“Cogito, ergo sum.” - René Descartes
Well, I don’t want this blog to be tagged as if a discourse intended for passing a Philosophy subject; the field is certainly not included in my current CV. But in starting to write my own blog/journal/emotional-stress-outlet (the latter most unlikely; I’m not into ranting-on-a-public-domain thing), I realized that in the 26 years of my existence I never had a concrete idea on what I want to do with my life. You might say that it’s a cliché; a Purpose Driven Life rip-off. I read the book, by the way, and I will admit I’m influenced by it. But the question at hand is not whether the idea of “life’s purpose” is original or plagiarized (actually it has been here for ages). The question is the question itself. A cliché, yes, but has anyone answered it with a firm grip on a sword? An answer anchored on an immovable rock during a tempest? Rick Warren and other authors might have published books on this but for me these are mere guides. Self-help for others. I am still in the dark, nonetheless. One thing’s for sure, I am alive. I exist. I am.
“I think, therefore I am.” So there. The fact that I think, wondering my existence and writing it down now is the proof of my very existence. So what now if I exist? I know 26 years is such a long time and I know there are more ahead (crossing my fingers here). Have I just wasted those years? Is my “What-if” bin being half-full an indication of this? Wasted years? Wasted life? What if. I should have.
One thing I’ve learned as an engineer is that this physical world of ours is bounded by space and time, and that empirical evidences show that this continuum is moving one-way. Well if you want to step up the geek-meter more, one may contend hypothetical warping, but let’s not. Where we are now tells us that we are moving in one direction. No turning back, just regrets. We stumble. We falter, then remorse. But the only thing to do after a fall is to move forward, maybe stagnant for a while, but never try to build a time machine. The funny thing is I give this as advice to friends where my self seems uncertain. You see, I have my own “What-if” bin stashed under my bed. Half-full.
Good thing I finally started this long overdue blog; thanking the almost two-week idle time in the office. After all the browsing, Wikipedia-ing and useless pretending (hey, my boss ought to think I’m working on something) came the realization moment – a moment in one’s life where, like focal point under a magnifying glass, everything tends to be focused into.
Start.
Programs.
Microsoft Word.
And the cursor started to blink in front of me.
I am. The words came to life. The title of my pilot entry on this blog. The only subject in this world that I certainly am an expert of. I am a traveler all this time. A traveler that during some point in his journey stopped, looked at the map and adapted a new bearing. As a kid I always thought myself as a priest, genuflecting on every cross that I see. Then suddenly came the interest in cutting across human anatomy and the love for stethoscope dangling in my neck. Afterwards, why not a priest with stethoscope? But the stage called me and I felt as if it was my own, with all the lights and the applause. With a scholarship grant from Gerry Roxas Foundation waiting after high school graduation I saw myself in politics either as a public servant or one of the brilliant legal minds of the country. Then on a blink, I am now going places rendering my expertise on radio access network. Amusing. Retracing me gives comic relief albeit the regrets that end up banging my head. It’s quite a journey I had. And one thing I realized, my life’s purpose seems to reveal itself after all. Significance. I think I am here to be significant to others. I am here to influence; to make a significant change to them just by sharing my life’s souvenirs. And as a traveler I have with me all the souvenirs I’ve collected. Almost every day of my waking life I ponder on every question that strikes me. These questions seem to be incoherent before but now I think they are all parts of my purpose I long to understand. Anyway I’m still traveling. It’s still a long road for me. Like a Möbius strip, though the path is one-way and one-sided, I know I shall return from where I begin. When that time comes, my purpose shall be fulfilled.
So it’s time to put away that bin under my bed. Those in it are not existing.
I am.
Well, I don’t want this blog to be tagged as if a discourse intended for passing a Philosophy subject; the field is certainly not included in my current CV. But in starting to write my own blog/journal/emotional-stress-outlet (the latter most unlikely; I’m not into ranting-on-a-public-domain thing), I realized that in the 26 years of my existence I never had a concrete idea on what I want to do with my life. You might say that it’s a cliché; a Purpose Driven Life rip-off. I read the book, by the way, and I will admit I’m influenced by it. But the question at hand is not whether the idea of “life’s purpose” is original or plagiarized (actually it has been here for ages). The question is the question itself. A cliché, yes, but has anyone answered it with a firm grip on a sword? An answer anchored on an immovable rock during a tempest? Rick Warren and other authors might have published books on this but for me these are mere guides. Self-help for others. I am still in the dark, nonetheless. One thing’s for sure, I am alive. I exist. I am.
“I think, therefore I am.” So there. The fact that I think, wondering my existence and writing it down now is the proof of my very existence. So what now if I exist? I know 26 years is such a long time and I know there are more ahead (crossing my fingers here). Have I just wasted those years? Is my “What-if” bin being half-full an indication of this? Wasted years? Wasted life? What if. I should have.
One thing I’ve learned as an engineer is that this physical world of ours is bounded by space and time, and that empirical evidences show that this continuum is moving one-way. Well if you want to step up the geek-meter more, one may contend hypothetical warping, but let’s not. Where we are now tells us that we are moving in one direction. No turning back, just regrets. We stumble. We falter, then remorse. But the only thing to do after a fall is to move forward, maybe stagnant for a while, but never try to build a time machine. The funny thing is I give this as advice to friends where my self seems uncertain. You see, I have my own “What-if” bin stashed under my bed. Half-full.
Good thing I finally started this long overdue blog; thanking the almost two-week idle time in the office. After all the browsing, Wikipedia-ing and useless pretending (hey, my boss ought to think I’m working on something) came the realization moment – a moment in one’s life where, like focal point under a magnifying glass, everything tends to be focused into.
Start.
Programs.
Microsoft Word.
And the cursor started to blink in front of me.
I am. The words came to life. The title of my pilot entry on this blog. The only subject in this world that I certainly am an expert of. I am a traveler all this time. A traveler that during some point in his journey stopped, looked at the map and adapted a new bearing. As a kid I always thought myself as a priest, genuflecting on every cross that I see. Then suddenly came the interest in cutting across human anatomy and the love for stethoscope dangling in my neck. Afterwards, why not a priest with stethoscope? But the stage called me and I felt as if it was my own, with all the lights and the applause. With a scholarship grant from Gerry Roxas Foundation waiting after high school graduation I saw myself in politics either as a public servant or one of the brilliant legal minds of the country. Then on a blink, I am now going places rendering my expertise on radio access network. Amusing. Retracing me gives comic relief albeit the regrets that end up banging my head. It’s quite a journey I had. And one thing I realized, my life’s purpose seems to reveal itself after all. Significance. I think I am here to be significant to others. I am here to influence; to make a significant change to them just by sharing my life’s souvenirs. And as a traveler I have with me all the souvenirs I’ve collected. Almost every day of my waking life I ponder on every question that strikes me. These questions seem to be incoherent before but now I think they are all parts of my purpose I long to understand. Anyway I’m still traveling. It’s still a long road for me. Like a Möbius strip, though the path is one-way and one-sided, I know I shall return from where I begin. When that time comes, my purpose shall be fulfilled.
So it’s time to put away that bin under my bed. Those in it are not existing.
I am.
GMT -3 Sao Paulo, Brazil
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