These Are The Books...

These are the books you don't want to read... but read anyway.

They never aspire to be easy yet they grab you by the throat and force you to finish them, milking the last bit of your attention to the issues they scream out.

These books talk about the things you, in your right mind, wouldn't want to know. About human immorality and the depravity it breeds. About stories that leave you both clutching your fist in righteous anger and lowering your brows to helplessness and utter resignation.

These are the books you don't enjoy, that were never meant to be enjoyed, but were written solely for the purpose of raising your awareness and calling you to action.

These are the books which talk about murder, slavery, rape, exploitation, of human suffering and human despair. These are the books best left shunned aside in a corner, well away from the coffee tables and the book shelves.

Yet, these are the books which cry out for redemption, a redemption which can only be won by you alone. They cry out to be saved, to be assured that, despite our propensity towards evil, the human spirit is essentially good and well.

These are the books that form a conscience.

Remembering The Plan

Rummaging through my things. Cleaning up my room. Saw my fourth year college retreat journal. Read through an entry. My ten-year vision. Before thirty, will have finished law school. Become a practicing attorney. Will have started a business. Be a millionaire by then. Become a thriving philanthropist. Enter a Jesuit seminary after ten years. Dedicate myself to God. Get married to the church. Smiling now. Plan didn't go exactly as planned. Was twenty when I wrote this. Now, I'm twenty four. Didn't enroll in law school. Had more important things to do. Like earning a living, for example. Starting a business. That's one thing from the plan. I'm actually doing it right now. Currently, thinking of pursuing further studies, but not Law. Become a priest by thirty? Yes, gave myself until thirty to decide. Anything can still happen. I have six years left. Practice philanthropy? Getting there. Still, the plan was just a plan. The goal still remains, however. But the way to the end is subject to revision.

Winning Our Salvation 2

How exactly did Jesus Christ win our salvation? Joseph Conti has another idea in mind. Although quite different from what I proposed awhile back, both ideas bear a slight similarity. That is, both affirm that salvation stems not primarily from Jesus Christ's death on the cross, as many Christians would like to emphasize:

"...Christ saves" - but from what? What are we being saved from? From death? From suffering? From sin? From exactly what? The answer that the Christian mystics supply is astonishing...The mystics teach us that at each stage of our journey to God, God saves us in a distinct way from a special limiting force that, at that stage of the journey, is blocking a fuller life in Him. Thus, in the first movement of our journey, God saves us from the wrongly-oriented ego.

He does this by sending awakening conversion graces, which invite us to see that our highest good is in Him. As we lovingly respond, God leads us to divine intimacy, which results in our coming to the illuminative Way, the ego's single-hearted attachment to God, and then beyond the ego to the unitive state. But God stil has more saving work in us to do. For though the unitive state is a state of Light, it is not fully transparent to the Light, in ways that we will explain presently. Thus begins the second movement to salvation.

This second and final Way God saves us is to deliver us beyond all self: for the medium of self, even the God-united egoless self, does not give us God as God is in Himself, but only God as God is in ourselves. The ultimate gift God wants to give us is to know Him as He knows Himself.

Joseph Conti
Holistic Christianity

Pause and pray.

Heaven As We Know It

Let me bring up a scene from the movie, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

Irina Spalko, the movie's villain, finally arrives at the Temple of Akator. After she returns the crystal skull to one headless alien skeleton, the alien being asks her what she wants in return. She demands full knowledge of everything in the universe and what ensues is a scenario befitting the cliche, "Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it." Through psychic telepathy, the aliens bombards Irina with their immense knowledge. Unfortunately, her human brain isn't up to the task and she disintegrates.

I call this an interesting scene. From what I can infer, Irina's wish for ultimate knowledge can be likened also to the Christian's wish to go to heaven. Both wishes point to one desire, which is the desire for God, for the Absolute. Just as Irina aspires to gain unity with the Ultimate, so we aspire to be united with God.

Unfortunately, her desire proves to be her undoing. Because of her human limitations, she vaporizes right before her eyes. And so must we. For to know heaven as Christ knows it, we must cease being human, die, and become Christ himself. Hmmm...

I just discovered I won't be a good apologetic.

Speaking For What You Believe

This article just made my day. Rarely do you see young people speak with as much gravity and conviction over an issue as heavy as this. This also made me wonder what I was doing at her age (probably worrying about acne and all).

Here's the link to Lia Mill, a brave girl speaking her heart out about abortion.

Palengke

Marketplaces, I've discovered, are actually fascinating places to visit. So many smells and so many sights greet your senses, they can sometimes overwhelm. Unlike their mall counterparts, the air-conditioned and "hygienic" grocery stores, the open-air types beckon you with a teeming and hectic atmosphere and the opportunity to experience a different slice of the city.

My first foray into marketing were during my childhood years, when after mass, my parents would haul the entire family to Bankerohan. They would then proceed with the morning's ritual. Buy some vegetables, check. Buy some meat, check. Then, eating puto maya and drinking tsikwate afterwards, check.

But that was long ago. With the advent of the malls, it was more convenient to avoid the market stalls in favor of the grocery lines.

Then, I had to visit again Bankerohan and Agdao. This was just last year. I had to do a bit of canvassing for some ingredients in my Pares-Pares recipe and I had to do it personally. Frankly, I was a little apprehensive since I didn't know the Bisaya terms of the stuff I needed to buy and I didn't know the manner by which people would carry out their transactions in the market. A little research finally helped me and I soon found myself, blending in, conversing with vendors in the local dialect, doing a bit of negotiation, hoping to get the best price.

I was exhilarated, not just because it was my first time to be buying sa palengke, but also because there was so much to learn about it all (Also, I bet no one I talked to suspected I was an Ateneo graduate. Hehe).

Par

December 18, 2010

In your prayers, please remember:

1. MR. ALEJANDRINO "ALEX" PAR (former AdDU High School Prefect of Discipline & faculty member) who returned to his Creator on December 18, 2010.

The wake is at the St. Peter's Funeral Homes in Panacan. Cremation will be on December 23. Other details will be announced by the family.

The Alumni Office was informed by St. Peter's Funeral Homes that as of 3 p.m. Saturday, December 18th, the body of Mr. Alex Par was still at Brokenshire Hospital. Please call St. Peter's Funeral Homes at telephone (082) 234-6211, for latest information about the wake.

From the Ateneo De Davao Alumni Affairs Office

Ma'am Q had told me belatedly that Sir Alex Par had passed away. As for me, it was Mama who broke the news initially. Sir Par, after enduring bouts of sickness, was finally gone.

So, with this, let me give credit to where it's due. Many people have commented at my voice. Some say I sound like a DJ, a compliment which never fails to make me uncomfortable (only because I despise DJs and their slang English accents which they try to pass off as "normal"). But the way I speak is largely because of constant practice, particularly when I was young.

Mama and I would speak in English at home (I think I'm the only one among my siblings who would do so). But the habit was continued in school and Sir Par was the reason for that. Every lunch time, he would converse with me in English and when I was in the faculty room, scribbling some drawings on my mother's desk, he would drop by the desk and converse with me again in English. And this would happen week in and week out.

Stressful? Yes, initially. I was a Grade 1 student talking to a high school professor, speaking in English, afraid I would embarrass my mom, an English teacher, by pronouncing some words wrong. But the queasy feeling would disappear eventually, especially when, during the flow of conversation, Sir Par would give one of his elusive smiles and walk away, grinning.

I learned an important lesson then. If you want people to listen to you and to be impressed, learn and speak English fluently and that's exactly what I did. During the course of my education, I've tried hard to express myself in English, knowing full well how much power, how much leverage, the language possessed for those who've practiced enough to wield it effectively.

So, it goes without saying that I'm very much a part of this man's legacy. Rest in peace, Sir Par. You deserve it for a job well done.

Tubbataha

PCIJ published a piece online about Tubbataha, one of the country's gems. Nominated to become part of the new Seven Wonders of nature, the article particularly highlighted how multi-sectoral collaboration helped assure the continued protection of the reef and its marine inhabitants.

Highlighted as a "no-take zone", Tubbataha's continued protection ultimately hinged on the participation of the local populace, who were mostly fisher folk. How the government and the various NGOs won the people over, from being relentless pursuers of nature's bounty to vigilant protectors of the reef, is a good lesson on shrewd diplomacy.

The article mentioned that the government was keen on giving alternative means of livelihood to the people to help them wean away from fishing. But what ultimately decided the matter was a simple argument built on what was seemingly a no-brainer paradox: less fishing, bigger fish catch. If people kept away from exploiting the bounty of Tubbataha, nature would reward them with better fish harvests.

The logic behind this was based on the fact that Tubbataha was and still is a very important fish sanctuary. Without any fishing activity in its area, the reef allowed fish populations to rehabilitate themselves and thrive. This ultimately led to a spillover effect. As more fish sprung from the reef, even more would leave this safe haven in search of less crowded habitats, leading to bigger bounties for fishermen waiting outside the "no-take zone".

To end, another article mentioning this phenomenon was published by the Smithsonian a few years back.

Pugad Baboy

My love affair with Pugad Baboy started a long time ago.

We were staying in the home of one of Papa's distant relatives in Pampanga. My sister and I were fresh from a YFC-ILC in Clark Expo and were sleeping in their home prior to our return trip to Davao.

Our relative had this bookshelf full of Pugad Baboy books. These were anthologies, compilations, of the comic strip series. Finding nothing else to do, I decided to read one book. By then, I was hooked. I remember still being awake in the wee hours of the morning, trying to read the rest of the series before we had to leave that place. That was my first encounter.

Flash forward to 2009. I was an unemployed bum, trying to look for something interesting in the mall. I happened to drop by a bookstore and saw a Pugad Baboy book on sale. The price was still pretty steep but I bought it anyway and the idea dawned on me, "Why not buy the rest of the series instead? That way, I'll have a collection of my own and have a few laughs as well."

So I proceeded to buy another, and another, and another still. Right now, I think I have an almost-complete set: the two Sunday compilation issues, and the yearly books. What I don't have though are the following: Pugad Baboy 3, Pugad Baboy 7, and Pugad Baboy 8. Unfortunately, the mentioned books appear to be out of stock (no mention of these in eBay either).

So if you can help me complete my "collection", I'd be most glad. You're going to make one guy really, really happy.

Teaching Some Manners

JM is a kid. He's the son of Ate Judith, our househelp before. One day, I was buying something in the sari-sari store and he was tagging along.

Then, he positioned himself in front of the concrete wall beside the store and began pissing. He was smiling sheepishly at me and I noticed I was furrowing my eyebrows.

Back home, I confronted him sternly. " Wala ko ganahi sa imong gibuhat", I remember saying when I started my brief sermon. "Una, pakita kag respeto sa silingan nimo. Kung nakakita man siya sa imo nga nangihi sa iyahang pader, ganahan kaya siya ana? Ikaduwa, dili ka iro. Tao ka. Pangita ug tarong na lugar kung asa ka mangihi. Duol lang kaayo ang balay. Ngano didto pa ka mangihi sa daplin?"

Of course, the kid didn't talk to me for a long time but I sure could say I got my point across. Personally, I also believe it's high time that we teach men some manners.

Peeing in public is one issue that readily comes to mind. Filipino men are quite notorious when it comes to this. Obviously, there are some scenarios which warrant and allow such kind of behavior. Being stuck in a deserted place with no comfort room in sight is one such scenario.

However, if I were in a downtown area and I know there are comfort rooms nearby which I can use, then why would I pee in public? Yet, most of us men resort to this. One chief reason is because it's more convenient. It's more convenient to pee right there and then than walk around looking for a comfort room with your bladder about to burst.

Clearly, we're definitely not masters of delayed gratification and that's a worrying thought. This only shows that we're not masters of discipline as well since we would rather act like dogs in public rather than suffer a minor yet temporary difficulty. It's a shame really because such a behavior, such a lack of discipline, often makes itself manifest in other more serious acts, which, in turn, bear heavier consequences to ourselves and to others.

Peeing in public is more than an obnoxious, commonplace spectacle. It's a symptom of a collective sickness in need of a remedy.

This Is Real

This is real. Simply a great marketing tag line by the NBA.

For the rest of us though, it's a reminder of the sheer weight we carry around. Ever remember Nursery? Or Prep? Those were fun times. And there was always this activity where the teacher would ask her pupils, "Okay, kids. What do you want to be when you grow up?" Aside from being an astronaut, most of us would say whatever profession our parents told us they were in. But the common denominator in our answers was the presence of success, whether it be financial or otherwise.

In college, the same thought would linger. Each of us were itching to get out of school and into our moment. We were good at envisioning ourselves, of what we would become ten years from now. Part of that vision would probably involve a house, a car, a happy marriage, a good career or a thriving business.

Then reality would set in. Nobody said it would be easy but, then again, nobody said it would be this hard. And I grow somber, depressed even, just by the lingering thought that, no matter how hard I try, I might not get to where I want to be. I might not become the vision I had for myself when I was young.

This acute awareness hurts so much.

Yet, even so, hope springs eternal. That, in itself, is a miracle.

Caroling

"Nag-caroling pud ba mo katong bata pa mo?"

Yes, we did and our childhood years were probably richer because of it. One Christmas, Mama and Papa had "adopted" Jade, a boy from Lingap Center, to stay with us for the Christmas holiday. As luck would have it, he knew how to sing and he was the one who proposed the idea that we do some caroling on Christmas eve.

Our first client was, of course, my mother. So Jade, my brothers, and I lined ourselves up outside our house and began singing. After our performance, Mama gave us some coins and some "expert advice" as she waved us off to the next house.

Our pièce de résistance was the song "Sa Araw Ng Pasko". Yet, while I struggled to sing it, mentally hacking away at the lyrics I would soon often forget, Jade was singing the song beside me with gusto. It would only dawn on me later ("later" as in "after several years") how bittersweet the song was for Jade.

We proceeded in harassing our neighbors and that night was probably the last time I would feel so exhilarated at receiving a single peso coin.

The other neighborhood kids were more business-minded though. That night, I saw Jimboy, Billy Boy, and the rest of the Alpha Connection basketball squad huddled together in Gladiola Street. I happened to eavesdrop at their conversations and were surprised at how serious they were. Each member was assigned a particular street in the neighborhood and, rather than serenade each household as a group, they were going to roam around individually. Time was of the essence and, as individuals, they would cover more ground. They also talked about quotas, with each member being given a figure based on how many houses were there in his area of responsibility.

Going back to us, we had fun. Of course, there were bad apples, "mga barat" neighbors who would ignore us even though we had sang to them all three songs in our song list (Yes, we only had three songs).

But over all, we did make some money, which made us feel all so smug as we sat there around the dinner table, waiting for the Noche Buena.

Merry Christmas, everyone.