I Cry

I cry for kindness, when it’s mistaken for meekness.
I cry for innocence, when it’s seen as weakness.
I cry for love, when it’s thought of as purpose.
I cry for selflessness, when it’s depreciated to heroism. [1]
I cry for hope, when it’s overcome by fear.
I cry for freedom, when it’s trampled by irresponsibility.
I cry for conscience, when it’s taken over by greed.
I cry for loneliness, when it’s filled with self-pity.
I cry for desire, when it’s not for God.


[1] An act of selflessness originates from and is done out of conscience, the goodness within. I believe that such acts do not result from chance or coincidence but are miracles. When a miracle that is factually substantiated and corresponds to a selfless act and is being judged to be heroic, then what was once goodness in its purest form has been reduced to heroism, a secular concept that is often further cheapened by profit motives, rankings and trophies that are handed out under media's spotlight, pomp and circumstance. (Footnote added on March 1, 2012.)

A Lesson In Writing

Oddly enough, my most memorable lesson in writing I had learned from physics teacher. That was decades ago when I was still in high school. Fr. Eugene said to write well, I had to write every day.

Every day? What was I supposed to write? Of course I did not do what he asked. It was not possible. I had nothing to write about.

Decades later, Fr. Eugene's one sentence writing lesson is being taken to heart. I finally understand what he meant. He was right. To write well, I have to write, and write and write. Writing does not come easy for me, these paragraphs included. If it did, I might find it boring very quickly, but I will never know.

Fr. Eugene Lauer, O.S.B, had the curiosity of a child and the patience of a seasoned fisherman. He was the best teacher I have ever had even though I really never learned physics, and still hate the subject.

Thank you for all the special lessons and the infinite patience you had given me, Fr. Eugene. Hope to join you in heaven one day. Pray for me.

Writing Frees Me

I am lost in a space with volume but without shape and lose track of time but not consciousness of a timeless existence. I no longer feel an obligation to conform to cultural traditions or societal expectations, or walk in lockstep with life’s clock. When writing, I am entirely free to create whatever that happens to be in my thoughts.

These days, more thoughts go through my head than I have time to capture and examine them and put them into words. There have been times when nothing comes to mind, and the periods between inspirations have ranged from days to years.

I wish I could abandon the confines of my life and the ways I am expected to live it, and ensconce myself somewhere to be enveloped by the grand expanse of nature and kissed by its beauty.

And so I dream. In this space it is possible, from this timeless moment to an endless time.

A Happy Moment of Realization – September 17, 2011

It happened earlier this evening. I was finally able to accept fully that I do have a passion in life, a passion to write. Knowing that I do not have to die without a passion has diminished two of my death’s fears, the purposelessness and uselessness of my existence. It was a happy moment.

No event contributed to or reinforced this realization. No award, no compliment or no delusion that I was talented. The satisfaction came because I had received permission to own my passion, a gift from God, one for me to work on continually so that I can bring it home more polished than when it was given, to show what was gifted was not given in vain.