A Woman's View

The Woman says, “Life makes an excellent mirror.”

Then she heads on to meet people from all walks of life. Never judgmental. Never arrogant. Never proud.

When people spit on her head, she just wipes the slime and moves on. When kids run over her feet, she just leans over to remove the dust on her sandals. When other ladies look at her with envy and contempt, she just looks back at them and smiles warmly. When men stare at her with passion and exaggerated lust, she just bows her head and whisper to God, “Thank you for beauty.”

The Woman never fails to see beyond what is physical. She even uses the flaws of others to clean her own. She uses her impurities to wash the total wreckage evil have set forth amidst her.

The Woman never allows others to humiliate her, especially her opponents, though she does not regard them as such despite their causing her some trouble, for she walks in dignity even when she feels incapable.

But in the end, which she knows in her heart, she can summon her confidence and wisdom to view the world in its finest form even when its inhabitants say, “This is what you call life? It sucks!”

She would just repeat to herself, “Life makes an excellent mirror.”

And let me add, “What thou sow with life; though shall reap.”

"What goes around, comes around."

One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.

He said, 'I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.'

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and! began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help , she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, 'And think of me.'

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan .

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed something written on the napkin.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: 'You don't owe me! anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.'

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard....

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, 'Everything' s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.'

There is an old ! saying 'What goes around comes around.'

Today I post this story I received from my Aunt Lib through mail, and I'm asking you to pass it on. Let this light shine.

Downpour of Blessings Called Friendship

Yesterday I was talking about reminiscing good old college friends whom I have lost contact after graduation. Tata, or in long, Teresa Ann T. Aboy, now Herrera appreciates the magic of google -- the reason why she found me. We have texted almost half the day to update each other's whereabouts. We can't just end off our questions and recollection of memorable days in college.

Then she forwarded me Issa's number. I mean, Karissa Vera-Tan. Words just spilled out like we used to. Though by now, we're all busy with work. Unlike before, we have the whole day and the whole night just chatting like we haven't seen each other for years.

Tata is now a school administrator of a pre-school. While Issa had her Montessori training after college and now a full time mom and maintains teaching toddlers in the comforts of her home.

Yeah... now I believe that dreams really do come true.

After all, as Tata said... "We indeed have grown wiser."

And being wise is following your dream. Being not afraid to live out your own legend.

Thank you guys for the friendship!

Another Blessing!

I just can't wait for another Sunday. Blessings indeed pour. I just hope things won't turn out bad by the end of this week. Though a while back was a thunderstorm at our office, but I can let go of that... what's important is having connected some links with an old friend, and hopefully another with yet another old friend way back in college.

To Tata, we have a lot of things to catch up with. I remember those good old days you mentioned -- a day under our mango tree, munching fresh mango fruits with bagoong. And those late nights just laughing around at our silliness and craziness and stupidity about love.

I just can't wait to see you, girl. And Issa, too!

A Real Life Story About Angels

A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan.

While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.

Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of the Lord Jesus Christ. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.

Two weeks later, I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I have treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, “Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by twenty-six armed guards.”

At this, I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said, “No Sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone.”

At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened.

The missionary told the congregation the date and the man who interrupted told him this story:

“On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go and play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met me on that day stand up?”

The men who had met together that day stood up. The missionary wasn’t concerned with who they were – he was too busy counting how many men he saw. There were twenty-six.

After reading the story from a compilation of cut-outs courtesy of Ma'am Alma, I literally had goosebumps and my head seemed to be so heavy with hair. Ah! Angels! As a child, I have always believed in them. Not because my mother used to tell me a lot of stories about them but because I had several encounters with them, too. Usually in my dreams. Dejavu! Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing is for sure, I believe in angels and all other miracles, great and small in this bivouac men call life.

A Woman's Greater Love

An article in National Geographic provided a penetrating picture of love in the extreme.

After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno’s damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree.

Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother’s wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise.

She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had singed her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live.

Indeed, a Woman across cultures and across species has this kind of love far greater than an earthly love we can imagine possibly existing.

Hail to the Woman who imbibes this greater love!

Paulo Coelho Visited My Site!!!!

Dear Paulo,

Thank you for posting my entry in your site. I’m overwhelmed. Your books are really sources of inspiration to many. Keep on writing.

But just a little correction if you permit me to, I think there is some mistake in the link to my site. I tried opening it and it’s the Global Game site that appears.

Thank you.

I have finished 8 of your books. I’m currently reading Veronika Decides to Die. I have 3 more to go. Hopefully by the end of this year, I have completed my list.

____________________________________________________________

God! I'm truly overwhelmed upon opening my site and there I saw Paulo's inspiring grin on my Recent Visitors Log List. Can you imagine that? I am but just a humble fan and yet, my idol visited my site and even posted my entry in his very own website! Goodness gracious.

Ah! Maybe tonight is my first night this week that I'm going to bed with a smile of contentment on my face. This week has been tough for me. In school. In my work. With my kids. A while back we brought Garielle to her pedia because her fever came and went. Then yesterday she had rashes. Dengue! That was the reality close shut to my face. But thank goodness, it is not. It was just a usual tigdas hangin.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Who ever said I was no good to deserve some blessing!

Oh well, that reminded me. Can I make this my early edition for Blog Your Blessings Sunday?

Whoa! Too early for Sunday, eh!!!

CABAnata 11: Change, My Source of Fear

SPED 219
Education for Deviates

MAE 252
Selected Topics in Geometry

Math 275
Graph Theory

Does the abovementioned details look so familiar? You’re quite right then.

The list above is the summary of my subjects for this semester. To those who might have followed my previous entries, I might as well feed the answer to your question: “Why Math? I thought you’re going to take up Science?”

So I thought, too.

I have already decided… firmly (so I thought, too, again!) But after checking the battery of tests I have undergone myself in my Psychological Assessment class last semester, having interpreted it and pondered on it, accompanied by my brother’s opinion, I have changed my mind… to the last minute.

How many minutes?

Well, just enough for me to knock and enter the room of the university’s Associate Dean last Saturday.

My test result?

Well, let me support first my prose with my grades in college and graduate school. My College Algebra was 86, lower than my 87 grade in Biological Science; but my Statistics with Demography was 88 (I was even exempted in my final exam because our Prof promised that whoever can perfect the long test she gave will be exempted… and I perfected the test!), far higher than my Zoology lec and lab grade of 82 and my Physical Sciences of 72 (damn that Prof in Physics!); I had 89 in my Applied Mathematics while I had 78 in my Anatomy and Physiology lec and lab; I had 86 in my Inferential Statistics while I had 81 in my Inorganic Chemistry lec and lab; I had 82 and 85 in my Psychometrics 1 and 2 respectively and 86 in Taxation; I was able to have a grade of 1.25 in Psychological Testing, Statistics in Education and Methods of Research which is equivalent to 94-96; and of course, my thesis had a grade of 1.50 or 93, which I can proudly say that every painstaking detail of my Statistical treatment was scrutinized by no other person but me.

Do I sound bragging? Hope not! I am just proud of the fruits of my sacrifices.

As for the test result:

My Aptitude test told me I am better in Mathematics than in Science. My IQ Test told me I am good in Non-Verbal Analogy. My Interest test also asserted that I have an inclination to numbers.

Now tell me, was I wrong in my decision?

I have decided. I have six units this semester. I will take another nine this summer while having my Graduate Seminar in SPED. I will take another six in the first semester of school year 2008-2009 in addition with my Thesis 1 and Comprehensive Exam. Another six for the second semester with my Thesis 2. Hopefully in 2009, I shall graduate from another MA degree, this time in Special Education with a minor in Mathematics. And next school year, hopefully again, I will be able to seek a teaching job from a respected school like my present school. Degrees. Experience. Increasing my chances for the US.

But do I really like to go to the US?

Of course I do. Actually, I want to travel around the world. Visit Paris and even Istanbul. But to work there as a teacher, well, I’m not quite sure.

But I really want to earn enough money to build my own school for children with special needs. And the only way I can do that is to go to the US and teach there. I can’t be a nurse! The more that I don’t want to be a nurse!

But then again, as I am thinking over my plans, there is this part of me that doesn’t like to get to the finish line.

"There were two things that prevent us from achieving our dreams; believing them to be impossible or seeing those dreams made possible by some sudden turn of the wheel of fortune, when you least expected it. For at that moment, all our fears suddenly surface: the fear of setting off along a road heading who knows where, the fear of a life full of new challenges, the fear of losing forever everything that is familiar."

These were the thoughts of Chantal Prym when she was deciding whether to continue battling with her Evil and take the side of her Good by not running away with the gold bar.

And I think this too is my story and everyone else’s.

At the back of my mind, I am not also fully convinced if I can really put up my own school. I am afraid to take responsibility. But I want to help. I want to initiate some changes in this side of my town which I love so dearly but seem to have been laid back by economic advancements and positive technology.

I am also afraid to take the plunge because I know I am leaving something I have loved and worked for in the last thirteen years. Testing and Counseling is what I am good at. Though I know teaching is not too far from my chosen profession, I still have hesitations whether or not I can be effective.

And yes, I am terrorized by the thought of setting foot in a foreign land where in the first few months, I don’t have my family with me, that is, Ronald and Beatrice and Gabrielle.

I fear of setting off along a road heading who knows where, I fear of a life full of new challenges, I fear of losing forever everything that is familiar.

But I have changed my life with a flick of my pen last Saturday by choosing Mathematics over Science. I just hope my decision would suit me and would be kind to me. I just hope my decision would bring me to my dreams. I hope against all hopes that my decision can build a school for kids close to my heart.

The Devil and Miss Prym

“Ah! Sweet revenge!”

That was my very first utterance after flicking through the last page in Coelho’s novel The Devil and Miss Prym.

As the lines go:

She had only returned to say goodbye to Berta. She was wearing the same clothes she usually wore, so that nobody there would know that, in her short visit to the city, she had become a wealthy woman. The stranger had arranged everything, signing all the papers necessary for the transfer in ownership of the gold bars, so that they could be sold and the money deposited in Miss Prym’s newly opened account…

…”They’re going to build a fountain in my honor,” Berta announced. “It’s the price for my silence.”…

…Chantal asked what the fountain would look like. Berta had decided that it should be a sun spouting water into the mouth of a frog. She was the sun and the priest was the frog...

…”And now you are finally going to do as I suggested, my girl. One thing I can tell you with absolute certainty; life can seem either very long or very short, according to how you live it.”

Chantal smiled, gave her a kiss, and turned her back on Viscos for the last time. The old woman was right: there was no time to lose, though she hoped that her life would be very long indeed.

Sweet revenge indeed.

How Miss Prym was able to get such sum amount of money through eleven gold bars courtesy of the stranger is up for you to discover. So is for the reason of my reaction.

This book by Coelho is another worth the read that you cannot even afford to stop and pee because each page reveals the truth about life – with this, the fight of good and evil within a person.

Let me quote from page 39:

“Good and Evil have the same face; it all depends on when they cross the path of each individual human being.”

The Devil and Miss Prym concludes the trilogy And on the Seventh Day. The first two books were: By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept (which was the first book of Coelho I was able to read) and Veronika Decides to Die (which I am currently reading). Each of the three books is concerned with a week in the life of ordinary people, all of who find themselves suddenly confronted by love – By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, death – Veronika Decides to Die and power – The Devil and Miss Prym.

Seven days. That is too long enough to change the course of life of any ordinary individual. We just wake up the following minute or even with a blink of an eye, everything in our life has changed. Even with the words we seem to be ordinarily saying can alter the life we so carefully worked on for years. Changes often come when we least expect it. And oftentimes, change is accompanied by challenges to test our courage and willingness to change according to Coelho; at such moment, there is no point pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready.

And in Coelho’s final note:

“The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.”

So true. There are moments where my Good and my Evil came hand in hand, both look so much alike. And I have to decide fast. Maybe, with just a flick of my pen.

Tomorrow, I shall tell you how.

How about you, do you have your own story of a week of grandiose change?

Bookworm's Pick 3: Happy Endings

Don’t come swooning at this one, running for a copy in the bookstore just to have a taste of those butterflies fleeing about your tummy when you were in teeny high, like the ones I used to have even with the mere sight of my crush’s extra-ordinary audio flippers!

This one according to FHM is not like that "kilig" you’ll probably find when a Juday-Ryan pair up is in the mix. The title is part of the literary compilation of short fiction by Luis Joaquin Katigbak, which usually tells about reinvented identities, emotional conflicts and Wednesday afternoons.

Argh! Tuesdays with Morrie and first Friday masses for me. Maybe with this one, as I sense it would, will make us realize that love is not all happy endings. That love has many faces. That love can either make or break us. Or even reinvent who we are. Or just yet, pursuit for happiness does not rely on happy endings but happy struggles because happiness is not a destination; it is a way of life. We may find happiness but life doesn’t end there. We move on. And in moving on, we meet failures and heartaches and more of pain’s other features. And so our struggle continues. Life continues.

Happy endings?

I bet my head on that if you can find me… if there is such… in this realm, of course.

Things I am thankful for:

I can’t wait until Sunday to blog my blessings. I just woke up this morning with a downpour of thoughts of things I should be thankful for. Well, if you’ve been reading through my blogs, there’s a side of me that’s slowly dying, of which I don’t know what! So I was just so happy that upon opening my eyes, my real eyes can now see through an array of what are worth thanking for. Let me enumerate:

1. For the alarm that disturbed my dreamless night. It means that I’m still alive. That this dying thing within me is not who I really am. Whatever that means! Whichever it is… there is still hope. And I am not backing out from the fight.

2. For my yet still weary and aching muscles for both working hard and lulling Gaby to sleep late last night while chanting over and over again, “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head. Mommy called the doctor and the doctor said, No more little monkeys jumping on the bed! Four little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head. Mommy called the doctor and the doctor said, No more little monkeys jumping on the bed! Three little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head. Mommy called the doctor and the doctor said, No more little monkeys jumping on the bed! ……………” and so on until no monkey was left. It means I’m still capable of working hard for my family and I have kids to bring me joy in moments like these.

3. For my uniform that fit a little tighter than last month, snuggling a bit. It means there is more than just enough food to eat set on our table. There was never a day I have grown hungry or thirsty. I may not eat in expensive and glamorous restaurants but I am still able to eat. I think bagoong and talbos ng kamote did pretty well for last night’s dinner.

4. For the mobile phone load I ran out of. It means I have friends to text back to when they forward messages or text to just to keep in touch. That a peso is not important if it means maintaining friendships that have bloomed with time.

5. For the bed that needs fixing, windows that need dusting, and a house that needs cleaning. It means I have a home. It may not be a mansion with unslept rooms and untouched dining. Needless, it’s a home of a grandmother who grunts all day for back ache taking care of two snarling cubs but loves them anyway. A father who may not be in his tuxedo but only in his plain working clothes as he does the cooking and the laundry. A mother who may sometimes nag her husband but still a woman who holds her family closest to her being. And with two lovely girls who may bite each other and ran across the small house ground snarling one time and laughing the next time. Needless indeed, this is a home. And this is my home.

Ah! Tomorrow will be another day. And tomorrow, I will be with friends with the same struggle, much with the same dreams and thrust. Tomorrow, I will belong to a group of Special Educators. Tomorrow, I will spend a day with children with special needs. Tomorrow will be another learning experience. Tomorrow will either be another dying and living. I just hope, my evil will be defeated soon… as soon as when tomorrow comes.

Bookworm's Pick 2: Memories of My Melancholy Whore

After reading that long narrative of Love in Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I am hoping against hope that this striking title he made out for this one is not as boring.

Let us see what FHM has to say:

It begins with the line, “The year I turned ninety, I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin.”

Ain’t that suck! Yucky as hell! But if you wish to read on, just read on…

FHM continues:

This slim volume unfolds on this premise (the quote before my interruption… Oh well, I just wanna interrupt to garnish FHM’s column with my own write-up!) made by an unnamed Colombian journalist (Isn’t that pathetic? Writing a piece about some character with no name, like a horse lost in the desert which has no name? pardon me for my interruption… again!) and teacher – a slightly talented man (maybe he doesn’t even know how to kiss and f*!), never been married (now I understand!), never been in love (a real asshole!).

Oh well (this is me, talking…), everything in the parentheses are mine. Then again, my interruption. I just wanna share my piece of thought as I read through the review. As I’ve claimed, a touch of my madness and spontaneity.

We move on… promise I won’t interrupt. FHM says:

This one is a recounting of love found at unexpected time (…sigh…) and place (…sigh…sigh…), a novel that’s said to be lifted from the author’s own accounts (…more sighs…). Even after an absence of ten years in the literary scene, Marquez’s style never falters (oh, well…). He throws in yet another masterfully crafted parable under his name.

A Woman's Pain

An unknown woman in the Ravensbruck consecration camp wrote this little prayer and pinned it to the dead body of a little girl. I would like to share her prayer:

Oh Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will but also those of ill will. But do not remember all they have inflicted on us. Remember rather the fruits we have brought, thanks to this suffering; our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown out of all of these. And when they come to judgment, let all the fruits we have borne be their forgiveness.

Betsie Ten Boom, who died in the consecration camp, steadfastly refused to hate the guards who beat her and eventually, beat her to death. Her dying words were both simple and profound. Listen to what she said:

We must tell the people what we have learned here. We must tell them that there is no pain so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.

That is incredible! (William Bausch, More Telling Stories, Compelling Stories. page 28.)

A Woman knows that her pain is experiencing the beauty of life itself. And it is a wonderful life to be lived until her last drop of blood.

Bookworm's Pick 1: Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Hey! I’m done and over with him!

As a matter of fact, ours had a closure, unlike that first love I was talking about. Ah well, on my part, that is.

………………Silence……………

Oooopsss!!! That was a touch of my madness and spontaneity. Surely I know I wasn’t talking about Dexter my past but of a character in the selection by Jeff Lindsay.

This book gets you closer to the way of thinking of a brutal serial killer. Like FHM puts it, this thriller in a way introduces you to the belly of these psychotic beasts flaunting their cunning, deceiving side in the open. It lets you on his slaughter sessions, his rituals, and how his evil mind works. Though the book does not only focus on this evil side but also on the frailties of a more human perspective in comparison to other psychopath tales.

Oh well, at least, no matter how dark the memory comes creeping in, Dexter always had that number one spot even in my list. Geeeezzzz!!!

CABAnata 10: Happiness is a Voyage

First, I was dying to finish elementary and be a teenager… a high school bopper. Then I was dying to finish high school and start college. And then I was dying to finish college and start working. And then I was dying to marry and have children. And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough for school so I could have more time for myself. And then I was dying to retire. And now, I am dying… And suddenly I realized I forgot to live.

This was just a text message from an old friend of which has caught my writing interest. I pondered on it for a while. And not just saved it on “My folders” menu but copied it a couple of times on separate notebooks. It’s not that I have fetish for such (just a sort of…) but I find it as a good material for analysis… introspection… meditation… or call it self-reflection… heart-examination… and soul searching. Or it was just mere foresight that I am now to use it to share something good and of value with you today… on my blog… while I myself undergo what I usually tell my clients: “Reflect!”

Yes, I am reflecting… as always. Reading what nature wants to tell me, pretending to be a real alchemist, that is. Perhaps, it’s just my imagination. Or worst, my hallucination – that I was brought here by the tides of time for some purpose. Like some cosmic conspiracy as I have always believed in.

I’m about to finish reading The Devil and Miss Prym by Coelho. And I realized, I don’t have the expertise of Berta who can understand the signs nature brings or can talk to a dead love one warning me what omens are on their way.

Last Friday, I watched with the luxury of time the long break from school provided The Pursuit of Happyness casted by Will Smith. I may not have shed a tear, but only God knows how my heart broke as the episode unfolds. Whether the movie was right or not; or happiness is spelled with an “i” or “y”; or happiness should really be pursued or not, I find myself that part of Chris Gardener’s life as being true for me – “Running!”

A couple of weeks ago, I received a forwarded mail from my Uncle Albert whose in the US. I had no time to open the attachment though because it was 2.5MB long. I saved it until last night. Got hit by a railway truck a hundredfold. Because the content goes:

(Note: As for Miss Prym and the movie, I’ll save that for another entry tomorrow. Or next week.)

We convince ourselves that life will be better once we are married, have a baby, then another.

Then we get frustrated because our children are not old enough, and all will be well when they are older.

Then we are frustrated because they reach adolescence and we must deal with them. Surely, we’ll be happier when they grow out from the teen years.

We tell ourselves, our life will be better when our spouses gets his/her act together, when we have a nicer car, when we can take a vacation whenever and wherever we would like to, when we finally retire.

The truth is, there is no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?

Your life will always be full of challenges. It is better to admit as much and to decide to be happy in spite of it all.

For the longest time, it seemed that life was about to start. Real life. But there were always some obstacles along the way, an ordeal to get through, some work to be finished, some time to be given, a bill to be paid. Then life would start. I finally came to understand that those obstacles were life.

That point of view helped me see that these isn’t any road to happiness. Happiness IS the road.

So enjoy every moment. Stop waiting for school to end, for a return to school, to lose ten pounds, to gain ten pounds, for work to begin, to get married, for Friday evening, for Sunday morning, waiting for a new car, for your mortgage to be paid off, for spring, for summer, for fall, for winter, for the first or fifteenth of the month, for your song to be played on the radio, to die, to be reborn… before deciding to be happy.

“Happiness is a voyage, not a destination. There is no better time to be happy than… NOW! Live and enjoy the moment.”

- Author unknown

This is just half of the whole 2.5MB message from my uncle. But I will cut it from here. I will head on for another reflection. But as of the moment, this is my struggle.

I am seeing right before my very senses the fight happening between my good and my evil. Of which I would feed, I know would win. And I’m not sure, in this time of my life, which am I feeding.

As I read all over my notebook of quotes the text message from my friend, I feel something within me dies.

When I turn page by page Coelho’s book, I can sense something in me is invigorated.

As I concentrated watching Gardener’s life, that something inside me is aroused – one with pride, the other with loathing.

While I wrote Uncle’s message in my blank sheet, an impression begins to stir in the deepest recesses of my being.

And even as I tap the keyboard of my pc for this entry, the uproar within me persists.

Until when?

I’m not sure.

And so thus, my REFLECTION continues…

A Woman's Labor

“What are you doing, Hon?” asks her husband one late evening.

“I’m ironing your clothes for the week, Darling.” was her warm reply.

“What are you doing, Mom?” the kids ask during a lazy rainy afternoon.

“I’m mending your uniforms, Dear.” she says with a loving look upon her children’s face.

The following day, her friends dropped by and saw she was busy in the kitchen, they asked, “What are you doing in there?”

She answered with a smile of fondness upon her lips, “I’m baking a cake for you and cookies for your kids.”

That same afternoon, a neighbor passed by her garden and saw she was tilling the soil, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”

Full of compassion she said, “I’m growing these vegetables for the neighborhood. You can have some for dinner if you want. Here, you can take these eggplants for your family.”

This is her… a Woman who labors not for herself but for others. She does things with much love in her heart, even if it means giving all of herself and leaving none for her happiness.

For a Woman knows, it is in giving that she receives more.

Hope I can have you!

Sounds sooooo romantic!

Conceited?

Perhaps.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not man-izing, whatsoever. I’m perfectly in love and contented with my husband and I patronize monogamy.

“Hope I can have you!” is just my usual outburst if I see books hounding my sight (even in my dreams), book reviews included. It’s the reason why I have my Shelfari account that I will always be in touch with the world of books. And of course, I keep clippings of book reviews from magazines (My hubby’s FHM collection is not excused from my scissors’ crime, cutting that is.) and papers.

Here are some of my list from Psychology Today (Ooopsss!!! I didn’t commit any crime here, eh!):

(Note: This is in no particular order. I just want the books. Hope friends would read this so they will know what to buy me for Christmas. Hahahahaha!!!)

1. The Myth of Self-Esteem: How Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy can Change Your Life Forever by Albert Ellis (thinking like a real Psych pro, eh!)

2. Secret Girl by Molly Bruce Jacobs

3. This Changes Everything: The Relational Revolution in Psychology (Argh!)

4. Self-Psychology: An Introduction by Peter A Lessem (got a dream of being a Psychologist or a Psychotherapist!)

5. Identifying and Understanding the Narcissistic Personality by Elsa F. Ronningstam (now you know why?)

6. Play Therapy Interventions with Children’s Problems by Gary Landreth (my being a counselor and SpEd teacher combined in this one)

7. Son of a Witch by Gregory Maguire (well, I’m not!)

8. The Sociopath Next Door (tell me who the author is, please!)

9. Leonardo’s Notebook (who?)

10. Vampires: Encounters with the Undead (getting the creeps from ate Maan…)

11. The Third Chimpanzee by Jared Diamond (our neighbor stuck with her husband told me she sleeps with the second chimp every night… real loud snore!)

12. Cell by Stephen King (I think this is just the second novel by King I wanna read, “It” was the first one. Just accidentally had the first though!)

13. An Argument for Mind by Jerome Kagan (sounds like a good read when I start to get bored!)

14. Crazy by Peter Easley (sounds like a good read when I start to get some nuts crumbling on my head!)

15. The Imperfect Mom by Therese Borchard (the Mom that I am, I must admit!)

16. The Naked Brain by Richard Restak (hope I don’t get bludgeoned!)

17. Profilers by John Campbell (do you have a copy?)


Well, that’s all for now. Tomorrow I’ll post some reviews from FHM (demure… demure… demure… uh-ah!) Remember that I’m a writer in this site, not a Counselor in a Catholic School!

Pardon me my Directress. Honestly, I don’t read the whole mag, I just flip over the Book Review Section and cut them and off my hands go… (I’m not keeping my fingers crossed for this one! Honest! Really I don’t!!!)

Sigh!

Gentleness of a Woman

Gentle Woman

Gentle Woman, quiet light
Morning star, so strong and bright
You are chosen by the Father
You are chosen for the Son
You are chosen from all women
And for women, you’re a guiding light.

Gentle Mother, peaceful dove
Teach us wisdom, teach is love
You are chosen by the Father
You are chosen for the Son
You are chosen from all women
And for women, you’re a guiding light.

A Woman’s gentleness eases not just physical pain but even of our brokenness. Healing external and internal discomforts by the warmth of her touch and the tenderness in her voice.

Like the Virgin Mother who in the Gospels, was mentioned only during Jesus’ birth, suffering and death is a picture of such gentleness. Her restoring presence was evident in Jesus’ life only when He needed strength the most.

Such is a Woman; her charisma is a gift to pacify disputes waged by man against nature, man and himself.

No woman is a Woman when she brings dishonor to her country and family. She is not Woman if she brings division and rivalry.

A Woman's Calm

“10% of conflicts are due to difference in opinion; 90% is due to wrong tone of voice.”

A Woman knows this fact, thus, she does not rely on wisdom alone; she makes use of her calm, too.

She does not enter into a dispute with a raging thunderstorm but with the serenity of an early morning breeze. Then she opens her heart with her own reason and listens to the other’s. In the process, she discovers that the pain of her opponent is far greater than hers.

The Woman then stops the argument and turns to God for deliverance – not for her but for her enemy.

People who see this would say, “She’s a fool! Why would she retreat from the dispute and pray for her enemy’s behalf?”

But God would grant her the prayer of her heart and says to the Woman, “I was never wrong when I created you.”