Archive for September, 2010

It is much easier to believe that you don’t love me or that you will leave me, than to address to why I am still holding on to you when I don’t love you. And to say I don’t love you is also not true, because there is a part of it that feels like it. I have to use the word ‘love’ you see, for the feelings, words and actions experienced are described as such, and that is my idea which has been living with me for so long. Yet deep inside me I know it is not really what it seems to be. But I hang on to you anyway, because of the feeling that I love you, so I conclude it has to be love! But soon you will see I will start accusing you that you don’t love me again, or say that you will leave me despite how much you have expressed or shown me how true your love is for me.  And I will scheme against you, just to make sure that you prove to me that you really do not love me and have always wanted to leave me. I know this sounds absurd but it is just easier to put the blame on you, then to fully address what is in me. I don’t really care what you think. I just need my needs fulfilled.

When I begin to be honest with myself and see what is within me, I will begin to realize that the love I have for you is there but not pure. If love is not pure, then is it still love? If it has qualities; albeit subtle; of manipulation, wherein lies the love that I know cannot be abhorred? I can argue with the world how love is defined by a description of certain feelings, certain actions or certain qualities which I experience with you just to prove that I do love you, yet at the same time collect solid evidence how you are the one who don’t love me, and how you have betrayed me. But no matter how much I say or do or try to make you wrong, I can never run away from myself – for I know that the issue here is not about you not loving me, but me not loving me; because there has never been a you, and I never needed you.

Do I love myself enough to hold on to you to fulfill a malicious need in me, even if it means that at times I will have to dishonor myself in doing things I do not wish? Or do I love myself enough to let you go, and start to seek for another to fill in the void? But where would I be, but back at the doldrums of the pit – back at where the shit begin, where the shit lay? And round and round I will go in cycles, because I am seeking for something, and yet not knowing where to find it, so I become like a shameless whore, a beaten victim, unloved and unworthy of anything or anyone that comes along the way.

I may drown myself in sorrows, dramatizing how cruel the world is and how I have been used. Hasn’t it been the same when I had held on to you just so I could make use of you? Why is it that it is easier to make you the wrong, when in truth, I am the ultimate director of this whole storyline? Not only am I the director, but the scriptwriter and too, the actress. Honesty without veracity – how I am still left with nothing more.

If I am unable to love myself, how could I ever love you – for I will then sell myself short, and hate you for what I would have myself do unto me. That is not Love, though it will look like it – what selfless sacrifice, they would all say! That is just love which is illusionary and unreal, manipulative and suffocating.

A teacher once told me that all relationships are illusionary, and soon I cannot help but to agree. If there is to be a relationship born out of Love, then wouldn’t it entail a sense of freedom, which is purposeless save for the Lover and the Beloved expressing Love for themselves through one another? Yet as paradoxical as it is, the innate Love that I am makes my love for you so sensuously delightful even without you having to do anything. So where is Love coming from, except from within me?

I will need sheer honesty with myself from the space of integrity in order to come clean with myself and you. It is until I begin this that there’d be an absolute chance that our love would dissolve and thus emerged Love.

In that Love are two melted – infused and defused, whole yet transparent.

In that Love – two become one, and one becomes just …


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God, Mundanely

So here I am, was. Why am, because I am, still; why was, because I was, then.

I haven’t been writing these days. Not that there was or is no realizations, or information blessed into the abyss of my mind, just that I felt not any need to write, as if contented just for it to stay within me, rather than expressing it out. I used to write whenever it came, never forgoing a chance just in case I’d forget and it did come to a point in time where if I didn’t write, I’d have a big headache. “Therein lays your fear of forgetting!” said one of my teachers. And then so naturally I began to let go.

Since my guardian angel has gone back to her hometown for more than 3 weeks now, I’d been playing the game of being a housewife. Cleaning, scrubbing, ironing, washing – they didn’t seemed hard, yet in the midst of enjoying these activities, I did begin to wonder how mundane the idea of such activities compared to the once upon a time idea of that I must have a more noble purpose in life – and whatever it was and is, surely a much greater purpose than just a contented housewife! I felt that I was not more spiritual than anybody who was not already on their journey. I was just like a mediocre, more real – a human.

The truth was and is that, I did feel pleased, and truly appreciated the experiences of cleaning the house, mending the dogs and my little girl personally. My hands had never touched so much water ever since I moved into this fortress, and yet, 3 weeks now from the time that she had gone home, my hands are still nice to touch by my standards. And I recall the little rainbows created right before my eyes when the sunlight reflects upon the water that gushes out from the pipe that quenches the thirst of my trees, plants and grass when I water my garden. So, so beautiful… And as mundane and routine as the activity can be, each movement, sight, smell and everything that came into the experience was as spiritual as it can be under the separated judgmental context of ‘being spiritual’.

“What is the difference?” my teacher jokingly asked me when I told him how human I felt, and how I agree with him that when staying present to each experience happening in the Now, it is as Godly as it gets, and God is experienced everywhere in it; within and without.

Am I done? Oh no, not yet… and how would I know? When I am triggered of something that I do still perceive not of God, of what reality is. But, what is God? Is it really reality? As it is? Many have tried to interpret it, yet no words or description can ever define what or who is God. Still, we seem to know of something mystical of this ‘thing’ called God – it touches and kisses the heart so fondly and sweetly.

There is no one time that I am what I think I am, although I seem to be doing a function or playing a role that the society has labeled, nor am I not what I think I am not of which I do not fulfill a purpose which the society has tagged. I am only what He has created me, only as Him, for Him – whatever that of what He is.

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This world you seem to live in is not home to you. And somewhere in your mind you know that this is true. A memory of home keeps haunting you, as if there were a place that called you to return, although you do not recognize the Voice nor what it is the Voice reminds you of. Yet still you feel an alien here, from somewhere all unknown. Nothing so definite that you could say with certainty you are an exile here. Just a persistent feeling, sometimes not more than a tiny throb, at other times hardly remembered, actively missed, but surely to return to mind again.

No one but knows whereof we speak. Yet some try to put by their suffering in games they play to occupy their time and keep their sadness from them. Others will deny that they are sad and do not recognize their tears at all. Still others will maintain that what we speak of is illusion, not to be considered more than a dream. Yet who in simple honesty, without defensiveness and self-deception, would deny he understands the words we speak?

We speak today for everyone who walks this world, for he is not at home. He goes uncertainly about in endless search, seeking in darkness what he cannot find, not recognizing what it is he seeks. A thousand homes he makes, yet none contents his restless mind. He does not understand he builds in vain. The home he seeks can not be made by him. There is no substitute for Heaven. All he ever made was hell.

Perhaps you think it is your childhood home that you would find again. The childhood of your body and its place of shelter are a memory now so distorted that you merely hold a picture of a past that never happened. Yet there is a Child in you Who seeks His Father’s house and knows that He is alien here. This Childhood is eternal, with an innocence that will ensure forever. Where this Child shall go is holy ground. It is His holiness that lights up Heaven and that brings to earth the pure reflection of the light above, wherein are earth and Heaven joined as one.

It is this Child in you your Father knows as His own Son. It is this Child Who knows His Father. He desires to go home so deeply, so unceasingly, His voice cries unto you to let Him rest a while. He does not ask for more than just a few instants of respite­­—just an interval in which He can return to breathe again the holy air that fills His Father’s house. You are His home as well. He will return. But give Him just a little time to be Himself within the peace that is His home, resting in silence and in peace and love.

This Child needs your protection. He is far from home. He is so little that He seems so easily shut out His tiny Voice so readily obscured, His calls for help almost unheard amid the grating sounds and harsh and rasping noises of the world. Yet does He know that in you still abides His sure protection. You will fail Him not. He will go home, and you along with Him.

This Child is your defenselessness, your strength. He trusts in you. He came because He knew you would not fail. He whispers of His home unceasingly to you. For He would bring you back with Him, that He Himself might stay and not return again where He does not belong and where He lives an outcast in a world of alien thoughts. His patience has no limits. He will wait until you hear His gentle Voice within you, calling you to let Him go in peace along with you to where He is at home and you with Him.

When you are still an instant, when the world recedes from you, when valueless ideas cease to have value in your restless mind, then will you hear His Voice. So poignantly He calls to you that you will not resist Him longer. In that instant, He will take you to His Home , and you will stay with Him in perfect stillness, silent and at peace, beyond all words, untouched by fear and doubt, sublimely certain that you are at home.

Rest with Him frequently today. For He was willing to become a little child that you might learn of Him how strong is he who comes without defenses, offering only love’s messages to those who think he is their enemy. He holds the might of Heaven in His hand and calls them friend, and gives His strength to them that they may see He would be Friend to them. He asks but they protect Him, for His home is far away, and He will not return to it alone.

Christ is reborn as but a little Child each time a wanderer would leave his home. For he must learn that what he would protect is but this Child, Who comes defenseless and Who is protected by defenselessness. Go home with Him from time to time today. You are as much an alien here as He.

Take time today to lay aside your shield which profits nothing and lay down the spear and sword you raised against any enemy without existence. Christ has called you friend and brother. He has even come to you to ask your help in letting Him go home completed and completely. He has come as does a little child who must beseech his father for protection and for love. He rules the universe, and yet He asks unceasingly that you return with Him and take illusions as your gods no more.

You have not lost your innocence. It is for this you yearn. This is your heart’s desire. This is the Voice you hear, and this the Call which cannot be denied. The holy Child remains with you. His home is yours. Today He gives you His defenselessness, and you accept it in exchange for all the toys of battle you have made. And now the way is open, and the journey has an end in sight at last. Be still a moment and go home with Him, and be at peace a while.

– Lesson 183, A Course in Miracles


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Filling the Cup of Love

It’s great to love, but another person’s love cannot fill the hole in your heart. Filling up your heart is your responsibility. You need to love and affirm yourself day by day, moment by moment.  Without your love for yourself, no amount of love from your partner is enough.

– Paul Ferrini


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A Princess Story

And the King banished his beloved daughter, the Princess, from the palace to become amongst the peasants so she may learn humanity and compassion.

She was devastated and trembled with much fear.

Her husband; of whose identity was only a commoner prior his union with her, and of whom she tortured with much cruelty; sat beside her to comfort her despite being previously ill-treated by his beloved wife, the Princess.

She told him, “Never had I thought this day would be bestowed me, a Princess to a peasant, amongst the villagers! How will I live without the luxury, servants and jewelries that I have grown up with? How will others look at me? I was a princess and now a peasant! What can I do? Oh dear Prince, tell me, what does a peasant do?”

He held her hand gently, “Every inhabitant in the village has each, his own responsibility. I can farm and you can sew. We can live a simple life and be happy” he told her.

And she shook her head… “But I could never. I am a Princess! Am I not the daughter of the King? And he, who is too my father, now punishes me?”

But she knew. She knew that she deserved it, for she has ill-ed others for the greed of power.

Yet, was she really punished? Or set out to learn a lesson in a place where conditions and limitations are set that may she be humbled, and then rise up to her true self, flourished?

There is no choice, and yet, within her, she knew she had to choose – to remain the ‘Princess’ or to transcend the ‘Princess’ – only one choice will lead her back to where her father, the King has always intended her to be, to where her father is, to where her Home really is…


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What is the Will of God?

What is the Will of God? He wills His Son have everything. And this He guaranteed when He created him as everything. It is impossible that anything be lost, if what you have is what you are. This is the miracle by which creation became your function, sharing it with God. It is not understood apart from Him and therefore has no meaning in this world.

– A Course of Miracles, Chapter 26, VIII, verse 56


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Strangely, I’ve observed that there is this thing about dying and death in my space recently. It is either about a friend passing away, or a friend’s friend, or a friend’s relative, or a friend’s mom. Even in newspaper or one of my preferred blogs, there too was mention of death.

When I heard of a new friend’s mom who passed away a few weeks ago, and her next move to head back to hometown to support her dad, I pondered a little deeper about it. The mind is always like that, if the incident is not related to it, it would not care; but when the incident strikes someone whom it is quite fond of (and I am rather fond of this new friend); it would start its engine to inquire.

I wondered about the funeral – the rituals, the prayers – who is it for? I used to have the impression that these stuffs were for the dead, to assist their journey to a better rebirth or realm and it is up to the children and grandchildren to pray, pray and pray for don’t-know how many days to ensure that the ‘soul’ do not get lost, and that it is ‘guided’. Although I cannot say there is no truth in it, but I also wondered if the whole ritual is more for the living – their perception of giving the dead a last ‘gift’, or accompanying the dead for their last walk on earth. In my perception, the whole process seems to serve more as a completion for the minds of the living.

And I wondered about the moaning, the grief – who is it for? Am I really crying because the person is dead, grieving for the dead person; or am I crying for myself, ill in the heart that I may never see, speak or touch this person again, or perhaps filled with regret that I’ve not done or said enough?

The truth is, what has this dead person got to do with me? If he is not dead, good for him; and if he is dead, good for him too! Unless, there is something in for me, then him being dead or alive would very much effect my being, isn’t it? I remember when my grandfather passed away, I felt nothing. I was not very close to my grandfather at all but when we, as grandchildren held on to the car which the coffin was in that drove to the end of the road, symbolic of sending grandfather off to his journey, I cried heartily. My young cousin surprised, asked me, “Are you crying because you are really sad? Or are you crying because the others are crying?” I loved her honest questions and answered her too, in honesty, that I was crying because I was feeling sad; you see, I suddenly remembered as I saw his picture that I had never experienced a grandfather’s love before, and he was my only grandfather who was then alive, and now dead. I grieved, not for his passing, but for the moments that I never had which in my perception; only he could give to me. Is that true?

Just about a year or so ago, a friend’s brother also passed away, due to an accident. Her mother took it the hardest. When I took the opportunity to drop by before the funeral just to have some quiet time with the family, her father asked me, “How now, G? How now? He is gone! And he is so young. Why couldn’t he have waited?” I cannot know the grievance of a parent or a sister over the death of a child and a brother, though I can somewhat imagine it – and I am sure, it would have been overwhelming.

The thing is, if we are totally present to reality – the death, which is a fact – where is the need to cry or to grieve? If I start thinking of you, of the memories that we had, by going back to the past, I will surely start to miss you because I would have gone into the future too, and imagine moments where you are not there. I will start to feel sick in the stomach and start to cry because I am imagining a future where there is no you. And I would start questioning if I have done enough? If I had said enough? If you have said enough? If you have done enough? And the story goes on and on… and the fact is, it is with 100% certainty, that there is nothing I can do about it. Now, this is brutal truth.

Coming back to the now, have we not experienced moments where the dead is not with us? And weren’t we fine? And BANG! Comes the guilt of not grieving, or enjoying ourselves without the presence of this person who is dead – the should haves, should nots, could haves, what ifs…. Ahh… all violent, violent words…

Having said that, I am not implying that we do not grieve or cry; for there are some many who choose to put aside their own time to grieve because they have to ‘there’ for someone or others to support them. It is important to grieve, if there is grief; to cry, if there are tears; rather than burying these pent up feelings. At the end of the day, it is still back to staying present to one’s own state of mind. To be ‘there’ for another is indeed a noble gesture, but if we are unable to be available to ourselves, who are we kidding to be available for others?

In death, we grieve. We feel that we are crying because the person whom we love has left us. Never mind the guilt which maps out more and more illusionary stories and dramas; but death, is symbolic of something which we had all forgotten. It is the mere separation that we feel most painful about. It is an ugly feeling; ugly because we prefer the opposite of it; but yet, when we truly know that it is the essence of the person, and not the form as in body, that we have recognized and loved, and that very quality is in us; this person lives in our hearts, and has never gone anywhere. You see, everything is symbolic in a conscious state. Where is then the separation?

Most times, we are attached to the form but yet we know that it is the not really the form that we are attracted to, or have deep connection with. It is beyond the form, and we must know that if it is beyond the form – its essence, which cannot be seen or touched – is always felt and savored in quietness and stillness.

If we knew that in death, is simply the death of the vessel, of a shell; that a loved one is once again free, liberated and returning to Source, would we still grief with pain, or celebrate with joy?


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