I want my Pigs, Not Jesus

Mark 5:15-17
“When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.”

Sometimes we don’t want Jesus to do his thing. When Jesus does his thing, sometimes it creates tension. The people wanted things to be as they were: the mad man, still crazy and their pigs, safe.

“We don’t want you Jesus. We want things like how they were. We want our pigs. And for that crazy guy- we would have preferred him crazy still. We’d put up with his drama, so that we can still have our pigs.

Either you want to settle with pigs or let Jesus do his thing.

Be honest, but not too honest.

I used to think personal narratives, stories born out of your own journey, or testimonies if you will, were free to be shared because they were mine and I’m ready to do so.

But, some have made it known that it is not wise, or because i’m ill informed about my own stories, or because others feel offended (which I don’t know why.). Just be vague, be indirect, beat around the bush, so the story is a safe one.

My own intention is to give encouragement so people who walk a similar path can also see that they are not in it alone because there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe I sound like I want people to know i’m a hero. Or maybe i share out of pride. Or maybe when i say (for example), i did not eat today the implication is because you who are listening did not feed me. Or maybe i’m just an immature 40 year old who can’t make head or tails about what is share and not.


I hear others sharing their journey. They are ok. They applaud. They rave.

Maybe it’s because others are more financially stable. Or because they have good jobs and a good career built as a foundation of their story. I assume this is the case.

I’m someone who values raw and real life stories. Because I want to know what you struggle with, not the victories and successes. I want to know your failures, not how you aced the test. The bruises, wounds, rage, emotions; the things that make me know you’re human. And how through your humanness, you survived and managed to climb upward. I want to hear real stories, not fairytales. Leave that to story books and movies and Netflix.

I don’t actually speak or write a lot about my journeys. Maybe because of that, when I do mention and make know, people assume all I talk about is myself.

I have stories of my journey I want to share, but I can’t because my testimonies are cringeworthy (to some people).

Be honest, they say, but not too honest.

Logic of the maze

A systematic gathering
Of reasonings
Thoughts and ideas
A listening of perspectives
Of others and self
As myriad of words
Woven together
To make intelligible sentences
Breath meaning
Prior to an initiation of doubt
A deconstruction
And then a reconstruction
A theoretical hope
Of breathing in certainty.
But the logic of poetry
Is the maze.


“Forgetting” is not something we can do. The more we try to forget, by doing something, we end up remembering what we try to forget. But if we let what we try to forget fade slowly as it keeps on reminding us, like it always does, in time it wont hurt that much. Some will disappear (probably). Some will still remain but not hurt that much.

+(ve) = -(ve)

Sometimes, well on a daily basis, I’d log onto Facebook and read of the status of friends and quotable links on the public wall. Now we might assume that we can categorize people in two different categories. Well this is a general one i’m presenting here. The two categories would be those who are overtly depressive and those who are positive.

There is a truth in that. But the way I observe it, we’re all people who hurt. Based on the positive inspirational quotes we post to somehow boost our day or perspective, i’d say we’re all just hurting. I mean, you won’t be all pent up trying to be positive if you were somehow fighting not to be negative.

I’m not saying that it’s somewhat bad to be positive, i’m just saying that don’t be positive people who look down on people who do express their pain. Don’t look at them as weak. Like I said earlier, even in our positive stance we are in fact fighting some negativism inside.

We’re all hurting people. Yes, even the positive ones as well.

Reflections on Writing

A writer has at his disposal, like a painter who has a blank canvas and beside him, his collection of many colors, moving pictures of what he sees while sitting and with eyes roving, this becomes his “assortment of colors” as he gathers them in his mind, ruminating into something worth painting.

He borrows from reality and weaves another story. Stories that depict something, a way to convey his own feelings and emotions. People around become his silent actors and actresses where he hinges on them his feelings and emotions. He creates a dual landscape of meanings from one portrayal of reality. One he sees and one in which he writes as his own.

He weaves the ordinary to look meaningful, majestic, or interesting. But all under his own dictation, to see another space of reality; one laden in the realm of the unseen and only able to be conveyed in words and sentences, his feelings and emotions.

Regret and “the Route not Taken.”

What if everything had gone rightly if I had taken another route or for that matter, decisions? Would all the complexities now be disintegrated in thin air and disappear? Would everything sail smoothly? Are the storms happening now the result of not taking the route proposed as the “if” factor?

These are just reflections whenever I think about the present and a space in time where I could have chosen a different route rather than the one I am in now. Sometimes we all come to a point where we reminiscent about this “space in time where one could have chosen a different route.” While we infuse that route not taken with possibilities, it is logical that we defuse any form of optimism in the present road we are living in.

But why do we do that?

Why is it tolerable to believe in being optimistic about “what if”? And not the present?

It’s probably because we decide to create a landscape that is free from probabilities or mishaps, as if that “route not taken,” would have been the perfect place where negativity ceases to exist and only good things come and follow.

But that is to create an imaginary world where fiction becomes a perverted dimension of an over-realized realm where reality becomes an idea that the mind takes control of. In other words, we become gods of that realm I called “the route not taken” whenever we think of “if only we took a different route, this will not happen and everything would have been OK.”

And because of this, we wallow in regret about the present reality we live in. We become slaves to the imaginary heaven we though existed in the “route not taken.”

That imaginary dimension, if we laden it with the colors of reality, we would open it up to a realistic outlook. Sure, the present might be flawed and whatever that is bad, had happened, by one taking the present route. But that does not mean the imaginary dimension which we base our regrets on has no form of probabilities of the negative. If we play by realistic expectations, it is possible that even if one had taken the other route, both the possibility of the positive and negative still exists, anything can happen. For we cannot control the landscape of reality. Although we have the power of making decisions, whatever it is, we have to be open to both the possibility of bad and good. Shit happens, shit also does not happen.

So, whether we mope and regret of why we chose this road and not that, the important thing to note is that, we can only imagine a dim light of how reality looks the the space of “the road not taken.” Because  that is all we can conjure from it. The important thing for us to focus on is the present, thinking about the possibilities of how we are to live and survive in the present, the now.

We should gather most of our imaginations and refocus it on the now, because we cannot salvage anything from the past, the things that time has erased to be lived in physical existence, but we still can salvage some form of the present and the future.



Meaninglessness happens when the one thing that one has put his or her affections on has ceased to be. And that reality of affections ceasing to be something attainable becomes desire. And that desire is the reality that our affections will never become something possible and thus erodes perspective. When perspective has ceased meaning it becomes nothing and when nothing becomes the definite reality of the present it births meaninglessness.

And meaninglessness soon becomes the perspective that now lives and breathes on the landscapes of possibility but possibility is never seen as a reality because perspective has been widened. The feeling of meaninglessness is when one sees everything but the difference is the person ceases to feel.


“Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than the stories and the people we’re quoting.” John Green (H/T: pageflirt)

I try so hard to be objective in my own thoughts when I read something and strand them into an essay or a post to give an overview of a certain argument with the intention that when I finally reach the conclusion, where  I think it’s only at the last stance of my overall comprehension of the overview, and only then state my case, I probably read myself more into what I thought as an overview of a subject in the words of people I quoted telling you what they thought about this and that and how they view things, I guess in that it’s just the scholarly way of telling people…the overview is actually the larger details of what is encapsulated in my conclusions.

And observing what I wrote above, I used the full-stop only once and apart from interpreting the quotation which I found fascinating, I never heard of John Green or know what’s he is all about (who is he anyway?). It simply tells the fact that I love the quote cause it tells me more about me rather than the wisdom of John Green.