Thursday, June 10, 2010
new perspectives
Sa Kanyang Paglisan
Sunday, January 31, 2010 at 9:02am
Sabi nila maikli lang ang buhay, at ang bawat araw na imulat natin ang ating mga mata, ibig sabihin, ay isang araw ng bagong biyaya.
Umiikot ang mundo, para sa akin, para sa ating lahat. Pero paano sa mga taong minamahal natin na nauna nang lumisan? Na nawalan na ng pagkakataon na makaranas ng maraming pagbabago sa hinaharap?
Tayo na naiwanan na makakaramdam ng malaking pagkawala, sa isang malalim na puwang na iniwan ng isang taong pinaghatian ng mga pangako sa isa't-isa, ng tuwa, ng luha, ng pag-ibig, at ng sanlaksang pag-asa; paano tayo hahakbang ng matuwid, gaya ng dati? Parang nawalan ng balanse, ng isang makabuluhang panimbang ang parte ng buhay natin sa ganang di inaasahang paglisan ng mahal sa buhay...
Luluha tayo, magtatanong sa ating sarili, ano ba ang gustong iparating ng Panginoong Maykapal sa atin, kung bakit ipinahintulot niya ang ganitong trahedya. Maghahanap tayo ng makakapitan para man lang makahanap ng pang ibsan sa hapdi ng pagkawala ng ating mahal. Marubdob tayong magdarasal para sa kapayapaan ng pag-iisip, at masigasig na hahanap ng paraan upang mapanatiling maalab ang alaala ng lumisan sa ating mga puso.
Titingin tayo sa ating paligid, at makikita ang dagat ng tao, at sa kanilang mga mata ay maaninag natin na nakikidalamhati at nakikiramay din sila sa atin. Mararamdaman natin, na hindi lang pala tayo ang nawalan, na hindi lang pala tayo ang lubhang nalungkot. Kasama din sila.
At saka lang natin mapagtatanto na makakabangon din pala tayo, sapagkat marami ang handang tumulong, at mas malapit lang pala ang Diyos kaysa sa inaasahan.
Kahit ba hindi natin maiwaksi ng buong-buo ang sakit, at kahit pa hindi ito mapag hihilom ng matagal na panahon, ibig sabihin lamang na ang bumigkis sa atin ay pag-ibig sa lumisan. Ipagpapalit mo ba ito? Hindi, dahil babaunin natin ang damdaming ito, hanggang sa tayo na rin ay lumisan.
Para kay Tey, at sa kanyang Pamilya
Sabi nila maikli lang ang buhay, at ang bawat araw na imulat natin ang ating mga mata, ibig sabihin, ay isang araw ng bagong biyaya.
Umiikot ang mundo, para sa akin, para sa ating lahat. Pero paano sa mga taong minamahal natin na nauna nang lumisan? Na nawalan na ng pagkakataon na makaranas ng maraming pagbabago sa hinaharap?
Tayo na naiwanan na makakaramdam ng malaking pagkawala, sa isang malalim na puwang na iniwan ng isang taong pinaghatian ng mga pangako sa isa't-isa, ng tuwa, ng luha, ng pag-ibig, at ng sanlaksang pag-asa; paano tayo hahakbang ng matuwid, gaya ng dati? Parang nawalan ng balanse, ng isang makabuluhang panimbang ang parte ng buhay natin sa ganang di inaasahang paglisan ng mahal sa buhay...
Luluha tayo, magtatanong sa ating sarili, ano ba ang gustong iparating ng Panginoong Maykapal sa atin, kung bakit ipinahintulot niya ang ganitong trahedya. Maghahanap tayo ng makakapitan para man lang makahanap ng pang ibsan sa hapdi ng pagkawala ng ating mahal. Marubdob tayong magdarasal para sa kapayapaan ng pag-iisip, at masigasig na hahanap ng paraan upang mapanatiling maalab ang alaala ng lumisan sa ating mga puso.
Titingin tayo sa ating paligid, at makikita ang dagat ng tao, at sa kanilang mga mata ay maaninag natin na nakikidalamhati at nakikiramay din sila sa atin. Mararamdaman natin, na hindi lang pala tayo ang nawalan, na hindi lang pala tayo ang lubhang nalungkot. Kasama din sila.
At saka lang natin mapagtatanto na makakabangon din pala tayo, sapagkat marami ang handang tumulong, at mas malapit lang pala ang Diyos kaysa sa inaasahan.
Kahit ba hindi natin maiwaksi ng buong-buo ang sakit, at kahit pa hindi ito mapag hihilom ng matagal na panahon, ibig sabihin lamang na ang bumigkis sa atin ay pag-ibig sa lumisan. Ipagpapalit mo ba ito? Hindi, dahil babaunin natin ang damdaming ito, hanggang sa tayo na rin ay lumisan.
Para kay Tey, at sa kanyang Pamilya
Point of Contention
Monday, September 14, 2009 at 12:07am
On several occasions I have been invited to dine out with a couple of friends. The gracious hostess always happy to shoulder all the expenses will let us order whatever we want to eat.
I’ve been asked many times for suggestions of where to eat. There are no restaurants that offer fine dining in my area, but we have the more popular mid-range Chinese, fastfood and Filipino restos and pizza parlors. Still, unlike the Manila metropolis, choices are very limited.
On two instances, from two different pizza parlors, I have requested for tomato ketchup. And on each time, I’ve been frowned upon and verbally reprimanded by my host. A restaurateur herself, she’d tell me that had she been the one making the pizza (what she ordered for us) and hear me ask for that offending condiment, she’d feel insulted and this might compel her to throw me out of the resto.
At this point, I just laughed, and told her not to be silly. She was joking of course, but there is a ring of seriousness in her voice. So I said, what’s the big deal? The pizza parlor (which is a foreign company) is made for the masses who can afford to dine in. If I asked for ketchup, the management has no right to complain, because I am paying for it (though in this instance she was). I did not damage any of their utensils, I did not make any dramatic fits, nor did I bother the other customers, I just asked for the damn ketchup. I did not say that the pizza was not good; I just want to put more ketchup on it.
So my friend told me, “it was supposed to taste that way”. Fine then, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have the condiment. Human tongue is not supposed to be generic. Although chili peppers may be universally regarded as hot, some people (or culture) would prefer their food to have a bit more of it (like our Mexican brothers) than others. So yes, In US the pizza is supposed to taste that way, but I’m in the Philippines, and my Filipino tongue is telling me that the pizza is not sweet enough. If in Italy, the spaghetti is not supposed to be smothered in sauce and cheese, my Filipino tongue is saying that it’s not sweet enough, and it’s too sour for my palate. Nevermind those snobbish “cultured” folks who thought nothing but to judge those who didn’t know “how to eat” because in the end, whatever you put in your mouth will just be flushed in the toilet the next day, which is also true with the pampered buns of the rich folks.
Pass the ketchup over here please.
On several occasions I have been invited to dine out with a couple of friends. The gracious hostess always happy to shoulder all the expenses will let us order whatever we want to eat.
I’ve been asked many times for suggestions of where to eat. There are no restaurants that offer fine dining in my area, but we have the more popular mid-range Chinese, fastfood and Filipino restos and pizza parlors. Still, unlike the Manila metropolis, choices are very limited.
On two instances, from two different pizza parlors, I have requested for tomato ketchup. And on each time, I’ve been frowned upon and verbally reprimanded by my host. A restaurateur herself, she’d tell me that had she been the one making the pizza (what she ordered for us) and hear me ask for that offending condiment, she’d feel insulted and this might compel her to throw me out of the resto.
At this point, I just laughed, and told her not to be silly. She was joking of course, but there is a ring of seriousness in her voice. So I said, what’s the big deal? The pizza parlor (which is a foreign company) is made for the masses who can afford to dine in. If I asked for ketchup, the management has no right to complain, because I am paying for it (though in this instance she was). I did not damage any of their utensils, I did not make any dramatic fits, nor did I bother the other customers, I just asked for the damn ketchup. I did not say that the pizza was not good; I just want to put more ketchup on it.
So my friend told me, “it was supposed to taste that way”. Fine then, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have the condiment. Human tongue is not supposed to be generic. Although chili peppers may be universally regarded as hot, some people (or culture) would prefer their food to have a bit more of it (like our Mexican brothers) than others. So yes, In US the pizza is supposed to taste that way, but I’m in the Philippines, and my Filipino tongue is telling me that the pizza is not sweet enough. If in Italy, the spaghetti is not supposed to be smothered in sauce and cheese, my Filipino tongue is saying that it’s not sweet enough, and it’s too sour for my palate. Nevermind those snobbish “cultured” folks who thought nothing but to judge those who didn’t know “how to eat” because in the end, whatever you put in your mouth will just be flushed in the toilet the next day, which is also true with the pampered buns of the rich folks.
Pass the ketchup over here please.
Good soup
Monday, September 14, 2009 at 12:12am
I’ve been quite unwell these past few weeks. The weather was really stifling hot, so it took a toll upon my overall well-being. I started having fits of cough, and my energies got easily sapped. And then the weather took for a sudden turn. It’s gotten all wet. With everything pretty damp, and the skies drearily dark and depressing my coughing just got worse.
Two weeks ago I had to go to Baguio where the weather always expresses its most extreme take of things. The place has its endless gust of mists and fog. I was there because I had to take my English Exams. I was coughing all the time, firstly because the air was so thin it made my throat dry, and secondly the air has been so thickly polluted of late that it was sheer effort to breathe for someone coming from the lowlands. I stayed in a neighborhood where there isn’t much transportation, but still, you can smell the soot that’s coming from the busier roads uphill. In the evenings and in the very early hours of the morning, visibility was almost nil.
It was the dragon’s breath, the fog. I couldn’t see the scattered residential houses that are readily viewed from my side of the mountain. All I could see was the tree tops of the pines. Perhaps, it was bad timing. Storm has settled itself in Baguio quite comfortably, and it bestowed violent winds and frequent rain showers. The fog circled and playfully billowed like the disturbed sea amidst a squall.
From my previous experience there in Baguio, which was 3 years ago, I had an enjoyable time that it made me really want to go back. 3 weeks ago was a disappointing expedition of sorts. It was painfully sad and rainy. The feeling was only partly alleviated by one of my friends, who happened to be a roommate.
I would have opted to just stay inside the room had it not for the necessity of eating and buying some stuff I’ll need to use for my three days there. I was in fetal position draped in thick blankets (which I eventually gave up using because it made me sweat pretty bad thrice in one night, I used thinner sheets and it worked like miracle), while talking with Marlo, and just swapping sms with a friend in Tarlac for the most part of the day.
My second evening there, the storm was still raging outside. The rain stopped though. Marlo invited me to go out and have dinner. I was not in the mood, and I told him that. Besides, food in Baguio isn’t really something I’d recommend to everyone I know (Apologies, just a matter of opinion). I was convinced finally, and with much gusto, when he said that there was a Kapampangan Eatery where they make a good pinapaitan.
It only took me a few minutes to stand up and get all prepared. It was no longer raining, but we still borrowed two umbrellas just in case. Marlo said that the Eatery was nearby. It turned out that we each had a very different version of what nearby is. Halfway, the skies poured down all its rage as it rained heavily, and we had to scour for a shelter, which we fortunately found in a closed sari-sari store. We stood there for the next 20 minutes. We were hungry and very cold. We were also wet from the knee down.
The rain wasn’t showing any signs of stopping so we just decided to risk getting wet all over. I was worried my umbrella might not withstand the strong winds, but it surprisingly held. When we reached the Eatery, I was out of breath. The path was uneven, that as we reached the main road, it went all steeply uphill.
It was all worth it. The papaitan was so deliciously good. It didn’t smell funny, and it was served hot. I savored every bite and I chewed with renewed energy. Outside, the storm relentlessly blew, but I didn’t care.
I was in a good mood after that, and had a small chat with the Owner. She’s your typical Kapampangan who loves to entertain everybody. She talked about her son who’s taking a medical course in Pampanga, and that she has regulars coming from the review center.
It was quite a while when we noticed that outside, it was blissfully quiet, and the wind has died down. I invited Marlo to head back home as I thanked the owner, Atching Perla, for treating us as guests and entertaining us.
Settled in my bed that night, I prayed that the next day the storm should be out of Baguio. I think God took pity upon me. The next day was sunny, albeit freezing cold.
Marlo was already up and preparing to head for the CG reviews when he just opted to not go and help Kris (Our common friend’s-Benjo [though my bestfriend]- sister)look for a place to stay for a month or so. I went for a stroll in session. The storm had its own purpose, other than making Baguio’s roads wet and dirtily chaotic. For the first time since I arrived, I smelled fresh air. The storm chased the noxious fumes away. I was breathing easier.
Pity that in the afternoon, it was time for me to go back in Tarlac. Still coughing a bit though.
I’ve been quite unwell these past few weeks. The weather was really stifling hot, so it took a toll upon my overall well-being. I started having fits of cough, and my energies got easily sapped. And then the weather took for a sudden turn. It’s gotten all wet. With everything pretty damp, and the skies drearily dark and depressing my coughing just got worse.
Two weeks ago I had to go to Baguio where the weather always expresses its most extreme take of things. The place has its endless gust of mists and fog. I was there because I had to take my English Exams. I was coughing all the time, firstly because the air was so thin it made my throat dry, and secondly the air has been so thickly polluted of late that it was sheer effort to breathe for someone coming from the lowlands. I stayed in a neighborhood where there isn’t much transportation, but still, you can smell the soot that’s coming from the busier roads uphill. In the evenings and in the very early hours of the morning, visibility was almost nil.
It was the dragon’s breath, the fog. I couldn’t see the scattered residential houses that are readily viewed from my side of the mountain. All I could see was the tree tops of the pines. Perhaps, it was bad timing. Storm has settled itself in Baguio quite comfortably, and it bestowed violent winds and frequent rain showers. The fog circled and playfully billowed like the disturbed sea amidst a squall.
From my previous experience there in Baguio, which was 3 years ago, I had an enjoyable time that it made me really want to go back. 3 weeks ago was a disappointing expedition of sorts. It was painfully sad and rainy. The feeling was only partly alleviated by one of my friends, who happened to be a roommate.
I would have opted to just stay inside the room had it not for the necessity of eating and buying some stuff I’ll need to use for my three days there. I was in fetal position draped in thick blankets (which I eventually gave up using because it made me sweat pretty bad thrice in one night, I used thinner sheets and it worked like miracle), while talking with Marlo, and just swapping sms with a friend in Tarlac for the most part of the day.
My second evening there, the storm was still raging outside. The rain stopped though. Marlo invited me to go out and have dinner. I was not in the mood, and I told him that. Besides, food in Baguio isn’t really something I’d recommend to everyone I know (Apologies, just a matter of opinion). I was convinced finally, and with much gusto, when he said that there was a Kapampangan Eatery where they make a good pinapaitan.
It only took me a few minutes to stand up and get all prepared. It was no longer raining, but we still borrowed two umbrellas just in case. Marlo said that the Eatery was nearby. It turned out that we each had a very different version of what nearby is. Halfway, the skies poured down all its rage as it rained heavily, and we had to scour for a shelter, which we fortunately found in a closed sari-sari store. We stood there for the next 20 minutes. We were hungry and very cold. We were also wet from the knee down.
The rain wasn’t showing any signs of stopping so we just decided to risk getting wet all over. I was worried my umbrella might not withstand the strong winds, but it surprisingly held. When we reached the Eatery, I was out of breath. The path was uneven, that as we reached the main road, it went all steeply uphill.
It was all worth it. The papaitan was so deliciously good. It didn’t smell funny, and it was served hot. I savored every bite and I chewed with renewed energy. Outside, the storm relentlessly blew, but I didn’t care.
I was in a good mood after that, and had a small chat with the Owner. She’s your typical Kapampangan who loves to entertain everybody. She talked about her son who’s taking a medical course in Pampanga, and that she has regulars coming from the review center.
It was quite a while when we noticed that outside, it was blissfully quiet, and the wind has died down. I invited Marlo to head back home as I thanked the owner, Atching Perla, for treating us as guests and entertaining us.
Settled in my bed that night, I prayed that the next day the storm should be out of Baguio. I think God took pity upon me. The next day was sunny, albeit freezing cold.
Marlo was already up and preparing to head for the CG reviews when he just opted to not go and help Kris (Our common friend’s-Benjo [though my bestfriend]- sister)look for a place to stay for a month or so. I went for a stroll in session. The storm had its own purpose, other than making Baguio’s roads wet and dirtily chaotic. For the first time since I arrived, I smelled fresh air. The storm chased the noxious fumes away. I was breathing easier.
Pity that in the afternoon, it was time for me to go back in Tarlac. Still coughing a bit though.
The Morphing
Monday, September 14, 2009 at 12:17am
There are signs. Yet, if truth be told, closeness blinds the eye more than any reasons known to men. If closeness doesn’t blind one, it certainly dents the ability to objectify situations as the need arises.
But I’d like to contradict myself, which is what I often do. Closeness gives you that zone of comfort towards another person, so you trust that person to remain constant towards you, or at least always be true to what he was before. But change happens. It’s not always bad, even if that person drifts away from you. Even if the tie that binds you together is somewhat severed. It happens.
What’s terribly sad is if that person turns into totally someone different, where the last vestige of his old person has been buried deep into layer after layer of experience. The only remaining trace of his previous self is his face and his name.
Of tantamount significance are the positive qualities which he has lost along the way. His humility, his kindness and all that made him a veritably kind person has been replaced by a very proud, steely visage of monstrosity.
Whereas before, he’d take an advice to heart without taking grudges, now he deflects words of kindness with outbursts of vituperation and readily accuses anyone of stupidity when his will is challenged. He no longer feels compassion towards his family, and his friends.
He is only driven to be kind to those who he feels will suit his lifestyle, and those who will make his life materially better. Where before, he smiles with patience towards the mistakes of his brothers, now he scoffs at them and pummels them with verbal lashings only heard in the slums.
His only obligation now is not for his family, but for his own sake.
But all is not lost. He still feels enough love towards his parents, though he sows resentment towards them.
So sad, terribly sad.
There are signs. Yet, if truth be told, closeness blinds the eye more than any reasons known to men. If closeness doesn’t blind one, it certainly dents the ability to objectify situations as the need arises.
But I’d like to contradict myself, which is what I often do. Closeness gives you that zone of comfort towards another person, so you trust that person to remain constant towards you, or at least always be true to what he was before. But change happens. It’s not always bad, even if that person drifts away from you. Even if the tie that binds you together is somewhat severed. It happens.
What’s terribly sad is if that person turns into totally someone different, where the last vestige of his old person has been buried deep into layer after layer of experience. The only remaining trace of his previous self is his face and his name.
Of tantamount significance are the positive qualities which he has lost along the way. His humility, his kindness and all that made him a veritably kind person has been replaced by a very proud, steely visage of monstrosity.
Whereas before, he’d take an advice to heart without taking grudges, now he deflects words of kindness with outbursts of vituperation and readily accuses anyone of stupidity when his will is challenged. He no longer feels compassion towards his family, and his friends.
He is only driven to be kind to those who he feels will suit his lifestyle, and those who will make his life materially better. Where before, he smiles with patience towards the mistakes of his brothers, now he scoffs at them and pummels them with verbal lashings only heard in the slums.
His only obligation now is not for his family, but for his own sake.
But all is not lost. He still feels enough love towards his parents, though he sows resentment towards them.
So sad, terribly sad.
On the act of Indolence
Monday, September 14, 2009 at 12:27am
So it seems that there may be an unwholesome truth to the fact that more evil is produced by the state of deliberate lethargy. It becomes lethal to the conscience to be dictated by the steady stream of weakening will-power.
When I say lethal, I pertain to the purest and most innocent thoughts being continually poisoned by darkness, and if one is not accustomed to solitude, then there is a great possibility to dwell into a long standing depression and self-pity.
It may also be true that there is a complete departure from the cheerful attitude that one is usually apt to have. It is in my understanding that weather contributes to a certain extent in the feeling of powerlessness and doom. When there is a sign of a damp weather, and it darkens as the skies are overcast with heavy clouds, human psyche takes the heavy toll by being bombarded by loneliness and some other portent sensations of heaviness.
So it seems that there may be an unwholesome truth to the fact that more evil is produced by the state of deliberate lethargy. It becomes lethal to the conscience to be dictated by the steady stream of weakening will-power.
When I say lethal, I pertain to the purest and most innocent thoughts being continually poisoned by darkness, and if one is not accustomed to solitude, then there is a great possibility to dwell into a long standing depression and self-pity.
It may also be true that there is a complete departure from the cheerful attitude that one is usually apt to have. It is in my understanding that weather contributes to a certain extent in the feeling of powerlessness and doom. When there is a sign of a damp weather, and it darkens as the skies are overcast with heavy clouds, human psyche takes the heavy toll by being bombarded by loneliness and some other portent sensations of heaviness.
Hannibal Talking
My Dear Will,
You must be healed by now, on the outside at least, I hope you're not too ugly.
What a collection of scars you have (!)
Never forget who gave you the best of them, and be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.
We live in a primitive society don't we Will?
Neither savage nor wise. Half measures are the curse of it.
Any rational society would either kill me or put me to some use.
Do you dream much Will?
I think of you often...
Your old friend,
Hannibal Lecter
You must be healed by now, on the outside at least, I hope you're not too ugly.
What a collection of scars you have (!)
Never forget who gave you the best of them, and be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.
We live in a primitive society don't we Will?
Neither savage nor wise. Half measures are the curse of it.
Any rational society would either kill me or put me to some use.
Do you dream much Will?
I think of you often...
Your old friend,
Hannibal Lecter
Ramblings of a Hard Knox stude
Foiled well meaning plans makes me think that life is out there to get me. I think this has long been discovered by those people in the looney, they knew about it, got stuck with the thought and abandoned their sanity.
My plans are on queue. I'm borrowing that word from an e-mail correspondence I had this morning. The future, my future, is slowly but surely becoming a cloudy smoke of uncertainty. Hope right now to me is just an ontological curiosity. When things get bad, they turn for the worse. Faith I have, and hope too. I think they are in a place where I can't see them right now. I have very confusing thoughts as well, and feelings. I dread the mornings, but I also anticipate them. Failed expectations do that. Everyday I'd wake up praying each day will be better than yesterday, either that it won't suck as much or a good news will remind me that life still smiles upon my poor old me.
Questions drum in my mind, "Did I make a hasty move?, Do I have regrets with the decisions I made?, did I do the right thing?", by putting it bluntly, did I screw up big time? Oh dear Lord, I hope not-(hmm, was that a prayerful expression?)
What I'm most scared about is my life spinning out of control. I don't know what's going to happen, and I don't know what to expect. I feel like a kid whose favorite toy has been snatched forcibly from his hands not knowing when it's gonna be given back. I don't like the waiting, time for me is either too short or too long, and that's one hell of a perspective.
This is frustration. A big one, and it's been building up for months. I heard someone say that we don't actually get what we deserve, we just... get. I wonder if that makes sense...
(will continue)
My plans are on queue. I'm borrowing that word from an e-mail correspondence I had this morning. The future, my future, is slowly but surely becoming a cloudy smoke of uncertainty. Hope right now to me is just an ontological curiosity. When things get bad, they turn for the worse. Faith I have, and hope too. I think they are in a place where I can't see them right now. I have very confusing thoughts as well, and feelings. I dread the mornings, but I also anticipate them. Failed expectations do that. Everyday I'd wake up praying each day will be better than yesterday, either that it won't suck as much or a good news will remind me that life still smiles upon my poor old me.
Questions drum in my mind, "Did I make a hasty move?, Do I have regrets with the decisions I made?, did I do the right thing?", by putting it bluntly, did I screw up big time? Oh dear Lord, I hope not-(hmm, was that a prayerful expression?)
What I'm most scared about is my life spinning out of control. I don't know what's going to happen, and I don't know what to expect. I feel like a kid whose favorite toy has been snatched forcibly from his hands not knowing when it's gonna be given back. I don't like the waiting, time for me is either too short or too long, and that's one hell of a perspective.
This is frustration. A big one, and it's been building up for months. I heard someone say that we don't actually get what we deserve, we just... get. I wonder if that makes sense...
(will continue)
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Decadence
Decadence is everywhere. But we thrive in it. That is what's so sad about it. We have this universal deathwish waiting, in our bedroom, in our living room, in the bus, when we go out with friends, when we go about our everyday business. It just is a very part of us that it has clung and seeped into the very pore of our humanity and we don't even care.
It must have been there, unleashed from Pandora's Box when the serpent urged and seduced Adam and Eve to eat the very apple that caused the existence of their descendants. Or maybe it has been there even upon the contemplation of Divine Providence when He created humans in His own likeness.
Yes Decadence, a fall from grace. For why would He, in all his sacred Infallibility, put down rules of dos and don'ts when Adam and Eve first came into life? If we say it is to test them, then they are with weakness, that is decadence. For perfection has no such need for exhaustive examinations to know of its soundness and durable faith. To be human might have been to be decadent, so often that saints have to strive for perfection, their very might and weapon, is goodwill, but in return, the very energies that they have are drained in warding off the temptations, that is their endless torment. That very pain, the very suffering is a form of decadence.
To be good, you must endure. But that trial is pitted with so much decadence. There is always a sacrifice. With spiritual perfection, we sometimes have to undergo physical corruption, but priests and monks would so often call it cleansing. Fasting, walking barefoot, self-flogging...The pain, yes that is a form of decadence. With physical perfection, you fall prey to spiritual corruption. Vanity, lust and the very essence of hedonism dims your conscience and even pushes you further to say "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you will die", and you wouldn't care, even if God's very lightning strikes you, because you have become langurously drowned with wine and/or some other carnal pleasures...
Decadence, that is, imperfection, it has two faces, it has two sides, but both will turn against you.
It must have been there, unleashed from Pandora's Box when the serpent urged and seduced Adam and Eve to eat the very apple that caused the existence of their descendants. Or maybe it has been there even upon the contemplation of Divine Providence when He created humans in His own likeness.
Yes Decadence, a fall from grace. For why would He, in all his sacred Infallibility, put down rules of dos and don'ts when Adam and Eve first came into life? If we say it is to test them, then they are with weakness, that is decadence. For perfection has no such need for exhaustive examinations to know of its soundness and durable faith. To be human might have been to be decadent, so often that saints have to strive for perfection, their very might and weapon, is goodwill, but in return, the very energies that they have are drained in warding off the temptations, that is their endless torment. That very pain, the very suffering is a form of decadence.
To be good, you must endure. But that trial is pitted with so much decadence. There is always a sacrifice. With spiritual perfection, we sometimes have to undergo physical corruption, but priests and monks would so often call it cleansing. Fasting, walking barefoot, self-flogging...The pain, yes that is a form of decadence. With physical perfection, you fall prey to spiritual corruption. Vanity, lust and the very essence of hedonism dims your conscience and even pushes you further to say "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you will die", and you wouldn't care, even if God's very lightning strikes you, because you have become langurously drowned with wine and/or some other carnal pleasures...
Decadence, that is, imperfection, it has two faces, it has two sides, but both will turn against you.
