A Hut

This is no twist of fate being here at the moment–it is already written in God’s own plan–another unexpected journey I believe defined by grace alone. Seeing me in this dwelling is very surprising and funny too, but if relearning things is ought to perhaps, so be it. 

It is neither a new world nor was a home. I had been here years ago and struggled to live a life. Aside from taking pleasure in sunrise and sunset, in stargazing, and in beautiful lotuses and lilies, the rest was a pretense. Every single minute was paranoia from dangerous snakes and other unfriendly creatures that creep… and many more.

Happy to say, the situation this time is no longer as before. It has changed so much and that includes my feeling towards this particular space. I still see dangerous reptiles here every now and then though, but this is now neatened up for the guests to enjoy.

And now a pretty hut is built by my former boss–where gestures of kindness is extended to anyone, anytime–to me just to have a humble abode for awhile.

Still sick when I got here and needed a resting place (not a hospital bed). My body was so aware from tip to toe that only fresh air and water therapy I’d be fine again. It has been my place of healing where I regained my strength back. 

Right in this hut where every single prayer uttered night and day had never been that all-important–it didn’t matter whether each was softly spoken or not. Thank God for the provision of a hideout away from pollution including all the noise.

The hut I’m staying at present is another temporary home sharing the same joy with other inhabitants aside from the hosts themselves. For the past weeks until this very second is a daily reminder of showing goodness–at least for me.

People come in and out of this shade–a shelter not necessarily in times of a drought. And each one is just like me who needs mercy unconditionally regardless of reasons.  

Everything in this abode is inexpensive or free except a hope against hope. I’m enjoying the nature one busy man is envious about. I’m so blessed with a family and friendship one man could claim. Laughter in this tiny dwelling is seemingly endless. It’s a perfect place to live for now.   

A hut is only a hut–not how I look at it this time–it means a lot to me.

Big Fat Role

In spite of bestowed titles from my previous works, half of my existence struggled because I was always a front liner. As a leader, I was taught to serve–not to dictate.

As a Director, most of my functions were behind the scene, and yet didn’t limit my jurisdiction in the office alone. I taught learners that required long patience, deeper love, and more mercy too.  

Role is just a role, and it is not my nature to work my way up to get that promising recognition. I touch lives directly instead of staying transcendent. I educate anyone, anytime, anywhere regardless of my academic achievements.

When I asked a mega-church pastor (who was a PhD graduate receiving $12,500 USD a month at that time) just a minute of counseling because I was depressed, his response was surprisingly disappointing. “Why me?!” he refused.

I didn’t talk to him after that and until his death. I was not angry or am now either, but that encounter taught me a different perspective. He must have had a reason for such refusal.

Thinking over that one situation at my present age, I realized am just different in my understanding of a title. I usually defy protocol over rally round. For one big reason, it is always a joy to help others in need–who knows it only comes once.

Last week I poured my heart out on Facebook, I posted:

“For a week now over meals, my former boss keeps persuading me to take his huge responsibility as an Executive Director and have me oversee the foundation like my own. But I don’t think I’m ready for such a big fat role. And when I refused telling him to offer it to someone else, he said, ‘I am keeping it until you made up your mind.’ Thank God for rare individuals who see things in me those others don’t. I usually get wrong impressions from others.”

Whether or not I’ll take the offer in the future, my outlook about dealing people in need remains the same. My circumstances might change–for the better or a twist of fate, but not my heart.

A lot of people are so hungry for power or position or fame or money and are willing to go through anything–with heads getting bigger and bigger. I don’t want them.   

It is just a big fat role!

Forgiveness

Lady Riders

Pigs might fly, but not hopping on motorbikes with lady riders–never from back home–not even once. And yet riding cars with girls was another story. It wasn’t about sexism at all. I just didn’t see a lot of women rode motorcycles growing up especially in long hours ride.

Aside from my ego in protest, I thought it was always unnerving to have an opposite sex speed or crawl the two-wheeled vehicle. It’s an initial reaction of a guy perhaps. But this was many years ago. Now I don’t really mind.

I had my first in Saigon when a female friend chauffeured me around town and back home–awkward–but not the second until the countless times. I got used to it all those nine years.

When I moved in Cambodia this scenario was not atypical. Although my adopted sons and male friends were my regular riders, my adopted daughters and female co-teachers had me hopped on going to villages and remote places so many instances. It was an inseparable life-experience for seven years. I was fine.   

The same story when I lived in Laos. And for few times, my female Frisbee team mates were so kind enough to give me rides to the field and back to my guesthouse. To explain, I did not own a motorbike there and did not know the way to the arena. Again–it didn’t bother me.

Just a few days ago, I found myself in a seemingly stewing picture with a lady rider–my adopted daughter. She had to pick me up in Phnom Penh and rode through the dangerous streets to get to her village to join the ceremony with the rest of my adopted children who had been waiting for me.

“We’re almost there” I overheard she told her brother on the phone. I thought so, but it was actually just at half the distance–hitting the road was like forever. We survived the night safe and sound anyway. Thank God!

Two days after that special get together, I had to trust another lady rider (another adopted daughter of mine) to bring me back to the city–when grace was needed like never before. Riding with her was the only mean at the moment. And so we woke up early morning and took off with hopes to get away from dangers. It was another day to thank God for.

After all she was a rider.

Above all, I knew God’s grace will follow us through.

For seventeen years, riding motorbikes with lady riders have taught me significant things–gender equality and supporting women’s capability–an experience I would not have had encountered just staying back home. Thankful to these lady riders of my life! 

Like Sign

More than just catching a glimpse, the perfect location to spot hypocrites is on Facebook aside from unwanted peers and community. I got a lot of them in my friend’s list whose hypocrisy, indifference, and greed blown me away, unexplained. 

I’m not going to talk about this social network itself. For sure it is not the problem at all. And I don’t find any reason to distort the image of this supposedly wonderful way to catch up with family and friends. 

Few years ago I started blocking and unfriending people. I still do until today and will still do in the future. I had no other reason for doing so, but for their overwhelming selfishness–such character which gives me a bolt from the blue endlessly.

“How come those people don’t even know how to rejoice or mourn or at least appreciate others' circumstance by simply clicking the ‘like sign’ if writing a comment was truly a hassle,” I wondered like a million times. And I’d still ask the same thing if I forgot I really had an answer to that.

If “non-likers” is an existing compound word, then I’ll describe these people this–whose thinking and feeling are defined by dry affection towards others. They are worse than boring person and even worst like living dead. So indifferent!

They say they hate this social network, but you see them online the whole day or many times. The truth is they just don’t want to be part of someone’s life because it is another burden to carry. After all they are tired of understanding their own mystery and attitude problem. So get out of Facebook–two faced!

See those morons know how to post on their timelines too or they actually do as often as every day more than you can imagine. And there you found yourself clicking the “like sign” or left some comments. But they never care about yours–not even a second thought. What a greedy pigs!

I gave these people the benefits of the doubts like countless times and also second chances by unblocking and friending again. But then I got tired. So I blocked them again forever. 

Of course, it is always a choice. I know. And I shouldn’t be mad about this simple thing. I am not mad in fact. I’m just dumbfounded how people define “like sign” only for their own selfish interest. They really do.

Honestly, I don’t mind anyone getting hundred or thousand likes, it makes me happy. But I do mind when these greedy ones get theirs–they don’t deserve even just a single like. They should know that. Or perhaps they don’t know what this sign is for.  

It is trending now how reaction or more contemporary like signs are added to help you when words are just too long to express, but it don’t really matter to these non-likers. Please remember that it may be a nonsense gesture to click that “like sign” to someone who is greedy, but not to somebody. Keep clicking! 

Travelers

“Someone who is traveling or who travels often; a person who moves around from place to place instead of living in one place for a long time” –Merriam Webster Dictionary–

On the surface the definition sounds good, but there is more to this than meets the eye–only incurious individuals can never cognize. In short, it is a complicated lifestyle one man will consider while another person to tolerate–both insiders and outsiders must absorb the complexity it brings–it doesn’t matter when or where. 

If you have been a traveler all your life or once, then you are beginning to have hints where this conversation is going–or perhaps not. Good for you if you had a different perspective about other travelers aside from yourself or simply an opposite experience than mine.    

Half of my existence is happy and the rest is regretful to have known travelers along the way. As always I will not name names to gratify my rage and my joy writing down my thoughts about this subject. I only have one intention for this specific post–an indirect speech. 

When I first traveled outside my domicile it gave me joy (it still does in few occasions) meeting people from diverse cultures. For one reason I was too naive of so many things around me. Funny me, but that feeling of excitement made me so oaf about the real world at the same time. 

Now I’m completely unlike. Of course I don’t want to be clumsy expressing my comments and so I must be careful with the choice of words here. First and above all, there are a lot of travelers from the so called first-world-countries who are very culturally insensitive and disoriented. And this surprised me big time–so flabbergasted. They are so annoying. 

Sorry for this and I am not labeling everyone. Their (particularly those people I knew and met) greediness, arrogance, superiority complex, stupidity, racism, behaviors, and ignorance towards insiders chill me to the bone. They behave like they haven’t known the word CARE. They are just full of prejudices, complaints, whining, and dissatisfaction. They scared me to death. 

My family is no rich and I’ve been very transparent about it, but I don’t act like I’m culturally isolated not knowing anything. In fact these people are well educated and that makes me so sad. Now I know why it was so difficult to find angels while traveling which I assumed would be easy.  

On the one hand, this also made me realize that advanced education or modern orientation is no guarantee to becoming a well-mannered being or travelers–it is but one’s prerogative. Like a writer who has to decide the fate of his characters–and so them. Isn’t it human is born with free will?     

If for every traveler is the same, then I don’t mind going just for a bivouac–where and when I didn’t have to prolong my agony in the presence of these people. Happy to say every traveler is totally dissimilar. 

In my entire life as a backpacker (who travels often), I still cannot define the true nature of every traveler. It is so complex for comprehension indeed.

A Father's Love

I might be emotionally carried away with any movie that portrays the unconditional love of a dad, but still it won’t give me a genuine impression how it feels to have one–I was never attached to my father. Like millions of kids out there in the same boat, they will sympathize with me without a doubt.

This was one of the many wonderful things destiny had deprived me of growing up as a kid. But for every difficult life’s story ever told, sure a lesson to learn or can spring from. I had mine. Above all, I moved on from that awful circumstance.

Sorry to say, it’s a long story.

Who never wanted a father’s love??? Every human being has this utmost desire, but there are things in life that are totally out of our hands. It is undeniably painful, but we must not embrace this agony for too long or else we will never give other people a chance to love us. I think it helped me personally instead of dwelling to the notion of hope springs eternal.

It took me a long time to let go, but not forever. After all it is not how fast one can recover. From my very experience, accepting it little by little is what I needed. No rush. It was I’d say my way of coping up.

Honest to goodness, I didn’t experience such kind of love, but it doesn’t make me less a loving father. And so it surprises me still to see or know how others pass the abusive, unloving behaviors of their father to their children. The same with the people I know even those who are close to my heart.

Life is not fair at all times, and in this life I have come to fully grasp that I don’t need to experience a father’s love to love a child–even not my own children–it is a choice. I have chosen to be loving as a person or as a farther myself. A father is not the only person who can influence someone to be loving, but good to those who have ones.

Whenever friends asked me about this around the table, I felt so uncomfortable. But that was long ago–not anymore. Things have changed since I allowed the greatest love of the heavenly father to transform my life and also by making a decision to stand up for what is right.

   

Like I said never had experienced the love of an earthly father in real life, but I have it. It is mine now to decide whether or not to follow the footsteps of my father.

A father’s love? You tell me!