Forgotten

Does anyone want to live forever?
Does anyone want to love without pain?
In the rush to buy all things we've forgotten
Nothing we have is so easily won,
No road is better than the one we're on.
When this life ends, when everything is done,
Can eternal day make brighter the sun?
Glory fades soon after it's begotten
But no loss is lost; lost love is true gain
In memories of our lives together.

Housekeeping

Finally...I have put together all the relevant stuff I've written or thought about during the past year. There are still some holes in my narrative, such as my first impressions of the families living here in KSA, how things went in my Creative Writing classes, preparations for the show... or that span in July and August 2004 when I had to get my head down and learned what I needed to learn for my job.

There is also the matter of confidences shared that I could not possibly let the public know, or updates on family members - for example, after I left home, my sister laid out her stakes and went to Dubai. Of course there were times I had no time to think of other things except work. Certainly if I had time to post I'm not busy at all.

There is still some comfort level I have to attain writing this way and getting the hang of all the other enhancements will take some time, especially posting pictures - not so much of me since I am not at all photogenic, but of other people and events that have made this first year in KSA memorable.

I am not out of the woods yet - still three weeks to go! I got my ticket today and it's confirmed - I will be spending seven extra hours on my layover in Dubai before I board my flight to Manila. Major bummer! If only I could go to Dubai visa-free without flying Emirates, especially on the busy days of the week.

*Sigh* They said you can't have everything, but I certainly tried to on this trip. Still thankful anyway.

Grounded

High-flying, free
Waiting to break out into song
Buoyed by the flush of delight
Like's a lover's long-awaited first kiss

Gliding, swirling
Dewdrops on the freshest flowers
Expectant of self-fulfilling prophecy
A supplicant hoping against all hope

Hanging on a thread
Such is life of one like me
Nourished by hopes
It will all get better
Not wanting to wake up

Otherwise –

Grounded
World-weary, obscure
No pretending in the face of despair
No formulae or words

No mantras –
Humbled, silenced
Treading the world step by step
Mystery is all in the mind

Working Backward...

I've actually had this blog all of one day but I'm organizing my way backward ... digesting all the thoughts I've written down electronically or in my journals.

It's a nice new experience. If I had more time to learn this gig (my training in HTML coding is dated about five years) I'll put in all the bells and whistles. Anyway, for now this format would suffice.

How time flies. Eighteen years ago I was with a bunch of other people who enjoyed the mere sight of four million people crammed into such a tiny space called EDSA. I find Antoine de Saint-Exupery's statements in "A Little Prince" so true. It's strange that humans want so much space when you can cram the whole six plus billion of us into a small amount of space than we occupy all over the Earth. It gives me perspective on how fleeting things can be and that people are much more important than ideas.

But it's like working backward on this blog... one can't perfect the events of the past, one can only move forward. Looking back, though, teaches me that it's all so possible to regain the insight of the times. Still, human beings can be so stubborn. History does not repeat itself, really, it's just that humans learn so slowly.

Will there be another EDSA in store for the Philippines? I do hope so, not because we Filipinos need to throw out our leadership for one more time, only to allow other crooks and the crackpots to seize power, but only because the potential exists for us to want, to need, to act for that change.

Still, one can only work backward for so long. I have said this so many times during those retreats - for every moment that passes, the past becomes bigger and the future becomes smaller. There is no value to looking past or looking forward if one doesn't start doing something NOW.

Stultified

3:19 p.m. Arab Standard Time.

So reads the dial on my computer clock. Three weeks and counting before I go on vacation in the Philippines . . . I’m facing a creativity drain which is threatening all the rest of my normal professional functions.

Is work boring? No. Is life boring? No. I just have this overwhelming feeling that all this – doesn’t matter anymore! Funny, but that it should happen to me these past few days when this was the kind of feeling I had avoided during my entire sojourn in Saudi Arabia.

Let’s see what I can do to get out of this funk. Instead of being aimless in front of my computer, I’ll see if blogging will get me moving. Stay tuned.

Random Thoughts - Valentine's Day

Well, I'd like to say something again...business must be good on Valentine's Day.

Hate to sound particularly KJ, but isn't the point of a loving relationship is keeping the love-light burning on the 364 other days of the year? So what's all the fuss with Valentine's Day?

Paraphrase of Robert Jordan: "Women love to fall in love, but only with the one they really want. Men don't want to think of love, but fall in love with the first woman that ties a string to their hearts." Don't want to blame the women for the hubbub over V-Day, but hey, blame everyone else first, right? (O.k., I'm just kidding, girls. Don't delete me from your lists yet.) OTOH, men have their own salacious reasons for the day, and mostly illicit too, hehe.

Got interrupted midway on this post...proud to say that our group here in KSA did well on our first presentation - a voice recital from eight of our students. Some dancing, some acting, some hosting thrown in, mostly by pre-teeners and teenagers. I was not altogether pleased with the PROCESS of it getting done, but on the whole, it turned out to be a lot better than what I expected.

Hey, it would be great to celebrate Valentine's and have it mean something more than just the CHOREOGRAPHY of love. Maybe, for me, it's because there's no one to share it with, these days. (short pause...)Or maybe not. If that were true, there'd be no reason to love life the other 364 days of the year. And I like life a whole lot more these days even though on some days it can be tough even to smile.

Still, needs must that we observe the rites of love (the romancing and the dancing) for often these are actions that are too often neglected, or in some cases, commercialized and trivialized to an absurd degree. For every rite that makes one day different from other days, and one hour from other hours, there is just another business that goes with it.

I'd like to see more homemade cards that even though they don't come out like Hallmark's, make a bolder statement because of the effort that went into them. I'd like to read bad poetry because it says more of the courage of the person writing and saying them than just hitting the right note with a ready-made CD. I'd like to know more of the patient waiting at the corner just to see a glimpse of the treasured one, and oh, the delight of it!Those are the things that make V-Day really work. It doesn't mean to throw out all that other stuff, but that without the real magic behind them, they're just... BUSINESS.

Trouble is, if everyone just picked up love at every other time, there wouldn't be any fun for business at all during Valentine's Day, and that may be ruinous, wouldn't you say? But such spontaneous gestures for any other day, on the other hand, make for more worthwhile living, methinks.

Have good thoughts of loving, everyone.

Rebirth

For the gift of life, for the gift of love. For my late father, for my mother who waits for my return. For today, which would have been their forty-seventh wedding anniversary.

Once I wrote of birth, waiting to be reborn. For a memory fourteen years past, for a life fourteen years hence that I may be able to look at this time with fondness.

For my family - the one that gave me life, and for those others who shared their lives and gave me inspiration.

Ang Anak Sa Sinapupunan ng Ina
Nagising ako sa kadiliman.
Hindi ko alam kung sino ako, o ano ako.
Basta, ang alam ko, bunga ako ng pagmamahalan.
Nag-ugat ako sa isang handog ng pag-ibig.
Iyon pa lang ang nasasaisip ko, maligaya na ako.
Sino kaya ang nagbigay buhay sa akin?
Ano kaya ang ginagawa nila?
Ano ang kanilang katangiang kahanga-hanga?
Ano ang kanilang pagkukulang?
Handa ko silang mahalin, dahil binuhay nila ako...
Ewan ko ba kung bakit ganito ang naiisip ko.
Kabubuo ko pa lamang, ang dami ko nang tanong.

Ang Ina, Umaasa
Naramdaman ko ang buhay na namutawi sa loob ko.
Batid ko ang anak ko sa aking sinapupunan.
Lalaki ba siya, o babae? Matangkad o pandak?
A, basta, kahit ano pa siya, minamahal ko siya.
Kahit maging pangit pa siya para sa iba.
Sa akin, magandang-maganda siya, o kaya,
Napakaguwapo! Anak ko yata 'yan.
Hindi na bale ang paghihirap, kasama 'yan
Sa kaligayahang matatamo sa pagdadala ng bagong tao,
Bagong buhay dito sa mundong kinagigiliwan...
Sabik na akong halikan at hagkan siya,
Ang anak ko!...Mahal na mahal kita!

Ang Ama, Nagsasaya
Tatay na ako! Nabigyang katuparan ang aking inaasam!
Ang anak ko ang magiging pambato namin,
Ang pagyayabang ng aming pamilya!
Sana lalaki, tagadala ng pangalan, bisig na masasandalan!
Kung babae?...hahangaan ng buong pamayanan!
Hindi na ako makapagpigil, kailangan kong magsaya!
Tatay na ako, naiinitindihan ninyo ba ang ligaya
Ng mag-alaga at magpalaki ng iyong anak,
Ng magbigay-ligaya sa sanggol at sa batang lumalaki,
Ng magkayod at magsikap para sa kanyang kinakailangan?
Handa na akong magtiis para sa iyo, anak,
Mahal kita! Kahit sino ka man, mahal kita...

Ang Kapatid, Hindi Mapakali
Nadagdagan pa kami, biyaya raw ng Diyos.
Naku! Ang dami pang abala ng sanggol na iyan!
Ang dami pang kakulitan at kaguluhan ang bibigay niya!
At higit pa sa lahat, magmumukha pa akong matanda,
Kasi, mas bata siya sa akin....nakakahiya, 'no?
Diyahe pala ang matawag na ate o kuya, at manong o manang.
Pero...masarap sigurong maging bantay sa bata,
Nakakakiliti pa lang isipin na mayroong akong matuturuan,
Na ako ay magiging huwara para sa kanyang mabuting paghubog,
At higit pa sa lahat...mauutusan at mauuto!
Hindi naman, kasama iyan sa pagmamahal, sa kapatiran.
'Tol, kahit kailan, naririto ako para sa iyo.

Ang Ina
Anak ko, anong biyaya ang maibibigay ko sa iyo?
Anong pamanang maihandog na iyong pagyayabang?
Anong pagmamahal na iyong ikalalaki at ipapamahagi?
Anong pag-arugang iyong ilalakip na parang hiyas?
Anong parangal ang ikatataas at ikabubuti mo?

Ang Ama
Anak ko, sapat ba ang aking huwaran para sa iyo?
Ako ba'y nagtataglay ng kabutihang iyong sasaliminin?
Ako ba'y isang bayani sa iyong paninigin?
Ano pa ba dapat ang aking gagawin para sa iyo?

Ang Kapatid
Kapatid, sana hindi lamang tayo magkadugo, ngunit magkaibigan,
Na ang kadalisayan ng pagmamahal ang siyang pangpatingkad
Sa atin...ano pa ang aabutin ko para sa iyo?

Mga Gabay ng Sanggol
Kung hindi sapat ang puso ko sa pagbibigay ng pagmamahal,
Kung hindi sapat ang kamay ko sa pag-alaga,
Kung hindi sapat ang dugo't pawis ko sa pag-aalala,
Iaalay ko ang aking buong sarili...para sa iyo.

Ang Sanggol
Salamat, mga nagmamahal sa akin, salamat sa
Pagmamalasakit ninyo...Ano ang aking pagkatao
Na kayo'y magdulot ng inyong buong pagkatao,
Na kayo'y mag-alay ng inyong pag-ibig...
Sino ba ako? Bakit ako ganito kahalaga?
Ano ba ang aking halaga para sa inyo?
Sana, hindi maglaho ang inyong pangako...
Pero, alam, hindi mangyayari iyon, ibibigay ninyo
Kung ano ang makakaya ninyo...Sana, sana, sana,
Humigit ang handog ko inyo sa pagdaos ng panahon...
Iyan ang aking pangako, sana hindi ako mabigo...

Panahon ko na para maisilang!

I'll Be Seeing You Again...

When I first heard the confirmation that one of my friends had stomach cancer, I was dumbfounded. I had known that he had an operation to address a malignant tumor, but since I moved to KSA I had no idea how bad it was.

So I wrote my friends that our friend, indeed, is losing his fight against stomach cancer. I wrote: Please pray for him that he makes it to another round. It hurts to say it, but if not, please pray for him that his soul will be freed from anger, despair, and regret for the time he has remaining.

I was glad that in the intervening months between the operation and his death my friend accepted his impending mortality and learned how to treasure whatever time he had left. Battista said: "The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're still alive." I'm glad in some small way, he knew that I cared.

At his passing, I was reminded of this story – I don’t remember where I first learned of it – about a man visiting an old lady’s grave. When I read the obituary of our friend –

CARLOS MIGUEL BALUYUT
June 11, 1976 – January 10, 2005

I wouldn’t measure his life by the number of years that he lived. I’d like to focus on the “–” that represented the entirety of his life. Funny that in most cases we are so focused on the beginning and end we never look at the “between.”

I dare not write a testimonial because I fear it will not be the truest and most faithful representation of Miggy. All I can say is that I treasure all the good times, and only wish I could have helped out more during the bad. As in all things I wish I could have been a better person to Miggy while he was still alive. My heart goes out to all of those who had to watch and wait for a dear friend to end his days.

One lesson that his life has taught me is that we can never celebrate life too much. No one can stay the inevitability of death, but only to live life as best as we could.

In the middle of 2004, I heard the news that the wife of one of my close colleagues from the Namfrel days died in a road accident, leaving behind a child who hadn't even celebrated his second birthday. Late last month, my mother's youngest brother died.

I have no personal connection with the victims of the recent calamities (especially the ones closer to home who were overshadowed by the Indian Ocean tsunami), but I empathize with the members of the affected communities as they get through the trauma such a tragedy has wrought on their lives.

Life is precious. But even more precious are those moments we share with those whom we love, and those moments of clarity where we fully realize the hand of God in our lives.

I’ll say no more before my sorrow swallows me up in front of my desk.

To all who were honored to be called friends by Miggy, be true and love one another always.

Miggy, I'll be seeing you again, someday.

What we do today, right now, will have an accumulated effect on all our tomorrows. - Alexandra Stoddard -

Having a little faith...

Adapted from my e-mail...

Happy New Year!

Now how am I going to make a few resolutions for this year?

As I write, I am down to three months and 17 days, or if one prefers to be exact, 76 days before my contract ends and I will be due for a vacation. Some of my Indian colleagues transpose their v's and w's and their f's and v's. In the first case, "visa" becomes "wisa," while in the second, I'd rather not quote how they pronounce "vacation."

Resolutions, resolutions, let's pull out a few ones out of the hat from years gone by:

2001: Hold on to a job, at least longer than one year.

Status: Achieved, though only in 2003. I'm fighting for the "inches" of my career, in the words of Tony D (played by Al Pacino) in "Any Given Sunday." So far, doing okay.

2002: Never be held hostage by the opinions of others.

Status: It worked a great deal in '02 and '03, but here in KSA I'm on a different operating system so the jury's still out.

2003: Get something meaningful done in my job.

Status: I FAILED! Which led to...

2004: Dust off the cobwebs on my career and do something more challenging and more importantly, more financially rewarding.

Status: Am now finishing my first OFW contract, which I never dreamed of doing. Ever. But now that I'm here, it's a mixed bag of good and bad. Mostly good.

So what does 2005 bring? It is said that the absence of one thing draws more acute attention to it. What I don't have here:

a) Constant presence of family
b) The nourishment from a spiritual community (technically I could get some, but I don't want to switch religions just yet, or to belong to an organized group over here)
c) A steady relationship which would lead to a commitment. Of course, the side benefits that go with it. Or not.
d) Alcohol (NOT!)

2004 has been a really rough year on the world. I'm not about to go "millennial" and say this is the time of the "rapture" (as wonderfully advertised by Wilde E. Almeda, hehe), but there are signs that for life to be more meaningful, we have to go back to what is important. PDA's, new cars and such trappings one may not have, but one may derive joy and contentment from what one does, or with those that one loves.

I'd like to say 2005 would be a great year to build up on my faith life. Whether this would bring me to other things, I don't really know. But that sense of wonder, that strength of conviction, I'm sure, would give me a more solid anchor in these challenging times. I trust it will do the same for you, too.

Have a great 2005 everyone!

"When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly." - Barbara J. Winter -

New Year - Facing Adversity

"Authorities across the region are running out of places to put the dead -- lining them up in schools and stacking them in the street ..."

Watching the images of the aftermath of the Indian ocean tsumani unfold on my TV set doesn't give me a lot of confidence that New Year would be great. On the one hand, I could say, "The quake didn't happen to me." On the other, how could I say it can't affect me at all?

I am all the more thankful that for whatever dire straits I think my life has fallen into, I am still on my feet ready to face another day. I may be down and out, broke, depressed, lonely, or what-have-you, but I have life, and that means something. I have still the chance to do something good that matters in someone else's life.

I don't think I could say there is a just God. Not today. But I'd like to believe there's a reason we can find someplace. There's a reason to be happy, and that is I live and exist to give happiness to others, as much as I can, when I can.

Happy New Year!

"There are two ways of spreading light - to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." - Edith Wharton

First Christmas, KSA-style

Our organization had its Christmas party last Friday. I was in the middle of the program when my eldest sister called, which was funny to me because I was at the podium at the time. I didn't want to host but then again, I was the only guy funny enough and hip enough (and stupid enough, to boot), I suppose, to do it. Thank God I didn’t have to do a Santa Claus. We had something like 70+ (maybe 100) people arriving. Lots of games, song numbers, and a bunch of idiots (nice idiots) lined up to join “You’re Da Man” that we channeled from MTB Ang Saya Saya! Needless to say, it was a rousing success.

For the Christmas reunion for the clan, the responsibility passed on to our family. The last time we hosted the gig was in 1997 and while it wasn't the best of parties, it was well-remembered. Needless to say, I was involved in it (Oh, don't you worry about modesty. I don't have any of it.)

I suggested that the family do something of an SCQ-TV Idol sort of thing for the children. I also sent them questions for a “Game Ka Na Ba?” simulation. I had plans to use this during our Christmas party but we did not have enough time.

Favorite song this week: “Que Sera Sera” by Doris Day. I watched Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Man Who Knew Too Much” with Jimmy Stewart and Ms. Day and the song was prominently featured in the movie, one of Hitchcock’s better ones (shame I couldn’t get a copy of “Psycho”). It’s really dumb singing: “When I was a little boy/I asked my mother/what will I be?/Will I be handsome?/Will I be rich?/Here’s what she said to me” in the morning.

I hope the folks would find a good place for the reunion. The traditional place - the Teachers' Association assembly hall beside our house - is ghastly.

If I had Christmas gifts back from home, I would wish for an MP3 collection of the Beatles’ albums. If not the bootleg CDs of the albums or their Anthology series should be selling in Quiapo. Tough luck for any of that stuff to pass through Saudi customs and immigration. But I can dream of my old tapes of Green Day, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, and Guns and Roses, can't I?

On the other hand, I could go domestic and ask for a sewing kit to darn my clothes. (Damn, that washing machine is EVIL! A necessary one, anyway.) The weather has moved to the level of Tagaytay/Baguio-type cold, but not enough for me to want to wear a jacket yet. At least on a regular basis. I like the cold, anyway. It reminds me to wrap myself in a jacket and pretend I am hugging someone I love from back home.

Volunteerism

“The world may not always understand a person’s profession of faith but it can understand service.”

My thanks to Nicky Templo-Perez who gave me this apt greeting on World Volunteers’ Day, today… and to all the people who keep that torch of volunteerism bright, here’s a cup of the best Turkish coffee for you. And for those who have tried the real-deal Turkish coffee, you know what I mean that it’s a real pick-me-up on a slow day. Assuming you like it, of course.

There’s this grade-A mush (moosh) line in Pearl Harbor that goes “There’s nothing greater than a heart of a volunteer” (or something like that) mentioned by Alec Baldwin, but somehow to this day it still rings true.

Somewhere out there people are still doing their thing, volunteering whatever they can give, and here’s my note of thanks for them.

I somehow got untracked with my regular routine since I moved to a bigger apartment in the center of town last weekend. Don’t have a TFC connection yet (has its advantages and disadvantages), my refrigerator and kitchen utensils are not properly set-up and I have lost a lot of inclination to do my own cooking since all the good eating places are just a stroll away. When there’s a gaping hole left in my wallet I’ll probably start. At least I have my own bathroom but …. (go on to the next paragraph if you feel you’re not close enough to me, hehe) ….the toilet is in the Eastern style, so doing number two means having to squat. This is not so bad since one would really want to get out of the bathroom quickly as temperatures run into the friendly teens (Celsius) for the better part of the day.

Christmas here means a whole lot more to the kids and to those who have kids. I really cannot relate for the most part since I’ve stopped thinking about Christmas as a season a long time ago, starting from the time I started paying my own bills (a solid thirteen or so years running), and going without a steady relationship (except for SHARE, bless her) for about 80% of that time. I do reflect a lot on the whole meaning of Christmas these days, and try to get whatever spiritual nourishment I can get from meditation, prayer, singing a few hymns and occasional reading of contraband Bibles. On the last matter, such items normally belong to those who are either Born-Again or are part of avidly Christian groups with whom I have personal or ideological differences. It’s nice to have faith on a daily basis but some people can get to be a drag. Moving to an additional level of acceptance is not as easy as it was ten years ago, alas.

Classes in my literary writing clinic are winding down for the season since most families in our group are spending the Christmas holidays back home. Maybe if I stay here long enough I will probably find the opportunity to go home during December. I try to focus on the here-and-now as it is difficult to think about the might-have-beens back home and all the difficulties many of our countrymen are experiencing. We are organizing our own fund-raising efforts here for the families and communities ravaged by the succession of storms, but a number of us were affected. My boss, for instance, lost some P1M in investments on his farm in Mindoro following typhoon Unding.

I’m glad that for the most part everyone in my family is okay, though I do hear reports that one of my uncles is in failing health. While we are not on great terms, I sent my best wishes to him and pray for him as much as I can.

Eid Mubarak and Remembrance

Eid Mubarak!

Ramadan has officially ended. More or less we will be back in a normal groove for our schedule. Muslims all over are practically celebrating – legally there is no work but I go to work anyway – no one wants to be trapped “not celebrating” or making like a vegetable in front of the TV set.

For non-Muslims, the best analogue to Ramadan is like rolling Lent and Christmas all into one. While I’m not to criticize somebody else’s religion if it works for them, I just find it funny that instead of losing weight and reflecting on the words of the Prophet during this time, people actually eat more and end up being more vacant-eyed during the day.

As for me, eating in secret (especially if one finds great leftovers in the fridge) has always been a thing to do even during my days back home, so nothing is different. Hehe, but I do hate having to eat big meals instead of small snacks. It was difficult doing it during the entire month, but now I can munch as much as I want on my desk.

The days of remembering have just gone by. I said a prayer for the dearly departed before I went to bed and got to reflect on some life lessons.

Life does pass us by, and there’s rarely a relationship where there is finality – there’s always something you want to say that is left unsaid, there’s something you wish to do for that person, or to do together with that person, that remains undone. Obviously there’s nothing more to be done but to appreciate each moment – because just as that familiar letter-writing activity goes, saying “I love you” can never be done too many times. And ironically, we yearn to say these words when it’s already too late.

Hindsight is the most common form of wisdom. At the same time, I always remember that line from “The Matrix” which has been very instructive: “Knowing the path is different from walking the path.” You can add “Being the One is like being in love – you just know it, balls to bones.”

So now, back to life and living. There are days when I miss my father terribly, but since he is gone the only thing I wish to do is that I could do the same for my future family all the good that my father has made it possible for our family. I pray that I will be true to this promise. As to the bad… well, I wouldn’t have known the good if not for the bad.

The Burden of Memory

A remembrance for my father, dead these past eleven years.

Plea (Song for my Father)

I break the silence of my heart to cry.
I crave for the truth even as I lie.
Understanding that words are never enough
To express the warmth of dreams, the stuff
That allows visions to live and be true.
Oh, for the life that belonged to you!

Is it inevitability that laid first claim,
For no heralds call out to shout your name?
Or has weak human flesh denied us our fate,
For unearned wisdom that arrived too late?
Time has come for the toll of your bell . . .
When my memories fail what more can I tell?

In peace or oblivion goodbyes are so trite
However I wish, or will with all of my might
Even as I gasp out the very life of my breath
My love will never match the power of death.

Walking Down Old Paths

I opened up some of my old work and this poem struck me for its length - it was meant to be a closed-eye experience, called "autogenics" in our seminar-jargon so long ago. Fourteen years ago have not stained the freshness of the thoughts. I would tend to hate the construction, but what do I know? Dedicated to SHARE Batch 10, November 1991. Many thanks, Gina V!

Journeying Within The Self

The First Voice
I am the voice of your inner shadow.
Let your world escape from your mind.
Let the shadows be the expression of your being.
For in this shadow without your world's glitter,
The wholeness of your being takes shape.
For in this darkness nothing else would give light
But the beauty of your person...

Let it come forward! Let your self find its voice,
Among the din of wayward melodies
Which you call upon for your guidance.
Drop the pale figure of your everyday masks
For here they are nothing but ghosts
Insubstantial forms, nothing more
Like the shadows which encase your being...

The Second Voice
We wear these masks to protect ourselves
To hold off everybody we meet,
For they savor the glamor of the creation
And not the simplicity of that
Which comes from the heart.

We seek to protect that image
We carefully contrive for ourselves
So that we can keep what we can
To satisfy our petty whims and egos.
For this is our only safety,
To be secure in what we believe in.

But stop! For the shadows catch up
To tear away at your wrappings
And reveal all your confusions,
And wounds, and scars, and fears...
Which you try to overcome
By running away...but you cannot.

The Third Voice
You don't wish to recall
The time you felt so hurt, so empty,
So much draped in your loneliness.
You are alone here in this darkness,
With only your conscience for company...
Do you remember how does it feel to be alone?
How does it feel to see
All your dreams shattered,
All your aspirations dashed to pieces?
How does it feel to be imprisoned
By your own masks and lies?
Your empty shell breathes its hollowness,
And the silence becomes deafening...

You cannot run away from truth,
But you can start facing yourself...
For in this shadow comes your light
And it speaks to you, saying ---

The First Voice, softly
I am the beauty which is barely heard
Like some sweet melody
Which visits your ears in that moment
When you are at peace with yourself.

I am the inspiration which opens
Your mind to scale greater heights
And break down barriers
To reach your goal.

Come, reach for me...
Journey within that being you call
YOURSELF...
And find me there, waiting.

The Second Voice, imploring
Don't be afraid of pain
For in pain comes happiness.
But for loss, we will never understand gain.
But for smallness, we will never see immensity.
But for limitations, we will never grasp forever.
But for selfishness, we will never know sacrifice.
But for loneliness, we will never feel love.

The Third Voice, inviting
Let your soul begin this journey
To seek and understand yourself
To grapple with the darkness
And discover your inner light.

Let your mind find its peace
Among your life's wellsprings
This is the beckoning call of our search:
To find ourselves through service.

Buhayin Mo Ang Pangarap Mo

Dedicated to the students of the La Salle Greenhills Adult Night High School, who at one time enriched my life. Karangalan po ang paglingkod ko sa inyong lahat.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Hindi tulad ng agos ng tubig sa dagat
Ang buhay natin sa mundo.
Kung mayroon mang katuparan
Sa lahat ng iyong inaasam
Kailangan nito ng iyong lakas
Sapagkat nasa iyong kamay ang bukas.
Kung pangarap mo'y magiging iyo
Huwag kang magpapalito,
Kung ika'y may hinahanap
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Sa pagsikat ng araw mapapawi ba
Ang pangamba mo sa puso?
Kung mayroong mang paglunas
Sa sugat ng iyong damdamin
Kailangan nito ng pag-unawa
Sapagkat ikaw ang bubuo ng diwa.
Kung pag-ibig ay tataglayin mo
Himukin ang 'yong puso
Kung nais mong umibig
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Sa lahat ng araw na ginawa ng Diyos
Inilaan Niya ang pagkakataong
Matamo natin ang kanyang itinakda.
Hindi sapat ang pamarisan lamang
Natin ang nakaraan.
Sapagkat ang iniwan sa ati'y lubos
Para sa lahat ng panahon.
Hindi ba't inilaan Niya
Ang buhay para sa ating utang
At sandaigdigang kasalanan?

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Mapaparisan ba ng liwanag ng buwan
Ang ilaw ng iyong puso?
Mahirap mang paniwalaan
Ang ganitong katotohanan
Ikaw lamang ang makatatamasa
Sa kabuuan ng iyong pagnanasa.
Kung apoy sa puso'y mabubuhay
Huwag umasa't maghintay,
Kung ika'y may ninanasa,
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.
Maitatago mo ba ang iyong damdamin
Sa lahat ng mga tukso?
Dayain mo man ang iba
Huwag lang ang iyong konsiyensiya.
Kung dala na paghamon ay pangangamba
Manalig ka at huwag mabahala.
Kung mayroong kasukat ang panahon
Ikaw lang ang may sagot doon.
Kung nais mo ang mabuhay,
Buhayin mo ang pangarap mo.

The Malpractice of Suing Malpractice

In reaction to the news raised by one of my doctor-friends

http://news.inq7.net/opinion/index.php?index=1&col=&story_id=13862

My .02 on this –

Medical malpractice law must be rooted first in the improvement of medical services. Rather than using the malpractice law as a goad to pinpoint accountability and assign blame, the key factors government should be considering are:

1. The state of the medical profession in the country
2. The professionalism and adequate preparation of medical professionals
3. Giving appropriate monetary and non-monetary rewards and recognition to medical professionals to prevent their exodus
4. Making basic medical care more affordable to the greater mass of the Filipino public.
5. Increasing basic public health awareness so that medicine will be more preventive than curative.
6. Putting more money in public health programs as a percentage of GDP.

The other obvious factors in developing a medical malpractice law are:

• Creating and maintaining a largely incorruptible implementing mechanism. Who determines the degree of malpractice or neglect? How will they be selected? What is the nature of their involvement – paid or voluntary, temporary or permanent? How do you make them resistant to monetary or other forms of pressure? And most importantly – what makes you sure that making them cops won’t ruin their professional competence and/or judgment?
• Ensuring that cases are adequately and expeditiously filed and decided upon. Who will report cases? Who will conduct preliminary investigation? How will you secure support from hospital administrators? Where will documentation support come from? Who will rotate the evaluation of cases? How many people will you assign eventually to the whole support structure? How will you ensure that cases of “justice delayed, justice denied” will not proliferate?
• How can you protect doctors from wrongful filing or nuisance cases?
• How will you educate doctors in the nuances of the law? And who will educate them? How do you assign levels of accountability – supervising physician, ER physician, head nurse, shift nurse….heck, even the freaking janitor – when a case comes up?
• In the end, where will all the money come from to make sure this law is properly implemented?

I realize that there are a lot of holes in what I just mentioned, and/or somehow there are structures in place that will do some of the roles…

The government can’t implement a medical malpractice law, not with health care receiving less than 5% of total GDP! It’s f**king crazy if you ask me. The medical profession is best served by a better government program that is focused on developing better health professionals and delivering medical services where they are most needed, i.e. at the rural and barangay levels.

To do that, there are several directions, but the one that sounds best to me is to make internships and training more “organic,” i.e. assigning more interns to do more community work.

The real winners for any medical malpractice law in the Philippines would be the insurance and the medical supply companies, i.e. pharmaceutical manufacturers, medical laboratories, the whole kit-and-caboodle that support the medical profession, without necessarily translating into better medical services. Doctors will ask for more tests, more lab work, instead of doing some real doctor-ing. Yup, these “do-gooders” will have just ensured that medical professionals will seek work overseas, where at least their medical insurance bills would be covered by the higher standard of living of their patients and higher paychecks for them, too.

A law is needed, but lawmakers and public affairs people should first put the state of public health in the Philippines in the proper context.

That’s just about it. More if I think of something later.

Birthday

It's my birthday today. Shhh... I'd rather not hear the words, "Happy Birthday!"

I think I started hating my own birthday, subconsciously, when I was about five or six years old. My brother and I were horsing around in our backyard, where we had a basketball half-court. For some reason or another, the horsing around became a serious shoving match. Naturally, though my brother gave up a few pounds on me, he was older by two years, taller, and probably stronger. So my right eye received the business end of the concrete. I was glad I didn't lose any teeth (in other news, I did get back at my brother by loosening his tooth for him in another episode).

Anyhow, I bawled like the big crybaby I was and fell asleep. It was about five in the afternoon. Because of the fight, my parents chose not to wake me up. So they ate all the goodies prepared for that day and my brother ended up blowing the candles on my cake. Bummer.

Birthdays also often meant periodical exams in school so I never really enjoyed this time of year. Still, it was a bit of fun because two of my other classmates and I had back-to-back-to-back birthdays from the 3rd to the 5th.

Then there was that incident during the time of my 18th birthday when I was finishing some papers for my PoliSci class. It was the 40th day since my maternal grandfather had passed on. He was literally salt of the earth, a carpenter who loved making things with his hands until the last few months of his life.

So there I was, rushing to get some work done. It was 3:00 a.m. and I was writing like crazy to get the work done - no PC then and the typewriter would have been too loud (yes, I am dating myself impossibly here). To this day, I can swear that I heard some noises – first of a saw cutting its way through plywood, then the hammering of nails into wood.

My hackles rose and goosebumps broke out all over my body – but I ignored the sounds at first. It was only when I heard the tinkling of glass, as if my grandfather was pouring himself a shot of Tanduay on ice, that I finally gave up, left the kitchen and lay down on the couch. While I closed my eyes and blacked out the sound, I said a prayer for the repose of his soul. Whether or not that worked, I fell asleep anyway.

(No, I wasn't smoking weed that day. And I wasn't drinking.)

Then there are the specials called... the birthday break-ups!

(Pause... let me digest that line for just one more moment...)

This is the tenth year in a row when something has overtaken my birthday and I was not able to celebrate it with my family. If I can't celebrate it with them, then there's no reason for me to.

Still, a birthday is a chance to be thankful for the gift of life, and hard as it may be for some, life will always be precious. A birthday is a chance to say "thank you" to those who have given me life and nurtured me to become the person that I was. My life is a testament to what they have done for me, and though at times I would tend to blame them for living their life through mine, I'm oh so very glad that they bothered in the first place. Others aren't as lucky.

Happy birthday to me.

Hopes

It's been three years since the fateful events of this day occurred in New York.

I was still late at work rushing to get some papers finished for my boss at that time since he was traveling to Vietnam for the ASEAN Economic Ministers' Meeting as a private-sector representative, and later on to join the President in Japan.

We received a call just past midnight that the news was sprayed all over the broadcast media. The mighty towers had been hit. America took a sucker punch - before the day was over, there was reported loss of around 2,800 lives. I doubt if there was less, but probably there were more unreported deaths that day.

I'll spare myself getting worked up over the catchwords of violence, living as we do in a culture of violence.

It was also around the time that I left one of my previous jobs - one of a series of messy break-ups some people would call abandonments. In fact it was just my second day at my job when the attacks took place. While I was not meant to be with the good folks at the consultancy I left - I did learn one thing from them.

It was how to put a capsule of hope into a set of statements that will define who and what I am. It was not the first time I tried to put my beliefs and values on paper, but this was the first time I had mastered all the tools to make sure I can make these beliefs come true. In a sense, these were not only the things I stood for, but also the things I had always hoped for to achieve in this life.

On this day where the world remembers atrocity, I would like to remember those whose heart-wrenching stories I have not yet heard, because I have been too privileged to encounter them in this life.

And so I renew my stands:

I stand for truth, love, beauty and goodness.

I stand as a concerned citizen of the world, willing to contribute what I can toward making this world a better place.

I stand for a world that is moved by change, yet molded by the ideals I hold dear.

I stand for the cooperative work of all people, able to share peacefully in the resources of this world.

I stand as a unique and special individual, deepening and sharing my intimate relationship with my Creator.

I stand, open and waiting for the challenges that each day would bring me.

Defying Solitude

I cannot help but feel squeamish when I remember the time I recognized the stirrings of love. As the good poet Gibran says "Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. "

But first, one must learn courage to defy solitude.

This piece is for Cherry and Bobby P., who provided the inspiration and worked in my contribution. They also had the grace in first performing it more than 15 years ago. Thanks to Randy Crawford, who lives on in "senti" songs designed for retreats. It's sad but Googling "The Competition" does not yield quick results as to who composed the soundtrack. It's not a riveting earthquake, but that soundtrack played a part in changing a lot of lives.

And for Bambi F. (the memory of whom awakens all sort of squeamishness in me). My voice as the Voice Alone first recognized itself because of you. This voice is older now, and even though I don't know the what-might-have-been's, it's still nice to think of you sometimes.

People are gathered in the dark, illuminated by candles. The voices call out in the darkness.

The Woman
I am not who I was.
I am not going to be who I was going to be.
You changed all that.

The Man
I am not who I was.
I am not going to be who I was going to be.
You changed all that.

The Woman
You are not who you were.
You are not going to be who you were going to be.
I changed all that.

The Man
You are not who you were.
You are not going to be who you were going to be.
I changed all that.

Together
The separate paths we once took crossed
And suddenly became one.
Our lives are no longer yours nor mine alone.
We could never have who we are now
Without each other.

The Voice Alone
I am alone.
In my dreams I walk deserted paths.
In my life I hold forth that shell
With which I ward off everybody.
In my work I do my best to grab it all
And keep all the credit just for me.
In my hours of loneliness I clutch
At my security blankets, whatever's there.
And in my prayers I cry out loud, HELP ME!
But I hear only the passing darkness
. . . and I feel the swelling blackness.
Yes, I am alone.

I am afraid.
As I move closer to loving another person
I fear risking myself, and losing my love.
As I spend the hours in vigilance, alone,
I tremble to experience my own insignificance.
As I stand between the paths of taking and giving
I dread of doing the wrong thing
And end up doing nothing.
And in my soul again I scream, HELP ME!
But no one listens to my plea
. . .no one really cares for me.
Of this I am afraid.

I am confused.
Bewildered by my own universe
I can't understand my own self.
Puzzled by the feelings of others
I never really have felt a fullness.
Mystified by God's grace
I abstain from seeking my own soul.
Confused about my own course
I refuse to care about my life.
And there my spirit shouts, HELP ME!
But I don't see my own hand
. . . I can't help me see myself.
Oh, I...I don't know!

I am angry.
Why shouldn't I be angry
When this world gives nothing to me?
Why shouldn't I be resentful
When I share no love with another?
Why shouldn't I be hateful
When I've never known happiness?
Why shouldn't I be furious
When everything's been so unfair?
Yes, why would I cry, HELP ME?!
But no one really has,
. . .because no one can hear me.

For I am alone, and so unhappy.
I cannot be anything else,
And here I stand, in my empty shell.
I nurse my fears and feel my way
Alone, smoldering at my weakness.
I have failed to love, and so must
Failure come in my living life.
I am alone, my loneliness
Envelops me, and I am no more.

The Woman
What are you looking for?
What do you want to happen?
Aren't you satisfied with what life has to offer?
Will you ever be content?
Will you ever know?

The Man
Then I will sing a song of companionship;
I will show what alone must finally answer these.
I believe these are to find
our own ideal of human love
revealing it in you.
Therefore let me take you
somewhere you have never traveled.
For who but we should understand love
with all its sorrows and joys?
Who but we should be the creators of friends?

All Together
People alone may go very fast
But maybe not so far.
Playing alone is still solitaire,
Remember?
People alone may reach for a love
But only half as well.
People alone may seem satisfied. . .
How can they tell?