Blogs from Jupiter

Blogging has been my emotional outlet since our family found out Dad’s terminal cancer. Relatives and friends have always asked me for updates: on how dad is doing and on how the family is doing. Though I could really not go into full detail writing about our experiences, I always refer people to my blogs. It really helps emotionally especially when one is able to put into words what he or she exactly feels.

I am overwhelmed by the support and nice words from those people who read my blogs, particularly the personal messages sent through my email. I am humbled by the fact that people take time to read and pray for us in this time of distress. The support has made me a stronger person.

Blogging has become an exercise, as I am preparing myself for heavy writing in the next few years, and probably until the day I die. Dad has a lot of unfinished works, books that delved around on Dad’s kind of spirituality, which is, as of this time, still very Greek to me. Yes, believe it or not, I’ve become a spiritual person, as a result of Papa’s remaining days here on earth. Our Dad’s wish: for us, his children, to be spiritual, to realize our life’s real purpose. Dad has also left me the daunting task of continuing writing his books.

It now makes sense to me: my love for reading and writing, why I took a writing course, why I have a writing job, etcetera, etcetera. Despite the fact that I’ve been struggling with my writing, I continue to write, write, and write. I am always open to critics. I don’t mind getting edited or being flagged by a grammar police or when an English language expert sarcastically comments: “Is this English you are writing?!” Writing is more than a profession and source of livelihood. This is my vocation.

Also, my interests have changed to things that my Dad has always and patiently taught us. My Dad persevered in teaching us life lessons and esoteric knowledge. And honestly, there were times that I pretend to listen because I really don’t understand. Dad is a sought after speaker in Eastern spirituality, philosophy, theosophy and mysticism. He has a collection of unpublished works, and one book that is about to hit the book stands very soon. He always finds time to lecture to us topics which he lectures to other people. Papa is really one unique Dad.

Growing up with a very spiritual father (and whose age gap is more of a generation gap; I’m 30, the eldest in a brood of five, and Dad is in his late 70s), is not so smooth sailing. Dad belongs to that generation wherein spanking and kneeling on salt were modes of punishment for disobedient kids. Dad is one heck of a disciplinarian (and my Mom too).

Because of my parents’ strict way of rearing us, my siblings and I had our rebel periods. I had mine during college and right after college. I went through a lot. I know I’ve hurt people, did a lot of bad stuff, and was hedonistic. I was bad, really bad. Did things that I couldn’t believe I could do. It was like possession, and the metamorphosis was like self-exorcism.

But I’ve changed and outgrew that stage. I’ve asked God’s forgiveness, and really changed my uncivilized ways. I started to take my life seriously. I was a certified good boy (or at least tried to be one). But even with that, I wasn’t spiritually nourished. Empty.

In search of spirituality, I tried religion. I searched for my God in churches, in Sunday service, in a mosque, in a Buddhist temple, while talking to a swami, in the company of my Christian friends, while argiung to a roving evangelist inside a bus, and many more. At the end of the search, I ended up at home… with Dad. I don’t have to search further because all the while, God was at home. And while God is at home, God is also everywhere.

This time around, I tried to listen and understand my Dad. And it wasn’t really hard understanding him. He made me realize the commonness and diversity, the union and the divide, the variety of religions and faiths, the colors of races, evolution and revolution… and that behind the beauty of it all is an omnipotent power we call God. People find God in different ways. As the saying goes, different strokes for different folks.

We all climb a mountain; I may take the northern route, and another may try the eastern side. But at the end of the day, our goal is to reach the summit. Some will reach the top first, some will still take awhile, some will find a shortcut, some will seek refuge in a cave when it rains, some will get lost, and some will fall in the abyss, and some will try climbing again.

Dad is going soon. He has been restless for the past days. But I have assured him that when he leaves, I am ready to embrace my life’s mission and purpose here on earth.

You haven’t left yet, Dad, but I already miss you.