Amy Tan's Faith vs. Fate Dichotomy

Some years ago, a friend who knew I was into writing recommended that I read Amy Tan's memoir, The Opposite of Fate. This year, I finally did in hopes of appeasing my frustrations in writing fiction. I loved how she wrote the memoir that I decided to read The Joy Luck Club, her first book. I liked it, too, that it convinced me to learn chess. I learned that fiction writing did not necessarily mean use of only pure imagination (I suck at that) and one can start as old as I am and still be good at it (Amy Tan began even older!).

But there was one thing about both writings that struck me, and not in the good way: her faith vs. fate dichotomy.

There is this passage in The Joy Luck Club:

My mother believed in God's will for many years. It was as if she had turned on a celestial faucet and goodness kept pouring out. She said it was faith that kept all these good things coming our way, only I thought she said "fate," because she couldn't pronounce the "th" sound in "faith."

And later, I discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow you're in control.

Si Susie Pumasok Sa Pinto, Sa Door Pinto, Sa Door Pinto, Sa Front Door Pinto, Sa Front Door Pinto

Isa yang mnemonic na tinuturo sa pagkabisado ng electron configuration sa chem. Nagulat ako nung narinig ko iyan sa lecturer noong college sa UP noong nag-Chem ako kasi kilala ko kung sino ang gumawa niyan, mga kaklase ko noong third year high school habang chem class: yung kras ko at yung bespren niya.

The Lolo I Never Had

My Lolo at his best.  Jan. 4, 1997
I've always thought he was a handsome, old man, more handsome than in his youth,
and more handsome in his usual scrunched up, weird-smelling clothes. 

This was my lolo, Plaridel, the grandparent with whom I have the most memories. Memories of him consists of afternoon walks around the village with him walking backwards and his sweater worn backwards, or inside-out or both, peeling mangoes with our hands and wiping the stickiness on leaves, throwing macopa flowers at each other, playing in the backyard baha during rainy days, watching him cook rice with firewood under the makeshift shed he made his carpenter build, being spun in his office chair as transport to Quiapo, and feeling grossed out when he put the molted skin of an insect on his navel, saying he was breastfeeding it. 

He was a lawyer, and a queer man. His office and bedroom was a makeshift extension of our house, and looked pretty much like the houses of informal settlers. His files were kept in cut Tide boxes. His drawers had disgusting things no one wanted to touch. His bed smelled of him, the smell of an old person. Under his bed was a small, old hopia box with soil, where he would spit out phlegm. In his bookshelves, he kept a small pack of lemon drops, which I would try to find every now and then. And in one corner, very accessible to children, he kept the rifle he allegedly used in war. The place was dusty, had a weird smell, and was covered in agiw. He let us play there all the time. 

I liked playing with his office supplies-- the inks, the stamps, the staplers, the paper and all that magical paraphernalia that can do all sorts of things. I was allowed to play with his computer when I was, like, in kinder. It was Windows 95 with Solitaire as the only game I remember but couldn't understand, so I messed around with MS-DOS and learned how to use Microsoft Word. He also let us watch his TV whenever we wished, even though we had our own TV in the sala. He let us jump on and mess up his bed. He even let us use his drinking cups to build soil towers and mud cakes. 

We played a lot, but I don't remember talking. I was perhaps too young to talk substantially. He told stories, but only that one time I specifically asked to hear some. I don't even remember what they were about. He was gone by the time I could really talk about stuff.

Some answers to some questions on church, scripture and prayer

Some weeks ago, I made a friend read this article on salvation by John Piper. We had a very interesting conversation about it. He asked me questions I myself have asked a long time ago, but forgot all about. This time, somehow, I knew how to answer them. He thought my answers made sense, so I thought I'd share them here (translated and edited).

1. How do we enjoy the beauty of God/salvation? Can we really choose to enjoy/appreciate the beauty of something?

It's not a voluntary thing, I suppose. Except the part that you want it to happen so you do something about it. We ask it from God through prayer and study of Scripture. Usually, this is the time when the person is invited to church or to small groups because those also help. It is, then, God's work to open our eyes to the beauty through the Holy Spirit. It's akin to falling in love. You can spend so much time with someone until there comes a time when you just suddenly see the person differently. It may take a while, but we are asked to wait.