Musings: when letting the mind run free and wild

 

The current Pope started his Papacy with great fanfare and expectations, and at the beginning he did not disappoint.  The essay below spoke of those first months of his tenure.

a’ Kempis (of Imitation of Christ renown) repeatedly reminded his readers not to play favorites with the saints and holy men of the Church.  It is sufficient for our purposes to acknowledge and be inspired by their exemplary lives lived in the service and worship of God.  Remember we have a very jealous God that will not countenance any competition with regard to worship.

In the case of the current Pope, many of us may have to re-think our thoughts about him, especially with regard to his holiness and righteousness.

And this might reveal how we ought to regard him based on what is impliedly coming from him.  Many devotees who have gotten near him and have been blessed by him have reported that in return and in parting the Pope is wont to offer the request that we also pray for him.  And many have been dumbfounded by this reaction.

But it is quite obvious.  Many come to him to ask for his blessings and prayer.  In return his parting word is his subtle way of telling these people that they are in the same boat with him, subject to the same flaws and vicissitudes.  Thus, if we ask for prayer and blessing from a fellow human, then we ought to return that favor by also praying for him.

As simple as that.

                                                                    000000000000000

                                                                       911 DIRGE

Words rush out of our mouths, like cascading river.

Never forget, never forget this horrible day.

Almost mindless and robot-like we continue to roar.

Always remind, always remember this fateful day.

Memory should be permanently ingrained in our minds.

Death and destruction wrought on a hapless nation.

When all it did was lived its daily life, unheeding.

Unmindful and not wishing anyone any ill will.

But we pause to ask: Why so, did it deserve its fate?

Did it inflict harm to its own, and thus feel remorse?

But no such thing happened, or is inferred as such.

Its reply to this revealed the nation's raw intent.

The loud answer shouted out what the real reason was.

Not to forget and forgive for retribution is coming.

And indeed such came in haste and in succession.

And the world has not forgotten nor will it forget.

Yet we continue our chants, never forget, never forget.

And we drone in cadence, each time the day draws nigh.

Yet we continue in our merry ways, unheeding the signs.

The signs that will bring the same dreaded aftermath.

The country continues to install rulers reflecting that.

The words from  mouths not synching what is in the heart.

Rendering then the yearly exercise pointless as can be?

So then we be quiet and proceed in our wayward ways?

Fate be the anointed guide and decider of the future grim.

At least we act true to what we have become as humanity.

Unheeding to old ideals that ought rule our daily lives.

To say Amen so long as we are aligned to kin and kith.

                                                              0000000000000000000

                                                         Ways of Winning and Losing

Listened to both post-game interviews of the 2 good-looking losers in the semi-finals of the WTA US Open.

They did appear humbled by the 2 smiling and light-hearted victors, who appeared enjoying themselves not only with their many wins, but being thrust into the wild and noisy world stage.

When asked about their losses, one like throwing up her arms conceded that the youngster could not do anything wrong in her game.  The other said because she did not play her best.  Why not because the other players showed better than their best?  C'mon.

Also, they thought the youngsters won because they were fearless and had nothing to lose.

Huh?  Were they not that young before?  Maybe just 5-6 years ago?

A youngster pushed into that lion's den and having no fears?  Nothing to lose?  Most of us would not be able to control the shaking in our legs and bodies.

OF STRANGE DREAMS OF FEAR AND ANXIETY

All through life I have always had strange recurring dreams, but of late some are just too pronounced and demanding it becomes difficult not to take notice.  And over time I have written about such dreams, wanting to learn more about them.   Now it is postulated by some learned sources that dreams could actually be realities in a different dimension.

One such reverie occurred last night and thus thought it right to commit to writing at the first opportunity. Some familiar hallmarks do for me instigate such dreams to occur and this particular night was one such occasion.

I was just about ready to call it a day, after I had been physically drained by the yardwork I completed a few hours earlier.  And this coupled by the fact that the Internet was down due to maintenance work of the provider.  So I was just about ready to bed before 9 pm, after a hard day's work.

The dream materialized even before the hour turned to midnight.  It commenced this way.

For some unexplainable reason I still continue to work with the Westin St. Francis Hotel, though I had much earlier retired from it after 20 years of employment.  I thus find myself still working alone doing the IT work I had done prior to retirement.

And because dreams never typically follow the proper time sequence in real life, this narration will be one such example, jumping in time every which way.

So first I find myself looking for the room where former President George W. Bush is billeted and as is wont in similar dreams in the past I have difficulty negotiating through corridors, elevators, function rooms, etc. looking for the suite that I thought he would be in. And like past dreams, I find myself unable to find the right room.

Then the dream brings me back earlier, when I am inside that huge and dark wood-paneled room with the former president and another white-haired person that later I would recognize as being part of hotel security.  They were playing tennis inside that huge room, though at times it would turn to badminton.  On one side of the court was a big tree located near the baseline.  And so watching the game I placed myself beside the tree. But was told to step back because the tree was inside the court, which I did.  Then a little later, the white-haired person tells me that he had a good 15-minute workout playing tennis and badminton in which I remarked that I would have had a hard time doing what he did.

Then I find myself anxious in bed covering myself with a crumpled white sheet, with the former president beside me in another bed, and he is trying to placate  me, not to worry because my two bags will be given back to me in due time. In the dream, the 2 little bags are those I typically carried with me to work, with personal items in them, like my devotional books, my daily journal, and the usual clutter of pens and pencils, keys, etc. and at times extra clothing since at times after work I would change in the car and walked or jogged along the downtown area of San Francisco.

Anyway, he assures me that the bag will be returned, including some stuff that he would give me for my children.  It is then when I realize that I could be in danger, leaving behind in his room what could possibly be used to hurt him.  Maybe a bomb?  So my mind started racing about what things I may have in those two bags.  I recall that Bush was telling me that he liked one bag, which he described as a "tartanilla" bag and I said that old leather bag which looked a bit like a satchel  was given by my father, which bag when he was still using it contained all documents of his case load.  I then started to cry, though he gave assurance that nothing would happen to me.

At this juncture, I woke up staring at the darkness in the room, and my mind continued racing, this time about real things that happened to me.

I then thought about the time as a kid maybe of 8 or 9 when my father brought me with him to the town of Dansalan, in Lanao, where Muslims lived.  Riding his jeep we traveled to the place which is some 130 kilometers going west from our place. He had brought along his "porfolio" a small leather bag that contained his legal documents, and I was tasked to carry it around for him.  I do not recall any more companion with us, nor any conversation we may have had.  But I recall that reaching the place, there was a small coterie of people waiting and watching.  My father breaks through the crowd and enters the one-storey building where the legal case was supposed to be heard.  I left him with his bag and got back to the jeep outside, while the people milling around were all sucked inside.  Then nothing else.

Next my mind got into another occasion when I again rode the jeep of my father as his companion, this time there were other people and  luggage with me.  I was seated at the back on one side where a bare metal bench was. Nothing more than part of the frame of the jeep.  Facing forward, I had my feet raised on the bench and had a good view of the outside.  We were traversing graveled roads on some mountainous areas.  A detail I find hard to forget was that the soil on the shoulders of the road was reddish in color like clay, which is quite different in color from the one we had in the lowland areas. I had thought then that we were travelling to places like Imbatug, or Talakag, or even Impalutao in Bukidnon.

Another memory that tried to crowd in was my extended trip with my maternal grandmother to the remote island of Culion, in Palawan.

This time I became pensive and reflective.  From these experiences it would appear that the adults in our family had assigned for me a special task in their lives - as a travelling companion.  And to bolster to that, I also recall instances in my childhood when I would also accompany my mother, doing things that seemed like a child had no proper part in it, like going to movies that had adult themes.

Reality beckons, so I stood up, flicked the light switch, and starting writing my memories. 

Fernanda Cabrera Osmena Velez

 

Fernanda Cabrera Osmena Velez

So this narrative will be preserved and archived in my blog.

https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=10159203705727348&set=a.84132687347

She was Fernanda Cabrera Osmena, who married Porfirio Velez. Her parents were Victoriano Osmena and Januaria Cabrera.

She was already elderly when I would stay with her or accompany her on trips. Her more prominent features were high cheekbones, long face, and droopy-eyed. So tried to recapture her image with those features at an earlier age.

My most intimate companionship with her was when as a little kid I accompanied her on a very extended vacation to the remote island of Culion, the leper colony. We stayed with the family of one of her married daughters.

She was most independent and regal in stature having lost her husband still in the 30s. She was quiet and withdrawn much like my own mother. Kept herself busy with her religious devotionals, and darning clothes in the most intricate fashion. I would watch her do this and be in awe at what she had done, like a little machine had done the work.