Thursday, November 19, 2009
TRUE HEROES ARE ALIVE
“Life is full of heroism”, I remember this line from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s A Psalm of Life when I memorized it for my freshman speech class in high school. Indeed, in our midst, heroes abound. Among our family, friends, neighbors and even strangers may had, one way or the other, played hero to us. There is no need to argue about what and who is our hero according to personal experience. As we say, “to each its own.”
However, it is troubling to see people pretending to be heroes and brandishing certain so-called-heroic acts senselessly in public. Nowadays, our mass media is plagued by many who put-on the image of heroism. Yet, in truth, what they’re after is the public recognition and worldly acclaim to gain wealth and power to be used for selfish interest. The audacity of those people in politics, showbiz, sports and business has reduced the most noble and heroic acts as tools to manipulate the mind set of the population. How tragic, indeed.
But, there are those who labor without the publicity; those who has nothing personal to gain but to make this world a better place to live in. Yes, true heroes are not dead, they are very much alive. They don’t crave for social status or gain influence for their own sake but rather for the purpose of their heroic deeds.
We don’t need those who seek public office and use public funds to do what they are ought to do. Forget the entertainers, beauty title holders and sports idols who may have gained fame internationally but that’s nothing much to solve the misery, poverty and ignorance of this country. I do salute them for their achievements. However, there’s nothing heroic about them.
It’s about time to open our eyes and hearts to those whose altruistic works inspire and directly touch the lives of people in their respective communities. They may not be popular enough for politicians to pester-on like flies to a pie, yet, they are tireless in helping others. They may lack the resources, yet, they never give-up. They don’t have much influence and power, yet, they give their best of themselves to serve.
Yes, heroes are those who give their very life so that others may live. There may be those who are called to die for noble causes, however, much more are those who live to give meaning to the lives of others. All of them, still alive or has gone ahead, are heroes. Many of them may pass-away unknown but their legacy will live forever in the lives of those they touched.
No amount of fame and fortune is the worth of any hero. Their heroic deeds can not be sufficiently recognized through public ceremonies, official pronouncements or civil and social salutations. Medals, certificates and trophies fade and tarnish. However, the ultimate recognition lies in the changed-lives of those who were affected by their heroism.
The remarkable story of heroes and their heroic deeds are truly inspiring. But they are tough acts to follow. The challenges of our lives may restrict us from accomplishing things that goes beyond what is required of us. The daily grind may prevent us from getting involved in the world beyond our home, career and personal aspirations. But, it is not hopeless for any of us to affect change. With one’s genuine concern, sincerity of purpose and inherent will to be of service in whatever capacity are fertile grounds for heroic inspiration to be born.
May more TRUE heroes be born unto us! “MABUHAY ang mga TUNAY na BAYANI ng bayan!” ( Long-live the true heroes of the nation!)
P.S.
We still have until today to vote for Efren Penaflorida, Jr. as CNN’s HERO OF THE YEAR. Just log-on and vote at http://www.cnn.com/heroes
Show our support. His prize will benefit the education of our street children. Let us help him break the darkness of ignorance by sharing the light of knowlegde. This is to brighten the future of this nation for the sake of our children. Thank you very much!
Monday, November 2, 2009
BYE, BYE BIRDY
A Memoir on Death
Two weeks ago our pet Birdy was discovered by my mother to be lethargic. The bird was too weak to eat or to even stand up. His struggling to drink from the water basin could indicate dehydration. Tatay, my stepfather, got him out of the cage; wrapped him with a clean rag and tried to serve him water mixed with sugar. Later, a bit of antibiotic was administered which I think did not help or, perhaps, worsen his condition.
Feeling somber I prayed-over Birdy. I even placed the picture of St. Pio de Pietrelcina over where his body rest while invoking the saint’s intercession. I can’t help feeling ridiculous doing this. However, there is an overwhelming force within me that challenges the absurdity of the moment.
For the next hour, I could hear a faint chirp. I couldn’t tell if it was in pain, discomfort or a sign of recovery. My auditory perception tells me it was of relief or, maybe, it was what I wanted to believe. I watched TV to momentarily distract me from the inevitable. Half an hour past, another faint chirp was heard. Tatay checked on him ten minutes later and said, “I think he is gone”. What I heard was his last chirp.
I said grace before dinner adding a prayerful thanks to God for all creatures. Then, quietly we had dinner, oblivious of the sound of the TV. Until Tatay broke the silence saying, “Futile it may be, we tried our best to revive him. At least he died with warmth and tenderness.” That thought made me feel better. No words ensue from any of us until after dinner.
Feeling uneasy how to dispose of the carcass, I just sat there. Until, in silence, Tatay got an empty pizza box and started cutting. The serious mood was finally broken when the makeshift coffin was labeled “Rest In Peace” and we all had a good laugh. I, then, took pictures as mementoes.
It was hardly the moment we read about or depicted on cinema or perhaps in actual experience. As opposed to a young dad comforting his child over a dead pet, here is a 61 year old with his 40 year old stepson together in “child’s play”. Looking back, it was ironic that I didn’t have moments like this with my own father. And when he passed-away eleven years ago, I felt betrayed because I was robbed of the times I could have had with him.
I remember as a child I cried over the movie film “Where the Red Fern Grows”. It was about a boy and his two dogs (I think they were bloodhounds) he found in the wilderness. The boy’s poor family was living in the mountains in a US Midwestern state. His parents were at first opposed to him keeping the dogs when they had little to eat. Eventually, his parents’ love for him prevailed and he got to keep the dogs. However, the boy was shattered when the female dog died fighting-off a grizzly bear to save his life. Later, in grief, the male dog soon followed to the grave. A red fern grew in the site of the dogs’ grave gave the boy the courage to move on and learn the lessons of life, survival and death. It was a turning point in his life.
As a teenager, while growing up in the harsh life of family dysfunctionality, I read about “The Tale of the Dog Who Killed Itself” by Richard Jenkins. Although the story revolved around the family’s pet dog and his demised, it was used as an allegory to the story of the family in the brink of brokenness and divorce. The dog (a schipperke) in the story run-away one day and deliberately jumped-off to a river. It wasn’t explained in the book why the dog did that. It was left to the readers. Maybe the dog felt the unease within the family due to estrangement. Or, perhaps, he felt neglected by his desolate masters. What was touching was when the dad built a fence around the house telling his son that it was a memorial to their dog. He adds, miles and miles of fences are being built across America to make them remember. Perhaps, the fences symbolize unity, continuity and hope.
Indeed, we learn about death as young as we can remember. As we grow up, we witness life’s mortality and in every encounter with grief we come in terms with its inevitability. As we age, we discover that death goes beyond the concepts we were taught in our youth.
Oftentimes, death is characterized as a solitary experience; truly, it is. However, it has a social dimension that we never fully realize. It is strange how death, more often than not, becomes an impetus to many life-changing events and unexpected turnabouts. More than any other phase of life, the complexities of human relations are emphasized at death. Families are reunited after so many years due to animosities or by long distances. On the contrary, family feud suddenly sparks by greed in the issue of inheritance. And suddenly, the varying degrees of relationship and its qualities, or the lack of it, are brought to the fore. The emotional intensity generated by our interpersonal involvements is expounded at death more than any other phase of life. So, whether it is happy, sad, remorseful, fury or indifference depends on the shared moments we had with each other.
As Birdy’s carcass was finally put inside the cardboard coffin, I went outside the garden to place it in a shallow grave in a terra cotta plant pot. Tatay followed and stand beside me over the grave for a moment. With wit but comforting voice, he said, “the carton is bio-degradable. It said so on the box. We could still use the pot for planting.” I flashed him a grin as I threw bird-seeds over the grave as a sign of reverence. In the midst of this, I know my mother was silently laughing at us. Perhaps, she can’t believe this comical sight. Tatay joined her to stand at a distance from me when I proceeded to light a candle at the grotto directly above the pot of a grave and whispered a prayer.
My prayer was not so much for the dead creature, as we do when praying for the (human) dead. It is more of gratitude for having moments such as this, silly as it may seem, to simulate a childhood experience with an unusual twist. Time paused for a brief moment for my mother, Tatay and me. In simple gestures amidst our silence we were one in spirit. It was funny yet at the same time profound experience that a pet’s demise was instrumental in bringing a special moment of togetherness. These are small yet precious investments we bring in our relationship as a family. In a way, moments like this shall be fondly remembered when either of us has gone ahead of the other. It shall be a bittersweet reminisce full of wonder and, perhaps, amusement.
A Memoir on Death
Two weeks ago our pet Birdy was discovered by my mother to be lethargic. The bird was too weak to eat or to even stand up. His struggling to drink from the water basin could indicate dehydration. Tatay, my stepfather, got him out of the cage; wrapped him with a clean rag and tried to serve him water mixed with sugar. Later, a bit of antibiotic was administered which I think did not help or, perhaps, worsen his condition.
Feeling somber I prayed-over Birdy. I even placed the picture of St. Pio de Pietrelcina over where his body rest while invoking the saint’s intercession. I can’t help feeling ridiculous doing this. However, there is an overwhelming force within me that challenges the absurdity of the moment.
For the next hour, I could hear a faint chirp. I couldn’t tell if it was in pain, discomfort or a sign of recovery. My auditory perception tells me it was of relief or, maybe, it was what I wanted to believe. I watched TV to momentarily distract me from the inevitable. Half an hour past, another faint chirp was heard. Tatay checked on him ten minutes later and said, “I think he is gone”. What I heard was his last chirp.
I said grace before dinner adding a prayerful thanks to God for all creatures. Then, quietly we had dinner, oblivious of the sound of the TV. Until Tatay broke the silence saying, “Futile it may be, we tried our best to revive him. At least he died with warmth and tenderness.” That thought made me feel better. No words ensue from any of us until after dinner.
Feeling uneasy how to dispose of the carcass, I just sat there. Until, in silence, Tatay got an empty pizza box and started cutting. The serious mood was finally broken when the makeshift coffin was labeled “Rest In Peace” and we all had a good laugh. I, then, took pictures as mementoes.
It was hardly the moment we read about or depicted on cinema or perhaps in actual experience. As opposed to a young dad comforting his child over a dead pet, here is a 61 year old with his 40 year old stepson together in “child’s play”. Looking back, it was ironic that I didn’t have moments like this with my own father. And when he passed-away eleven years ago, I felt betrayed because I was robbed of the times I could have had with him.
I remember as a child I cried over the movie film “Where the Red Fern Grows”. It was about a boy and his two dogs (I think they were bloodhounds) he found in the wilderness. The boy’s poor family was living in the mountains in a US Midwestern state. His parents were at first opposed to him keeping the dogs when they had little to eat. Eventually, his parents’ love for him prevailed and he got to keep the dogs. However, the boy was shattered when the female dog died fighting-off a grizzly bear to save his life. Later, in grief, the male dog soon followed to the grave. A red fern grew in the site of the dogs’ grave gave the boy the courage to move on and learn the lessons of life, survival and death. It was a turning point in his life.
As a teenager, while growing up in the harsh life of family dysfunctionality, I read about “The Tale of the Dog Who Killed Itself” by Richard Jenkins. Although the story revolved around the family’s pet dog and his demised, it was used as an allegory to the story of the family in the brink of brokenness and divorce. The dog (a schipperke) in the story run-away one day and deliberately jumped-off to a river. It wasn’t explained in the book why the dog did that. It was left to the readers. Maybe the dog felt the unease within the family due to estrangement. Or, perhaps, he felt neglected by his desolate masters. What was touching was when the dad built a fence around the house telling his son that it was a memorial to their dog. He adds, miles and miles of fences are being built across America to make them remember. Perhaps, the fences symbolize unity, continuity and hope.
Indeed, we learn about death as young as we can remember. As we grow up, we witness life’s mortality and in every encounter with grief we come in terms with its inevitability. As we age, we discover that death goes beyond the concepts we were taught in our youth.
Oftentimes, death is characterized as a solitary experience; truly, it is. However, it has a social dimension that we never fully realize. It is strange how death, more often than not, becomes an impetus to many life-changing events and unexpected turnabouts. More than any other phase of life, the complexities of human relations are emphasized at death. Families are reunited after so many years due to animosities or by long distances. On the contrary, family feud suddenly sparks by greed in the issue of inheritance. And suddenly, the varying degrees of relationship and its qualities, or the lack of it, are brought to the fore. The emotional intensity generated by our interpersonal involvements is expounded at death more than any other phase of life. So, whether it is happy, sad, remorseful, fury or indifference depends on the shared moments we had with each other.
As Birdy’s carcass was finally put inside the cardboard coffin, I went outside the garden to place it in a shallow grave in a terra cotta plant pot. Tatay followed and stand beside me over the grave for a moment. With wit but comforting voice, he said, “the carton is bio-degradable. It said so on the box. We could still use the pot for planting.” I flashed him a grin as I threw bird-seeds over the grave as a sign of reverence. In the midst of this, I know my mother was silently laughing at us. Perhaps, she can’t believe this comical sight. Tatay joined her to stand at a distance from me when I proceeded to light a candle at the grotto directly above the pot of a grave and whispered a prayer.
My prayer was not so much for the dead creature, as we do when praying for the (human) dead. It is more of gratitude for having moments such as this, silly as it may seem, to simulate a childhood experience with an unusual twist. Time paused for a brief moment for my mother, Tatay and me. In simple gestures amidst our silence we were one in spirit. It was funny yet at the same time profound experience that a pet’s demise was instrumental in bringing a special moment of togetherness. These are small yet precious investments we bring in our relationship as a family. In a way, moments like this shall be fondly remembered when either of us has gone ahead of the other. It shall be a bittersweet reminisce full of wonder and, perhaps, amusement.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
CIRCA 1969 (Conclusion) : CLOSING THE GAP
“One small step of man, a giant step for mankind”, this statement by U.S. Astronaut Neil Armstrong upon stepping on the surface of the moon sums up and defines 1969 as the year of radical changes and unprecedented highlights in the history of humanity. Indeed, it was a pivotal year. The happenings of that time were precursor for what we now see institutionalized around us. It was revelatory to us how our present relates so much to what happened forty years ago.
Without disregard to the achievements and milestones of years before and after, we could say that it was when our world turned into what it is now. Craig Wilson, USA Today columnist reviewed the book 1969: The Year Everything Changed by Patrick Kirkpatrick, said that it was a year of 'landmark achievements, cataclysmic episodes and generation-defining events. Kirkpatrick asserts that 1969 was the birth of modern America. In his book he was able to point out how this incredible year reflected deep underlying changes in American culture. Since America is the dominant power in the world after WW II, its cultural influences are felt beyond its shores. Thus, the revolutions and innovations of 1969 was a universal experience.
Indeed we are still living in turbulent times. I don’t know any time devoid of that. It is part of our reality. Every era has its own challenges. We, from this era, are in a better position to bridge the gap between generations. We may be conservative in our upbringing but liberal at the same time. Our parents maybe from a different era yet we do relate to them specially, now that we are parents ourselves. Altogether, we are modern enough (sophisticated, too!) to relate to the young. Nowadays, it is common to see parents and their kids surf the internet, play digital game or tinker with the latest gadgets together. Listen together to rap, rock or pop music, even!
As an age-group born on that year, we don’t exclusively claim greatness amongst the generations. However, our time has come as we are now in the forefront of leadership, the responsibility to create a better civilization rest in our hands. Many among us may be captains of various industries, CEO’s or entrepreneurs; some maybe leaders of government, institutions and movements of diverse human causes; most, perhaps are parents. No matter what role we play in life, each bears the responsibility. Collectively, history shall someday judge us as a generation. Whether kindly or cruel the judgment will depend on our contribution and combined effort for the future. There is a saying that, “History is written by winners”. Sooner or later, it will be our turn to write history accordingly if we win or loose the battle for a better world.
There is something personal about history. In a way, we all write history. The events and milestones of our life, no matter how personal, may alter the world we live in. They may not be worthy to be published in books or stored in public archives, yet they are etched in the memory of every life we touched. According to a friend, “it is about leaving your footprints on other peoples’ lives.” My immediate reply, “Yup, don’t forget to leave your footprints on your enemies, too… on their faces!” But kidding aside, our footprints are indeed marked on every person we encounter, whether they are friend or foe. To quote Peggy Tabor Millin, “We never touch people so lightly that we do not leave a trace.”
To be born in 1969 is challenging. But, thanks to the generation before us for bringing in change; opening–up new ideas; teaching us to see the world in a different perspective and exploring beyond the boundaries to be able to come up with the innovations we enjoy today. With these, we are prepared to take-up the challenge of building our own legacy to be passed on to the next generation. Thus, we close the gap by building bridges to link the wisdom of the pass with the aspirations of the future. We foster better understanding between the ages to form solidarity to achieve the hopes of our civilization.
DJ FLAME
Monday, October 26, 2009
CIRCA 1969 (Part VI) : NUMERICAL PHENOMENON
Some doomsday prophets and soothsayers look back at 1969 as an eerie year. They assert that spiritual elements were at work. Dub as the “Summer of Evil” because it was the summer of the Manson murders where members of a cult led by Charles Manson murdered actress Sharon Tate, who was eight months pregnant, and her friends in Los Angeles. Also, it was the year of The Zodiac murders and the publication of the first Satanic Bible in San Francisco. The advancements in science had crossed the line of bio-ethical limits and morality. Such were in vitro fertilization, genetic engineering and abortion.
As already cited, this was a year characterized by the sexual revolution; social upheaval and war. The exposure to the culture of drugs, rebellion, and violence were prevalent. Many shamelessly defy the sexual mores of that time. Suddenly, there was an environment of moral laxity and decadence. The new form of artistic and ideological expressions invaded almost every institution including the academe in the guise of academic freedom. Such were the rise of feminism and the gay liberation movements that indicated the blurring of genders. And, the powers of Communism which adheres to the Godless ideals of atheism had been increasing worldwide. Philosophies that are perceived to go against Christian doctrines permeated the spiritual consciousness of the population. Such are the eastern beliefs and worship as opposed to Christian traditions.
Moreover, psychic phenomena were brought to the fore. Cults and neo-pagan organizations proliferated which soon turned into the New Age movement. This movement is viewed as a phenomenon associated with the arrival or imminent arrival of the Age of Aquarius. The memorable line of the song “Aquarius” from the rock musical Hair, "This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius," brought the Aquarian Age concept to the attention of audiences worldwide when it hit the pop charts in 1969. However, as the song relates, it is only considered by astrologers to be the dawning of the age, but the song does announce the actual start of the age and within the first lines. "When the Moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter aligns with Mars. Then peace will guide the planets, and love will steer the stars." This alignment occurred on February 14, 2009 – Valentine's Day. However, according to Neil Spencer, this is `astrological gibberish' as Jupiter aligns with Mars several times a year and the Moon is in the 7th House for about two hours every day. Though the lines of this song are merely poetic license, many people take them as a literal truth. Furthermore, Neil Spencer provides an overview of the Age of Aquarius stating that the rise of scientific rationalism combined with the fall of religious influence is possibly an indication of this age. He points to the exponential growth of technology, especially of computers and the Internet, plus the growth in flight and space travel as examples of the dawning of the Age of Aquarius.
For the superstitious, 1969 was linked with 1966 the year when the first Church of Satan was established. Apparently, it was being associated with the proverbial ‘666’ which is the ‘mark of the beast’ as written in the Book of Revelations or simply known as the “devil’s number”. Well, there are those who like to play around with turning numbers backwards or upside-down.
Also, it is noteworthy that the numerical symbol 69 identically resembles the ancient Chinese symbol of Yin and Yang which represents the understanding of how things work. This symbolizes life’s contradictions at the same time harmony. While "yin" would be dark, passive, downward, cold, contracting, and weak, "yang" would be bright, active, upward, hot, expanding, and strong. The shape of the yin and yang sections of the symbol suggests a sense of the continual movement of these two energies causing everything to happen. The concentration of Yang, the force of light, earth was created by the concentration of Yin, the forces of darkness. Yang stands for peace and serenity; Yin stands for confusion and turmoil. Yang stands for destruction; Yin stands for conservation. Yang brings about disintegration; Yin gives shape to things.
Mysticism, superstition, magic and miracles; omen. These are but the unexplained phenomena of our existence. Sometimes, our quest for meanings in events that happens in our life may go beyond the realms of science and reason. Yet we know that everything happens for a reason. Oftentimes, our perceptions why things happen is dictated by pure intuition.Indeed, there are uncanny coincidences that occurred in 1969. But, uncanny coincidences do happen to us everyday. Evil, as well as good, is as old as time itself. Since the dawn of humanity, the conflict between the forces of good and evil characterizes our life. And the mysteries behind these forces are certainly lurking in every human soul.
Monday, October 12, 2009
CIRCA 1969 (Part V) : RAINBOW COLORS
It was a truly colorful year. Humanity no longer saw things strictly in “black and white” but in living colors. Regular coulour television broadcasts begun on BBC1 and ITV in UK on November 15, 1969. How was that at seeing colors!
But not only literally do we start seeing in varied colors. New ideas sprung and people started viewing the world in unconventional or non- traditional ways. Causes that espouse racial, gender, ethnic and societal equality were brought to the fore. This gave birth to the Counterculture of the 1960s that includes social movements such as the African American Civil Rights Movements, antiwar demonstrations and activists advocating for social change. These influences served as catalysts for the Stonewall riots. Homosexuals and drag queens fought back after police raided New York’s Stonewall Inn that took place in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969. Suddenly, there was solidarity among gay people. Like other ethnic communities in America, gays discovered they were a community. This was the genesis of the gay rights movement. From then on gays, as a group of sexual minorities, would forcibly resist any form of discrimination worldwide.
Civil rights movements sprung not only in America but in other countries as well. In Northern Ireland, People's Democracy marched from Belfast to Derry, in support of civil rights. In Canada, French was made equal to English throughout the Canadian national government to demonstrate equality among its English and French-speaking citizens.
Indeed, 1969 was a “colorful” year. Although much is still to be done in the quest for equality and social justice, it is hard to imagine how our present society might have been without the events that changed our perception of people in respect to gender, sexuality, race and creed. Constantly, we seek unity amidst diversity. Our hope lies in mutual respect and the inherent ability to see the beauty in variety.
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