The Wonder of Choice

Even now I am continually amazed at the complexity of being myself. The self is an almost infinite measure of possibilities bounded by sharp-cut and distinct limitations. I say these because I can experience a very wide range of emotions but will have to only choose one option among many on how to act as myself. Sure, I can act this way or that way, and I may have strong tendencies towards a particular behavior, but even the immense potency or the natural tendencies will have to give way to one simple choice.

Choice is what makes man. All of us are formed from a rich background, either good or bad, along with its multidimensional influence and mark on the self which has undergone the variables in life and lived through it, and in a way was formed through it. All of us are facing a future with its rich promises, either good or bad, which depends not only on one choice but along many others, directly or indirectly, each future dependent upon the many variables today, altogether drawing trying to draw the will. Past or future, rich as they are in possibilities long lost or have yet to come, must pass through one choice which we must make now.

I remember one philosopher, though I cannot remember his name, say that the striking paradox of human reality is that freedom is enslaved to choice. We all are bound to choose and the choices that we make define who we are. And who we are is not final until the final choice has been made and no choice can be made after. We are dynamic beings who continually remake ourselves with every choice whose final state is not defined by the final choice alone. Who we are at the end I believe, is defined by the sum of the choices that we have made all throughout our existence plus the value of all those choices seen together.

So in failure, I cannot just stop for when I have failed I can always bounce back at living again. And in success I cannot be contented for such pleasures are only for that moment and will fade through time. The power of choosing is perfected through an active, conscious, and positive exercise. We are not yet done, but we are beings.

Invisible Wounds

The boys that I work with in Don Bosco Boys Home are not the regular type of boys. Most of them come from dysfunctional families and even some have nothing to call a family. The experiences that I hear from them dwarf the little hassles that I went through growing up. Call it strange, I admire the courage the boys possess in facing life and struggling against the torrent of misfortunes.

You'd see them now smiling with eyes twinkling but behind these lie the still unsaid burdens that no one could hear unless one listens.

I gave one afternoon talk before them and advised them to be careful with their words. Wounds from verbal abuse run deep and all of them know it. The body could recover from a bruise but the heart could not, no, not even through time. All of us have our own share both in the receiving and giving ends of verbal warfare but how much time do we give ourselves in thinking twice before the next flurry of hurting words come out of our mouths?

I had to take aside one boy one afternoon. Apparently he was teased and bullied and he didn't know just how to express the anger building inside him. All he could do is run away from the situation and unload his frustrations unseen. I felt pity for him and I tried cheering him up with a glass of buko juice. But I also felt pity on those bullies who, unbeknownst to them, are just repeating the very things they had received from badmouthing and insult.

It's all a cycle of hurts that must simply stop. To react is to add to the momentum of the wheel of hate and everyone is run down by everyone's hate. It is pathetic, humanity killing itself by passing to the next person the hurts no one wants to receive.

Healing starts only by the truthful acceptance of the hurt. By this we become human.

But healing is completed by the selfless act of forgiveness and love. By this we become divine.

Storm? What storm?

It's 3:42 in the afternoon and the sky is all golden with the clouds basking in the afternoon sunshine. The trees still have their mighty bows and the ground is dry. Seems to me the typhoon Pablo or Bopha has never passed by Cebu.

The weather forecast and hush-hush built up a gloomy and almost apocalyptic preview of what's to come with Pablo. Science people were stating that this is the most powerful typhoon to hit the Philippines this year. While we were anxiously anticipating the arrival of Pablo, the weather was actually calm, the rain moderate since yesterday. The heavens resembled more the monsoon season than a Filipino Frankenstorm.

The boys were pestering me since yesterday asking questions like, "Has it come yet?". However, except for the cold damp wind and moderate winds yesterday lunch time there was nothing stormy about it. We are thankful that the storm did not lash out its fury on Cebu. Our hearts go out however to the people of Mindanao who took the beating most as they lay directly on the storm's destructive path.

We have been praying for the community of Don Bosco Mati who were the first to "welcome" the storm into Philippine soil.

After all the storms that passed through the Philippines in my lifetime nothing is more memorable to me than Ruping which hit Cebu hard.

The increasing strength of tropical cyclones however is worrying and indicative of climate change. Nothing is more fearsome than UN's chief saying that extreme weather conditions are the new 'normal'.