On the road to spirituality (*a reflection paper written for a Theology course)
My sister said she does not believe in God.
A couple others around me when asked said they don’t either. For the past years
before I entered graduate school, I have always avoided religion and
spirituality courses, apart from the fact that I really did not need one because
I came from a university where you can believe in almost anything, and whenever
I came close to discussing the existence of God, ate would always throw some kind of fit and rise into hot arguments
about how God does not exist, something I did not particularly like. College
was also not a favorable phase to discuss religion when your school is full of
proud and confrontational atheists, agnostics, pragmatics, tree-hugging
people, LGBTs who said God imperfectly created them, and apathetic others next
to not believing in anything at all. Of course, there were the Christians, but overall, it was just an overwhelming
environment to be discovering your spirituality, provided you are not sure of
it. And I was not, then. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in God. But my belief and
spirituality were not exactly as deep and strong as I would be willing to die,
or at least fight for it.
Yes, I had my own share of doubts and
questions. I had chosen to see first the spirituality of others before
uncovering mine. I am Catholic and had been distantly attending Church for the
last twenty-two years of my life so I felt it was not enough. I wanted to explore more than seeing only
what's already there on my plate.
I joined worships of different Christian religions and learned a little bit
of something. Iglesia ni Cristo has long (yawnful) speeches about exclusive salvation, Born-agains do not
believe in saints while Protestants don’t pray to them, Anglicans have female
priests and some priests fathered children. I've taken a course in Quran I was
told that Islam is the most peaceful religion, ideally. In a number my of
travels, village people would tell me different stories and beliefs on little
yet meaningful things such as why they built such a church or why they bury
their dead the way they do. I visited Buddhist temples, tried to figure
out how to pray in Chinese shrines and even bowed to my feet
in a mosque.
I am satisfied that my list could just go on,
but in all sincerity, I had not exactly figured it out. It was not like Eat, Pray, Love emancipation although it
helped a lot for me to realize that I was barking at the wrong tree. I realized
that maybe spirituality cannot be found in some other place and some other
person’s beliefs, but within you, and
I was right. Quitting my job before hardly entering law school for lack of
money, the agony and burdens of a working law student, apart from my family falling
apart in all places brought me to seek help from the God within me, not the
Gods within somebody else’s. I wanted a relationship with Him and
I was desperately looking for it all over the place. Never did I realize that
He is just there. He was always there - behind the cloud of doubts that covered
my heart and my yearning to intellectually learn about the world overlooked the
divine grace that I was already experiencing.
I have been in law school for two years now
and I can’t deny how much prayer saved me and how greatly God’s grace righted
all my wrong decisions and mistakes in life. Sometimes, I would even consider
my stay in the school a miracle after all I’ve been through. I admit I am still
a neophyte on the road to spiritual discovery but I feel it has been stronger
now than it was before. More than anything, it felt better when your love for
God is not compelling or given to you by some religion, upbringing or some kind
of belief imposed to you by other people, but you have discovered it through
his grace and His spirit during the darkest moments of your life.
My personal relationship with God started off in doubts and a whole lot of reservations and comparisons; until I saw his light in simple yet moving ways I chose not to see. When that time comes that you are next to nothing and you feel that you can’t be helped anymore, there is nowhere to go but down your knees. There is no place to look at but within your heart. There is no distance and indifference to bridge but the distance between you and God, between me and God. I didn’t have to go far.
After a series of true love or so I thought, here I am, self-confessed emotionally unavailable twenty-two year old woman but I do have one secret. I'm waiting, and this time, I'm really waiting for the guy for me. That one guy who would really sweep me off my feet, not that I'm gonna do all the sweeping again, but literally put me on my toes. I've been watching and reading all these guys who are so ideal but not so apparent in real life, but I remain optimistic that I will find him, one day, in a time where I am most unprepared, and this joy that I would feel will feel like fleeting.
I used to imagine that my true love is some mix of the characters in the book that I read. Some guy who'd look good in a suit, or cook me dinner, would listen to me talk about the fictional characters I'm crushing on, one who'd buy me ice cream when I'm depressed, one who will dance crazy with me, or go on a trip to somewhere unknown.
My true love will be as crazy as I am, and he will love the world as much as I do. He loves the sun and my tan lines. He'd kiss my stretch marks and tell me I did not really gain weight. He would be the person whom I can tell my insecurities because I had lots of them, and no one had ever known.
One day, he will be there. And one day, I will write him letters and poems, and maybe even songs. We'd talk about classic books and he'd tell me I look good on just white oversized shirt and an underwear, and he'd tell me that I'm the most beautiful crazy eccentric being he has ever seen.
I am hoping, and waiting for him. My salvation, my happiness, my sun and my sea.
My hands are trembling and I am short of breath. I am once again haunted by this reckless feeling that I could not control. This anxiety bordering to verge of depression coming from this deep hole inside me. Something is not right. I don't know if it's the weather, the surge of emotion, those insurmountable things I've been coping with lately. Equally, my lack of emotion share in the same frustration. They said that getting back to this feeling of love and affection is a choice inevitably tantamount to opening my heart again. But you can't just simply open your heart. You have to steer clear of the danger. These feelings of sympathy or compassion or softness were never healthy. I have to stand my ground and if there is anything that I value more than my composure is my strength to take it all in. I'm a sucker. I suck everything in. I'm like a trash compactor of emotions and unattended pain. On the surface, everything is alright, and every mistake can be fixed, every action can be undone, each wrong thing naturally goes back to its course. The truth that I was not ever prepared to accept was that I was also a living time bomb, just like my estranged sister and my ever hostile self. Everyday, when I think of her, I am reminded of what I am. Of what I've become. I'm not exactly a good person, I was never the better person. She is. I'm too careful and un-trusting. I never trust people and I always feel that there is something more to someone's actions than what they show. In my eyes, everybody has a motive, everybody has a goal. But this is life right? Everybody wants to achieve something. Or is it just my ambitious self clouding my conscience? For all the years of hardship, the failures, foolishness, I've learned my lessons. You can never trust people. You can't even trust your feelings. Sometimes you can only trust your instinct. Because often times, it never goes wrong or it gotta be somewhere within the proximity of the truth. My emotional self hijacking has been pretty much my system lately. I hold on to my composure but at the same time it destroys me from within, and I'm the one who can feel it far worse than it can show. I've known better than to share my feelings to others. People do not really have good judgment, all they have is judgment, judgments can be dangerous things as well. If you let it in you, you lose everything. I don't know. Fuck my brains.
He had no idea. In that one day I walked towards him, I set foot on my next prey.
His smell that reeks innocent goodness aggressively numbing my senses, in a manner I've never felt before.
This ungodly hunger, the thought of thousand things I can do to hurt him. I want, to slowly, passionately rip his skin respectfully tear every part of him, bathe in his blood for my youth and lay him on the fire of my vindication.
Like a psychopath's frenzy The detail of his misery imbued in my mind.
For he was the chosen retribution, Too fine for my own personal salvation.
Under these sheets, you were hovering
tightly around my body.
Burying your head
and smelling the grease in my hair,
lazy arms entwined over my breasts.
All of you pressed against my back
as if I were your muse or lover.
I was more than a stone, good as statue.
These displays weren't all too unfamiliar.
I've traipsed to others' bodies before
Unashamed, unfazed of indignity.
No feelings, for nobody else.
To no one, but my beautiful wretched self
I see myself embraced in lust
or love, I couldn't be sure of. I did not, never cared.
Empty, cold, hollowed with my self-damnation.
Not even for lust
Not even for sin.
I watch your eyes
beg for something,
anything.
But
kissing you,
fucking you,
On the road to spirituality (*a reflection paper written for a Theology course)
My sister said she does not believe in God.
A couple others around me when asked said they don’t either. For the past years
before I entered graduate school, I have always avoided religion and
spirituality courses, apart from the fact that I really did not need one because
I came from a university where you can believe in almost anything, and whenever
I came close to discussing the existence of God, ate would always throw some kind of fit and rise into hot arguments
about how God does not exist, something I did not particularly like. College
was also not a favorable phase to discuss religion when your school is full of
proud and confrontational atheists, agnostics, pragmatics, tree-hugging
people, LGBTs who said God imperfectly created them, and apathetic others next
to not believing in anything at all. Of course, there were the Christians, but overall, it was just an overwhelming
environment to be discovering your spirituality, provided you are not sure of
it. And I was not, then. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in God. But my belief and
spirituality were not exactly as deep and strong as I would be willing to die,
or at least fight for it.
Yes, I had my own share of doubts and
questions. I had chosen to see first the spirituality of others before
uncovering mine. I am Catholic and had been distantly attending Church for the
last twenty-two years of my life so I felt it was not enough. I wanted to explore more than seeing only
what's already there on my plate.
I joined worships of different Christian religions and learned a little bit
of something. Iglesia ni Cristo has long (yawnful) speeches about exclusive salvation, Born-agains do not
believe in saints while Protestants don’t pray to them, Anglicans have female
priests and some priests fathered children. I've taken a course in Quran I was
told that Islam is the most peaceful religion, ideally. In a number my of
travels, village people would tell me different stories and beliefs on little
yet meaningful things such as why they built such a church or why they bury
their dead the way they do. I visited Buddhist temples, tried to figure
out how to pray in Chinese shrines and even bowed to my feet
in a mosque.
I am satisfied that my list could just go on,
but in all sincerity, I had not exactly figured it out. It was not like Eat, Pray, Love emancipation although it
helped a lot for me to realize that I was barking at the wrong tree. I realized
that maybe spirituality cannot be found in some other place and some other
person’s beliefs, but within you, and
I was right. Quitting my job before hardly entering law school for lack of
money, the agony and burdens of a working law student, apart from my family falling
apart in all places brought me to seek help from the God within me, not the
Gods within somebody else’s. I wanted a relationship with Him and
I was desperately looking for it all over the place. Never did I realize that
He is just there. He was always there - behind the cloud of doubts that covered
my heart and my yearning to intellectually learn about the world overlooked the
divine grace that I was already experiencing.
I have been in law school for two years now
and I can’t deny how much prayer saved me and how greatly God’s grace righted
all my wrong decisions and mistakes in life. Sometimes, I would even consider
my stay in the school a miracle after all I’ve been through. I admit I am still
a neophyte on the road to spiritual discovery but I feel it has been stronger
now than it was before. More than anything, it felt better when your love for
God is not compelling or given to you by some religion, upbringing or some kind
of belief imposed to you by other people, but you have discovered it through
his grace and His spirit during the darkest moments of your life.
My personal relationship with God started off in doubts and a whole lot of reservations and comparisons; until I saw his light in simple yet moving ways I chose not to see. When that time comes that you are next to nothing and you feel that you can’t be helped anymore, there is nowhere to go but down your knees. There is no place to look at but within your heart. There is no distance and indifference to bridge but the distance between you and God, between me and God. I didn’t have to go far.
After a series of true love or so I thought, here I am, self-confessed emotionally unavailable twenty-two year old woman but I do have one secret. I'm waiting, and this time, I'm really waiting for the guy for me. That one guy who would really sweep me off my feet, not that I'm gonna do all the sweeping again, but literally put me on my toes. I've been watching and reading all these guys who are so ideal but not so apparent in real life, but I remain optimistic that I will find him, one day, in a time where I am most unprepared, and this joy that I would feel will feel like fleeting.
I used to imagine that my true love is some mix of the characters in the book that I read. Some guy who'd look good in a suit, or cook me dinner, would listen to me talk about the fictional characters I'm crushing on, one who'd buy me ice cream when I'm depressed, one who will dance crazy with me, or go on a trip to somewhere unknown.
My true love will be as crazy as I am, and he will love the world as much as I do. He loves the sun and my tan lines. He'd kiss my stretch marks and tell me I did not really gain weight. He would be the person whom I can tell my insecurities because I had lots of them, and no one had ever known.
One day, he will be there. And one day, I will write him letters and poems, and maybe even songs. We'd talk about classic books and he'd tell me I look good on just white oversized shirt and an underwear, and he'd tell me that I'm the most beautiful crazy eccentric being he has ever seen.
I am hoping, and waiting for him. My salvation, my happiness, my sun and my sea.
my head is a puddle of nonsense
05/29/13 I'm losing it again. I always lose it.
So, I'm visiting you.
Writing is my only salvation. Forgive me.
My hands are trembling and I am short of breath. I am once again haunted by this reckless feeling that I could not control. This anxiety bordering to verge of depression coming from this deep hole inside me. Something is not right. I don't know if it's the weather, the surge of emotion, those insurmountable things I've been coping with lately. Equally, my lack of emotion share in the same frustration. They said that getting back to this feeling of love and affection is a choice inevitably tantamount to opening my heart again. But you can't just simply open your heart. You have to steer clear of the danger. These feelings of sympathy or compassion or softness were never healthy. I have to stand my ground and if there is anything that I value more than my composure is my strength to take it all in. I'm a sucker. I suck everything in. I'm like a trash compactor of emotions and unattended pain. On the surface, everything is alright, and every mistake can be fixed, every action can be undone, each wrong thing naturally goes back to its course. The truth that I was not ever prepared to accept was that I was also a living time bomb, just like my estranged sister and my ever hostile self. Everyday, when I think of her, I am reminded of what I am. Of what I've become. I'm not exactly a good person, I was never the better person. She is. I'm too careful and un-trusting. I never trust people and I always feel that there is something more to someone's actions than what they show. In my eyes, everybody has a motive, everybody has a goal. But this is life right? Everybody wants to achieve something. Or is it just my ambitious self clouding my conscience? For all the years of hardship, the failures, foolishness, I've learned my lessons. You can never trust people. You can't even trust your feelings. Sometimes you can only trust your instinct. Because often times, it never goes wrong or it gotta be somewhere within the proximity of the truth. My emotional self hijacking has been pretty much my system lately. I hold on to my composure but at the same time it destroys me from within, and I'm the one who can feel it far worse than it can show. I've known better than to share my feelings to others. People do not really have good judgment, all they have is judgment, judgments can be dangerous things as well. If you let it in you, you lose everything. I don't know. Fuck my brains.
Borderline
He had no idea. In that one day I walked towards him, I set foot on my next prey.
His smell that reeks innocent goodness aggressively numbing my senses, in a manner I've never felt before.
This ungodly hunger, the thought of thousand things I can do to hurt him. I want, to slowly, passionately rip his skin respectfully tear every part of him, bathe in his blood for my youth and lay him on the fire of my vindication.
Like a psychopath's frenzy The detail of his misery imbued in my mind.
For he was the chosen retribution, Too fine for my own personal salvation.
Under these sheets, you were hovering
tightly around my body.
Burying your head
and smelling the grease in my hair,
lazy arms entwined over my breasts.
All of you pressed against my back
as if I were your muse or lover.
I was more than a stone, good as statue.
These displays weren't all too unfamiliar.
I've traipsed to others' bodies before
Unashamed, unfazed of indignity.
No feelings, for nobody else.
To no one, but my beautiful wretched self
I see myself embraced in lust
or love, I couldn't be sure of. I did not, never cared.
Empty, cold, hollowed with my self-damnation.
Not even for lust
Not even for sin.
I watch your eyes
beg for something,
anything.
But
kissing you,
fucking you,
I'm Gixx. I started this blog two years ago when I tried to go about my insanity through documenting my musings in the night. I am now 21, graduate, again studying in law school, and I am still floating and fleeting from my existence and unconventional personality and way of living.
I maintain at least five websites but this is where I write about anything random. I read a lot of books. I love travel and I'm a sucker for zeal and wisdom.
I like to take risks. And that's where I learn. Then I write.
This blog space is owned, managed and updated by MARIA GICEL T CAMBRI. Unless with prior permission, no portion of the contents may be directly or indirectly copied, published, reproduced, modified, displayed, sold, transmitted, published or redistributed in any medium. I mean it.
Encodegixx@2010
