Chronicles of Charyl

Well, speaking of moving on, I’m sure that for some of us, the phrase “move on” is such a hard pill to swallow, right?   It’s so easy to say we have to move on, but the actual experience of moving on is not automatic.  There’s the part where you’ll have to go over memories that hurt you.  There’s the part that you have to swallow your pride and admit that it’s over; swallow your pride and accept that you also played a part in that heartache.  There’s the part that you have to cry and cry again because it just hurts so much.  There’s the part that you look down on yourself and drown in self-pity, and crave for someone to affirm that No, you’re not what you think you are.  And there’s the part that you have to repeatedly confess forgiveness…forgiveness for yourself, and forgiveness for the other person.  Can you relate with this?  That’s what happens when people tell you "move on", or when you have to pick yourself up and say, I h...

Alone.     The pink kite flipped right and left, back and forth, as it sailed through that breezy afternoon, above my favorite trees.     Later on, it wouldn’t be seen anymore, because the night is catching up with the sun amazingly fast.   “Hey kite!  What are you doing up there?  You seem to be going nowhere!” I called out to it.   “I don’t know!”  It called back.  “I was just enjoying the strong wind, you see.  My little friend was just happily pulling on my strings, and I’m not sure what happened next!”   “Oh! Your strings are cut!” I shouted back, now sounding alarmed as I noticed the dangles following the kite.  “You’re going to be lost!”   “I know! I know! And I’m afraid!  I have no idea where I’m going!”  The pink kite is not really that near, but somehow, I can sense its voice quivering.  Maybe it’s crying?  Out of fear?...

“Hi! My name is Hetty!”   A fair-skinned beauty sits primly on a small table while mustering all her effort to extend her right arm, as if to receive a handshake.  Her curly white hair which attractively adorned her head lay loose.  She’s wearing striped jumper shorts that matched her plain, white, collared shirt, which supposedly were to attract attention.   But they did not.   “Hi! I’m Hetty!” She called again to a pigtail-haired girl, who was grinning with her two front-teeth missing, and pointing at her while tugging at her mom’s hand.  Well, the mom just dragged her away, unmindful of her fading smile and teary eyes.   “Sigh! I guess I’m going to stay here forever.  Oh! I hope not!”  Hetty sadly bowed her head.  She looked around her, and saw the other stuffed dolls beside her.   “I know I’m better than them!”  She said to herself.  “Look,” talking to ...

I am a colt tied up on a tree.   Many things have tied me up actually. My guilt for risky relationships. My laziness. My lack of faith. My lack of prayer. My ability to put things off. Many to mention. I feel so tied up - useless, fruitless and just waiting for who-knows-what. What I don't know is that outside of my village I've been seen by God-in-the-flesh Himself. He had seen me from afar. He had known my thoughts. He had seen the potentials I don't see. And He's going to untie me from all my inhibitions.  He was going to fetch for me. And He did.  Two of His disciples came for me. They were very intentional. They were very specific. They came for Me.   I was that colt tied to that tree that Jesus wanted for Himself.  I'll slowly take it in.  Jesus...wanted...me! But..how come?  After all that I've been through, He still wanted me - to use me for the fulfillment of a prophecy about Him, the awaited Messiah of the world.  He would enter Je...

(Reflections of a consistent patient) So there I was inside my pink, floral blanket, curled up on my right side, trembling as if in cold though I was burning with high fever, and with the throbbing pain at the inner back portion of my skull as bonus.  I could feel it beating in sync with my pulse.  I thought my temples would burst any minute.  All my joints were also crying in pain, but I felt too weak to massage any of them.  It was Tuesday, past three in the morning, and as soon as I was awakened by that excruciating headache, I was not getting back to sleep.  All my roommates are in their dreamland for sure.  I wished I was at home where I could just cry out “Tay!” with that agonizing voice, and then my father would just scramble to my side and touch my forehead and massage my elbows and knees which “magically” heals us (that’s what I thought as a child).  But I’m no longer at home, and my father has already passed away some three years bac...

Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature.  They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities Which mortals lack or indirectly learn. Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying, Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear, High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal  Huge Principles appear. The Tree-ness of the tree they know - the meaning of Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap; But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance Of sun from shadow where the trees begin, The blessed cool at every pore caressing us -An angel has no skin. They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it Drink the whole summer down into the breast. The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest. The tremor on the rippled pool of memory That from each smell in widening circle goes, ...

The same everlasting Father who cares for you today, Will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering Or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it… Be at peace then, And put aside all anxious thoughts, Put aside all imaginations. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today, Will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Today, be at peace.. Tomorrow, be at peace.. And Every day, be at peace. [From the hymn by Haven of Rest Quartet, as quoted from St. François de Sales ]