Inevitability

I had no preconceived notions about visiting with the punk in Malacañan. After all, I knew him from a different time and a different life, long before now.

But as I sat there waiting for my mind to feel excited about the thing that got almost everyone around me into virtual hysterics, I turned to ask myself what kind of flame it was that ignited this conflagration.

What impelled this person to hear that one plaintive voice amidst the cacophony of tens of millions of sounds. What caught and detained his very own will and forced it to heed that one faint call. What enforced this obedience that makes him try to give what is pleaded for. What fortitude animates him to dash into spears that impede the way. What destiny makes him submit to whose cruelty others could only beg to be mercifully excused.

This is what I suddenly felt I was on a mission to discover when I talked to the man.

And as I waded through the syrupy thickness of the existential certainty that he is, he said:

"I do not need this position at this time of my life."

How, then, can you even begin to know whose need it was that made this man necessary?

How does one recognize necessity?

How do you ignore inevitability?

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