My Love Affair Post is Now Viral

I don’t know if people are just plain curious or are lusting after juicy topics. But in my various blogging projects, I find that writing about prohibited affairs are in the top of my stats page. My topics ranging from finance to religion and other topics of interest do not compare to my topic on this. Nevertheless, I also get quality comments. I hope that what they were searching for in the first place was not lustful or pessimistically called “juicy.” Here is the link to my viral topic.

My love affair with my mother.

Enjoy reading.

Remembering Fr. Green… again

Attending the mass during the wake of Fr. Green has further made me appreciate the greatness of his soul. Countless friends who made testimonials always agree that he was one great spiritual director, a good friend, and a humble man. His excellent character was also evident while he was at the seminary. Every morning at 4:00, we would go to the tv room and there he will pray. By 5am, he would be ready to say mass. He would say mass in Balara, Pentecost and other parishes which invites him. He would bring his trusty magnifying glass with him because his eyesight was already dim.

On Saturdays at the end of each month he would hold a recollection in San Jose attended by lay people from the city. Many would attend to it because the spiritually was apt for those in the marketplace and it was applicable to life. It was, as the attendees would say, “enlightening.”

Such is Fr. Green. I still would like to write about him later. His burial is nearing and I am sure I will cry alot… I’ll miss Fr. Green.

Beloved Fr. Thomas Green, SJ

Fr. THomas Green during his younger days

Today, both Jesuits and the San Jose Seminary are grieving. It has lost one of their best, the beloved Fr. Thomas Green, SJ, a friend to me and to thousand others as well. He succumbed to his illness. He was 76 years old. He died at about 10:00 am.

His directees would remember him as a loving old man who would be with them and listen to their God-experience. As a spiritual director, he would co-discern with them and would interpret God’s communication to the directee. He would be with them at the seminary lobby and listeto them.

For me I remember him plainly as a friend. He was not my spiritual director but I always go to his room and from there, he would tell his plans and stories. He told me stories about his family, his masses in the parishes, his friends, his directees and many more.

The memories he has left me as a friend is immense. He inspired me to be a better person. His life as a priest is extraordinary. Prior to his hospital admission, he would celebrate masses at Balara, Pentecost, and many other religious houses. He would still hold classes after that…

I idolize him. I wish to say more things about him. Good things, but I am restricted because I might be driven to tears. For those who searched Fr. Tom’s name and found this, you may have stories about him. Please share them.

Here are the schedules:

March 13-18,2009: Mass @ 8pm, San Jose Seminary

March 19, 2009: Mass and Burial 8am, Church of the Gesu, Ateneo de Manila University

Just Like God, Almost Like God

When I go home during my college days, my father makes it a point to invite me and drink with him within the vacation week. As a precautious teenager coming from the minor seminary, it seemed a test to me, as if he was to gauge if I was really drinking while I was away at college or I had been a good while away from home. So much so that I always beg off, first because I was guilty and second because it was awkward for the young eldest son to be drinking with his father considering also that it is not allowed legally.

I did that for many times. I only drink outside the house but never with my father. Until such time that he really convinced me to drink with him one evening. I can never forget that December night on the 22nd of 2004 when after the visitors had gone; only my father and I remained at the table, with me glancing awkwardly on my glass of beer and him with his favorite wine.

He strummed the guitar first and sang the “How Can I Tell Her” song by Lobo before everything was settled. After a few moments of impersonal greetings, he trudged me to memory lane and looking far to the road outside, he began to tell me his story.

He was the second of 9 children in an island far away from the town center. As a young boy, he was already helping the family in their needs. With no money to buy food they raised their own and it meant lots of hard work. Together with my uncle, they would get up at 3am to gather root crops like sweet potato for their breakfast and it meant walking barefoot to their farm about a kilometer away. After they gathered food, they would pasture the cows, fetch water from a nearby brook and get ready for school which is 1 ride boat and about 5 kilometer walk to the town center. In going home, they would leave their notebooks in a house and swim back to the island because no boats are available for them. On other days, they would wake up at 1am and fish using a crude method and he was grumbling because he had no sweater on and it was early morning. And it was during those cold mornings where they would go and fish until the sun rises and they would go back to their school routine.

And when he would tag along with my grandmother to the market, he was always embarrassed because of his typical poor shirt and torn shorts. He was also ashamed to ask for anything from my grandmother for it would mean that he can’t go with her anymore anytime because she’ll accuse him of . He was thus contented as sight-seer and a tag along.

When he awakened from his trip to memory lane, he told me that we were very fortunate. For he promised himself to exert all his effort to give his children the brightest future he can give. He risked taking the board exams and went to the city with only a few cents. He did not remember eating anything during his two day exams there. He married late so that he can establish himself and for us not to experience the same.

I don’t know how to relate my father’s story to the story of the Syro-Phoenician woman in the gospel today. But most probably my father can. He didn’t tell me he was humiliated while still growing up, but most probably he was.

As a Gentile and as a woman in first century Palestine, she was scorned by the Jews. But her “dream” to let her small daughter recover from sickness was enough to risk anything including maybe her dignity as a human person – “I’ll endure everything for the sake of my daughter.”. The woman must have been deeply humiliated for being treated like a dog. But her love for her small daughter –she was willing to sacrifice herself. Just like my father, just like God.

Thus after our conversation and drinking session, I came to see my father in a different light. This is a man who loves me and suffers for my sake for my future…

Just like God, almost like God, how much more God!

My Love Affair With My Mother…

I have an affair with my mother and I enjoy it. It is an affair that even my father knows but is very tolerant. Even my brother and sister is aware of it but they have no problem with that…

My love affair with my mother began just a few years ago when I graduated from college…

I love my mother and she loves me back. I love her as a son/ daughter should and she loves me back as a mother would.

Prior to our love affair I was at first a black sheep. You know what a black sheep is, right? I was one, and the hell, I liked every bit of it! It gave me some sort of power over anyone, and most of all, I was powerful over my mother. She will always cry when she hear some news about me getting into trouble somewhere else. In a way an exert power over them especially when I need something. I would just ask them about my wants and off they buy it for fear that I would make trouble…

I could not contain my grief when one day, she called me on the phone while I was away from home. She has was diagnosed to have a heart disease, an incurable one.

Images of the past filled my mind. I could vividly recall how I would hurt my mother and make her cry and I asked forgiveness from her for the many actions I’ve committed. As a mother would, she embraced me… tightly as if she was not letting go.

I was amazed at how she can forgive so easily despite my years of neglect and trouble-making. It was a heaven experience I would not trade for anything else.

Thus began our love affair. Now, when I come home every vacation, I make it a point to talk to her always… Now I see my mother in a different light. I love her. And I love every minute of it.

Certainly my mother will pass away very soon but I thank God that He gave me the opportunity to mend bridges before everything comes too late… Thank God.

Is our life that short?

Newspapers today carry a story about a young Filipino actor named Marky Cielo who died in his sleep. He was only about 20 years old. We will definitely miss him. As a starstruck survivor, we watched him garner the award way back 2005. He delighted us in front of the TV with his dance antics featuring his Igorot tribe.

I’ve never known Marky personally. What I know about him was he was young when he died. I’m older than him by a margin and I cannot think that such a person will die at a young age by acute hemorrhagic pancreatitis (bangungot). It reminds me also of another young actor Rico Yan who died of the same cause.

Definitely his death has moved me to think about my own life. The past years were focused more on externals: how do I look? What am I gonna wear to the party? Things like that. Today I hope to focus more and more on the internals. Like, what can I contribute to this advocacy? Like studying for the greater golory of God. Today I have to focus more on the sustenance of my spiritual life and my humble contribution to the world. Thus the question for me today is: What am I gonna do this week? What tasks are worthwhile? How can I help my neighbor?

There are other resolutions I also listed to guide me to become a better person: I should not be tempted by laziness anymore because with every minute that pass, opportunities also pass; I will pray everyday and deepen my friendship with God; I will pray for my friends, for neighbors and for everyone I know and see.

These are the resolutions I have made and hope to do today and in the days to come so that I may be ready when death comes knocking at my door.

Thank you Marky Cielo. Your death has opened my eyes. Rest in peace my friend.

WHAT WILL YOU GONNA DO WITH PACMAN’S MONEY?

Yeah Pacman won, and he has lots of money. What if Pacman gave ALL his winnings to you? What will you gonna do with it? How are you gonna spend it? Take the poll!

Do you want farmers in the city?!

4th day hunger strike

This month of December, I witnessed hundreds of farmers in the streets of Manila marching their way to Malacanang Palace to demand CARP (Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program) extension. There were Calatagan farmers, Banasi farmers, Negros farmers and Bukidnon IP farmers.

I came to visit 8 farmers who were from Negros and are tenants of the 3 haciendas of the Arroyo family. They are now on their 7th day of HUNGER STRIKE. They were asking that the land they tilled for a long long time be given to them as required by law.

I visited on the 4th day of their strike and I came to know that a woman farmer has already passed out from hunger and was taken to the hospital. She went back at the front of the DAR office and resumed her hunger strike when she was discharged the same day.

I was first a passive observer prior to immersing myself in this kind of advocacy. In fact I hated these “rallyists” for causing traffic and littering the streets. It was only when I learned about their plight that I came to involve myself and supported their activities. My “love affair” with them started last year with the Sumilao farmers. I was literally bombed with information about them that I came to join their march from Cubao to Ateneo because it was for justice. Right now, the Sumilao farmers are in peace because they now legally own the land they rightfully own in the first place.

The farmers in the city have almost the same stories as the Sumilao farmers. The Calatagan farmers have already paid for their land but the registrar did not annotate the title. When the Ascue family came to know about it, they sold it to the Asturias Corp and now there is mess. (story here) The Negros farmers are tenants of the Arroyo family in Negros. It is sad to know that GMA is silent on this issue hounding her family and administration. She cannot really clean her own backyard.

Reflecting from the events starting last year, it is sad to note that FARMERS WOULD GO TO THE STREETS FOR THEIR VOICES TO BE HEARD. Instead of caring for those who provide food for this country, the funds for them get stashed in someone’s bank account (read: Bolante); they are literally being reduced to the margins in this agricultural country where they should be given priority. Instead of giving them their own lands lands to till, they are made to work for their lords. We are going back to the middle ages…

Is this the way justice works here? That they have to be in the streets for their appeals to be heard? When will this continue? How long will the CARP extension be passed, after those Negros farmers die from hunger?

Farmers should not be here in the city. They have to be in their farms tilling the land, earning a living for their families, and supplying us needed rice. But they are not. Instead, they are in the streets crying out for justice; they are hungry when in fact they should be full, their feet are in the streets where they should be in the paddies, they are crying for a land when they should have had their own.

Going through the knife

Today, a young brother in our community will be going through the knife at the Heart Center. He is suffering from a rheumatic heart disease and it was only discovered three months ago. The doctors discovered two damaged heart valves and immediately scheduled a surgical procedure. The valves will be replaced I think by a pig’s heart valve in order for it to function well.

As I saw him these past days, I can see the sufferings he was going through. He cannot eat what he liked most. Dried fish and bagoong were his favorites and I see how he salivates whenever he sees some of our brothers eating his favorite dishes. He cannot play anymore. His heart palpitates when he gets tired and the doctors ordered him to refrain from many activities he enjoy the most. It was such an agony for him at first.

Somehow when we talked before I left him at the hospital, I can sense peace and reassurance in him. I cannot trace anymore the pain and denial in his being. He was calm, composed. He shared to me about his sickness – how it led him to trust more in God, to find joy in solitude and to find peace in the midst of suffering. His heart was literally painful at first but now it is gone he told me. Because he was not questioning God anymore. He is already trusting him so much so that even when he won’t be healed, he will remain trusting in God. Kudos to you brother.

The Financial Crisis From a Masa’s Perspective

My mother is very much happy. She’s getting stronger now, she said. I asked her why. She answered, before, I can’t carry a thousand pesos worth of food. Now, it’s becoming lighter. I must be getting stronger now.

This incident with my mother woke me up to the brighter side of the current financial crisis we are experiencing especially here in the Philippines. We are getting stronger. It’s true, because our load are becoming lighter. Bright because we are still able to joke about it. But beyond it, there’s nothing more but a dark horizon of a relatively dreadful future. For beyond this joke is the hardship of a mother  and a thousand other mothers who have to make ends really, really meet.

We are a middle class family in Philippine standards but we are feeling the pinch of the high prices of commodities. Our cinematic experiences are now limited to once every two months we now carefully choose which movies to watch. (Pity those mediocre films). I now borrow old DVD movies of friends and watch them at my room most of the time. My bonding time with my brother is now limited to eating at cheap restaurants, our visit to relatives are now limited too. It is because we have to save and allocate our resources to more important things like food and academic requirements.

While I am pronouncing these personal woes, I just can’t imagine how people within and below the poverty line are coping up with this crisis. I think this is really a more trying and more difficult time for them. I imagine that they would scavenge more ferociously at dumpsites [good that there will be melamine-tainted milk for their consumption ], eat once instead of twice a day, eat rice with no viand, etc. It’s really hard to imagine. Maybe next week I’ll visit a squatter’s area to see for myself…

With this current financial crisis, I am drawn towards investing my hard-earned money into something more profitable. I am tempted to withdraw my assets from the bank and invest perhaps in mutual funds, money markets, and other financial plans. But I don’t know how to invest yet in the ways I’ve mentioned and how they work. Perhaps it would generate for me a modest income to augment my school allowance (which is very minimal) and still be profitable. Going to business is not yet an option because of demanding requirements at school. I’m afraid that if won’t have such a move, I would later be a part of NSO’s below-the-poverty-line statistics.