originally posted on Cafe Philosoffee 2007-05-15
AB IRATO
Many years ago I've pondered upon the silly issue, when I die, how many people will come to my funeral, how many will feel the loss of my absence, who will carry my coffin, who will say something during my funeral service, what will they say?
Somehow, these kinds of thoughts may be rendered morbid by certain people, while others will think that these kinds of thoughts are the ones that separate big from small boys.
My usual contentment is in knowing that I have people around me who will be honest enough to tell me my breath stinks, or that I dress silly, or that I am getting to fat for my blazer... My point is, not that I find pleasure in having my pride burst all the time, but in knowing that there are some out there who would risk a few weeks of cold treatment or even a harsh retort, to be open to each other as best possible yet knowing that it would be okay because our friendship is valued at much more than just the apparent peace and comfort of un-tried and un-tested acquaintances.
I may not be the most out-spoken, or do I usually readily share my feelings with others, but I know the only key to healing is to acknowledge that I am not well. Emotionally even.
I have lost many friendships through my last life-tragedy. Saying this may not be exactly fair to many, but there's no such thing as a human-relations that is built without any expectations. And being me, my expectations can sometimes paralyse something that I treasure much.
I am disappointed. It could be unfair for me to say this, but playing angels and hiding my feelings are not exactly doing me much good either. I am disappointed at many of my friends back home who has not made any real effort in knowing whether or not I am doing fine. I am disappointed at some of them who'd assume that I would rather be left alone, and I am disappointed at some of them who re just plain too afraid to ask... Afraid? Lame.
I used to be in a team of leadership team, dedicated to Build Kingdom Builders. Having invested most of my time, and much much of my meagre earnings on something that I believed in so much. I had an army (okay, probably not as many as a platoon) of colleagues, comrades, who carries the banner of our common vision together, having fought through unpopularity and the pain of persecution, bleeding from the attack but with our free hands holding on to each other as we struggle to stand to what we believe in. Really, even with all the pain and all, I miss those days when I could still belong to a pack, and "us" was a real entity.
Anyway, being a person who "usually" exudate positivity, I refuse to think that my current loses are going down the pipe, but I'd rather invest in the hope that some will at least benefit from all that I've given. I have those who still would call me up and write some soothing emails, and come visit. I know it is not the most-macho things to want all these, and yes I am lucky, very very fortunate to have them. But I have to acknowledge the stab that is left on my chest, and know that all that I see is a passing glory. Sic transit gloria mundi.
So how should I live my life tomorrow? In full appreciation to whatever I have left, acknowledge those who are still holding me dear, and learn that healing will not come by as soon as I'd like it to be, but still I am not without friends.
AB IRATO
Without emotion, man would be nothing
but a biological computer. Love, joy,
sorrow, fear, apprehension, anger,
satisfaction, and discontent provide
the meaning of human existence.
but a biological computer. Love, joy,
sorrow, fear, apprehension, anger,
satisfaction, and discontent provide
the meaning of human existence.
Many years ago I've pondered upon the silly issue, when I die, how many people will come to my funeral, how many will feel the loss of my absence, who will carry my coffin, who will say something during my funeral service, what will they say?
Somehow, these kinds of thoughts may be rendered morbid by certain people, while others will think that these kinds of thoughts are the ones that separate big from small boys.
My usual contentment is in knowing that I have people around me who will be honest enough to tell me my breath stinks, or that I dress silly, or that I am getting to fat for my blazer... My point is, not that I find pleasure in having my pride burst all the time, but in knowing that there are some out there who would risk a few weeks of cold treatment or even a harsh retort, to be open to each other as best possible yet knowing that it would be okay because our friendship is valued at much more than just the apparent peace and comfort of un-tried and un-tested acquaintances.
I may not be the most out-spoken, or do I usually readily share my feelings with others, but I know the only key to healing is to acknowledge that I am not well. Emotionally even.
I have lost many friendships through my last life-tragedy. Saying this may not be exactly fair to many, but there's no such thing as a human-relations that is built without any expectations. And being me, my expectations can sometimes paralyse something that I treasure much.
I am disappointed. It could be unfair for me to say this, but playing angels and hiding my feelings are not exactly doing me much good either. I am disappointed at many of my friends back home who has not made any real effort in knowing whether or not I am doing fine. I am disappointed at some of them who'd assume that I would rather be left alone, and I am disappointed at some of them who re just plain too afraid to ask... Afraid? Lame.
I used to be in a team of leadership team, dedicated to Build Kingdom Builders. Having invested most of my time, and much much of my meagre earnings on something that I believed in so much. I had an army (okay, probably not as many as a platoon) of colleagues, comrades, who carries the banner of our common vision together, having fought through unpopularity and the pain of persecution, bleeding from the attack but with our free hands holding on to each other as we struggle to stand to what we believe in. Really, even with all the pain and all, I miss those days when I could still belong to a pack, and "us" was a real entity.
Anyway, being a person who "usually" exudate positivity, I refuse to think that my current loses are going down the pipe, but I'd rather invest in the hope that some will at least benefit from all that I've given. I have those who still would call me up and write some soothing emails, and come visit. I know it is not the most-macho things to want all these, and yes I am lucky, very very fortunate to have them. But I have to acknowledge the stab that is left on my chest, and know that all that I see is a passing glory. Sic transit gloria mundi.
So how should I live my life tomorrow? In full appreciation to whatever I have left, acknowledge those who are still holding me dear, and learn that healing will not come by as soon as I'd like it to be, but still I am not without friends.
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