When people ask me to define love, I say, "Love is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart, and trusting them to never pull the trigger." (Sponge Bob)

When they ask me why I laugh at my mistakes and even write them with pride in my blogs, I say, "I'm not crazy. I just don't give a damn!" (Daffy Duck)

When one time I was conducting a group activity, a student asked what road sign I love the most, I said, "I like dead end signs. I think they're kind. They at least have the decency to let you know you're going nowhere…" (Bugs Bunny)

And when for the nth time a friend would ask me what do I get from writing, I'm not even sure if there are good old souls out there visiting my site, I just smile and say, "Kung gusto mong maging manunulat, eh di magsulat ka. Simple." (Bob Ong)

And last night when Eva said she wants to quit from her work because nobody believes in her, her boss got mad at her, she doesn't even have friends at her agency, and she's crying like hell, I said, "Either you stay to prove your worth or you quit and just show them you're a loser, you have to strive for your happiness." (MY original)

My CHOICES: I remained believing in love. I continued spicing up my mistakes and rewriting my life, accepting failure but keep on dreaming until words would fade into thin air.

Aug 13, 2008

Tuesdays with Morrie (Mondays with Me)

In the South American rainforest, there is a tribe called the Desana, who see the world as a fixed quantity of energy that flows between all creatures. Every birth must therefore engender a death, and every death brings forth another birth. This way, the energy of the world remains complete.

When they hunt for food, the Desana know that the animals they kill will leave a hole in the spiritual well. But that hole will be filled, they believe, by the souls of the Desana hunters when they die. Were there no men dying, there would be no birds and fish being born. I like this idea. Morrie likes it, too. The closer he gets to good-bye, the more he seems to feel we are all creatures in the same forest. What we take, we must replenish.

"It's only fair," he says.

I'm reading two books in a row which I started the other Saturday; both of which is written by Mitch Albom. You guessed it right if you are a fan of this renowned author – Tuesdays with Morrie and The Five People You Meet in Heaven.

It seems I cannot have much time savoring the content of these books. I read one on my way to school and on my way home. Yeah, my usual routine. I read inside the bus. Sorry to Dr. Guani, I never followed her advice. Does that make me a bad patient? Sort of, eh!

But what did I get from reading through Morrie inside a moving vehicle? Headache? Yeah! Headache and nausea. I don't care.

Go back to the above italics, isn't it amazing to know that we are all interconnected? God created you and me and anyone and anything else in this world for a purpose. Not just out of a childish whimsical chuvanes of an ultimate showing off of power. I am here because I was destined to be here. You were born because you were meant to be. A blade of grass grew out of proportion in your neatly manicured lawn because it was preordained by nature to be there. There is meaning in every swaying of the leaves. There is purpose in every drop of dew. There is significance in every lighted fire. There is a consequence for every word spoken no matter how trivial. There is one rhythm the Earth follows. And for a single beat that falters, everything falls out of order.

Death? Life? It is part of the cycle. It is part of the rhythm. It is the beat that all human and animals and plants and even the simplest of all creations – both living and non-living things – everything fills in a destined place, and when it vacates its place, something would fill in the vacated hole.

What the heck is this hole? Simple. It is that key note when left unattended would erode and pull everything else, destroying the beauty and balance of nature. Leaving a vacuum of nothingness.

"I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.

"Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. he's enjoying the wind and the fresh air – until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore."

"'My God, this is terrible,' the wave says. 'Look what's going to happen to me!'

"Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, 'Why do you look so sad?'

"The first wave says, 'You don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?'

"The second wave says, 'No, you don't understand. You're not a wave; you're part of the ocean.'"

I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.

"Part of the ocean," he says, "part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

Indeed, we are all part of a great ocean. A greater plan. That even after death, eternity awaits us. Only the physical of who we are dies. And decays. But the wonder of our creation merges with a far reaching purpose. Whatever that may be… I'll just see you when we get there!

Yeah… when our time comes. When we crash to the shore. When we join all other waves. When we realize we are home in our oceans.

And after closing the last page of Mitch's lessons with Morrie, I break loose the page of the other book so I can have a good taste of its substance – trying to find out how is it to have another day with a loved one.

Next issue, I shall post my review for "For One More Day". Feeling so spooky? Hope not. Because Morrie said, "It is only when we learn how to die that we learn how to live."

"Why so?" Again he said, "Everyone knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently."

"How?" you may ask. I say, "If you knew that you will have to die at exactly six o'clock this evening, I bet you won't honk and curse the old lady crossing passed your CRV. Instead, you'll move out from the comforts of your car and lead that lady where she is headed to."

Now, that's what's makes death help you to become more human. Adding an extra "e" so you become humane.

For the next part of this post -- "Mondays with Me",

Aaaahhhh.... I guess you have to wait until Monday!

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