Each life has its reason for being. Such is the premise of the moving book from Mitch Albom’s phenomenal and international best seller "Tuesday’s with Morrie."
The book’s lead character Morrie, is the kind of guy who believes that teaching is eternity; he can never tell when his influence stops. Even on his death bed, he is a great story teller. His stories are simple yet elegant.
Tuesday’s with Morrie is a story that will touch, inspire and move your soul. Albom’s definition of love and passion is reflected on his personal and professional experiences. This is clearly seen in the character of Morrie which clearly elucidates the truth about what is "mystery" for many, love and passion— the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another spiritual growth.
This is one gift that will surely make us aware and understand the nobility of the vocation…teaching.
"One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feeling. A teacher’s warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child". That’s why Mitch has not forgotten how his teacher affected him in one hundred and one ways.
"Pain always has a purpose." Almost three months to this day, my Morrie died. I find these words echo once more in my head. My Morrie passed away due to complications of breast cancer on July 8, 2007 at half past five in the afternoon.
I mourned not only for the loss of a colleague and friend. More than anything, I grieved for missing my chance at talking to her the last days. Not just any life at that— it was the life of someone who occupied a special place in my heart. I treated her not only as an older sister but, someone I could be me. My mind was flooded with so many what-ifs, should-haves and could-haves. I could have told my Morrie that she had taught me passion, patience and the tenacity to withstand defeat and the determination to stand up.
All this time I had kept the sadness to myself. Yes, we shared that much time together. Even when she was diagnosed with the Big C, she would religiously come to school, do her work patiently, and give her time to students who needed her help.She practically moved on despite her illness. What a tough woman!!! She had no qualms over work. Everybody looked up to her because she was a woman of integrity and warmth.
In a fast and changing environment, our values are always challenged. My Morrie exemplified strong servant-leadership coupled with passion and dedication. Her unselfish commitment to her students was remarkable. In times that she was already in pain, she inevitably did her job without complaint. Her untiring and collaborative efforts to help colleagues to further enhance their craft were fantastic. She was a true public servant in the truest sense of the word.
At times, I would see her cocooning and reflecting in the wee hours. I respected that.When she felt my presence, she would always have a ready smile and would start talking about her condition, her loving husband Alex and her wonderful children, Andrew and Carla. At our serious moments, she was not hesitant to talk about her disappointments about a few people and the educational system itself. Thus, she believed that her sentiments would remain in the dark corners. Indeed, she was a gem in the academe. She could have contributed more wonderful things to this rotten system. Her passion was contagious. She was an epitome of a dedicated teacher.
Pain kills. This has built a character in her. my seven years of knowing her had taught me kindness at its most unconditional. Through our friendship, she constantly assured me that despite my imperfections, I am lovable and always, always accepted. My Morrie was my analyst on call, better than all the seminars that I’ve attended, more reliable than the feel-good books at bookstores, more therapeutic than any drug, and lastly more alive than others who just existed. My Morrie is the definitive must-have in life’s survival kit but she’s not here anymore. After attending her wake, I have finally accepted that she has crossed over to another world. My Morrie will forever be in the memory of people she had touched.
I have to accept that in times of crisis, it is empathy that grants people the power to inspire. She accepted her life, 56 wonderful years with grace, dignity and equanimity. She was her quilts—- she generously gave herself unconditionally and created meaning out of the multi-colored pieces of her life. Yes, just like Morrie, the lead character in the book, "Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn’t." "A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band and most of us live somewhere in the middle."
I want to quote Morrie Schwartz, and this I feel my Morrie felt, "All right, it’s just fear, I don’t have to let it control me. I see it for what it is. " And Morrie tells us the same for loneliness; you let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely— but eventually be able to say, "All right, that was my moment with loneliness. I’m not afraid of being lonely, but now I’m going to put that loneliness aside and that there are other emotions in the world, and I’m going to experience them as well."
My Morrie is Lolita Lopez Cabangbang. She is my life’s greatest lesson. Knowing her is a discovery to the real world. I miss you and I know that somewhere in time, we’ll be connected again. You did a great job!!!
The book’s lead character Morrie, is the kind of guy who believes that teaching is eternity; he can never tell when his influence stops. Even on his death bed, he is a great story teller. His stories are simple yet elegant.
Tuesday’s with Morrie is a story that will touch, inspire and move your soul. Albom’s definition of love and passion is reflected on his personal and professional experiences. This is clearly seen in the character of Morrie which clearly elucidates the truth about what is "mystery" for many, love and passion— the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another spiritual growth.
This is one gift that will surely make us aware and understand the nobility of the vocation…teaching.
"One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feeling. A teacher’s warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child". That’s why Mitch has not forgotten how his teacher affected him in one hundred and one ways.
"Pain always has a purpose." Almost three months to this day, my Morrie died. I find these words echo once more in my head. My Morrie passed away due to complications of breast cancer on July 8, 2007 at half past five in the afternoon.
I mourned not only for the loss of a colleague and friend. More than anything, I grieved for missing my chance at talking to her the last days. Not just any life at that— it was the life of someone who occupied a special place in my heart. I treated her not only as an older sister but, someone I could be me. My mind was flooded with so many what-ifs, should-haves and could-haves. I could have told my Morrie that she had taught me passion, patience and the tenacity to withstand defeat and the determination to stand up.
All this time I had kept the sadness to myself. Yes, we shared that much time together. Even when she was diagnosed with the Big C, she would religiously come to school, do her work patiently, and give her time to students who needed her help.She practically moved on despite her illness. What a tough woman!!! She had no qualms over work. Everybody looked up to her because she was a woman of integrity and warmth.
In a fast and changing environment, our values are always challenged. My Morrie exemplified strong servant-leadership coupled with passion and dedication. Her unselfish commitment to her students was remarkable. In times that she was already in pain, she inevitably did her job without complaint. Her untiring and collaborative efforts to help colleagues to further enhance their craft were fantastic. She was a true public servant in the truest sense of the word.
At times, I would see her cocooning and reflecting in the wee hours. I respected that.When she felt my presence, she would always have a ready smile and would start talking about her condition, her loving husband Alex and her wonderful children, Andrew and Carla. At our serious moments, she was not hesitant to talk about her disappointments about a few people and the educational system itself. Thus, she believed that her sentiments would remain in the dark corners. Indeed, she was a gem in the academe. She could have contributed more wonderful things to this rotten system. Her passion was contagious. She was an epitome of a dedicated teacher.
Pain kills. This has built a character in her. my seven years of knowing her had taught me kindness at its most unconditional. Through our friendship, she constantly assured me that despite my imperfections, I am lovable and always, always accepted. My Morrie was my analyst on call, better than all the seminars that I’ve attended, more reliable than the feel-good books at bookstores, more therapeutic than any drug, and lastly more alive than others who just existed. My Morrie is the definitive must-have in life’s survival kit but she’s not here anymore. After attending her wake, I have finally accepted that she has crossed over to another world. My Morrie will forever be in the memory of people she had touched.
I have to accept that in times of crisis, it is empathy that grants people the power to inspire. She accepted her life, 56 wonderful years with grace, dignity and equanimity. She was her quilts—- she generously gave herself unconditionally and created meaning out of the multi-colored pieces of her life. Yes, just like Morrie, the lead character in the book, "Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn’t." "A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band and most of us live somewhere in the middle."
I want to quote Morrie Schwartz, and this I feel my Morrie felt, "All right, it’s just fear, I don’t have to let it control me. I see it for what it is. " And Morrie tells us the same for loneliness; you let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely— but eventually be able to say, "All right, that was my moment with loneliness. I’m not afraid of being lonely, but now I’m going to put that loneliness aside and that there are other emotions in the world, and I’m going to experience them as well."
My Morrie is Lolita Lopez Cabangbang. She is my life’s greatest lesson. Knowing her is a discovery to the real world. I miss you and I know that somewhere in time, we’ll be connected again. You did a great job!!!
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