Mga Imbak na Marka: FridayPost

The animals within us…

A grandfather told his grandson:
“Two animals reside in our hearts: the eagle and the snake.
The eagle represents our dreams, hopes and all the good things while the snake represents all the negative things, even death.”

The grandson asked, “Who will win between the two animals?”

He answered, “It depends which one will you feed everyday.”

I have to say thanks to Clarin, my former student for sending me (as sms) this brief story. Simple yet meaningful…

Happy Friday the 13th everyone!




The Festival of Talents


In the Kingdom of Tralala, King Shinghay decided to hold a grand event for his people where they can showcase the best of what they have and what they can be.

And so everyone was excited to take part except for some, like Argos who complained a lot of the king’s real motive… Anastacia who only help facilitate the festival because she was obliged and had no choice… and Princess Danyar who is her father’s ultimate critique.

The peasants enjoyed the festival for it was a day of jovial rest. The knights and lords competed and had a fair game.  Nobody is afraid to lose the game. Neither anyone cares much if he/she wins.

A day of fun, it was. The fire-eaters and the jogglers amaze the large crowd as the jesters caused them to boisterously laugh ceaselessly.

The poets adorned the lovely day with an array of euphoric verses while some fair ladies dance with their tambourines, accented with yellow ribbons and little flowers freshly plucked .

“How I wish to be in the Kingdom of Tralala”, said Princess Churvaline who was a guest in the event while Lord Pamin, an heir to the Raketines, commented, “there should be a degree of difficulty to what the folks on the flying trapeze are doing… nevertheless, I enjoy the show.”

The festival started well and it ended just perfectly as King Shinghay wanted it to be. Then, with a bright spirit he addresses the crowd, “The festival of talent has ended, tomorrow is another day!”

– fin –

Dragging the old shoes

Worn out and old, the old shoes reminded its user of its sad past...

Once there was a traveler who was touring West Germany a few years after the war. In one of the towns he was visiting, he was invited to spend the night with a certain family. The family consisted of a father, a mother and a 2-year old boy.

The father began to tell the traveler something about the adoption the family especially about the circumstances surrounding the adoption of his youngster whom they had rescued during the war years.

The father said,  “Our boy was just a poor orphan when we first saw him. He was in rags and very dirty, but his shoes were the worst of all. The upper parts were in tatter and the shoes had huge holes in them. When we took him in, we gave him new clothes and threw his old ones away. We decided, however, to keep those battered shoe as a reminder of how bad off he had been when he first came here. I keep them on a shelf, and when the boy complains or become unruly, I merely walk slowly to the shelf, haul the shoes down and remind him of how much we have done for him.”

The traveler saw that the boy looked hurt and ashamed and, in fact, a bit unwanted as this story was told. The traveler did not say anything since he didn’t want to offend his host, but he thought to himself, “what a blessing it is that God does not continually drag our old shoes!”

More inspiring posts here.

Look at Him Straight in the Eye…


Someone has just made an insulting remark at you. What should you do? Insult him in return? No. Do this: First, look the person in the eyes. Say nothing. Just pause. That pause will upset him: he doesn’t know what is coming. Then smile. This upsets him even more. The pause and the smile are your weapons of choice.

Now say something like this very calmly,  “Would you mind repeating what you just said? I want to make sure  I heard it correctly.”

Nine times out of ten this treatment will cause  him to withdraw the insult in shame. Or he will flustered and say, “Oh  skip it, I guess I was a bit hasty.” Often he will apologize. Only very rarely will he repeat what he had said.

No matter what he does, you are in a strong position. You have overcome the insulter without uttering a harsh word. You have out him on the defensive. Now you are strong… and he is weak.

Note: This is a repost from the Gem of Thoughts. Since it’s Friday, and entries for my FridayPost  are meant to inspire you my dear reader, I decided to post this one. TC!

To the braveheart that never was

An individual can always have the option of shielding himself by displaying such a tough persona. But at the end of his show where he acts as an actor, a director and a playwright all wrapped into one larger-than-life stage character, he  finds himself susceptible to pains and frustrations just like everyone else.

In this Friday post, I’m sharing with you a wonderful reflective literary piece. Happy reading.

Please listen to what I’m not saying…

Which mask fits you?

Don’t be fooled by me.

Don’t be fooled by the face I wear.

For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks.

Masks that I’m afraid to take off,

and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that’s second nature of me.

But don’t be fooled, for God’s sake, don’t be fooled.

I gave you the impression that I’m secure,

that all is sunny and unruffled with me,

within as well as without;

that confidence is my name,

and coolness my game;

that the weather’s calm

and I’m in command,

and that I need no one.

But don’t believe me.


My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask.

Beneath lies no smugness, co complacence.

Beneath dwells the real me in confusion,

in fear,

in aloneness.

But I hide this,

I don’t want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness

and my fear of being exposed.

That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,

a nonchalant, sophisticated façade,

to help me pretend,

to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation,

my only salvation.

And I know it.

That is, if it’s followed by acceptance,

and it’s followed by love,

It’s the only thing that can liberate me

from myself,

from my own self-built prison walls,

from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.

It’s the only thing that will assure me of what

I cant assure myself,

that I’m really worth something.

But I don’t tell you this.

I don’t care.

I’m afraid to.

I’m afraid your glance will not be followed

by acceptance and love,

I’m afraid that you’ll think less of me,

that you’ll laugh,

and your laugh will kill me.

I’m afraid that deep down I’m nothing.

that I’m just no good,

and that you’ll see this and reject me.

So I play my game,

my desperate pretending game,

with a façade of assurance without,

and a trembling child within.

And so begins the parade of masks,

And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk,

I tell you everything that’s really nothing,

and nothing of what’s everything,

of what’s crying within me.

So when I’m going through my routine,

don‘t be fooled by what I’m saying.

Please listen carefully

and try to hear what I’m not saying,

What I’d like to be able to say,

What for survival I need to say,

But which I can’t say.

I dislike hiding.


I dislike the superficial game I’m playing,

The superficial, phony game

I’d really like to be genuine

And spontaneous

And me.

But you’ve got to help me.


Youth Encounter Facilitator’s Handbook, Virac  Model, 1993 pages 68 – 70.