Antonio C., you asked what you could give me when you come home. Well, choose from the list :)
1. Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem
2. Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
3. Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning by Viktor Frankl
4. The Prince by Niccolo Macchiavelli
5. Zeno and the Tortoise by Nicholas Fearn
6. Philosophy by Nicholas Fearn
7. How To Be Your Best When You Feel Your Worst by Casey Treat
8. Seven Things That Steal Your Joy by Joyce Meyer
I am off to the bookstore...
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Goodbye, Madame Cory
I was barely three years old when your husband died. I was barely seven years old when you took office. During your presidency, I was a grade school student whose only concerns were school, games with friends, and weekend outings with my family.
I actually had to review my history to know you more. Today, though, while listening to the radio, I realized that your legacy is not just your government that restored democracy in this country; it is not just the laws you passed during your term. Your legacy includes the lives you touched during your lifetime.
I heard enough testimonies about your humility, sincerity, and propriety as a leader. I hope our leaders learn from you. If only these past few days are a proof, you are one of those worthy to be called "a leader".
A Poem for the Eagle's Star
The rainy afternoon made me remember this poem. I wrote it in April this year and the edited version became part of the 28th edition (May) of the Poet's Picturebook--an ezine of photography, essays, and poems.
What the Rain Brings
The sky is downcast again today. At seven in the morning, a gray presence was looming over the city. There’s news of rain, of a storm actually…a storm in May, in summer. Isn’t it odd? Do you know that I remember you when it rains?
You crossed my mind when I looked at the gray sky today, when I stepped out of my house expecting to be greeted by the summer heat, but instead, there was the gloomy presence of the still air. Then, I caught myself: I have said goodbye, I should stop remembering you when it rains.
June is just within reach. I can already hear its sound—the start of the season of rain. I don’t want to think of you whenever it rains in June, or in July. I have said goodbye.
But, maybe, I need the rain. I need the rain not to remind me of you but to wash away every memory that I still have of you, to wash away even the littlest trace you still have in my mind and in my heart.
Today, I felt fear when I realized that the rain still reminds me of you. And I can’t go on feeling afraid of the rain just because it reminds me of you, because I need the rain, I have been asking for rain in this warm, sticky summer season. And the rain came, and the memories of you came…and I was afraid…but if the rain will wash you away from my being, then I will welcome it even more, even the monsoon season.
What the Rain Brings
The sky is downcast again today. At seven in the morning, a gray presence was looming over the city. There’s news of rain, of a storm actually…a storm in May, in summer. Isn’t it odd? Do you know that I remember you when it rains?
You crossed my mind when I looked at the gray sky today, when I stepped out of my house expecting to be greeted by the summer heat, but instead, there was the gloomy presence of the still air. Then, I caught myself: I have said goodbye, I should stop remembering you when it rains.
June is just within reach. I can already hear its sound—the start of the season of rain. I don’t want to think of you whenever it rains in June, or in July. I have said goodbye.
But, maybe, I need the rain. I need the rain not to remind me of you but to wash away every memory that I still have of you, to wash away even the littlest trace you still have in my mind and in my heart.
Today, I felt fear when I realized that the rain still reminds me of you. And I can’t go on feeling afraid of the rain just because it reminds me of you, because I need the rain, I have been asking for rain in this warm, sticky summer season. And the rain came, and the memories of you came…and I was afraid…but if the rain will wash you away from my being, then I will welcome it even more, even the monsoon season.
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