Finally had my ideal BMI: 22.8.

Alive

When was the last time we are thankful for being alive? Perhaps we are taking life for granted for tomorrow comes as usual. Sometimes we had moments that made us feel like saying "it's good to be alive!" I'm sure it is such a wonderful experience, but do we need to wait for it to remind us something to be thankful for? The fact that we could breathe, feel our body and those around it, feel our aliveness, our very own existence, isn't this reason enough to rejoice in every moment?

Weight of Words

I don't understand the meaning behind the songs of Enya, yet listening to her always brings me to this "place", call it peace (or it could be more than that), whatever, the words no longer matter. I just know because I felt it. Life has many ways of bringing us "there", a place where we felt closer to our Being, to God. Listen to a relaxing instrumental piece, look at a painting, or a flower, smell the rain, feel the wind. The list goes on. There is an absence of words, yet they are all capable of taking us "there." Literature, is no different, except that it rely on the power of words. But we shouldn't be too obsessed with words, for it only serves to take us "there" as well. Sometimes we mistakenly attach our sense of self to it. "This is my philosophy!" one might say. Then we start to argue with others over what? A mere difference in a play of words, when probably, both are meant to take us to the same "place." It is sad but true, but such is the case with religion. We put too much weight in words as if it is the most important thing, instead of serving as light, it blinds us, replacing what truly matters. And when that happens, words is all you have, for you have lost touch with the reality for which they point to.

Peaceful day

I do not know if it was the music of Enya, but I felt so peaceful that day. It happened only recently. I was sitting on our veranda, wearing a contented smile. I wasn't even thinking of my achievements, totally unmindful of my past and future. I was simply appreciating the things around me--spending an afternoon playing with our dog and hearing the kids playing on the street. That moment is all I have, yet I felt happy, peaceful. It was something. In my mind, I was wishing good life to all people, even to those unfriendly towards me. I was in a selfless state and it makes me wonder. How could one who hasn't achieve much in the world feel this kind of contentedness and peace? Somehow, it implies that happiness does not lie in the future. Happiness, joy, peace, love, all of these are available to us now, we only need to realize from within.

Do's and Don'ts in Spirituality

As you deepen your spirituality, you may be tempted to fall into your ego's clever trap, and this is to claim spiritual superiority.

Thoughts on Fulfillment

Is the seeking of fulfillment really necessary, can't we just accept life as it is, live each moment the best we can, and not consciously try to attain fulfillment through our actions. In living this way we honor life and God. Fulfillment is not something that we can force life to give us. We can't say "I have done everything right," therefore I should feel fulfilled.

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Could it be that once we reach the point that we let go our obsession of self-fulfillment, and simply accept life as it is, we become fulfilled?

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Isn't it arrogant for someone to claim he is fulfilled? Isn't this delusional? How can one guarantee he will stay in that state forever? If you are fulfilled, why the need to say it? If you have it, then it's there, you do not have to convince anyone.

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Why are we always trying to find fulfillment in the future? Doing so implies that we are presently unfulfilled, and therefore unsatisfied and unhappy.

God's presence

Sometimes we find ourselves in awe upon seeing the beauty of nature and we say to our self, I can feel God's presence here, as if to imply that God suddenly made an effort to be there. In truth, God is always there. It is only our state of consciousness that actually changes.

Just write!

What's stopping me from writing when I know in my heart it is something that I wanted to do? As I reflect, I come upon these questions:

Am I afraid that others may find what I write boring, ordinary, and shallow? Surely it is great to write an interesting piece, but to please someone is secondary. I write primarily to express myself.

Am I writing to create an impression? To prove that I can write and show how a great thinker I am. So that people will see me as a philosopher or a great story teller. Am I not using my skill to create an identity for myself, where the resulting identity becomes the motivation and not the act itself?

Am I writing in the hopes that I will be recognized one day? In that case, I am motivated by some future reward, and not by the act itself.

Am I being a perfectionist, waiting for a perfect subject and the perfect words that will surely interest many readers? I don't think so. I dare to forge ahead, make mistakes, rather than wait for the perfect moment ending up not creating anything at all. I will let my writing reflect the evolution of my life.

I am none of these, and I hope these very questions will serve to remind me of what not to become. I am not a writer, and I am not even hoping to be considered as such. I simply do the act because I love to, nothing more, nothing less.