Things I wish I learned early in life... number 2

2. Dream 

I grew up at a time when life was a series of do’s and don’ts. This was reinforced in school where the nuns gave students an even longer list of rules that they expected to be followed to the letter. This was also the time when life hands down the path you ought to take: the kind of boy you should marry, the kind of job you were expected to do, the kind of life you ought to live. 

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My only respite from all these rules was when I held a book in my hand. Books opened many things to me; new lands, new cultures, new ways of thinking and of doing things. It’s funny though that despite everything I read, I never thought of doing what the lead characters did in the story. Find love! Go for it! Do whatever makes you happy! Be strong! No one else will do it for you! 

I grew up believing that these were just stories, totally divorced from the kind of life real people lived. And so I daydreamed. I daydreamed a lot. But I never learned how to dream. I grew up thinking that what I had was my portion; that I had to learn how to deal with it and not ask for more. 

I lived life pretty much that way until someone asked me what I dreamed for the future. The question caught me off guard. I was puzzled. I didn’t think it possible until sometime later, I realized, what is life if we don’t dream? 

As a friend used to say "It's free to dream. Take advantage of it."

Things I wish I learned early in life... number 1

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1. Play and have fun 

It’s funny and embarrassing to admit that there are some pretty basic things that I learned quite late in life. First on my list is learning to play and have fun. Don’t get me wrong, I played with my siblings and friends from school when I was growing up. I went on sleepovers and mall shopping with friends like anyone else. I talked on the phone for hours with friends; chatting about our crushes and the daily misfits of our school teachers. 

But I didn’t really have that playful disposition in life like some people. I didn’t grow up believing that having fun can actually be a way of life. I did not realize then that knowing how to play is necessary if we are to learn most of life’s lessons.

Playing affords us to make mistakes, to laugh at ourselves, to pick up the pieces when we lose a game and to try again. It allows us to make friends and learn to interact with others. When we play, we learn to focus. We learn to deliberate and choose the better strategies to beat our opponent. We learn to discipline ourselves as we follow and play by the rules. In pursuing that coveted prize, we discover the importance of determination and perseverance in our game. Finally, we understand that our moves and our attitude have direct consequences on our chances of winning. 

Knowing how to play makes living so much easier! Life, after all, is like another ball game. Different balls, both big and small, gets tossed our way; and we find ourselves sincerely hoping that we've learned and practiced enough to catch them all.

Island of memories

Waiting at the doctor’s clinic, I always thought, was a waste of time. Despite having a book to read, sitting for hours was not exactly my favorite activity. But the visit was necessary and there wasn’t anything I could do. It was one of those days when I had just settled in a chair, prepared for an uneventful morning, when the cover of a travel magazine caught my eye. 

Ireland. The Island of Memories... Awaken to a Different World 

Instantly, my hand reached out for the magazine. Leafing through its colorful pages, each picture seemed to call out one vivid memory after another. With so much time in my hands, I turned each page and reminisced those wonderful days many years ago.

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Living, studying and working with the Irish helped me understand the hidden virtues of these funny and heart-warming people. It’s enough to wait in line at a bus stop for two seconds to know what the weather would be like for the day. Give it another five and you’re likely to make at least a friend each day. The Irish are amazing storytellers that hanging out at the local pub over a cup of coffee (if you’re there before 6pm) or a mug of Guinness is most likely to give you at least a couple of hours of great conversation. Proud of their Celtic ancestry, they enjoy narrating snippets from their history, so vividly described one almost feels he witnessed the event for himself. Both witty and entertaining, the Irish can turn these conversations to last the whole night. 

Coming from a tropical country, the seasons of Ireland fascinated me. Summer nights were bright and sunny; I couldn’t make myself go to bed and sleep, even if my clock showed that it was way past ten o’clock! Winter varied from year to year. My first year, it snowed.  The next, it was gone even before I knew it. Autumn was my favorite. It was nippy and I enjoyed tremendously the cool frosty air as it brushed against my face. I remember getting giddy at the crackling sound the golden autumn leaves made as soon as my shoes hit them on the pavement. Strangely, spring just flew quickly by. I’d never forget though the snowdrops and the golden daffodils that accompanied me as I cycled along the quiet lanes of Belfield and Trinity. 

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If I had a chest of memories about Ireland,  half of its contents would probably be about Trinity. Studying there, walking along its lecture halls, burying my head in its libraries gave me a sense of pride that I had not known before. It was in Trinity College where professors became more than just mentors; and classmates turned into friends overnight. It was here where I met real thinkers who opened new doors for me. My life was suddenly informed by countless books I would never have gotten hold of back home. Great mentors showed me paths I had not even considered possible. I still remember one such conversation... 

“Are you writing a book? You can’t write from inside, looking out. You’ve got to climb up that tree,” he observed, as I sat in an empty alcove outside a lecture hall, looking up a tree that was leaning by the window where I had sat. 

“But I can’t do that. Is this not good enough?” I pretended to beg, surprised at the sudden intrusion. 

“No! You’ll only be building bird nests there,” he scolded. 

“Well, maybe I am,” I replied, quite in a resigned sort of way. 

“Oh now, that’s where the trouble starts!” he snorts and went off his way. 

That was Brendan Kennelly, a popular Irish poet and novelist who was then a professor of Modern Literature at Trinity. This conversation and his quick unsolicited advice, brief as it was, marked me for life. To this day, I smile whenever I catch myself looking up a tree. I still hear the old man’s voice, egging me on to do what I want to do. 

Another conversation went this way, this time with one of my professors... 

“How’s the thesis going?” he asked during one of our usual afternoon meetings. 

“Slow,” I said quietly, “Can’t seem to figure out why I’m doing this or where I’m supposed to be.” 

“What do you want to do?” he said, giving me that gaze that seemed to know the answer even before I knew it myself. 

“That’s the problem, I don’t know!” I said, almost in an exasperated sort of way. And as an afterthought, I added, “I just want to make a difference!” 

He smiled and gave me that fatherly look he’d always give me when I seemed lost. “Then you already know why you’re doing this and where you ought to be. All of us -- our place is where we can make a difference in our little corner of the sky.” 

Perhaps, without meaning to, my professor gave clarity to what had been on my mind. In his usual fondness for brevity, he directed the path I had since taken.

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My last year in Ireland, we had an Indian summer. It was glorious as the vivid greenery of spring shriveled under the burning wind and sun of September. Cycling down in Lismullin, the air vibrated with heat over the silent stretches of the Navan Road. There were no birds in the air but I noticed a number of squirrels hiding behind the trees, only to scurry off to the next as soon as I sped past them. Taking a short break later, the green fields cast against the grey shadow of clouds in the sky seemed to forever hang above the desolate and sleepy area. I chided myself then for not bringing my camera. It would have made a charming picture to bring back home. 

A few weeks before I was scheduled to leave, my friends took me to a trip up north. Belfast was strange and raw, quite different from the south. The city itself was a ghost town. Going to the countryside however took my breath away. Its forests were haunting and exquisite, almost like looking at a postcard! 

Spring had come but almost like it commiserated with how I felt, the green of the season looked violent and artificial. I am by nature sensitive to the pangs of separation and coming close to the time of my departure; I was anything but disposed to leaving this beautiful land. In the sunshine, the patches of green seemed more intense. Strangely, I remembered thinking that they were like torn pieces of a mask, as if discarded and thrown by an angry child. 

Back in Dublin, I picked up the pace. I decided to visit as many places as I could and go for walks by the sea every day. If there’s one thing l loved about Ireland, it’s being able to walk by the sea. Countless times, my friends and I would walk along the shore and make sand castles for hours; only to be toppled down by a ball eagerly thrown by some young dad teaching his five year old to run. We’d frown at first but laugh it off after and start building another one again. 

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It’s funny how pictures can bring us back in time. My love affair with Ireland ended many years ago but memories of its lovely people, quiet country roads, bustling Dublin, fascinating seasons (and exciting pubs) are as alive as they used to be. But Ireland was more than these. It awakened me to a world where anything was possible; where one can always build again; where the beautiful jewels of tomorrow lay hidden in the daily toils of today.  

I closed the magazine and heaved a long sigh. Waiting at the doctor’s clinic was not a waste of my time after all.

The longest two hours

We don’t usually notice time pass by. We go over our daily tasks like clockwork and either the setting sun or people waving us goodbye for the day tells us another work day is over. Most times, we fail to appreciate how much time we’re given. Most of us simply fall into our daily routine and forget to recognize the many opportunities we receive to make time matter. 

It was one such day when I had just settled down to another work day when the phone call came. Nobody ever wants to get that call. You hear that sombre voice, pausing and weighing every few words uttered. The voice tells you something has happened and if you could meet them in the ER of the nearest hospital. 

I put down the phone and for a second, I told myself, “That was not real.” I fought back the tears knowing I had neither the time nor the need for them now. In three minutes, I had changed and was on the way to a road I had never imagined taking before. 

As I approached the ER, I saw familiar faces but theirs was not the face I sought. Then I saw him, lying on one side, his face contorted in some pain I could not imagine. I called out his name. He turned, looked at me, and moaned that his head ached. Many times throughout that morning I wished I had a magic wand or a pill that would help take his pain away. Many times, I stroked his head; whispered in his ear, told him help was coming. Many times I fought back the tears, feigning some strength I knew l did not have. 

Finally at 2pm, they took him away for surgery. Before they wheeled him inside the operating room, the doctor told us the importance of the procedure; that he could fall into a coma if the bleeding was not stopped immediately. Nothing much registered after. Just one thought struck me. This was real. This was serious. I could lose him. 

How does one deal with such agonizing thoughts when only a few hours earlier, everything in the world was alright? “This couldn’t be happening,” I thought. How could one singular incident change everything... affect his health... his life... my world? 

Then started the longest two hours I have ever known in my entire life. My thoughts brought me to this time last year when we had been busy with last minute preparations for the wedding. We were stressed, exhausted and had lost some sleep. We wished the next few days would last as long as we had prepared for it. Then, our world was alright. The sun had shone brightly on each day as we finished one errand after another. At day’s end, the stars had smiled on us when we kissed goodnight. Everything was as it should be. 

So much has happened since then. But it's only been a year. I needed more time, we needed more time. There were still so many things to do. We still had our share of dreams to accomplish and places we promised we’d visit. But such thoughts were futile, I realized. I was not in control. There wasn’t much I could do if destiny believed that our time was up. And so, I prayed. I prayed like I never have before. At that point, I neither knew the day nor the time. I just knew I had to storm heaven’s doors if that was what it took for my plea to be heard. 

Those two hours of waiting was excruciatingly painful. But I found much support in family members who came to accompany and pray with me. Their presence gave me great comfort. I knew I was not alone in this. They understood my pain because they too were hurting. Together, we prayed. We waited. And as I willed the hands of the clock to move and for the doors of the operating room to open, I suddenly became aware of the blessings that came despite this very distressing incident. These were blessings that until then, my overly strained and anxious mind had not grasped.

Later that night, I walked down the hospital floors toward the chapel. The silence of the night kept my roaring thoughts in check. I knelt down and felt the tears staining my already wet face once again. For a few moments, I just looked at the burning flame in front of me. My heart let out a silent scream if only to relieve myself of the knot that tugged at my insides. 

Then, in the cold and quiet confines of the chapel, I felt a warm embrace. Despite the pain in my heart, I remembered to give thanks. Those two long hours of waiting made me see that everything that happened had been blessed by His hand. Waiting had been stressful. But I understood now that those two long hours was sacred time.

It allowed me to thank the people who prayed with me. It was an occasion to be loved and to give love to those who, like me, were hurting. It was an opportunity to grow in faith, share my hope with others and continue to live in love. It was an invitation to seek Him, find Him and stay close to Him.

God whispers

So this is how cancer patients feel like, she thought to herself. 

The nurse had left after asking her to take off her clothes and put on the hospital dressing gown. All of a sudden, she felt chilled to the bone. The room was cold and her whole body shivered underneath the thin material of the dressing gown. The door opened and two nurses came in. They asked her to lie down and silently did some preliminary tests on her. 

“If only I could be lulled to sleep soon”, she thought. Then what? What happens next? Anyone would have probably thought “back to work” or “let’s go over that project again” or “what will be for dinner tonight” or “my little one needs to be driven to his guitar lessons” and a thousand other things. But she was not anyone. Her life had been put on hold. Tomorrow was just an illusion. 

She closed her eyes and after a while, felt the nurses wrapping both her arms and legs in what must have been huge bandages. They felt snug and quite relieved her from the cool flow of air in the room. The nurses left her and she was alone once again. She opened her eyes and saw her heavily bandaged arms and legs. The weight of the bandages prevented her from lifting her arms and legs; and there was nothing she could do about it. A few minutes from now, she would be put to sleep and the procedure would begin. She tried to recall her doctor’s answer why the operation had to last for 8 hours. She couldn’t and so she did the only thing she could. Pray. 

Positioned by the nurses with both her arms stretched to either side, she prayed. A picture of the crucified Christ came to mind. Would she share the same fate as Christ? Or was this disease a mere prelude to something else? So many questions… what’s the point of asking if no answers are given? Once again, she prayed. 

“Life’s been good”, she prayed. “But should this be the end, let things not be difficult for those I will leave behind. If, on the other hand …” Her thoughts were racing, she was feeling groggy and knew the anesthesia was doing its magic on her. She had to finish her prayer. She had to tell Him somehow. “If on the other hand, You wish me to still live, use me. Tell me how to serve You best.” 

A year and a half has passed since that long and arduous operation. Many times, she wondered how she would seal the deal she made with Him. Now she knew. This was how. 

There were no dry eyes in the room as she surveyed the audience.  She had talked about her battle with cancer, her blossoming relationship with Him, and her life now with the community.  Each one in the room understood her fear, felt her pain, touched by her joy. But mostly, she talked about how one day, God whispered to her… “You have a brilliant mind – use it. Others have it too, use them also. Allow yourself to be mentored and you will mentor others too. I will bring you students”. She smiled while tears circled her eyes, as she looked at the “students” God had brought to listen to her. 

 Today, God whispers still… and she continues to listen.

Defining Moments

It was summer, a few days before her birthday. She was turning 16, feeling elated at the prospect of turning a year older. That evening though, they received news of her uncle’s death. Suddenly, her 16^th birthday slipped into oblivion as everyone rushed to the more pressing matters of wake preparations, funeral arrangements and facing the grief her uncle’s death left his family. That day, she turned 16 but no one remembered. To her young mind, the day had ceased its importance. She figured, she was not important.

The pink letter could be seen through the white envelope. She knew what it meant and so, did not wish to – there was no need to open the envelope and read the contents of the letter.  She sat in front of the television that night, cried her heart out and believed that she wasn’t cut out for anything she had dreamt about. Painfully, she wrapped her dreams in the deep recesses of her heart. Dreams make fools out of us, she thought, and life has no place for them. 

Christmas has always been a stressful time of the year.  But Christmas 1999 was even more so.  She packed her bags and left. A feeling of great relief and of exhilaration escaped her heart. “I am free,” she thought. Her friend commented that she was just running away. Yes, she agreed. She was running away – away from a life that had imprisoned her all these years, kept her in chains and had her believe that she was good for nothing. As the car sped away with her and all her belongings, she now knew she was finally free to write and live her own destiny. 

Finding someone didn’t necessarily mean he was the one, she realized. The things she did – why had she been so trusting? How cruel could some people really be?  The betrayal had left her pained and wounded, but not forever lost. Ironically, the pain became the source of her strength. It transformed her to be the person she wanted to be.   

Just two years into her work and she was recognized as the most outstanding employee of the year. The following year, she could hardly believe it when amidst the shouts of glee of friends and colleagues alike, she heard her name called out once again for the same award.  Years later, she realized everything had been a blessing.  She had found her niche and had made some worthy contribution there. But things change. It now calls her somewhere else. And go she must… 

Finding one’s true love didn’t seem real until he finally came. There was more reason now to get up each morning, appreciate the life she had and the many blessings received. Three years down the road and she was now marching down the altar toward him. All the hurt and the pain of things past served their purpose. She realized she needed to learn all these to get to where she was going and help sustain the love and happiness her heart now contained. Yes, there is a time for everything. Today, it is her time… 

Defining moments – all of us have them throughout our lives. Some are heart breakers, others are confidence builders. Whatever they are, defining moments touch our lives. They teach us life lessons we wouldn’t have learned elsewhere. They open up new opportunities we would not have thought possible. They bring us to a new realization that life is beautiful and that someone has us at the palm of His hand to make sure we live it the best way we can.   

Doors

It was the middle of the afternoon and I was typing away on my computer when I heard the door to the office open. A familiar voice called my name. I couldn’t believe it. That sounds like… but it’s not possible, I thought. I heard my name again and this time, I stood up from my chair to greet my visitor. Yes, it was her, just as I thought. 

The afternoon soon passed and before we realized, she had to go. It was a happy reunion after so many years. I must have stared at the door for some time after she left, willing the door to open and for my friend to come back. But she had left and the door was now closed.

Doors… how many people have come in and out through that door these past years? Some entered with work on their mind. A few had knocked quietly, careful not to disturb the quiet atmosphere the office held. Others didn’t even care to knock, probably because they knew they were welcome anytime. 

This door had been my lifeline, the one link I had to friends, both past and present. The door’s opening heralded a friend’s visit, someone who needed a listening ear, who needed to vent her troubles on someone. It meant an invitation to their world and their affairs. It was a call to spend time with people, to laugh at their crazy stories and cry their worries with them. Even at day’s end, the door didn’t really close. I went out only to open it the following day, ready to open my lifeline once again.

But there are doors that are meant to be closed permanently. We need to close them to make it possible for others to be opened. Isn’t it funny how our life resembles a door? We open ourselves for people to come in, events to tug at our hearts and find comfort there; only to let them go and close the door after they leave. In time though, allowing one to be closed gives way for another to be opened.

Perhaps someday, they will come back knocking. Perhaps they won’t. That’s what life is about. It’s about doors opening and closing. It’s about people who come and go, and come back as they please. It’s about events that happen only if we have our doors open. At the same time, it's about opportunities that can take place only if we first close our door.

That afternoon, a friend left and closed the door. I shall keep it closed for that is the way it is meant to be; for now anyway.  

I wanna be a billionaire

“I wanna be a billionaire so freaking bad” … the lines of the song keeps on reverberating in my ears. Do I really want to be a billionaire?  Having all that money can answer a lot of things right now. I could pay all my loans… I could start a business… I can travel… I can resign… Yes, maybe getting a billion bucks will give me more courage to  do what I really want to do.

Funny how many of us wait for the seemingly opportune moment to do what we really want to do. Many times, there’s always something that stops us from pursuing our dreams – not financially stable, not physically healthy, too many loans to pay, responsibilities that can’t be put aside, people that cannot be left behind. Nothing bad about these but I’ve been giving these excuses for years… when will they end?

Once, I saw my reflection after I shut down my computer and the eyes that stared back at me seemed to ask “what are you still doing there?” 

Reflecting on my life has not left me wanting. While I do acknowledge that I may not have always made appropriate choices, they weren’t bad or wrong altogether. Each of those choices made me what I am today and I have no regrets. I like who I am and am happy and comfortable with myself. But I am once again at a crossroad. One leads to the road I have mostly traveled – the road I am most familiar with, that which has given me a lot of security, comfort, happiness. The other seems more uncertain. The terrain may be smooth or it could be rough, I don’t know. It could bring problems but it could just as well bring more possibilities and new opportunities.

These reflections scare me. I am not a risk taker.  I have never made uncertainties part of my life plan. I always want to be safe. I always want to be in control.

On the other hand, these reflections also excite me.  Because for the first time, I realize that surprises could be just as cool. Who knows - taking that other road might just open up a host of possibilities. I could pursue my dreams. I could find joy and passion in my work again. I could take more charge of my life, use the gifts I have been given and discover more about myself in the process.  

Work all these years has been one big party with many significant experiences and life lessons. It was a get-together with friends who, over the years, have come and gone.  But that's all in the past. Now, one has got to know when the party's over.  And for me, I have a pretty strong feeling that it is.

What if?

Civil unrest persists in the Middle East

The recession in America and Europe continues

Tsunamis and typhoons still wreak havoc

And the masterminds in high profile cases are still at large.

The news spills out the same kind of news everyday; depressing, frustrating, infuriating. What are we to do -- innocent bystanders --- when much of what is happening is not only to our liking but worse, beyond our control? 

What if war and civil unrest persists in the Middle East? What if America and Europe and all the superpowers of this world fail to arrest the recession and poverty hits a desperate low worldwide? What if tsunamis and typhoons continue to wreak havoc and remains of their anger covers the whole world? What if the masterminds of all unsolved crimes are long gone only to be replaced by new masterminds now occupying powerful positions?

  

"What if" is a good exercise for the imagination. We involve ourselves in what is yet to come. We create a parallel universe where things can go in many different directions we would not have thought possible. And because it is a mental exercise, we envision the consequences of our actions, weigh our choices with greater caution and plan our next steps more carefully. 

So what if civil unrest continues in the Middle East? It would probably bring much fear. But it could also bring down years of authoritarianism and lead to greater freedom and the much-awaited recognition of human rights for its people. 

And what if America and Europe and all the superpowers of this world fail to arrest the recession and poverty hits a desperate low worldwide? That would probably make life even more difficult but it could level the playing field and put those at the bottom of the economic triangle at the same starting line as the rest. 

What about natural calamities? What if they continue to wreak havoc and remains of their anger covers the whole nation, the whole world? Thousands of people may die, buried in ash, dust or flood waters; but it can also jolt people awake from their dreamy stupor and impregnate new life in what was once dead. 

And what if the masterminds of all unsolved crimes are long gone only to be replaced by new masterminds now occupying powerful positions? That would probably bring us back to the present and make us believe that overcoming a civil unrest, an economic crisis and a natural disaster are sufficient reasons to put down the oppressive reign of the powers-that-be. 

Indeed, these may be ridiculous, even impossible assumptions. But that’s what a mental exercise is all about.  Pondering about the “what ifs” in our life makes us realize that nothing is so bad that nothing can be done about it. It may even stir us to look for more creative solutions to our problems rather than twiddle our fingers and wait for manna to drop from heaven.

Fully Human, Fully Divine

Fully human, fully divine

What can I experience that you have not?

Pain, hunger, loneliness, joy, 
Friendships lost and friendships gained

You knew all these before I did.

Just as my heart sings in anticipation of a wish fulfilled 

Yours did too, in anticipation of bringing heaven back to me.

Just as my soul wept from the pain and humiliation that life brings

Yours did too, in the face of my own turning away from you.

 

Fully human, fully divine

What can I experience that you have not?

The tears you wept for a friend who passed away

Broke your heart as it did mine,

Caring for the needs of people lifted up your spirit

As mine was made complete.

You knew all these, felt all these

Long before I ever did.

Fully human, you know my failings

How weak I am and how short-lived my faith can be,

But being fully divine, you love me anyway

You stay close even as I fail to recognize your presence.

Fully human, fully divine

Your love holds me up when my faith is tested 
and my hope diminishes

In your humanity -- 
may I see the power of possibilities I can make happen

In your divinity -- 
may I love others as you have always loved me.

Dreams

I was on the train, on my way home from work, tired and sleepy. It was difficult to keep my eyes open but fought the urge to sleep. Home was just half an hour away. I could make it ‘til then.

“What do you dream about?” Someone had asked me before.  I remember staring at him, fumbling for something to say. But before I could answer, he smiled and said “Maybe it’s time to dream again.”

I think about it now and realize most of us live our lives not fully realizing that we aren’t truly living. Or maybe even worse, we are living someone else’s dreams. What is it about growing up and getting a job that ruins the child in us and the dreams we weaved when we were innocent five year olds?

When we were young, most of us had a string of dreams we promised we’d fulfill by age 25. And while we knew there were dragons to slay, we believed in a fairy godmother that would turn our dragons into dust. We grow up and the dragons in our dreams become real. We look around but there is no fairy godmother to slay them for us. And so, we run, we fight, we run again, and we fight some more. Some dragons, we slay. Others retreat, only to come back to catch us by surprise when we least expect it.

Dragons, however, are the least of our problems. For each one of us, there will always be dragons in life. The question is when they will come and how do we deal with them.  This perhaps, is what defines our life. Do we choose to slay our dragons and continue on the road towards our dreams or do we allow them to create illusions that make us lose track and forget our dreams?

I heard somebody say that dreams empower us to find and sustain our blue flame – the center of our being where our deepest passion and abilities intersect. The dragons in our life would have us believe that our blue flame has been extinguished and that we simply have to deal with what life has left to offer. But dreams are not just for innocent five year olds. They are also for you and me, adults that we are, if we are to truly live.

The train halted to a stop and I woke up from my deep reverie.  As I stepped off the train, I smiled to myself and started to dream again.