sky… I will overcome.

I am sorry for the rainy days… I am not used to bringing umbrella when it rains!

>,"<

Blessed Wind #001

2007-06-11T10:29:00.000+08:00

The Wind Heads North

2007-05-28T07:39:00.000+08:00

An epilogue to “Love Letter to the Wind”
Sevenink in Singapore
5:10am 05-28-2007

“In your graceful and unfathomed steps, you leave a trail for hope to follow. As the leaves kiss the ground when you head home to the north, so will my heart lie peaceful beneath the adornment of dust and shingles that covers my chest.”

85 miles north of the Equator, a few hours shy of sunrise, with a cup of coffee pretending to be my soul mate, I hurried to my laptop in dire hope to write in words the absence of words in my lips.

In the past few days, the Sovereign God introduced Himself to me as the God of details. Many times in my life He proved how majestic the works of His hand is, how he turns worship inside the church to a glimpse of heaven. How He turns mourning into dancing by quenching the thirst of the desperate souls.

But despite His glorious powers displayed in ways that makes every “believer” shun his own god (or even former gods), despite the grandiosity of the sick being healed and sinners being delivered, there are things that are mostly untouched following these words, “I thank the Lord for…”

As our name gets called to stand on the pulpit to testify on God’s goodness, a miniature time-machine gears up at the back of our mind speeding its way to the last time God proved himself to us.

Does it always need to be artistic? Do you need a lot of words to speak “Praise God?”

If God have numbered even the hairs of our head, and if He names all the stars in the sky, then He is in real serious business of touching our lives even in the animosity of our confused society. Even in the unnoticed details that exist with every second of history. In fact, He has crafted us in detail (“fearfully and wonderfully made”). Have you heard of placing an electrode in the human scalp just to record the electrical activity in the brain? Oh well, if there’s anyone else other than God who better understands how each of our brains should perform such activity, I’d give him my life. Do you know that the human heart has two separate parts? One collecting de-oxygenated blood, the other, collects oxygenated blood. A meshwork of cardiac muscle cells, who planned all this?

Truth of details versus the status-quo preference.

What if you are trapped in an island with only the earth’s crust to comfort you, can you dance your way into praising Him? With the immovable rocks before you and the heat of the sun exposing the absence of shade in a radius of 5Km, can we shake our own hands and tell ourselves “I’m glad you are here?”

Without the sound of the cymbals, the amplified rhythm section of a loud band, without a microphone in your hand, without the presence of a rejoicing peer, without the pastor, without your best friend, without your loved one, without everything else. Only God’s promise in your heart…brethren how would you praise God?

Is praise possible in the absence of everything else? Yes, you might say, but have you gone that road before? And are you willing to travel that unpopular direction if you are led to?

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior.
Habakkuk 3:17-18

A Ray of Hope for Philippine Politics

2007-05-19T00:41:00.000+08:00

Sevenink in Singapore

05-19-2007 12:45am

Gone were the days that the governance of the three stars and the sun were diminished by fame, so to speak. Darlene Custodio, making the lead over a crowd favorite boxer and Eddie "Among Ed" Panlilio with a surprising lead over the son of Leon Guerrero and the wife of a suspected gambling lord gives reason for the young generation to hope.

It’s high time that Filipino’s regain the momentum of choosing better options for their nation. In earlier times, greater exposure in the boob tube and top billing a popular movie no matter how shallow the story is, will give you greater chances of landing a place in the political arena. A place where heroes spill their blood holding integrity and truth as their only assets.

Now, with actors vying for a seat in the senate not landing the top 20 of early tallies proves that popularity alone is not enough. The people have had enough of the popular guys wearing suites instead of aprons.

Aside from this one news that is so appallingly numbing to my skull, TU gets 12-0 in Maguindanao. I’m not that good at mathematics, but when stupidity overshadows logic in the most obvious way, people really do exist in dreamland. I don’t know about substance abuse, but Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin cut lines of crack till their brain stops functioning. The TU guys obviously are not on the road to being OD’d but how come their brain seems to be at loss? Hold your breath, Singson at number 1 followed by Pichay at number 2.

Laughing stock of Asia you would say?

I say no. For this matter is not of the laughing nature. With gnashing of teeth, people involved and who are still subject to the norms of righteousness should stand out for this horrendous feat.

Can’t say the TU guys are not worth it, but for obvious reasons, let’s not allow a circus act dictate our future. Whoever the operators of this abysmal craft should find out for themselves this early where they are heading.

12-0?

Ok let’s go back to paragraph one.

Love Letter to the Wind

2007-05-08T23:34:00.000+08:00

Sevenink in Singapore
05.08.07 11:41pm

The helm of time rolls over with a counterfeit bliss attached to its series of countless revolution. In the solace of nature’s warm embrace, I find each moment more invigorating by your presence in my every breath. Though I desire to hold you as you softly swift in front of me, the world may hate me for my selfish carnality to own what is not mine. And as another life breathes you from the opposite side of the world, thus, my will to take you as mine will be forsaken.

In your graceful and unfathomed steps, you leave a trail for hope to follow. As the leaves kiss the ground when you head home to the north, so will my heart lie peacefully beneath the adornment of dust and shingles that covers my chest.

I seek to find rest with you alone in my arms. But how? Calmly you stay but my eyes can’t see you. I can only see you when you swim through the trees with a lovely song . Oh the cruelty of the forest will not make my heart believe that I can't love you. Though tall trees hinders me to follow you, the comfort of the streams that feeds their roots shall lead me to you.

Oh great wind! Speak softly to my ear and tell me where you are heading. Though I may not find ways to make you safe to your chosen place, still, I can build a fence of prayers that my heart alone can give.

Never mind the rain, never mind the heat of the sun... for your breeze will hide my tears and bring forth a cooling soothe of confidence to my weary soul.

The night approaches, will you be here when I sleep? It won’t matter for tomorrow I will wake up and breathe the first air for a new day. I know it’s you, the wind who will stay long after my name is forgotten by everyone. Everyone who will witness my frail body being sealed under the same ground that the leaves have kissed when you left.

And then will I know where your home is. Need I knock when my heart is already at home with you?

Unfathomed Tears

2007-05-01T00:45:00.000+08:00

Sevenink in Singapore
05.01.2007 11:45pm

We have the right to cry without the whole world knowing why!

I woke up in the saddest of my days, can’t hardly pray that’s why I just told God what’s in my heart. Today I lost my most treasured possession, which I can not throw away, and plan to throw away, has found a way out on its own. With all its glory and beauty and majesty, the treasure bid goodbye to me.

Last night, the mischief in me caught a glimpse of its own misdeed in mid-air. Of all things to pray about, I prayed about death. I pray that God take me from where I am because I would not know where I would be after the last page of the book turned and galloped to eternity. Where do I pick up the pieces of a broken glass window, and if found out where, why would I pick it? It would only make me bleed!

Minutes after I closed my eyes to sleep, death came knocking at my door. Never was death so vivid and clear in his intention of pulling me out of this earth. The bed I was sleeping has a second deck on top. Suddenly, a rumbling feeling came out of me, I could see the second deck and what’s fascinating is I could visibly see that I’m on my way pass the deck on top of me, and I could really feel my body is still laying on the first deck. It was slow sure death. But I thought about names of persons, of people, then I shouted and I woke up.

How do I pray after that ludicrous stunt?

My first time to read the bible from the back of my tears, imagine yourself inside a car as rain pours heavily outside and on the opposite side of the window you find little words scribbling for your attention. Hard to grasp. But as I am in dire need of God’s word this morning, I just opened my mouth and transcribed the pain I’m feeling inside.

As hopeless as it may seem, I did not waiver to seek for one Word, anything at all that would untie the cord that is strangling my consciousness this very minute.

Then the awesome display of God’s abundant provision took center stage.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him”

Pointblank, the summation of all good things I thought of, I planned to have, all the worth of this world that I strive to keep as myself – they all became like a dew on a leaf in a forest compared to the One who created the forest.

This is what I call small time.

I plan to buy my own Mac this year, I plan to drive my own car next year, I dreamed of plotting my own orbit for the greatest love I’ve had and I see myself as a successful creative artist with limitless access to my digital canvass. Of course I also have different things in my mind other than these which are nothing less than hedonistic. But I choose to discuss anything positive out of myself this time as to avoid confusion. Besides, I’m portraying the role of a super villain here. (Remember a few paragraphs earlier I prayed for death?)

Small time it is.

Now I don’t have a choice but to wait. But for sure, never again will I pray for death. Never again would I reduce the time allotted for me to traverse this road ahead. And with these words, I hope to plant a smile to the beauty of the night; to the color I love most, to the walking shadow under the heat of the sun, to the half of march, to the silent wailer, to the crying voice. I will see the unfolding of God’s promise in a time that is only His.

The Sting of Goodbye

2007-04-27T19:48:00.000+08:00

Sevenink in Singapore

04.26.2007 7:54pm

According to Yahoo Education;

No doubt more than one reader has wondered exactly how goodbye is derived from the phrase "God be with you." To understand this, it is helpful to see earlier forms of the expression, such as God be wy you, god b'w'y, godbwye, god buy' ye, and good-b'wy. The first word of the expression is now good and not God, for good replaced God by analogy with such expressions as good day, perhaps after people no longer had a clear idea of the original sense of the expression. A letter of 1573 written by Gabriel Harvey contains the first recorded use of goodbye: "To requite your gallonde [gallon] of godbwyes, I regive you a pottle of howdyes," recalling another contraction that is still used.

Wikipedia has the same thing to say about this word, a traditional farewell phrase used in the English language.

This word has always been used primarily to connote leaving something or someone important to your heart. Not to the level of deserting their importance or having no use to them but its just that other elements of life much supreme than you or what you have needs to take its toll as to set in place somehow how the universe should work, and as most of us would agree, the culprit would be, none other than – TIME.

Yes so much have been going on for ages as time sits by his most comfortable corner and in most of time’s capability to laugh at lives missing most of its worth using time in the wrong way you end up in tears. And then unknowingly, time shows off its cruelty by speeding away from you when you most enjoyed it. Time is more supreme than joy, is more powerful than love, time can be peaceful but peace can not over write time.

The most absurd idea you might say from someone who does websites, yes I might live from the age of gigabytes and ones and zeroes. But more than any other living species on this earth I’ve had my share of time’s cruel intentions because I believe nothing could have ever happened without it – without time. How can you find yourself as a thirty year old geek without time passing by? How can you promise someone a future if time won’t pass by and bring that future at your hands? And God would return when? Time will tell right?

And where does that leave us? Are we just accidents waiting to happen? I beg to disagree. Sometimes I think if there’s something next to God in terms of supremacy, it would be time. Time sits someplace near God’s throne so that when we pray for something, God’s answer would come in a package delivered with time.

Even saying goodbye must be in coordination with time cause logically you cant say goodbye to things that time have not yet given you. And who would know if you will find yourself walking the same path again? Of course, time would.

I’ve had the greatest this world has to offer, I’ve had the most profound lifestyle that one could not imagine me having. I’ve been cruelly loved by the most defiant of creatures who wears name tags that read “friends”. Now time dictates that I need to pack my bags to de-synthesize my efforts to build from the ruins of unmet social norms, from the accordions of legalism, from the arc of man’s definitive covenant to survival. All of these I hide in the shadow of history’s most significant piece of wood, to a place not worthy for a King, where one Man ended all humanitarian efforts to unite the creation to the Creator. To where the Savior bid goodbye not to us but to the power of death over us.

You define time whichever way you wish, you call it the most beautiful name you want, pack it in the most expensive cloth or even preserve it in some way but at the end of the day the workflow leads to one single time-table.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 God has made EVERYTHING beautiful in His time. Goodbye has it's sting in my own time but never in God’s.

Defeating Ignorant Grief

2007-04-25T09:42:00.000+08:00

SevenInk in Singapore
04.25.2007 09:30 AM

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Psalm 90:14 NIV

I began this day reciting this verse repeatedly, amidst my tears in hope that suddenly I would start singing for joy and be glad all my days.

Unfailing love, translated in the Amplified Bible as God’s mercy and loving-kindness. To where shall I put my trust in times that trust has lost its ground inside the very core of my heart. To where shall I seek joy when my weary eyes have given way to my tears as its master.

Nowadays, when silence seems so loud and grief is comfortable in its new-found home which is my being, making the next step feels like a feat requiring higher level of knowledge. My right foot can’t make its move as my left foot is so sturdy and careless of its other half.

Oh, grief is so ignorant and does not even care to learn. (L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert). Ever watched this in real time? Ever had all the colors in your palette but you end up painting grayscale? How about drinking water from an empty glass and yet you expect to be filled?

Pain has numerous ways to count its way inside a man’s heart. Yet my heart would decide if pain indeed would have its way inside me. But as the battle heightens up, I begin to realize that I’m losing by TKO. I seek protection inside the covering of the mighty armor of silence yet the fiercest of my thoughts beats the hell out of me.

I lay my armor, I stare at the horizon, I touch the soft wind and like a whisper to a thunderous scream, I uttered in defeat to God, “lay down your game plan and I’ll zoom my way against all foes knowing You planned it”.

Now I wait for the certain peace in uncertain time. But as God holds the hands of the clock, it would stop whenever its destined to stop.

Time is running out for this mortal breath of mine. But the immortality of eternity waits with abundant joy as the rest of the soldiers of God who lived in this world gloriously triumph bearing no sign of their wounds and no blood to spill as the blood of the Savior already spilled its way for my redemption.

Our joys are made better when sorrow is in the midst of them. And our sorrows become bright through the joys that God has planted around them.(L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert)

Unleavened Thoughts

2007-04-18T20:10:00.000+08:00

16th of April, 11:48 pm, gate 3 NAIA. Waiting for our boarding announcement, I am now bored, who would not be? My plane ticket says I should have left 3 hours ago,(meaning, I should be in Singapore by now) but still here I am, already bought 2 phone cards to talk to my friends. Oh life, I asked them, “would you want me to leave?, The plane won’t start” my friend just giggled over the phone and told me, “don’t know anything about it”. Good to hear a voice of an angel friend.

This is the most boring boredom that ever landed my bored thoughts. To make matters worst, my mobile phone is almost dead. Why in the world would I keep my phone charger on the bag that I checked in and not on the bag that I’m carrying now? Maybe it’s a result of a Dysphiriangenetical Immuno Acidic Mutation Of Nerves, in short – Lack of Sleep, in Tagalog - “Puyat”.(Ok I admit, I made it up!)

Yes it was a wild ride, the last few days was like a train bound to kingdom come. Everything is scattered on my soft damped carpet, my books are all in place (all of them occupies random location on a Cartesian plane that I call my home)

I don’t know anyone from the group of people that are also bored waiting for the boarding announcement but I find solace in being far from anyone that I knew, for a while but not for a moment.

Now, it made me think about what I would be leaving behind and where I am heading to. It could fall into several categories though, those happy plastic people that would give you their best smile armored with a claw of doubt. And those that possess the ability to shift gears on the fly.

No more waking up on sorry nights, fearing my own tears and clogging my dreams with fabricated sunsets. The final countdown has reached its end, as silence makes up for the lost time that dissonance has taken for itself. I now hold on to the peace that passes all understanding, to the most significant thing that money can not buy, to the happiness that was tainted with eloquent beliefs of the wandering spectators.

Finally, the boarding announcement. And as usual you would hear the “sorry for the inconvenience” litany, as if it would help. And as I board my plane, I leave the rest of my life to the One who would hold my plane to its safe landing, the One who would allow me to walk the road in safety. To the One who knows my most precious thoughts, even my most lonely days. The fear of leaving supersedes the fear of having to start all over again.

It is so hard to cry. But it’s harder to be the reason for someone else’s tears.

Hold your breath.

A mutant’s ordeal of a weird lover of laughter and tears

2007-04-12T00:10:00.000+08:00

[Pinakamagulong blog na naisulat ko...mutant mode kasi ako dito december pala nung last ako ng blog..grabe tagal na...]

Intro
Paputol-putol ang ftp connection ko habang ang puno ng saging sa tabi ko ay mayabang na nagsasabing ikaw kasi…pasaway ka!

Ang hirap simulan ng kwentong sasabihin ko ngayon kya sinimulan ko ng walang kwenta…pero kung malalaman nyo lang kung ano tlga gusto kong ikwento ay malamang mamangha kayo at tumugon kayo ng napakamadamdaming “OK!”

Chapter 1 Nagsimula ang Lahat sa Hangin
Sige proceed na tayo, halos tatlong taon na ng una kong narinig ang busina ng jeep sa Remedios at nalanghap ang usok ng nagmamadaling jeep ulit papunta sa Monumento, ngayon malapit nko lumayas ng Pilipinas andun pa rin ang usok na kumakapit sa uniporme ng tiwaling traffic enforcer na wala ng ginawa kundi ang mag piko sa kalye gamit ang makapal na mukha bilang pamato.

Simula noon naging madalas na kung gabi ako umuwi meron kasing training sa isang basement sa San Marcelino, mangilan-ngilang kaluluwa ang dumadalaw dun para makulong ng ilang saglit sa piling ng malaking daga na sobrang mahiyain. Dun ko nakilala ang mga kaibigan ko na inabot na ng bagyo at tidal wave ay kaibigan ko pa rin. Salamat sa inyo ha? At lumipas man ang sandamakmak na rally sa Pilipinas, magkikita pa rin tayo kasi hindi naman tayo bulag. (corny ng joke ko bad trip)

Chapter 2 Para mama!!... bago mag Estrella!
Ansaya nung mga panahon na hindi pa kumplikado ang buhay papunta sa petplans, hindi pa nakakalito pumara ng bus sa pagitan ng tulay at overpass, at hindi pa kelangang sumakay ng elevator na papuntang 11th floor(na nag iisang buhay na palapag sa building na yun nung panahon n iyon).

Chapter 3 Bulong ng Palad
Bago pa dumating ang mga kwento, madami ng kwentuhan, bago dumating ang mga nagpipilit makinig ng mga piniling tinig ay marami na kong nadinig. Antagal na panahon na din palang lumipas madaming tao na rin ang dumaan sa trangkahan ng atensiyon ko. Sabi ng isang kaibigan kong matalik, masyado daw ako mapili sa mga kinakaibigan ko. Aba! At mapili pa pala ako ng lagay na ito? Teka meron bang taong hindi namili ng kaibigan niya? Maliban nlang kung politiko ka malamang gawin mo ito, pero sa katulad nating namamasahe lang ng 9 pesos sa bus na byaheng cubao to boni avenue ay dapat mamili tayo ng kaibigan natin diba?

Chapter 4 Share a Load, Win a Friend
Ewan ko sa iyo at diyan sa katabi mong nagbabasa din nitong blog ko pero ako talaga mas gusto kong mamili ng taong pagkakatiwalaan, yung tipong hindi ka tlga iiwan sa balag ng alanganin. Yung kahit panis na pop corn at boring na soda ay sasamahan ka kasi ang mahalaga yung magkasama kayo at kaya nyong magalit sa isa’t isa ng harapan tapos kakain na kayo ulit ng popcorn at soda, hindi yung plastic na chocolate walnut brownies at choco frap na nagpapanggap na whip cream kapiling ng ngiting pumupunit sa circumference ng mukha ng kausap mo mula kanang tenga hanggang kaliwang tenga.

Chapter 5 Sigaw!
“Huwag ka diyan” sigaw ng katipunerong may hawak na iPod, ng tanungin ng barberong may dalang cd ng cueshe, “bakit?” ang sagot ng katipunero, “sapagkat sinabi ko at ako ay katipunero” - ang labo diba? Minsan ganun sa mundong ibabaw eh, kahit sa mundong gilid at mundong ilalim, nangyayari yun kahit pa munggo lang ang ulam nyo mangyayari pa rin yun. May taong mag-sasabi sayo ng isang bagay na ang basehan lang niya ay kasi siya yun.

Chapter 6 Basang Sisiw sa Gilid ng Tuyong Kalan
Nakakatuwa din minsan na manood ng trailer ng isang suspense thriller na pelikula sa mukha ng kausap mo. Suspense kasi di mo alam kung ano kasunod na sasabihin, thriller kasi nakaka-shock kapag nalaman mo ang susunod na sasabihin, hindi mo alam san nanggaling.

Chapter 7 Wear Your Smile Always - Zionne
Naku katext ko ang kaibigan ko habang ginagawa ko ang blog na ito, at ang payo niya mag-hunos dili daw ako, sabi ko nagsusulat lang naman ako, wala naman akong inaaway. Ska isa pa napagod ako sa trabaho kaya kelangan ko magsulat, ang pagsusulat ay isang bitamina ng utak ko na nakakakapagrelax. Nawawala ang pressure ng trabaho pag nagsusulat ako, nalilimutan ko ang lahat ng problema ko at tumatahimik ako habang nagsusulat.

Conclusion
Sige sa hindi malamang dahilan, tatapusin ko na itong blog ko, anlabo ng title ng blog ko noh?, kahit anong hanap mo dito sa sinulat ko di mo matatagpuan ang ibig kong sabihin unless na weird ka din katulad ko, ay hindi pala ako weird, mutant pala ako.

The Trojan Masterpiece

2006-12-21T14:57:00.000+08:00

12.21,2006
A day after the second day
Manila

Disrespectful of authority, radical cynicism, sordid agendas, all in a day’s work. Wonder how you would fill in the gap between being a role model and a visual artist. The latter requiring me to give fewer compliments in exchange for the truth. Majority of the people who would first see the way I work would hate me, that’s almost 95% of the time. But I choose not to become a crowd pleaser still. If some people would not prefer the way I talk, and the way I grumble, I guess they were not the ones who are willing to witness the unfolding of a mystery called, “myself”.

Reckoning tango, what a way to amplify your own worth. Yes it’s true that what most of us have done is too tiring, but is it not tiring also to talk behind some other person’s back? When would people find the guts to tell someone straight in the face that “hey shut up you’re not the only one working here” instead they comfort you with a semi conductor smile and with a synthetic attitude of asking you to eat with them, to join them and the final blow, thanking you for what you have done.

Fears you said? Paranoia? Not in words spoken out of the one who heard. Anyways no time to ask who you are. It’s your call but don’t expect me to come knocking at your door and say “I’m sorry, I do not intend it to be that way”, definitely not, not unless you tell me my faults and not to someone else.

The cancer that ate the system is that all the faces wore a smile before me that very day, and me, in a jolly mood, unsuspecting of a bullet from a friendly fire have bared open amidst the ammunition of acrobatic verbal stunts.

It’s the experts versus the expertise.

Maybe the pull of gravity is less than 9.81m/s(s) from where I am standing, but it doesn’t mean that I validate myself as an object of scorn.

Even dirt has its own place in the ground!

Panahon Na Naman[Dekada Otsenta Part 2]

2006-11-30T19:19:00.000+08:00

Una sa lahat, salamat sa mga tugon ng mga tagahanga ng aking blog, salamat sa inyong text at email (magkapatid pa naman kayong dalawa hehehe)

Eto na tayo ulit. Ang dekada otsenta ay hindi lang tungkol sa palabas sa TV, ito ay isang lifestyle na mahirap iwanan. Isang klase ng pamumuhay na nakasanayan na at nakakabit na sa bawat labi na magsasabing siya ay malapit ng mag trenta anyos.

Spray Net. Huwag mong sabihin na ni minsan ay di mo sinubukan gumamit ng spray net ha? Oh cmon! Lalo na ng sumikat si Romnick Sarmienta with matching high-cut na rubber shoes. Dalawa lang ang direksyon ng mga buhok natin nun. Pakaliwa at Pakanan. Yung bangs matigas. Tama ba?

Bagets. Ang bagets ay di lamang pelikula ni Aga Mulach, William Martinez, JC Bonnin at Raymond Lauchengco(tama ba spelling?) Ang bagets ay estilo na rin ng damit. Yung tipong pagbukas mo ng aparador lahat ng kulay na Makita mo ay isusuot mo, at dapat may tali ka sa ulo habang kumakanta ng mga kanta ng Menudo. Wahaha..Menudo naisip ko pa yun. Si Robby Rosa yun…”Got to catch that plane at 7:30..” bunso nila si Ricky Martin at nung pumunta sila sa Pilipinas at mag guest sa Student Canteen, grabe daig ang labanang Pacquiao-Morales(mga boksingerong nabuhay din nung dekada otsenta)

Yakult! San mo unang nakita ang yakult? At saan mo siya madalas makita dati…hmmm ako madalas ko siya makita sa Kuarta o Kahon, yung Yakult:Roleta ng Kapalaran, madalas itong filler sa show ni Kuya Pepe Pimentel, yung laging kaaway ang biyenan niya. RPN9 ito palabas at dito ka makakakita ng malulufet na advertisement..dito rin natin madalas marinig ang national anthem ng mga wallet…”Seiko, Seiko Wallet ang wallet na masuwerte!” cmon raise your hands and sing with me..”Balat nito ay genuine, international pa ang mga design”. Nakakapagod ba? Hindi masyado.

Noong panahon na iyon, wala pang internet. Si Bill Gates ay manina pa sa chicks at si Steven Tyler ng Aerosmith ay kaya pang mag push up ng bente tuwing umaga. Pero kahit walang internet napakarami nating libangan. Isa na rito ang Komiks..Sinong magsasabing ni minsan ay hindi siya nagbasa ng komiks? Ilan sa inyo ang walang patumanggang sumusunod sa kwento na nagtatapos sa ITUTULOY! At next week bibili ka ulit diba? Ano ba mga magagandang komiks dati? Tagalog Klasiks, Pilipino, Aliwan, Pioneer (susme talagang naalala ko pa) Alamat komiks hehe at siyempre ang Liwayway magazine na 1929 pala nung nagsimula ayon sa http://www.alanguilan.com/.

Nabanggit ko dati ang That’s Entertainment sa part one, request ni katotong Marlon na inlove kay Joy banggitin ko daw ang mga pangalan na ito at baka may mapangiti sa inyo. Caselyn Francisco (talagang inuna si Caselyn?), Rudolph Yaptinchay(malay ko sa spelling ng apelyido neto), Benedict Aquino, Nikki Martel, Jojo Alejar, Jestoni Alarcon, at Michael Locsin, haba pa ng listahan tama na muna yan.

May Playstation ka ba ngayon o kaya X-Box? Aba wala yan sa ating kauna unahang computer game noon. ATARI! Naalala ko sumakit ang kamay ko dahil sa kakalaro ng Pac-Man gamit ang joystick nung unang panahon. Pero masaya ang Atari diba?

Sabado anong pinapanood mo? Ako FPJ sa GMA antagal nun, ang galing ni DaKing, lalo na yung mga war movies andami nyang kalaban na hapon pero take note, isa niya lang naka black siya para kitang kita siya sa black and white na screen dati, simple lang ang plot ng mga movie ni FPJ, mahuhuli, gugulpihin, tatakas at reresbak, ganun lagi yun. Ilang mga movies na napanood ko dito ay ang Asedilio, Ang Maestro, Aguila, Durugin si Totoy Bato, Daniel Barrion at syempre ang Panday(special mention si Tata Temiong na nakapulot ng aklat na itim) Tapos di natin alam pagkatapos ng ilang dekada...magiging magkalabang mortal pala ang dalawa na yun FPJ at GMA.

Iba pang palabas sa TV nun na sinubaybayan ng maraming wala pang email address sa Yahoo ay ang; Villa Quintana, Aguila at Valiente(Val Sotto era) Ula ang batang Gubat(Judy Ann Santos)

Last but not the least for this series: Wrestling, halos lahat tayo nanood nito. Siyempre kilala nyo si Hulk Hogan at Ultimate Warrior, Andre the Giant at Yokuzuna. Pati si Earthquake yung long hair na malaking tao din. Meron pa ngang issue nun na si Ultimate Warrior ay hindi na si Ultimate Warrior, ang gulo diba? Kasi namatay na daw dahil napatiran ng ugat. Mga ganung kwento na sinubaybayan natin nung panahon na iyon. Naalala nyo ba si Ravishing Rick Rude? Yung nahubaran sa ring. Si Hacksaw Jim Dougan na ang drama eh may pumalo sa kanya ng kahoy kya mula nun naging wrestler na din siya at siyempre tuwang tuwa tayo kapag may kontrabida na nagiging bida katulad ni Undertaker na laging kasama si Pole Bearer. May dagdag pa ako ha? Si Junkyard Dog at si Jake the Snake Roberts.

Makulay tlga ang Dekada Otsenta, sabi nga sa mga blog na nabasa ko ito ang pinakamasayang panahon kahit wala pang internet at MP3 player masayang masaya na tayo sa mga pinaglalaruan natin katulad ng Pepsi Cola- 7 Up, Siyato, Langit-Lupa Impiyerno(Im-Im-Impiyerno), at Tumbang preso. Saka pag nasa skul tayo nung elementary gustong gusto natin pag birthday ng classmate natin kasi may spaghetti at cake at ice cream at kung mayaman ang classmate mo may clown pa. Mga maliit na bagay na ang sarap i-appreciate. Parang jolens at yo-yo na paborito nating laruin after skul kasama ng Teks(yung parang mga ginupit na komiks, kung dalawa lang kayong magkalaban ang tawag dun sa isang card ay PANABLA), at Kalog(may tatlong pitsa na aalugin ka sa loob ng nakasaradong palad tapos ang pustahan ang mga laruan na na-free sa mga chichirya, may iba’t ibang denomination ito, yung Panday na malambot, ang bilang nun minsan bente minsan trenta, yung maliliit na sundalong kulay green isa lang ang bilang nun, malalaman mong addict ka na sa sugal na ito kung ipinusta mo na ang GI Joe mo n original kasi 500 ang bilang nun, o kya yung Barbie Doll ng kapatid mong babae na minsan ay 1000 ang bilang..PS na-addict ako dito kaya alam ko) Tapos pag gusto niyong pawisan dahil boring na ang Kalog, pumupuwesto kayo kahit saang parte ng kalsada at gumuguhit ng maliit na box tapos sa mejo malayong lugar may Persan…ang tawag dito Tatsing, pagalingan ng hagis kung sinong first malamang ikaw ang madaming makabig at kung last ka naman malamang ang susunod mo ng tira ay sa persan ulit.

Madami pa!

Panahon Na Naman

2006-11-21T18:12:00.000+08:00

Dekada Otsenta…kainitan ng akng kamalayan. Aking na-alala courtesy of Kuya Paul, Ate Dina, Henson at may extra pang Joanne at Jane at special na bisita from Bench, si JM. Ansaya ng tugtugan. Naalala ang maraming bagay mula sa REO Speedwagon hanggang sa Starship. Mga bandang sumikat nung panahon na halos kaka memorize ko pa lang ng multiplication table (Note: High School na ako ay namamangha pa ako sa multiplication table at kung papipiliin mas gusto kong kabisahin ang sagot sa crossword puzzle ng pinakasikat na tabloid noon…ang Balita)

Sige. Isa isahin natin. At kung ikaw ay nahilig kay Usher, Black Eyed Peas at sa Linkin Park, baka mejo hindi ka na makarelate ditto. Isang suhestyon isama ang inyong tiyuhin, yung pangalawa sa panganay na magkakapatid ng inyong ama. Huwag ang bunso. Pwede ang panganay.

Simulan natin kay Kuya Germs (nga pala, not in chronological order ang isusulat ko ha? Ito ay ayon sa bilis ng memorya ko habang nagkakape dito sa office ng Musikatha). Sige balik tayo kay Kuya Germs. Siya yung kung tagurian ay Master Showman. Wow! Master na Showman pa. hehehe. Si Kuya Germs ay ang nagpasikat ng mga kabataang artista nun (counterpart ng Starstruck at Star Circle Quest sa panahon ngayon) That’s Entertainment na pinakomplika ng Monday to Friday edition at magpapasikatan ito sa Saturday Presentation. Pag dating ng Linggo ay mapapanood mo pa rin si Kuya Germs sa GMA Supershow.

Bigla ko naalala ang rivalry ni Ate Guy at Ate Vi. Eh usapan dekada otsenta hindi post-war era. Kaya wag na natin palalimin ang topic tungkol sa kanila.

Ano pa ba? Cafeteria Aroma ni Apeng Daldal, grabe walang sinabi ang mga sitcoms ngayon kay pareng Apeng, aba nakaupo lang ito lagi sa isang mesa kasama si Minyong, ang classical na gitarista na opposite ang haba ng patilya nya sa haba ng bangs nya. Pareho na yatang sumakabilang buhay ang dalawang ito, ewan ko lang kya mejo ito nlang muna ang description natin sa kanila.

Meron pa akong naalalang mga palabas sa TV, yung Dayuhan, si Hero Bautista ang bida dito, tuturo nya lang ang kamay nya na parang si Hitler tapos may mangyayari na. Papasok siya sa isang kubo pag labas nya parang time space warp na yun ibang lugar na mapupuntahan nya. Siyempre anjan din ang Yagit, at Gulong ng Palad. Pag mejo ndi ka pa naiiyak eh alalahanin mo ang Flor De Luna at yung kay Julie Vega(RIP) I forgot the title eh text nyo nlang ako pag naalala nyo ha?

Teka, kung ikaw ay nsa edad 25 pababa at nagbabasa ka pa neto. Aba dapat kang palakpakan kasi ibig sabihin maraming naitagong Liwayway magasin ang Tita mo (kapatid nung Tiyuhin mo na binabanggit ko kanina) Kahanga hanga at nakakarelate ka pa dito. Bravo Macro!

Sige tuloy tayo, alam nyo ba ang Eat Bulaga? Hindi yun ang paguusapan natin kundi ang Student Canteen, kung hindi ako nagkakamali kasunod nito ang Lovingly Yours Helen, walang sinabi ang Malaala mo Kaya at Magpakailnman dito, kasi dito nagsimula yung katagang, “Dear Ate Helen, itago nyo nlang ako sa pangalang…..” kainis no? bakit itago sa pangalan eh magtatago nlang bakit hindi pa sa middle initial or apelyido diba mas safe? Tignan nyo..”Dear Ate Helen, itago nyo nlang ako sa apelyidong…” o diba tagong-tago malamang hehehe.

Siyempre hindi lang puro tagalong ang palabas sa TV, meron ding English. Alam nyo ba yung The A Team? Si B.A. Baraccus? Isa lang naman ang plot nila eh. Makukulong sila sa isang kuwarto tapos mag fifigure out sila ng maraming paraan para makalabas at di mo namamalayan may tangke na silang nabuo gamit ang mga lumang cabinet, sintas ng combat shoes, table napkin, pihitan ng lumang transistor at 110 volts na bumbilya.(McGyver ang palabas na halos katulad nito). Hay naku ang haba pa ng listahan. Meron ding kotseng itim na nagsasalita na kung tagurian ay Knight Rider, singer na ngayon ang bida dun. Pero bago siya naging singer ay naging lifeguard muna siya sa Baywatch.

Andami ko pang gustong ikwento tawa ng tawa ang ang mga kasama ko dito sa office eh nagtatanong lang naman ako ng mga trivias nung dekada otsenta. Siguro ang gagawin ko nlang gagawan ko nlang ito ng part 2 kasi masyado na yatang mahaba. Pero actually kaya ko ng sumulat ng libro na puro patungkol lang sa dekada otsenta kaya lang boring eh. Dapat may climax sa DOJ at Comelec sa kasalukuyang panahon. Classic yun eh.

Sige hanggang dito na lang uuwi n kami eh.

Abangan ang Part 2.

If.I.Was.Rich

2006-10-23T15:36:00.000+08:00

10/23/2006 03:38pm
Singapore

If I was rich…I’d buy poverty and I’d sell them to the thieves, I could even give it to them for free…whichever way they want it, but you say thieves are already poor? I’m not talking about the poor thieves…I’m talking about influential thieves, those thieves that dictate the actions of the poorer thieves. The thieves that take away your future, your dreams, those that come to steal, and destroy (yeah sometimes they do kill….they kill hopes). If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay the debt of the whole world…I’d feed the hungry…clothe the naked and teach them how to find food with their clothes on. I remember the picture of an African child struggling in the desert for food as vultures wait for his last breath. I’d buy the desert for him and turn it into his own playground. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d make good movies…clean music…I’d make sure that no child would be involved in pornography and if there’s money left for me I’d buy pornography and put in the depths of the sea. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay drug lords, drug dealers…I’d pay them 100 times of what they are earning just to dispose of every destructive chemical in their hands. I’d pay scientists and doctors to provide a way out for the drug addicts. I’d pay them well. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay every parent to stay near their child. I’d pay them 100 times of what they earn at work and give time to their children. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d buy every weapon of mass destruction and dispose of them…I’d pay world leaders to shut up because they can’t do a thing about it. I’d buy the United Nations and create real unity among nations. I’d put a price to every war effort that any world leader would think of. If only I was rich.

But…..

I am not rich…that’s why I wrote this blog. ‘cause if I am really rich. I WOULD NOT CARE… ‘cause I would not know what poverty is…I would not know that drugs are destructive and I would get richer selling weapons. And if you watch a movie with me? I’d make sure there’s blood all over the screen. And I would leave my family behind, who cares? they would be rich also.

Maybe I would be paying people to write my blog. And I have so much money I would not really care what those people write.

Thank God, I’m not rich. Thank God for today.

And I pray. If God would make me rich. It would be worth it.

WORTH IT!

Losing.Life

2006-10-22T00:11:00.000+08:00

Losing.Life
Bedok North Ave 3, Singapore
11:59pm 10/21/2006

Oh joy, I left you on solid ground before I fell to the silence of my growing pain. I can’t remember how you looked like as you sneak from behind my dreams. I can’t see clearly as I search from the wholeness of you. If I would have the riches of this world and not have joy, I’d rather trade my breath for one cold smile. I’d rather leave my shadow for the glory of the stars in the sky.

Forgotten, that’s where I would be going, that’s what I would become. To all the souls I passed by, walked with, lived with and loved as my own. From dust I come from, dust I am, dust I become. And as you don’t call dust by name. I become equal with nothing, a prelude to vacancy. The art of the work of my hand which dignified the color of calmness is now a resounding vastness of defeat.

Saved by grace.

This is what matters.

Regardless of being left alone…regardless of being humiliated with my own deeds. Salvation came.

And as you leave, wherever you will be...the promise will always conquer all doubts.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Phil 4:7

Day.One

2006-10-19T10:02:00.000+08:00

Just this morning, I was cramming on a marketing presentation minus the basic number of hours required to sleep. With the tender aroma of a half awake consciousness I left my agenda of having a successful slumber party years ago when I have no plan of doing the things that I am over capable of doing now.

Working in the wee hours of the morning, its so good to have a friend to stand up with you when your own adulterated organizational skills are listed some hundreds of steps below the “Ten Effective Steps to Become Effective”. Thanks to somebody else, things are getting done the way it should be.

In a sense, if you may not learn to do a specific skill, and somebody else gave you a hand along the way, you learn even greater things. You learn intangible things much better than digital outputs. You learn to smile, you learn to care more and to give up on truth, you learn to wake up on the right side of the bed, you learn to inspire other people to give out their true smile.

“True smile” whoever has this nowadays is worth envying in exponential proportions. It’s just around the corner of “True joy” and “Peace that passes all understanding”. It’s not so difficult to give yet so distant to achieve. It is life’s purpose meter. It tells you how to go on when things are on the halt. It is something I don't see in the mirror every morning. Radiantly, I saw this in a friend. And thankfully I have a clear marker to where I should be tapping the rods of my “self-achieving” motives.

4.30 pm, somewhere above the earth, besides the clouds, on a plane bound to singapore, I was blessed to have a chat with two strangers who symbolized the simplicity of what I left behind.

With simple dreams and hopes, with nothing else to hold on to, we were seated next to each other, and guess who ended up realizing that it is he who has the best of both worlds but have none to partake?

I’ll give you a clue…

There where three of us…and I was listening…

Well I guess you got it right.