When you lost your voice, I lost mine, too.
I couldn't say to you how much I loved you,
Even though I knew you would be leaving me shortly.
Unable to span those years of broken communication,
Of love twisted into anger and fear,
Brittle and fragile, weighing down my heart.
When you left, my unexpressed words turned inward,
Sucked into a void wintry, dense and abyssal,
A black hole of regret, making me sick, body and soul.
When I entered the darkness today,
You whispered to me that you heard me,
Every day, in all the ways,
I sought to express how I felt
As I wiped your face with Veronica's hands,
And washed your feet as our Servant Lord did.
Every act of love became a benediction,
An "I love you" wrapped in secret sorrow.
You listened, you understood and you knew.
While the truth shines a light that reconciles my being
It doesn't change the fact that I still mourn your leaving.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Juvenile aspirations
I have been free falling into despair and desolation over these last few weeks. I even lost my voice without realizing it.
Life's full of peaks and valleys right, so deal with it.
After a cursory attempt at dealing with the fallout, I declared myself sufficiently healed and suppressed my hurts by largely ignoring how I felt, emotionally and physically, to soldier on with life.
It was only this weekend that I realized I was still among the walking wounded with visible injuries to the discerning eye.
Ever impatient, I had deemed my intellectual insights sufficient remedy to the situation, only to realize that I needed to give myself the time and space to enter the darkness and sit with the pain.
To acknowledge the presence of my anger and bitterness, and grieve the event that led to it were necessary yet skipped-over actions of my healing process. Thanks E., for forcing me to sit in stillness and work on it.
That I had stopped journalling and made feeble perfunctory efforts at prayer should've tipped me off. Hubris and denial, however, prevented me from making the connection.
Here is where I thank the Lord who knew exactly what I needed and had arranged for it way in advance - thank goodness that God is out of time and does not operate in a linear fashion.
Thus it was that I saw E. early Saturday morning, who called me on it, and went on to attend a weekend retreat run by the Intercessors of the Lamb* at the Catholic Spirituality Centre called the Power of Intercession.
Here I have to thank J. for inviting me to the retreat ages ago.
The I. of the L. are "dedicated to the contemplative formation of all Christians for the powerful ministry of intercession" and I received much in terms of new insights as well as ample opportunity to practise contemplation.
To be still and listen.
Today I participated in an abbreviated "tres horas" meditation which walked us through the Passion of Jesus Christ and brought me smack into the Third Week of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises which we have been covering in Landmarks (have I mentioned how awed I am by God's impeccable sense of timing?).
It was a much needed draught of living water: to unite with Christ's suffering and death on the cross. Die to self in redemptive agony in order to resurrect, move on freely and grow.
There's much more I would like to share on the weekend but my main takeaway is to pray constantly. Like a child.
A child who is completely reliant on her father and trusts wholly in his love.
A child who lays her head on her loving father's chest and is stilled into calmness by the sound of his reassuring heartbeat.
Simple, but not so easy for me to accomplish. So, Abba, please show me how? I want to learn.
* To find out more about I. of the L. go to http://www.bellwetheromaha.org/
Life's full of peaks and valleys right, so deal with it.
After a cursory attempt at dealing with the fallout, I declared myself sufficiently healed and suppressed my hurts by largely ignoring how I felt, emotionally and physically, to soldier on with life.
It was only this weekend that I realized I was still among the walking wounded with visible injuries to the discerning eye.
Ever impatient, I had deemed my intellectual insights sufficient remedy to the situation, only to realize that I needed to give myself the time and space to enter the darkness and sit with the pain.
To acknowledge the presence of my anger and bitterness, and grieve the event that led to it were necessary yet skipped-over actions of my healing process. Thanks E., for forcing me to sit in stillness and work on it.
That I had stopped journalling and made feeble perfunctory efforts at prayer should've tipped me off. Hubris and denial, however, prevented me from making the connection.
Here is where I thank the Lord who knew exactly what I needed and had arranged for it way in advance - thank goodness that God is out of time and does not operate in a linear fashion.
Thus it was that I saw E. early Saturday morning, who called me on it, and went on to attend a weekend retreat run by the Intercessors of the Lamb* at the Catholic Spirituality Centre called the Power of Intercession.
Here I have to thank J. for inviting me to the retreat ages ago.
The I. of the L. are "dedicated to the contemplative formation of all Christians for the powerful ministry of intercession" and I received much in terms of new insights as well as ample opportunity to practise contemplation.
To be still and listen.
Today I participated in an abbreviated "tres horas" meditation which walked us through the Passion of Jesus Christ and brought me smack into the Third Week of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises which we have been covering in Landmarks (have I mentioned how awed I am by God's impeccable sense of timing?).
It was a much needed draught of living water: to unite with Christ's suffering and death on the cross. Die to self in redemptive agony in order to resurrect, move on freely and grow.
There's much more I would like to share on the weekend but my main takeaway is to pray constantly. Like a child.
A child who is completely reliant on her father and trusts wholly in his love.
A child who lays her head on her loving father's chest and is stilled into calmness by the sound of his reassuring heartbeat.
Simple, but not so easy for me to accomplish. So, Abba, please show me how? I want to learn.
* To find out more about I. of the L. go to http://www.bellwetheromaha.org/
Sunday, October 11, 2009
St. Damien of Molokai
Today Fr. Damien of Molokai was canonized, making him a saint. I so wanted to be in Hawaii to celebrate the occasion (anything to be in 'Ha-va-ii') but it proved to be just a dream.
I think I will have to convince my college buds to plan for our next reunion to be in Molokai, seeing as it's one island I have not visited. Then I can visit where Fr. Damien lived and died.
If you google Fr. Damien, you will find that there was controversy surrounding Fr. Damien for he was probably not everyone's idea of a priest.
"A coarse, dirty man, head-strong and bigoted," is a written description of Fr. Damien in a letter by a Presbyterian pastor.
It would indeed take a man of strong character to decide to live permanently among lepers and bring order and a semblance of society to a place over-run by lawlessness and despair.
"A saint is one who doesn't put themselves at the center, but rather chooses to go against the grain and live according to the Gospel," said Pope Benedict XVI at the canonization mass of Fr. Damien and four other saints.
Fr. Damien began his ministry of embracing and serving lepers of Molokai in 1873 and remained there until his death in 1889 after having contracted leprosy in the preceding four years on the island.
He not only gave the people hope, but forged a community while taking care of the practicalities of life: tending the sick, building houses and digging graves.
He also worked tirelessly to ensure this outcast community was not forgotten by mainstream society.
Pope Benedict XVI remarked of St. Damien: "Not without fear and repugnance, he chose to go to the Island of Molokai to serve the lepers who were there, abandoned by all; thus he exposed himself to the disease they suffered from. He felt at home with them."
"The Servant of the Word thus became a suffering servant, a leper with lepers, during the last four years of his life."
"We recall, faced with this noble figure, that charity makes unity," Benedict XVI continued. "It gives birth to it and makes it desirable. In following St. Paul, St. Damien leads us to choose the good battle, not those that lead to division, but those that gather together.
"He invites us to open our eyes to the lepers that disfigure the humanity of our brothers and today still calls, more than for our generosity, for the charity of our serving presence."*
It is real people like St. Damien who inspire us to live as better people. As Pope John Paul II said during the beatification homily of Fr. Damien in 1995:
"Holiness is not perfection according to human criteria; it is not reserved for a small number of exceptional persons. It is for everyone; it is the Lord who brings us to holiness, when we are willing to collaborate in the salvation of the world for the glory of God, despite our sin and our sometimes rebellious temperament."**
St. Damien, help us be holy as you were, and bring comfort to many.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Twilight beautiful
I finally caught one of my must-see movies “The Twilight Samurai”, Tasogare Seibei, on the flight back from Melbourne and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Here is a man whose life was marked by misfortune, he was looked down on by many, and yet, he lived life with dignity and integrity, earning the deep love and respect of the women in his life.
Seibei, the protagonist in the film, is a low-ranking samurai married to a woman from a wealthier class who is unused to the humble lifestyle and falls prey to tuberculosis to eventually die, leaving him with two young daughters.
Financially crippled by both the medical and high funeral expenses due to the grand send-off her family insists on, Seibei struggles to support his two daughters and senile mother.
Although poor, he is not unhappy and takes pleasure in watching his young daughters grow up.
Seibei has no time for social networking and is mocked by his fellow samurai for his unkempt appearance and his inability to move up in the world. He is nicknamed Twilight for he is perceived as the classic loser in life.
What most don’t realize is that Seibei does not aspire to get ahead as a samurai and he is content with living peacefully with his family.
His fighting prowess is brought to light when he protects a former childhood playmate Tomoe from her abusive ex-husband and wins the duel with a wooden stick.
As a result, Seibei is asked to “execute” a recalcitrant samurai, an assignment he agrees to most reluctantly, but one with financial gain that finally allows him to hope for marriage with Tomoe whom he has secretly loved since childhood, and who is, likewise, attracted to him.
Seibei marries Tomoe but after only three years of blissful marriage, he dies in battle. Although most mock him as unfortunate and pathetic, his daughter Ito knows better.
She knows her father remained true to himself, parlaying adversity into contentment as a peace-loving individual, a wonderfully nurturing father and a caring husband.
Watching the movie brought home to me that whilst it is never easy marching to the beat of a different drummer as the world sometimes looks on scornfully and laughs, it can be self-fulfilling and rich.
Even when circumstances conspire to bring suffering and loss of control into life, one can remain unbowed, making the best of a bum situation. Even finding joy.
And there is nothing tragic about such a life, brief though it may be, for what matters is what we infuse our time on earth with, making each second, every person we meet, every act of love count so that no matter when we make an exit from life, we will have been like a dazzling fireworks display: beautiful and having brought much pleasure to the many who witnessed it, changing their lives imperceptibly, but irrevocably, for beauty always leaves its mark on the soul.
So don’t wait to live the best life you possibly can, do it today.
Here is a man whose life was marked by misfortune, he was looked down on by many, and yet, he lived life with dignity and integrity, earning the deep love and respect of the women in his life.
Seibei, the protagonist in the film, is a low-ranking samurai married to a woman from a wealthier class who is unused to the humble lifestyle and falls prey to tuberculosis to eventually die, leaving him with two young daughters.
Financially crippled by both the medical and high funeral expenses due to the grand send-off her family insists on, Seibei struggles to support his two daughters and senile mother.
Although poor, he is not unhappy and takes pleasure in watching his young daughters grow up.
Seibei has no time for social networking and is mocked by his fellow samurai for his unkempt appearance and his inability to move up in the world. He is nicknamed Twilight for he is perceived as the classic loser in life.
What most don’t realize is that Seibei does not aspire to get ahead as a samurai and he is content with living peacefully with his family.
His fighting prowess is brought to light when he protects a former childhood playmate Tomoe from her abusive ex-husband and wins the duel with a wooden stick.
As a result, Seibei is asked to “execute” a recalcitrant samurai, an assignment he agrees to most reluctantly, but one with financial gain that finally allows him to hope for marriage with Tomoe whom he has secretly loved since childhood, and who is, likewise, attracted to him.
Seibei marries Tomoe but after only three years of blissful marriage, he dies in battle. Although most mock him as unfortunate and pathetic, his daughter Ito knows better.
She knows her father remained true to himself, parlaying adversity into contentment as a peace-loving individual, a wonderfully nurturing father and a caring husband.
Watching the movie brought home to me that whilst it is never easy marching to the beat of a different drummer as the world sometimes looks on scornfully and laughs, it can be self-fulfilling and rich.
Even when circumstances conspire to bring suffering and loss of control into life, one can remain unbowed, making the best of a bum situation. Even finding joy.
And there is nothing tragic about such a life, brief though it may be, for what matters is what we infuse our time on earth with, making each second, every person we meet, every act of love count so that no matter when we make an exit from life, we will have been like a dazzling fireworks display: beautiful and having brought much pleasure to the many who witnessed it, changing their lives imperceptibly, but irrevocably, for beauty always leaves its mark on the soul.
So don’t wait to live the best life you possibly can, do it today.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Gifted response
I don't know why, but it seems that every time I go on vacation, some calamity, natural or human-induced, happens.
This time it's floods in Philippines, earthquakes in Padang and tsunami in Samoa, a triple whammy no less.
I am always relieved to first find out that people I love, living in those affected locations, are safe, then I start to feel guilty that I am enjoying myself, unaffected by the devastation wrought, as others lay dead, dying or suffering.
Can I make a difference in my comfortably cocooned world so far removed from the chaos I read about in newspapers and see on TV?
I feel useless and ineffectual even if I donate money to help out in those areas. It is never enough, is it?
Even prayer seems meaningless. Do my prayers truly make a difference?
Perhaps I will never be able to tell, but ultimately I do believe prayer works for in itself, it is a response to a situation, a conscious action I take that will open me up to further action.
Prayer leads me to mourning human loss, hoping for those who survived and trying to see how best I can lend a helping hand in order to cast light into the darkness.
Prayer is a call to action.
That no matter where I am, I can make a difference (even a small one) just as different parts of the body must work together to achieve change and progress.
In contemplation, perspective is revealed. I am thus able to appreciate what I have already been given, and reminded that my gifts must be shared in order to be true gifts.
For what use are my talents if they lie dormant and unused? What use are the blessings I receive if I do not, in turn, bless others? They will wither on the vine, waiting to be stripped off and cast into the fire.
It is my hope that upon reading this, you will stop to think how best you can answer the question: "What have you done today to better the world?" and come up with a creative, meaningful and gifted response to recent events, both at large and close to home.
This time it's floods in Philippines, earthquakes in Padang and tsunami in Samoa, a triple whammy no less.
I am always relieved to first find out that people I love, living in those affected locations, are safe, then I start to feel guilty that I am enjoying myself, unaffected by the devastation wrought, as others lay dead, dying or suffering.
Can I make a difference in my comfortably cocooned world so far removed from the chaos I read about in newspapers and see on TV?
I feel useless and ineffectual even if I donate money to help out in those areas. It is never enough, is it?
Even prayer seems meaningless. Do my prayers truly make a difference?
Perhaps I will never be able to tell, but ultimately I do believe prayer works for in itself, it is a response to a situation, a conscious action I take that will open me up to further action.
Prayer leads me to mourning human loss, hoping for those who survived and trying to see how best I can lend a helping hand in order to cast light into the darkness.
Prayer is a call to action.
That no matter where I am, I can make a difference (even a small one) just as different parts of the body must work together to achieve change and progress.
In contemplation, perspective is revealed. I am thus able to appreciate what I have already been given, and reminded that my gifts must be shared in order to be true gifts.
For what use are my talents if they lie dormant and unused? What use are the blessings I receive if I do not, in turn, bless others? They will wither on the vine, waiting to be stripped off and cast into the fire.
It is my hope that upon reading this, you will stop to think how best you can answer the question: "What have you done today to better the world?" and come up with a creative, meaningful and gifted response to recent events, both at large and close to home.
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