While You're Single, Set Direction in Your Heart

I know you want to be loved. In a romantic way.

Perhaps, you sometimes imagine yourself ambling along the sea shore. While you cherish the sea breeze grazing your faces, you and your lover leave a trail of your footsteps in the sand. Your hands lace together. Sweet.

How about this. One morning, you wake up at the sound of your cellphone's alarm but it didn't annoy you. Instead, you touched the envelope on your screen, revealing your sweetheart's message:

Good morning. I'll see you later. :) 

You smiled and immediately, prepared for later - taking a bath, brushing your teeth, wearing your best clothes. In your heart, you know that whatever the day has for you, it'll be beautiful because you'll spend time with your sweetheart.

I may not know what other scenes you have in your imagination, but I get it. I know why you want to be loved in a romantic way. Either you've been there or not, you're quite sure it'll give you something to smile about, something to look forward to, or perhaps, a reason for waking up in the morning. You may not feel ecstatic about it every day or in the following years, but the love itself will certainly give inspiration. Romantic love is so beautiful. But you see, there's a potential that your life will revolve around it.

Now, I believe that while you (and I) are not there yet isn't the pressing question. Whenever I'm in the waiting process, I always remember that I am still being transformed in the desert. God sees something about me that should be improved, added, or nourished - things that will make me ready for that thing. And being ready means being at my best state of heart, best frame of mind, or best situation fitting for that thing. Probably, every single day we don't have what we want yet, God saves us from disaster.

Here's one way to prepare: develop singleness of heart. I've read about this from Fr. Green's Opening to God. He said that humans have conflicting desires. He suggested a way not to align them or make them accorded, but to be free from them. He said, "We can have many loves in our lives, but only one center, one sun around which all our other loves are satellites." So yes, there may be other loves but those are just (and must be) means to love more that one in the center. If the other loves conflict with loving the center, it isn't true love.

I know some people who, for some reason, cannot fuse the love of God and love of boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse. I tried to explain it in my mind, asked them if they feel like they're doing something wrong or if they have beliefs different from their lover which make them confused, things like that. There is an apparent reason for a "yes" answer, you see. Otherwise, it could either be because they don't know yet who or what their Sun is or they don't truly love the Sun yet. It is a process, anyway. A slow, painstaking process.

I think it doesn't just apply to loving a person. I, for example, have fondness for many things - teaching, arts, writing, spirituality, music etc., and sometimes, I love them deeply that it preoccupies me that I suddenly get snapped from reverie wondering why again do I desire it that much. There's always a question of "Why am I doing this again?" Always going back to the reason, to the core.

The question for everyone is this: Who is that One center, that One sun of your life?
We decide. I want it to be God. I bet you want it to be God too. You see, it is also about vocations.
Fr. Green also said: "Rosemary Haughton said...the married person comes to the love of God through the love of a spouse, while the celibate comes to the love of people through the love of God."

So while we're waiting for romantic love, for realized dreams, for purpose (for whatever that is) to arrive, I guess it's better that we set direction in our hearts. Have that singleness of heart, and let everything we do be for the love of our Sun, our Center - God.

I hope that made sense.

The Importance of Truth in Writing

In a Place of Truth

I watched this movie entitled Midnight in Paris.

The story's about a writer/novelist who went to Paris with his fiance. One night, he strolled the cobbled streets on his own, and was hailed in a vintage car by revelers - two of them introduced themselves as Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda Sayre.

So yeah, the fortunate man was brought back to the old days where famous writers and artists walked like typical people. One of the remarkable lines uttered by the movie's Ernest Hemingway was this:

"No subject is terrible if the story is true, if the prose is clean and honest, and if it affirms courage and grace under pressure."

Truth. How important is truth in writing?

Audie Gemora, a renowned thespian, said that though acting is called "acting," it's one thing actors/actresses shouldn't do. They have to see it, feel it, experience it - make it exist right in front of them! Otherwise, the act won't look real. It'll only look like acting.

It's the same thing with writing. You see, the best pieces are written in a place of truth. If writers want to make the readers fully experience what's happening in the book, they themselves have to be in the experience - they have to know its truth. How does it feel to be here? What would one think when he/she is in this kind of situation? How would this kind of person react in this situation? Otherwise, the story might look dull and superficial.

Note: They say, people learn best from experience. Let your readers have it through your book.

What is Memoir?

I believe, this makes most memoirs genuine, vivid and beautiful. Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is a memoir. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom is a memoir too, I think. One of the best I've read is the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul. These books are famous for touching millions of lives.

When I typed memoir on Google, it defined it this way:

A historical account or biography written from personal knowledge or special sources. 

That's the beauty of memoir. The plot is already written by Life for you, and you only have to live the experiences again and write. The memoir's reader then walks into the mind of the author and sees things as the author remembers. I agree that fiction writers have the wildest imagination because they have to distort realities - they themselves plan the plot, build the characters, and everything else in the story - and present their truth in that form.

Your truth is worth telling.

I thought mine was, and it has now reached hundreds of people. If you're aspiring to write a book, why not write about your truth? I believe you have a story worth telling. It could be just a portion of your childhood, your love life or a journey you once ventured. Share your experience generously. Begin with recalling each thought, each tear, each smile. And once you know you're in a place of truth, write.

My List of Inspirational Movies

I can't find words for an article lately.

I'm not that okay, honestly. It's my first time to see myself this unmotivated - parched for maybe months - to write anything. Bad days, they call it. Others say it's a transition, which is way better.

So I prayed and searched for, perhaps, muse in other things like 1) painting and sketching,
2) playing the piano, 3) buying my own ukulele and playing it, and 4) watching movies. And yes, these things inspired me, but not to write. Because I got into doing solely these in my free time instead! I couldn't imagine myself abandoning what I sharpened for (I hope) almost 10,000 hours, so I figured I should write about my newly-found hobbies to break the boulder.

Alright, so I start here and get you straight to the point. Among the old and not-too-old movies I've watched recently, here are the five which I found most inspirational:

1. Silence

I put this on number 1 because I've been wanting to share about this since Lent. So yes, I've seen this a long time ago but I'm still putting it here because it's unforgettable. It's about two Jesuit priests (where one was Andrew Garfield, the Spiderman) who went to Japan to find their missing priest/mentor, and found God's silence in Christian persecution instead. If you want to try it, prepare your heart and mind because you'll go swimming in its spiritual depth. And oh, it has a book.

2. The Encounter

I'm putting this on number 2 because I was surprised that a movie called The Encounter was inspirational and not horror. This one's a feel-good movie with an aching twist. Imagine a night with rain pouring angrily, and you found yourself trapped in a remote roadside resto called the Last Chance Diner with four other strangers and - my goodness - a waiter/resto owner named Jesus. The movie was simple yet meaningful. I also think Bruce Marchiano was perfect for the role.

3. The Shack

Spoiler Alert: In the first three movies listed here, the name Jesus will be mentioned.

If you're into inspirational/spiritual movies, I'm sure you have watched The Shack. I read the book years before I saw my imagined scenes on the screen - my laptop's screen. I was delighted to see Mack and Missy come alive. For me, the casting was superb because the characters looked almost the same as I imagined them! This story answers why God allowed our loved ones to die, and many other things that a father would ask when he meets God in the shack where his youngest daughter was murdered. Get tissue rolls.

4. Collateral Beauty

Movies on 4 and 5 won't talk too much about spiritual stuff. This one talks about the collateral beauty one can find in loss.

Everybody knows Will Smith's awesomeness. But look at that, there's also Kate Winslet, Keira Knightly and Helen Mirren in it plus other skilled actors and actresses! OK, it's not just about the casting, but the concept of the story is unique enough to catch attention. This is about a successful and enthusiastic man (Will Smith) whose world crumbled when he lost his only child, and went snail-mailing his rants to Love, Time and Death. Now, it's Love, Time and Death's turn to answer him and defend themselves. Or not. How I wish this also has a book!

5. Into the Wild

This movie's last but not the least.

I put this on 5 because it was the last old movie I watched, and I want you to remember it. Into the Wild is based on a true story, a biography written by Jon Krakauer. It's about Christopher Johnson McCandless (a.k.a Alexander Supertramp) who, after graduating from Emory University, abandoned everything and hitchhiked to Alaska to live in the wild. I actually do not know what to feel about the whole story. Chris might be arrogant, foolish, and whatever, but his detachment to the things of the world and his brave search for real happiness struck me as inspiring. I love the words in this movie too. Aaand I'm reading the book now.

Soooo, there it is! I just wrote an article! I cracked the writer's block, but more than that, I hope this list helped you in anyway. Happy watching!

P.S: I wrote this book entitled Finding You, and perhaps you can grab a copy and read it once you've watched all (or some) of this and feel more like reading. It's inspirational too, by the way! ;)

Why Do I Write Again?

I had forgotten why.

I ignored the muse many times this month because I could not find time for writing. It was painful. I let my pen and paper be squeezed at the bottom of my workload, and it took me some pulling out, whittling down and sickness before I got to them again. To my surprise, when I finally got hold of them, I felt like I no longer know how to write.

My writing skills seemed to have deteriorated. Every day I would be in a room full of space, and have a desk waiting. There, I would sit and write. But not write at all. Not a single word appealed to me and whenever any did, it won't be of beauty. It was a huge writer's block. In those barren days, I saw my writing skills molting before me. And it was because I neglected it, left it in a corner, and forgot about it for a long time.

Or perhaps, it wasn't really about my writing skills.

The black ink resembled my mood. Empty papers felt familiar. And the drear blinks of the cursor resounded the rhythm of my week. Man, it was me all along. I wanted words, but they weren't coming because I was pulling them out from a void or an empty cavern. I was the one deteriorating, the one molting, the one who was empty.

Why do I write again? was the question.

I turned to God for answers. Then I talked to people. Then I rested. Then read books. And read books. And read more books. Then finally, I remembered what I have forgotten.

I forgot the joy of expressing myself with art, of creating a world and bringing my readers in it, of listening to people and immortalizing their stories in paper.

I forgot love.

When the Breeze Blew the Poppies

I had a busy day, running with time in the city.

Something was wrong with our office's management, and all we could do was work, floating along the waves created by their huge hands. My brows furrowed almost every single day without my command. Every night, I yearned for peace. For solitude. For an escape. Until that night came when I had to just sleep all the exhaustion away.

Four hours.

Six hours.

Eight.

I opened my eyes. Such a bright sky. Birds from afar were singing while clouds ambled over me, looking pure and fluffy as usual. I lifted my hand and traced one cloud with my finger. I formed a dolphin. I giggled.

Wait.

I flapped my arms, as if making a snow angel. I realized, I was lying, not in my bed, but in a meadow - cool, sweet-scented meadow. How did I get here?

I sat bolt upright, and looked around me. I was a dot in a huge space of meadow embellished with chamomile. That part from afar had colorful poppies sticking out, though.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

I was dumbfounded, awestruck for quite a long while. Not blinking. Unflinching at the peace that was welling in me. I just could not believe I was there. I looked up again to see the sky's splendor, and noticed the rays of the sun peeking out of a cloud.

That was holy and grand.

I lingered at this some more, mouth agape and rarely moving.

Then came the breeze.

And woke me up.

Drifted

I've been walking for two hours now.

No, I've been shuffling. The sky is dark. The streets are messy as always. Cars whiz past beside me with their exhaust puffing out black, dirty - disgustingly dirty - smoke. But I do not care.

I look straight ahead, but my mind's falling - a listless body that surrenders to gravity - in his world. I have found it hard to enter his world, his new world.

For 8 years, we had known every inch of each other. We knew each other's thoughts even before we spoke them. We talked through stares and gestures only we could understand. But things changed as soon as our feet landed on the bigger world, the real world. In our school and university, we would always cross paths even when we didn't like it. But when we finally had the choice, when we started moving in a much larger space and be with a multitude of people, we began losing each other. He began working, and I too. From then on, we drifted apart, slowly vanishing behind the walls of his hospital and my office.

You see, I've never really known his world. And I will never. So perhaps, my mind isn't exactly in his world at this moment. It is in the possibilities. And this path has more thorns.

And It hurts more.

The Story Isn't Ready Yet

Is your story ready to be written?

I realized, there are stories that aren't ready to be written yet. This means that the blame shouldn't always be placed upon the writer (or better not to blame anything or anyone at all).

Some writers aren't publishing a book yet not because they're sluggish or undisciplined or uninspired. In fact, they might be regularly sitting on clouds, talking face-to-face with the muse about their dreams. Their fingers are itchy, their body bursting with eagerness to spend hungry afternoons and sleepless nights for writing, and their head - their head brims with beautiful words which occasionally spill out but! The words are rather empty. No form. No sense. A beautiful waste. The thing is, these writers could already be carrying a story in their head - a baby in their womb - and it's not coming out yet because it isn't ready yet. Stories undergo gestation too, and it usually is painful.

After Finding You (chance to plug!), I found myself coming in and out of the messiest folder in my laptop which I named Book, and flicking through the less-than-half- to half-full pages of my MS Word files. In it are snippets, drafts and outlines of book ideas which were once exciting and sparkling, but now look corny and banal. You see, I have been spending time squeezing my brain and creative juices out for a second book only to come up with a useless material. Well, not at all useless. These could be pieces of what's coming.

Actually, the idea of Finding You was formed, bit by bit, through my prior book ideas. I entitled one book as Haven in my Pocket. I intended it to be handy and its words, to have an air of peace. It was supposed to be written for busy men and women in the city, but I failed to convince myself that I could pull it off. Another was a novel about a monastery where when one enters, one cannot leave (creepy, isn't it?). Another was about a man who taught a street child how to read and write, and which eventually led to building a foundation for street children (it's my dream!). Well, I guess all books are like Voltes V, having a head, trunk, and limbs controlled by five different humans with different stories.

So yeah, be patient. Let the desire nest in your heart then live more. Practice more. Stew ideas more! In Ecclesiastes, it was said that there is an appointed time for everything - and it includes your book! But you know what? I believe, it's already there. It's just that...the story isn't ready to be written yet.