When Honour Meets Envy

I have often mused about the trappings of an adult life and the definition of it. Allegorical questions like what it takes? how it works? who to look to? and where it leads? are but a few of the more abstract anonymities that vexes my mind this morning.

But perhaps the grayest conundrum of all is the question of WHEN?

When to be strong and vulnerable?
When do you persist in the face of futility?
When do you give up?
And when do you honour?

The list of rhetorical questions will undoubtedly go on perpetually because life is also a life-long learning process of mistakes. When you unveil the curtains of interweaving mendacities, you will regard the underpinning truth of it all - where all the answers are already entwined within our own beliefs and faiths.

Most of the things we do in life are a series of mistakes - of us missing to understand the stakes of our actions against everyone and everything around us. Its affectations have long since being the keystone to the way we conduct ourselves with the dynamics of our surroundings and the capriciousness of human nature.

I just have to go out into the world, bring along a mirror and look into it. I will see that being a grown-up comes with a lot of emotional responsibilities and mental acuity as I gaze into the people and world around me through my own indistinct reflection.

We all stand on our own patches of grass that it is always easier to look at someone else's pasture and justify all the fallacies for our desire on it. Each day in our waking moments, we have to contend with the achievements and failures of others - dealing out determining decks of judgment cards to them in hopes we may have some sort of précis from it all.

As others grow in stature and feat, there are individuals who cannot face the fate of a man's affluence. I will not lie to myself by claiming I am above such notions. Like everyone, I am only human. It is the capacity in which we bring ourselves back to solid grown and steadfast affinity that perhaps will define us for the character we could be.

People come and go. We lose and gain new friends from time to time. Successes will come knocking at your doorsteps many times, so does failure. We are not oblivious to the accomplishments of others, nor are we absently empathic of their defeats. Ultimately, everyone wants to see themselves better than others and we all strive to do that in our lifetime.

I just want to remind myself that no matter how well others do in life, I should never compare. Even more so if that person is a friend because life is more than just about the paycheck you receive at the end of the month, the key in your pocket that opens the door to a high-end property or the turbo sound of your ride coming when you sent your valet.

It is about acknowledging the reality that it is in the character of very few men to honour without envy a friend who has prospered.

Stoned Arrow

If there is ever a day that I could be more incensed by someone or something than today...

Be that as it may, I was enraged by this person beyond words. My demeanor was seething with venomous focus, my veins livid with noxious gush, and my tongue ravenous with spiteful utterances and malicious intent. I could feel my jaws clenching under the tremendous restraint and my muscles straining to liberate itself from my frame of equanimity.

This is a recollection about someone who believes himself to be of higher stock than others. A vermin who sits so comfortably on his roost that he can no longer feel earth beneath him nor see his own legs, eclipsed by his potbelly. A soul who's only sole purpose in life that is not yet revealed is to make the people around him feel thankful for not being what he is.

What started as an initiative on my part to seek help and better performances resulted in an all-out war of words with the scum. An engagement that was largely his responsibility to support my querries ended up with him "educating" me in the importance of doing my job right from the start by his own right.

Even before I initiated the first communiqué, I was wrestling with my conscience of whether to rope in his superiors for my enquiries; as an indication of his incompetence and oversight and also as an accelerator in harvesting prompt reply from his gangrenous hands and festering mouth.

Perceptive consideration took the better of me. I limited the list of audience to him only. But he had the fool's courage to reply by roping in his and my superiors, much to my joy and amusement. In his response, he critiqued on everything that I asked which spawned from objective intentions of seeking help and rectifying matters. The very kind of reply you would consider as a no-contest. He was wrong.

For the backing I received from my benefactor, I fired home with a 30 minute composition of factual responses with logical system knowledge and reasoning behind kindergarten common sense. Saving the best for last, the icing on the cake was an additional last-gasp addition to the mailing list - to an overall leader 2 levels above.

At this point, subsequent chronicles of this story is no longer relevant nor a requisite. The purpose of this is just to remind me of how silly people can be when they come from higher places. Every man and woman is an equal. So talk down on others at your own risk. At the end of the day, he will be known as the Brave Fool who threw a stone and received a volley of arrows.

I need not fear individuals like this in my life. I need to remember to be true to my convictions and principals and never compromise under pressure.

Today I learned that there is nothing to fear even when you are surrounded by enemies on all sides. This should be an excellent position. Why? Because you can attack from any direction!

Broken Twig

It is remarkable sometimes how far people would go just to make sure they are superior to others. Human beings are probably the only known lifeforms to kill and do harm to one another, be it physically or emotionally, for reasons other than pure instinctual survival.

In the past few months, I was swimming across torrent seas with raging winds that cut to the core of my bones. This very sea - the large body of water where I have navigated for 3 years now, is no longer the environment that I have come to respect.

This milieu of mild misgivings muttered meanings of malicious mayhem into my mind.

The people that have helped, supported and admired me for the longest time suddenly abandoned ship and left me forsaken on a derelict vessel from where its stirring philosophies and beliefs inspired blind loyalty from me when I came aboard the ship, hauled the anchor of naivete and set sail into the limitless horizon of possibilities.

With the constancy fading, I sculled my way aboard my diffused dinghy onto the shores of self-reflection clinging onto my self-worth on these sands of solitude. Every moment of the way, I kept hearing those uninspiring words of wrath that did so much harm to my poise.

A castaway on this island of intent, I gazed faraway to the other side of the world at my Plateau and resolved not to return there for a period. I know that being in that place will make me wallow in my self-pity.

I thought then that being away for a time from the Plateau will heal me but it only served to starve me of my connection and my bond. For a time, I thought I did not recognize myself anymore. I know better now.

So I'll say this to anyone on this island as I dig my feet into the earth: I am going home and I will not let the actions and words of a select few from Point Vantage dissuade me anymore. I know why I did what I did and it was folly of them to judge me too soon. Because once I am judged, forever I will arbitrate the intentions of these people...

...because if you think I am dirt, then I'll tell you that I am the soil which grow trees and you are only a broken twig.

The Fallen Angels

I have often thought about angels and their origin. Even the mere fact of their existence has always been a matter of belief to me and their susbsistence a quintessence of believing. In my thoughts, I catch fleeting glimpses of sporadic settings laid between walls of infinite insights and anchored veracity. It is here at the hedge of my poignant reveries I discern the epitome of an angel...a seraph among us within the sea of waking souls and walking consciousness.

It is only recently that I realize the closest archetype of an angel resembles that of woman-kind. The embodiment cannot be closer as how these creatures of God have such an affable role in mankind, so to speak.

All I know is that lately I have grown more and more attached to the beatific allure of one such celestial being in my life. Whatever the pursuits we are striding through now, we are doing it with indulgent solidity and perceptive solidarity. I have never been this articulate in my affirmation. Be that as it may, privations in our disparity darts here and there unbriddled occasionally and sometimes it becomes the bane to our steadfast affinity.

But as I look around me in constant oddity, I see many female friends of mine who once walked the self-determining path have laid waste to their trail of misbegotten solitude. It is so easy for them to forsake one's aeriel bequest for the prospect of an earthen life filled with verve. For I can testify that there is no greater joy than being able to share your life's hopes and dreams with regrets and disappointments to a significant other whom you can so unselfishly devote to with your most altruistic reverence.

It is from this perch among the heavenly aeries that these eventual earth-bounded seraphs of our time shed the lamenting feathers of their yearning and make the graceful leap of faith into the protective and soothing arms of men. It is what these beings of worldly origins give up that men had lost in sight but is starting to gain in faith again.

For women were once angels in heaven, when they met the men they love, they then broke their wings.

Untitled

Let this day be the day I remember...

The devotion,
The kindness,
The care,
The love.

Also let this be the day I will keep in my deepest most grudge...

The selfish,
The materialistic,
The hypocrits,
The insensitives.

I need not words or entries or lessons learned to remind me.
I need only the following to rescue me:

Dear Lord, I pray to You for the right thing to happen. So that I may live the days ahead guilt free and vengeance free.

The Faithless Believer

I have always looked in envy of other families that embrace, live and understand the greater intricacies of familial kinship. Gazing at these little pockets of copious solidarity through my love-tinted glasses, I fervently venerate the jaunty adulation witnessed in silent reverie for as long as I can remember.

Of course, someone will constantly remind me that the grass is always greener on the other side. That may be true but only to the extent of its unembroidered meaning. I would think that this is the case because we look across to the greener side where the light shines brighter. I will then say we should let in more light into our own lives instead of counting on the luminosity from the other fount.

Whatever the reason or circumstances we all find ourselves in, it never is pleasant or heartening to learn of a friend's adversity. The story that was shared made me realize that in a larger world, we're all going through the same endeavour at home. We are no different than our neighbours, colleagues, friends and other passing acquaintances in our life.

I used to pity myself a lot and I still do nowadays. The insidious discontentment I have inside built from years and years of enduring the contemptible in my sanctuary has spawned me into two things from my chasm of careless whispering - the faithless believer and the desirous dreamer.

That is why when I see the beginnings of a similar chronicle happening unto a close friend, I cannot help but to be supportive and understanding. It has also make me search deeper within my soul to better understand my own probity. Virtue as I see it, is wielded like a double-edged sword. No matter where it slashes, you are the one grasping its hilt. When it has executed your will, you sheathe the sword of withered belief back into its scabbard of virtuous rectitude.

When the seemingly unbreakable trust in a family crumbles down after years of storming through all kinds of weather, you start to wonder about many things and question the weight and intimacy of its origin. The layers of trust in a family is interlaced with sinuous lies and truths. As the saying goes - it takes years to build trust but seconds to destroy it. What the storytellers failed to continue divulging is that Lies is its number one nemesis.

When a group of emotionally interdependent creatures realize that even the most steadfast among them can succumb to the wiles of a sinner's sin, it is truly heartbreaking to listen - even more so to be the one living through it.

I do not know how we will all pick ourselves up from here. I do not know what holds for us in the futurescape of an uncertain and seemingly lost cause, at least for my part. I do not wish to open up myself again because my sword has a broken hilt.

I can only pray and hope the best for those joining into the fray now and continue to be my own desirous dreamer...no more the faithless believer whose own dreamwalking reflection echoes the ripple of yesterday's promise.

From the tranquility of the still waters I can understand how it is that lying makes a problem part of the future while the truth makes a problem part of the past.

Knitted Strands

What is the hardest thing in life?

It is not something that can be measured. It certainly isn't something concrete, its tangibility long washed away by the waves of relentless qualms. It is something that is not discernible and yet fathomable, something that is not understandable yet comprehended, and something that is not obvious yet painstakingly apparent. Its verity actually a travesty of its former self.

It's single most dominating mannerism would be the pretentious palpability of ungrateful souls. Souls that have forgotten, taken for granted, misplaced trust, strayed loyalty, and most grievous of all, losing the pure faith of other unswerving souls.

In every life connection we each make throughout our lifetime, each strand of bond we sew unto other acquaintances along the journey are like determining dominos that ricochets off the wall of cogent reckoning padded with layers of faith and belief. It is the porous nature of these layers that is the coercive aspect of this relationship dynamics which allows us to accept, nurture, forgive, forget, heal, learn and renew.

Every now and then some of these strands are knitted together into a circle of closer affiliations. It is here where the ball of closely-knitted strands start to roll that eventually it becomes so entangled and entwined that it is almost impossible to untie it. One could cut it but what if these strands are made of tougher materials?

The only way is to burn this ball of intertwined amity with the searing fury of the fieriest inferno that can destroy and melt away the strongest and deepest of relations to the very last fiber of it.

In the last couple of weeks, I learned that the hardest thing in life is knowing which bridge to cross and which bridge to burn.

Timing Cry

Time was not linear. Far, far from it. Time wrapped in on itself, converged and entwined and embraced events and feelings and moments, then danced away into separate gleaming, shining, precious strands that stood alone and resonant before merging again into the vast stream.

The Preserver rested and dreamed, and time wove itself in and around and through him. Memories fluttered through his mind like gossamer-winged insects: a word that shattered centuries, a thought that changed the course of a civilization. Individuals whose insights and aspirations and even greed and fear turned seemingly inalterable tides of destiny into something new and fresh and hitherto inconceivable. Moments where everything teetered precariously on a crumbling brink, where something as intangible as an idea would send everything hurtling into oblivion or pull it back to safe, solid ground.

Each thought, word, deed, life was a mere drop in the vast ocean of time, constantly merging and separating to merge again. The concept would challenge some minds, the Preserver knew; but his mind had been destined to hold such contradictions as things being separate and having no separate identity. Grasping such elusive concepts was what he was born for.

Over all these thoughts of words and lives and ideas floated a terrible urgency and fear. Time was not linear; time was shifting and changing. But there were patterns that floated to the surface, their interwoven strands so clear and strong that even the dimmest minds could grasp them. Inevitability? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Again and again the pattern appeared in the swirling waters of time and destiny and luck, submerging and manifesting with a cold precision that made even the Preserver quail.

All the knowledge he held was precious; every memory, every sound, scent, sensation, voice, word, thought. All were vital to his being.

But this knowledge, of the pattern that had happened so often before and was about to happen again–ah, this was what made the Preserver more than important to his time.

It was what made him indispensable.

He opened to what was out there, every second that ticked by in its nonlinear, unique majesty challenging him to close in on himself, to not expose himself to the pain of the debris caught in the swollen river.

He could not allow himself such luxuries.

Not when the horrific knowledge of what had come before, and what was certain to come again, polluted the waters of time in his psyche.

He summoned all his energy, and sent forth the cry.

Of Skis, Guitars and Guns

I guess being on the road can be a harrowing experience if one lets it. For me, the 24 hours travelling time I clocked yesterday weaved by easily. It is amazing what the loneliness and solitary mood escorting me at the outset can be a rousing force to put a ceasefire to my lonesomeness. I met about three to four different characters throughout my journey - people whom I never would have thought I would know in my life.

On my first leg of the journey, I sat beside a couple who was returning to Sweden. We warmed up to each other almost as soon as I took my seat. We mostly talked about vacation spots particularly in Bali and they kept mentioning how beautiful and nice KL was. They briefly visited KL just a few days ago and wanted to return for a longer trip next year and asked me for some recommendations. I broached the subject of visiting Sabah and they were convinced, I hope they see it through. We even shared a common interest for skiing and I now know the spots to go to if I ever visit Sweden. These were very polite, humble and nice people. They asked about my job and purpose to New York, I even found out their first grandchild was born a week earlier and they can't wait to see him. They even shared a little about their marriage - marrying at the age of 20! When we parted at Arlander, it was with a sense of apparent friendship. They kept on reminding me how beautiful KL is, and how great and friendly its people are.

I met another interesting character on my way from Stockholm to Newark. Here was a lady who just got married a couple of weeks back and was missing her husband so, so badly even though he was just 20 rows behind us. I found out that she manages 3 local rockbands in Sweden and her husband discovered the 3 bands and also co-managed them with her. She is more on the administrative side and her husband more to the talent discovery and song production side. She let me hear some of the songs they produced and although I do not understand most of the words, the tune was very nice. I liked it very much. They were going to Brooklyn to visit the husband's family after their marriage and we talked a little about meeting the right person of your life and doing the things you love with the person you love - there can be no greater joy, or at least one of life's greatest joys. And these two were hardcore rockers that came complete with the tattoo and piercing package. They were dating for 17 years before tying the knot.

The final character was by far the most interesting. I met him at the arrival in Newark airport. He was my driver. During the trip to the hotel, we began our conversation with the usuals - weather, journey, time, vacation spots and the likes. Eventually I learned more about him. This chap was formerly in the army and was an army detective during the Vietnam wars. He was stationed there for 2 years and completed his tour of duty in '68 just before the US pulled their troops out of there in '69. He then enlisted in the police force and then became a detective in the NJPD. This career of his lasted 27 long years and he has been to many parts of the world and seen many things. He was asked to join the NYPD but declined many times for reasons he only wish to leave it as - he loves life. He spent the next 17 years in semi-retirement as a limousine driver. His grandson is enlisting to become a member of the NYPD and he owns a house in a small island in the Bahamas where the water is only 48 feet from his house. He is divorced, does not speak freely of his wife and children and has strong reservations against the current leader of his country.

I finally arrived safely at New York and realized that meeting these people truly has added to my perspectives in life. But recalling all these people I met along the way and the conversations I had with them - I can't help but see the irony in all that has happened to me or around me the past 24 hours or so. Some people are too refrained in living their lives, some has too many open-ended outcomes, while others use sincerity as a weapon to smother the doubts in their hearts. We are all knowledgeable in our own ways and using it to assist us in the best way to live our daily lives. It is not our job to judge others for what they think, do or feel.

The paradox of an informed society is that over a period of time, it is susceptible to bias towards the same sources that project powerful information.

The Other Glass Story

I could only sit still in silent sympathy as I watched him digest the news of the passing of one of his closest friends. The abridgement was overwhelming and his staggered silence was the greatest testament of all to his loss.

The passing of one individual that day rattled the entire household and unnerved us all. It felt like He took away something or someone that was part of our lives in one instant and then expunged all emotional connection and relation that was ever existent and replaced our temporary void hearts with that of blissful ignorance. At least that was how I felt...

The suddenness was unsettling, epsecially towards him. I feel for him because to be at such an age now where you have fewer friends and even fewer true friends, this loss is significant. Plans for the entire day were cancelled in exchange for self-imposed mourning. Walking down the lonely path of remembrance was what he needed as he viewed flashbacks after flashbacks of his own vivid hallucinatory images of what once was and what it could have been.

I pitied him even more so as I approached him. The creases and wrinkles on his face was deeper and more defined that afternoon, filled with deep apprehension and sorrow. There was nothing much I could do, or say...as I walked away. I knew he was embracing this loss and strengthening himself up. It was the only thing he was in control of, his feelings.

As I comtemplated on this turn of events, I realized how old he has become and how fragile he is becoming. Time which was once a measure of wealth has now become a gauge for longevity. The permanence of his existence and purpose in this world are now measurable, distinct and variable. I knew he felt like what if it was him instead.

And I can relate to his feelings. After all, the person in question was a man of great stature with enviable humility. He was one who despite his achievements overseas, remain a very down to earth man and to be in his presence was to be humbled by him. A person who placed his family first above all else, a man who provided unceasingly and abundantly and a friend who cared unconditionally and indiscriminately. It is also because of all these traits that he was highly valued by his company, widely known for his commitment and dedication beyond his scope of responsibilities.

When I looked back at the man sitting downstairs, I see so much resemblance in both and I feared the worse. I can only pray and hope to Him that he will start to realize that he is still working too hard for his age and he should start to let go, first by learning to trust others and then loving himself more. It would be such a pity for one to work so tirelessly and provide ever abundantly only to not able to enjoy the fruits of your own labour and nurture your legacy in the end. That man left behind a wife and a daughter and I sincerely pray for them to be strong in weathering the life ahead.

At the end of the day, I thought to myself that life is not so much about getting the highest paying job or the most rewarding job or the best track to career supremacy. Working should be viewed as a way of life, not living your life away with it.

I could only imagine that family's loss when I think of the things that their father would have wanted to do with them still, the marriage in which he wished to walk his daughter down the aisle with, the grandchild he had hoped to carry one day and knowing that at the end of his tenure on earth one day, he could finally rest satisfactorily knowing that his life was not measured by the number of breaths he had taken but by the number of moments that took his breath away. I sincerely wished that for him for he was such a fine man. But often in life, we do not get what we want, sometimes not even what we wanted for others.

It is cruel...

I will never look at certain things the same again because seeing one man who has already done it, and living with one who is doing it is not an easy task. As much as how we are all taught to believe that everything happens for a reason and God always has plan for everything, I could easily as well look at my life in a perspective of a half-full glass rather than a half-empty glass.

But there is another side of this 'glass' story that few of us realize. Imagine holding a glass filled with water. It is not about how heavy the glass is or what is the weight of the water inside. The key lies in how long do we hold this glass. It is easy to hold it for a few meager minutes but as the duration lengthens and the minutes become hours and the hours become days (if that is even possible), the act becomes tougher until it reaches impossibility. It is simply the longer we hold it, the heavier it becomes.

Looking back at our life and how we balance it with our work, holding this same glass of water reminisces the way we handle our work stress. If we carry our burden all the time and bring home our stress for the most parts, sooner or later this uncompromising weight will come crashing down on us. We have to learn to put things down for awhile like resting the glass of water after a few minutes only to carry it again, and again and again. When we are refreshed, we can continue on carrying the burden.

Work is never ending but our life will end one day so learn to let things go everyday and never carry it home. You can just easily pick it up tomorrow.

As to the bereaved family, I pray for them strength and hope that they do see the only way to show others that they are strong is to be weak in their hearts, but stay remembered...