The Mother of All Virtues

It is easier said than done.

Hypocrisy may be too harsh a word, but admittedly, I might have been a quarter of an inch close to it. I consider myself a disciple of the Word, yet I faltered. Just when I was given the chance to prove my worth, I failed. The human side of me forces its way out, succumbing me to my vulnerability. Excuses? Yeah, I believe so.

I read somewhere a long time ago that as children of God, we have been equipped with God-like virtues that enable us to denounce sin. Despite my gifts, my will-power is stronger than my intellect. I cave too easily.

To cut the story short, I defied, we argued. My own decision prevailed. But there's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that what I did injured a relationship, and what I was fighting for is of unworthy logic. My conscience was knocking; I slammed the door shut.

I spoke to my mom about the heated argument, and though she regretted her chiding the next day and apologized to me, she highlighted that I should have let humility influence my way of handling it. I am a soldier of Mary, I know my protocol, but at that moment when I was at the verge of spouting slurs and my level of tolerance hastily rising to the brim, I turned my back at my vows. Sigh, my mom is right.

In this temporal world where personal satisfaction is the primary goal of living, I failed to exercise the basic idea of noble service. God served all the days of His life, and here I am, an occasional disciple of His teachings. I was given the chance to introduce His presence in me, but I forgot humility. I won. I lost. And now guilt has seized me.

Connected and Useful

I was walking home today, feeling low and depressed. With my ipod vociferously singing in my ears, I traversed the path amidst this huge pile of humongous trees that are perfectly aligned by the road side. I looked up and felt the gush of wind slightly kissing my cheeks. The sun was blazing hot, but the leaves of the trees guarded me from the pigment-causing rays of the raging sun. I was astounded. Everything was an orchestra, mastered by God in all His humility. But there I was, feeling low. I was ashamed.

Early morning on my way to work I saw a crow draggingly flapping its wings, attempting to ascend despite the heavy load in between its beak. It found a road-killed animal, salivated over its seized meal, picked the cadaver up and flew effortfully. Its scavenging made me cringe. Only now that I realized, while typing this blog, that something positive permeates through this despicable action. Nothing in the world is wasted. Lives, even decaying physicality, are purposeful. Up to the very end, we still can contribute. Like the dead animal's role to the crow.

I had been consumed by the thought that what I do is unhelpful. I was feeling wasted, forgetful of the fact that everything God created is uniquely significant. And God is wise. He hid realizations in nature. All we, or specifically I, need to do is to be completely open to everything, and the answers will come as swift as a thief in the night to steal doubts. I'm learning.

I'm raising my glass to Pink, for being wrong in the right way. Fulfillment is within reach.  :)

Two ways. Two words.

There are two ways to look at things: positively and let all bright and shimmer, and negatively that even the color yellow flickers black.

There are two sides on each coin; two ways on each road. I can be kind and brutal, loveless but full of love. I can opt to laugh but implicitly aching. I can cry joyfully.

Some have not been given what is due them. I expected a glimpse of happiness but am exposed to the very definition of it. Sometimes all it takes is for us to close our eyes, open our senses to the well-endowed reality that has been intricately laid before us. Everyone deserves to be appreciated. Appreciate life. Appreciate God.

I go home nightly with the moon lighting up my way. I can choose to be grateful for the generosity of its moon beam, instead of dawdling in thought on the absence of the sun. Positivity is workable. It starts from breathing deeply and thanking God for the air that passes the delicate nostrils, the very reason we live. It continues to the bed for reaching it safely, until the closure of the eyes and feeling the soft pillow that awaits to drive our dreams. God is good, and the primary way of reciprocation is by thanking Him.

Thank You. :)

Home

Some relationships end too soon, too bitterly. My April was a headache. It severed a prospective, strong friendship. But I am glad that redemption is finally occurring.

Endurance is a virtue, along with patience and resilience. It was an exodus of emotional battle and cold war, and I expanded patience for pragmatic concerns. But recent happenings forced me to make an aggressive decision, one that is beneficial to the majority including myself. I now realize that decisions seem right when peace descends after arriving at one. And now it feels like home.

According to the World Book of Happiness, it matters not if income is lower than the previous one, so long as basic necessities are met by that limited funds, as significant increase in salary may have a minimal rise on the happiness graph. Happiness is gained not from material things but from relationships built. I will shell out more than what I used to, the trip will be longer, waking hours earlier, but friends to share worthwhile memories will turn every penny into an investment. They say we gain some, we lose some. But I say we lose some, we gain a lot. At the end of the day, relationships founded on trust equates to happiness not every nickel saved can even account for. The sum is peace of mind. And the finished product? With delicate aroma that entices the sensitive olfactory organs, freshly baked 'home'. And I am. :)

Caramel Latte

Human beings, as frail as we are, are prone to committing mistakes. Quick thinking, a beam, and a heart-felt service conceal the blemish.

I was in McDonald's last Sunday. I just purchased a book about happiness as perceived by a nation according to experts. I was very excited to start digesting the wonderful thoughts embedded in it. I headed straight to McDonald's McCafe, the perfect place to traverse in the passages on each leaf, while awaiting a friend I was supposed to meet. I walked directly to the counter to place my order.

Ten minutes passed and it finally arrived. I was puzzled when I noticed the absence of caramel syrup on the whipped cream. I asked the crew about it, only to be told I ordered a latte. Be it Starbucks or McCafe, I rarely experimented. I have always been fidel to my caramel. Imagine my dismay.

In the midst of my dilemma, the manager intruded. He suggested replacing the cup. I hesitated. He repeated the offer, and I persistently convinced him otherwise as I did not want to witness an innocent latte being drained its existence away. I convinced myself to take on a new challenge and just sip the darn drink. The manager apologized, looked at me, and uttered the most magical statement my ears had ever heard in the whole afternoon. "Do you want your caramel syrup on the whipped cream?", he said. My eyes twinkled.

Compromise is a sturdy bridge. It helps people admit without losing face and injuring a relationship. I missed my caramel, I welcomed my caramel-flavored latte. I happily embraced its uniqueness. I imbibed my drink, embarked on my journey in my new book, my mind was clouded with a special feeling for having to consume such a favorable blunder. Mistakes are miracles in disguise. Even the greatest men committed mistakes that gave birth to serendipity. Like my latte was. :)

Thank God It's Good Friday!

TGIGF. Thank God It's Good Friday. Friday's good!

Friday is not only the season-ender for the long, draggy, boring week. It is not only tantamount to sparkling laughters partnered with intelligent talks and silly conversations hovering the mellow-surrounded place, nor to drink-till-you-drop party you barely can remember the next day. It is not only the reason for the hangover. Friday is valentine's day.

Friday. The persecution day for the Son of Man. Blood was shed, bones were nailed, love was demonstrated. Spatter of the red pigment was scattered everywhere, and everyone tainted by it had been imbued by the divine love. That makes Friday good.

In the modern calendar, Valentine's day falls on the 14th of February in an annual cycle. In the Chinese counterpart, this event transpires every seventh day of the seventh lunar month. I say in Jesus', it falls every Good Friday.

Friday is not only the season finale for the prolonged mundaneness; it is the denouement of God's love. In His attempt to gather all His children, God decided to mortalize His only Son for the salvation of the wicked. The Son of Man 'breathed His last' so the lost sheep can respire in the truth. His sacrificial end is our beautiful beginning. The object of our infatuation might have missed Valentine's arrow, but not a soul has missed the pointer aimed by God. The shaft misses the apple of the first sin, flies past the enemy's treacherous traits, hits us bull's eye. It revolutionized Valentine's.

Happy Valentine's Day. :)

Twilight

He is the man of your dreams. Towering at six feet, high society confidence exuding from every tiniest pore in his porcelain skin, the crowd could not help stealing numerous glances as he strides. He permeates a sweet smelling scent, covering the blood sucking putrid that percolates through his very existence. But do not attempt to fall for him if you do not want to be the next budget meal. He does get tired from fast-food chains from time to time. Vampires have a delicate taste.

Edward Cullen has transformed into a household name after the release of the book, Twilight. The novel has later met its cinematic counterpart. The popular book by Stephenie Meyer reintroduced and resuscitated the vampires as they live in the modern days. They are still the blood sucking family of leeches that we know; this truth will linger on. But the author has added a little flavor, a once in a lifetime, rare phenomenon: Edward fell in love with a human being.

Countless stories have been inspired by these creatures based on European folklores, among which is a novel written by Anne Rice, The Vampire Chronicles. Lestat de Lioncourt is the main character, the metro sexual type in the dark world. Edward’s passion is to win Bella, Lestat’s is the human race. His mortality is lived morally, as least he tries to be. He loves mankind. He cares for his father despite the friction between them. He is depicted as a hero, feeding on crooks and the evils of society. It may have been translated differently, but Edward and Lestat have one commonality: love. And the color of love is red. It is the very thing that keeps them alive.

Despite their softer side, however, vampires are considered taboo. Edward is a lover, the only identity known by public. Despite his charm and personality, if he dropped the bomb, everyone he knows within a six-mile radius will disappear out of fear. So he conceals the truth. He walks and lives like a normal teenager, without them realizing he is actually 110 years old, glitters under the sun, and bites. Literally.

The movie is still an unfinished business though the book is. In spite of the dragging acting by Kristen Stewart (Bella), Twilight remains in the top ten for top-grossing films of 2010. The movie Eclipse raked more than USD600M worldwide according to Wikipedia, exalting Edward as the most sought after vampire of our time.  The final installment, Breaking Dawn (Part 1), will be in cinemas this year, expecting to gather millions of dollars on its first day. This vampire business is a filthy one. A filthy rich business. Like the vampires themselves are.

Vampires are normally stationed in high-ranking positions, rubbing elbows with the elite and the royalties. Dracula was a count. They infiltrate human societies where they are safest. It is a common conception that villains lurk within us where they are most unnoticeable. The same tactic is applied by the wittiest of creatures. The mystery of vampires will remain as such, while authors with vivid imagination will continue to thrive on everyone’s curiosity. The films will roll, the novels will be published, Edward will love, and his clan will remain. Whilst the blood runs in our veins.