Against Religious Fundamentalism

I'm leaving this right here. Thanks to my friend Gela for writing this and allowing me to repost it. I think it's about time I acknowledge these issues have greatly influenced the way I lived my life. Why? Because we have to realize any religious sect that teaches intolerance breeds hate, division, and terrorism.

For the record, I realized I no longer live with Catholic guilt.

***

"Because "Spotlight" had a cathartic effect on this lapse Catholic.

 Born and raised Catholics who have left the Church have remorse too for their decision. We didn't just wake up one day and decide to leave a faith we grew up with and guided us during our crucial years. It isn't some sort of rebellion done out of spite. Perhaps it began with spite, but even anger can become tiring. But disappointment? Oh disappointment never leaves you, and living with the disappointment isn't easy. We were taught to do the right thing, be accountable, and confess to our sins. Then we went out into the real world and saw how Church leaders and the most devout could show hate instead of love to a boy who was naturally attracted to another boy, or dismiss a girl for not being “womanly” enough because she acted like a boy. Or how a woman’s value is limited to being a good wife and having children, and then made to feel guilty for choosing a career and independence, despite the latter not violating any actual commandments. Or how showing a little skin made her an occasion of sin, removing all accountability to the pervert who gazed at her because she was "asking" for it and leading him to temptation.

And yet despite encouraging women to bear more children, this Church did not see the consequences of opposing a reproductive health bill, letting thousands of Filipinas suffer in a poorly kept hospital as they suffered the pain of bearing their 6th or 10th child. Did this church ever own up to these faults on humanity? Do you see the disconnect and difficulty of being raised to uphold and do the right thing, and see the very institution that taught you all that, do the opposite?

So no, we are not Satanic, blasphemous or “bad” for leaving the Church. Ask us first why, ask us what guilt is harder to bear: complying to rituals and prayers because they seem like the right thing or supporting an institution that makes lives harder for millions of individuals all over the world?

Good night. Go watch "Spotlight" if you still don't believe us."

What do you want out of life?

Crossroads

My body, now that we will not be traveling together much longer
I begin to feel a new tenderness toward you, very raw and unfamiliar,
like what I remember of love when I was young–

love that was so often foolish in its objectives
but never in its choices, its intensities.
Too much demanded in advance, too much that could not be promised–

My soul has been so fearful, so violent:
forgive its brutality.
As though it were that soul, my hand moves over you cautiously,

not wishing to give offense
but eager, finally, to achieve expression as substance:

it is not the earth I will miss,
it is you I will miss.


-- Louise Glück

Marathon

1)
Lately I've been bingeing on Wong Kar Wai films to help me fall asleep. But who was I kidding? Watching poignant movies always make me stay up longer. With my emotions and thoughts stimulated into comprehensible words, these films help give form to whatever feelings I can't seem to express. That's always been the case for me. I actively seek art, poetry, and stories to find an anchor, something familiar that could perhaps make sense of this strange condition called existence.

2)
Wong Kar Wai is fascinated by the beauty of sadness, loss, and what it means to be alone. It's easy to say most people relate with the lonesomeness of his characters and their failure to move on. Most of his pictures resonate great nostalgia and longing, which is a recurring theme in most of his films. After tonight's marathon, I noticed the notion of consciously moving forward seems understated in his work. There is a lot to be learned from getting drunk with our regrets.

3)
I love my solitude. I love it so much sometimes I think I can never make my relationships last. But I only require enough time to be who I am. Someone who values being alone can understand this. At the same time, I seek genuine companionship. It's become exceedingly rare to find people who listen and understand. Oddly enough, I've found one.

4)
I have preoccupations. I exhaust themes until I find another subject worthy of my time. All art borders on obsession. I don't think I can keep writing once I've lost that. Or hell. I keep writing anyway.

5)
I recall how I used to give parts of myself away. It wasn't as difficult as it is now. It's not that I didn't mind, I actually enjoyed sharing my time with others. I'd give a hand, a strand of my hair, a limb. I didn't expect much in return. I knew I could never get back parts of myself, but I willingly gave them away. I had to stop because it started to hurt--not because I lost myself. Who were these people? I couldn't count on any of them.

6)
Movement is inevitable-- we can't really stay in one place even if we desire to. I recall my graduate school professor say, "Don't you worry! Before you know it, you will be very different." Those were his remarks when I said I was tired of writing about the same things. I guess that was precisely it. I hated the idea of change, so I kept writing about what once was. God knows how many times I replay places in my head. When those pictures don't satisfy me anymore, I play every possibility to the limit. You can call this overthinking that overlaps with daydreaming. In reality, I was looking for something constant in my life. I made myself sick that way.

7)
Time may move slow for some of us, but we change even when we don't intend to. No life can be contained. I think that's the beauty and tragedy of being human: We never know what we'll end up doing. People can say they'll do one thing, and do the exact opposite. And, as life would have it, external influences can and will change every plan for us, whether we agree to them or not.

8)
We barely survive the abuses 
we inflict upon ourselves
We never mean to be unkind 
the colors leave us blind
We get what we deserve 
and we pay for what we get

Here is the game and here is the cycle
While I ride my motorbykle
Here is the game and here is the cycle
While I ride my motorbykle

Ride...

We brave the accusations 
and stand on burning bridges
Blame it all on weakness  
and crucify our innocence
We get what we deserve 
and we pay for what we get

Here is the game and here is the cycle
While I ride my motorbykle
Here is the game and here is the cycle
While I ride my motorbykle

Now we have come to our highways' end
Run along now and carry on
Embrace the changes, sanctify this distance
We're certified experienced 
to do it all again

Boy Breaking Glass

To Marc Crawford
from whom the commission


Whose broken window is a cry of art
(success, that winks aware
as elegance, as a treasonable faith)
is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.
Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.
Our barbarous and metal little man.

“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.
If not an overture, a desecration.”

Full of pepper and light
and Salt and night and cargoes.

“Don’t go down the plank
if you see there’s no extension.
Each to his grief, each to
his loneliness and fidgety revenge.
Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”

The only sanity is a cup of tea.
The music is in minors.

Each one other
is having different weather.

“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!
And this is everything I have for me.”

Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,
the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,
runs. A sloppy amalgamation.
A mistake.
A cliff.
A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.


-- Gwendolyn Brooks

Continuum

I closed my eyes
to escape today, and I dream
of a hopeful village
claimed by the ocean

I closed my palms
to form a fist, and a sparrow
stretched its wings
for another flight

I closed myself
to all my lovers, and a country
decides to relinquish
its death sentence

I closed my ears
to useless secrets, and a man
longs to speak
with a lost friend

I closed my father’s closet,
and I see his eyes
when I stare in the mirror

I closed my future
to the construction
of a new home, and families
move to different cities daily

I closed the door
to my room, and a starving cat
finds its way
through my window

I closed the curtain
to help the night, and the dawn
breaks in the other
end of the world


After Suimei Kawai