Awakened Sentiment

Tuesday that was when this feeling of longing for a best friend is awaken by some unexpected occurrence.

I am a tutor of at least ten different people, not to mention the group tutees I handle. Every time my tutees undergo tutelage under my supervision, I see to it that we have to talk about something that is off the course,  neither to waste their time nor to be sycophantic but to at least give them time to rest from our discussion and comprehend what has been discussed, and to build a rapport with them on a personal basis. This what I believe: an effective teacher is someone who befriends his students. I just want them to be comfortable with me not just with regard to what they have to be tutored at.

One of my tutees reminds me of someone. I have been tutoring this boy from a prestigious school for, I think, about half a year now. He is in his first year of being a high school student. He is not my regular student since he only goes to our Center every time he needs help for a particular subject. I think we have met for ten times already. The last time he went was last Tuesday.

That day was, if I may consider it, is different. I have this regard of that would be our last chance to see each other, and my last time to be his tutor. I may be teaching in a school by next school year, which,in effect, will lessen my time to spend in the center. To console my being, I bought a bag-full of chocolate,and share it with my tutees that day. He was the first. So he has the chance to eat more chocolates than the other.

Moment came, he arrived at the center, seemingly tired and sleepy from the past exams he had earlier that day. I was once a student so I know exactly how it feels when exams and deadlines are constraining the time you have left. He said he doesn't feel like studying that time. We stopped for a while and chat. He shared stories about his school; about the person we know in common; about the pen he is using and his family's US trip; about how he watch films--from what he eats to what he watches; about almost everything, except love life. (I don't know why we have not talked about it yet. Maybe because he is too young for it. I don't know.)

What is weird is that I see my best friend in him--from the outward appearance to his inner being; from the way he tells stories to the way he mimics the characters; from the way he jokes to the way he giggles at it; from the way he smiles to the way he laughs--that day. The fragile bottle where I put loneliness and longing for my best friend was broken and torn into million pieces during our conversation. If I may say it, he has remanded me behind bars of missing him. I don't accuse him of it. It is just that the dying awareness of losing a friend for some uncertain reason suddenly regains its strength to reinstate me of self accusation.

This is not my tutee's fault, it was mine. I should have become stronger than my emotion since the incident ("misunderstanding" with my best friend) happened almost half a year now. Yes, I gained strength to at least forget what happened, and to at least take the thought of having a best friend out of my mind. But it has just happened the strength I gained lost at that very moment.

When we decided to go into business again, I held back my tongue from saying he reminds me of my best friend. At the back of my mind, I say I just missed him and I need to fight this feeling and kick it out of my mind. I won.

We continued with the same routine--study, then chat; eat chocolates and laugh--until the tutelage ended. We said our goodbyes, and reminded each other of our secret not to be retold. He left the center with his mom. He nodded and smiled at me, signalling me he enjoyed our tutelage. In return, I smiled and waved at him.

Later that day, I decided to regain strength to forget about the incident of losing my best friend. I should have not just forget it but take this out of my head for good, this time.
.

A Wanderer's Notes (An Introduction)

DISCLAIMER: Introductions are usually put as the first entry, but I chose to make it the second.

Someone asked me why I consider myself a wanderer when, if someone wanders, he seems to be lost. I answered, that is just a connotation of the word "wander". It never been true that everyone who wanders is lost. Yes, it might be true for some, but not for everyone. I wander because I want to witness the wonders of the Creator. I wander not because I am lost nor I am unsatisfied with what I have now. I wander because there are a lot of things yet to see, and I believe these things will help me to see how wonderful the Creator is!

Wandering is one letter away from wondering. And though they mean differently, they are somehow related to each other. When you wander, you see the wonders. And when you see the wonders, you start to wonder how these wonders were created. And, since you cannot comprehend the wondrous ways these wonders are created, you will just give praises to the marvelous hands of the Creator. This is what I always do. I wander because I want to praise the wonderful Creator.

This site is merely about the wonders of the Creator. I'll try not to write anything of my personal experiences that will not inspire the readers. I want every blog in this site be inspirational, at any point.

I hope you'd enjoy reading. God bless!

Prolonged Agony

Sometime, somehow, you might find yourself in the middle of the darkest night of your life; being left alone, having no one around to help you rise up. Eventually, even the littlest hope you had left you. Sooner than later, the least strength you had was gone. Later than it, you were all alone—alone in the middle of nowhere. All you can do was cry, cry all the tears you had left, cry all the hurts built by the tremendous circumstances that killed your hope. But, even crying did not help you. You knew you needed someone who can really help you. As you look around, there was no one.  The rain poured heavily, then.  You were all alone, experiencing every drop of the furious rain. Soon you thought you were hopeless. Soon you thought you could never pass through this. Soon you thought of killing yourself. However, something hindered you doing so.

            Hopeless you were trying to get out of your situation with every way you might think of. Helpless you were trying to get out of the pit you were drowning into, alone.  Weak you were trying to stand and rise up. However, in every attempt you did, you failed. You were doomed, you thought. You were doomed because of your selfish ambitions. You were doomed because of the mumbles in your mind.

            You wished to see a light—the littlest light that might revive the hope that was fading. A glimpse of the light you were hoping for was enough to restore your weakening spirit. “Just a glimpse…” you thought, “just a glimpse.” However, even the hope of seeing that glimpse was fading. You even did not have the strength to look for it. The rain was still pouring. It poured heavier, then. The raindrops seemed to be like the stones once thrown to you.

             You were condemned. You were condemned because of the incident you never thought would cause you to death. Your filthy deeds led you to condemnation. You thought doing these things were typical. You were wrong. You thought your friends would understand why. You were wrong. They all reviled you; even those who you thought would understand and ease the pain left you amidst of your most humiliating moments. They all despised you. They were all gone. You were all alone.  The rain started to pour down, then.

            All your good deeds were forgotten. All your good works were unable to save you from where you were.  You thought doing this thing and that would suffice your safety. Your own wisdom failed you. Now that you were all alone, you found nothing to do but to weep. Weep until your lost hope revived. But, weeping is of no help. It just added to the vanishing of your strength. You soon regretted all the moments you had wasted doing those filthy things. Soon, you were condemning yourself.

            The night was getting deeper; the rain was pouring heavier. The strength you once had been gone totally. You fell asleep.

            Even in your dream that night, you were condemning yourself. All the regretful moments were haunting you, then. You tried to run from it. Yes, you were running from it. You were running fast, as fast as you could. You run faster that you had to catch your breath. You got tired of running. You stopped, then, and noticed you were running on the same place. In every time you tried to step your foot forward, you were just standing on the very same ground. You were haunted. The bad memories were flashing before your very eyes. You tried to escape from this nightmare, but you always failed. You had no one to call upon. You only had yourself with you. The darkness that covers you became darker. You can no longer see. You cannot even breathe. You were choking.

            You suddenly opened your eyes, catching your breath. You thought you were already dead. You wished to be dead. As you looked around, your eyes captured a light. You thought you were wrong, but as you looked straight toward where the light is coming from, it was becoming brighter. The dead hope inside of you enlivened. You eventually found strength to shout and ask for help. However, you heard no voice. You shouted your lungs out just to call some attention from someone from the light. Your weak body rapidly surrendered from your activity. You lost your consciousness. The rain is still pouring. The night is becoming longer than expected.

            Hours later, when you finally recovered from unconsciousness, you felt someone is carrying you. You were hearing someone saying, “Please come home, my beloved. Come home.” You opened your eyes. You saw nothing but a silhouette of a man in a light—very bright light that can almost blind you. Moments later, the blurred image became clearer. You were recognizing who the silhouette was, then.  You are recognizing it was I. The one who is carrying you and the one who is calling you beloved was I. You, then, hugged me back. You are weeping and repenting. Forgiveness comforts you then.

            I was looking at you from afar. I really wanted to go near you and give you my hand, but you were always letting it go. You said you could pass through this on your own. From afar, as I watched you suffering, my heart was breaking into million pieces. The moment you admitted you could not do it on your own, was the same moment I ran after you. But you always ran from me. You ran because condemnation was choking you to death. You did not realize I never condemn. I only love.

            Now that you are in my arms again—my hands are holding you again—never let it go. I want you to stay, and never go astray again. You know that I love you; I really do, even before you were born. My beloved, let us go back home.