Sting in Manila 2012, memorable and inspiring

Attending a Sting concert was part of my bucket list. After watching my favorite artists like Chicago, Phil Collins, John Mayer, he was the only one left I have yet to see. Yes, there are other artists I also want to watch in the future but he was the ultimate one I really want to see in concert in Manila.

So it’s no surprise then that during his opening number and seeing the undulating crowd echoing the lyrics of his popular songs, I was moved to tears. I was so embarrassed because it was unexpected, first time that happened to me. Dammit. I brushed it away lest other people found me weird. Too late, my husband already noticed it and teased me about it after. Oh, great now I’m like one of those screaming, manic fans crying when they see their idols in front of them. I guess I was just overwhelmed :)

Overwhelmed that despite the abyss-like distance of my General Admission seat to the stage, his voice was as clear as ever, sounding almost exactly like his songs I constantly played on my CD player. It was surreal that he was there playing it live and speaking to the audience. And maybe what moved me more was how  he was able to unwittingly prompt people to move in synchronicity with the beat of his songs and loudly sing its lyrics inside a jampacked coliseum. It’s like watching a cult unfold with the frenzy. Meanwhile, green and red glow lights held by some fans also swayed in the background, heightening the state of adulation that night. Added to that was how the audience collectively screamed in glee hearing only the first chords of their favorite songs, almost drowning Sting out before continuing to sing along with him.

Indeed, this concert was not only good entertainment but a sought-after break for many of us there, a momentary distraction from domestic concerns and office woes on a Sunday evening. I have attended other concerts but this one may be the most effervescent of all. The lighting was also insane, changing colors in almost every song, sometimes with numerous rays of light spotlighting the audience like beams on a spaceship. Most of the crowd there seems to be my age, in their thirties and the rest maybe older and a smattering of those in their twenties.

I was ecstatic to hear Fields of Gold, Desert Rose, Everything She Does is Magic, Wrapped around your Finger and my favorite, Every Breath You Take among others. Then he sang songs that are not familiar to me but still, it was a delight just to hear his voice and the strumming of his guitar. I liked the last song he played, Fragile which he dedicated to the typhoon victims. Even in a large crowd and a big venue, the song retained its melancholy essence. The haunting guitar strings filled the coliseum while the audience softly sang with him.

Whenever I recall the concerts of artists I admire like Phil Collins on his piano singing “One More Night” in a drizzling stadium, or John Mayer singing “Edge of Desire” in a rain-soaked open field and Sting singing “Roxanne” in front of an enthusiastic crowd suffused in red lights, I always remember the awe I had while watching them. I say to myself, now that is what every artist should strive for, move people with their craft, let them peek a part of their soul and give their audience something they can relate to like songs of love, heartbreak and hope. Maybe their being songwriters helped a lot. These artists pen the words for their songs then arrange music for their lyrics. No wonder their songs sound more heartfelt. Just watching them was inspiring. It makes me want to produce work that can move people too.

Going back to Sting. I admire his stamina for mounting this world tour. At 61, he seems tireless and has admirably retained his cool vibe, pulling off his skin tight outfit with his slim rock star physique. And because he loves to collaborate with other musicians as heard in his songs like Desert Rose, he has espoused variety to his music. His long career spanning decades is also astounding. Not many singers can achieve that. After being part of the Police, he has led a fruitful solo career and is now an active environmentalist. Moving his concert venue in Manila due to his principles made me admire him more. It was inconvenient for many but I wouldn't expect him to do it any other way.

Honestly, this concert may be the best one I have attended yet. Maybe the most memorable too. And I'm happy that I was part of the crowd that gave a thunderous reception to this illustrious artist. I'm one of the grateful souls that night who clapped wildly, cheered and sang with the man who has demonstrated that good music will always captivate us whatever age we may be in.

What I like about the Twilight Saga (& thoughts on Breaking Dawn 2)

It would be sad to say goodbye to the final Twilight film without expressing how I feel about the four books written by Stephanie Meyer and the last film, Breaking Dawn Part 2.

I first saw the first Twilight film before I read the book. And when I read it, I was surprised how the film stayed close to the book’s overall feel, how the melancholy descriptions of Bella seamlessly translated into film and how it captured the polished sheen of the modern vampires in a small town backdrop, definitely credit goes to director Catherine Harwicke here. I could indeed imagine Forks, the cold and rainy town described in the book where she showed us to be and Kristen Stewart was indeed Bella, the clumsy, self-conscious high school girl and Edward the aloof high-school vampire. And she showed us how they came to be together together with a mix of suspense, action and heartfelt scenes. The first film made me read the entire saga.

In the first Twilight book, I was initially intrigued by the character of Edward. Eternally young, he had to endure through neverending high school, not a very good experience to many of us. And because he can read minds, he had to listen to the endless chatter of highschoolers in his head everyday. As a twist, he sparkles in the sun, do not sleep and is an avid pianist. Stephanie Meyer took a spin out of the usual vampire cliché of a vampire brooding inside a cavern, not being around people and igniting in the sun. She made this protagonist likeable and contemporary.

Bella, on the other hand was her self-conscious heroine. Many women can relate to this self-consciousness because it's trait that has not really left most of us even we’re past high school. Bella’s insecure thoughts about her looks reflect many of our own and her feelings of unworthiness especially of being loved by someone she thinks is beyond her league has been at one time been true to many of us. Ms. Meyer has indeed struck a nerve here.

But Twilight was not only written in Bella's point of view, Stephanie Meyer also wrote one in Edward's point of view, the unpublished Midnight Sun. I read the excerpts of it leaked on the net and it was good. It was different and dangerous because it was from a vampire’s point of view. It told us about Edward's constant craving for Bella's blood, that it almost drove him crazy and manic. But it was also touching especially when he realizes why he was being protective of her. I wish Ms. Meyer would continue with this book, it looks special.

The second book was New Moon and it was one of the Twilight books I read twice. It was the book when Bella and Edward broke up and some parts were wrenching. Certain scenes still struck to mind in this book like when Bella became self-destructive after Edward left. She became foolhardy, riding on motorcycles and went cliff diving to rebel on Edward’s plea to take care of herself when he’s gone. And looking back, who can’t relate to that, that’s often post-break-up behavior for some, of course a tad extreme. But nonetheless just as real. And excerpts of her stirring thoughts resulting to her decision not to take his friendship to Jacob Black a step further was insightful too, especially her realization that her feelings for him wouldn't compare to the gravity of her feelings for Edward. Simple prose but a lot of meaning. No beating around the bush, just stark, naked feelings exposed to readers without the intricate veil of intellectual or highfalutin words to blur it.

Then there was Eclipse. I love the scene in the chilly mountain inside the tent with the three of them there. When Edward had to bristly endure the sight of Jacob comforting Bella, wrapping her in his arms because his body was warmer than Edward’s cold marble-like skin. And then there’s the conversation between the two men while Bella was sleeping which was funny and heartwarming. The scenes in the book felt more real and I'm glad I read it first before watching the film.

Meanwhile, Breaking Dawn was not my favorite book in the saga. It was not only long but it had too many characters in it. I also didn't appreciate the gory bits when Bella almost died giving birth. Lastly, I also didn't like that the battle never happened after all the preparations they mustered in meeting the Volturi, it was a let-down. Moreover, Breaking Dawn Part 1, the movie was not that exceptional too, it was a little dragging even if this was the movie where Edward and Bella got married.

So it’s a good thing Breaking Dawn the movie part 2 was well worth it, a satisfying ending to this beautiful and exciting love story. Interspersed with the melody of Carter Burwell, it was poignant send-off, a final wave to your favorite Twilight characters. They also made a twist to it, letting us peek if a battle happened. I also love Bella’s transformation here, from a meek lamb to a ferocious and breathtaking predator. Edward’s character also become more endearing as a father protecting his daughter and as a husband momentarily taking a step back as her wife gains power and shines on her own. 

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After all of that, I’m therefore quite dumbfounded by a lot of Twilight haters out there. These days they are more pronounced, giving us the impression that liking Twilight is a taboo, that liking its books and the movies must mean you are a lovesick, mindless person all soaked up in gooey hysteria. I can’t understand that. I mean if men like their Star Wars thingy and their James Bond shtick, why can’t women like their Twilight? I mean to each his own, each franchise offers something to someone others cannot.

And for the critics, well, the bestseller lists and the box-office results beg to differ, maybe it’s not only how crafty your prose are or how cinematic your movie is that matters, maybe it's also how your book or movie conveys a certain emotion that the audience can relate to like love or heartbreak. Because often people want to find their happy endings in books and movies because it is their form of escape, their alternate universe where everything ends well.

So then it’s easy to see why most women love this saga, it's because they can relive the rush of falling in love again in the first book, Twilight, the devastation of heartbreak in New Moon, the dilemma between two men in Eclipse and the realization of that one great love in Breaking Dawn.

To end, I have read other YA (Young Adult) books but so far, none had the same effect to me as this saga. Yes, Twilight reads like juvenile prose but if you take time to read more, it can be engaging. And I won't cringe to say I'll will miss it because I will, I’ll miss reading it while my kid is sleeping and I’ll miss anticipating for the next book. But I’m glad it’s over too because finally I know that Bella and Edward ended up together, they defied the odds and are still together. And flipping the last page, I'll have that smile in my face because I know that they'll always be safe and happy in their own form of forever :)

National Museum Philippines: A visual feast

It’s been years when I last stepped inside National Museum. I think I didn't have a kid yet then, just married. That time, the halls were eerie and poorly lighted. There were hardly any visitors the last time I was there. But now, stepping back here again with my husband and  my kid in tow, I’m glad that it has greatly improved with better lighting and more than a handful of visitors, tourists coming in.

The National Museum has two buildings. The main one holds the famous Spoliarium of Juan Luna along with other paintings. The other one has artifacts from wreck dives and other Filipino memorabilia.

We first went to the building containing some artifacts from the wreck dives. It showcased a lot of old cannons, ceramic plates and jars which can be seen on different wings, dramatically lighted and well-preserved. I’m glad you can take a pictures of these but only without the flash on.

This building also showcased the different clothes worn by Filipinos back then as well as their different tableware. It has a wing that incorporated the Filipino bahay kubo (cube-like native house) in its interiors so walking on the bamboo slats felt like you were walking in an actual bahay kubo.

Then we went to the main building. We parked in front of it along with the other cars. And going inside I was glad to see the restored architecture of the place, the massive pillars in the foyer opulently lighted with chandeliers. All of this greeting you before walking to the main star of the place, the Spoliarium of Juan Luna.

The Spoliarium, the biggest painting in the museum is as always awe-inspiring. Juan Luna must have been very inspired to have made this daunting piece of work. He must have been quite moved by the abuses made to his countrymen during the Spanish rule so much that he had to paint this.

So it's no surprise then that Juan Luna had his own wing in the museum, an appreciation perhaps for his nationalism and a way to showcase  his other scintillating works. And I love it. He’s the closest thing to a Renoir for me, Renoir being one of the French impressionist painter I discovered on the pages of an encyclopedia when I was younger.

But other than the Juan Luna wing, the museum also has other awe-inspiring wings like the one with the white-plaster sculptures. And wow. Sometimes, I have to tell myself that yes, I’m in Manila and not in a museum outside the country. The corporate sponsors have contributed a lot in restoring the different wings in the museum and I’m quite happy that these works of art can be carefully preserved for more generations to see.

I also love the wing with the wooden carvings and sculptures, these being the type of pieces that resonates well to the Filipino’s love for wooden artworks, ones often seen in some houses and churches.

Then there are the paintings of other famous Filipino painters like Amorsolo, Manansala and BenCab beautifully showcased on the newly-painted walls. Its ambiance felt like being in a museum you see in movies, prim and elegant.

One interesting part of the museum is the bones section featuring the bones of a gigantic sperm whale and other animals. It had a more scientific feel to it but just as fascinating as the other sections of the museum. There’s no airconditioning in this area though so maybe bring a fan.

Overall, my return to the National Museum had been a visual feast and quite a joy because I was able to share it with my husband who loves history. Though, I would have enjoyed it better without my kid adamantly tugging me to go outside when he got bored and sticking his face in one of the cannons.

Because the place had a lot of things to offer other than paintings, sculptures and architecture, it also has dioramas and dramatic murals. I would love to visit it again (maybe without the kid) so I can leisurely enjoy the engaging masterpieces and marvelous works of art. Besides, on Sundays its free admission so it’s a great way to spend the weekend.

Riveting Argo

Angry shouts of the demonstrators reverberated inside the US embassy walls while the terrified civilians and embassy officials huddled inside.  The thunderous clamor to bring back the Americans’ harbored fugitive is nonstop. Finally, the irate crowd pushes through the gates, rushing inside the embassy grounds, clambering up the walls and striking at the door.

These are the unnerving opening scenes of Argo. The same scenes Ben Affleck wants you to see and feel, the same ones people inside the US Embassy of Iran must have felt like on that day in 1979. Enough  to make you want to shout “Get out now!” inside the darkened cinema but you can’t. Then finally like someone reads your thought, some of them gets outside through a secret door and hurry to the streets to an unknown fate.  And their ordeal from Iran to their daring escape is what Argo is all about.

I have watched the first two films of Ben Affleck, Gone Baby Gone and The Town. Both films  were good, disturbing, making you ponder. Like Argo did. Though, I didn’t appreciate his cliché of an opening, Affleck’s character waking up in a messy motel room because it reminded me of numerous tortured hero Bruce Willis characters woke up to,  I got past it as Argo progressed. There was more to the film than a brooding CIA man.

There was the hilarious script concocted just for this escape plan peppered with the presence of a sharp-tongued producer who made the movie believable plus the calm demeanor of the white-haired Canadian ambassador played by Victor Garber who is not CIA in this film. Yes, he is no Jack Bristow here J Then we also have the grim-faced men of the CIA and the State Department who you’re tempted to tell off and of course, the realistic portrayal of the talented Middle Eastern actors who I swear made me believe I was watching true scenes in Iran.

The location, the costumes in the movie were commendable. The attention to detail to recreate the 70s and the disturbing scenes on the streets was noteworthy. The backstory of the Shah of Iran at the beginning of the film was also placed well so you know why the Iranians are so damn mad and banging at the gates. The old news clips with US TV anchors in their younger years also brought authenticity in the film making you feel like you were really living in the 70s. Moreover, the grandness of that building in Turkey where Affleck’s character met another intelligence man was also memorable. What a landmark.

Overall, Argo was about the “best bad idea” the CIA had that time, a proof that sometimes what is the most bizarre and outrageous idea can be the most effective. Thinking out of the box in this case helped a lot.  Rounding up this ludicrous plan is the cooperation of Hollywood with the CIA and the generosity of the Canadians, all factors that helped save the life of the embassy people. Moreover, the guts of Mendez, Affleck’s character has also been critical, making the escape possible. His bravery was steadfast and astounding given the dangerous circumstance they were in.

This film has indeed cemented Affleck’s shift to directing. Given Argo’s box-office and critical success, I’m sure we will see more of his films. I’m just amazed how he can direct a film like he’s been at it for ages, his films remind me of those made by Clint Eastwood, crafted with a subtle edge and seared with throbbing dilemmas. And in Argo, he combined it with a riveting tempo, taking you to a heart-thumping ride, pulling your insides in a knot then, and then finally letting you sigh in relief after his characters made it through. Whew! J

Finding Forrester and Midnight in Paris: Inspiring Writer films

It’s one of those days when I struggle with my writing. Yes, it comes and goes. It has its ebbs and flows. And so to take me out of the doldrums, I’m forcing myself to remember writer character in films who had wrestled with their own writing dilemmas. Something to remind me that I’m not alone on this solitary endeavor.

One such film is Finding Forrester starring Sean Connery, a film about an African-American teenager who accidentally came across an old reclusive writer who eventually became his writing mentor.

“Constipated writing”  and “Where are you leading me to? were some of the acerbic comments Connery's character initially dished out on the boy's journal. And I couldn't help but smile and recall almost the same comments I got from a senior writer in a workshop. Comments that led me to bristle inside because really, who wants to be called on one's work, when you have poured your blood and guts into it and someone trips you with its flaws. It’s like someone criticizing your child. But in the end, I appreciated it because sometimes, you need a mentor who can point out the constricted parts of your story and tell you what doesn't work.

Forrester, Sean Connery’s character also noted that an aspiring writer should also be careful who they share their work with because some people have their own prejudices like the teacher/writer in the film who accused the boy of plagiarism. This professor can't seem to come to terms that a young, African-American male from the Bronx can write well. That good writing can also sprout from one of the unlikeliest places he can imagine and not only in schools with the best writing programs. 

Here are some of my favorite quotes in the movie:

"You write your first draft...with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is...to write. Not to think."

"Someone I once knew wrote that we walk away from our dreams afraid that we may fail, or worse yet, afraid we may succeed"

Another film that have also been my writing inspiration is Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. I love the cinematography of the movie, the beauty and splendor of Paris by day and how it looks in the rain at night. Truly, Allen must have been in love with the city because his shots were enigmatic like a smitten guy showcasing his ladylove’s alluring profiles. But Paris does look magical especially when you see the Eiffel Tower’s twinkling lights under the moonlight.

The film is a story of Gil, a writer who travels back to the 1940s in Paris at the stroke of midnight. There he met the almost alcoholic Hemingway and the party animal F.Scott Fitzgerald and his fiery wife Zelda. He also met the solid writer-critic Gloria Stein. Watching the writers' quirks and hearing their quotes were some of the entertaining portions of the film. Below is my favorite part, an excerpt of Gil and Hemingway's banter.

Gil: I would like you to read my novel and get your opinion. 
Hemingway: I hate it. 
Gil: You haven't even read it yet. 
Hemingway: If it's bad, I'll hate it. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer. 

Other great artists were also featured in the film like Picasso and Dali, each with their own brand of temperament and wit. And honestly just the sight of these prolific artists made me realize one thing, good art can outlive its creator. It can go on and on and be appreciated by future generations, its impact withstanding the rigors of time and change and its creators forever immortalized on films such as this. Given that, I want to be immortal too J

Midnight in Paris starred Luke Wilson, he portrayed a writer from Hollywood who wanted to take a shot at writing a novel. He had doubts if he could make it as a novelist one day and not only be stuck churning out scripts for Hollywood. But his fiancée, Rachel McAdams, a practical woman couldn't get it, why he needs to move to Paris to write his novel when they are living cushy lives in the States already. But his surreal experience in the 40s had already changed him, he wanted to give his dream a shot. So he ended his engagement to his cheating girlfriend and decided that he will move to Paris. And one night he ran into the Parisian girl he met in a flea market, the one who loved the city like he does and the one who didn't mind walking in the rain.

Remembering both films have been inspiring. It makes me want to continue learning about this craft. Of pushing myself to be better. It is hard work really but I'd rather be doing this than something else. And when I'm in the doldrums again, I can tell myself that I'm never alone on this journey. There are also others like me, deep in thought, stringing out the most succinct words to get the most fluid of sentences and battering themselves over and over, asking themselves if they edited enough J

My ode to Running inspired by Haruki Murakami’s “What I talk about when I talk about Running”

I’m preparing myself for a 16K run early next year. And I’m also thinking of climbing another mountain or two in the summer. So to inspire myself again, I read Haruki Murakami’s “What I talk about when I talk about Running”. I have read this book before when I just started running, still in my early bout of 5Ks and have not set foot on a mountain. It had been inspiring then so to psyche myself up for a longer and harder endeavor next year, I read it again.

Hopefully, I’ll be more fit when that time comes. Lost some weight and more agile hauling myself up a steep slope and have enough endurance to get down without my husband or a guide assisting me. I also hope to be running the 16K with no walk breaks and cramp free. Tough goals, I know.

This book by Haruki Murakami had been an inspiration to me not only because of the author’s running experience but also because he talked about the role of running on his life as a novelist. As a writer, it was interesting to see what his thoughts were on running because for me, running had been a good distraction to my often needless fretting caused by concerns beyond my control. It had also been my metaphor for life, making me feel that if I can survive a couple of kilometers, I can survive anything.

Running also developed a mental toughness in me that wasn’t there before. I was never athletic, I’m more of a bookworm, I still am and have no sports whatsoever. Now, I run not only to clear my mind but to have a semblance of an exercise routine that includes the outdoors. Last May, I credit it big time for helping me down a 760 MASL mountain, when my heart was beating so fast and scared of cramping my foot in a forested area. Because I almost did get cramps, especially getting down the mountain, I controlled each step and tensed my foot muscle in the process . Without the training of running 10Ks, I’m not sure I could have made it down.

Of course, I’m not saying that I’m a superb runner. I could have a way better personal time but my goal for now is simple, to reach the finish line running, no walk breaks, no throwing in the towel. Of course, one day, I hope to run longer and faster if I have the time to train. But despite my not so stellar running goals, running has become part of my life. It had been my inspiration to finish something at all cost, be it a project or an essay. Like exhorting myself to cross a finish line whether limping from cramps or running like a fast wind, wow, that I haven’t done yet. And of course, to train hard, not to be a proud fool even if I ran a couple of 10Ks already.

Like an excerpt in Murakami’s book:

“For a runner like me, what’s really important is reaching the goal I set myself, under my own power. I give it everything I have, endure what needs enduring, and am able, in my own way, to be satisfied.”

“Most ordinary runners are motivated by an individual goal, more than anything; namely, a time they want to beat. As long as he can beat that time, a runner will feel he’s accomplished what he set out to do…Even if he doesn’t break the time he’d hope for, as long as he has the sense of satisfaction at having done his very best -and possibly made some significant discovery himself in the process -then that in itself is an accomplishment, a positive feeling he can carry over to the next race.”

What also struck me in this Haruki’s memoir is how he credited running in helping him deal with a toxin that supposedly writers battle in the process of writing.

“Basically, I agree with the view that writing novels is an unhealthy work. When we set off to write a novel, when we use writing to create a story, like it or not a kind of toxin that lies deep down in all humanity rises to surface. All writers have to come face-to-face with this toxin and aware of the danger involved, discover a way to deal with it, because otherwise no creative activity in the real sense can take place…”

“To deal with something unhealthy, a person needs to be as healthy as possible. That’s my motto. In other words, an unhealthy soul requires a healthy body…”

“Some writers who in their youth wrote wonderful, beautiful, powerful works find that when they reach a certain age exhaustion suddenly takes over. The term literary burnout is quite apt here…This results, I believe, from their physical energy not being able to overcome the toxin they’re dealing with. The physical vitality that up till now was naturally able to overcome the toxin has passed its peak, and its effectiveness in their immune systems is gradually wearing off. When this happens it’s difficult for a writer to remain intuitively creative… If possible, I’d like to avoid that kind of literary burnout”

I also liked the way he described writing as climbing a mountain. I also feel that way at times, when I have to  struggle at every sentence and grab for each appropriate word until I reach the end of the piece’s summit or conclusion.

“For me, writing a novel is like climbing a steep mountain, struggling up the face of the cliff, reaching the summit after a long and arduous ordeal. You overcome your limitations, or you don’t, one or the other. I always keep that inner image with me as I write.”

And how running like writing is not about impressing people but reaching personal goals.

“In the novelist’s profession, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as winning or losing. Maybe number of copies sold, awards won, and critic’s praise serve as outward standards for accomplishment in literature, but none of them really matter. What’s crucial is whether your writing attains the standards you’ve set for yourself.”

I’m sure I will re-read this book again when I want some inspiration on my writing and running. Hopefully, I can have his tenacity and joy for both. Murakami wrote this book while preparing for the New York Marathon, one of the 24 marathons he had participated in and while training for another triathlon race. An amazing book from an amazing man.

Messenger The Legacy of Mattie J.T. Stepanek and Heartsongs by Jeni Stepanek with Larry Lindner: A message of Peace and Hope

If you can, don’t read this book in public because it may be hard to explain the tears that may unconsciously slide down your cheeks. I read the first chapter inside a restaurant and I have to stop before get into the “ugly” cry as Oprah have said.

Reading the first few sentences about a mother preparing her youngest child’s burial, the toys he wanted put inside his casket and mentioning that she also buried her first three children because of the same illness can leave you reeling. I did. Oh dear, I thought, where are my d** tissues?! Maya Angelou’s foreword also made it difficult to keep back the brimming moisture in my eyes. So I put it down first so I wouldn’t look like I just broke up with someone.

I almost forgot about the book because I left it inside a shopping bag with the other stuff I bought that day. Then just as I was looking for one book I wanted to write about a blog post, I found it again and read it. Then I braced myself for more waterworks.

I knew how it was going to end, I knew it wouldn’t be happy sunshine, balloons and merrymaking and that made me read each chapter, each sentence, each word with intense and sad anticipation. This was a child who had the odds against him. Especially the odds of making it to his teens which was thought to be almost impossible medically. But he reached thirteen almost going on fourteen. All throughout the book, he had numerous close calls but came back until the time he really had to leave.

I saw Mattie Stepanek and his Heartsongs book in Oprah years ago. I cannot forget him because had this impish smile and an uncharacteristic wisdom when he speaks. I didn’t know that his condition was critical. He looked so happy, innocent and playful like a regular kid. And reading about the hardships he had gone through, the neverending hospital check-ups, the trach tubes, the church handouts, the death of his siblings, it was almost impossible to believe that he was not bitter about life and even encouraged others to play after every storm.

Mattie was a vessel that poured himself, fully and unselfishly to others despite his sickness. He valiantly gave himself while battling his own pain and that’s what made his message special. He was an unlikely source. Facing his own mortality at a young age, Mattie still found the beauty of life even with a glimpse of a sunrise. For me, he truly was a messenger.

“I don’t think they understand what it’s like to live your life so fast…my life here won’t last….I get scared about the pain of dying and about what I will miss because I love living so, so, so much….I want to leave so many gifts for people to have when I’m not here anymore.…I want people to remember me someday and say, Oh, yes! Mattie! He was a poet, a peacemaker, and a philosopher who played.”

Honestly, I have never read a book that made me sob from start to finish. I finished it in two sittings, the last one I read until 3 am with my eyes sore from crying. I was surprised at myself because I thought I was a little jaded already. But there I was sitting on the floor in the wee hours of the morning sniffling away. Was it because it was a story of a mother like me telling the journey of his son in this life or was it because Mattie’s message of peace and hope radiated with so much light, it made it hard for me not to sit back, listen and take heart? Maybe both.

Looking back, there were so many parts on this book that stirred me and I found quite memorable. So I hope you can read it in its entirety to appreciate it more. Mattie's poetry was beautiful and his many achievements in his short life were astounding and inspiring. Here are more excerpts from the book:

“Regardless of how you pray, he said, regardless of the name you choose or are raised with to call the “supreme being”, what matters most is using prayerfulness to become a good person, a better person…"

“…he explained, just because someone’s religion might be a different kind of Christianity or did not embrace Jesus as the Savior, in no way did he think that it meant he or she was loved any less by God. Being a good person, he said was what mattered the most.”

“…he was passionate about turning people toward something greater than themselves. To be your best self, he said, you had to recognize consciously that you were part of something that went beyond you. You could not be your best self in isolation because achieving that goal required reaching out to, encouraging and supporting your neighbor to be his best self.”

I love this part.

“It was to Mattie’s mind, a collaboration that required learning about one’s neighbor-his preferences, strengths and needs-and then working with that person to meet everyone’s needs, involving the whole world in the effort. When basic needs are met - food, water, safety, shelter, medical care, education, hope and happiness - peace follows, Mattie said. He was in fact, working to encourage people to leave the best legacy they could possibly could, to recognize their purpose on earth and follow through by understanding that it connects with everyone else’s.”

It’s hard not to get emotional about this book or maybe it’s just me. But whatever it is, I found another hero in this book aside from Mattie. His mother, Jen Stepanek. To have that indomitable spirit, that resolute strength is quite an inspiration. Mattie’s journey wouldn’t be complete without her. She had been his rock, his confidante, his best friend. They cried and laughed together amid all his trials. And in every crisis she steadily stood by him. I pray that I can be half the mother she is.

Right now, she battles with the adult form of Mattie’s disease but she still continues to spread his message. I wish her continuous strength in mind, heart and body. And I thank her for giving us this book and letting us see how special Mattie really was and still is. Thank you, Jen and Mattie. May your message of peace and hope spread as wide and as clear as you hope it to be. (www.mattieonline.com)