Memento mori

I do not think I am afraid of death. I am afraid of the life of me that will remain, when or if I pass that is, and the legacy I leave and the words spoken of me freely because I am no more. Did I live well? Was my character kind and honest? Did I love and was I loved? Will be a remembered as a sinner or a saint, or even more honorable to me: both?

So there it is: I fear what people think of me more than my own end. I am not necessarily driven to live more or to live greater in order to leave a better legacy. I have lived a good life. I have traveled. I have read. I have learned. I have seen beautiful things. I have seen sorrow and joy. I have asked hard questions. I have loved someone and I have felt love. I have sought to make my world better, although I haven't always succeeded. I have searched for the kingdom of heaven and I thought I had found it.

Perhaps one thing remains, and that is I have not wrestled with God as Jacob. Do I really want that? Do I seek a true cathartic experience with God? Do I fear leaving bruised and worn, having lost all I love as did Job? Do I really fear death, or do I fear the dying before death, or the living after it?

Ryan

Southern Luzon, Philippines

We try to live in such a way that no man may find fault in us

It is my wish to live in such a way that I do not cause offense to anyone, except in situations of blatant immoral injustice, so that no one may blame God for unkindness. That is all I want -- I want to live simply, quietly I don't want to be recognized or famous. I want to do good in the world and be forgotten except by those whom I love and love me. I used to not care about this: I'd try to live my own way ignoring the sensitivities of others. But as I have become more sensitive to others' unkindness, I now recognize my need to be sensitive to the concerns of others.

Ryan

Manila, Philippines

You know what's pretty damn beautiful

Every Christmas when I fly home from the Far East 

I fly over the northern rim of the Pacific Ocean 

Carefully over the curve of the Japanese islands 

Above the Emperor Seamounts into the grasp of the Aleutian Trench

And in those few hours before I begin my descent into Seattle

I am above these pure, white ice floes

Sometimes it's still night when I fly in

And I can see sparse patches of lights

They're either Alaskan villages or lighthouses 

Sometimes the dawn has arrived early and

The beautiful white ice floes stand in contrast to the

Deep blue hue of the cold Pacific

But either way, I find peace in these ice floes

Because down there is silence and a pure innocent cold and

I know there isn't any life for miles and miles

Except for my airplane, flying over, taking me home

Ferguson liturgy

"The same God who hung as Jesus on the cross is the God who lay beside Michael Brown on Canfield Drive."  

Broderick Greer

Home was a dream, one I'd never seen, till you came along

     I just want to go home. At least I think that's what I want. Sometimes I wish I could just keep moving, forever wandering so that I never experience the withdrawal symptoms of leaving and returning home.

     Home is such a subjective concept. What is home? No longer is it a house with mother and father and brother. Home is just safety and stability. I find now that one could be in the remotest tropical village or in the middle of downtown, and one could feel altogether home and lost. Wandering and safe at the same time. 

Ryan

Manila, Philippines