Kay Luna, Kaibigan

(Isinulat noong Nobyembre 2008, sa gitna ng lubos na pagkalito sa kinahahantungan ng pagbabalik ng ating pagkakaibigan.)
 
Mula sa karimlan, muling nagbalik
Pagtanggap may pag-aalinlangan

Mula sa putikan, muling lumitaw
Hinugasang, nagbagong kalooban

Kung kaibigan ang turing
Yayakapin,Walang pagdududa, walang pangamba

Ngunit kapag katagang may hibla ng pag-ibig, sinasambit
At bahid ng nagdaan ipinaalala
Inog ng puso ko'y naiiba.
Umuusbong na pagtitiwala, nabubura.

Ano nga ba ang iyong nararamdaman?
Ano nga ba ang iyong ninanasa?

Tila di mag-aabot ating mga pangangailangan
Tila di magkakatapat, inaasam mula sa isa't-isa.

Hindi ko alam kung dapat pang magpatuloy
Itong pag-aalinlangan, pagtataka, pagtatanong

Kung ako'y lumayo
Sagot ba ito upang maibalik ang kapanatagan,
Manahan, katahimikan ng kalooban?

Ano nga ba, Luna, kaibigan
Ang tunay na kasagutan?

On the brink

Candles dripping slowly
Ice melting away
A leaf clinging to a dying tree
Standing at the edge of a precipe.

Sunset fading into darkness
Wilting flowers, cradled in hope-weary arms
Gasping, desperately recalling, humming
The last strains of a beloved song.

Oh, Light of the night
From the brink of desolation, rescue me
Oh, Breath of a new day, ignite the distant embers
Lest I forget... why and how much I love you.

On Learning Happiness

 Some years ago, my siblings and I created what we would imagine could be the titles to Mama's life story if it were to be filmed.

1. LIFE SUCKS!

2. Luluha Ako ng Dugo

3. Balang Araw, Mararamdaman Nyo Rin

4. I Have 3 Beautiful Children, 4 Adorable Grandchildren...ay, at Handsome Husband Pala. But Life Sucks Anyway!
5.The Many Angst of D

6. Survivor of Own Torments

7. I Live to Grieve

8. Why Me, Lord?

9. I'm Happy Being Unhappy

10. Disgruntled Granny, Sucking the Life of Unsuspecting Relatives 

     The titles were borne out of our frustration with having to deal with a mother who was to my mind pathologically unhappy. It all sounds really irreverent but humor was one way my siblings and I faced what was a pretty regular situation in our family.  It was the weapon we used to prevent our spirits from being weighed down too much. It took quite an effort (at least, for me) to soar away from the doldrums because unhappiness can be quite contagious. To this day, I wonder why none of us siblings ended up seeing the world in this dim light, or in psychological terms, how we managed to construe the world differently from our mother.

            In a Positive Psychology class I attended, our  discussions on Happiness validated my belief that it is how we view our life events, whether we interpret them as positive or negative, that dictates whether we experience happiness or its opposite. This much I gathered from my interactions with significant people in my life who exemplified the descriptions of people who could be considered happy or unhappy individuals. In the article by Sonja Lyubomirsky, it was stated that there are people who appear to have a “talent for happiness” in that they “see the world around them through rose-colored glasses, make out the silver lining even in misfortune, live in the present, and find joy in the little things from day to day.” Then there are people who, “even in the best of times, seem chronically unhappy, peering at the world through gray-colored spectacles, always complaining, accentuating the negative, dwelling on the downside of both the trivial and the sublime, and generally deriving little pleasure from life”.

            

            After going through the list of differences between happy and unhappy people and possible reasons for these differences, I could clearly see to where certain people in my life belonged and how living in separate subjective worlds affected the way they conducted their lives. Like watching scenes of my interactions with them, I now understood how their perception of their worlds differed in the “cognitive, judgmental, and motivational strategies” they used in making sense of their experiences. An eye-opener for me was the qualification that these operations were “largely automatically and without awareness.”

              It was also at this point that I begun to absolve myself of my almost nil record of success at trying to assuage the misery that these people periodically went through. My attempts to remind them of their blessings against the lower rate of failures and deprivations were largely unsuccessful to bring them to a state of happiness. And this led me to feel frustration, anger, and guilt for my inability to bring them to see a different point of view. Plainly stated, I could now forgive myself for these negative feelings if I could believe that there was really nothing I could do if there was no desire in them to change their perceptions.

            But looking back at our family’s experience, I would not entirely discount how life deprivations may contribute to one’s experience of happiness. I couldn’t say that using the objectivist-bottom up tradition to understand happiness is entirely useless. I still think that if Mama had the advantages of a “comfortable income, robust health, a supportive marriage, and lack of tragedy” in her life, she would have been a happier person. And this is where I guess I understand why Mama was the way she was. From her youth to her old age, deprivations, challenges, and tragedies were constantly thrown her way. Relative to how our lives have been so far, I can say we had it better than what she had.  Who can say how we would interpret life events if we had gone through what she did?

               And so when I read again the "movie titles" in the context of what I know now about happiness, I feel a tinge of regret for being harshly judgmental at that time. Maybe how I look at life differently from her, I owe to Mama. When I go back to the past I realize now that I had forgotten how her joy and celebratory spirit during successes and good times had become an inspiration for me to pursue that kind of life for myself. It was her strength to rise above tragedies that instilled that resolve in me not to drown in sorrow in the face of failures and instead turn to my blessings to lift me up.  Could it be I taught myself to be happy by using humor and gratitude as tools to help me through tough times?  If I did, am I teaching the same lessons to my children now? I hope that when they write about me in my old age, they will say they learned happiness from me.    

Smash - Never Give All The Heart

Another formula for forgiveness

    The loss of very close friends of mine continue to haunt me even after many years. Although I am constantly reminded by well-meaning people that time heals all wounds, I still cannot get to that place where what happened no longer matters. That might be because I have not learned to forgive them for the pain of not knowing what it is I did or did not do to deserve what they put me through.

           Lately though, I've imagined myself forgiving them, saying "Ok na ako. Ok na rin sana kayo!"  I've abandoned my idea that in order for a person to be forgiven, he or she must acknowledge his or her wrongdoing and apologize for it.  It is highly unlikely to happen so why should my soul suffer over someone else's  inability to show remorse? Maybe I did deserve to be severed from their lives. Who knows?!

           This realization is probably ten years too late but hey, those were really big and deep wounds! Taking baby steps now but I have my whole life ahead of me for making peace with my universe.  For now, "Wherever you are, I forgive you!"

The Shifting of Light

             I was seated on one of the wooden benches on DAP taking in this beautiful sight on a just-right cool day in Tagaytay when I noticed that the light on the lawn would change from minute to minute. First, the sun was bright and intense on the ground, then suddenly the light softened, and then the colors of the trees and grass would glow again. It was like someone up there was playfully folding and unfolding a giant umbrella over the area where I was. Looking up, I noticed a flurry of clouds move from the end of the sky farthest from me towards the direction over my head. Sometimes, the clouds took a lazy pace, taking their own sweet time to traverse the distance. But when I chose to pay close attention, up there was a spread of feathery clouds that seemed to be racing to get to a finish line.

               And that was when I realized how flimsy-looking clouds can reduce the intensity of the light and heat of the sun. Even for a fleeting moment, that which signified Life seemed to have surrendered its power to the seemingly weightless combination of water and air. It was a free-form dance of nature's elements which delighted my senses at that moment and rekindled memories of Clouds in my life!

              There have been friends who have provided me shade when the Sun had almost burned holes in my heart. They have banished fears and soothed my pain, even if just for a while. They are now gone from my life but were there when it mattered.

            I guess that I too have trekked through the skies to give friends respite from the heat. It would have made me happy to stay. But clouds can only obey the wind that urges them to move on. To where they will matter.

              

   

"Where God is"

"God is manifest in the ordinary, in the actual, in the daily, in the now, in the concrete incarnations of life."

... — from Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality

        During Mass yesterday, feeling absolutely low, some kids from Catechism class were asked to sit with me. The tears just had to stop. At the end of the mass, one 5-year-old even managed to kick my little toe. Aaaw! Bleeding, how could I not concentrate on my physical pain instead of the one in my heart? Strange ways God picks to make one forget desperation, even for a while!

A day without you

Bright sunlight,

Hopes of You

Fading light,

Sadness veiling my heart

Darkness,

Waiting in vain

Will there ever be a Dawn?

It was good for the soul

I am in Tagaytay for the weekend. To do a research report still unwritten way past its deadline. It wasn't easy getting here. Gathering people together on a common time and a willingness to go out of town just to complete this task met some barriers. When it was finally decided that  Jay and I would go this weekend, Kara got sick. Symptoms of the dreaded swine flu scared the household and that promptly led me to cancel the plan. When her fever subsided after a day, I thought working in my office or in a rented room in a nearby hotel would suffice. Tried going to at least 4 places but they were nowhere near my expectations in terms of cost and security considerations.

But typical of me, I would not, could not let go of the idea of working away from my everyday distractions. I knew that I could write in a day what it would take a week if I did it in my home or office. It was not out of whimsy that I wanted to do this. I just knew what I had to do to meet this urgency.

So I pursued Tagaytay once  again. My favorite place for working couldn't accommodate me this time. They had a death in their community and were too busy to attend to me. So I opted for the next best place, counting on the generosity of a friend who arranged for it. Puede naman! Yay!

There was no available vehicle to bring me up as two cars were not roadworthy. But no, I could take the bus with Jay. No problem! Then on the morning of the departure, Jay called to say he couldn't  join me as he was being asked to go home because his father was sick. Haay! 

That didn't stop me though. And because I would be alone, Tito decided to ask the driver to bring me up using the Innova. And he promised to pick me up the next day. Transportation glitch solved!

On the way there, it dawned upon me that there was in all probability one more reason I persisted in doing this despite all the stumbling blocks. In the car, still along EDSA, I put on the iPod to listen to my fave tunes in it. When "Lullabye" by Billy Joel came on, the tears started to fall and they wouldn't stop. I was shamelessly shedding tears every few minutes. This was not the first time this song had this effect on me. The first time was when Papa died and now that both of them were gone, it was not hard to imagine both Mama and Papa singing the song for me.   

The tears continued on the SLEX, in Tapa King in Sta. Rosa, in SVD while in the privacy of my room. Anywhere. It mattered little now if anyone would notice. There was no stopping the dam unleashed.

Yes, I was brought to Tagaytay because I needed to cry, to purge myself of all the hurt,  and to admit my shortcomings.  I think I will still cry some more for Mama and Papa in the future but hopefully, for joyous reasons.

I listened to my soul, against all odds, and I'm glad I did!

 

I Am My Father's Daughter... My Mother's, Too

My nightly ritual with Mama of praying the rosary while she is asleep in ICU doesn't become easier with each day. Somehow, before the rosary is finished my voice breaks and tears fall. I control the breaking of my voice because I don't want Mama to hear the despair arising from it. I don't want anyone else to see this moment of weakness.

I have learned to control the demonstration of my emotions. At times, you can even say I am stoic. This, I learned from Papa. I thought it was the height of cool that one could stay calm and collected in the face of a crisis. When Mama would be in hysterics, he would be seemingly detached from it all. He would just look as if there was nothing happening that was out of the ordinary. He would almost always send me to fix things up. I would of course do it but with much resistance and resentment. I wondered why I had to be the one to calm her down and soothe her nerves just as I also pondered why Mama had to resort to histrionics to make her point in their countless arguments.

So I strove NOT to be like her. During any crises, I could be counted upon to be unfeeling and therefore could think through a tense situation. Even if deep inside me, my nerves were in a turmoil, I was not one to make this known. I try to maintain that poise no matter what (even during childbirth labor pains, I've been told)!

But twice in my adult life, when getting caught in their fights had proven to be too much, to my horror I have acted out like Mama. I have surprised myself by screaming and crying with all of my being. I have always regretted my behavior on these two occasions but looking back, I excuse myself by saying that Mama and Papa got what they deserved. I was just replaying events to which they subjected me on a regular basis from childhood till my middle adulthood. (I would only get a respite from the fights when they ceased during their years of infirmity.)

Can we escape from having the images and our reactions to them being implanted during our childhood? Can we choose whom we want to become but inevitably play out hurtful scenes once again even when we don't want to?

Am I more my father's daughter? Or my mother's? Hmmmm... Both, I guess but Neither, too.
I am complicated, befuddled, but always trying to be no one but ME! 

Saturday, 6 June 2009
Outside the ICU

Alambre, hiyas, at tula

Alin kaya ang mas matimbang sa akin?
Gigil?
Pagpipigil sa panggigigil?
O hindi pag-amin sa panggigigil?
Hmmm...


Hinanda para sa isang art show pero naging daan para maibsan ang pangangailangang lumikha at lagyan ng kuwento ang mga nilikhang ito. (I-click ang mga larawan upang mabasa ang mga tula.)

The Painting & The Poem

ON SEEING HIM AGAIN

My pain dwells behind
A screen of lace
Wrought by fingers
In restless wait.

Gossamer strands of sighs
Intertwining, embracing
Coarse twines of guilt
Unraveling in my mind.

As if through a tulled veil
Made taut by tears
Forbidden to fall
This heart looks from afar.

To behold, to caress
Yet never touch

To memorize your every expression
Despite prying eyes
That keep watch.

My essence wears a silken sheath
Unseen by those who know not
But the light that is you
Lays bare the weakest in me.

My soul awakens only in my dreams
Where reality is surrendered
And the scent of your being
Vividly remembered.

My sanity is in tattered disguise
Pleading to break free
Should I don mourning black
To clothe the rest of me?


The painting, "The Black Bride", is by Welbart, one of my Multiply Contacts. I grabbed this image from "In His Place..." album in his site. I've yet to meet him or see his works except through the web. But from what you'll see in http://welbartstudio.multiply.com you will surely agree with me that he is a noteworthy & fantastic artist.

The poem is mine, from so long ago, & has been published in virtualwriter.net. The words and the painting just seemed to belong together.

ARE WE DOOMED?

Wrote the following five years ago. I thought I'd like to share it on the occasion of Bong's 49th birthday. You're doing a good job, Bong!

Friday, August 12, 2005

Sabi daw ni J.K. Rowling na ang Harry Potter books niya ay "a litany of bad fathers. That's where evil seems to flourish, in places where people didn't get good fathering." I beg to disagree! I believe that we are what we are as a result of choices that we make in our lives. Yes, if our fathers did a lousy job, it can be one of the reasons why we find ourselves all twisted inside. BUT we shouldn't use it as an excuse to stay that way. I always tell my siblings that despite the tragedy of our parents' relationship and its effect on our emotional make-up, we didn't turn out so bad! They must have done something right somehow!

Fe, who knows me more than anyone else, pointed out something which never occurred to me before. She said that one good thing that came out of my having to be constantly caught in the middle of my parents' fights was my ability to see things objectively. She said she constantly ran to me for advice because I was sure to give her an honest and fair evaluation of a situation. What I thought was a weakness for not being able to readily take sides in an issue or conflict was considered a strength by my friend.

I think the more important blessing we can get from our less-than-perfect childhood is that we try to be better parents to our children than our parents were to us. Early on, I decided I would spare my children the misery I had to go through as a child being asked to take sides in a fight and having to be the one to make things right between my parents. Even my choice of a husband was dictated by his being basically unlike my father. Papa tried to be a good father but because he failed at being a good husband, he couldn't quite succeed at the fathering bit.

I know my children will be happier than I was. And they will turn out to be as great (ehem!) as their scarred parent. And that, ironically, they would owe to their grandparents!

The Friends Who Went Away

There comes a point in your life when you realize:

who matters, 

who never did,

who won't anymore...

and who always will.

So, don't worry about people from your past,

there's a reason why they didn't make it to your future.                                                                     

     Got this in my e-mail. Got to thinking about (AGAIN!) the friends who went away... the friends that were always there and suddenly had no desire to breathe the same air that sustained me. Too many blog entries have been written about them. Poems even! So many years asking why, why, why!

     Enough, I guess, even if it means not knowing the their reasons for their staying away. Too much time wasted grappling with the shadows. Too many negative emotions crowding out memories of warmth and laughter shared in days past. Too much wasted energy which should have been invested in celebrations of love and friendship instead! The time for mourning is up!  

Tapos na ang pagluluksa...

Sana magsuot na muli ng kulay ang puso ko!

 

Sa Kaibigang Gusto Ko Sanang Batiin sa Kanyang Kaarawan

Kaarawan n'ya kahapon at halos buong araw kong pinag-isipan kung dapat ko ba siyang batiin. Dapat sana'y di kailangang pagaksayahan ng panahon ang pag-iisip tungkol dito. Kung tunay nga akong kaibigan, di na ako dapat nagatubili. Pero nanaig pa rin ang takot na bigyan ng isang maling kahulugan ang pag-alala sa isang kaibigan. Kaya't minabuti ko na lang na isulat dito ang aking niloloob. Kasunod ang isang sulat para sa kanya, isang sulat na di kailanman maipadadala...

Kaibigan,

    Bakit nga ba nagbago ang lahat? Wala akong maalalang nagawa upang maging dahilan sa iyong paglayo. Sa aking naiisip na posibleng dahilan, hinanakit lamang ang aking maisusukli sa iyo kung tama nga ang aking hinala. Hindi lang isang beses ko ito nabanggit noon, ngunit pagtanggi palagi ang iyong sagot sa akin.

   Noong nakaraang buwan, habang naglalakad sa Acad Oval kasama ng maraming tao, nalamapasan mo ako. Mabilis ang iyong paghakbang palayo sa akin. Hindi ko tinawag ang iyong pansin dahil sa aking palagay ay nakita mo naman ako ngunit tuloy-tuloy ka pa rin sa iyong paglalakad.  Lubos na bang nagbago ang itsura ng aking likuran na di mo na ito nakilala? Dahil ba may suot akong sumbrero ay wala man sa hindi nakakubli sa akin ang nagpaalala sa dati mong kaibigan?

    Igagalang ko ang iyong kagustuhan na lumayo. Mayroon kang dahilan para gawin ito ngunit masakit pa ring tanggapin ang iyong katahimikan! Ngunit sa kabila ng lahat, nagpapasalamat ako sa panahon na iyong inilaan upang maibsan ang mga sugat sa aking kaluluwa. Naroon ka sa mga pagkakataong kinailangan ko ng uunawa sa burak ng aking pagkatao.

    Sana'y nasa maayos kang kalagayan! Katulad ng madalas mong sabihin sa akin noon, hanapin mo ang iyong kaligayahan! Maligayang Kaarawan, NdC!

    

Soap for the soul

  A friend gave me a bar of soap which she said might help lighten the big, dark scar on my left leg. But it took me some time before I actually used it. It was more out of not wanting to disappoint her that I tried it rather than a desire to recoup on the promise of fairer skin.

While unblemished skin is regarded by most people as an asset, my not having such is not too bad. I have learned to look at my unsightly scar as a reminder of the kind of person I am. Like a battle scar, it speaks of what I am capable of doing in the presence of danger. My unconcern for disguising it also shows my distaste for pretensions and excessive vanity.

But when thoughts turn to emotional scars, sometimes I wish someone would concoct  a double-acting soap with properties to lighten, if not get rid of, the hurts. I wish that with daily  use, the "kirot" would subside and in its place a resolve to forget the reasons behind the pain. The scrubbing and the rinsing should at least make faint the anger and the resentments until they are no more.

Is the placenta soap working on lightening the scar on my leg? It's too soon to tell! But  I will be marketing soon a soap for the soul. Its active ingredient is  "Forgiveness" and I can vouch for its effectiveness. Since I decided to use it, the wound in my soul has started healing.The dark scar, slowly fading. Oh so slowly, but getting there!

MULA SA AKING BINTANA

                            Image by Gari Buenavista (http://pananaw.multiply.com)

Agaw-dilim, Agaw-dilim

Bakit pangamba ang dulot mo, agaw-dilim?

Katahimikang bumabalot sa naghihingalong araw

Bumubuhay sa mga alaalang nahihimlay.

Agaw-dilim, malupit na agaw-dilim

Sa iyong pagyapos, tila lakas ko’y nauupos

Ulirat ko’y pilit ibinibigkis

Sa mga pinipilit limuting hapis.

Agaw-dilim, agaw-dilim

Pakiusap ko sa iyo, agaw-dilim

Aking tanong, ihatid sa puso ng tinatanaw ko

                                          “Paminsan-minsan ba’y naaalala mo rin ako?”

Pighati sa UP Sunken Garden

Green upon green
Grief upon grief
On my bed, On My bench
A face I cannot recall, Words that I've been waiting for
They are one and the same.

The tears on this breezy morning are not new
The salt stings, they blur scenes
Played in a mind that foolishly hopes
Images of waiting...waiting in vain.

I don't want this, I no longer need this.

The well of despair in my being
I will dilute
With the cold green tea in my hand

The spark of the forgotten feeling
I will douse with lines
From the pain-drenched journal in my other hand

I will let the scent of newly-cut grass
Soothe me, intoxicate me
Until the longing is no more.

Parang ang layo mo

USC Talamban Chapel, Cebu

Kung minsan, parang ang layo-layo mo
Lalo na kapag nagagalit ako... sa mundo.
Sa mga taong di umaayon sa mga pagkilos na inaasahan ko
Sa mga pagsubok na sunod-sunod
Sa mga pangangailangang di matapos-tapos
Sa aking pangungulila sa mga kaibigang nawala
Sa kadilimang sumisilip mula sa kalaliman ng aking diwa.