Professional Documents
Culture Documents
strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote
understanding, and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups and shall further the
activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.”
All the nations of the world want peace and aspire to live in peace. Only bad, irresponsible and
corrupt politicians would like to take their peoples to wars to divert their attention from their
incompetence, corruption, and dictatorship. They forget, or seem to forget, that wars are
destructive and do not solve any problem.
Most people mistakenly believe that the topic of peace and war is for governments and
politicians to deal with. The rest of the population have nothing to do with this topic. Though
there has recently been an increasing awareness among many people that peace is a matter for
every citizen of the world to engage in and promote, there are still large sections of society who
still believe that peace is a political issue rather than a general human issue for everybody. This
includes the field of English language Teaching. In fact, in some countries, your work contract
includes an item that prevents you from engaging in politics including talking about peace and
war in the world! In other countries, you are not allowed, as a civil servant or a teacher, to
engage in any activity the government may deem political; otherwise you will certainly lose your
job. This is why you do not find the topic of peace and war dealt with in English Language
textbooks that are locally-produced. The writers are timid and too scared to talk about such a
global issue. You, therefore, find a lot of praise for the “fictional” great achievements of
governments in all fields and aspects of life, including peace for the world! The writers
themselves are educated and instructed to be superficial in order to save their skin.
On the other side of the coin, we find a completely different picture with many international
English Language Textbooks published by many international publishers. You find the writers
well-educated and fully aware of the importance of peace not only for business and
education but also for life itself to keep going. Besides being attractively designed and well-
written, these international textbooks contain many articles and even whole lesson units dealing
with the topic of peace and war. They do not deal with the topic from the “imperialist” point of
view as some might think or claim, but from a humanitarian angle promoting peace for
everybody including their enemies. So it is really worthwhile for English Language Teachers,
especially in foreign language situations, to look for articles and texts that promote peace and
teach students how to eliminate hate from their hearts and their lives. This is quite possible in
most colleges and universities, especially in the private sector, where the VC and Assistant VC
do not care about anything except filling in their own pockets with money in any way possible,
legal or illegal. Most of them do not care about peace and war.
These “peace” texts can be used for direct teaching in the classroom, for assignments, and for
testing. The following is a very good example of such a text. I have found it very useful for
teaching and testing on a number of occasions.
*“In 1941 my mother took me back to Moscow. There I saw our enemies for the first time. If my
memory is right, nearly 20,000 German prisoners of war were going to be marched through the
streets of Moscow. The pavements were full of onlookers; soldiers and a line of police kept them
off the streets.
The crowds were mostly women — Russian women with hands roughened by hard work, lips
untouched by lipstick and thin hunched shoulders which had borne half the burden of the war.
Every one of them must have had a father or a husband, a brother or a son killed by the Germans.
They gazed with hatred in the direction from which the line of the German soldiers was going to
come.
The generals marched at the head, massive chins stuck out, lips folded proudly. They tried to
show that they still felt superior to their peasant conquerors. ‘They smell of perfume’, someone
in the crowd said with hatred. The women were clenching their fists. The Russian soldiers and
policemen had to work hard to hold them back. All at once something happened to them.
They saw ordinary German soldiers, thin, unshaven, wearing blood-stained bandages, walking
with difficulty or leaning on the shoulders of their comrades; the soldiers walked with their heads
down.
Then I saw an elderly woman in broken-down boots push herself forward and touch a
policeman’s shoulder saying: ‘Let me through’. There must have been something about her that
made him step aside. She went up to the line of the German soldiers, took from inside her coat
something wrapped in a handkerchief and unfolded it. It was a crust of black bread. She pushed
it awkwardly into the pocket of a soldier, so exhausted that he was walking very slowly. And
now suddenly from every side women were running towards the soldiers, pushing into their
hands: bread, cigarettes, whatever they had. The soldiers were no longer enemies.
I am a Juan dela Cruz. I am a fighter by blood and a believer by heart. I live in a free country.
Although I may have a small voice, I have a big dream—a dream to master the art of spear. To
our distinguished members of the board of judges, to my equally competent contenders, to all
our keen visitors, ladies and gentlemen, good morning. To live in a multi-faceted and vast word
of globally competent people is to let a Juandela Cruz abide by the rule of the jungle that is the
In order to survive, Juan must master the art of spear—the spear that will make him invincible,
the spear that will help him emerge as king, the spear that is known today as English
Proficiency. But what is English Proficiency? What does it do to help Juan in this crisis-laden
world? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the skill in using the English language. This will bring Juan
in responding his own hullabaloos and excellence in proving his worth. Furthermore, we might
Let us not shut our eyes to the tragic reality that Juan dela Cruz is left behind, that Juan is
amidst political feuds, religious warfare and illiteracy battle in using the lingua franca, English.
This tragic reality is greatly manifested in the March 2006 Social Weather Survey showing5%
Filipino adults making full use of the English Language; 35% making fair use of the said
language; 27% making partial use of the language; 19% making almost no use of the language
and 14% not being competent in any way when it comes to the said language.
This shows that there had been a huge decline in all aspects of English Proficiency amongthe
ladies and gentlemen, in a recent study by the Call Center Association ofthe Philippines where
cal centers hire less that 5% of 100 Filipino applicants due totheir poor English skills. Moreover,
This thenthrew back the blame to the quality of instruction in schools and had been even
provenwhen it had been said in the 2000 Philippine Human Development Report of the
UnitedNations that would-be-teachers have poor English language skills and scored lowest
inEnglish of all subjects in their licensure exam. Friends, if this decline continues, to what
Let Juan be equipped with the English skill, let his voice be raised to a higher decibel that it
reaches out to others and from there, it will reverberate to constantly remind us that weare the
main instruments in responding to our own struggle and efforts to eradicate allforms of
discrimination. In doing so we must evidently speak our mind but in such a waythat foreign
people may understand us and eventually join us in our battle. From therecomes the edge of
being erudite in the English language. If only we could beat thisEnglish Proficiency crisis, we
could penetrate through foreign conversations and we couldsurvive in the global market.
Though English may be another language, it doesn’t mean that we are depriving Juan of
hisnative tongue but letting him see the purpose of speaking so, as Luis Teodoro , anewspaper
columnist and journalism professor at the University of the Philippines, said,“learning another
language is a specialized and voluntary process. It can’t be forced onpeople who don’t see any
use of it in their daily lives. ” We should not let Juan paddle in the opposite direction when all
other Asian people ridethe Third wave just because of the fear that the wave will engulf him.
Many people mayknow the language but few are great. If Juan will be one of those few, it
would be suchan immense deal of honor and pride. If he would prove his worth, he shall see
himselfinvincible and unconquerable. That even if he is in the middle of the jungle he shall
beready and brave to take on challenges – the mastering of the art of spear. I am a Juan dela
Cruz. I am a fighter by blood and a believer by heart. I live in a freecountry. Although I may have
a small voice, I have a big dream—a dream to master the artof spear. Good morning! Oratorical
I’m proud of my dirty hands. Yes, they are dirty. And they are rough and knobby and calloused.
And I’m proud of the dirt and the knobs and the calluses. I didn’t get them that way by playing
bridge or drinking afternoon tea out of dainty cups, or playing the well-advertised Good
Samaritan at charity balls. I got them that way by working with them, and I’m proud of the work
and the dirt. Why shouldn’t I feel proud of the work they do – these dirty hands of mine? My
hands are the hands of plumbers, of truck drivers and street cleaners; of carpenters; engineers,
They are not pretty hands, they are dirty and knobby and calloused. But they are strong hands,
hands that make so much that the world must have or die. Someday, I think, the world should
go down on its knees and kiss all the dirty hands of the working world, as in the days long past,
armored knights would kiss the hands of ladies fair. I’m proud of my dirty hands. The world has
kissed such hands. The world will always kiss such hands. Men and women put reverent lips to
the hands of Him who held the hammer and the saw and the plane.
His weren’t pretty hands either when they chopped trees, dragged rough lumber, and wielded
carpenter’s tools.
They were workingman’s hands – strong, capable proud hands. And weren’t pretty hands when
the executioners got through them. They were torn right clean through by ugly nails, and the
blood was running from them, and the edges of the wounds were raw and dirty and swollen;
and the joints were crooked and the fingers were horribly bent in a mute appeal for love. They
weren’t pretty hands then, but, Oh God, they were beautiful – those hands of the Savior. I’m
And I’m proud of my hands too, dirty hands, like the hands of my Savior, the Hands of my God!
uncertain future. As such I must prove equal to a two-fold task- the task of meeting my
responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to the future. I sprung from
a hardy race – child of many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the
centuries, the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in
Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried
upon the mighty swell of hope- hope in the free abundance of new land that was to be their
home and their children’s forever. This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore
that their eyes first set upon, every hill and mountain that beckoned to them with a green and
purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake
that promise a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is a hollowed spot to me.
By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this land and
all the appurtenances thereof – the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming
with fish, the forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and timber, the mountains with
their bowels swollen with minerals – the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for
This land I received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until
the world no more. I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes – seed that
flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same
hot blood that sent Lapulapu to battle against the alien foe that drove Diego Silang and
Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor. That seed is immortal.
It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan
when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless
forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gergorio del Pilar at
Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart
of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst fourth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel
L.
Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacanang Palace, in the symbolic
act of possession and racial vindication. The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the
mark of my manhood, the symbol of dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once
buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and
bear fruit again. It is the insigne of my race, and my generation is but a stage in the unending
I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor and
mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came
thundering across the seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an
eager participant in its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that
the East must awake from its centuried sleep, shape of the lethargy that has bound his limbs,
and start moving where destiny awaits. For, I, too, am of he West, and the vigorous peoples of
the West have destroyed forever the peace and quiet that once were ours. I can no longer live,
being apart from those world now trembles to the roar of bomb and cannon shot. For no man
and no nation is an island, but a part of the main, there is no longer any East and West – only
individuals and nations making those momentous choices that are hinges upon which history
resolves. At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand – a forlorn figure in the
For through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me I have seen the light
of the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light of justice and equality and freedom
and my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and
my people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert
or destroy. I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I may prove
worthy of my inheritance?
I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries, and it shall be
compounded of the joyous cries of my Malayan forebears when they first saw the contours of
this land loom before their eyes, of the battle cries that have resounded in every field of
combat from Mactan to Tirad pass, of the voices of my people when they sing: Land of the
Morning,Child of the sun returning…Ne’er shall invaders trample thy sacred shore. Out of the
lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen million people all
Out of the songs of the farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields; out of the sweat
of the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal; out of the silent endurance of stevedores
at the piers and the ominous grumbling of peasants Pampanga; out of the first cries of babies
newly born and the lullabies that mothers sing; out of the crashing of gears and the whine of
turbines in the factories; out of the crunch of ploughs upturning the earth; out of the limitless
patience of teachers in the classrooms and doctors in the clinics; out of the tramp of soldiers
marching, I shall make the pattern of my pledge: “I am a Filipino born of freedom and I shall not
rest until freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance – for myself and my children’s
Life is a Warfare: a warfare between two standards: the Standard of Christ and the Standard of
Satan. It is a warfare older than the world, for it began with the revolt of the angels. It is a
warfare wide as the world; it rages in every nation, every city, in the heart of every man. Satan
desires all men to come under his Standard, and to this end lures them with riches, honors,
power, all that ministers to the lust and pride of man. Christ on the contrary, invites all to fight
under His Standard. But He offers no worldly allurement; only Himself. Only Jesus; only the Son
of Man; born an outcast, raised in poverty, rejected as a teacher, betrayed by His friend,
crucified as a criminal.
And therefore His followers shall not be confounded forever; they are certain of ultimate
victory; against them, the gates of Hell cannot prevail. The powers of darkness shall splinter
before their splendid battalions. Battle-scarred but resplendent, they shall enter into glory with
Christ, their king. Two armies, two Standards, two generals… and to every man there comes the
imperious cry of command: Choose! Christ or Satan? Choose! Sanctity or Sin? Choose! Heaven
or Hell? And in the choice he makes, is summed up the life of every man. I Have a Dream by
Martin Luther King, Jr. Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we
This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who
had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the
long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro
is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the
manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro
lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One
hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds
himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling
condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our
republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence,
they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a
promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as
her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has
given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked “insufficient funds. ” But we
We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this
nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches
of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind
America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to
take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate
valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of
opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate
the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent
will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three
is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and
will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There
will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights.
The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which
leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty
of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of
bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and
discipline. we must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again
and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The
marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust
of all white people, for many of our hite brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today,
have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is
inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the
pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the
devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied? ” we can never be satisfied as long as our
bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and
the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a
We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York
believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be
satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. I am not
unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you
have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for
freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police
brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that
the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will
be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in
spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply
rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out
the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created
equal. ” I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and
the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the
heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I
have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged
by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a
dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the
words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black
boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made
low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the
glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the
faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the
mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling
discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able
to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for
freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. This will be the day when all of God’s
children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty,
of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom
ring. ” And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from
the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New
York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from
the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of
California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom
ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every
state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men
and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing
in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are
free at last! ” Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death by Patrick Henry I have but one lamp by which
my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the
future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the
conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which
gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile
with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your
feet.
Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of
our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our
land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown
ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us
not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last
arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its
purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for
it?
Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of
navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no
other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry has
been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we
have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject?
Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in
vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have
Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be
done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated;
we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its
interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have
been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our
supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot
of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and
If we wish to be free– if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which
we have been so long contending–if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in
which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon
until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained–we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must
fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us! They tell us, sir, that we are
weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it
be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British
guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction?
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging
the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we
are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in
our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as
that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us.
Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the
destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is
not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.
Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire
from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged!
Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable–and let it come! I
repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace,
Peace– but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the
north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field!
Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have?
Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid
it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give
me death! Short Oration about Life, Time and Money – “Time is Money” – Really? “Time is
money” is a very limited point of view in my opinion. So I want to warn you about this. Time is
far more than money for all of us. And exactly this issue will be addressed here. Think this way:
One could gain an almost unlimited amount of money during a lifetime but the time of a
lifetime is at maximum a number beginning with 1 and no more than 3 digits. Am I right?
Examine your precise duration of lifetime. Let’s go a quick exercise to see how precisely finite it
is. I will ask you to write down a number on a piece of paper or just imagine that you do it if you
have not a pen and a paper nearby. Now please write the answer to this question: How many
years will you live? (till what age? ) It is important to really do this because of the power of this
exercise. That is all you have to do – write the first number that occurs in your mind. Short
Oration about Life – Ready? Did you write a number? Now that is interesting. So you know how
many years you will be alive? Yes indeed! On our unconscious level we know that precisely.
Truth is that as we grow up in a given family, environment, surroundings we develop some
strong beliefs about many aspects of our lives. Those beliefs depend upon several factors and
more importantly these will rule over from the shadow of all aspects of our lives inclusive of its
duration. It is very important for each of us to acknowledge all our internal beliefs and to
scatter them from time to time in order to keep them propelling towards our goals. So how
about your life duration? Will it be that much? If you are pleased with it, so be it. But what if
you write another number there, let’s say that you add 10 years to your number. That’s it! You
You could go even to double your number but could not go beyond a certain reasonable
number because of obvious reasons. As I write it is a number beginning with 1 and no more
than 3 digits. That’s it with your time even if it will be now significantly longer than when you
started reading this article. Let’s take an example here and say it is 101 years you want to live.
Now compare this number with the amount of money that you could earn. The Eternal Light
(Oratorical Piece) A Candle is a small thing. But one candle can light one another. And as it gives
its flame to other, see how its own light… increases! You are such as a light. Light is the power
to dispel darkness.
You have this power to move back the darkness in yourself and in others–with the birth of light
created when one mind illuminates another, when one heart kindles another, when one man
strengthens another. And its flame also enlarges within you as you pass on! Throughout the
history, … Children of Darkness have tried to smother this passage of light from man to man.
Throughout the history; Dictators, large and small, have tried- … to darken, … to diminish, …
and to separate men by force! But… always in the end, … they fail! For always somewhere in
the world the Light remains! … ready to burn its brightest where it is dark; … a Light that began
when God created the world! “… Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment… –Psalm
104 And every free people has remained free! … free by resisting those who would extinguish in
men … the Light of Freedom, of Love, and of Truth! To do Our daily part to increase this Light,
We must remember that a candle alone… is a small thing, a man alone… is a small thing, and a
nation alone… is a very small thing. Remembering this… , We must recognize something much
more than our indispensability to others. We must also remember Their indispensability to us.
For how can we hope– either as individuals or nations … to reach our maximum … ’till we help
We all think. And we all communicate. But how do we do it? We do it through words, not just
words but words in a particular language which others understand.
Though it is easy to communicate in our mother tongue; that alone is not enough in today’s
world. We need to consider the fact that people speaking different languages mingle with us
almost on a daily basis. There are people from other states in India as well as a few people from
other countries who have come here to find work or just visit our place. Communicating with all
of them requires a common language.
“Education shall be directed toward the full development of the human personality and
to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall
promote understanding, and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups and
shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace.”
People of the Philippine Republic, Where have been PEACE? And how do you stand for
UNITY?
These are the most plebeian questions that ring a bell in our innermost being.
Amidst the adversity and tribulation our land is facing, PEACE could have been the most
inimitable word unspoken…..the call for UNITY has been a dream unreached.
Gone are days when the universe was enfolding with tranquility and accord, when the
well-being and contentment were the core motive for unity and progress.
Look us at now, see our very self, how do we differ from the savage and brutal
animals? What is our simple edge from them? Apart from living a serene life, we prefer
animosity….hatred over passion, grudges above goodwill, and bitterness rather than
warmth. This is how our perspective has changed, and these changes had corrupted
our sound and moral identity and principle.
Once and for all, let’s behold and contemplate the present scenario of our very region,
notice how the politics is stained with bribery and corruption, mistrust and power
struggle, isn’t this the reason of civil anarchy? Where is peace then?
See the assembly of people who go on strike, those who rise on power to bespeak their
ideals, and those who initiated civic outbreak, social mutiny and rebellion. Can they be
considered the procreator of peace? Never did self-assertion beget peace. Never did
offensive aggression result to unity.
What is the outcry of these terrorist attacks? How did the summons of kidnapping,
murder, rape, gang wars affect our senses as individuals? Shall I need to mention
broken family affairs and relational disputes?
Nevertheless, these social occurrences marked a negative episode in the very flow of
our normal life.
From the gigantic social dispute to family dilemma down to our very own self-conflict
and confusion, each account told a legendary anecdote of the GONE PEACE.
However………let us not conclude our existence with bare misery. Apart from all these
catastrophic circumstances and nationwide peace struggle, there is still the tiny spark of
HOPE and let us kindle it in our own special way. Let our tiny voices utter the call of the
time, let our fainted hearts beat for its urgency and let our very self proudly stand out.
The long anticipated PEACE comes from within. It is rooted and left undiscovered in the
deepest part of our being. All we need is a wakeup call, a touch, a reminder that we are
but sensible, conscious and judicial individuals, that our very reasons and our
commitment marked the identity that we are but normally PEACE SEEKERS.
The time is now and the place is here, let everyone of us do our essential part to
propagate peace. Let us start it with our words, our actions, our passion and
dedication. Let us initiate peace from our self and thus making it be perceived and
multiplied to others……. Then I would say….. PEACE BEGETS UNITY AND UNITY LEADS
TO PROGRESS.
This is the call of the time and this has been my part. Please do yours.