MANILA, OCTOBER 1, 2003 (BULLETIN) Juan M. Flavier - THE barrio lad was born completely blindand totally deaf. For as long as he could remember. He lived in a world of darkness and silence.
Almost likean over-compensation, he evolved a supersensitive sense of touch. He could tell, as if he had a radarantennae, the presence of persons or things and exactly where they stood. By sheer memory, he had amental view of their hut. He could walk around effortlessly without bumping into anything. He knew therewere two narra chairs facing each other with a small table in between. On the table was a knitted tableclothon which rested a glass vase with plastic flowers. To the side was a window throughout which the cool barriobreeze streamed.
Almost likean over-compensation, he evolved a supersensitive sense of touch. He could tell, as if he had a radarantennae, the presence of persons or things and exactly where they stood.
By sheer memory, he had amental view of their hut. He could walk around effortlessly without bumping into anything. He knew therewere two narra chairs facing each other with a small table in between. On the table was a knitted tableclothon which rested a glass vase with plastic flowers. To the side was a window throughout which the cool barriobreeze streamed.
On one wall he knew there were shelves which displayed various statuettes and little
ceramic pieces. In the corner was a cabinet (tokador) with a glass door. Past the wall was their bedroom.
On one side was the bamboo stairs with five rungs leading to the dining area and kitchen.
Many times, he
would wonder about the colored appearance of the world around him. He imagined what the actual sounds
were of the vibrations he felt made by the people and things inside and outside the hut.
One day, the barrio
lad knelt and prayed. “My Creator, I do not mean to complain. But I am just so curious about the sights and
sounds which I am not privileged to experience.
I pray for You to please let me see and hear even just for
one day.”
In a flash, the young man was stunned by the flood of glaring light and sharp sounds. He marveled
at the play of colors outside the window — the lush trees and the bright blue sky. The voices of people, the
barking of dogs, the roar of tricycles... all pierced his eardrums like never before. Everything seemed exciting
and pleasurable.
But then he began to see and hear too much. He was particularly bothered by the measure
of unkind words. Of arguments filled with hate and enmity. Parents berating their wailing children. Women
crying in despair.
Young men cursing.
He was unsettled by the poverty around the barrio. Many huts were
dilapidated and unkempt. By the wayside were heaps of garbage. He was witness for the first time to the
cruelty that men do to fellow men.
He knelt down once more and prayed, “My Creator, thank you for your
positive reply to my petition. But now please give me back my piece of mind in my dark and quiet life. In a
world such as this, I prefer to be deaf and blind.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Parable of the LOVE's Definition
The Parable of the LOVE's Definition
The Farmer sat on the upturned wooden mortar in the front yard.
His left foot dangled on the ground. His right foot rested on the mortar with his bended knee supporting his
chin. Both hands manipulated a fishing net being repaired of holes. His twelve-year old son sat on a small
stool beside him. His position approximated his father;s except the body whittled a piece of guava wood
forming a turumpo (top). As the top began to form, the boy blurted out. " This toy top is in the form of a
heart. I know what a top is. The heart has the same shape but, come to think of it, I do not know exactly
what love is!" The father smiled knowingly and responded, " I do not know either but my grandfather once
told me this account. An angel was sent to find out how the world defined love. "The angel went to the sea
and asked the question. The sea answered that love was the river sending water. " The angel visited the
shore
and inquired of the definition of love. The shore said love was the tide that rose and fell each day. "The angel
soared to the mountain and queried the imposing peak. The mountain replied that love is the multitude of
stars that shone at night, :The angel stopped by the trees to find out their thoughts about love. The grains
answered that love was the gentle rains that nourished them. "The angel then asked the soul about love. The
soul replied that love is the heart or anything that giveth is love . For love is sharing and sharing is love. And
love is GOD.While GOD is love"
His left foot dangled on the ground. His right foot rested on the mortar with his bended knee supporting his
chin. Both hands manipulated a fishing net being repaired of holes. His twelve-year old son sat on a small
stool beside him. His position approximated his father;s except the body whittled a piece of guava wood
forming a turumpo (top). As the top began to form, the boy blurted out. " This toy top is in the form of a
heart. I know what a top is. The heart has the same shape but, come to think of it, I do not know exactly
what love is!" The father smiled knowingly and responded, " I do not know either but my grandfather once
told me this account. An angel was sent to find out how the world defined love. "The angel went to the sea
and asked the question. The sea answered that love was the river sending water. " The angel visited the
shore
and inquired of the definition of love. The shore said love was the tide that rose and fell each day. "The angel
soared to the mountain and queried the imposing peak. The mountain replied that love is the multitude of
stars that shone at night, :The angel stopped by the trees to find out their thoughts about love. The grains
answered that love was the gentle rains that nourished them. "The angel then asked the soul about love. The
soul replied that love is the heart or anything that giveth is love . For love is sharing and sharing is love. And
love is GOD.While GOD is love"
On Wednesday, May 09, 2012
The Parable of the Foreign Visitor
The Parable of the Foreign Visitor -----by Juan Flavier
The foreigner looked like any typical tourist.
He was evidently caucasian with his aquiline nose and tanned white skin. He sported a pinstriped pants and
a colorful polo shirt. Somewhat muddied, his shoes resembled those worn by tennis players. His hair was
slightly reddish with big curls all over his big head. Even for a caucasian, he was taller than their normal run.
A camera hung by a strap from his neck. Leisurely, he ambied by the narrow street of the rural town's
commercial district. Peddlers offered him various farm produce and souvenirs for sale. He shook his head to
everyone to signify disinterest. A middle aged farmer stopped to stare at the tourist. In that barrio, a
white-man was a rarity. So to see one was something of a spectacle. The farmer continued to gawk not
knowing the foreigner would take offense. Without warning, the tourist slapped the farmer with great force.
As the tiller of the soil sprawled on the sidewalk, others crowded around out of curiosity. A bystander
assisted the fallen man who now had traces of blood on his lips. The farmer stood up and said in anguish
more than anger, " What did you do that for? I did not do you any wrong. If at all, I was simply looking at
you. Is that an offense where you come from?" The foreigner braced himself just in case the crown ganged
up (pagtulung-tulungan) on him. Then he shouted, " That was for Pearl Harbor!" The farmer wiped the
blood from his lips and replied calmly, "Look , there is a mistake. I am not a Japanese. Maybe I have a slit
eyes. That is because I have a Chinese blood but I am a Filipino." The caucasian answered with some
belligerence " Chinese, Vietnamese, Burmese, Japanese....they're all the same to me." "Who are you
anyway?" asked the farmer. I am Mr. Goldberg," replied the foreigner. The farmer suddenly slapped the
foreigner on the face. :" That is for the Titanic!" :Hey I had nothing to do with the sinking of the Titanic,"
explained the foreigner somewhat disconcerted by the accusation and the assault." That was caused by an
iceberg." With a flourish the farmer declared, " Iceberg, Goldberg, Pittsburg... they are all the same to me.
He was evidently caucasian with his aquiline nose and tanned white skin. He sported a pinstriped pants and
a colorful polo shirt. Somewhat muddied, his shoes resembled those worn by tennis players. His hair was
slightly reddish with big curls all over his big head. Even for a caucasian, he was taller than their normal run.
A camera hung by a strap from his neck. Leisurely, he ambied by the narrow street of the rural town's
commercial district. Peddlers offered him various farm produce and souvenirs for sale. He shook his head to
everyone to signify disinterest. A middle aged farmer stopped to stare at the tourist. In that barrio, a
white-man was a rarity. So to see one was something of a spectacle. The farmer continued to gawk not
knowing the foreigner would take offense. Without warning, the tourist slapped the farmer with great force.
As the tiller of the soil sprawled on the sidewalk, others crowded around out of curiosity. A bystander
assisted the fallen man who now had traces of blood on his lips. The farmer stood up and said in anguish
more than anger, " What did you do that for? I did not do you any wrong. If at all, I was simply looking at
you. Is that an offense where you come from?" The foreigner braced himself just in case the crown ganged
up (pagtulung-tulungan) on him. Then he shouted, " That was for Pearl Harbor!" The farmer wiped the
blood from his lips and replied calmly, "Look , there is a mistake. I am not a Japanese. Maybe I have a slit
eyes. That is because I have a Chinese blood but I am a Filipino." The caucasian answered with some
belligerence " Chinese, Vietnamese, Burmese, Japanese....they're all the same to me." "Who are you
anyway?" asked the farmer. I am Mr. Goldberg," replied the foreigner. The farmer suddenly slapped the
foreigner on the face. :" That is for the Titanic!" :Hey I had nothing to do with the sinking of the Titanic,"
explained the foreigner somewhat disconcerted by the accusation and the assault." That was caused by an
iceberg." With a flourish the farmer declared, " Iceberg, Goldberg, Pittsburg... they are all the same to me.
On Wednesday, May 09, 2012
JUAN M. FLAVIER: THE PARABLE OF THE DEAF AND THE BLIND
MANILA, OCTOBER 1,
2003 (BULLETIN) Juan M. Flavier - THE barrio lad was born completely blind and totally deaf. For as l
long as he could remember. He lived in a world of darkness and silence. Almost like an over-compensation,
he evolved a supersensitive sense of touch. He could tell, as if he had a radar antennae, the presence of
persons or things and exactly where they stood. By sheer memory, he had a mental view of their hut. He
could walk around effortlessly without bumping into anything. He knew there were two narra chairs facing
each other with a small table in between. On the table was a knitted tablecloth on which rested a glass vase
with plastic flowers. To the side was a window throughout which the cool barrio breeze streamed. On one
wall he knew there were shelves which displayed various statuettes and little ceramic pieces. In the corner
was a cabinet (tokador) with a glass door. Past the wall was their bedroom. On one side was the bamboo
stairs with five rungs leading to the dining area and kitchen. Many times, he would wonder about the colored
appearance of the world around him. He imagined what the actual sounds were of the vibrations he felt made
by the people and things inside and outside the hut. One day, the barrio lad knelt and prayed. “My Creator, I
do not mean to complain. But I am just so curious about the sights and sounds which I am not privileged to
experience. I pray for You to please let me see and hear even just for one day.” In a flash, the young man
was stunned by the flood of glaring light and sharp sounds. He marveled at the play of colors outside the
window — the lush trees and the bright blue sky. The voices of people, the barking of dogs, the roar of
tricycles... all pierced his eardrums like never before. Everything seemed exciting and pleasurable. But then
he began to see and hear too much. He was particularly bothered by the measure of unkind words. Of
arguments filled with hate and enmity. Parents berating their wailing children. Women crying in despair. Young
men cursing. He was unsettled by the poverty around the barrio. Many huts were dilapidated and unkempt.
By the wayside were heaps of garbage. He was witness for the first time to the cruelty that men do to fellow
men. He knelt down once more and prayed, “My Creator, thank you for your positive reply to my petition.
But now please give me back my piece of mind in my dark and quiet life. In a world such as this, I prefer to
be deaf and blind.
2003 (BULLETIN) Juan M. Flavier - THE barrio lad was born completely blind and totally deaf. For as l
long as he could remember. He lived in a world of darkness and silence. Almost like an over-compensation,
he evolved a supersensitive sense of touch. He could tell, as if he had a radar antennae, the presence of
persons or things and exactly where they stood. By sheer memory, he had a mental view of their hut. He
could walk around effortlessly without bumping into anything. He knew there were two narra chairs facing
each other with a small table in between. On the table was a knitted tablecloth on which rested a glass vase
with plastic flowers. To the side was a window throughout which the cool barrio breeze streamed. On one
wall he knew there were shelves which displayed various statuettes and little ceramic pieces. In the corner
was a cabinet (tokador) with a glass door. Past the wall was their bedroom. On one side was the bamboo
stairs with five rungs leading to the dining area and kitchen. Many times, he would wonder about the colored
appearance of the world around him. He imagined what the actual sounds were of the vibrations he felt made
by the people and things inside and outside the hut. One day, the barrio lad knelt and prayed. “My Creator, I
do not mean to complain. But I am just so curious about the sights and sounds which I am not privileged to
experience. I pray for You to please let me see and hear even just for one day.” In a flash, the young man
was stunned by the flood of glaring light and sharp sounds. He marveled at the play of colors outside the
window — the lush trees and the bright blue sky. The voices of people, the barking of dogs, the roar of
tricycles... all pierced his eardrums like never before. Everything seemed exciting and pleasurable. But then
he began to see and hear too much. He was particularly bothered by the measure of unkind words. Of
arguments filled with hate and enmity. Parents berating their wailing children. Women crying in despair. Young
men cursing. He was unsettled by the poverty around the barrio. Many huts were dilapidated and unkempt.
By the wayside were heaps of garbage. He was witness for the first time to the cruelty that men do to fellow
men. He knelt down once more and prayed, “My Creator, thank you for your positive reply to my petition.
But now please give me back my piece of mind in my dark and quiet life. In a world such as this, I prefer to
be deaf and blind.
On Wednesday, May 09, 2012
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