Warrior of Love [Update]

I grew up watching Magical School Girl series. They fascinated me, these warriors of love. Gather your friends, they told us, defeat your enemies, and believe in the power of true love. Their three-fold objective might seem overly simple and too optimistic for the grey-shaded age we find ourselves in. But when you strip our lives of the complex details, isn't the underlying core quite simple? At the end of the day, isn't our calling to simply love?

We are created beings of love, fractals of our Creator, who is Love. The fairer sex, they call us. The better half. The Light of the Home. Our mere presence is meant to bring delight. Our actions, warmth. The smiles we bestow come with magic that dispel fear and a bad day. And the love we freely give go with a multiplying effect not unlike bread and fishes at the hands of a messiah, and return to us a hundredfold.

But our hearts are not immune to the darkness of the world. And though we may be strong, our fortresses are not impenetrable. And when the darkness breaks our hearts, the demons with the whispering voices rush in, damning us with their persistent words, dragging us down dark pits we can't climb out of, imprisoning us in locked rooms with doors we cannot find.

That prison is a place our family and friends cannot reach us, no matter how close they physically are to us. We cannot feel their embrace there. In that darkness, we cannot see them. Their voices are drowned out by the persistent whispers that tell us we are too old, and not pretty enough; that scoff at us for wishing for love; that insist we believe that we are unloved because we are unworthy.

The isolation changes us. We develop callouses to dull the persistent blows. We bind ourselves in an effort to hold the shattered pieces together. "You must be strong," our mothers tell us. "This cannot defeat you." And so we trudge on despite our brokenness. We close our eyes in an attempt to forget the pain. We pretend we do not hear the screaming of the child within us as the demons relentlessly take piece by piece the shining fragments of what used to be our hearts. Who needs a heart that is broken anyway?

As the demons succeed in stealing away the joyful silver crystals of our hearts, we develop scales, armors. We grow fangs and forked tongues. We learn to breathe fire. And before we know it, the delightful Princesses of the Stars become the undead Dragons of the Dark Moon. We become strong. But while strength in itself is a good thing, the one we gain is accompanied by the desolate belief that no one will fight for us. We are released from our prison. But a part of us knows that such darkness has no place in creation. And so we find ourselves wandering back to our dreary pits, to our forsaken locked rooms, wishing some hero would someday come to slay our dragons, forgetting that it is we who are the dragons. And it is we who are the warriors of love.

Phenomenal Takeaways

A new friend mentioned an event where she was going to give a talk in. Phenomenal, the talk was called. And she was going to talk about beauty. Not makeup, she said, but beauty. My interest was piqued. Being a woman in a predominantly male industry, and growing up with guy best friends, a little part of me found the thought of spending an afternoon talking with other girls about beauty rather refreshing and appealing. And so on this rainy Saturday afternoon, I went to Fully Booked to check it out. I quite loved it! I know, I know. Why would you want to talk about beauty? Because it's interesting! And, as the day went on, I realized, because we should. Here are a few things I learned and realized about beauty through this event:

Being beautiful is important to a woman. We like to be beautiful. We like to be thought of as beautiful. If you go deeper and ask why, it really boils down to value. We all want to be valued. But it is not other people's job to make us feel beautiful. Our value has to be independent of our circumstances and what others think of us. Our beauty is our own responsibility and business.

Beauty needs to be defined in a more realistic light. If we look at what media says is beautiful, it fails to consider the different body types, age, and life season of a person. It fails to consider natural body changes that occur in people as they grow older. And it increases visual appeal to a level where the other longer-lasting attributes of a person that would also make them attractive (like kindness, a ready ear, and a grateful heart) are de-valued as consolation prizes.

This media-defined beauty is damaging to the men as well. When we present it to everyone that looks are the ultimate value, then a man's ultimate criteria in finding a suitable woman becomes how she looks. And this may mean he ends up with a girl just because she's physically beautiful. While there's nothing wrong with marrying a beautiful girl (I, myself, would like to marry someone handsome), if the basis for the union is merely physical beauty, it might not last very long. This is a generalization, of course, and I know lovely couples who have very successful unions. But I personally know friends whose marriages didn't survive early trials because outside of the physical, there wasn't other connections much. I've seen this with some of my business owner friends. They've arrived financially, therefore, it follows to find a wife society would deem a catch. And in this day and age, that means a girl who looks like a model. Again, nothing wrong with marrying a mestiza with a figure. But if that's all one sees, what will compel the two of you to stay and brave the storms together? Because marriage will have its trials.

My brother knows the number of separated couples in my circle is too high for my taste. And it distresses me. Because I know these guys. They're my friends. They're geeks, good people whose hearts are true and are still longing to believe that love, indeed, conquers all, and that happily ever after actually exists. But now they've been hurt, embarrassed for even wishing. It distresses me because I also want to believe in true love and love that lasts, and the statistics are bothering me.

To redefine beauty, present an alternative. It's not very effective or productive to just talk about beauty as the media presents it, and how one thinks it should be. The best way to redefine beauty is to really embody how one thinks beauty should be, and present and carry it everyday. I think true beauty is being gentle and kind and pleasant. It is to not complain, to be grateful, and to see the world in a way that is good and hopeful. It is to listen attentively, to forgive quickly and not hold records of wrong. It is to encourage, to be of good cheer, and to be an anchor. Given this definition of beauty, I'm probably not that beautiful yet. But this is my challenge to myself: to embody what I believe true beauty to be. And to be beautiful. 

How would you define beauty?

Loving Like Christ

I asked my brother what he thought about how men and women love nowadays. Here was our conversation:

Pat: It is said that we, men, need to love women like Christ loved the church. You were never asked to love us, but we need to love you. Like Christ loved the church.
Me: To the extent that you'd die for us?
Pat: Dying is easy. We have to live for you. But if we love you to that extent, with that kind of devotion, then the command to you, to be obedient to your husbands, should be easy. Because if you trust them that they won't do anything to harm you, then you should have no problem obeying.
Me: You're extreme, brother.
Pat: Oh, don't think of me as perfect. We're all not perfect when it comes to this. But we try. You know, present yourselves as living sacrifices and all that. The only problem with living sacrifices is they tend to wriggle off the sacrificial table every now and then. But we try.

Needs to Address

I had been feeling a little low recently. And I asked my brother to sit down with me and help me determine the path I could take from here. And I was talking about what opportunities were available to me when he stopped me and said, "Not opportunities. Tell me the needs that you see that you'd like to and think you'd be able to address." I'd like to share with you what my answers were.

1. The Lack of an Intentional Role Model. Why is it that when we talk of books or comics or games that are Bible or Christianity based, people find most of them boring. I think if we are to teach the youth, one of the most effective ways of doing it is by giving them a role model they look up to who is what we want them to aspire to be.

2. The Increase in the Lack of Meaningful Interactions. The rise of social media is also giving rise to loneliness, studies say. I think we shouldn't forget that we still need to physically interact with people as most of our language actually comes from nonverbal experiential communication.

3. The Absence of Emotional Education. We teach skills and knowledge. We teach people what to do with their money. But why don't we teach people how to handle emotions. What must a guy do when a girl cries in front of him? How does one break up properly? What should I do when I'm heartbroken and I don't know what to do with myself? Relationships are part of everyday life and breakups have been hurting us for generations. Why aren't we taught how to be superheroes and princesses when that's what our literature wants us to aspire to be?

Those were my answers. What about you? What needs do you see that you'd like to address?

Women's Hearts

Tita Pinky, an elderly lady in our organization, asked if we could bring her to the hospital. Her husband just had a quadruple bypass. I thought it was a bit of a hassle. My sister volunteered me without my having much of a say in it. Grudgingly, I told my sister I'd go back and pick the elderly lady back at our house. When she came aboard, she was very grateful. She said she had come to our house that day hoping to find my mom and help her out with things to try to get her mind off of her husband. She was worried about him. But she really wanted to go to the hospital to check up on him. It's just that none of her children were available that day. She was telling me how miserable she felt, and how she was trying to fight it. I felt bad about being impatient with the elderly lady. What's a ride to the hospital? My people were very capable. They can survive a morning without me. So I told her I'd stay with her until we got to the hospital. I felt bad because I also realized how impatient I was with my own mother, and she didn't deserve this from her children. She deserved honor. And I don't want her to feel miserable and alone.

We got to the hospital after more than an hour. Traffic was bad and we got lost. So, I take her up to her husband's room. And when we entered, he wasn't happy to see her. Tita Pinky told me, "Oh, he's angry." I asked if she was going to be okay and if she had a way to get home. She said she would be fine. So off I went, but I felt even worse than that morning. I felt so sad for this elderly woman, who wanted so much to see her husband because she was worried about him. And him glaring at her for coming. He's not the only husband I've seen who has that cruel streak towards their wives. Most husbands that I meet are not violent or anything. But there still is that cruelty, in the way they unappreciate, put down, refuse to give attention, or criticize their wives.

If I get married, will my husband be cruel to me, too? Are all husbands like that?

Operation: Take Back

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life,and have it to the full. [John 10:10]

I have heard this verse time and time again. But I haven't felt the true impact of this until just recently. I recently met up with some of my friends who were turning 30 this year, and they were all so excited about ticking off things on their list before their birthday. When asked what I did during my thirtieth birthday, my answer was, "I was depressed. I had just broken up with my first boyfriend then." And when I was thirty-one? "... Nothing." I wasn't quite as depressed anymore, but I wasn't exactly in a celebrating mood. Actually, I don't even remember what I did on my thirty-first birthday. My thirty-second birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. What was my plan? "... Nothing." I was going to say I wasn't in a celebrating mood again, but I caught myself. I wasn't like this before thirty.

When I was younger, my siblings always said that I figuratively jumped off the cliff without thinking. I kept starting new projects. They weren't successful half of the time, but that never stopped me. My father always told me to stand up again after a failure. Things excited me. I believed in dreams and true love. But where is that girl now? I find myself scoffing at true love half the time. Ask me about my dreams. I can't give you a heartfelt answer.

What had happened to me? Where was the excitement? Where was the wonder and awe? I felt like they had been stolen from me. I felt that my dreams had been killed. And the worst part of it? I allowed that to happen.

NO! I refuse to leave myself on this path. I may no longer be thirty. But I'm going to take back my life. I had allowed the Thief to steal my joy. But it is time to reclaim what was lost. 

I talked to another friend over breakfast today. She's also turning thirty-two. I asked her what she did on her thirtieth birthday. Same. She was depressed. In her case, her decade-long then-boyfriend had gotten himself married behind her back. And when she was thirty-one? Still depressed. 

I told her what I wanted to do this year, how I wanted to take back my life. She said she wanted to do the same. So I asked her to join me in this endeavor. It was an exciting conversation over pancakes on what aspects we wanted to fix and how long we were planning to execute this. We talked about how the self was a lousy person to do this for. We talked about what we needed to learn. My plan focused on regaining wonder. Hers was more on loving herself again.

So, we'll be meeting in a week or two, maybe over Saturday breakfast again. It's certainly easier (and more fun) to execute a plan with accountability partners (and friends). If you'd like to join us, send me a message.

Now, on to the first item of the Plan to Take Back My Life: Bringing back my smile.

The Ifrit

One of my greatest enemy is a fire demon, the red knight of the Fallen One. He is know by many names: Orge, Thumos, Lyssa. But I know him as Rage. He bears a twisted sneering face. He consumes and burns everything around him like an unstoppable holocaust. And for the most part of my existence, he has been taking residence in my heart. Recently, he has been winning. But it is time to climb out of the pit, pick up my Sword once more and battle this demon.