Cause-oriented vs. result-oriented

The Cross atop the Hill of 'Kalbaryo' (Calvary) in Gov. Generoso (Sigaboy), Davao Oriental

Good Friday is out: Easter is in? But, a Good Friday is the CAUSE of a Happy Easter; a Happy Easter is the RESULT of a Good Friday. If the cause is good, then we have a perfect result. If Easter never happened, the sacrifices of Good Friday are futile. As Easter did happen, undergoing a Good Friday is necessary to attain Easter. But, we always think of the "result," trying to achieve it to the point of neglecting its "cause." Be cause-oriented rather than a result-oriented individual to keep always on the right track. Good Friday happens every time the Holy Eucharist is officiated. Easter is perfection. When the Holy Mass is done haphazardly and without faith, love and reverence, can we attain perfection?

The Spider-Man

The other night, the spider spat and spun a web to make a home. The next morning, man destroyed it to sweep clean his dwelling.

Last night, the spider spurted and knitted a web to build a home. This morning, man ravaged it again to sweep clean his dwelling.

Tonight, the same spider has spewed and coiled a web to remake and rebuild a home. Tomorrow morning, will man shatter it again to sweep clean his dwelling?

And the spider, will it redo its thing if thrice its home is ruined?

Whose faith will survive? The one that never gives up. 

The spider knows the truth. So does man.

Diary of St.Faustina introduces me to experience beyond ordinary

I have become interested on "life after death" since my mother died. I wanted to "know" at least what her life "over there" would be like. That is why I bought myself books that deal with the topic of the "life after." One is "My Dream of Heaven;" the other, "Divine Mercy in My Soul," the diary book of St. Faustina. Little did I know that this diary would introduce me to experience things beyond the ordinary. Don the prophet calls it "spiritual experiences;" he wrote me beforehand about it but he never gave details. He only said that, during jubilee time, God would grant me "spiritual experiences." St. Faustina, in her diary, called it "divine delights." Others call it "ecstasies." Or, that which were experienced by saints! I bought the diary book in 2003, two months after Mama's death. Since it is a thick book, I took my time reading it; and I read it only in my leisure time. And I noticed as I went along, some experiences of St. Faustina that she wrote about in the diary, I came to experience also!

Rainbow-winged

"What you are is God's gift to you..."
Before one enters a portal new to him, he finds himself at a loss, afraid, and apprehensive as to what is in store for him beyond that door. 
One thing is certain, however. By the time he decides to tread the path leading to that portal, what he has just made is the greatest decision he ever thought of -- the acceptance of self... the first step in achieving great goals.
Sure enough, if he did not take that first step, accepting himself as he really is, he would be an ugly green caterpillar, crawling on the branches of endless uncertainties.
But the caterpillar soon learns the golden message that the stepping stone to achieve great things lies in the threshold of accepting its real self.
That threshold alone spells nothing but courage.
And that same courage is put to real test -- the caterpillar has to lock itself behind the bars of cocoon for a long time... a dark, warm, painful, lonely battle to reach the unreachable.
We, humans, share the same experience... the same struggle. Now, they are brave people in our midst who accept themselves as they are.
And are determined enough to move on from there.
For a long while, the cocooned caterpillar has to end what it has started. And taste the ripe fruits of its toils.
Yes, if there is a beginning, there is an end. But for those who understand its real meaning, the struggle has not died yet.
It only opens a new chapter in life.
As it came out slowly from the cocoon's door, the different creature was greeted with the stillness of the darkness -- the same darkness when it entered that same world.
But the caterpillar -- now, a rainbow-winged butterfly! -- knows, for sure, that the night is different from the night it was once before.
A new horizon is taking shape in the distance.
One wondered, before, what lies beyond that horizon. But the butterfly is certain that ahead of those far-fetched mountains is a new day that is about to unfold before the eyes of the world.
There is a new hope, new life that promises a new beginning.
Now, the butterfly has to flap its wings and see and do new role, new responsibilities that await him.
For us, humans, whose struggle in life is patterned after the cocooned caterpillar's, what we have achieved of late is only a beginning of another higher level of achievement.
Ours is a lifetime quest.
As the sunflowers await the butterflies, the world awaits these promising men and women.
This is where the truth from the saying comes back to heart.
"... what you become is your gift to God!"

Silence: a deeper level of trust

God, at times, puts a soul into the most adverse situation (the gravest of the desert soul experience being Divine-Friendship-turned-Adversity) to extract from the soul a deeper level of trust in God. In such a situation, a soul is silent, trusting, submissive to the Divine Will without resorting to self-defense but allowing God-now-turned-Enemy to wreck the soul as He wishes. God, however, is true to what He is about so that Divine Defense takes place at the time He knows right and rescues the soul from further wreckage while polishing the genuineness of the soul's calling. It is painful experience to the soul but likewise joy knowing something good is going to come out from all of this -- either to continue with the soul's Divine calling or stop it once and for all, thus relieving itself from the big responsibilities that the calling entails.

A Thinker with a Heart

I dreamed of this statue of the Lord Jesus of the Sacred Heart -- only He was alive as a normal human being without a Heart exposed on His Chest. He was clad in a vivid gray garment and in a deep-red cloak. It was a fleeting dream of a quarter of a minute or less. It was night. I was in front of Him looking but He seemed not to see or mind me at all. I see Him as a thinker as He sat, stood, walked to and fro and sat again in the lighted hallway back of the Church of the Sacred Heart. And, then, the dream disappeared.

"The capacity to THINK is what makes humans distinct from the rest of creation." -Aristotle, a Greek philosopher

Jesus Christ is the greatest Thinker and Philosopher of all time because He thinks with a Heart. Wisdom revolves only in Love.

The confessional: tribunal of mercy

A good counselor is not measured if one is a good adviser, but a good listener. Attentive, silent listening encourages the troubled to unload. Unloading empties the excesses of the heart. When the heart is emptied, illumination comes in. A solution to the problem! Wisdom from above! Eureka! God speaks to the heart of a person! That is the essence of confession. A counselor needs not give advice, but facilitates the troubled to have a good confession so that God Himself can speak to man's own heart. But when a confessor does give advice, it is not one that reprimands: for, the confessional is a 'Tribunal of Mercy.' God is Mercy: so must the priest-confessor, God's own representative on earth, show mercy. Reprimanding discourages further and later confessions. Confessing sins committed is not an easy thing to do. Confessing itself is a sign of repentance -- even if confessed sins are habitual. Will a man be denied the sacrament of confession just because of habitual sins? Is his lot a condemnation? Bad habits are signs of being under an ancestral bondage and curses which can only be broken off by the highest form of prayer, the Holy Eucharist! All the more that the person prone to habitual sins, needs mercy: attention, prayers and frequent confessions of temptations to avoid committing the same sins. When people are discouraged to confess again and they receive the Body of Christ in the Holy Eucharist with unclean hearts, men of God in the confessionals are answerable to God. One more thing: does face-to-face confession encourage a good, honest confession? Certainly not, because most withhold the shameful, secret sins of the heart. Go back to the confessionals with windows covered with linen or something that prevents the confessor from knowing the identity of one who confesses. The confessor must not even look at the window. Trying to know who confesses is already committing gossip in his heart as well as comparing confessed sins with fellow confessors, directly or indirectly. Jesus Christ is One Who hears confessions using the ears of priests; thus, what is heard inside the confessional must only be between the Lord and one who confesses.

The wind in the wilderness

Wisdom is not gained by age. Wisdom comes from God Who whispers it to the heart of a person: young, middle-aged or old. Everyone can hear it -- if and when one chooses to live a simplified life. A life of simplicity is an invitation to live in the spiritual wilderness. The wilderness experience leads one to his own heart 'where God speaks.' Life in excess shuts up our spiritual ears from hearing it. 

Self-respect

When we think others are 'devoid of respect' towards us, we, sometimes, demand respect from them. But why do we think we are disrespected? Why do we know? What are our basis? Why do we think? We think because we are doing what we are thinking. We point our index fingers at others; but three fingers are pointing at us. Let us see within ourselves first. Maybe, it is we who are devoid of respect towards our own selves!

Silence is wisdom

Interpreting a poem varies and depends on or is based according to the consciousness -- or, life experiences -- of the readers. But, mostly, not according to the very experiences of the poet as he wrote the poem! If a reader had the same experience as the poet, he would agree and understand the outpourings of the heart of the poet. If a reader disagreed, it might be because he had the same experience but not at the same level of experience as the poet. He may have an experience of allowing himself be bitten by an ant when the poet is being bitten by a swarm of ants which is not a one-time experience but an experience on a regular basis. Same experience but of different levels of experience. When a reader who knows nothing of the experience as the poet's and is silent as to make a comment, silence is wisdom.

Humility in the eyes of a lily

Humility, in the perspective of an erring humanity, is not the absence of pride, arrogance or conceit but the acceptance of having these in one's self that makes one humble. When one says he is humble, do you think he is humble? No, because he is, actually, proud of being humble (spiritual pride); but when one says he is proud, arrogant or conceited, he is humble enough to accept that which is truth within himself. Here begins the road to perfection. For: to be perfect, one needs to recognize, first and foremost, the fact that he needs to be perfected. This is humility; and it draws God to the humble. For, only God can bring to perfection every imperfect human being. Human attempt to perfect his own self only tempts himself to justify or hide his mistakes. Justifying a mistake or hiding it, makes a man think of it often, thus guilt-ridden. It is hard to forget a mistake when, in the first place, it is not forgiven. God, being a Merciful God, is always forgiving; but it is man that cannot forgive himself so that Divine Forgiveness cannot take effect upon his person. Not to forgive is not to forget! And to forgive is to accept. To accept is to confess. To confess is to expose. Expose yourself before God exposes us; but when exposed, be humble enough not to justify so it won't magnify.

In the heart of a lily

Once there was a lily that opened its bud for the first time under the heat of a noon-day sun. It happened in an inland pond, a lake in the heart of a city. As soon as it opened its petals, the lily-blossom saw a grove of old trees standing mid of the lake. "There's something on the trees!" -- said the lily. It felt something, Someone, the Presence of the One that created the lily: His Feet resting on top of the trees. It saw the peak of an Ancestor Mountain rising in the west, the hills looking down on the lily. It peeped through the hills and saw the plains where stood buildings, houses, and structures -- and where lived most people: the east. Farther off, it saw the gulf and the island city. "What is this place, an Eden?" asked the lily of the place of its beginning. It looked up again to the great mountain, partly hidden by its jealous and possessive Mountain Wife. "Both are meant for each other. Who can separate the two? They stand together forever!" said the lily sympathetically. (But, unless one has the faith to move and plant the wife mountain into the gulf!) It, then, panned its eyes to the right and saw the mountain sons and daughters of the Great Mountain and its wife: the mountain ranges of the city standing left of them -- and hugging. It had the chance to go up the mountains and saw the city as a great theater looking down the arena in the east. It had the chance to go down the plains and saw the city as a great cathedral: the peak, the altar. Or a wide concert arena: the peak, the stage. It had the chance to climb up the hills and saw the city as a huge cinema: the hills, the balcony -- the mountains or the plains, the big screen. The lily, in the course of its tour, noticed the feeling of a fair-weathered climate condition of the city (and typhoon-free, at that!) so unique in the whole country. But the city of its beginning has gradually lost its innocence. By its beauty and fame, it has become proud (so proud as not to accept the truth it has become proud!); and by its beauty, fame and pride will it find its own destruction. "There's still hope!" said the lily. "Humility is our last hope. But humility is beyond humility in words. Humility is, initially, recognition of the Real Presence of JESUS CHRIST in the Holy Eucharist as shown through our reverence, worship and love: first, by the priests; for, parishioners are a reflection of their own parish priests!"

A dream of gray and white

I dreamed again in August of 2011. Was the dream a closer look to the previous dream I had of an airplane explosion? The effect of the explosion was like a boulder -- of the immensity I cannot describe! -- that fell from the sky; and great was the impact so that the city was in a mess! The scenario was like in the aftermath of a war! Local economy was paralyzed. All I saw was misery. It was in gray and white -- the vision of the dream. And I woke up so desolate and exhausted from the feeling of a bleak experience.

The photo and the dream

I took this picture early January 2011, a year after I dreamed of an airplane explosion. When I saw the plane preparing to land in the north of the city, I remembered the dream; I immediately took my camera. I was following the aircraft with my camera to get a nice view of the shot when I was aghast to see it came to pass on top of the mosque: I immediately clicked the button. The photo and the dream: any correlation?

Airplane explosion

I was out in an open expanse and standing in the city of my birth. 

Facing north of the city, I saw an airplane bigger than an airbus preparing to land in the northeast. 

I was miles away from the airport, so distant as not to see it; but I knew the airport was in the northeast. 

Everything was normal except the size of the aircraft. 

It is bigger than I normally see. 

It looked like an inflated balloon in the shape of an airplane. 

But I saw it was a real airplane. 

Everything was fine -- BUT! -- the moment it touched down the runway, it exploded incomparably great that the ground I was standing on trembled. 

I saw the trees and structures in the skyline trembling. 

It was like the whole city trembled!

The island city

I found myself on the edge of a big city, sitting where the waves and the sands met. 

Beyond the great waters of blue was an island of green. My eyes were fixed on the island, but it seemed I was not looking at the island. Around me were eyes of other races fixed on me, but it seemed they were not looking at me. 

Then, behind me, a block of white texts came scrolling up from below. 

I read as it went up. 

I panted and I sighed as I grasped the essence of every line of the piece that I read. It felt like the warmth of the Hand of Love, holding the very core of my being. 

And, all of a sudden, I was caught up in the high heavens. 

As the wind carried me to the heights, I saw the island below and an isle beside it becoming stones midst of sea. 

Then, as if stones thrown into the sea, the islands submerged -- the bigger island first, followed by the isle beside it. 

And the sea rippled mightily towards the big city and other areas surrounding the two islands that were lost. 

A word and another flashed on the scene one after the other. "Island," it read -- and then, "city."

Religious experiences of my soul in the Holy Eucharist

"Jesus loves hidden souls. 

A hidden flower is the most fragrant." 

-Saint Faustina (Diary, 275) 

Allow me to obscure myself in this blog to follow the example of the Blessed Virgin Mary shown through a dream.

Yes, Heaven lets me see things through dreams and visions.

I have, in fact, received prophetic dreams -- for the city of my birth; the diocese where this city belongs; the country where the diocese is a part of; and the world. 

One is that dream I had of the Blessed Virgin Mary giving me Holy Communion on the tongue on September 8 in mid-nineties.

And ten years after the dream, a religious experience happened to me during Holy Communion on the vigil mass of the birthday of the Blessed Virgin Mary in 2006.

This experience was being witnessed by some present in that mass -- especially, the lay Eucharistic minister from whom I received Communion and fellow communicants.

That was my first of a series of Eucharistic ecstasies that I had experienced.

I cannot talk to anyone about those experiences simply because, by a dream, I saw myself blogging my "spiritual experiences" for everyone to read.

After the miracle experience, it has been natural for me to show reverence to the succeeding Holy Masses that I have attended.

For the experience has taught me the reality of the True Presence of the Lord Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist.

But I never knew the proper way of Eucharistic reverence as God wants it to be done.

So, I did it my own way.

In my research on the web, I came to know about "These Last Days Ministries" or the Bayside Apparitions at http://www.tldm.org.

From there, I happened to know that two of the visions I received were also received way before by the seer of the Bayside, Veronica Lueken.

Because of this, I came to a realization that she and I are of the same mission.

Or, the mission entrusted to me is an offshoot to the mission that Heaven entrusted to the Bayside seer. Other offshoots are at work in different parts of the world.

As dictated by Heaven, "These Last Days Ministries" is an advocate to the re-institution of Traditional Latin Mass to the Roman Catholic Church.

Thus, I began to try to behave in all my Eucharistic attendance as one should behave in the celebration of the Traditional Latin Mass: namely, kneeling while receiving Communion on the tongue from the hand of a duly-ordained Catholic priest.

Apology

Please, God, forgive me for complaining, whining and talking deliriously before You. You know what You are. You are Good. Everything adversarial and negative You allow in my life is for my own advantage which leads me later to a "spiritual awakening" -- the "flowering of a cactus" -- the "turning of a desert into garden" -- "beauty for ashes." I talked aimlessly, without knowledge, and ruled only by my emotional self. You know what You are doing. I resume living this life with trust in Your Goodness and Mercy.

Desert Four: Trust amidst desert

'No man is an island' -- but I am an island: am I no man? 

Not only an island -- but an island of desert: am I cursed? 

Or: has Heaven a Hand on this experience? 

Ah, a flicker of understanding now I see: It is You, O God, Who author this experience of my soul! 

But my mind is yet clouded as to grasp the Divine Reason behind all this. 

In time, I know, will I fully understand. 

I trust 

.

Desert Three: Sighs in the desert

God, You are an all-knowing God. You know that I am already so tired of waiting, so exhausted of giving. Until when are You going to keep me in wait, to stop the test? Yet, You have promised, Lord; You have promised; fulfill Your promises now -- please? But who can question Your Wisdom? Who can say You're wrong? But I am human. I am already extracted. No more tears left. I am as dry as a desert. No one else is here. I am all alone. It seems hard to get up. I thirst. And the air I breathe is heat. Yet my lungs cannot help but accept it. Sighs! -- sighs! -- sighs! -- are all I hear. I want to leave -- I need to. Where should I go? -- but, You alone are God.

Desert Two: I, becoming a desert isle

No, I cannot be who I am not. I stand by what I already said. Let me say it again -- now, with tears! -- I NEED A FRIEND. Find a friend in God? But I am not divine: only the soul is. Yet, part of me is body. I am a soul within a human body. Love Divine must be personified. That Love is personified in Jesus, you say. And I agree. But why is He hiding Himself from me? Treating me an enemy? Promising me without end? And promises are still promises to this day -- I am not seeing the fulfillment. God, I am lonely -- without friends, without You! I am an isle in the midst of an ocean of its deepest blue. The loneliness in the human me is worsened by the loneliness I have in my soul. An isle of desert, I am becoming! Does anyone see how lonely I have been? Can anyone understand? Words cannot comfort me -- but letting me speak out the depth of the loneliness of my entirety: body and soul!

Mother of the Eucharist

Behold, a Vision visited me again: a Blessed Mother giving me Holy Communion on the tongue! And, lo, all the scenery was in white and green; in the middle of a forest, the Mother and myself were standing;  it seemed to me a forest in the middle of the city I was born. She was young and slim; and Her Face was white and serene. Her veil and clothes were of ashen-green; and it looked to me as worn by a nun in hiding. Trees surrounded the two of us; and by Her left stood an old, huge tree whose trunk and branches were covered with moss. So, too, the slope that was almost like a plain She and I were standing on. And the leaves of the trees were dripping with rain. A step higher, She stood facing uphill; I stood facing downhill. And, lo, She was holding a White Host above a Chalice to Her Breast -- in front of me.  She  was tight-lipped and placed the Host on my tongue! And I woke up. Behold, that day was the day of eight of the ninth month -- Her birthday.

Desert One: A complaining Job

Please, God, I beg You to treat me not as though dead. A corpse that cannot react to any stimulus. Though limited is my knowledge, I know I have had enough. "You have suffered long enough," You said, not once but thrice or more. And yet, I'm still suffering. Please do give me a lift -- if burdened is what You see in me. I am under a curse; in fact, piles of curses have afflicted me because of my ancestral sins. To the best I could, I have done whatever You say would release me from bondage. But I am still in bondage. Is this how great the curse is being handed down to me by my ancestors? I should have been freed by now, even from a curse or two! Or, is it You Who choose not to give me this freedom? Am I Your toy? Yes, You can do with me as You please. But -- please, God -- I ain't saintly as Therese of the Child was. She who gave herself entirely to You as Toy. I, too, am Your toy -- but a complaining toy as Job.

Trees, people and SSPX

Trees are people; people are trees. Whatever we do to the trees, we do to the people. Take care of trees, we take care of people. Kill the trees, and we kill the people. Were not recent flash floods in southern Philippines by tropical storm "Sendong" (international name "Washi") killing more than a thousand people effects of denuded forests in its mountains? Go back to nature. Go back to the basics of life. Go back to the basic principles of faith. Yes, we, in this part of the region, are now on the way back to the Holy Catholic Traditional Tridentine Latin Mass; but time is of the essence. Cataclysms may overtake and catch us off-guard by further delays. The "home trees" of the only "firefly in the city," the Society of St. Pius X, a religious community that celebrates the Latin Mass "of our ancestors" as a way of life, are being worked out to be padlocked. Pope Benedict XVI is offering reconciliation with this group. Why can't we? SSPX is of great help to our diocese. Fireflies abound where trees are found; and trees are people who desire return to the simplicity of  life of faith.

Firefly foresees destruction of home trees

Fireflies live in farmlands, marshes and the woods where trees abound. They are tree-dwelling creatures so that the sight of a tree with fireflies at night looks like a natural Christmas tree! They are never city occupants as cities cut down trees in favor of development. And when you do see one in the city, it means the city you live in is still tree-friendly. But, a personal firefly experience in the vicinity of a local state university was a prelude to the coming destruction of trees in the area where the biggest-so-far local sports and cultural arena would arise. And, even before the destruction happened, the firefly already had a foreboding of what was to come so that it came out in the open and hovered over the nearby road that night looking for somebody to help save the trees.

A firefly in the city

A woods-indwelling in city wand'ring, a dew fallen on dry earth! I was in the internet cafe one midnight blogging; I was on my way home one o'clock w-a-l-k-i-n-g. And, as I turned left to a lonely road lined with trees on the side, suddenly, out of nowhere, a solitary, black, round, flying torch-bearer came down upon me. It was looking for a spot in me where to step on. I raised my left hand slowly, open, offering. It landed on the tip of my mid-finger. Wings fluttering. Itself strutting, jumping. And lamp twinkling, touching my skin. Like it was happy to see me, to meet me, to feel me -- again (!). I was happy -- no, it was a joy! -- to meet a firefly in the city. It was an experience of the spirit. Of the soul. Of an angel. Godly. It flew away then and I w-a-l-k-e-d on, and I looked back. Where'll the firefly go? Will it go back to the woods of my memory?

The rosary of wood

In the silence of the night, a Woman appeared. Through a pore on the roof, She entered. As if being beamed out from above. Without the brightness of Her glory, She came simply. Almost the whiteness of Her garment, Her deep blue cloak hid. Never She spoke, but a message She had. Never Her face was lit that I saw, but on the things Her hands were holding I was all eyes -- rosaries of two! On Her right palm was laid a rosary of wood: on the other, a rosary of gold. In a manner so gently, with hands open, She presented both to me; and, slowly, put forward Her right hand with the wooden rosary. Then, through which She came in, She left. Of the two, She was gesturing to choose the rosary of wood. Of simplicity in life despite Wealth. Of obscurity despite Fame. For not for our own whim but for His Own Will that wealth and fame be spent.

Good works vs. groundwork?

A skyscraper is built on a solid foundation as a 'house built on rock.' Without it, the construction of the shaft of a building is impossible. Good works, in the same way, are the result of a good foundation of the Church -- the Eucharist! Why, then, do we jump into good works right away when the very foundation of the Church is neglected? 'No one is good but God alone.' We are not God, and no good work-ers, thus! If goodness were still left in us after the Fall -- or so we are often taught -- that could have initiated human reconciliation with the Divine. Instead, it took the oblation of the Body and Blood of the Son of Goodness to effect Divine reconciliation with man! Recognize, first, the visitation of God in the Eucharist, His Real Presence on earth, with LIVING FAITH to enable God to work within us, or do good works through us. In so doing, we never fall trap of spiritual pride and self-righteousness because of credit-grabbing for good works. The pharisee in a parable, incidentally, boasted of 'good works,' thus the ability to do good while the publican recognized the necessity of God in his life by acceptance of his wrongs and of his capability to err. Both, in the end, were justified -- the publican, by God; the pharisee, by his own self.

The perfect and the imperfect

I am an imperfection. Perfection is a need and a want in my imperfect soul. I, who am imperfect, cannot perfect my own self.

He Who is Perfect knows it. So much so He came into the world, for only He can perfect that which is imperfect.

And I welcome and accept His Coming into my life. And I go to where He is often: to admit and confess my imperfection. And touch Him with my tongue and swallow Him into my system.

Perfection is not an overnight thing. Living faith and constant communion with the Presence of One Who is Perfect will eventually lead Him to perfect me.

He Who is Perfect knows I would fall along the way. So that He has a "confessing" well built for me. He loves it there where I confess my misery, my imperfection. For, He is drawn closer to my need, my want. 

He Who Is Perfect is the fullness of my imperfection.

The Pagoda Bell Tower

Living a life of simplicity even in the life of faith spares Nature from destruction; and when Nature is being compromised, such is the gauge if life were lived in excess. Construction of the new bell tower was, indeed, unnecessary since one already existed at the foot of the Big Cross atop a Noah's Ark-inspired cathedral. But, the construction was pushed through and at the expense of a century-old acacia tree! Without the belfry, salvation can still be attained if and when that which is CENTRAL to our FAITH is prioritized and celebrated the proper way. Damage is already done, all right; and the only way to clean up this mess is self-forgiveness and preoccupation to proper celebration of the 'breaking of bread' instead of being busy with unnecessary things to faith. But, the ill effects of natural desecration linger so that, whether we like it or not, we are living with the consequence.

Mother Nature: God or saint?

How do humans treat Mother Nature: God or saint? Nature was divinely created first before humans were created. Man has a need and Nature will replenish this need, thus Nature was first created. God first created the provision so that when mankind exists, the needs of mankind are provided ahead of time. The job of Nature, then, is to serve humankind; and Nature is a good servant. Since Nature is a good servant, Nature deserves to be treated well by its human managers. Otherwise, God, the Creator, will vindicate for Nature since Nature is created as a good servant. Do masters serve servants? Servants serve masters! If mankind were to worship Nature, mankind violates the natural purpose and arrangement of the Divine Creation; and if mankind desecrates Nature, it likewise lowers their dignity as human beings. See, the floods, the effect of natural disrespect and humans dying as a result? Nature is a good servant like a mother that cares; it is also like a saint whose nature, ideals and wisdom benefit humankind. Natural disrespect lowers the dignity of humans so does if humans were to make Nature a God.

Self-acceptance frees self

Be true to yourself. If you are still critical and tend to be judgmental towards a particular person, accept that. Understand yourself. No one is perfect. Remember, all have fallen short of Heaven's glory. Acceptance of this truth will eventually unleash us from the bondage of hypocrisy. Such is the only way. Embrace the beauty of self-acceptance and being true to self. Humility is acceptance of what is true in your person. Humility draws the Divine to your frail yet accepted self. Free yourself. Accept self.

A canticle of the heart

In the beginning, I was nothing; in my nothingness, I came to be. I exist. But not by my own making do I exist. For, how can nothing produce something? 

Love hath created me. Hath God never been Love, I would never ever exist. But God is Love and I do exist. 

And this God-Love has taken notice of me, a forgotten nothingness that I used to be and an imperfection that I have been. Holy is His Name!

Ah, even before my existence began, I already existed. I existed in the Heart and Mind of God. For, He loved and thought well of me even before He created me, Alleluia!

And, then, I came into being. I live. Not for me do I live, but for Him Who does love me. 

I am nothing without Love. Love will perfect me.  

Forever will I sing praises to Love's Mercy; forever will I thank Mercy for His Love for me.

Self-love is self-less love

Self-love is, unbelievably, a self-less act; for, it leads one to likewise love other persons! The intensity of love you give to your own self -- the ultimate being unconditional love! -- is the measuring cup you can love other selves. Accept yourself to the fullest, even your capability to err; only then will you be able to accept the same erring capabilities of other people. As you self-forgive so do you forgive others' faults. If you are still critical and judgmental, forgive yourself unconditionally and you will cease to be. Love, then, reigns.