- I have done a lot of things in my life and have also worked in many different jobs to make a living and to experience life. This blog is just some of my musings, sometimes funny, sometimes inspirational, sometimes sad, sometimes angry, sometimes simple but all the time, it's just me.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
It was a dark stormy night
But tonight, the air is different. There is an eerie quietness in the air. The air is still and humid.
And then all of a sudden, a bright light across the sky lits it up for a split second. Was it an explosion, a UFO? Are aliens invading the Earth?
Then another bright light. And a few seconds later a loud bang kaboom like an explosion in a distance.
Another bright light and another explosion and then loud pellets on the roof of the house.
It just another tropical storm. Lightning litting up the skies in split second intervals, the thunder booming across the valley of mud that I live in and the huge tropical raindrops hitting on the roof sounding like air strike machine guns from Japanese bombers. Not that I have even experienced that but I have seen movies like 'Tora!Tora!Tora!' to know enough.
When I was young, I was extremely scared of the huge thunderstorms that we would have. The wreckage that you see in the aftermath of a storm was devastating. Old trees uprooted, branches all over the road, cars damaged.
When I lived in Miri by the beach, facing the South China Sea, barely a few hundred kilometers away from Philippines, the storms would come in from the sea, fast and with such a ferocity that would make Mirians cower in their houses.
Al E and I would stand by the balcony, defiant against the Greek God's of Thunder, Lightning and storm and think out, 'Bring it on boys!'.
The lightning litting up the ocean, huge waves crashing against the beach and the loud ferocious sound of the thunder was no match for the fearless dog and his master.
The beauty is all that the saw and heard. And the aftermath of the storm was a beautiful orchestra of frogs and toads that melodiously sang their tune into the dampness of the night.
While people everywhere are seeking happiness, the protagonist today is wondering, "Are all people seeking happiness in this lifetime? Or are some seeking to lead a sorrowful life? Maybe some are seeking for happiness in the afterlife? But how is that guaranteed?"
I think of every human being as his brothers and sisters.
And wonders why do some brothers and sisters commit suicide bombings or terrorists acts for the happiness of having 99 virgins in their afterlife. Of getting a river filled with milk. And a garden filled with most exotic flowers and fruits.
If the virgins were true, why would they now want to give it up to a person who just blew himself up to bits?
And would the river of milk not spoil and curdle into stinky sour milk. Furthermore, I do not even like milk.
And what about the fruits - something must be wrong if nobody else is eating them. After all, the law of the jungle is simple. If the monkeys or birds are not eating the fruits, neither should you.
I thinks about what my friend said a while back and brings a smile to my face. My friend wants to sue the government because a piece of his body was removed from him without his consent when he was young. He did not have a choice in it. They just cut it out and now he is mad as hell.
It is a common ritual above, every Muslim boy goes through it and mostly without their consent.
I think of some Hindu and Jain priest who give up every attachment in their lives to live a life of detachment. To be closer to God.
But did not God intend for us to be part of society? Even if we detach from things, aren't we all still attached to this body? May as well commit suicide, that would be real detachment then.
I think of my native brothers and sisters in the American continent. Some of them are now doing a Sun Dance. The ritual varies among different tribes but all involve a flesh offering. The purpose of the Sun Dance is to pray while maintaining a connection to the Tree of Life and sacrifice oneself to the Great Spirit. Young men participating in the ritual are pierced through the chest by a skewer and the skewer is attached to a pole in the center of an arena. This pole represents the Tree of Life. The objective is to break free of the skewer by tearing the skewer through one’s skin.
Why would the Great Spirit want you to suffer and possibly loose your life and still call it Tree of Life? Seems more like the Tree of Death. More like survival of the fittest. This seems to be a good way to weed out the weak ones as they will surely die.
Then I think of my Shi'a Muslim brothers who whip themselves with metal chains and spikes during the Zanjeer Zani ritual of mourning for Hussein. And my Hindu brothers who pierce themselves with skewers and hooks during Thaipusam. Other Hindu brothers who make a pilgrimage without shoes on hot Indian tarmac. I also think of my Christian brothers in Spain and Italy who also whip themselves with various chains and spikes until they are bleeding usually during lent period 40 days before Easter and other Christian brothers in Philippines who literally and physically nail themselves on a cross during the Easter weekend.
I guess some people do want to lead a sorrowful life.
I guess living a life of happiness and love maybe will not give them the redemption they seek.
Maybe there is a different heaven for them.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, energy to energy.
Everything basically goes back to it's common form.
I guess the world is big enough to have many different believes and followers. Some who would build arks and some who would walk down from mountains with tablets with commandments, some who would beat themselves, some who would fast without food or water, some who would even kill for their redemption with whoever God may be.
As for me and my faithful sidekick, I say to the storm, bring it on, bring on the storm, bring on the musical frog orchestra, bring on the pricking hot sunshine.
And for you, "Come in," I say, "We'll give you shelter from the storm."
Take care and be well.
at 12:12 AM