“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
TS Eliot
In the Borra household, finding common activities that are fun and involve the entire family is akin to finding the Holy Grail, and not in the fun, Monty Python sense. But the Lord is kind and merciful. Every once in a while, despite the hectic schedules that my wife and I keep, and the general level of sustained playfulness that our kids are capable of maintaining, we find ourselves in that special place where all we have to do is be thankful for the opportunity and enjoy our blessings.
Last night, prior to evening prayers, the family enjoyed the adventures of Thomas the Tank Engine before going to bed. I haven't the foggiest what the adventures of Thomas were, but I remember everyone, at one point or the other, rolling around in laughter. My second son Manuel, in particular, is sometimes difficult to please. But when he is happy, the purity of his joy is wonderful to behold. Have a blessed day!
My biggest fears, and conversely my biggest aspirations, concern my kids. Oftentimes, when I was younger, older folk would often begin their observations of my, or my generation's behavior by saying "In my time..." Like most younger folk, I would bristle inwardly about the litany to follow.
Sadly, and only because I do not share, at this moment in time, God's divine irony, I find myself wondering about how my kids will cope with the world that they have inherited from their largely irresponsible forebears. Specifically, I wonder about how my kids will react to the reality of widespread poverty, and spiritual malaise. Will they embrace their civic and Christian duties? Will they develop a healthy respect for individuals regardless of social, economic, and religious differences? Will they serve?
Yesterday, Bishop Chito Sanchez picked the entire family up to visit the orphanage of Jesus Loves the Little Children Foundation. I wanted the kids to come and see what papa does because I realize, despite my obstinacy and pride, that there is very little I can say to them, now or in the future, that will truly help them realize how important it is to love, share, and serve others. They have to see it. They have to experience it. They have to make their own, hopefully informed decisions about how to deal with the world they were born into.
And it's not just about them. Bishop Chito has been operating the orphanage since the late '90s, and the sad reality is that despite all the many technological and medical advances that Man has made in the last century, we still have to find a remedy of something more than cardiovascular: the indifference that has built around the human heart.
Bishop Chito is spearheading a fundraising event, which I am proud to be part of, for this worthy cause later this year. I would like to invite people to participate in this endeavor. There is much that remains to be done, but as these pictures attest, there are smiles to be saved.
It's rare in my vocation to have the opportunity to share the many wonderful experiences I have been blessed with in ministry work. It's even rarer to have the opportunity to share the eternal laughter which accompanies joyful service to a joyful and loving God. Here's a clip from International Week 2009:
My accomplices in the video above were Dr. Benie A. Sy and Roberto F. de Ocampo. They deserve all the credit in the world for refusing to run back down and leave me to be picked apart in my shame. Many thanks!
And since I'm in such a giving mood, here's a video which you may have seen, but definitely deserve to see again. John Hodgman roasts President Barack Obama.
One of my favorite lines from the very entertaining roast:
"Despite his Spockish calm and gangly frame, the president is known to dabble in sports. And not just bowling, but the hard stuff ... basketball."
Many thanks to Henry Abbott for reminding me of the great divide, illustrated in passing above, between actual basketball and NBA Live.
Bobby de Ocampo is a man of many talents. Former Finance Secretary, a laudable accomplishment that can only be adequately captured by successive and excessive capitalization. Debonaire gentleman singer, who manages to shine despite his wardrobe's lack thereof. And most importantly, at least during the time we spent in London, Guide to Gastronomic Delights of the Epicurean Persuasion Extraordinaire!
London's Chinatown is famous for its Oriental cuisine. In fact, many of my friends who claim Chinese ancestry do not hesitate in recommending one restaurant or the other along Shaftesbury or Gerrard streets due to the exceptional quality of the food served. Alas, most of these places are really restaurants that are better experienced with the tender loving wallets of one's parents.
As Mr. de Ocampo had spent some time during his "ill-spent youth" in London as an otherwise gifted, yet itinerant scholar, I wasted no time accepting his invitation to have lunch at his old hangout in Chinatown. I was not disappointed.
The duck was moist and tender, and there were generous amounts of it poured on steaming white rice. Some of the tourists who ate lunch there at the same time as we gleefully attacked the cholesterol laden feast before us asked for sauce, but we didn't even bother. I consider myself something of a roast duck connoisseur, having sampled duck at some of the finest eating places in Asia. Two years ago, I had the pleasure of dining with the Chairman of the Shimao Group in Hongkong. The duck served at this quaint little hole-in-the-wall in London compares favorably with some of the most expensive duck I've been freely extended invitations to sample.
And if my good friends Paulino and Mica are reading this entry, do yourself a favor and hop on the Tube after work today. You won't regret it.
While I'm waiting for the official photos from International Week 2009 to be released, allow me to share some of the wonderful culinary adventures I had while in London.
My first decent meal in London was shared with friends along Brick Lane, an area noted for its exotic cuisine. And while the meal itself suffered in comparison to the outrageous marketing claims plastered on every other curry house along the street, the time spent catching up with friends was worth it. The experience of meandering through the vibrant streetlife of Brick Lane, replete with cultural oddities and some inspired graffiti, was an enjoyable way to end the meal. Many thanks to Paulino and Mica!
Mica played an even bigger role in my next remarkable meal in London, which was at this delightful cafe along Limerston Street called Chelsea Bun.
The weather on that day was absolutely wonderful. Mica commented that it was days like these that reminded her why she loves working in London, and she was right. The sun was out, and city was resplendent in the bright hues of summer. Armed with the security that sunshine affords all men and women who grew up in a tropical country, we took our time perusing the ample selection before settling on the Malibu Omelette and the Chorizo and Goat's Cheese Scramble.
The Malibu Omelette is the very definition of what trust in the Lord's plan entails: it makes absolutely no sense, which is probably why it works. Take four farm fresh eggs, add Scotch salmon, avocados, Mascarpone cheese and cayenne peppers. It shouldn't be good, but it is.
In comparison, the Chorizo and Goat's Cheese Scramble, is a more familiar gathering of old, eccentric friends. The combination chorizo, goat's cheese and cayenne peppers make this omelette at once flavorful, tangy, and just a little bit loopy.
Since as of this writing, the official pictures from Alpha have not been uploaded, expect more gastronomically inclined entries in the near future. After all, one of the most appropriate metaphors for the unity in faith that characterizes all Alpha champions is wonderful, flavorful, uniquely cultivated food. Enjoy!
I really wanted to blog about my Wicked experience, but I'm still not done processing it. And who wants to read a blog entry full of trite insights such as "Wonderful!", "Moving!" and "Heartwarming!", comments that could just as easily be applied, and more appropriately, to my little ballerina princess, Lucia.
Instead, here's something I found trawling the Web. It's just a little weird, but oddly fascinating. Honestly, in a world where artists constantly reinterpret heretofore seminal works on a regular basis, it's fascinating when I encounter something that well and truly surprises me. Ladies and gentlemen, if you do not care for a Finnish, polka-esque version of Bon Jovi's anthem, hurry along to my next post. As for the curious, enjoy!
It's been awhile since I posted anything remotely resembling a travelogue. That being the case, I will resist doing so. The advent of Facebook has more or less nipped the electronic travel journal in the bud for anyone who isn't Our Awesome Planet, which remains the standard for excellence in my neck of the woods. But for those of you who insist, here's a sample of what I could be blogging about later:
As I was gleefully making my way back to my hotel room in Turnham Green, I was reintroduced to one of those true rarities in popular aesthetics: a remake of a popular work that is not only better than the original, but forces one to reinterpret the original through a totally different perspective. Well, if you don't consider some of the better stuff on American Idol.
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce The Mountain Goats, with their version of Ace of Base's The Sign. Enjoy!
After many delays, I'm finally in London. Today, I'm to deliver a short report on the wonder that is the Alpha Course in the Philippines at International Week '09 at Holy Trinity Brompton.
As I hurriedly fine-tune...
No, that won't do. We might as well be completely honest at this point. As I hurriedly try to whip out a presentation from the decaying, wretched, jet-lagged creature that was John-D Borra, I began to realize just how much my life has changed in the last two years. Once, I was a brilliant, slightly self-important, promising academic whose sole ambition was to teach for the rest of his life. Now, I'm a humbled, grateful soul, eager to confront the many different challenges that the Lord, with an obscenely joyful twinkle in His eye, scatters on the path that He has set me on.
It's alternately infuriating and edifying. It's both an opportunity and a colossal folly. It's both sacrifice and grace. But I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Well, maybe for small pieces of the world, such as those wonderful slivers of happiness that call Manila their home. But otherwise, I'm pretty much blessed just dragging what remains of my vibrant, happy self through a chilly London morning.
I just read that there will be a new Hamlet movie featuring Emile Hirsch and Twilight director Catherine Hardwicke.
Interestingly enough, in an informal chat with Paul Dumol yesterday, my friends and I discussed Shakespeare's play in terms of its timeless wisdom and unabashedly Christian roots. While most people would not have considered Hamlet a particularly Christian literary work, through patient reading and careful synthesis, we determined that Hamlet may be considered as such for the following reasons:
In Act 1, scene 5, the Ghost declares, almost surreptitiously given the censors of the time, that he had come from Purgatory.
I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away.
There is the constant reference to the sacraments, as may be read in the same scene with the Ghost:
Cut off even the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel’d, disappointed, unanel’d, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. O horrible! O horrible! most horrible!
As Marty Barrack wrote in his article on Hamlet, ”Reckoning” is an archaic term for the Sacrament of Confession, “anel’d” for the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick and Dying, and “housel’d” for the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist.
Furthermore, we have Claudius' penitential prayer in the 2nd scene, where Hamlet withholds taking his uncle's life in order to effect a more encompassing revenge:
O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought, 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged, To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No!
Finally, there is the overt reference to the Gospel according to St. Matthew (Chapter 10, verses 28 onwards) in act 5:
"...there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come..."
While the above reasons are far from complete, the fact that a bunch of fairly literate, dashingly attractive people such as my friends and I chose to spend a great deal of the little time we have to hang out with one another on Hamlet tells me that perhaps a new Hamlet movie is not just inevitable, but appropriate. We just have to prepare ourselves to discuss, with intelligence, humor and grace, yet another interpretation of a classic work of literature.
After all, as the Bard wrote, "the readiness is all". Enjoy!
"Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live...Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small."
I celebrate life. Do you?
