when boredom equates to death

What had been so great about this summer?...

Aside from being bored to death, I realized that jogging is indeed a good exercise, and I got to experience pulling weeds (reeds and relatives of dandelions for that matter) from our lawn's bermuda grass.

Don't get me wrong... I don't wanna pull out weeds for the rest of my life. I got calluses in my hands because the weeds weren't that easy to take out of the damned soil. Take one weed for example. It's smaller than a certain tree's sapling, just a three-leafed tiny stem on the surface, but when I try to pull it out, it won't budge. I hold on tightly... and I pull as hard as I could. Beads of sweat will start to form on my forehead. My breathing gets tight, my stomach muscles crunch (good exercise too!) and my throat tightens too. When I finally pull out the wicked weed, its root which is more than five inches long would appear in front of me. Such a long root for one small weed. I won't even manage to pull out the whole of its length.

Sometimes, the roots that I would unearth would really surprise me. They come out intertwined with the other roots of the weeds in the grass. Sometimes, the main roots of the weeds I pull would come from a different and far spot from where the weed was originally planted.

I must say, pulling out weeds killed my time in the morning and it did amuse me. The intertwining roots, the pretty, green leaves, the moist soil and the wet smell of it... When I get tired, I'd look at the bunch of weeds I managed to pull out. They'd be in great heaps, but when I look at the whole lawn, there would still be lots of patches of weeds left for me to pull out. They never seem to run out.

Then it just hit me... these weeds I try to pull out... they're like my sins. They're like my obsession and addiction to not so important things. They're like senseless reasons and philosophies in life that are planted deep within me. No matter how hard I pull, though they get out of my system, let's say, as often as I pull out the weeds in our lawn, they never totally die because I can never pull out the roots right down to its very tip (or shall I say apex?gosh! I should've really paid more attention to our Botany class way back when I was still taking up Biology). They keep on growing back... again and again.

Self-pity, selfishness, impatience,hatred,envy,greed(paminsan lang pero kahit na, hindi pa rin justifiable),gluttony,laziness,pride, and perhaps infatuation.

They're my weeds that I can't eradicate out of my system.

I look at my callused hands again. Before they became calluses they had been blisters.

I just realized that I am like the grass. I have patches of unwanted weeds growing all over me... and God is my gardener. He tries to pull out my weeds everyday of my life. His hands will probably never run out of blisters. Unlike me, He will never tire of pulling out my weeds just as He proved always that He never ceases to forgive me from my sins. I am humbled that He tends to me that much.

Wow... I am dead serious. It's amazing how enlightenment came over me just because of pulling out weeds from the grass.

SIGH... the real thing is... that him... I mean he... that him which involved a flicker of that, which died (sorry, no details kaya magulo...hehe, let me be!)... I think he's starting to be my weed too. If this goes on I may not know how to pull it out of me. Can weeds be good in some ways?Is there such a thing as a good weed?

I am confused... and really scared.

I need my gardener now. I need Him to help me pull out my weeds. If that weed which is him stays there, then maybe I'll take it as a sign that there might be really something to consider.

Again...what had been so great about this summer?

I learned that I could confuse myself more than anyone could... and it's good in a way because I get to use my brain. It's not so good because I am creating unneccessary stress.

SIGH...times like this... I call it moments of boredom equating to death.