Skip to main content

Openness

I think I've said it before here, that my whole OCCI Seminar Trilogy experience has all been about openness and surrender. But I also noticed that this openness also, well, opens me up to other people's energy.

To begin with, more people are drawn to me. And not just the usual slew of con artists ("I need money to go home to Mindanao!" or "My son is dying and I need a gazillion bucks!") or beggars or lost people who somehow always pick me from the crowd (I always thought it was because I looked either harmless or stupid).

A side story on that: when I was a student in UP Diliman, a guy came up to me, chatted me up about Jesus, and sold me a plaster of Paris bust of the Savior for P100. A couple of months later, I was accompanying my brother to his enrollment in UP Los BaƱos and the same guy picked me again!

Ever since I started to really open up, I've had people introducing themselves to me. I've had more people telling me they love me. I've had people jokingly flirting with me--both men and women. It's crazy how a little openness can go. If I had only known it was so easy, I probably wouldn't have been such a wallflower in high school.

The drawback is that I'm also easily drained by negative talk or negative outbursts, so I tend to ignore people when they start to whine. And everyday, I'm easily moved to tears (though I've realized that if I just let it flow, it does feel better).

I should learn to start conserving/protecting my energy now. What color bubble was that again? Pink?

Popular posts from this blog

The work for which all other work is but preparation

I've been thinking, off and on, of something I once read: The purpose of marriage is not happiness but holiness. Never having been a "good" Christian despite my many attempts, I couldn't understand this line of thinking. Having been raised Catholic, I understood "holiness" to have as one of its main ingredients suffering — and why even want to get married if to be successful at it means to suffer? But these words never left me, bobbing up every now and then from the flotsam and jetsam of my brain. Until, one day, it dawned on me what the statement meant for me. On that same day, I also realized that I do want the gift of marriage. In fact, that is my Christmas wish this year.  My view is not a biblical view, but I don't think it strays too far from it. To be holy is to be set apart from others, as God is, in his perfect goodness and righteousness, in his perfect love (yes, this is biblical; yes, I know I said I wasn't looking at it biblically).  The

Visita Iglesia

My mom and I went with my sister, her family, and the in-laws to their Visita Iglesia for the Holy Week. I'd never done this before, but I had such an interesting time, and I think I'd like to do this again next year. We didn't do the Stations of the Cross, though. We just prayed and lit candles. A lot of candles. Here's a list of the churches we visited. Recto The University Belt churches, all of which are within walking distance to each other. The path to all those churches were lined with vendors hawking all sorts of things, from food, like calamares (I'd never seen calamares being sold as street food before! Lucky U-Belt kids!), all-sorts-of-balls-and-the-like (chicken, squid, fish, kikiam , and kwek-kwek ), to bottled water and flavored beverages, to candles and religious paraphernalia. 1. The San Beda Church , which I loved for the gilt of gold on the statues and the ceiling, and because once a Bedan, always a Bedan, though I didn't go to San Beda

Dream: Disaster

Last night's dream. This is a long one. I was in a management class that suddenly became a cooking class. The teacher whipped up this Italian dish with pasta, meat and some mushrooms and vegetables. "Would anyone like to have this?" she asked us. Nobody replied. A bit miffed, she handed it to the student in front of her: me. The dish looked delicious, actually, so I stood up and went around the classroom to get everyone to try it. Some of my classmates feigned interest, and some didn't bother to hide their annoyance, but most got some of the food. The plate was soon empty, even for me, so I went back to my seat. The teacher, who'd been watching me serve her dish, asked, "Why do you have blood on the seat of your pants? Do you have your period?" Surprised, and suddenly anxious, I whispered, "I just finished my, um, girly thing, ma'am, but I'll go check. I might have just sat on something that looks like blood." I saw what looked like blo