Last Wednesday, I was admitted to the state hospital soon after I finished breakfast or about twenty minutes. Or so dad would tell me. Apparently, I threw up and lost consciousness. I would wake up again at the emergency department trying to figure out what had happened and where I was. It was as if I wasn't there when all this happened. Even if I was discharged on Saturday, I remain in excruciating pain in my legs and back. It appears that my back had fractures caused by osteoporosis witch I developed later on in my early 20s due to treatment for another condition.
However, the details aren't that important. I found myself in hospital once again. My life, once more, interrupted. An unknown future ahead. Not that there's certainty with any future. But when such a 'violent awakening' occurs, I tend to stop and reflect on where my life is heading and what'll come of me if this will take a long time to improve.was I living the life that truly fulfilled who I was?
And there were I fear that, despite the pain of my current state, I realise that I long for more from life than the path I've chosen so far.a lingering sense of dissatisfaction and emptiness accompany these hours of pain. As if there's an aspect of who I am that I've tried to avoid. A silent calling of the soul. Greater than me and, yet, not foreign. I struggle as I try to express this feeling for language is limited and this state of mind seems to reside beyond language to begin with.
Inasmuch as writing has always provided me with refuge and sustenance in hard times in my life, such as this, i lack the strength to carry on with this entry. When I feel better, hopefully, I'll be in a clearer state of mind to relate to what is at the core of my deep longing.
Showing posts with label refuge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label refuge. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Longing for a Place to Call Home
It’s now almost a week now since I’ve been living in my new house. Yes, it’s still a ‘house’ to me for now. There have been different emotions that have emerged as if from a deep part of who I am. Even if I’m in a community setting, there’s still a sense of isolation and alienation. I am discovering that settling in isn’t an easy thing. I have doubts at times on whether I was prepared for this radical change. I find myself in a reality that I have to accept. A reality that I wish to deny but is one that I face every waking moment.
I find value in this opportunity as it made me realize that I need my personal space, silence and time to reflect and meditate. I like to socialize, mind you, but I am aware that I like to be on my own. Perhaps this reflects badly on me but I prefer to lead a quiet life and I certainly need some time alone. This, I feel, what still lacks in my new life. I may not be cut out for a community setting. This isn’t anyone’s failure, I know, and I will try to stay here and be open to this experience. I know that many have worked hard and still working to make this transition I success. I owe it to them to, at least, do my best.
However, today, I feel like a refugee, a man without a home. A restless soul seeking peace. The peace of a place to call home. I may need to adapt to my new life but there’s always that lingering sadness and a deep sense of abandonment. I trust that this feeling will one day cease as it is, like anything else in the cosmos, impermanent. I may have to be more willing to reach out to the others who are sharing this experience together with me. But, I admit, that I long for the moments when I have the time to meditate - just listening, just witness life that is unfolding in my presence.
I can’t expect anyone to relate to my need for a time to contemplate. I Know that in my active life, I am expected to be on the go and to react (rather than act). I need a time to reflect about my life - how I am here and where I wish to be. I can forget the past but also acknowledge the present that I’m living. For every day I am living, I am shaping the future. I must accept that it’s up to me whether to go on living this new life. Inasmuch as there are many things that I can’t control or choose in my life, ultimately, I remain responsible for my own future. A future, I hope, will lead me to further growth and happiness.,
Having said that, I still struggle with the feeling that I don’t belong here. A feeling that there’s an emptiness that rules my days. An uncertain future, hopes and dreams that have been crushed. A profound longing for a home that I never had and which, it seems,, I will never have. Like the ancient Hebrews during their exile in Babylon, I find myself thinking of the ‘promised land’.
1 By the rivers of Babylon,
there we sat down, yea, we wept,
when we remembered Zion.
2 We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
3 For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song;
and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying,
Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
4 How shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land?
Yet, in my case, this promised land of Zion is where I can truly express who I am. A place where I can find a silent place to manifest my full being. I still feel that I am in a strange land. I feel I don’t yet belong here. This may be a failing on my part. And, I will try to do my best to make it work. The only thing I can truly say is that time will tell. Experience will guide me in how to proceed.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
A Nomadic Life
In a few hours’ time, I’ll be returning back home from my summer house. By this time, I should get used to move back and forth between the two houses during the summer break. My family has been doing it almost every year since I was a child.
But this entry isn’t really about moving back to another house. It’s about home and its place in our life. For, throughout our lives, it appears to me that we’re searching for home where we find security. Where we are safe, uncomfortable and free from the problems of the world. Yet, I believe that although we think of “home” as a location in time and place, this isn’t the case.
Our lives is in a constant state of change. We may only guess that tomorrow things will be almost the same as usual but, in truth, tomorrow remains unknown. We may feel happy with our life right now and we do well to enjoy what we have. On the other hand, we must be careful not to base our happiness on what we have. No, not even get attached to our physical homes as there will be one day when we have to change everything.
And, when we lose what we had, we might discover an emptiness borne out of a false happiness. Indeed, even if we live in homes (if we’re lucky), a home remains a building of wood or stone. We’re the ones who imbue it with properties beyond itself.
I sometimes think of my life as a nomadic existence. I don’t know if you can understand. I have undergone radical changes in my life when I thought I had finally find fulfilment and happiness. I believed that change would lead me to a better life if I attained a goal or got a new gadget to play with. I found out that I had been misguided.
Like a nomad, I must learn that I will, one day, have to move on. Like a nomad, I need to find the strength and support to adapt to new realities. Like a nomad, I need to accept the fact that what I have can be snatched away from me without warning.
I confess that I share these thoughts because I know that soon I’ll be moving on once again from my winter home to another place. While I’m excited by the prospect of gaining more independence, there’s still a sadness and fear of moving on to an unknown place and to an unknown future.
Perhaps I need to recognise that I can only find true refuge in my heart and mind. That’s my home which I must dwell in until the moment of my death.
But this entry isn’t really about moving back to another house. It’s about home and its place in our life. For, throughout our lives, it appears to me that we’re searching for home where we find security. Where we are safe, uncomfortable and free from the problems of the world. Yet, I believe that although we think of “home” as a location in time and place, this isn’t the case.
Our lives is in a constant state of change. We may only guess that tomorrow things will be almost the same as usual but, in truth, tomorrow remains unknown. We may feel happy with our life right now and we do well to enjoy what we have. On the other hand, we must be careful not to base our happiness on what we have. No, not even get attached to our physical homes as there will be one day when we have to change everything.
And, when we lose what we had, we might discover an emptiness borne out of a false happiness. Indeed, even if we live in homes (if we’re lucky), a home remains a building of wood or stone. We’re the ones who imbue it with properties beyond itself.
I sometimes think of my life as a nomadic existence. I don’t know if you can understand. I have undergone radical changes in my life when I thought I had finally find fulfilment and happiness. I believed that change would lead me to a better life if I attained a goal or got a new gadget to play with. I found out that I had been misguided.
Like a nomad, I must learn that I will, one day, have to move on. Like a nomad, I need to find the strength and support to adapt to new realities. Like a nomad, I need to accept the fact that what I have can be snatched away from me without warning.
I confess that I share these thoughts because I know that soon I’ll be moving on once again from my winter home to another place. While I’m excited by the prospect of gaining more independence, there’s still a sadness and fear of moving on to an unknown place and to an unknown future.
Perhaps I need to recognise that I can only find true refuge in my heart and mind. That’s my home which I must dwell in until the moment of my death.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
A Forgotten Childhood?
As a young boy, I was curious to know about how the world worked. I also wanted to know what life was all about. I wanted to know to gain a kind of closure and some answers to the question of why I had an impairment, when other boys my age were considered “normal” and “healthy”. I just didn’t understand why the God the priests praised so much on the altar who was so kind and loving had punished me from birth. Surely, I had done something really awful. I was a bad child of God and had to accept my fate without question. Indeed, I needed to redeem myself. If I think about it, my impairment back then was not as severe as it is today. True, I couldn’t bend my legs straight and my gait, which was described by a doctor in one medical report was a “scissor’s gait” was close enough to reality. I could still walk and run at the time but still it bothered me that in spite of what I did, I was different in eyes of others.
With all good intentions, even those close to me wanted me to become “normal” and within a culture very influenced by religious sentimentality, I was prayed on and loved ones hoped for a “miracle” to happen. I was happy as a child but I was also unhappy. For whatever I did and any efforts I made I couldn’t become “normal”. Yes, that! What was more troubling was that I identified on some level with Satan. Hadn’t be also rejected from God and cast away to an eternal torment. But, unlike Satan, I was determined to return in God’s good books. But at around 8, I started experiencing the reality outside of the safety of the home. I met new people and different children. Many looked at me through their presumptions about my physical impairment and told me that I “inspired” them and given that troubling reassurance that I was bearing the “cross of Christ”. When I felt no different than other kids my age. But, in a way, I was.
The fact was that I was made to think. I dared to doubt. And, while a spiritual revolution was taking place in my mind, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate it in a way others could understand it. I sought refuge in trying to find answers beyond me. I wanted to knoW WHY. wHY HAD MY BROTHER DIED BEFORE I COULD GET TO KNOW HIM? Why I was born this way? Why was God angry at me? Was I a saint walking on the footsteps of Christ or a sinner bearing the torment of a banished hell angel? Yes, I was happy then. But there was always that foreknowing that this life will end. And then what will become of me? And was there a God any way? Or were we at the mercy of a God who was like those Greek gods I read in some of my books that toyed around with human BEINGS AS IF THEY WERE PAWNS ON CHESS BOARD?
I THOUGHT AND THOUGHT. DURING THOSE COLD WINTER NIGHTS WHEN I LOOKED WITH AWE AT THE DARK SKY TINTED WITH SILVER STARS. THE SAME STARS THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS HAD STUDIED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. THE SAME STARS THAT THE BIBLE SAYS HERALDED THE BIRTH OF THE JEWISH MESSIAH. THE SAME STARS THAT GUIDED SO MANY SEAFARERS. I was connected then with the past I shared with my ancestors. The same stars that were there at the beginning of the cosmos. The same stars but not yet the same. These are still stars that may not all be there today as their light takes millions of years to reach us. Stars are a connection with the past that is no longer there.
For a young boy, these thoughts were overwhelming. So many questions. So few answers. Many of which were incomplete or beyond my understanding. And yet, nobody in my life seemed to be asking why? People who claimed they were “people of faith” appeared to be interested in winning a place in heaven and saving their lives rather than living the spirit of love and compassion and reflecting on their lives. They weren’t asking about the wonders of this universe we find ourselves in. They weren’t asking themselves why they were the lucky ones to live on Earth in the first place.
But, yes, they were interested in making more money and searching for happiness in things that never lasted. Even their aspiration to gain heaven was motivated by a hope to experience pleasure and freedom from pain. Bt they forgot that heaven was now. What happens in the future is beyond our control. It’s only now that we can change the world. It’s only now that we can change ourselves. And, yes, I gradually became the adult I feared to become as a child. True, I tended to more open to different people because, I myself, had been judged simply for being different. Yet, many of those early attachments that I hoped to never acquire, I did acquire. So, I can’t really judge.
I may choose to go deeper into my past but I am restricted by time and space.I just wanted to share these memories as I keep growing in self-awareness. As I said in early posts, I am now on a journey of self-discovery. I am engaging more in Buddhist practice. I feel a sense of peace and happiness that I can’t really express using language. But, it’s there and it’s changing my life. For the better. I don’t expect for you to understand and I certainly don’t write to convert anyone to Buddhism and to take up a daily practice of meditation and mindfulness. I am just writing after reflecting on my own experience of life. At that, my experience of life is very limited when compared to the what one can experience in the longest of human lifetimes. It is also infinitesimal if you compare it to the age of the cosmos. But, yet, as insignificant as it might be, this life is really the only thing I have.
I end this entry here hoping. Hoping that tomorrow will come. That I will be still alive tomorrow. That the Earth will be here tomorrow. That those around me are still there with me. But there’s always the possibility of change. A change that isn’t necessarily bad but, at times, also necessary if we are to continue living. Yet, tomorrow remains only a hope and whether you’re a believer or non-believer, we all hold an irrational faith in a tomorrow.
With all good intentions, even those close to me wanted me to become “normal” and within a culture very influenced by religious sentimentality, I was prayed on and loved ones hoped for a “miracle” to happen. I was happy as a child but I was also unhappy. For whatever I did and any efforts I made I couldn’t become “normal”. Yes, that! What was more troubling was that I identified on some level with Satan. Hadn’t be also rejected from God and cast away to an eternal torment. But, unlike Satan, I was determined to return in God’s good books. But at around 8, I started experiencing the reality outside of the safety of the home. I met new people and different children. Many looked at me through their presumptions about my physical impairment and told me that I “inspired” them and given that troubling reassurance that I was bearing the “cross of Christ”. When I felt no different than other kids my age. But, in a way, I was.
The fact was that I was made to think. I dared to doubt. And, while a spiritual revolution was taking place in my mind, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate it in a way others could understand it. I sought refuge in trying to find answers beyond me. I wanted to knoW WHY. wHY HAD MY BROTHER DIED BEFORE I COULD GET TO KNOW HIM? Why I was born this way? Why was God angry at me? Was I a saint walking on the footsteps of Christ or a sinner bearing the torment of a banished hell angel? Yes, I was happy then. But there was always that foreknowing that this life will end. And then what will become of me? And was there a God any way? Or were we at the mercy of a God who was like those Greek gods I read in some of my books that toyed around with human BEINGS AS IF THEY WERE PAWNS ON CHESS BOARD?
I THOUGHT AND THOUGHT. DURING THOSE COLD WINTER NIGHTS WHEN I LOOKED WITH AWE AT THE DARK SKY TINTED WITH SILVER STARS. THE SAME STARS THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS HAD STUDIED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. THE SAME STARS THAT THE BIBLE SAYS HERALDED THE BIRTH OF THE JEWISH MESSIAH. THE SAME STARS THAT GUIDED SO MANY SEAFARERS. I was connected then with the past I shared with my ancestors. The same stars that were there at the beginning of the cosmos. The same stars but not yet the same. These are still stars that may not all be there today as their light takes millions of years to reach us. Stars are a connection with the past that is no longer there.
For a young boy, these thoughts were overwhelming. So many questions. So few answers. Many of which were incomplete or beyond my understanding. And yet, nobody in my life seemed to be asking why? People who claimed they were “people of faith” appeared to be interested in winning a place in heaven and saving their lives rather than living the spirit of love and compassion and reflecting on their lives. They weren’t asking about the wonders of this universe we find ourselves in. They weren’t asking themselves why they were the lucky ones to live on Earth in the first place.
But, yes, they were interested in making more money and searching for happiness in things that never lasted. Even their aspiration to gain heaven was motivated by a hope to experience pleasure and freedom from pain. Bt they forgot that heaven was now. What happens in the future is beyond our control. It’s only now that we can change the world. It’s only now that we can change ourselves. And, yes, I gradually became the adult I feared to become as a child. True, I tended to more open to different people because, I myself, had been judged simply for being different. Yet, many of those early attachments that I hoped to never acquire, I did acquire. So, I can’t really judge.
I may choose to go deeper into my past but I am restricted by time and space.I just wanted to share these memories as I keep growing in self-awareness. As I said in early posts, I am now on a journey of self-discovery. I am engaging more in Buddhist practice. I feel a sense of peace and happiness that I can’t really express using language. But, it’s there and it’s changing my life. For the better. I don’t expect for you to understand and I certainly don’t write to convert anyone to Buddhism and to take up a daily practice of meditation and mindfulness. I am just writing after reflecting on my own experience of life. At that, my experience of life is very limited when compared to the what one can experience in the longest of human lifetimes. It is also infinitesimal if you compare it to the age of the cosmos. But, yet, as insignificant as it might be, this life is really the only thing I have.
I end this entry here hoping. Hoping that tomorrow will come. That I will be still alive tomorrow. That the Earth will be here tomorrow. That those around me are still there with me. But there’s always the possibility of change. A change that isn’t necessarily bad but, at times, also necessary if we are to continue living. Yet, tomorrow remains only a hope and whether you’re a believer or non-believer, we all hold an irrational faith in a tomorrow.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
A Return Home - Part 2
Continued from Part 1
Today, I may say that I’ve returned home - even if I’ll soon be moving on - it’s still currently my home. But, in truth, this is only my temporary home. It may not be even be my real home. For when I leave this life, I have to give up all I have come to know as a human being.
Then, after my body dies, will I return to my authentic home?
Will I find my refuge?
Perhaps I have already found it...
One thing appears clear. My outlook on life has changed again. I'm sure it will change again in the future. I have grown to appreciate more what I learned from this ongoing journey of self-discovery and comprehend better what the Buddha and other great spiritual figures such as Jesus were saying.
That living a good life or finding happiness meant that we have to die for ourselves. That, no matter what society says or thinks, we can only gain if we lose our attachment to the self and objects that don't last but open our heart and mind to the other and to a world far greater than we are.
To lose ourselves to a universe so immense and mysterious that removes from us any pretensions that we are, in any way, the greatest gift to humanity.
This doesn't mean that we despair and indulge in self-loathing or give up on life. On the contrary, it's an invitation to be happy and discover a peace that is beyond our imagination and expectation.
We'll return to our real home.
A home where we are free.
A home that no one or nothing can destroy.
A place of refuge.
Today, I may say that I’ve returned home - even if I’ll soon be moving on - it’s still currently my home. But, in truth, this is only my temporary home. It may not be even be my real home. For when I leave this life, I have to give up all I have come to know as a human being.
Then, after my body dies, will I return to my authentic home?
Will I find my refuge?
Perhaps I have already found it...
One thing appears clear. My outlook on life has changed again. I'm sure it will change again in the future. I have grown to appreciate more what I learned from this ongoing journey of self-discovery and comprehend better what the Buddha and other great spiritual figures such as Jesus were saying.
That living a good life or finding happiness meant that we have to die for ourselves. That, no matter what society says or thinks, we can only gain if we lose our attachment to the self and objects that don't last but open our heart and mind to the other and to a world far greater than we are.
To lose ourselves to a universe so immense and mysterious that removes from us any pretensions that we are, in any way, the greatest gift to humanity.
This doesn't mean that we despair and indulge in self-loathing or give up on life. On the contrary, it's an invitation to be happy and discover a peace that is beyond our imagination and expectation.
We'll return to our real home.
A home where we are free.
A home that no one or nothing can destroy.
A place of refuge.
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