A Eulogy of Some Sort

Mark's passing from this world came as a shocker. I never knew that someone I see almost everyday, one who I joke along with and one who cracks many jokes would be suddenly taken. His passing was of course explainable by medical diagnosis. But even up to now,I still come out of this knowledge stunned and a bit dazed.

I cannot take the idea out of my mind. It was something that disturbed me in a very profound manner. He was no close friend but I knew him that close every day that his death was really something I can't fully comprehend. I guess it was the reality of death after all. His comic collections were one's I borrowed and he shared lots about the DC and Marvel universe with me, updates on the Green Lantern Corps, Thanos, Infinite Earth Crises and so forth. These were some of the things I learned from him. His "pareho lang" philosophy of course will not only be a crack of joke among us his colleagues but his everyday punchlines with a bit of naughty innuendos on "you know who" and "you know what" will of course be cherished.

It was the reality of someone I know dying- I guess it is real after all. Most of the time we hear and see funerals for people and yet we don't bother about them that much. No commitment of concern or sympathy is asked of us. Yet when it is someone we know, then the story changes. There are some people I know who died already but Mark's passing is something unique and something numinous if I may use the word rightly. It struck me in such a way that I feared too. It may happen to me anytime, and of course given my mortality may really happen to me. The Grim Reaper is just around the corner.

I shall not forget his often tinkering with my computer in the classroom; his "pasaring" about so many things the powers that be are so driven so much to please, and his adventures with "them".

May his memory be cherished by those who knew him in life and in his death.

Peace brother!

Faith that Doesnt Count

Its way hard to divorce faith from life. Even if people say they do not believe at all, they still possess a set of pre-conceived values and notions of right and wrong. Most of the time we tend to act from our learned and internalized value systems. A kid who cheats on a test because everybody is "doing" it is acting on a principle he has acquired through bad example. The same applies to a bureacrat who preaches juctice but fails to see the economic struggles of his subordinates and invokes an idealized notion of justice, romanticizing the notion but failing to see it take shape by concrete action.

We invoke God and His name at times to flaunt our sense of spirituality and the intensity of religious favor. The motive may come from a pure desire to love Him and overcome the fear that we are fearful followers of Him; on the other hand others do not even mention His name for fear of being branded outmoded, obscurantist and bigoted.

But the rub lies between the two extreme, or we either vacillate between the two terminals of these spiritual poles. Deep in our hearts, there is a longing to follow what is good, do the right thing and yet we struggle hard because we are in most times pulled by the flesh to put ourselves above all others-its interests, its dreams and its longings. On the other hand we also wish to be at home with the world and its applause; of course we would want the approval of the audience. Perhaps the conductor is a fool for turning his back at the audience. Or is he really?

I live on a daily premise that I will do the best I can to make the day an offering to my Maker, to please my Galilean Master and to serve Him with the talents I was entrusted with. As the day progresses I vacillate, shout uncharitably and exude a loser's face. I rarely find days in whihc I felt I was able to accomplish something. I guess my employer is right, I should just encourage myself and wait it not from others.

My faith means a lot to me and I act as much as possible in light of my conscience which in turn is informed by my faith. My roots are in evangelical Christianity; I grew up in a Pentecostal church background with strong emphasis with the gifts and manifestations of the Holy Spirit.
I must admit this emotional-experiential aspect of my faith has helped neutralize my rigorous and intellectual propensities. It actually made my faith come alive. God is at work not just in the text of Scripture or theology books but in the living and vibrant feeling in my heart. I am unashamed in my declaration that this feeling informs well my mind and helps steer my vision of my role as an evangelical Christian.

I will of course admit that I am no perfect Christian as other will definitely do the same. The sad part is I haven't been in any evangelical church service for three years already. Despite the defection of many evangelicals to Catholicism, I still find it a meaningful and strong expression of orthodox Christianity. In fact I work in a setting where te one's who take charge of spiritual exercises and direction are Opus Dei people. I find their commitment and fervor quite interesting and reminds me of my own commitment years before. I should also note I still do not find contemporary Catholicism as very much compelling to sustain my faith. The reader of course should note that I was once a Catholic and still admires Catholicism's many riches. I just cannot reconcile myself to many points of doctrine which I think will spell out a different worldview and practice if ever I choose to convert. Yes I have heard and read of Scott Hahn, "Surprised by Truth" and Cardinal Newman.

Where I am right now may not be ideal (a state of lukewarmness) but I find it unthinkable to go back to being Catholic. I have many friends who are Catholics and I find their commitment to their community astounding.

Everyday I am reminded of God through my students, fellow teachers, and the world as I see it now. I am deeply engaged in an attempt to see the world and find my niche in it as God's agent of change and instrument of glory. More and more everyday I am humbled to learn lessons about life through the world I live in and that is why I will not set myself away from it the way I was erroneously taught in my fundamebtalist faith.

The Forefront of Despair

Where do you go when you think its the end of the line? What if everything you have always wanted just doesn't seem to be what you are having right now in your life?

An endless shot of questions will of course not lessen the depth of anguish they bear nor solve all the pains in the world. It will never be enough. All the negative side of our race has spawned more despair and utter loneliness.

We sought answers at the wrong places, built monuments to honor people who embody what we crave to become and yet fail to lift a finger to follow the ideals they taught and we have complicated our lives far beyond what our forebears have prophesied.

I am sure anyone reading this will simply dismiss this as a protracted anger at the system, a venting of angsts at the world. He maybe right. This is it. No answers have yet been given, enough to satisfy the darkness of the soul. So I wait in vain for replies.....

Remains of the Day

In a brilliantly written work, Kazuo Ishiguro writes about the blandness and the vigor in an English butler's life. Through intricate and superbly inner reflection as if the author himself was the main protagonist, Remains of the Day captures the seemingly quiet and persistent manifestations of one man's commitment to his role as the caretaker of Darlington Hall, an English manor whose ownership was transferred to an American gentleman.

In the book as well as the movie, Mr. Stevens eponymously define what makes up the English butler. Despite his stern passion for his tasks he manages to live through life untouched by the calls of the heart. This Englishman indeed has sustained the proverbialEnglish stiff upper lip- a sort of a Clint Eastwood unperturbability over the blows of life's tragedies and joys.

Not that Stevens is a man of no feelings but what he succesfully portrays in behalf of many who have chosen a life call that seems boring for some and unquestionably repetitive is that he has allowed himself to be lost in the limiting nature of what his task is- a butler. For many who commit themselves to tasks that seem to have taken over their persona, Remains of the Day is a somewhat foreboding reminder of what may turn some of us into such character- stiff, unaffected and compulsive.

It made me think of where I am now, of how I shall spend the rest of my future, of how my path shall be. I am left struck by the depth of Ishiguro's successful vignette of life's seemingly microcosmic offers for those who have chosen to clam themselves up. I guess I am one of them, a gigantic soul who is so folded and defended that no external force will bring me to the limiting bonds of intimate relationships. Fear, insecurity, inadequacy and the like may serve as excellent and yet pathetic excuses for my unwillingness to engage in the fullness tha life offers. I cringe inside the carapace of my own failures, and hide behing the success I wish the world see me-compassion, openness, intelligence and interpersonal virtuosity.

But I am no such thing. Like Stevens I am scared to be seen in the nakedness of my soul and i rationalize with my tasks and filial obligations in order not be be disturbed by the noise and chaos of the world.

I always ask myself at the end of each day What truly is left of the remains of the day.

Remember the Forgotten Ones

"Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity, and so we ask ourselves, will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we're gone? And wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?"- These are the strikingly poignant lines of the movie Troy.

I have always wondered at how far the concept of immortality will have its grip in the minds and hearts of this noble and belligerent race. It is perhaps best expressed in the silent angst of many souls of this generation. It seems that there are always a handful of lost souls, kindred spirits, or a bunch of counter-cultural yuppies who will always be at the heels of every existing fad or shifting trend.

The real question is "why do i seek it?". Why despite all the error of my ways, and the endless pursuit of trifling concerns do i always make an attempt to push it down, flush it in the numbness of work and superficial friendships? Why alwasy hide behind a hermeneutic of suspicion on every authority and seek to establish a sense of freedom, albeit fleeting and spectral in substance?

Perhaps fear drives me, or yet even sadness unexpressed in the chinks of everyday tasks and roles I must fulfill? A I so scared of being forgotten? Do I seek personal immortality?

Parting Words

They will wait for the horizon's coming
Sails of ships from distant lands;
Awaiting heralds of good fortune;
But alas they hear nothing but tales of woe.

They beat their plows with whips;
The sweat on the brow is cold,
Amid the anguish of their hearts
It shall come late in the night.

The weight of sorrow has numbed their souls
In despair they find words for poetry,
Yet hope lights amid the sweet parting of company
That an ode of meeting shall be sung.

Unfledge your sails young sailors,
Taste the wine dark sea's unholy mist.
Be strong youth in your heart and stand fast,
For the hope of your heart shall come.

No more shall you hear the dirge for the dead
Nor weepings and gnashings of anger shall abide in you.
The unknown angst of your heart shall depart,
And find your King to free you soon.

In your mind, banish all doubt and trust Him,
His coming shall be glorious and holy,
Put to rest all fears and cease not from singing
The songs of the olden days you knew.

All your tears shall be wiped away,
Your arm shall be strengthened,
Look to the East and His coming is certain,
For the Prince will come and bear you away!

His just and fair ways you shall know,
In your heart, doubt shall not find a niche,
But when the Days have come and ushered in.
Rejoice sons of Eru, you shall be restored!

Of Comics and Hollywood

The past years have seen a proliferation of many Marvel heroes in the big screen: X-Men, Spiderman, The Hulk, Daredevil, The Punisher, and most recently Electra. It seems that Hollywood has been riding the bandwagon of comic book to mvie production. One can also observe that these films came out after/ along side many action based movies : Braveheart, Lord of the Rings trilogy, Troy and Alexander.

Not only has it raked so much profit for the silver screen , but Hollywood has helped bring in to the full visual the action figures many once young boys now turned grown ups admired. It is very fortunate indeed for the younger generation to see these heroes on screen while their older kuyas cannot help but appreciate the effort producers have done to animate these figments of our childhood imaginations and aspirations.

What is it indeed with this penchant for comic book characters and their sagas? Why do some (if not most) teen agers collect and religiously spend their cash on comic books? why are boys hooked into reading these fantastic tales of action and power infested unique individuals? What is so interesting about these characters that perhaps their artists and story writer spin one story after another and perpetuate their plots and actions?
One of the reasons perhaps is what most psychologists coin as "hero worship". Many, if not all, acknowledge the fact that some would unconsciously seek a role model. We all need to look up to someone whom we seek to emulate. In a world filled with confusion, instability and a variety of influences people seek models in whom resides qualities and traits we wish to possess. This illusory attempt to connect with what we think as admirable traits is a natural human proclivity.

Our readings of Peter Parker's adolescent angst, Electra Nachos' attempt to redeem her past, Batman's quest to fill in the parent vacuum in him, and every plot line revealed in every comic book is somehow a way of mirroring our deepest desires to become whole and fully functioning beings. The superhuman abilities or nearly perfected skills these heroes possess are projections of wishes to transcend our weaknesses as humans.
Aside from psychological roots, part of the human penchant for colorful comic books is a love for fascinating stories. The colorful and fancy costumes speak to the textually bored reader. The visual imagery adds light to the reader who is nearly impossible to encourage to read text based pages.

Comic books became part of our culture. They have helped popularized urban myths of heroism and the exciting engagement of kids to reading. While there is also a wide window of opportunity for self enrichment through literacy for readers in the traditionally based mediums, comic books are the simple kid's tool for cuddling quietly in one's room, an escapr from the harsh realities of a child's life, or simply a reason to engage the mind and iimagination with a worthwhile activity.

There is an episode in the first season of Smallville in which a boy seeks to find solace in reading comic books from his otherwise oppressive and abusive step parents. The boy (Ryan) accidentally met the Kents and befriended them. He looked up to Clark as an older brother and the Kents as like a new family. There is a part in the story where Ryan gives up his comic books to Clark because he said he already has a role model for a hero: Clark (who is of course Superman). Ryan's liking for comics speaks of some boys attempt to look for older heroes in their lives. So it is safe to say, that comic books are boys business: the art, the penchant, the action packed hero-saves-the-girl plot redundant as it may seem is a voice of longing. It is a voice that says " I want to do that thing, I want to help, I want to be involved for something that will help others."

We are grateful that Hollywood has allowed this wonderful ink to screen translation of comic book characters. So far, we can no longer bash that industry for simply producing movies that offer only swearings and sex and meaningless violence. Someday perhaps Justice will really be for all, for kids and adults alike.

A Potpourri of Broodings

No amount of brooding will describe what life is in its entirety. Sometimes people like me will sit down, face a blinking computer screen and think of some desperate thought to put order in what one sees. Everyday is an opportunity that presents itself. Although the same everyday mentioned will be perceived as a monotonous flow of hours and seasons, one should at least look at it squarely. I guess it’s not really the lack of better words, but it’s the ever present now. At times I can be in a different sort of place like beside our window and look out into the vast expanse of the world. I sometimes see dreams and visions, and right at the same spot I could think of noble thoughts and wonderful things to write about, but when I put myself in such a place like this, one so artificial and so mindless I lose those thoughts and seem to forget what they were.

Language provides us with that still and limited frame to realize what our thoughts have been brooding about. Not that all brooding is bad, but it’s what people perceive as the depressing aspect of thinking and brooding, of suicide and themes of loneliness and isolation. Our world as I see it is filled with wonder, the world made by civilized man, and the world of nature, pure unadulterated and unravished beauty. But it is also different-in the sense that man has somehow feel estranged at its sense of being so repulsive.

How can we be so alienated by this sense of familiarity? We grew up in an age so digitally connected that we earn a brand of archaism if we fail to live up to the fast paced demands of technological conformity. Every single being is somehow compelled by a ferocious media advertisement to purchase and thus be globally connected. From titanium cell phones to palm pilots to lap tops, gadgetry has never known so much variety. Add to that the psychology of asking the populace to have their personal needs met by this revolution.

Not that technology has been a source of all this evil, it is not! Let me clear it up. Erich Fromm and other thinkers have spoken against the depersonalization of the human race. We seem to be possessed by this mania, swept into this amusing bandwidths of images and sound bytes, losing altogether the “ancient” values of individual interface with flesh and blood relatives, the crumbling of ancient values. Technology seems to increase our frustration and impatience level. And there seem to be a relentless pursuit of the novel brands coming out almost every other week in the market. I know some people who seem to be in this train. Well, they must be pretty affluent to do it, or pretty restless with their new ones. I guess it’s because the one they have don’t after all meet their needs, and when they find one that seems to meet what they want, they are again in the pursuit of acquiring some more.

What occupies my mind at the moment is the futility of it all, the ever increasing numb feeling of emptiness and endless non-sense. Such phenomenon forces a person to lose himself and obey the fads of a capitalistic society. The poor grow poorer and eagerly desire the rich man’s comforts. The pauper is usually caught up in the same passion as the rich man. He seems to be mesmerized by the glittering trappings of the rich man, hi ever ensuing desire to renounce his poverty and pursue the so-called good life. It is universally known that for such to become a reality the pauper must work hard, get an education, and afterwards pursue a trade through which he gains financial compensation.

Perhaps it’s the unwritten rule in life that every soul longs to find happiness and the common man wants to do it by patterning his lifestyle after the rich man.

To find one’s niche in life, we have to pursue what we truly desire and desire was given to us to empower us. But the problem is what we desire sometimes doesn’t necessarily bring us the food for our table. When a man settles down as a writer, he can’t provide for every whim and caprice of his offspring or cruelly sometimes he couldn’t provide for the basic necessities. The wife then has to join him in the hunt and as such should share in major decision-making. When we reach this point we see man as caught up in the role of a father. What about his eagerness to be an author, a philosopher, or even a painter? Well that depends on the society he has found himself in. Sometimes his role is prized or occasionally dismissed (as in the philosopher’s case) as irrelevant and impractical.

What makes us happy? We might as become like hobbits in our search for it. Making life simple and plain. Laugh aloud, cry sometimes and work to break our backs. Happiness as one ice cream advertisement says “comes from the heart”. Of course we would prefer it were that easy. As humans we are strongly conditioned by our society’s situations including our penchant for what makes us happy. As early as childhood, we have adopted habits and manners that makes us preferably at ease and pleasure with some things. One man’s burden maybe another’s joy. A corporate banker may love to work in corporate settings but a carpenter would find his joy in the shop. A poet may have his heart with words while a baker is in love with satisfying his gustatory pleasures. Thus to each his own.

In this vast expanse of over-arching desires and ambitions, man finds himself living in a world that is so big. Therefore, he must look for himself lest he gets lost in this jungle of complexities. There is no choice but to make a choice: abandoning oneself to indecision is a decision itself albeit not a volitional one. If man doesn’t make that conscious choice he becomes a mere tool in the grand machinery of things…an insect in a universe of meaninglessness. Even though a vast amount of literature has been written already on the subject of angst and search for meaning, man has a continuing need to find inspiration in how he lives his life and as to what meaning he attaches to it. Themes of purpose, hope and divine destiny are profusely discernible in personal literatures. By personal I mean those that are written from a diary entry-like perspective, like this one. There seems to be a rich deposit of hope in the human spirit. A constant refusal to the acknowledgment of the hopelessness of it all seems unworthy of human dignity. Its just ineptly absent in the human core. The enormity nor the apparent impossibility of a situation should not overwhelm man, it should never devour him totally.

When I think about things like this, I recall Auschwitz and the killing fields of Cambodia. How has Man survived such deprave altars of human brutality? How is it that in the most inhumane situations, there is a refusal to surrender? On a superficial analysis, one could simply attribute these men’s survival to their devotedness to their faith, or their dignity but is it? Or is there something more? When Adolf Eichmann was set to trial in Jerusalem for his war crimes, Hannah Arendt documented the proceedings. She observed that through the constant conditioning of man to evil and savage philosophies, he emerges with a sense of banality towards evil. Eleonore Stump, an American philosopher, also observed that this “mirror of evil” makes us repulse from within and look at it on a deeper perspective. Ravi Zacharias, a contemporary thinker has narrated in an anecdote why this is so. He relates a question raised by a man so disturbed by the presence of evil in the world that he decides to abandon his faith in God. But if the person is so affected, so goes Zacharias, why isn’t he disturbed by the evil within? Stirring and quite sharp. He makes excellent sense. We, humans, complain against God about injustices and blame Him on how He runs the universe. The recent comic movie “Bruce Almighty” hilariously captures this enigma. Whenever we ask for some inconsistency about how things are happening in our lives ( issues of fairness, just compensation, problems that we can’t bear, etc.), we end up asking God that we could have known better.
While of course we cannot help but ask, out of the stricken conditions of our lives, we end up saying the wrong thing. We are looking for answers and in this search for answers we raise issues that have profound philosophical meaning. We want practicality to rule our lives, we wish for relevance and a consistent flow of things as we want them to be.
What do we want? We want lots of things-freedom form sickness, pain, guilt and we want justice to happen to every one. On the other hand such soul-searching attempts to ground ourselves amidst the meaninglessness of our days, we often find ourselves amused by society. Filipinos have a very good sense of humor and at most times we use humor to lessen the pain of our day to day experiences. We hate those in power, rant at the high taxes the government take from our pay slips and hear news of millions of pesos taken by corrupt solons and public servants. This daily dosage of cynicism and skepticism about how things are happening often times drive us to lose hope in our fellow men. To simplify things, all we want is a fair life filled with basic needs. We wish to laugh aloud with friends, enjoy the fruits of our labor and use our times the way we want it. Though often times we are frustrated by the realities of it all. That this country will never have a fair share of equity and progress. No wonder hosts of Filipinos have opted to go abroad where the grass is greener and where corruption (though never totally eradicated) is minimal and the basic need of every man is met.

Acting Like Men

What does it take to be a Man? Answers to this question have been given by disciplines like psychology, sociology, biology, philosophy, theology and even pop culture. Answers vary from one "expert" to another, giving a multiplicity of images and definitions.

Perhaps the most obvious is what is provided for by pop culture. The media with its images of men as strong, assertive, immobile to emotional turbulence, sports minded and logical are being redefined lately because of the resurgence of feminist movements. Usually these notions of manhood are being fed to the masses through purveyors of masculine values and identities. Those in turn who promote such ideas draw their concepts from life experiences and values that view men from the "classical" Western notions of man as provider, protector and procreator. Aside from these limited conceptions, men are viewed as assertive, driven and logically wired persons.

On the bad side, men are perceived by liberationist thinkers as oppressors of women, philanderers who can't hold their horses, and insecure that they find their masculinities given shape by alcohol, smoking and vices. While there is partial truth in such type cast images of abusive samples of Adam's sons, there are also attempts to thrash out this constricted view of what is a Man.

In reaction to feminist movements, men's groups sprouted in the States to redeem the fallen status of masculine identities. While not totally abandoning the traditional roles assigned to men, today's pop psychologists and their researchers are looking at "masculinities" in terms of adding up new roles, training men to get in touch with their "feminine" nurturing side. Some no longer view issues that bring about intimacy in men's circles as a threat to one's strong image but as part of one being a person.

A friend of mine, one of the wounded sons (like me) I know, spoke of a very apt dictum about manhood: One can be born male, but it takes courage to become a man. How true! Biology provides us with the equipment of being male, and the idea of being a man is a socially constructed concept. Our ideas of what it takes to be a man may come from varied sources, yet we need to evaluate them if they are truthful and in correspondence with what is.

A constipated understanding of one's role will of course produce limited and constipated perceptions of identities. Why limit your self to vaguely defined roles? why subscribe to an idea that maybe a bit archaic or sweeping? Men aren't always from Mars nor are they confined to Venus. Manhood is a task and a role that is a gift at the same time (in the same manner that womanhood and its roles is also a gift and a task to be fulfilled with joy). Perhaps we can affirm our traditional perceptions of it while at the same time doing away with the negatives brought about by the abuse done in the past or the failings they have engendered.

Being a man consists of toughness, courage, strength, wisdom and integrity. It maybe true that there are wrong role models around, but there are plenty of good ones also. Absence of excellent examples in one's immediate environment do not necessarily mean there are none around. While character formation and a mature mascuine identity is forged in such matrix of relationship (through bonding, interaction and mentoring), one cannot also ignore past excellent examples; hey maybe imperfect and yet they have served their best to act it tough and become our fathers, brothers, friends, teachers, masters, etc.

Lord of the Rings Tribute

This maybe a bit late or out of time. But I guess in my case I think I still need to give my toast to an author I really admire so much. One who has been widely read cannot ignore the fact that J.R.R. Tolkien is one of the few literary geniuses of our time. His prodigy comes from a variety of angles: his vision, his universe, his insight into the deeply spiritual aspect of our times and his passion for the genre he helped to popularize.

Tolkien created a literary universe filled with eponymous names and archetypal characters. These literary figments have been taken from his visions of a moral and deeply spiritual cosmos. I have in mind of course his Lord of the Rings and their affiliate literary books:The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, Lays of Beleriand, Shaping of Middle Earth, Lost Tales, Unfinished Tales, etc.
When one takes the time to read through all these works, one cannot ignore the vast and deep insight Tolkien has of human nature and its implications as it is lived through the modern eyes.
Tolkien not only translates this vision but he admirably weaves a wonderful tale that no willing listener by the fireplace wouldn't ignore. A parallel world set in a different place and time with preternatural beings endowed with certain fantastic traits fill his pages. Here, he engages his readers with a creative plot to present a moral universe filled with decisions to be made by larger than life characters.

The mystical and the magical fuse in Tolkien's literary fabric as he presents the reality and corrupting power of evil (Gollum, Sauron, Feanor, Bilbo), the decisions every perosn must make and its consequences ( Galadriel, sons of Feanor, Thingol, Frodo, Aragorn), the mythological backdraft in which he sets these tales (Middlearth, Valinor, Beleriand) in order to cast a magical element and a sense of remoteness of the storyline and his commitment to fully realize his themes through creating languages, geography and culture in his imaginary universe.

I have seriously followed his lead, dropped his books only when necessary (like going to work, darn!) and tried to understand his focus. Tolkien really rules! While indeed he makes use of an English that is a bit not akin to the language spoken by my age and even the young ones I encourage to read, it is indeed a rewarding task once one takes this attempt to join the adventure with him. Tolkien is a great read. I wish children these days would grab a copy of him and pore through the pages of this Englishman. He is a master storyteller and at the same time a moral visionary fit for the electronically plugged generation of this age.

Let Go

We always cleave to something-people, things, places, memories etc. The act of cleaving is part of the vital stability of the universe; forces like cohesion, electromagnetism, weak force, gravity and human bonds all point to the fact that it is a natural thing.

In the sphere of human relationships, we must cleave at times and let go at others. We can't forever (as kids) cry at a favorite puppy who died. We can't keep on dwelling on past amours and crushes; we can't live in a fantasy world of our own making.

Yet despite all these, humans cleave on to memories-good ones and bad ones; they seem to stick to our consciousness like glue. They seem to be us, they form part of us and yet they were not really US. Pain and suffering seem also hard to let go for some, joys immeasurable and fond memories of childhood still remain for some. They are almost forgotten treasuries of great things, found somewhere in that bend around the corner.

William Wordsworth, an English Romantic poet carefully expressed this sentiment in his poem on "Intimations". He spoke of his childhood as some sort of a past yet accessible to the present.
While it is true that "the child is father of the man", the man can also be the father of the child. He can be the guide to his own past; he can look back at it and consider those happy days. He cannot forever stare at the image in the spring and constantly ponder on it.

He must look forward and let go of the past. It may be hard, but it must be done. The man is still father of that child inside him. He can always tell himself that the pains of childhood or its glorious moments of fun and laughter can be seen side by side with the man he has now become.

Tsunami Terrors

Incidents like what happened in South Asia make us reflect on how such disaster could occur.
Philosophers, theologians, critics and others ask why questions, while philanthropists and socially inclined civilians enter the fray with missionary zeal to help.

What makes us look for answers and what makes us feel for incidents like this are indeed questions whose answers go deep in human nature. Why do we care in the first place? Why do we feel a sense of injustice? Where does this foreboding come from?

The answers to those concerns rise out of our selves as persons. We maybe terrified by natural catastrophes, horrified perhaps at the horror; and yet we also hope and pray, and crave and long for wholeness amidst destruction, we love amidst tragedy, we seek to heal amidst pain and we laugh at all the mirth life has to offer.

We are human beings and an intrinsic part of that is the ability to feel and think above such vicissitudes.