August 13, 2004
happy birthday
to everyone who made my transition from the teen years to, well, the non-teen years memorable and eventful, thank you. to those who braved the rain, thank you. to those who risked failing an exam, thank you. to those who sacrificed a class, thank you. to those who got stressed over the gifts, thank you. to those who went out on a limb to organize the surprises, thank you. to those who flirted with embarrassment, thank you. to those who came close to danger, thank you. to those who offered part of themselves for this day, thank you.
to those who texted, e-mailed, or called, thank you. to those who greeted me along hallways, corridors, and paths, thank you. to those who slapped, pitik-ed, and patted their greetings, thank you. to those who spent time writing on the cards and the album, thank you.
to those who remembered, thank you.
and to those who loved, a bigger thank you still.
August 08, 2004
a day of surrender
The first part of the Day went on smoothly, as it were. Our Theology teacher gave us some Songs and Psalms to reflect on, and as we sat there, meditating, she played some religious instrumentals which I thought were wonderfully serene. During this period, my mind went back to the time when I had my last recollection. I realized that it was oh-so-long ago. Perhaps it was 6 years since that time when I was forced by my parents to attend a Youth for Christ Youth Camp. I couldn't say "NO" then because my father was planning to buy us a personal computer that summer. I had to be nice.
But that Camp was, first and foremost, a disaster. I didn't want to talk to anybody, since nobody there appealed to me at first sight. There were a few who approached me, and eventually became my "dinner-mates," but for all intents and purposes, I was all alone. My "dinner-mates" even referred to me as Bato (Stone) or Stranger. I think I could never recall any other encounter that bruised my social skills as much as that Camp did.
However, I do remember that I found the Camp a pleasant place to reflect. It was quiet and peaceful, and the activities the organizers created made use of that rare opportunity of silence to try to "convert" us into the ways of Christ. Well, it didn't occur as sneaky as I wrote it here, but nevertheless, I responded to whatever it was they were doing. I sang the songs with all my heart, I praised God and Jesus Christ as sincerely as I could, and I gave my self up to them during the baptism rites. In a certain sense, yeah, I was converted, but then two weeks after that Camp, I reverted back to my old bad ways, and in many aspects the old bad ways have gone to something worse.
I arrived at the College Chapel in this state of "badness." Now, six years is a pretty long time. Whatever devils that may have been unleashed inside of me will be quite difficult to exorcise in just a day's worth of prayer. This is made evident by the fact that, upon knowing that we would have to confess our sins after our sharing, I immediately swore to myself that I would not confess. The devils inside me must have had a field day trying to convince me that confession is NOT the way to go. But something about the serenity of the place, the melody of the music, and the company of people I was with prompted me to stand up and sit beside one of the available priests. After six years, I was finally able to confess again.
The feeling is indescribable. I felt a censor acting on my thoughts, driving away impure and nasty thoughts. I felt a sensation of lightness within. I felt calm and at peace. And although my doubts did not melt away, I did not feel the negativity brought about by these doubts. As I knelt and did my penance, I found solace and comfort. I felt that, finally, I would have some answers to the burning questions inside my head.
I don't know how long this state would last. Perhaps it would last for two weeks, just like the Camp. Perhaps it would last longer. Perhaps it would last shorter. It just gladdens me that somehow, I was able to release myself to a higher power today, that I have surrendered.
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