Never Say Never

Sometimes the world seems like an impossible place to realize the dreams and imaginations of our hearts and minds, but never say never. Never say you’ll never make it, because you don’t know what breakthrough is waiting for you. Never say you’ll never be successful; you don’t know what great thing has been prepared for you to achieve. Just because no one can see it, doesn’t mean you can’t do it. Just because you don’t know, doesn’t mean you won’t discover. And just because you never have, doesn’t mean you never will.

My Guest Post for Liz Claudio: Never Say Never

My friend and fellow blogger, Liz Claudio, asked me to do a guest post on her blog where she writes about  her thoughts on learning, loving, living, and sharing. Here's a preview:

When I heard him say this I really felt something inside drop, not so much because he didn’t want to have kids, but more because of his reason: “I don’t want my children to experience what happened to me because of my dad. I don’t want to make them go through what my dad made me go through.” Here was this wonderful young man, smart, hardworking, determined, can run 5k in 15 minutes (that’s fast by the way), telling me that his reason for not wanting to have children was his fear of following in his father’s footsteps.


You can read the whole thing here: Never Say Never

Psalm 127:2

In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat--for he grants sleep to those he loves.

Outer Space

Galaxies and cosmos
Play on my ceiling
Gas and color come alive

Don't understand
How planets collide
Once massive, now pieces

Can't understand
How bright stars die
Once radiant, now blackholes

New sparks ignite
New masses combine
Only for a moment, only for a time

An Infinite Number of Lives

Dinner Has Changed
The theme of Cinema Paradiso plays as I enjoy another late dinner by myself. I couldn’t have asked for better background music. I really enjoyed that movie, and the score is one of my favorites. Sometimes I feel like a character in a coming-of-age film, fortunately stumbling along through life experiencing all the mistakes, hurts, losses, and lessons along the way.

Life for me has changed a lot, and it has gotten very interesting – my catch-all word for stressful, challenging, worrying, stretching, strengthening, character building, and maturing. Most days start early in the morning with the sunlight acting as a natural alarm clock, then its prayer, oil-pulling, breakfast (when I remember), and off to work. I go through a list of things to do for Issho Genki, naturalhealth.ph, and some other opportunities, as well as taking some time for my non-profit involvements. Sometimes I have lunch but lately I’ve been forgetting, so I put an alarm on my phone to remind me, but I somehow messed-up the alarm so it rings at 4pm. I haven’t gotten around to fixing it. So aside from the granola bars I eat all day, dinner is really the only regular meal I have.

And even dinner has changed.

Just a few months ago, while still living in my parents’ house, I could expect a yummy home cooked meal every evening. These days, I usually eat at one of the cheap restaurants near my building or stick to a mixture of no-cook food on paper plates. I finally bought glasses last week, so now I can enjoy my favorite full-cream milk in something other than a plastic cup. Once in a while I treat myself to something a little more expensive, but it’s true what they say about earning your keep, when you’ve worked so hard you just don’t want to spend it away.

But despite having less conveniences, less food, less security (more like no security), and less of all the comforts I used to enjoy, I feel alive – and isn’t that what life is about? To do more than take up space on the planet, but to know and feel in your heart that you’re participating in this great story’s unraveling. That your living out your story within His-story.

That’s the one point I hope you catch in this post: live your story.


Live Your Story
I love stories. I love reading them, hearing about them, and watching them, and I love writing my own. And while I have my favorites, I’ve realized that all stories are incomparable. You can’t compare The Godfather to The Little Prince, neither can you say Il Postino was better than Legends of the Fall.

They’re all good stories.

But sometimes we do this with each other and ourselves, comparing stories and making pronouncements on which one’s better. Your story is better because you’ve made fewer mistakes. My story beats yours because I’ve traveled more. Your story isn’t worth anything because you don’t have money. You ruined your story when you were arrested, or when you got pregnant, or because you went bankrupt. We rank our stories according to conventions, unforgiving conventions that trap us.

But there’s no use comparing stories since every story is unique, and different, and special because every story is a life with a spirit, soul, and body, that’s maybe very differently oriented than yours but also created by God. I’ve decided to stop playing story judge. Instead, I’d rather be like a child that listens wide-eyed to everything from flying elephants and brave soldiers to martyrs and romances. It’s also helped that I’m more aware of my own limitations, stink, and weaknesses, and I want to be forgiving, hoping that someday people will be forgiving as well. Because when I’m really honest with myself, when I pray at night, all I can say is, “Father, here’s my story. It isn’t much. But it’s yours if you’ll take it. Please redeem it. Fix it.” 

There’s enough in my own story to work on. Why busy myself policing others?


Fathers of Three Boys
The man who delivers the paper to my parents’ house has been doing the same thing for a while. He used to come in a bike but now he’s upgraded to a scooter – one that’s big enough to hold him and his own 3 boys. I saw them once, packed tight one after the other on the scooter, and I wondered to myself what that must feel like. Then I had an impression, “It’s different isn’t it? It’s something else.”

I thought about that: “It’s different.”

Here was a man, just like my dad a father, of 3 boys too, working to put food on the table, married for sure, so many similarities but – different. They don’t have our cars but we don’t know the thrill of riding behind our dad on a scooter. They don’t have Bulla Bars in the freezer like my mom likes to have, but there’s something, many things actually, in their story that’s not in mine. It’s different. Again, it’s incomparable. One is not better than the other. It’s just different.


An Infinite Number of Lives
Wakes are supposed to be a sad place, not a time for inspiration. But a few weeks ago, while walking out of the wake of Chip’s brother, Jaco, I couldn’t stop thinking about the words printed on a photo of Jaco his mom, Tita Sony, handed me:

“There’s been an infinite variety of lives. Who’s to say his was any less worth living than all the others?”

There are an infinite number of lives. Yours, mine, lives of those who have gone before us, and lives waiting to begin, all different, all unique, all priceless, and all worth living just the same.

Psalm 139

O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.

You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

How precious to [b] me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.

If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD,
and abhor those who rise up against you?

I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Song of Solomon 2:10-13

My lover spoke and said to me,
"Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, and come with me.

See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me."

Ecclesiastes 12:1

Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
"I find no pleasure in them"

Ecclesiastes 7:16-18

Do not be overrighteous,
neither be overwise—
why destroy yourself?

Do not be overwicked,
and do not be a fool—
why die before your time?

It is good to grasp the one
and not let go of the other.
The man who fears God will avoid all extremes

Thoughts on a Sunset Painted Windy Day

Looking back,
To connect the moments,
That brought me to you...


Maybe it's a heart that was once broken
Maybe it's a promise unkept
Maybe it's the hope I lost forever
Maybe it's my fear of what's ahead


Maybe it's a dream I wish I'd woken
But I didn't and now regret
Maybe it's a step I should have taken
Maybe it's a shame I can't forget


Maybe a million things,
A million moments,
That brought me to you...
- Connecting the Dots




They say the lights of the fireflies are powered by memories, the memories of everyone alive and gone. And every night they fly back to this tree, to relive the closed eyes, and hands clasped, the kisses, and the moments long over.
- The Tree of Memories


Sometimes it's good to slow down. Sometimes it's good to stop completely. Even sometimes it's better to take a step back - like I am now as I write this. There's a lot of work to be finished, meetings to prepare for, emails to send, and numbers to crunch, but there's also a soul to rest and a spirit to fill, both of which I have taken for granted despite the fact that they're the parts of us that are eternal. But not anymore. I will remember to value these invisible treasures.


Moment #1: Fireworks
I remember being on a date once. It was her, me, and my slightly overweight wingman. We had climbed the fire escape ladder to the roof of her building and sat on a ledge. I remember her turning to me and saying, "Isn't this great?" "Yeah", I said "It sure is." And I really did think it was great, because when you like someone, as in really really like someone, every simple act or experience becomes a moment, a moment unforgettable.

"Do you know what would really be great?"
"What?" I asked her.
"Fireworks!"
I don't know why I said this, but I did, and I told her, "You'll get your fireworks."

And I'm not making this up, but a few minutes later the dark sky lit up as red and amber sparks rained down from the welding in the building across us - like fireworks. It was amazing. The timing was perfect. Her wish was granted and I was the handsomest man in the world to her.

But that was a long time ago. A lot has changed since.


Moment #2: Primavera
I remember walking through the almost empty Charles de Gaulle airport dragging my suitcase behind me. I had missed my overnight train to Madrid and had to catch the earliest flight in the morning to make it to my meeting. I was too tired to get a hotel for the evening and I didn't think it was practical to get a room for a few hours. I was being practical but only because I had to: I didn't have any money and the little I did have went to the only seat I could get: business class on Air France. That hurt, and that was before they lost my luggage. But I didn't know that then while I sat down on one of the benches. It wasn't long before I was surrounded by sleeping homeless guys. I don't remember being scared. I think I was too tired to get scared. I do remember that they didn't smell very pleasant. You're never too tired to smell stink.

But looking back, that misadventure was perfect. Sure it delayed my plans. Sure I got no sleep. Sure Air France lost my luggage. But I made it to my meeting, and not before seeing a golden-haired angel from a Botticelli painting behind the counter selling toothbrushes. And I had a thought, that maybe if I had made my train, I would have missed this most unassuming piece of divine art.

But that was just that. It was great. But it was just a visit to the museum.


Moment #3: A Sunset Painted Windy Day
I can still remember walking on the soft grass. I can still feel the wind dancing with my hair. I used to visit that place to escape my responsibilities, but today was different. Because as I looked at the setting sun sink into the darkening sky, I felt an impression in my heart tell me, "Do you see how beautiful that is? I painted that for you." And I took it all in, the light and dark blues blending with the grays, and whites, and violets, and vermillion and other kinds of reds, and oranges like the one from the fireworks. They were all there.

We walked down that hill with the painting frescoed into our minds.


Thoughts on that Sunset Painted Windy Day
As I drove home, I still couldn't get over it.

"You painted that for me?"

"I painted that for you. I paint every sky for you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

"But why?"

"Because you're mine."

That never used to make sense to me, how having someone was enough reason to make you want to make every moment special for him or her. But then I began to understand, and as I did I could feel every beautiful experience being relived and every regret redeemed because I realized, what I didn’t see then, that every moment, was made especially for me. Every welder’s spark, every delayed plan, every deferred hope, every embarrassment and every failure, every dream, every open door, and every lesson was and is made especially for me.

So tonight this post ends, and my midnight starts, by looking back at the moments that brought me to You.

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

Ecclesiastes 3:10-11

I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Leaning On You

You knit in me a a big heart
You whisper to me great dreams in the night
But the weight of these passions,
The weight of these hopes,
They're so heavy
They're crushing my bones
Please strengthen me with your grace
Sustain me with your love
May I witness miracles each day
For I have decided to live by faith

Isaiah 46:4

Even to your old age and gray hairs
I am He, I am He who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you;
I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

Another Thought

Hope becomes impractical, when love become inconvenient.

Clarifications

Some of you have probably seen the articles on the newspaper featuring me as an "MVP". This is part of Pharmaton's campaign to encourage more people to make valuable contributions to society. I liked the campaign because I've always believed that private institutions can and should use their resources to help the public good in a way that also makes sense from a marketing perspective. I say this because I believe that for any relationship to work, whether it's a marriage, a friendship, for work, or even for inter-organizational or inter-sectoral areas, it has to be a win-win situation. You cannot sustain a relationship when one party is always winning and the other is always losing. This is something we've always realized and respected in the foundations we are a part of: collaborate and look for a win-win. Based on the feedback and participation of people in the Pharmaton MVP campaign, I would say this is a good example of big business serving the public good as well as their private bottom-line - which isn't a bad thing since they're a business after all.

There are two things I want to say though regarding the campaign, two things I want to clarify. Sometimes, well actually, many times, media makes things bigger than they really are and more amazing than reality and that's why I'm writing this. 

First things first, I didn't found or co-found Real LIFE. Dr. Joey Castro did when he started helping the students in Pasig. It wasn't called Real LIFE yet. It wasn't called anything. But the spirit of what would become Real LIFE began with him back then, and it's the spirit where seeds are planted. My involvement started when I graduated from the Ateneo and joined Dr. Joey to help "organize" (if that's what you call organizing) his program into a foundation that was named Real LIFE. I guess this is where the mixup happens, because not many people knew about what Dr. Joey was doing before the whole Real LIFE "institutionalizing" and "branding" took effect and had Doc and I closely associated. I want to be clear about this, not because this matters to Doc, the guy is the humblest man I know and doesn't care about these things, but because it matters to me that Doc gets the credit he deserves.

Second, aside from Doc's work, Real LIFE has grown as fast as it has thanks to the leadership of Lynn Nawata and our very hardworking team Sony, Vince, Rhia (who was our first team member), and Ariel. I recently had lunch with Doc and we were talking about how proud we are of this team, and how they've taken Real LIFE to a level of organizational excellence the two of us could never have brought it to. The Real LIFE Center stands today because of their handwork, as well as the dedication of Mailleen Hern who recently passed away. We have more scholars than ever because of them too. The LIFE Program exists because of their research and execution. Again, this doesn't matter to them, but it matters to me that they get the credit.

Some of you might ask, "So what was your part?" Well, I was the big-haired guy in the video. Seriously, the way I see it, Doc lit a candle, which I took and set a few hearts on fire, which Lynn and the team took and turned it into a flamethrower.

I'm writing this so that we won't miss the essence of the Pharmaton MVP campaign, which is all about celebrating the contributions of everybody and highlighting that each of us in our own way can make a difference. You don't have to do something big, you can start small. You don't have to be special, you're already a valuable part of the mix. I'm also writing this so that people don't start thinking I'm this super guy - which is an expectation I'm bound to let down. I'm just blessed to have worked with good people and to be a part of things greater than me. Other than that there really is nothing big about me. 

Well, maybe except my hair.

Hellen

I wrote this in August of 2007. I was 23 years old.

I was suppose to meet up with some friends but felt like I really didn't want to see too many people I knew, so I decided to have a quiet dinner with a book on global corruption (A Game As Old As Empire - read it, it's very interesting), and my journal to write and draw on. I went to look at art materials after (I'm suppose to be an artist now, so I can rationalize these purchases) and realized that the only color I needed was the color they lacked - White! I found it really interesting when the salesgirl tried to sell me something else in place of white:

Salesgirl: Sorry sir, we don't have white eh.
Me: That's alright. Thanks.
Salesgirl: We have a lot of black if you like.
Me: That's ok. Thank you.
Salesgirl: How about brown sir?

I figured it was late, and she had been working the whole day, that she no longer remembered that you can't paint a "white" flower with "black" or "brown" paint. I did appreciate her very pleasant attitude and willingness to help me. (Maybe she thought I painted with bleach.)

My last stop was suppose to be a bookstore that I frequent on lazy nights. The manager is very friendly and never fails to ask me what my new "escapade" is, and always asking questions about Afghanistan. He's much older, turning 59 this year I believe, and reads about almost anything (this is why we get along). Since it was nearing closing time I asked him if he would like to have coffee for a bit. He thought that was a good idea, closed shop, and we sat down with some cappuccino for him and tea for me.

I had a great time conversing with him on a multiple of disciplines and arenas, from art, to classical music and opera, to history, religion, and polictics and economics. In conversations like this, I prefer to listen and ask questions. By virtue of the fact that the guy has been alive more than twice as long as I have, he's got to have more to say. I found his stories very interesting, and I was happy to talk to someone who appreciated Debussy, Saint-Saens, Hosseini, and Chernow as much as I.

Then I asked him if there was a family he went home to, and he said there was none. That really changed the mood of things. Sometimes I wonder why I ask these things. Reminds me of when Stephen and I grilled one of his employees on which of his two girlfriends he loved more. (That's a differnt story.)

He told me that he had never gotten married. I asked him why not, and I will never forget his answer, nor the longing in his face as he told me, "There was someone once. She was a ship that came and passed. What went wrong? We started thinking about the 'what fors' and lost the 'what ifs'." I appreciate style, but I normally like to talk in English, so I asked him to explain.

We talked about how at the start of things, their relationship was all about the what ifs. It was all about the possibilities. "What if we do this? What if we take a trip? What if we settle down here or buy a house there?" Everything was an option as long as they were together. But the realities of life eroded what they had, and the impracticality of the possibilities removed initial considerations. Situations and circumstances proved less than ideal. At the end of it all, they found themselves questioning what they had. "What is all of this for? Is all the effort worth it?"

I guess they didn't think so. They'd probably be together if they thought otherwise.

He did leave me with some take home. He told me:

"Never trade the possibilities for the practical compromises. Mediocrity is Monstrosity. You can not settle. All the masters, from painters to singers to athletes to heroes, there is a passion, almost an obsession, for something, sometimes something unattainable. That is why they're masters. Either you give it everything or you don't. When you hold back, your expectations will never be met, and you will inenvitably question what, that thing you once enjoyed, is for."

(I never got to ask him if he noticed that a lot of the "masters" were depressed and quite unstable. He could have told me that the "what ifs" are basically his stylized way of talking about the possibilities, and the "what fors" are the questions he asked when things got difficult. )

I paid for the bill and I thanked him for an interesting conversation. Then I went home, tried to type this blog, practiced piano, and went to bed.

I remember asking him what her name was.
Lost in his thoughts, with a faraway look, he told me, "Her name was Hellen."

Times Like These

Beauty refined by pain
The remains of my heart
Are a million pieces
Held together by stitches of hope

But that is how you know
That faith is strong
That hope never fails
And that the love you hold is true

Psalm 147:4

He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name.

Psalm 146

Praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD, O my soul.

I will praise the LORD all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.

Do not put your trust in princes,
in mortal men, who cannot save.

When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;
on that very day their plans come to nothing.

Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the LORD his God,

the Maker of heaven and earth,
the sea, and everything in them—
the LORD, who remains faithful forever.

He upholds the cause of the oppressed
and gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets prisoners free,

the LORD gives sight to the blind,
the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down,
the LORD loves the righteous.

The LORD watches over the alien
and sustains the fatherless and the widow,
but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.

The LORD reigns forever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the LORD.

Psalm 139: 23 -24

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

If You Find

If you find you're facing life all alone
Don't lose hope
I'm right here

If the day has a crazy mind of its own
Don't despair
We'll be crazier

In the storm,
We'll go running in the rain
When it shakes,
We'll go dancing to the beat

Of our hearts