Liberals of the world must have rejoice and I would like to join in the cheers!
The American people have elected a Democratic leader this time. To top it all, it had nonetheless pick one as African American as Barack Obama can be, and we'll that's a first for America.
Again the United States have speak up and once again shouted to the world that it is indeed the land of equal opportunities. Electing to the Oval office a once member of the American minority is indeed a great way of showing what the founding fathers of America has immortalized.
I have once been a follower of the American Democratic Party rhetorics and would say I like what I read then. Since leaving Innodata I&A, I had lost touch of my favorite topic to work then--American politics. I don't know much, but I hope all the good things I've read before regarding the policies embraced by the Democrats will hold true for Obama.
As in any one who went out to the world to prove a point, Obama is faced with more than what other White presidents before him have faced right now. Be it as it may, but I am positive that like others who came before him, he too can and will conquer the challenges that was set for him--and like the electoral process come out of it victorious.
Cheers for America. Cheers for equality. Cheers for the world.
GoldenSeeker
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Political Consciousness
Politics, the boon and bane of human civilization, have enticed me at quite an early age. Born during the last years of the Marcos Era, some seven to eight years or so of its reign, I have had some vague understanding but very strong impressions of how politics motivate people to do almost anything. At some point during those turbulent years leading to the February 1986 presidential elections and the EDSA Revolutions that followed a couple of weeks after, I always remember my father talking about how Marcos had hugely cheated Sergio Osmeña during the 1969 elections. The tale was that a lot of official ballots have been dumped by Marcos’ choppers into the ocean in order to have a clean sweep in the elections. Of course, Marcos was re-elected then and a huge majority of his allies sat with him in both the Senate and in Congress. I know this now, but not before.
Before, all I heard was my father’s tale and all I can think about was that Marcos was bad. I don’t know what’s in it to being a president then but in a child’s mind, nothing, and I mean really nothing was worth cheating for. That image of Marcos was heavily re-enforced when during the 1986 elections, I have seen and touched the crisp, 5 and 20 peso bills that’s being stapled together as a bribe to vote for the great man—Ferdinand Marcos. Thus, I have had my first real life, front seat view of vote buying. My father’s tale had since then become as real for me as the food we ate from that bribe. My parents never voted for Marcos that election. Even if it prove to be an exercise in futility since Marcos still managed to declare himself the victor for a couple of weeks until the power of the oppressed had ousted him from office. What about the money? Well, that was what might have been meant when someone biblical said “be cunning as a snake, but harmless as a dove.” Being practical enough to benefit from the bribe but harmless enough to have refused to vote for the briber. Again, of course I wouldn’t know this then, the rhetoric was coming to me a lot later.
For some time, as I go on with my life trying to be a child, an adolescent and a teenager, politics and the exercise of it (except during every classroom elections of officers) had taken a back seat. I had, however, could not totally removed myself from such issues as injustice, salvaging, poverty, rebellion, and other politically involved problems on the radio and in television.
I had grown up with these themes that I can honestly say that I am practically raised and my values molded by media. Fortunately, because early in life I am conscious enough that there are some things I just can’t take; I have been rather selective of the radio and television programs that I’ve watched. I have had with me a personal sense of censorship over the things that I’ve I wanted to see.
I am growing up with a lot of the idealism of youth, an idealism that I zealously guarded even as I become an adult—a feat made more difficult by the rise of overly and materially practical views of our time. Adulthood and idealism, somehow, do not mix in this “practical” society I am currently living.
At some point in my life when oppression and rebellion are the common themes in radio drama and movies, I had made a promise never to join in the armed rebels group regardless of how much I would come to hate the political system. The promise I made is to try to join in the system and work from the inside to see the change I would like to see or die trying. Armed rebellion is just not my thing.
I don’t like most of our politicians; yes. Our government system sucks; we’ll for the most part. It is hopeless to elect young idealist since eventually they will be corrupted and to succumb to the dirty tricks of the very system that they are trying to change originally at first; yeah this happens a lot of times. But all these, did not stop me from honestly voting for the candidate that I think would help establish some of the things I would like to see in this country. Personally, if you don’t exercise your right and obligation to vote honestly to the best of your God-endowed intelligence you have no and I mean absolutely no right to open your mouth to criticize those who are elected. Why should you!
As I mentioned earlier we have become a materially practical society that everything already have a price tags. And votes become a seasonal favorite like candles during All Saints Day. Today, all forms of vote buying abound. We’ll why not, politicians have a lot of money to give and we voters—mostly have nothing to eat. Sad to say, it’s just not those who are hungry that accepts this bribe at. Nowadays, everybody, except maybe for a very few, accepts politicians bribe money like it’s a welcome Christmas bonus. But like my parents; they said they are not voting for those candidates who paid them. Then whose votes were it then that we so painstakingly counted up to the wee hours after the Election Day, huh! When it seems that 99.9% of election candidates pay one way or another to get votes and voters claim to just accept the money without voting for those who paid them, it’s a wonder we still have candidates being elected with more than a hundred votes. Be cunning as a snake and harmless as a dove… the problem with this is that cunning tends to snake back and bite you where it hurt most. Taking a bribe slowly eats you inside. That part that takes care of the balance between what you believe is good and what is bad. When taking that vote-buying money starts to seem normal and clever to you, then I believe its time you take a long hard look at yourself and find that innocent little being that’s hiding inside you for fear of not fitting in to the rest of the crowd.
Before, all I heard was my father’s tale and all I can think about was that Marcos was bad. I don’t know what’s in it to being a president then but in a child’s mind, nothing, and I mean really nothing was worth cheating for. That image of Marcos was heavily re-enforced when during the 1986 elections, I have seen and touched the crisp, 5 and 20 peso bills that’s being stapled together as a bribe to vote for the great man—Ferdinand Marcos. Thus, I have had my first real life, front seat view of vote buying. My father’s tale had since then become as real for me as the food we ate from that bribe. My parents never voted for Marcos that election. Even if it prove to be an exercise in futility since Marcos still managed to declare himself the victor for a couple of weeks until the power of the oppressed had ousted him from office. What about the money? Well, that was what might have been meant when someone biblical said “be cunning as a snake, but harmless as a dove.” Being practical enough to benefit from the bribe but harmless enough to have refused to vote for the briber. Again, of course I wouldn’t know this then, the rhetoric was coming to me a lot later.
For some time, as I go on with my life trying to be a child, an adolescent and a teenager, politics and the exercise of it (except during every classroom elections of officers) had taken a back seat. I had, however, could not totally removed myself from such issues as injustice, salvaging, poverty, rebellion, and other politically involved problems on the radio and in television.
I had grown up with these themes that I can honestly say that I am practically raised and my values molded by media. Fortunately, because early in life I am conscious enough that there are some things I just can’t take; I have been rather selective of the radio and television programs that I’ve watched. I have had with me a personal sense of censorship over the things that I’ve I wanted to see.
I am growing up with a lot of the idealism of youth, an idealism that I zealously guarded even as I become an adult—a feat made more difficult by the rise of overly and materially practical views of our time. Adulthood and idealism, somehow, do not mix in this “practical” society I am currently living.
At some point in my life when oppression and rebellion are the common themes in radio drama and movies, I had made a promise never to join in the armed rebels group regardless of how much I would come to hate the political system. The promise I made is to try to join in the system and work from the inside to see the change I would like to see or die trying. Armed rebellion is just not my thing.
I don’t like most of our politicians; yes. Our government system sucks; we’ll for the most part. It is hopeless to elect young idealist since eventually they will be corrupted and to succumb to the dirty tricks of the very system that they are trying to change originally at first; yeah this happens a lot of times. But all these, did not stop me from honestly voting for the candidate that I think would help establish some of the things I would like to see in this country. Personally, if you don’t exercise your right and obligation to vote honestly to the best of your God-endowed intelligence you have no and I mean absolutely no right to open your mouth to criticize those who are elected. Why should you!
As I mentioned earlier we have become a materially practical society that everything already have a price tags. And votes become a seasonal favorite like candles during All Saints Day. Today, all forms of vote buying abound. We’ll why not, politicians have a lot of money to give and we voters—mostly have nothing to eat. Sad to say, it’s just not those who are hungry that accepts this bribe at. Nowadays, everybody, except maybe for a very few, accepts politicians bribe money like it’s a welcome Christmas bonus. But like my parents; they said they are not voting for those candidates who paid them. Then whose votes were it then that we so painstakingly counted up to the wee hours after the Election Day, huh! When it seems that 99.9% of election candidates pay one way or another to get votes and voters claim to just accept the money without voting for those who paid them, it’s a wonder we still have candidates being elected with more than a hundred votes. Be cunning as a snake and harmless as a dove… the problem with this is that cunning tends to snake back and bite you where it hurt most. Taking a bribe slowly eats you inside. That part that takes care of the balance between what you believe is good and what is bad. When taking that vote-buying money starts to seem normal and clever to you, then I believe its time you take a long hard look at yourself and find that innocent little being that’s hiding inside you for fear of not fitting in to the rest of the crowd.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
What?
What?
What is a word. One word that gives a lot of meaning.
Meaning?
What is meaning?
Meaning is another word.
Then what is the meaning of the word?
What is a word. One word that gives a lot of meaning.
Meaning?
What is meaning?
Meaning is another word.
Then what is the meaning of the word?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The Choice of Death--the Princess of the Stars Tragedy
Even before my poll on this topic come to a close... allow me to share with you my thoughts.
As it is with all grand scale tragedies, pointing a blaming finger is always the norm and the Frank disaster and the "Sulpicio fiasco," as some people would really like to say, is no different.
Since the news on the sinking of the ship, people are starting to find someone to blame for the tragedy. Obviously, Sulpicio is at the top of the guilty list. Most people, especially those in close proximity with the victims, either by blood relation or just a friend of a friend of a friend are inclined to blame Sulpicio. Sulpicio on the other hand and those who knows somebody in Sulpicio who are convinced or tried to convince themselves of the seaworthiness of the ship is predispose to find others to put the blame on--like the Coast Guard or PAG-ASA. Round and round the blame winds out people and entities until the most guilty coughs out and accepts their guilt.
Also as it is with any tragedy with lots of death involved, the blame is heaped on the weary shoulder of the survivors and those who came out of it with just a little scratch. We've seen it on television, people derisively telling crew survivors that they are only trying to save themselves.
We'll, if you're the sister, mother or a friend of a victim you rightfully feel the need to say those things out of the overwhelming grief of the moment. But then no one should really blame anyone for surviving. Being there and enduring it while seeing all those flesh and blood cry out is a burden heavy enough to bear for a lifetime, adding guilt on it is really too much.
A lot of people may blame Sulpicio for the tragedy and these people have equally sound arguments to support their opinion; arguments though does not make a case. Facts alone would clear the conscience of all those involved in the tragedy. However, my intention here is not to convict or exonerate those responsible.
As it is with all grand scale tragedies, pointing a blaming finger is always the norm and the Frank disaster and the "Sulpicio fiasco," as some people would really like to say, is no different.
Since the news on the sinking of the ship, people are starting to find someone to blame for the tragedy. Obviously, Sulpicio is at the top of the guilty list. Most people, especially those in close proximity with the victims, either by blood relation or just a friend of a friend of a friend are inclined to blame Sulpicio. Sulpicio on the other hand and those who knows somebody in Sulpicio who are convinced or tried to convince themselves of the seaworthiness of the ship is predispose to find others to put the blame on--like the Coast Guard or PAG-ASA. Round and round the blame winds out people and entities until the most guilty coughs out and accepts their guilt.
Also as it is with any tragedy with lots of death involved, the blame is heaped on the weary shoulder of the survivors and those who came out of it with just a little scratch. We've seen it on television, people derisively telling crew survivors that they are only trying to save themselves.
We'll, if you're the sister, mother or a friend of a victim you rightfully feel the need to say those things out of the overwhelming grief of the moment. But then no one should really blame anyone for surviving. Being there and enduring it while seeing all those flesh and blood cry out is a burden heavy enough to bear for a lifetime, adding guilt on it is really too much.
A lot of people may blame Sulpicio for the tragedy and these people have equally sound arguments to support their opinion; arguments though does not make a case. Facts alone would clear the conscience of all those involved in the tragedy. However, my intention here is not to convict or exonerate those responsible.
What I want is to somehow discuss the death of those passengers and all others who died during the typhoon. For many people, these deaths are the cause of anger towards Sulpicio, PAG-ASA, Coast Guard etc.. To their minds I guess, is the belief that these people should not have died without that tragedy; and the cause is... whatever mistakes that according to them was perpetrated by those in the guilty list.
We'll whatever their reason, as somebody I recently know would often say... "but that's to their own according." And so now, here's death "to my own according."
I have always believe that death is something that would come, regardless and no matter, when its time. The moment you die is the moment you choose to leave this lifetime. Life is a choice... death too is.
The death of someone, regardless of the manner, is with that person's full consent. You can never blame death on anyone. The manner of death, maybe but as to the moment of death, no. It is something that the individual unconciously decided on his/her own.
The freedom afforded to us to take control of our life is absolute and so as with determining our lifetimes.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
For the Love of That Someone Called Me
Growing up poor and ugly and still come out of it having a healthy regard for oneself is no mean feat.
I never was and would never be a beauty, except maybe in the eyes of my father (bless his soul) who was forever be blinded by his fatherly and unconditional love.
I could still remember during those elementary years when some classmates would talk about me unpleasantly because of my looks and the tattered uniform I wore. Being poor, my parents cannot afford to buy me new uniform and so I wore my older sister's school uniform to school which had been so old that it already had patches to it.
Adding to the clothes is my own looks. I was so skinny then, and my color is that unhealthy pallor of sun dried brown due to the constant sun exposure when we play and gather stones for a fee for building concrete houses.
I was however blessed with a good head that my classmates would not really ridicule me openly for fear of not being able to copy my answer to examinations.
Hahaha... even that early I know there is justice in the world.
Anyway, as I have said I have a good head and a good head sometimes makes you more aware than you like of what's going on and what has been talked about behind your back. Needless to say, I know what they were talking about me and that had made me really insecure with my looks.
I can still remember one day during my third grade when I was looking at my arm and tried to stretch it while thinking that maybe if I became fat I would be a lot lighter to look at than my overly-burned skin. And so, there a pervent wish to become fat started.
Fattening myself was slow in coming. Lacking significantly in nutritious food, I never really put on the desired weight until I was in high school. However, during those times when I was still skinny I turned on all my attention to taking to heart seriously the wisdom that what is beauty after all if only skin deep. So, I nourish my mind for it does not cost me a single cent to do so. Books are always there for me to read. And I steer clear of people--a lot of people. Those people who wouldn't have understood my preoccupation and would only ridicule me. Also I had become the champion of the underdogs. You can't blame me for becoming heroic when all I can read in books then are accounts of good behavior and heroism over and over.
Then high school came and I started gaining weight and become fat. But, alas! Becoming fat had not really improve my looks. Tsk, tsk, tsk, looking back I can only shake my head and smile at my naivete and stupidity. Worse, during that time and even during college I couldn't even care less about how I look. I am only too happy to be holding myself in any school discussion etc., to mind about my looks. Also more and more people come to me for all kinds of problems and advise. They may not like my looks but no one can never discount my words, for always I had the penchant for sagacious punchline. Also, I wouldn't have been able to afford better clothes just to improve my looks back then, so taking seriously that thought of senseless beauty as unimportant works well for me.
But then after awhile I have come to see glimpses of that person that my father saw. But only glimpses. Until one day when a guy co-worker got really entangled into the drama of his life and sucked me into it. Being the good listener that I am and despite the few malicious people surrounding me during those childhood days back... I still believe in the goodness of people. And so this guy friend shared his soul with me holding nothing back. Basking in the pleasure of feeling needed and being able to help, I had found myself slowly growing in affection for the man. Luckily, there was no reciprocal feeling and although the feeling grows I am still at the top of my emotions then for I know every reason and circumstance that bring on such emotions. Reflecting on that I told him something to this effect "now I already know why I had been given me a kindly face, an empathetic heart and a healthy body with a good shoulders for which to place my head. I believe this is because with these people coming to me for comfort I really need a sturdy shoulders for them to cry on, a heart that feels their pain so I would understand them better, a good head to have the heart in check and a body that would not entice men."
I believe he had laughed at me then. hehehe. But I was so sure of it for most of the people who come to me are men and if I do possess a face and a body worthy to become an FHM cover then I would be warding off sexual advances more than giving comfort and helping them help themselves.
Honestly, I do feel hurt when people maliciously call me fat. But then on hindsight, being fat is what I wish for and I would not regret it. My body speaks of my character. The things I have done in order for me to live a life that I wanted claim to have been lived my way... all the way. The extra fatty upper torso is partly due to those backbreaking sacks of stones I carried starting when I was still six years old. A labor I was proud of for it brought me my first uniform in school.
I couldn't help it when most people can't get past the skin. It's their basic prerogative. As long as I know and accept who and what I am... other people's opinion does not matter. I love myself and this fat body is intrinsically a part of me.
But then on second thought... I would love seeing the looks of those who mock my fats when I'll be given the chance to become as sexy as Angel Locsin. Hahaha... here I am again having another wish. I just hope wishing at 30 is also as potent as my wish at third grade.
I never was and would never be a beauty, except maybe in the eyes of my father (bless his soul) who was forever be blinded by his fatherly and unconditional love.
I could still remember during those elementary years when some classmates would talk about me unpleasantly because of my looks and the tattered uniform I wore. Being poor, my parents cannot afford to buy me new uniform and so I wore my older sister's school uniform to school which had been so old that it already had patches to it.
Adding to the clothes is my own looks. I was so skinny then, and my color is that unhealthy pallor of sun dried brown due to the constant sun exposure when we play and gather stones for a fee for building concrete houses.
I was however blessed with a good head that my classmates would not really ridicule me openly for fear of not being able to copy my answer to examinations.
Hahaha... even that early I know there is justice in the world.
Anyway, as I have said I have a good head and a good head sometimes makes you more aware than you like of what's going on and what has been talked about behind your back. Needless to say, I know what they were talking about me and that had made me really insecure with my looks.
I can still remember one day during my third grade when I was looking at my arm and tried to stretch it while thinking that maybe if I became fat I would be a lot lighter to look at than my overly-burned skin. And so, there a pervent wish to become fat started.
Fattening myself was slow in coming. Lacking significantly in nutritious food, I never really put on the desired weight until I was in high school. However, during those times when I was still skinny I turned on all my attention to taking to heart seriously the wisdom that what is beauty after all if only skin deep. So, I nourish my mind for it does not cost me a single cent to do so. Books are always there for me to read. And I steer clear of people--a lot of people. Those people who wouldn't have understood my preoccupation and would only ridicule me. Also I had become the champion of the underdogs. You can't blame me for becoming heroic when all I can read in books then are accounts of good behavior and heroism over and over.
Then high school came and I started gaining weight and become fat. But, alas! Becoming fat had not really improve my looks. Tsk, tsk, tsk, looking back I can only shake my head and smile at my naivete and stupidity. Worse, during that time and even during college I couldn't even care less about how I look. I am only too happy to be holding myself in any school discussion etc., to mind about my looks. Also more and more people come to me for all kinds of problems and advise. They may not like my looks but no one can never discount my words, for always I had the penchant for sagacious punchline. Also, I wouldn't have been able to afford better clothes just to improve my looks back then, so taking seriously that thought of senseless beauty as unimportant works well for me.
But then after awhile I have come to see glimpses of that person that my father saw. But only glimpses. Until one day when a guy co-worker got really entangled into the drama of his life and sucked me into it. Being the good listener that I am and despite the few malicious people surrounding me during those childhood days back... I still believe in the goodness of people. And so this guy friend shared his soul with me holding nothing back. Basking in the pleasure of feeling needed and being able to help, I had found myself slowly growing in affection for the man. Luckily, there was no reciprocal feeling and although the feeling grows I am still at the top of my emotions then for I know every reason and circumstance that bring on such emotions. Reflecting on that I told him something to this effect "now I already know why I had been given me a kindly face, an empathetic heart and a healthy body with a good shoulders for which to place my head. I believe this is because with these people coming to me for comfort I really need a sturdy shoulders for them to cry on, a heart that feels their pain so I would understand them better, a good head to have the heart in check and a body that would not entice men."
I believe he had laughed at me then. hehehe. But I was so sure of it for most of the people who come to me are men and if I do possess a face and a body worthy to become an FHM cover then I would be warding off sexual advances more than giving comfort and helping them help themselves.
Honestly, I do feel hurt when people maliciously call me fat. But then on hindsight, being fat is what I wish for and I would not regret it. My body speaks of my character. The things I have done in order for me to live a life that I wanted claim to have been lived my way... all the way. The extra fatty upper torso is partly due to those backbreaking sacks of stones I carried starting when I was still six years old. A labor I was proud of for it brought me my first uniform in school.
I couldn't help it when most people can't get past the skin. It's their basic prerogative. As long as I know and accept who and what I am... other people's opinion does not matter. I love myself and this fat body is intrinsically a part of me.
But then on second thought... I would love seeing the looks of those who mock my fats when I'll be given the chance to become as sexy as Angel Locsin. Hahaha... here I am again having another wish. I just hope wishing at 30 is also as potent as my wish at third grade.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
On Morality and Choices
I have read a blog of an esteemed friend regarding the morality of our choices. In gist, he talks about our choice being somewhat fraudulent and the morality questionable if it does not emananate from our ultimate passions. That the choice of doing good is not in itself moral if there lies within you the desire to do otherwise.
Reading the blog, I have hastily commented amen for to my mind then there is one choice--where one person is concern--that I have been able to chose not to do something I don't really like doing just because I don't like it, no matter how that person tries to twist everything in his mind. No one can really attribute motivations to one person especially if the thought of motive is not supported by observable behavior. The decision was not made out of mere moral convention, it was decided against because I am not for it--period.
So in here, now I will try to compose my thoughts and dig deeper into what I really think about some of his propositions.
In the blog, he claims "The morality of a choice primarily lies not in that which is chosen.--Why what does it entail to live a moral life? Isn't it right for me to choose not to kill someone out of revenge even if my desire to do so oftentimes overwhelm me just because I am afraid of committing what we conventionally call a mortal sin of murder?. For one may choose something he/she perceives as good, but if he/she chooses on the basis of conventions and not out of his/her ultimate passions, of his/her own subjective certainty; if he/she surrenders his/her autonomy in this entire act of choosing, then there is no authentic choice." --Meaning, if I choose to do good, quelling my humanly desire to do otherwise, then I am living a life of self-deception and moral hypocrisy? Isn't it the moral aim of our being to rise above our baser needs and instincts?
"Authentic morality therefore lies in the very act of choosing, something that emanates from one's subjective certainty and ultimate passion, and not in the things chosen, and certainly not in any law that determines the goodness or ungoodness of an act."
Well, I beg to disagree. Morality first and foremost is measured in what is chosen and not on the circumstances of the choice. If I choose not to steal food despite hunger, do I make myself morally hypocrite? Am I not being "authentically moral" just because I am denying myself with what I most desire just because I am afraid of getting caught stealing?
If we will talk about the authenticity of a choice alone, then yes. Somehow, to some extent you are denying yourself of something that you so wanted. But the authenticity of your choice does not necessarily translate morality. Morality always is choosing good over bad or evil regardless of motivations. We will be measured not so much on intentions but on our deeds--the ultimate expression of our choice.
Fact is:
> No one will convict you just for the mere fact that for a moment you think of stealing food but do not actually do so.
>We as beings are given the faculty of mind to think and consider things on top of our more instinctual drives. Unlike the lower forms of animals that is driven only by instincts of survival, procreation, and pleasure, we have a mind that can process and consider all our choices.
>We as beings are given the power of will to choose between what we want and what is morally acceptable. A cornered animal will have no other behavioral action except to fight back regardless of the possibility of hurting fellow animals. Beings like us have the freedom to choose self-sacrifice in order to save others.
>Authentic is only an adverb use to qualify Morality but does not change the basic requisites of the definition of the word.
Authentic morality therefore, is choosing to do good despite being tempted to be bad. It is saying no to yourself when you know that what you want may not really make you a better person. It doesn't matter if the choice is made out of fear of what other people may think. It doesn't matter if the choice is made because you are afraid to get caught. What really matters is... YOU DO NOT DO IT.
"We are not our feelings. We are not our moods. We are not even our thoughts." (-quoted from Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey)
WE ARE WHAT WE CHOOSE TO BE.
Reading the blog, I have hastily commented amen for to my mind then there is one choice--where one person is concern--that I have been able to chose not to do something I don't really like doing just because I don't like it, no matter how that person tries to twist everything in his mind. No one can really attribute motivations to one person especially if the thought of motive is not supported by observable behavior. The decision was not made out of mere moral convention, it was decided against because I am not for it--period.
So in here, now I will try to compose my thoughts and dig deeper into what I really think about some of his propositions.
In the blog, he claims "The morality of a choice primarily lies not in that which is chosen.--Why what does it entail to live a moral life? Isn't it right for me to choose not to kill someone out of revenge even if my desire to do so oftentimes overwhelm me just because I am afraid of committing what we conventionally call a mortal sin of murder?. For one may choose something he/she perceives as good, but if he/she chooses on the basis of conventions and not out of his/her ultimate passions, of his/her own subjective certainty; if he/she surrenders his/her autonomy in this entire act of choosing, then there is no authentic choice." --Meaning, if I choose to do good, quelling my humanly desire to do otherwise, then I am living a life of self-deception and moral hypocrisy? Isn't it the moral aim of our being to rise above our baser needs and instincts?
"Authentic morality therefore lies in the very act of choosing, something that emanates from one's subjective certainty and ultimate passion, and not in the things chosen, and certainly not in any law that determines the goodness or ungoodness of an act."
Well, I beg to disagree. Morality first and foremost is measured in what is chosen and not on the circumstances of the choice. If I choose not to steal food despite hunger, do I make myself morally hypocrite? Am I not being "authentically moral" just because I am denying myself with what I most desire just because I am afraid of getting caught stealing?
If we will talk about the authenticity of a choice alone, then yes. Somehow, to some extent you are denying yourself of something that you so wanted. But the authenticity of your choice does not necessarily translate morality. Morality always is choosing good over bad or evil regardless of motivations. We will be measured not so much on intentions but on our deeds--the ultimate expression of our choice.
Fact is:
> No one will convict you just for the mere fact that for a moment you think of stealing food but do not actually do so.
>We as beings are given the faculty of mind to think and consider things on top of our more instinctual drives. Unlike the lower forms of animals that is driven only by instincts of survival, procreation, and pleasure, we have a mind that can process and consider all our choices.
>We as beings are given the power of will to choose between what we want and what is morally acceptable. A cornered animal will have no other behavioral action except to fight back regardless of the possibility of hurting fellow animals. Beings like us have the freedom to choose self-sacrifice in order to save others.
>Authentic is only an adverb use to qualify Morality but does not change the basic requisites of the definition of the word.
Authentic morality therefore, is choosing to do good despite being tempted to be bad. It is saying no to yourself when you know that what you want may not really make you a better person. It doesn't matter if the choice is made out of fear of what other people may think. It doesn't matter if the choice is made because you are afraid to get caught. What really matters is... YOU DO NOT DO IT.
"We are not our feelings. We are not our moods. We are not even our thoughts." (-quoted from Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey)
WE ARE WHAT WE CHOOSE TO BE.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Boredom: the Segue
Life really delivers... That's what i've mentioned previously in boredom. Two months after feeling really bored almost to death, i am now faced with work that again keeps me busy even during sleep.
I am back to my working mode and again my middle name becomes Busy, Busy, Busy. But hey, who's complaining (we'll honestly i do sometimes hehehe). But then again, B is my most favorite middle initial.
My being busy now is good, better, and best. I believe I have really landed my true calling this time--training and organizational development. I like it coz they make me not only physically busy but also mentally and emotionally.
I have come to an organization where the leadership is geared towards developing people. An organization with a visionary leader who does not shrink from the hurdles and challenges of corporate becoming. A leader who aims, targets, and expect to hit the bullseye!
Most important of all, a leader who brings the challenges to its people, fitting them up for battle, and then confidently expecting them to win with him.
We'll, those who know me would sagely say that it's still too early to tell if i would stay. I agree, and knowing me as i know me, i believe it is always prudent not to count the years already before im actually spending it with this same organization.
Fine. But this early I can already say-- this is the best learning field for me and because of that the wisest thing for me to do is square my shoulders, exercise my heart muscles and forget for the time being that oftentimes it's best to distance yourself from some negativities.
As it is, that boredom episode have me really energized. Now I know I have more stamina and more energized for this new adventure I called--wood works.
I am back to my working mode and again my middle name becomes Busy, Busy, Busy. But hey, who's complaining (we'll honestly i do sometimes hehehe). But then again, B is my most favorite middle initial.
My being busy now is good, better, and best. I believe I have really landed my true calling this time--training and organizational development. I like it coz they make me not only physically busy but also mentally and emotionally.
I have come to an organization where the leadership is geared towards developing people. An organization with a visionary leader who does not shrink from the hurdles and challenges of corporate becoming. A leader who aims, targets, and expect to hit the bullseye!
Most important of all, a leader who brings the challenges to its people, fitting them up for battle, and then confidently expecting them to win with him.
We'll, those who know me would sagely say that it's still too early to tell if i would stay. I agree, and knowing me as i know me, i believe it is always prudent not to count the years already before im actually spending it with this same organization.
Fine. But this early I can already say-- this is the best learning field for me and because of that the wisest thing for me to do is square my shoulders, exercise my heart muscles and forget for the time being that oftentimes it's best to distance yourself from some negativities.
As it is, that boredom episode have me really energized. Now I know I have more stamina and more energized for this new adventure I called--wood works.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Loving and Trusting People
A few days ago, i saw another classic example that will inspire me to keep on looking for the good in every person i met. Yes, someone sent me a powerpoint presentation of how the earthquake in China have devastated a lot of properties amounting to billions in infrastructure and material equipments.
The dead and wounded abound and caused a lot of grief. But that terrible disaster, as huge as its damages, did not manage to devastate the goodness of the Chinese people. While reading and seeing through the pictures my tears begun to drop so that i chose not finish the whole presentation for fear of having my new officemates see me cry. However, I did see enough to say that people can always choose to be good despite and maybe because of disaster.
A lot of things where scattered around the affected areas, and yet, as reported, there were no incidents of looting. The Chinese people chose to be kind and helpful during the times when they themselves need help. Volunteers run to the affected areas and blood donations flooded without much prodding.
Stories of this sort strengthened my resolve to view all people as innately good. Thus considering them trustworthy first and foremost--unless to they will prove to be otherwise--is still the best i can do.
Yeah, evil abound in the world, and i will get hurt and wounded most often than not... but i'd rather get hurt knowing that in my dealings with people i have come to them with a pure heart... no preconceived notions and biases... and no hidden agendas.
This way i am sure that everyone started on equal footing, regardless of appearances. If somebody chooses to hurt me whether maliciously or out of circumstance, then so be it. After all, i always believe that justice will be served... in whichever way that we most need to learn.
Cliche as it sound but i'd rather err on the side of compassion and enjoy the company of people than keep myself safe inside the walls of mistrust that will shield me from experiencing deeply the goodness of others.
With me, people always start on the notion that they are dignified and trustworthy beings. In my book love should always be free flowing, like the coffee and water that we included in the menu package for our training next week.
The dead and wounded abound and caused a lot of grief. But that terrible disaster, as huge as its damages, did not manage to devastate the goodness of the Chinese people. While reading and seeing through the pictures my tears begun to drop so that i chose not finish the whole presentation for fear of having my new officemates see me cry. However, I did see enough to say that people can always choose to be good despite and maybe because of disaster.
A lot of things where scattered around the affected areas, and yet, as reported, there were no incidents of looting. The Chinese people chose to be kind and helpful during the times when they themselves need help. Volunteers run to the affected areas and blood donations flooded without much prodding.
Stories of this sort strengthened my resolve to view all people as innately good. Thus considering them trustworthy first and foremost--unless to they will prove to be otherwise--is still the best i can do.
Yeah, evil abound in the world, and i will get hurt and wounded most often than not... but i'd rather get hurt knowing that in my dealings with people i have come to them with a pure heart... no preconceived notions and biases... and no hidden agendas.
This way i am sure that everyone started on equal footing, regardless of appearances. If somebody chooses to hurt me whether maliciously or out of circumstance, then so be it. After all, i always believe that justice will be served... in whichever way that we most need to learn.
Cliche as it sound but i'd rather err on the side of compassion and enjoy the company of people than keep myself safe inside the walls of mistrust that will shield me from experiencing deeply the goodness of others.
With me, people always start on the notion that they are dignified and trustworthy beings. In my book love should always be free flowing, like the coffee and water that we included in the menu package for our training next week.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Friendster!
Kalain nimo oy.
Imong gdelete ang akong friendster.
Wala man kay clear.
Wala man unta ko nakasala.
Pero nganong ikaw ingon ana.
Ay ambot, mavuang ko bayot!
Imong gdelete ang akong friendster.
Wala man kay clear.
Wala man unta ko nakasala.
Pero nganong ikaw ingon ana.
Ay ambot, mavuang ko bayot!
Pray--er
I never am a religious type of person. I don't go to church regularly. I pray yes, usually everyday. But praying with other people, that's something i really am not good at. I
I can still remember when i was still a child... around 8 or 9 years old. I used to pray before going to bed. I pray in front of our altar, kneeling down. One time, i went home late after watching a variety show during one of our fiesta-related nightly entertainment. So after closing the door, i readily do my usual prayer ritual in front of the altar. I kneel down and utter a silent prayer. Halfway through my prayers, i heard my sister say laughingly, "hey what are you doing there?" I don't understand, but right that moment i felt my hair stand and my blood rushed to my face because of embarrasment. Because the lampara then only gives a very dim light, i failed to see my sister who is sleeping right below the altar. Ever since that night, i never am really comfortable making the sign of the cross in public.
That incident was further reenforced, not so long after that incident, when i came across a Bible passage talking about praying in the silence of one's own room and shying away from being like those hypocrites who prays inside synagogues so that others may appreciate what they do.
Since then i always prefer to have my prayers at the privacy of my thoughts. It even went to the extreme of me feeling ashamed if somebody sees me make the sign of the cross inside the church. Quite sick right? We'll I really can't help if the hairs on my nape and arms would stand everytime i felt someone looking at me while i made the sign of the cross. I always reacted that way, until one time i have consciously return to that one night incident via a simple chitchat with a teacher friend.
Slowly, after that chat i again started to feel normally when doing my sign of the cross in public. However, even after the conscious realization of the cause of that not so normal reaction, i always shied away from leading a prayer. No one really can forced me to lead even a simple prayer of thanksgiving before eating. Even in the classroom, i can always find reason not to lead the prayer before the class started. I do pray, but never aloud.
But things happen. Without us even realizing it, the right time and moment will come and you are forced to face your fears. I never thought the day would come that i would lead a prayer with other people in attendance. And what a time it is. My first prayer was made with a corporate CEO.
We'll, God really knows how to give you a nice moment. Making sure that your first try--after a long time--of uttering His name in public will surely be well attended.
I can still remember when i was still a child... around 8 or 9 years old. I used to pray before going to bed. I pray in front of our altar, kneeling down. One time, i went home late after watching a variety show during one of our fiesta-related nightly entertainment. So after closing the door, i readily do my usual prayer ritual in front of the altar. I kneel down and utter a silent prayer. Halfway through my prayers, i heard my sister say laughingly, "hey what are you doing there?" I don't understand, but right that moment i felt my hair stand and my blood rushed to my face because of embarrasment. Because the lampara then only gives a very dim light, i failed to see my sister who is sleeping right below the altar. Ever since that night, i never am really comfortable making the sign of the cross in public.
That incident was further reenforced, not so long after that incident, when i came across a Bible passage talking about praying in the silence of one's own room and shying away from being like those hypocrites who prays inside synagogues so that others may appreciate what they do.
Since then i always prefer to have my prayers at the privacy of my thoughts. It even went to the extreme of me feeling ashamed if somebody sees me make the sign of the cross inside the church. Quite sick right? We'll I really can't help if the hairs on my nape and arms would stand everytime i felt someone looking at me while i made the sign of the cross. I always reacted that way, until one time i have consciously return to that one night incident via a simple chitchat with a teacher friend.
Slowly, after that chat i again started to feel normally when doing my sign of the cross in public. However, even after the conscious realization of the cause of that not so normal reaction, i always shied away from leading a prayer. No one really can forced me to lead even a simple prayer of thanksgiving before eating. Even in the classroom, i can always find reason not to lead the prayer before the class started. I do pray, but never aloud.
But things happen. Without us even realizing it, the right time and moment will come and you are forced to face your fears. I never thought the day would come that i would lead a prayer with other people in attendance. And what a time it is. My first prayer was made with a corporate CEO.
We'll, God really knows how to give you a nice moment. Making sure that your first try--after a long time--of uttering His name in public will surely be well attended.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Ahhhhh People.
Right now i dont know what to think.
A lot of things are running into my head and my chest felt like bursting, like somethings been inside it that just needed to be aired out. The problem is my thoughts are in jumble.
Once a teacher had said to me that "people are just people, behaving in a manner they are made to behave." But who and what made us behave like we do? Isn't it us that have the exlusive responsibility of our actions? So why blame it on someone or something?
And why do people behave the way they do?
I always believe in the goodness of every human being. As a rule, people are good unless they've proven otherwise. I also remembered a friend cautions me into readily trusting people. For him, people are bad and cannot be trusted unless they have proven to him their trustworthiness.
A huge contradiction, eh?
But that's how people are. Some are so trusting that they are usually being just taken for a ride by the malicious few who just feels right into taking advantage of thier trusting nature. But this kind of people though frequently hurt, have a lot more chance at becoming happy with a lot of people than those who shelter themselves from others.
But who am i to be judge and jury of how other people conduct their life. If they choose to be weary of strangers and be safe then it's really up to them. Their happiness depends on doing what they think is right and what is comfortable for them and not on my over simplistic if a bit idealistic views.
In the same way, i will continue to believe that people are innately good. If some will not come as noble as i think, then i will be hurt, yes. But at least, i have let other people start with all the trust and respect that is due to every human being.
A lot of things are running into my head and my chest felt like bursting, like somethings been inside it that just needed to be aired out. The problem is my thoughts are in jumble.
Once a teacher had said to me that "people are just people, behaving in a manner they are made to behave." But who and what made us behave like we do? Isn't it us that have the exlusive responsibility of our actions? So why blame it on someone or something?
And why do people behave the way they do?
I always believe in the goodness of every human being. As a rule, people are good unless they've proven otherwise. I also remembered a friend cautions me into readily trusting people. For him, people are bad and cannot be trusted unless they have proven to him their trustworthiness.
A huge contradiction, eh?
But that's how people are. Some are so trusting that they are usually being just taken for a ride by the malicious few who just feels right into taking advantage of thier trusting nature. But this kind of people though frequently hurt, have a lot more chance at becoming happy with a lot of people than those who shelter themselves from others.
But who am i to be judge and jury of how other people conduct their life. If they choose to be weary of strangers and be safe then it's really up to them. Their happiness depends on doing what they think is right and what is comfortable for them and not on my over simplistic if a bit idealistic views.
In the same way, i will continue to believe that people are innately good. If some will not come as noble as i think, then i will be hurt, yes. But at least, i have let other people start with all the trust and respect that is due to every human being.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Music and My World
The world without music
Is one boring classic
That tells not a story
But a shadow of inactivity
The world without music
Is a soul left by the spirit
For music is the breath
That gives life on earth.
Poetry writing in Humanities Class
USJR
Is one boring classic
That tells not a story
But a shadow of inactivity
The world without music
Is a soul left by the spirit
For music is the breath
That gives life on earth.
Poetry writing in Humanities Class
USJR
Freedom
Freedom is not to do and say
What you always want to be
It is not a right you ought to exercise
But responsibility in disguise
For true freedom can be achieve only
When one has done his duty.
Who’s the most free?
Are those people…
Who thought they’re free
‘Coz they can do everything
The way they want it to be?
Who does things their way
With utmost disregard of human dignity
Just to satisfy their rights to be free?
Don’t think this is so…
Since freedom is meant only
To do things ‘cause its your responsibility
And never because you are free
And he is most free
Who can do anything
To the best of his ability
English Class Poetry Writing
Theme: FREEDOM
PNHS 94
What you always want to be
It is not a right you ought to exercise
But responsibility in disguise
For true freedom can be achieve only
When one has done his duty.
Who’s the most free?
Are those people…
Who thought they’re free
‘Coz they can do everything
The way they want it to be?
Who does things their way
With utmost disregard of human dignity
Just to satisfy their rights to be free?
Don’t think this is so…
Since freedom is meant only
To do things ‘cause its your responsibility
And never because you are free
And he is most free
Who can do anything
To the best of his ability
English Class Poetry Writing
Theme: FREEDOM
PNHS 94
Life's Crossroads
Looking back and reevaluating my life, I must say that I am most fortunate. I felt blessed and protected.
No. Not materially. I have always been poor on the material side of things. As early as six years old, I had already learned to value labor and its rewards.
I know. The money my mother used to buy my first school uniform when I was to enter grade 1 was taken from the savings I had out of gathering rocks for the construction of our rich neighbors’ houses.
Yeah, I fetched rocks for a fee, together with my brother and some cousins. But don’t get me wrong. My parents did not force us into child labor. They are very good. In fact the best as far as I’m concerned; for despite our financial struggles, they raised us well.
School was easy. I never needed to cheat to earn myself good grades. Back then I was more concerned with learning than with grades. Also I have learned during the second grade how unreliable grades are as an indicator of student intelligence and learning. I knew then because a lot of people in my class cheated during exams all the time.
I first decided to become a teacher when I was in grade 1. That was when my teacher hit me in the face with my flashcards for some unjustified reason. She hit me because I didn’t put the cards inside my envelope and said she didn’t want clutter on our desks. But since those cards where neatly tucked in under my envelope, I didn’t see why she needed to do what she had done to me. She could have told me first as a sort of warning. And I said so as much. Not to her, but to my father who became the sole audience of my righteous, if childish indignation.
With that I had made up my mind to become a teacher, and definitely a teacher not like her. For as long as I can remember, I have always had high regard for the teaching profession. But that experienced with my grade 1 teacher had also made me very critical of teachers behavior, competency, etc. I know now that sometimes I overreact. I have had a couple of teachers in the past both in high school and college who received my sweet, double-edged love letters. But sometimes, I just can’t help it. Someone should never tread on other people’s dream so callously and cold-heartedly without somehow expecting to get burned.
Well, much had happened since then. I have experienced both the joys and pains of living—though I’m sure not all of it yet—and struggled to find some meaning for my existence. I have felt intense emotions toward some things and react apathetically towards others.
Crisis? I don’t know what it is—apart from what economists say.
Yes, there were pains. Even heart-wrenching pain that seems like tearing your soul apart; the kind that somehow made you feel that no matter how hard you cried it doesn’t seem to go away. But of course it did.
There were also choices. But then they were just that.
Choices.
It never reached to some critical proportion. And although there were a lot of times when it seem to make a poor choice of things, I couldn’t find enough reason to regret it however.
Poor choice or not, I know everything that I have experienced were crucial and essential to my becoming. Even those I did not consciously choose.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Everything happens for a reason.
I know it. I read about it. I experienced it.
No. Not materially. I have always been poor on the material side of things. As early as six years old, I had already learned to value labor and its rewards.
I know. The money my mother used to buy my first school uniform when I was to enter grade 1 was taken from the savings I had out of gathering rocks for the construction of our rich neighbors’ houses.
Yeah, I fetched rocks for a fee, together with my brother and some cousins. But don’t get me wrong. My parents did not force us into child labor. They are very good. In fact the best as far as I’m concerned; for despite our financial struggles, they raised us well.
School was easy. I never needed to cheat to earn myself good grades. Back then I was more concerned with learning than with grades. Also I have learned during the second grade how unreliable grades are as an indicator of student intelligence and learning. I knew then because a lot of people in my class cheated during exams all the time.
I first decided to become a teacher when I was in grade 1. That was when my teacher hit me in the face with my flashcards for some unjustified reason. She hit me because I didn’t put the cards inside my envelope and said she didn’t want clutter on our desks. But since those cards where neatly tucked in under my envelope, I didn’t see why she needed to do what she had done to me. She could have told me first as a sort of warning. And I said so as much. Not to her, but to my father who became the sole audience of my righteous, if childish indignation.
With that I had made up my mind to become a teacher, and definitely a teacher not like her. For as long as I can remember, I have always had high regard for the teaching profession. But that experienced with my grade 1 teacher had also made me very critical of teachers behavior, competency, etc. I know now that sometimes I overreact. I have had a couple of teachers in the past both in high school and college who received my sweet, double-edged love letters. But sometimes, I just can’t help it. Someone should never tread on other people’s dream so callously and cold-heartedly without somehow expecting to get burned.
Well, much had happened since then. I have experienced both the joys and pains of living—though I’m sure not all of it yet—and struggled to find some meaning for my existence. I have felt intense emotions toward some things and react apathetically towards others.
Crisis? I don’t know what it is—apart from what economists say.
Yes, there were pains. Even heart-wrenching pain that seems like tearing your soul apart; the kind that somehow made you feel that no matter how hard you cried it doesn’t seem to go away. But of course it did.
There were also choices. But then they were just that.
Choices.
It never reached to some critical proportion. And although there were a lot of times when it seem to make a poor choice of things, I couldn’t find enough reason to regret it however.
Poor choice or not, I know everything that I have experienced were crucial and essential to my becoming. Even those I did not consciously choose.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Everything happens for a reason.
I know it. I read about it. I experienced it.
Boredom
Bored.
That's how my life is right now and maybe for at least a few more days... Hahay. Life really delivers. You ask for work, it gives you work like there's no tomorrow. As in work that goes in on your mind even while you're asleep. And when you scream "Stop, oh please, stop. I can't take it anymore." It handed you paid siesta. And when again you look for real work since you are used to working like the proverbial oxen.
Guess what life have given me?
A sore eyes. If that doesn't beat it all, I don't know what else.
So now we're back to my being bored.
Having a sore eyes really makes life really boring. I can't go out on job interviews, can't work on my vb lessons, can't have a movie marathon, and I can't even read my favorite mushy novels.
Oh life. But then i guess, this is life saying "Hey ma'am, just take a breather for a couple more weeks. Before you know it, you'll again be neck deep with work."
So now i guess, i just have to ride with my boredom and come out of it hopefully energized for another adventure.
That's how my life is right now and maybe for at least a few more days... Hahay. Life really delivers. You ask for work, it gives you work like there's no tomorrow. As in work that goes in on your mind even while you're asleep. And when you scream "Stop, oh please, stop. I can't take it anymore." It handed you paid siesta. And when again you look for real work since you are used to working like the proverbial oxen.
Guess what life have given me?
A sore eyes. If that doesn't beat it all, I don't know what else.
So now we're back to my being bored.
Having a sore eyes really makes life really boring. I can't go out on job interviews, can't work on my vb lessons, can't have a movie marathon, and I can't even read my favorite mushy novels.
Oh life. But then i guess, this is life saying "Hey ma'am, just take a breather for a couple more weeks. Before you know it, you'll again be neck deep with work."
So now i guess, i just have to ride with my boredom and come out of it hopefully energized for another adventure.
Unrestrained Thoughts
The compiled words below are part of my journal entries in my Educational Guidance subject.
--gold
Religion as a Form of Guidance: November 30, 2003
The declaration of Ramadan as a national holiday (2003) by Pres Gloria Macapagal Arroyo illustrates, in some respect how religion have become a form of guidance for the president. Although she herself is not a Muslim, her knowledge of the importance of this celebration to Muslim Filipinos is enough to make her declare a holiday—thus showing not only respect but also reverence by giving Muslims a chance to exercise their faith. As a president of a country that is somehow divided by religious orientations—with the Muslim playing as the disadvantage minority on the one hand and the Christians as the favored majority on the other hand, acknowledging the importance of the Muslim religious tradition is a brilliant move to reach out to them.
On a more cynical view, however, I must say that the move is more politically motivated, that is to gain the needed support of the Muslim community not for any religious harmony’s sake but for a longer political life.
Going back to the idea of religion as a form of guidance, I really do not see religion as such. Faith guides, religion indoctrinates and faith is not equal to religion. Through and through it is indoctrination and nothing else. Who, better than us Filipinos should have known this?
Religion was used by the Spanish conquistadores as a tool to exploit us and our resources. With it they incite fear and guilt in the ignorant minds of our forebears. They had used religion to manipulate us. They even incorporated our own pagan practices just to attract more followers. Back then we are Indios who didn’t know any better than to hear and follow what they say.
We are not allowed to think.
To reason for ourselves.
To grasp the truth of a Supreme Being as we experienced it.
They told us what to believe and forbid us to ask questions. For Indios like us questioning is heresy. We are treated as an Indio, acted like one and for many years after that, the collective psyche of the Filipinos remains that of an Indio. Everything that come from the West are better—even their very mistakes and social malaise look better compared to our feeble ones.
Taking anything foreign as better than our own is no mere colonial mentality. It is ingrained in our innermost being, our spiritual psyche. Our inferiority as a people does not stem from our race. It comes form our religion.
--gold
Religion as a Form of Guidance: November 30, 2003
The declaration of Ramadan as a national holiday (2003) by Pres Gloria Macapagal Arroyo illustrates, in some respect how religion have become a form of guidance for the president. Although she herself is not a Muslim, her knowledge of the importance of this celebration to Muslim Filipinos is enough to make her declare a holiday—thus showing not only respect but also reverence by giving Muslims a chance to exercise their faith. As a president of a country that is somehow divided by religious orientations—with the Muslim playing as the disadvantage minority on the one hand and the Christians as the favored majority on the other hand, acknowledging the importance of the Muslim religious tradition is a brilliant move to reach out to them.
On a more cynical view, however, I must say that the move is more politically motivated, that is to gain the needed support of the Muslim community not for any religious harmony’s sake but for a longer political life.
Going back to the idea of religion as a form of guidance, I really do not see religion as such. Faith guides, religion indoctrinates and faith is not equal to religion. Through and through it is indoctrination and nothing else. Who, better than us Filipinos should have known this?
Religion was used by the Spanish conquistadores as a tool to exploit us and our resources. With it they incite fear and guilt in the ignorant minds of our forebears. They had used religion to manipulate us. They even incorporated our own pagan practices just to attract more followers. Back then we are Indios who didn’t know any better than to hear and follow what they say.
We are not allowed to think.
To reason for ourselves.
To grasp the truth of a Supreme Being as we experienced it.
They told us what to believe and forbid us to ask questions. For Indios like us questioning is heresy. We are treated as an Indio, acted like one and for many years after that, the collective psyche of the Filipinos remains that of an Indio. Everything that come from the West are better—even their very mistakes and social malaise look better compared to our feeble ones.
Taking anything foreign as better than our own is no mere colonial mentality. It is ingrained in our innermost being, our spiritual psyche. Our inferiority as a people does not stem from our race. It comes form our religion.
Prejudice
Prejudice is like seeing a dice,
You look at one side
And then you decide
That the back is as black
As the one you look at.
USJR ‘94
…while waiting for my next class
in the classroom next door
You look at one side
And then you decide
That the back is as black
As the one you look at.
USJR ‘94
…while waiting for my next class
in the classroom next door
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Friends
To say that true friends are the best treasure we will find in this life is an understatement.
Without discounting of course, immediate family members, friends have been an important source of strength and inspiration. Friends will be there when you most needed them even if sometimes you think otherwise. They offer you a sense of balance and perspective. They will cry when you cry and rejoice in your moments of triumph.
In my life i have met and found friends of the rarest kind. A gem i can treasure forever. Oh no not a gem--but gems, for there were not just a handful. They are those who have stuck with me all through these years.
Friends who by now have seen me shed buckets of tears. Friends who have offered me comfort and solace during those trying times and friends who have been there to cheer me up and pushed me forward to go for the ---gold?. No... not gold, but go for what i always fought for---doing what i think is right.
But not only that, there have also been friends who humbly share with me their pains and worries. Friends who felt comfortable crying on my shoulder. More than anything, these gems have made my life more meaningful and fruitful. They have shown to be the best kind of trust. A humbling and inspiring experience.
There are also friends who pushed you to your limits. They sometimes hurt you but really they meant well. These people serves as your stricter guide. They keep you on edge. Make you watch your steps. And if you allow them to, make you an even more better person.
So to all my friends out there... Thanks!
Without discounting of course, immediate family members, friends have been an important source of strength and inspiration. Friends will be there when you most needed them even if sometimes you think otherwise. They offer you a sense of balance and perspective. They will cry when you cry and rejoice in your moments of triumph.
In my life i have met and found friends of the rarest kind. A gem i can treasure forever. Oh no not a gem--but gems, for there were not just a handful. They are those who have stuck with me all through these years.
Friends who by now have seen me shed buckets of tears. Friends who have offered me comfort and solace during those trying times and friends who have been there to cheer me up and pushed me forward to go for the ---gold?. No... not gold, but go for what i always fought for---doing what i think is right.
But not only that, there have also been friends who humbly share with me their pains and worries. Friends who felt comfortable crying on my shoulder. More than anything, these gems have made my life more meaningful and fruitful. They have shown to be the best kind of trust. A humbling and inspiring experience.
There are also friends who pushed you to your limits. They sometimes hurt you but really they meant well. These people serves as your stricter guide. They keep you on edge. Make you watch your steps. And if you allow them to, make you an even more better person.
So to all my friends out there... Thanks!
Luvs
I know you wouldn't have a chance of reading this but then if you have... i know... maybe you'll never really understand.
But i do love you.
No matter how remote the chance of us being together, im still clinging on to that drop of hope that somehow, someway... you'll love me back.
It doesn't matter that every chance you get you are pushing me away.
It doesn't matter that you're hurting me at every turn.
It doesn't matter that buckets of tears have been spent alone.
The love stays... for as long as it takes.
But i do love you.
No matter how remote the chance of us being together, im still clinging on to that drop of hope that somehow, someway... you'll love me back.
It doesn't matter that every chance you get you are pushing me away.
It doesn't matter that you're hurting me at every turn.
It doesn't matter that buckets of tears have been spent alone.
The love stays... for as long as it takes.
Belief
Belief, an idea in which people placed some or all of their confidence. A framework of thought that which directed individual action. Belief and its expression is as unique as the individual. And it cannot be copied. No matter where you get the initial information regarding what you believe in, the moment you embraced it and held it as true for you--it becomes uniquely yours.
The Devil
The devil is there.
It surrounds you. It hounds you.
If you give him an inch, it will take a mile.
Give him a toe, it gobbles you up whole.
The devil is there.
Beware.
It surrounds you. It hounds you.
If you give him an inch, it will take a mile.
Give him a toe, it gobbles you up whole.
The devil is there.
Beware.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
I Am What I Think I Am
Having been exposed to various kinds of psychological tests coupled with my constant conscious effort in the past to really know myself, I could say that I do know me pretty well. Pretty much so that, at this point I rarely experience feelings and behavioral responses that I could not explain. In the privacy of my own thoughts I can afford to see myself stripped of all my biases, rationalizations and other defense mechanisms that almost always appear to be harmless self-deceptions.
It is with these that the interpretations of my responses to that brief self-awareness exercise came as no surprise. The first three questions regarding favorite animals are basics—its what the animals signify to the person that chooses it rather than the commonly perceived characteristics of an animal that really tells about the individual. The last question—the one about the coffee—is what those in behavioral studies call a party ice-breaker; the sort of question that a person poses to friends just for laughs.
The second set of questions is different, however.
It had me thinking for days. I am particularly interested in the flower and the creek thing. Thing first because it highlighted change in my psyche and the second because I personally find its interpretation significantly debatable,
Starting off from a more impersonal subject, the creek, as what can be gleaned from the interpretations, somehow symbolizes friends or people surrounding the individual being tested. Those who imagined to touch the pristine waters are considered to have the tendency to be easily influenced by outside forces—suggesting a weakness in a person’s character. In all my readings and in some occasion that I found a creeks or any bodies of water, for that matter, in personality tests, it is always made to represent life. Even in prose and poetic metaphors, it is always used to convey the idea of life. Its waves represents life’s ups and downs and the way its water flows, whether peaceful, rapid, or raging, represents the condition and quality of one’s life. Taking this universally accepted abstraction of life as the basis in interpreting behavior and human tendencies, then the interpretation to the scene given would be as follows:
Those people who imagined themselves just admiring the pristine whiteness of the water ar the people who contend themselves to stand in the sidelines and have life pass them by. They are those people who are afraid to take risks, the one’s who avoid experiencing great pains at all cost and in so doing never know the depths of happiness. They enjoy life as long as they have minimal participation. They are for the most part OBSERVERS.
Those people who imagined themselves readily jumped into the water and swim around are in contrast RISK TAKERS. They are those people who are not afraid of the unknown. They are those who experiences great successes and tremendous failures. They take life as a never-ending challenge and oftentimes emerged victorious.
Those people who imagined themselves wade in at the shallow end of the waters are those that are either guided by PRUDENCE and CAUTION or hindered by it. They are those people who experience life in moderation as a general tendency
And for the most important part of the activity that hits me like a bullet—the interpretation of one’s behavioral response to the imaginary flower. During the activity, I had clearly visualized myself gently touching that mirror of nature’s beauty and splendor. Except maybe those who have allergic rhinitis, who can resist touching a beautiful, flower? To have it interpreted as a tendency to be materialistic had somehow brought conflicting emotions. Hearing the interpretations with its moralistic innuendoes, my initial reaction was from my highly hypocritical self screaming guilt. For a brief moment that morally rigid personal was asking me “What happen to the person who used to be grounded on the values of self-sacrifice; to the person who preferred the simple life of a dignified pauper.” Fortunately, the voice of reason finds it appropriate to assert herself asked, “Why, what’s wrong with wanting to live in material comfort?” As Og Mandino said in one of his books, “Poverty may be a privilege and even a way of life for the monk in the desert, for he has only himself to sustain and none but his God to please.”
There I realized that if the interpretation is correct and I’d like to think that it is, then I really did changed. Gone is the belief that the poorer you are, the closer you’ll be with God. The present me do aspire wealth and material comfort, but it does not mean that the self-sacrificing and dignified person is gone. She is still very much a part of me.
Only she has become more.
Now, she knows that life has so much to offer. She just needs to learn how to take it.
To be brave and courageous enough to partake in the abundance of life.
To have the strength and wisdom to shoulder the responsibilities of having much from life.
“Those who are much is given, more is also required.”
She knows that.
Psychological tests--standardized or otherwise--are designed in order for us or others if they wanted to, to help us reveal something about ourselves that most probably we normally ignore. The interpretations are believably accurate. However, at the end of the day, when you face yourself in the mirror it is still YOU who will define who and what you are. After all, when everything is said and done... WE are only WHAT we THINK we ARE.
It is with these that the interpretations of my responses to that brief self-awareness exercise came as no surprise. The first three questions regarding favorite animals are basics—its what the animals signify to the person that chooses it rather than the commonly perceived characteristics of an animal that really tells about the individual. The last question—the one about the coffee—is what those in behavioral studies call a party ice-breaker; the sort of question that a person poses to friends just for laughs.
The second set of questions is different, however.
It had me thinking for days. I am particularly interested in the flower and the creek thing. Thing first because it highlighted change in my psyche and the second because I personally find its interpretation significantly debatable,
Starting off from a more impersonal subject, the creek, as what can be gleaned from the interpretations, somehow symbolizes friends or people surrounding the individual being tested. Those who imagined to touch the pristine waters are considered to have the tendency to be easily influenced by outside forces—suggesting a weakness in a person’s character. In all my readings and in some occasion that I found a creeks or any bodies of water, for that matter, in personality tests, it is always made to represent life. Even in prose and poetic metaphors, it is always used to convey the idea of life. Its waves represents life’s ups and downs and the way its water flows, whether peaceful, rapid, or raging, represents the condition and quality of one’s life. Taking this universally accepted abstraction of life as the basis in interpreting behavior and human tendencies, then the interpretation to the scene given would be as follows:
Those people who imagined themselves just admiring the pristine whiteness of the water ar the people who contend themselves to stand in the sidelines and have life pass them by. They are those people who are afraid to take risks, the one’s who avoid experiencing great pains at all cost and in so doing never know the depths of happiness. They enjoy life as long as they have minimal participation. They are for the most part OBSERVERS.
Those people who imagined themselves readily jumped into the water and swim around are in contrast RISK TAKERS. They are those people who are not afraid of the unknown. They are those who experiences great successes and tremendous failures. They take life as a never-ending challenge and oftentimes emerged victorious.
Those people who imagined themselves wade in at the shallow end of the waters are those that are either guided by PRUDENCE and CAUTION or hindered by it. They are those people who experience life in moderation as a general tendency
And for the most important part of the activity that hits me like a bullet—the interpretation of one’s behavioral response to the imaginary flower. During the activity, I had clearly visualized myself gently touching that mirror of nature’s beauty and splendor. Except maybe those who have allergic rhinitis, who can resist touching a beautiful, flower? To have it interpreted as a tendency to be materialistic had somehow brought conflicting emotions. Hearing the interpretations with its moralistic innuendoes, my initial reaction was from my highly hypocritical self screaming guilt. For a brief moment that morally rigid personal was asking me “What happen to the person who used to be grounded on the values of self-sacrifice; to the person who preferred the simple life of a dignified pauper.” Fortunately, the voice of reason finds it appropriate to assert herself asked, “Why, what’s wrong with wanting to live in material comfort?” As Og Mandino said in one of his books, “Poverty may be a privilege and even a way of life for the monk in the desert, for he has only himself to sustain and none but his God to please.”
There I realized that if the interpretation is correct and I’d like to think that it is, then I really did changed. Gone is the belief that the poorer you are, the closer you’ll be with God. The present me do aspire wealth and material comfort, but it does not mean that the self-sacrificing and dignified person is gone. She is still very much a part of me.
Only she has become more.
Now, she knows that life has so much to offer. She just needs to learn how to take it.
To be brave and courageous enough to partake in the abundance of life.
To have the strength and wisdom to shoulder the responsibilities of having much from life.
“Those who are much is given, more is also required.”
She knows that.
Psychological tests--standardized or otherwise--are designed in order for us or others if they wanted to, to help us reveal something about ourselves that most probably we normally ignore. The interpretations are believably accurate. However, at the end of the day, when you face yourself in the mirror it is still YOU who will define who and what you are. After all, when everything is said and done... WE are only WHAT we THINK we ARE.
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