I remember when snail mail was still the common way to send letters. I would select the most appropriate paper and envelope I could find. But first, I would write my draft on a “scratch pad”, then painstakingly copy my letter to stationery. Of course I would select a good pen and would be too conscious about how each strokes would be done. It would take even more effort to go to the post office, line for stamps and drop the mail. I remember the anxiousness and agitation, wondering if my letter was already received. But the days and weeks of anticipation do not matter in comparison to the excitement of receiving a reply. If you’re like me, you would open the envelope, meticulously read the date when the stamps were cancelled, and count the date backwards to find out when it was sent.
That was not a long time ago. Today we have email and text messages. I wonder what could be next? Of course, this advancement in technology has it’s price. I’m not referring to the value of each mobile phones, although some of them have inconceivable price. I’m referring to how it changed our perspectives in communication.
Right now, when we send letters through email, we expect that it will be answered within the day, if not within hours or minutes. We would get disappointed if our email would be replied tomorrow or the day after it. We would be annoyed when our boss would not stop to ask if we already received reply from our customers, and there is none.
The expectation is even more intense with text messages. I know of couples who would get into disagreement when one of them would not be able to reply within hours after a message is sent to the other’s mobile. Because of the speed in which we send information, we err to believe that all of our messages must be answered immediately. Because of the speed in which we receive information, we fail to distinguish between what is urgent and what is not, what is important, what is trivial.
Perhaps one error is to equate information with communication. To inform is to give an idea of, but to communicate is to exchange information. We may inform but not necessarily communicate, but whenever we communicate, we inform. The error is to think that when we constantly send email or text message, we are already communicating with the recipient. In fact, we may not be aware of it but we may already be spamming, or giving unsolicited messages. With the advancement of technology, there is a danger that the content of our message has diminished if not lost altogether its value. If we are constantly bombarded with messages, the tendency is to ultimately ignore the messages altogether. Worst would be to arrive at a point when the sender fo the message will be totally ignored as well.
New technology does not necessarily mean that we have progressed in our knowledge. In fact, because information is easily accessible, we could as easily get the wrong or false information more than the facts. With spell checkers available in our word processors, and with the evolution of text shortcuts in SMS, we should not wonder if in case we will regress in our education.
Almost ten years ago, my friends and I used to meet after office. We would even meet sometimes during weekends. We would call each other before we leave our work and agree on a specific time and place to meet.
Mobile phone was not yet popular at that time, at least not in the Philippines. The internet was just starting to be popular. But not everyone had an internet connection nor an email address. To get an internet provider would be costly, even more to own a PC. One could not even imagine that there would be a thing called SMS. But we did not miss to communicate, or at the very least get in touch with each other. In one way or another, we knew how each one was doing.
Things have changed. Today, we rarely see each other. We could only meet if one would celebrate birthday. Sometimes not even. It is very ironic how technology has advanced in terms of communication, yet we now fail to see each other. In fact I even receive more text and email messages from acquaintances. And I’m sure that they even receive less from me. I must write them a letter soon.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
A science news in Yahoo says that many people are planning important events on July 7, 2007. That is because it falls on the 7th day of the seventh month of 2007, or 07/07/07 in a mm/dd/yy format. Part of the news reads “Brides and grooms, especially, looking for a little extra dose of marital fortune, are flocking to the altar in droves on 07/07/07, according to wedding watchers.”
There are a lot of things I found very odd about this. First is that how a news like this could fall under the category of science. But then again, I read within the middle part of the text that it has something to do with numerology, or “para-sciences” like astrology. Second, and most odd about it is that I really wonder how a certain day can impact ones life. Is it really possible that there are certain days that are bad luck and certain days that are good luck for one person? I guess that would depend if you do believe in luck, or to put it bluntly, if you are superstitious. Can numbers control our fate?
Can we help not to be a superstitious people? Even in an age where technology keeps on evolving, and improving, I still get to witness irrational acts or reactions. There are still people who don’t want to get pictures in groups of three, avoid going out on a Friday that falls on the 13th day of the month, knocks on wood whenever some unspeakable words are accidentally uttered, and other things I still don’t get the logic of.
At the office, we receive a daily “Horoscope” email from one email administrator. Except during certain times that I want to read something amusing, I always delete it. I don’t believe that following or avoiding certain numbers, colors or even days could have a direct effect on the outcome of my life. Perhaps if I was heavy on gambling, then certain numbers might be a favorite, but I wouldn’t consider lucky.
I just can’t put together how the movement of planets and stars, which are way far distant from, light years away in fact, could have influence on my daily activities? But then again, I know of a person who is very fearful of the moon, full moon to be specific. This person hides at home, closes all the windows and doesn’t go out during the full moon. Perhaps this proves that the term lunatic is no trivia at all.
Speaking of dates, it fascinates me how some people, and I find it peculiar to most women, remember with complete accuracy the exact dates in certain events of their lives. While I have bad memory in history, there are some people who are so good at remembering the dates, even to the littlest details of what color this or that person wore. I guess some things I consider petty, are most important to others. What a difference a day makes is not found in the day itself, but is found in the person that makes it.
There are a lot of things I found very odd about this. First is that how a news like this could fall under the category of science. But then again, I read within the middle part of the text that it has something to do with numerology, or “para-sciences” like astrology. Second, and most odd about it is that I really wonder how a certain day can impact ones life. Is it really possible that there are certain days that are bad luck and certain days that are good luck for one person? I guess that would depend if you do believe in luck, or to put it bluntly, if you are superstitious. Can numbers control our fate?
Can we help not to be a superstitious people? Even in an age where technology keeps on evolving, and improving, I still get to witness irrational acts or reactions. There are still people who don’t want to get pictures in groups of three, avoid going out on a Friday that falls on the 13th day of the month, knocks on wood whenever some unspeakable words are accidentally uttered, and other things I still don’t get the logic of.
At the office, we receive a daily “Horoscope” email from one email administrator. Except during certain times that I want to read something amusing, I always delete it. I don’t believe that following or avoiding certain numbers, colors or even days could have a direct effect on the outcome of my life. Perhaps if I was heavy on gambling, then certain numbers might be a favorite, but I wouldn’t consider lucky.
I just can’t put together how the movement of planets and stars, which are way far distant from, light years away in fact, could have influence on my daily activities? But then again, I know of a person who is very fearful of the moon, full moon to be specific. This person hides at home, closes all the windows and doesn’t go out during the full moon. Perhaps this proves that the term lunatic is no trivia at all.
Speaking of dates, it fascinates me how some people, and I find it peculiar to most women, remember with complete accuracy the exact dates in certain events of their lives. While I have bad memory in history, there are some people who are so good at remembering the dates, even to the littlest details of what color this or that person wore. I guess some things I consider petty, are most important to others. What a difference a day makes is not found in the day itself, but is found in the person that makes it.
What A Difference A Day Makes
Words & Music by Maria Grever & Stanley Adams
As popularized by by Dinah Washington, 1959
What a diff'rence a day makes
Twenty-four little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain
My yesterday was blue, dear
Today I'm part of you, dear
My lonely nights are through, dear
Since you said you were mine
What a diff'rence a day makes
There's a rainbow before me
Skies above can't be stormy
Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss
It's heaven when you
Find romance on your menu
What a diff'rence a day makes
And the difference is you
What a diff'rence a day makes
There's a rainbow before me
Skies above can't be stormy
Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss
It's heaven when you
Find romance on your menu
What a diff'rence a day makes
And the difference is you.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
“Good is the enemy of great.” I heard this phrase during one of the meeting we had at our office. As I was listening, I seem to get the idea being implied that “good isn’t good enough.” Did it say to mean that we don’t have to be content with being good alone? That instead of being good, we have to aim to be great? So I ask myself, “When does it stop?”
The phrase is popularized by Good to Great author Jim Collins. This is probably borrowed from a quote from Dictionnaire Philosophique by the French Philosopher Voltaire literally translated as "The best is the enemy of good.", but is more commonly cited as "The perfect is the enemy of the good." There is much debate over what Voltaire originally meant when he said “the best is the enemy of good.” But it seems that most interpretation have the idea that sometimes aiming the best is not necessarily good, or might not necessarily turn out good.
Just recently, I received an email with the subject “Staff died due to over work.” The girl, just at the age of 28 was suspected to have died of deep vein thrombosis, a result of inactivity spending too much time with her laptop. She wanted to achieve her dream of “flying high” at the expense of her health. We might find it amusing and say it might not happen to us. But how sure are we that we are not heading in that same direction, with less intensity?
In a cut-throat culture that we adopt today, there seems to be a pressure to edge out competition by being more innovative. When competition comes up with an idea that we have not thought of, we are at the edge of our seats, hear alarm sounds and push the panic button. We should have thought of it first. But since we have not thought of it first, we have to come up with something better.
What could be wrong with being “good enough?” Why couldn’t the good that we do be not good enough? We keep on pushing the standards up to the limit. In the process, we sacrifice a lot of things because we consider them minor, for the sake of achieving a better good or in this case for the sake of achieving the "best." But could the best be good for us?
Consider the following scenario. You might be going to work following a normal schedule. Suddenly, a light bulb pops in your head and gives you the vision that you can accommodate extra load by going to work a little earlier than your time. So you wake up a little earlier than normal. This goes on for some time until you think that “I could do more work by staying a little late than I usually do.” So you stay a little longer. What is thirty minutes anyway? Then your thirty minutes become an hour. Then an hour becomes two. Suddenly, you have to work extra during the weekend because you have to finish a deadline. This becomes a habit until you no longer realize that what used to be is no longer your normal schedule and that what you are now used to is your new normal schedule.
Again consider the following scenario. Last year you have projected a 75% target and surpassed it by achieving 80%. But you are not contented and so we have to go beyond the target. Since you were able to achieve 80% last year, you have to do better by setting 85% as target. And you will only be happy if you achieve beyond the set target. So you have to overhaul a lot of things. You might be urged to “think out of the box” just to stress to think of something different than the good you have been doing. So you fix something that isn’t even broken. In the end, you set priorities and goals to achieve, but sacrificing the minor things that are good and yet make up a whole.
The phrase is popularized by Good to Great author Jim Collins. This is probably borrowed from a quote from Dictionnaire Philosophique by the French Philosopher Voltaire literally translated as "The best is the enemy of good.", but is more commonly cited as "The perfect is the enemy of the good." There is much debate over what Voltaire originally meant when he said “the best is the enemy of good.” But it seems that most interpretation have the idea that sometimes aiming the best is not necessarily good, or might not necessarily turn out good.
Just recently, I received an email with the subject “Staff died due to over work.” The girl, just at the age of 28 was suspected to have died of deep vein thrombosis, a result of inactivity spending too much time with her laptop. She wanted to achieve her dream of “flying high” at the expense of her health. We might find it amusing and say it might not happen to us. But how sure are we that we are not heading in that same direction, with less intensity?
In a cut-throat culture that we adopt today, there seems to be a pressure to edge out competition by being more innovative. When competition comes up with an idea that we have not thought of, we are at the edge of our seats, hear alarm sounds and push the panic button. We should have thought of it first. But since we have not thought of it first, we have to come up with something better.
What could be wrong with being “good enough?” Why couldn’t the good that we do be not good enough? We keep on pushing the standards up to the limit. In the process, we sacrifice a lot of things because we consider them minor, for the sake of achieving a better good or in this case for the sake of achieving the "best." But could the best be good for us?
Consider the following scenario. You might be going to work following a normal schedule. Suddenly, a light bulb pops in your head and gives you the vision that you can accommodate extra load by going to work a little earlier than your time. So you wake up a little earlier than normal. This goes on for some time until you think that “I could do more work by staying a little late than I usually do.” So you stay a little longer. What is thirty minutes anyway? Then your thirty minutes become an hour. Then an hour becomes two. Suddenly, you have to work extra during the weekend because you have to finish a deadline. This becomes a habit until you no longer realize that what used to be is no longer your normal schedule and that what you are now used to is your new normal schedule.
Again consider the following scenario. Last year you have projected a 75% target and surpassed it by achieving 80%. But you are not contented and so we have to go beyond the target. Since you were able to achieve 80% last year, you have to do better by setting 85% as target. And you will only be happy if you achieve beyond the set target. So you have to overhaul a lot of things. You might be urged to “think out of the box” just to stress to think of something different than the good you have been doing. So you fix something that isn’t even broken. In the end, you set priorities and goals to achieve, but sacrificing the minor things that are good and yet make up a whole.
"Perfection of means and confusion of goals seem - in my opinion - to characterize our age." - Einstein
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I woke up early this morning. I was to accompany my grandfather to his hometown in Pampanga. At eighty plus years old, he is still up and about. He is never idle and might get sick of inactivity. But as the years slowly pass by, I realize that he has few years left remaining in his life.
He could still manage to go travel alone. But still, I egged on my mom that I should go with him. Even if he is still agile, perhaps even more than people a decade younger than he is, I still fear that he should not be left alone traveling that far a distance.
Our first stop was at Bacolor, my grandfather’s hometown. This was the town mostly damaged by lahar during the onslaught of Mt. Pinatubo’s eruption in the 1990s. It’s not as deserted as it has been the last time we saw the place. Some road improvements have been made. New stalls, although still empty, have been developed for the town market. What used to be the upper floor of the old houses is now paved to ground. We never saw any of his relatives, except for some people who knew him long ago. I guess we just went there so he could see the place where he spent his childhood years. We saw the trade school where he studied. As we passed a town statue, he proudly told me that it was his grandfather, a previous mayor of the town. Here I also learned a little bit of history, that Bacolor was previously the capital of Pampanga.
It took us only a few minutes stay, and off we went to see his kuya (older brother) at Angeles City. During our jeepney ride, we both noticed all the changes that have happened in the places we passed by. He used to bring me along to Pampanga when I was still a child, more than two decades ago, driving his yellow Beetle.
When he saw his kuya, there was no much fuss about their greeting. But I am very sure that they are both happy even just to see each other. Both are now bachelors again. His kuya told me that he is now eighty six years old, as he reads the morning paper sans eyeglasses on. They had nothing much to say to each other. Sometimes, the silence is even deafening. But I guess when you’ve reached an age as they have been, and when you’ve been with each other growing up, you don’t need much talk to convey what you feel for one another.
During the short few hours we’ve been there, there are some few things that impressed upon me.
I learned about the hardship my grandfather and his brother have been through. They grew up without a father. My grandfather was still inside his pregnant mother and his brother was just a year old when their father died. It was because of that void that my grandpa wanted that his children would never miss a father's love.
He recalls how, as children, they were raised by their grandmother. I think he mentioned that many times. Perhaps when you reach his age, you either repeat things a lot unconsciously, or you want to put emphasis on some things that are very important to you.
It makes me glad that I accompanied my grandpa. I realize that it gives him a little extra strength to visit his hometown, and to see his brother again. On the other hand, I also feel a bit sad when I try to analyze this trip. There would be not much left for these kinds of visit in the future. Sooner or later, each one of them would not be able to travel. If God would forbid, this could be the last time the brothers may see each other, or the last time my grandpa would ever have a look at his hometown.
It must be important to once in a while, go back to your roots. Visit your kinsmen, and pay respect to your elders. I might pay a visit to Abra one day soon.
He could still manage to go travel alone. But still, I egged on my mom that I should go with him. Even if he is still agile, perhaps even more than people a decade younger than he is, I still fear that he should not be left alone traveling that far a distance.
Our first stop was at Bacolor, my grandfather’s hometown. This was the town mostly damaged by lahar during the onslaught of Mt. Pinatubo’s eruption in the 1990s. It’s not as deserted as it has been the last time we saw the place. Some road improvements have been made. New stalls, although still empty, have been developed for the town market. What used to be the upper floor of the old houses is now paved to ground. We never saw any of his relatives, except for some people who knew him long ago. I guess we just went there so he could see the place where he spent his childhood years. We saw the trade school where he studied. As we passed a town statue, he proudly told me that it was his grandfather, a previous mayor of the town. Here I also learned a little bit of history, that Bacolor was previously the capital of Pampanga.
It took us only a few minutes stay, and off we went to see his kuya (older brother) at Angeles City. During our jeepney ride, we both noticed all the changes that have happened in the places we passed by. He used to bring me along to Pampanga when I was still a child, more than two decades ago, driving his yellow Beetle.
When he saw his kuya, there was no much fuss about their greeting. But I am very sure that they are both happy even just to see each other. Both are now bachelors again. His kuya told me that he is now eighty six years old, as he reads the morning paper sans eyeglasses on. They had nothing much to say to each other. Sometimes, the silence is even deafening. But I guess when you’ve reached an age as they have been, and when you’ve been with each other growing up, you don’t need much talk to convey what you feel for one another.
During the short few hours we’ve been there, there are some few things that impressed upon me.
I learned about the hardship my grandfather and his brother have been through. They grew up without a father. My grandfather was still inside his pregnant mother and his brother was just a year old when their father died. It was because of that void that my grandpa wanted that his children would never miss a father's love.
He recalls how, as children, they were raised by their grandmother. I think he mentioned that many times. Perhaps when you reach his age, you either repeat things a lot unconsciously, or you want to put emphasis on some things that are very important to you.
It makes me glad that I accompanied my grandpa. I realize that it gives him a little extra strength to visit his hometown, and to see his brother again. On the other hand, I also feel a bit sad when I try to analyze this trip. There would be not much left for these kinds of visit in the future. Sooner or later, each one of them would not be able to travel. If God would forbid, this could be the last time the brothers may see each other, or the last time my grandpa would ever have a look at his hometown.
It must be important to once in a while, go back to your roots. Visit your kinsmen, and pay respect to your elders. I might pay a visit to Abra one day soon.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
“He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how” - Friedrich Nietzsche
Someone asked me why I think so much of such things concerning my belief. Why not? I myself was surprised to be asked such a question. Why wouldn’t we think of things that matter to our future, even if we might consider it beyond our knowledge? Should we go on living life as if we are just passing by? If that is so, then we are no different from a headless chicken running around without any direction, without any goal.
Isn’t it a dreadful idea to think that we do not have any purpose or meaning at all? Why, even those who don’t believe in God or a creator have sets of ideas, theories or philosophies, and what-have-yous. And to me, however one might put it, that in itself is also a belief.
Neurologist and Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor, attempted to find meaning in life while he was in a Nazi concentration camp. He developed the term logotheraphy or “will to meaning” which states some basic principles that life has a meaning, even the most miserable ones, that our motivation to live is to find a meaning in our life, and that we have freedom to find that meaning in whatever circumstances we are in.
I used to memorize Epicurus’ philosophy that “death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist.” I thought it was cool not to be concerned about what happens next. But deep within me is a mixture of wonder and curiosity, fear and doubt. I wondered what must it be to experience death? So I was curious how such an experience could be. But of course I wouldn’t know. Who on earth would know? I didn’t dare attempt to find out either because I was afraid that somehow, something is wrong or missing from Epicurus’ statement. And so I doubted my own doubt. Death does concern me after all.
Again, I’ll borrow from Epicurus’ words but take license to alter it. “Death does concern us, because while we exist, we won’t know when it comes. And when it does come, where are we?”
Think about it.
Going back to my original question, what then is the meaning of my life? What is my purpose? Rick Warren opens his best selling book “The Purpose Driven Life” with the question “What on Earth am I here for?” But the basic tenet of his book, if I may phrase it loosely, is a that God has a generic purpose for us all. That we are designed to worship God, to belong to God’s family of believers, to become like Christ, to serve God and to fulfill God’s mission for us. I do not attempt to disagree with Warren’s model. But not only am I concerned with the “generic” purpose God has designed all of us for, but I am also concerned with the “specific” purpose God has planned for me.
My story is not yet done.
Someone asked me why I think so much of such things concerning my belief. Why not? I myself was surprised to be asked such a question. Why wouldn’t we think of things that matter to our future, even if we might consider it beyond our knowledge? Should we go on living life as if we are just passing by? If that is so, then we are no different from a headless chicken running around without any direction, without any goal.
Isn’t it a dreadful idea to think that we do not have any purpose or meaning at all? Why, even those who don’t believe in God or a creator have sets of ideas, theories or philosophies, and what-have-yous. And to me, however one might put it, that in itself is also a belief.
Neurologist and Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor, attempted to find meaning in life while he was in a Nazi concentration camp. He developed the term logotheraphy or “will to meaning” which states some basic principles that life has a meaning, even the most miserable ones, that our motivation to live is to find a meaning in our life, and that we have freedom to find that meaning in whatever circumstances we are in.
“It did not really matter what we expected from life, but ratherWhat then is the meaning of life? This has been one of the most frequently asked question, which developed different approach and variations. For Frankl, to have a meaning is to have a reason or an object to live. For some scientists, the meaning of life would be to find out where or how life originated. Philosophers and those concerned with ethics ask how we could make this life better, or what is the most virtuous way to live. Religion and spirituality is of course concerned with how we must live this life, and where we would be after this. Thus, I’m surprised at those who either ignore the question or doesn’t even ask it at all. This then leads me to the question of life after this. Or is there such a thing?what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life—daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual.”
I used to memorize Epicurus’ philosophy that “death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist.” I thought it was cool not to be concerned about what happens next. But deep within me is a mixture of wonder and curiosity, fear and doubt. I wondered what must it be to experience death? So I was curious how such an experience could be. But of course I wouldn’t know. Who on earth would know? I didn’t dare attempt to find out either because I was afraid that somehow, something is wrong or missing from Epicurus’ statement. And so I doubted my own doubt. Death does concern me after all.
Again, I’ll borrow from Epicurus’ words but take license to alter it. “Death does concern us, because while we exist, we won’t know when it comes. And when it does come, where are we?”
Think about it.
Going back to my original question, what then is the meaning of my life? What is my purpose? Rick Warren opens his best selling book “The Purpose Driven Life” with the question “What on Earth am I here for?” But the basic tenet of his book, if I may phrase it loosely, is a that God has a generic purpose for us all. That we are designed to worship God, to belong to God’s family of believers, to become like Christ, to serve God and to fulfill God’s mission for us. I do not attempt to disagree with Warren’s model. But not only am I concerned with the “generic” purpose God has designed all of us for, but I am also concerned with the “specific” purpose God has planned for me.
My story is not yet done.
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