The biggest problem: getting to work

We are born; we study; we work for almost half a century; we retire and get our pension; after a couple of years or three, we die. That’s how mundane one’s description of life is. I got that from one episode of The Office (British edition).

People at work come and go; some workers even find it hard to leave that one place that has nurtured them because of the friendships they had established. And so they make such passionate resignation letters telling their immediate bosses how much have learned throughout their stay in the company, or how sorry they are to leave the firm were it not for the HUGE offer they got, or yada-yada-yada.

What do you get in return? Not even a thank you after years of making use of your brain. Days before your very last day, they might invite you for a lunch-out with the whole team at some posh all-you-eat diner or a sad get together in the conference room with some buckets of KFC chicken.

Work as if you were to live a hundred years. Pray as if you were to die tomorrow. – Benjamin Franklin

Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich

Does one’s religion really matter? I just heard (catching up on previous shows) the podcast of Father Roderick covering the faith of Batman because the question on what was Batman’s religion – whether a Catholic or Buddist or Episcopalian – was raised in the forums of his site.

Sometimes – most actually – religion is the root of fighting between tribes, between factions, between countries; it was shoving each other’s beliefs down each other’s throat. Maybe it doesn’t really matter which religion you adhere to but what matters is that you have a belief in something – that there is an omnipotent, omniscient being that one has to answer to at the end of all things. People might call that being in different names: Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh or Jehovah; that being still is a God. We all die anyway, and there’s a fifty percent chance that we are either right or wrong.

I would rather live my life as if there is a God and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't and die to find out there is. – Albert Camus

Spiritual Chic

I just stumbled upon the hippest priest on the planet these days. I wasn’t in search of some religious awakening – more like looking for more Harry Potter related podcasts to subscribe to. Yes, Virginia, couldn’t even believe myself that Harry Potter would lead me back to Christ. I recently subscribed to “The Secrets of Harry Potter” and was surprised to hear that it was produced and hosted by Father Roderick Vonhögen; it wasn’t even his only podcast. Father Roderick started podcasting (Catholic Insider) shortly after Pope John Paul II became ill before his death. His third podcast is The Star Wars Chronicles; now, isn’t that cool?

The Secrets of Harry Potter podcast explores the ancient themes imbedded in the book series and gives spiritual insights about them; on the other hand, The Star Wars Chronicles is a podcast that takes you to the galaxy far, far away where Anakin wields his lightsaber and discover the religious themes beneath the saga. As for the Catholic Insider, it tackles pop-culture and non-Catholics could even subscribe, too. It, likewise, features audio tours inside a church or even spending an afternoon in Rome.

In his latest episode of The Secrets of Harry Potter, Father Roderick discussed the one thing that the Daily Prophet (newspaper in HP magical world), Yoda, some people in the Matrix and John the Baptist have in common. He is bringing the gospel to the youth and I admire him for that – associating the gospel with pop-culture is the better way to introduce to youngsters the word of God.

Oh, you can also turn your portable mediaplayer into a PSP (Praystation Portable); by subscribing, you can download a daily morning and evening prayer.

A Journey of Faith

We went to a special exhibit in the Asian Civilisations Museum on Empress Place; it is a collection of historical artworks from the Vatican. What is amazing about our little culture trip, was that not only were we treated with Catholic heritage but also of different religions – Buddhism, Hinduism, and Islam.

It isn’t a huge collection, but visitors were gifted with works of some famous painters such as Raphael, Veronese and Guido Reni. One would get to see the lavishness of the Papal garbs and articles.

The exhibit followed the journey of Christianism: from the travels of Peter and Paul until it reaches the shores of Singapore. There were artifacts from the early Christian catacombs; the role of Constantine the Great and his mother, Helena, in the building of the Church was highlighted; and the series of architectural plans for construction of St. Peter’s Basilica was displayed.

I saw a few relics from the Philippines (highlighted as the only country in Southeast Asia with the high percentage of Christian population) – santo or puon in our dialect. One thing I’ve noticed in a couple of those statues was their noses, and that gave me an idea that they were indeed at least a century old. It was mentioned in one of my Theology classes that one would notice a butchered or smashed up nose of old religious statues in our country. How is that so? It was part of the Philippine revolution.

We all know that Christianity was brought in our shores by the westerners – Spaniards, to be precise. In our indoctrination, we were introduced to images of saints with thin noses – far from the flat nose of an indio. After three hundred years of colonization and being under the clutches of oppressive padres, the revolutionary people fought for their freedom, and smashed the high noses of the symbols inside their church and houses for they so much remind the people of the colonizers.

My grandmother had a statue of the Virgin Mary in her own room. It was quite old, as she said that she was still a young girl when it was given to her; though, she’s not sure how old. Its nose was chipped, but I’m not sure if it was as old as Bonifacio; for all we know, it could have been knocked off by a strong gust of wind and fell flat on its nose.

You went away but haven’t bidden me goodbye

You were my ally – my calming voice amidst the heavy thunderstorms, my steady hand when the world shook, my guiding hand in the middle of the deep blue sea, above all you were my rock. Never have it occurred to me that you would leave me that early; I was hoping for more years of adventures with you. Yet life can play its silly tricks on us and whisked you away.

You were gone in an instant, all alone inside your car just a few steps away from the hospital doors. Why must you leave us without bidding your goodbye? Why must you leave by your lonesome when we were always there for each other at most times? Maybe you don’t want us to see your suffering or your countenance when the realization hits you that that was the end.

You don’t like seeing me cry but I can’t stop the tears flowing from my eyes. I felt cheated. We were cheated of a life filled with more promise. You were a great man – a man of God and a man of the people, a man of great courage and intelligence, and a man of conviction and integrity. You were taken when there were others who deserve death earlier than you did. But who am I to judge who should go and who should stay? Maybe that’s the reason for your leaving early on, that you legacy shall forever be untarnished.

Like what I have said before: “We shall meet again.” No goodbyes for us.

Today is a special day for my family: though this is one day wherein we could never feel simply being happy or sad. My brother is celebrating his 29th birthday, while we are also commemorating the 14 years of our Dad’s passing.

By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day

Ten years ago, on the first Monday of October, I started my life of a working-class citizen. Yes, Virginia, I’ve been slaving it out for ten years now – a decade of paddling, yet I feel like I’m getting nowhere. Vigorous thrashing and waddling brought me to Singapore, after working for four years and nine months in PhilamPlans; since then I’ve worked in three banks.

Today, another Filipino analyst/programmer in our area left UOB to join yet another bank. We call him Manong Ric, though he looks far from being old (baby head face nga, eh), and in his farewell email he spoke of following one’s “personal legend”. This made me think and question myself: “What is my personal myth?” To be a mother and a wife with a little career on the side?

Back when I was a child, when asked what I would want to be when I grow up, I never really had a definite answer – sometimes I wanted to be a teacher like my Mom, sometimes I thought being an Engineer like my Dad was cool, sometimes I get mesmerized with the brilliance of a doctor, or sometimes I’d simply whisper that I wanted to be an entertainer. I may be a child of the current – one that is following the flow or waiting where the water would take me; but I endure.

As for my personal legend, I don’t have one yet and maybe it’s time to start making one; through that, I might find the true meaning of happiness and of fulfillment.