Thank You Speech
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It always feels like Christmas whenever I celebrate my birthday. One, because it takes me at least two weeks to celebrate it, and two, i get to see, speak with or hear from all my friends, family and loved-ones.

I would like to thank everyone who took the time out to wish me a happy birthday: those who called, emailed, texted, wrote, came to see me in person and actually went out of their way to make my day extra special, thank you thank you very much!

Becoming the Bamboo
Posted in

shifting consciousness

at dawn, to become

the bamboo

Saturday's SLG Sportsfest went surprisingly well. Our group won the cheerdancing competition, (yahoo, yahoo!) and my team, beige, was declared over all champion.

I went home with sore muscles and eyes sore from crying. I was doing my best not to cry in front of 250 people during morning mass. I was originally tasked to sit with the kids at the center in the rented vehicle. No problem, I was used to doing that.  But I was also asked by my landlady and churchmate to bring her daughter along and fetch sister carol, another SLG member who has yet to set foot in Queensrow, Cavite.

To cut the long story short, I waited for the two women and got left by the kids. Rizza, God Bless her,  covered for me in watching over the children. I was immediately scolded by Sister Tita, one of the core coordinators and wasn't given a chance to explain why I was late. I felt bad and wanted to leave. I pouted and sulked before the mass began, but during the homily, when the priest spoke about the life of St. Therese of Lisieux, I started to cry.

He emphasized that Saint Therese never complained even when she was being attacked from all sides by the nosy nuns in the convent. They really didn't like her in the first place. The 12-year-old Teresita made them feel insecure, but eventhough she was relegated to a life of washing plates, scrubbing floors and cleaning bathrooms, the Little Flower remained steadfast in prayer---always offering the little things she was doing for the Lord.

                                       a lotus sits

                                       and blooms

                                         on her own....

At that point I cried. It was like God was telling me to go on, to keep moving and working in my own small way even if most of the time, what I do doesn't get appreciated.

I didn't get angry at Sister Tita though. She and I even stood next to each other during communion. And I cheered hardest for her when it was her turn to do the "hula hoop" in the core member competition.

Wala lang, naiyak lang ako. Feeling ko kasi sobrang makulit ako at pasaway na worker. Madalas nagkakamali at sumasablay. Apart from the fact na mga mommies at lola ang karamihan ng mga kasamahan ko sa SLG, lagi kong iniisip na hindi na nila naiintindihan yung mga sitwasyon na pinagdadaanan ko ngayon.

Si Sister Mona nga gusto na akong ipasok sa kumbento. Baka daw kasi madalas pa rin akong nayayaya ng mga barkada sa gimik (hindi na po madalas, pero lumalabas pa rin ako with friends for coffee!) saka wag na daw ako mag isip mag asawa kasi baka masaktan lang daw ako paiyakin (aysus! kaya pala nde ako magka bf may kumokontra! bwahahaha, nanay Mona talaga gusto akong gawing santa!)

Kidding aside, I'm more grounded now than I was last year. Mas madaming mabigat na pagsubok ang dinaanan ko this year, and things always managed to fall into place once I let it go and leave everything to Him.

                                           new moon---

                                           casting charms

                                           on old mirrors

I'm not lacking anything at this point. In fact I can say that the universe has given back to me three or even ten fold whatever little of myself I offered. It's just so wonderfully calm right now.

One thing though. I still need to rid myself of old habits and potentially destructive thoughts...to embody love and light and be a better person and a worthy worker for Christ. Hirap nun. Parang new year's resolution, wag sanang mapako ang mga bagay na ipinangako ko sa sarili ko. Ayaw ko na munang mangako kay Lord, nahihiya ako kapag hindi ko natutupad, or hindi ko magagawa yung mga bagay na ine expect ng mga kasamahan ko na magagawa ko.

Basta I'm happy and grateful for everything. It was a good year that came and went. And I offer a prayer of thanks for another birthday. May I be able to give more of myself to others ...

Empty Pockets
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**sometimes, we need to rid ourselves of things we should no longer be carrying: hurts, disappointments, anger, or at times, people who have wounded us deeply. Go start looking for bread crumbs. ~angel24/7

Empty Pockets
By Johanna Skilling

In September of 1998, life was not exactly going the way I'd planned. Work and love, two of the big pillars of life, had shifted, and I was feeling just a little wobbly. The previous May, taking a hard look at my savings and a big leap of faith, I'd left a job I hated to work on my very first book proposal. After 16 weeks of work and at least as many rewrites, 60 pages were gone, submitted to publishers. Sure, I was excited, but I'd made one little mistake: Without the proposal to work on, I hadn't thought about what to do while I waited for an answer. And who knew how long that would take? Or what the answer would be?

I was also struggling with a failing romance. My relationship with my fiancé was feeling like a long-distance romance, and I don't mean geographically. The Hollywood ending I'd been hoping for was starting to seem scripted more by Kurosawa than Capra. I needed to do something that felt definite: I wanted to prove to myself that I still had some small measure of control over my life. So I got on the internet and started looking up apartment rentals in Italy.

That is how it happened that I found myself in Florence for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It was the first time in a number of years that I would be away from my New York community of friends, and my synagogue, for the New Year. I thought about observing the holidays at the beautiful Moorish-style Tempio Israelitico in Via Luigi Carlo Farini, but the one Friday-evening Shabbat service I attended was a little sad, a little lonely: It wasn't a place I wanted to be for the holidays known, with reason, as the Days of Awe.

I decided that I'd be happy simply to observe taschlikh, the time when Jews symbolically empty their pockets of sins, of sorrow, of poor intentions. The word tasche, in German, means "pocket"; taschlikh literally means "of the pockets." The custom began in Europe about 800 years ago, and the simple outlines haven't changed much. You simply stand above or beside a moving body of water--a brook, a river, an ocean--and if you choose, say some simple prayers. And you symbolically empty your pockets of sins, disguised as breadcrumbs, and scatter those crumbs on the moving water. Even in its simple outlines, the ritual echoes the great themes of repentance and renewal that reverberate throughout the Days of Awe. How do breadcrumbs help balance out our sins? George Robinson, author of "Essential Judaism," notes that the word for "sin" in Hebrew is kheit, a term derived from archery, which refers to a shot that falls short of its mark. "Hence," he writes, "those sins that we repent at this time of year are a failure to live up to our potential, a failure to fulfill one's obligations." During the High Holy Days, we not only repent our sins, but vow to do better, to try to make the arrow hit its mark more certainly in days to come.

My days in Florence passed in a pleasant suspension: I systematically explored every last gelato emporium and strolled through museums filled with sinuous bronze and solid marble, oil paintings, pencil drawings, pastels, and frescoes. I tried not to think too much. So I was startled to realize, about 4 o'clock one afternoon, that this was indeed the first day of Rosh Hashanah, and the time for the taschlikh observance.

The Upper West Side of Manhattan, where I live, is said to have the greatest population of Jews outside of Israel. In the afternoon of the first day of Rosh Hashanah, a great wave of people make their way to the western edge of Manhattan island, crossing curving Riverside Drive, following one of the sloping paths through the green band of Riverside Park, through one of the tunnels under the Henry Hudson Parkway, and emerging down on the narrow strip of asphalt that lies just a few feet above the Hudson River. Clustering together, groups of people stroll, chat, and pause at the metal railings lining the path to say some words of prayer and scatter breadcrumbs in the moving waters of the Hudson.

Instead, on this day, I turned alone down the crooked streets to the jade-green Arno. I'd walked halfway across one of the many bridges spanning the small river when I realized I didn't have any bread with me. Oh well, I thought. Too late now.

I leaned against the balustrade, my weight against the reassuring stone, the sun warming my back. In a way, it seemed fitting that I had no breadcrumbs in my pockets. Like everything else about this particular time in my life, the observance could unfold spontaneously, without the comfort of familiarity.

I watched the water sluice over the concrete feet of the bridge. And then I noticed that I had company. A little boy, maybe 6 or 7, with hair the color of lemon sorbetto, began walking across the bridge. He was with his family: two parents and a little sister. He hung back from them and took up a place by the rail. Like me, he watched the water. His family stood in the middle of the road, in the middle of the small bridge, the adults chatting quietly. Waiting for him to run and rejoin them. The boy reached into a paper sack he was holding. His hand re-emerged holding crumbs of bread; he threw the crumbs into the water. The Lord provides, I thought.

They swirled for a moment above a school of fish, little fellows, gray and slithery, playing where a cascade of water formed a little waterfall. Bread and fishes seemed appropriate for Catholic Italy, after all, and I enjoyed the way the ritual had been translated. The little boy had thrown my sins into the water for me, the stale bread of my sins. Not too many, but there, ready to float away.

We waited, the boy and I, as the crumbs lingered on top of the water at the foot of the bridge. The fish did not rise to devour them as I expected, and as I imagine the boy intended.

Finally, the boy turned away. I stayed and watched the crumbs float downstream.

It was just a few days later that I got word that a publisher had bought my book proposal. I shared the news with my fiancé by phone; in the same conversation we both acknowledged that our troubled romance had to end. Somehow, that special taschlikh had cleared my thoughts. It reminded me that life is a broad, clear stream that continues to flow through whirlpools, waterfalls, and long slow currents. Where the last small remains of a loaf of bread can float peacefully out of sight. And that even if I don’t always have my own bread to throw on the waters, the Lord provides if I at least get myself to the edge of the river. A few days after that, I thought to check the map, to find out the name of the bridge. It was called the Ponte delle Grazie: the Bridge of Thanks.

THANK YOU
Posted in

By Oprah Winfrey

I live in the space of thankfulness - and I have been rewarded a million times over for it. I started out giving thanks for small things, and the more thankful I became, the more my bounty increased.

That's because what you focus on expands, and when you focus on the goodness in your life, you create more of it. Opportunities,relationships, even money flowed my way when I learned to be grateful no matter what happened in my life.

"Say thank you!" Those words from my friend and mentor Maya Angelou turned my life around. One day about ten years ago, I was sitting in my bathroom with the door closed and the toilet lid down, booing and ahooing on the phone so uncontrollably that I was incoherent.

"Stop it! Stop it right now and say thank you!" Maya chided. "But - you don't understand," I sobbed. To this day, I can't remember what it was that had me so far gone, which only proves the point Maya was trying to make.

"I do understand," she told me. "I want to hear you say itnow. Out loud. 'Thank you.'" Tentatively, I repeated it: "Thank you - but what am I saying thank you for?"

"You're saying thank you," Maya said, "because your faith is so strong that you don't doubt that whatever the problem, you'll get through it.You're saying thank you because you know that even in the eye of the
storm, God has put a rainbow in the clouds.

You're saying thank you because you know there's no problem created that can compare to the Creator of all things. Say thank you!"

So I did - and still do. Only now I do it every day.

I kept a gratitude journal, as Sarah Ban Breathnach suggests in Simple Abundance, listing at least five things that I'm grateful for.

My list includes small pleasures: the feel of Kentucky bluegrass under my feet(like damp silk); a walk in the woods with all nine of my dogs and my cocker spaniel Sophie trying to keep up; cooking fried green tomatoes
with Stedman and eating them while they're hot; reading a good bookand knowing another awaits.

And when I feel that life is hard, all I have to do is read my gratitude journal. IT truly helps.

My thank-you list also includes things too important to take for granted: an "okay" mammogram, friends who love me, 15 years at the same job (and loving it more than the first day I started), a chance to share my vision for a better life, staying centered, having financial security.

I won't kid you, having money for all the things I want is a blessing. But as I look back over my journals, which I've kept since I was 15 years old, 99 per cent of what brought me real joy had nothing to do with money . (It had a lot to do with food,however.)

It's not easy being grateful all the time. But it's when you feel least thankful that you are most in need of what gratitude can give you: PERSPECTIVE. Just knowing you have that daily list to complete allows you to look at your day differently, with an awareness of every sweet gesture and kind thought passed your way.

When you learn to say thank you, you see the world anew. And as Meister Eckhart so eloquently stated:

"If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'Thank you',that would suffice."

Angel's LSS: Bliss
24/7 Reading List: A Year of Simple Splendor
Differential Diagnosis: cheerful

Pick of the Week:
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All Behind Us Now
by Patti Austin
...
Hey, I'm so sorry
that it didn't work the way
that we'd always planned
Hey, I'm so sorry
that you went away
and somehow didn't understand

...
We pretended for so many years, but now
its time wash away my tears

CHORUS

Cause/And it's all behind us now
cause we've learned to live somehow without
each other
And its easy to see, it ain't never
gonna be the same again

And its all behind us now
cause we found a way to live without
each other
And in time we'll have to see
If its ever gonna be that way again
ohh......

...
Hey, I'm so sorry
that I couldn't find the words
that might have made you stay
and hey, it's so funny
how we both can say the same thing in a
different way

...
We pretended for so many years,
but now its over baby
and so are my tears

repeat chorus

...
I was holdin' out for far too long
But now I finally found where I belong

repeat chorus...

Doing Just Fine
Posted in

Someone special from the past left an interesting message at my friendster blog. It was dated September 21st but I only saw it this morning. Funny because he never mentioned anything about it when we chatted online by chance last Thursday.

And while I haven't gotten around to finding the lyrics of "Do or Die" by Mig Ayesa, which you said is your song for me, I agree with your observation that I'm doing just fine. Moving on, living my life and doing the things that make me happy.

I was touched by the support and the gesture---it was so unlike you to leave a blog comment. But yeah, I miss you too jackass. And I appreciate you asking when I'll be coming back to dance with you and the rest of the gang. Really. I miss the old days.

Maybe one of these days we could hang out again. But I know in my heart of hearts that isn't going to be anytime soon. It's touching to read that you miss grocery shopping with me and me tearing apart your essays. Haha.

I'm smiling.  As you say, take the ampalaya as it is. But there are things that the passing of time does render sweet---even the bitter gourd.

*hugs* thanks for everything. For letting me into your life and for becoming a big part of mine. God Bless you.

Angel's LSS: Officially Missing You
Differential Diagnosis: smiling

Published Again
Posted in

Floater

By Anne Stephanie Cruz
YOU Contributor

You wailed like a banshee as I fell.

Perhaps it was your shrill scream that pierced the ocean and
formed the angry, frothing mouth that swallowed me.

Inside this snowglobe of aquamarine,
saltwater churns like clockwork:
tossing top, heaving bottom, displacing even it's own heart
as everything yields to current and undertow.

This is the rule of the sea: nothing stays hidden.
Soon, she will set me free.
Rising with the moon, I will ride the swell of the waves
and drift toward estuarine waters or some unbeached shore.

Eventually, I will be found,
what's left by spawning salmon tagged as "Jane Doe"
until positively identified (by you, most probably).

You will weep,
and make a fairy tale of my life to the authorities;
layering lies to conceal how I was always to you --
a mere floater with hardly any salt in me.

So mote it be.
I sought the bottom of the sea to fulfill your life-long prophecy.

                                   Copyright 2005 INQ7.net. All rights reserved.

*** I may have forgotten how many times my name has appeared in INQ7.net, but it always feels good seeing a labor of love get published. My poems and essays are my children, and each one of them have their own stories to tell. Most of my friends have been wondering what has been keeping me busy, or keeping me from going back to dancing...well, this is the answer.

I miss all of you guys at the gym, especially Apet, Joey, Mark, Vikes,Vic, Juvy, June, Apple, Elma, Tita Cecile, Lhea, Marz, Emil, Ruby, Bes, Ella and all the mommies. Thanks for always asking me when I'll be coming back.

I cannot promise when, I cannot guarantee that its soon. But I will definitely dance again.

Until then...Godspeed everyone.

"If You Forget Me"
Posted in

By Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch near the fire
the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly you forget me, do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners
that passes through my life, and you decide
to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots,
remember that on that day, at that hour,
I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But if each day, each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness
if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

I'm awake, September has ended
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Breathe in, breathe out.

I'm slowly opening my eyes to take a closer look at the world of October, just drinking everything in is a feast for the senses. Cheesy as it may sound, I would like to believe that I've found myself and that at 27, I'm finally comfortable with where I am and who I have become.

I wouldn't go as far as saying that I have everything I want in life, though. But I never find myself lacking anything, most especially the grace to get up again after falling flat on my face---I guess that in itself is a huge blessing.

Three months ago I wanted to quit my job and march back to the newsroom. But here I am, writing this blog entry from the same computer I've used to draft email offers; still sitting on the same blue chair sipping warm latte'. Except now, I no longer refer to myself as copywriter-in-training.

I have arrived.

*Grins* Somebody up there loves me. I don't know if I deserve all of these, but I just want to say thank you. I've lost track of the number of times  I've cried and moped and picked at a lifetime of scabs, but dear Lord, YOU have been so good to me!

I may not have gotten the huge increase I was hoping for, but that was replaced by encouragement and sincere praise from my superiors. At the end of the day, I realized that loving your job means more than getting the higher end of a five-digit salary every month.

When I was younger I used to tell my trainees to just keep writing and the money will come. I have always believed that, and I still do to this day. It just makes me feel so much better looking forward to spending 8 to 10 hours at the office everyday knowing that I know what to do and that I'm good at what I'm doing.

The best part about it is the awareness that I received a lifeline just as I reached the end of my own rope.

Most people refer to awakening as a life-altering experience, oftentimes physical or spiritual. But it could also be the end result of a gradual process one painstakingly walks through. In my case, the latter holds true.

It's not about pride or success. It's about shouting back at that little voice inside your head that says you can't. It was all about stepping outside my comfort zone to meet the person I was meant to become.

To those who cheered me on, thank you for believing in me. That belief grew into hope and hope, in turn,  blossomed into faith. Here I am now, with eyes wide open, ready to take on more challenges.

The chill of September has finally ended.

Trade Offs
Posted in

If You Forget Me...
Posted in Love and other Disasters

 

"If  little by little you stop loving me, I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me, do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land." --Pablo Neruda, If You Forget Me--

Moon Poems
Posted in

for the controversial J.

1.

moon flower
catching dew
from a secret lover

2.

claiming the night
on borrowed light--
mistress moon

3.

don't hold back
it's only our shadows
under the moon

Sa Ngalan ng Ina, ng Anak, ng Diwata't Paraluman
Posted in

ni: Lilia Quindoza-Santiago

Kabiyak lamang daw ako nang isilang.
Isang sugat na ang lunas ay nasa kamay
Ng katuwang. Dinagit ng isang ibon,
Ipinutok ng kawayan, inilatag
Sa sanlibutan ang ganda kong walang muwang,
Walang lakas noong unapaman.

Anino akong laging nakapuwang
Sa pagitan. Walang bakas.
Nakaangkas lamang ako sa yapak ni Malakas.
Ang katauhan ko’y hinahati-hati
Ng tahanan at larangan, ang tinig
Ay malimit nakalutang sa kawalan.

Sang-ayon sa mga ama,
Ako raw ang nag-aruga sa kadakilaan.
Sa sinapupunan ko nagmula
Ang bayani ng Mactan, Pugadlawin at Mendiola.
Ako ang nagburda sa iwinagayway na bandila,
Kasama rin akong sumangga sa mga punglo ng digma.

Diwata ako ng bawat pakikibaka,
Paraluman ng himagsikan,
Lakambini ng Katipunan,
Musa ng insureksyon,
Mutya ng digmang-bayan.
Sa kandungan ko nalulunasan ang mga sugatan.

Ngunit ako’y walang kasaysayan.

Nagluluwal ako ngunit hindi nabubuhay.
Pinagbubuntis ko ang palay,
Pinalalabay ang mga halaman,
Pinatatayog ang niyog
Pinatitibay ang abaka
Pinatitimyas ang asukal.

Habang naghahayuma,
Umaamot ako ng awa sa buwan at alon
Upang biyayaan ang namalakaya.
Inaamo ko rin ang ulan at hangin
Upang maigaya ng sagwan at tikin
Ang nahuling isda patungong baybayin.

Sinusunong ko ang bilao ng tagsalat,
Nagbabasag ng banga sa pagsalok ng dalita.
Isinusukbit ko ang karit
Kapag nagbabanta ang pangangamkam,
Ipinapandong ko ang hapis
Kapag yumayao ang kasaganaan.

Palad ko ang naghahain
Gumiling lang ang pabrika
Kamao ko ang kumukuyom
Sa sahod na di magkasya.
Nagrarasyon ako at nag-oorasyon
Magtagumpay lamang ang welga.

Lahat ng ito’y walang lagda sa gunita.

Ngayon, halimbawa’y, di na ako
Ang masuyong perlas ng silangan.
O ang birheng matimtiman.
Sinisisid na ng kalakal ang pusod
Ng aking dagat. Dinadayukdok na ng dayuhan
Ang buo kong kapuluan.

Dapat ba akong manatiling namamaybay sa patlang?
Ayaw ko nang maging kaulayaw ng unan o ng sandok,
Ayaw ko nang mamalaging kalaguyo sa atrasan.
Ang nais ko ngayo’y lunasan ang kinagisnang sugat,
Tanganan ang palad, kumalabit ng gatilyo.
Gulantangin ang tahimik na siglo.

Nais kong baguhin ang mga alaala.

Magbabanyuhay ako bilang isang Babaylan.
Upang awitan ang mga inang walang kibo;
Ang hihimigin ko’y kundiman ng punglo,
Kuwintas na parangal sa minartir na kabaro;
Sa gitna ng larangan, magsisilang ako ng mga uyayi,
Na aawitin sa mga supling ng malayang mundo.

Kaya, sa ngalan ng ina, ng anak.
Sa ngalan ng mga diwata’t paraluman,
Iadya ako sa paglibak ng minulan,
Basbasan ang aking pagsasalakay sa karawagan,
Pagpalain nawa ako sa taimtim na paglaban
Ngayon, hanggang katubusan.

**this is one of my favorite Filipino poems. I found it again this morning and it triggered a rush of college memories. I remember discussing this piece in Bievenido Lumbera's lit class, who later assigned me to do a report on the author, Lilia Quindoza-Santiago, a UP Professor.

I interviewed her at home as she was preparing a dish of beef mechado for her family...we had an animated conversation about poetry, writing, family life, being a woman, activism and how one manages to interweave all these facets into a fully-functioning whole.

What I like about this poem is its subtle overtones. It doesn't fully scream "makibaka at mag alsa",nor does it appeal to too much emotion, it is a poem about women that men would want to read and somehow find sense in.

Of course, the prayer-like tone of the poem is the charm...This is a woman empowered and unafraid of the world and the people around her, yet remains soft and humble enought to submit to beings and forces far greater than she is.

Remains of the Day
Posted in



When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you until it seems that you cannot hold on for a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn. -Harriet Beecher Stowe

Life offers many challenges, the ultimate being death itself. We are sometimes called upon to face pain, suffering, loss, and grief that may seem impossible to handle. Prayer gives us hope and keeps us moving. When confronted with a trial of any kind: Face it. Lift it. Commit it. Release it.
1. Face it. One thing that adds enormous pressure to an already tense situation is our inability to face realistically what may be happening to us. We may be:

a. Fearful of the outcome
b. Unwilling to believe the facts
c. Embarrassed by the conditions
d. Protective of ourselves or others

 Denying or avoiding a problem that requires action on our part is never helpful. Research has shown that people who do this regularly end up not coping as well.

Studies of both college students and sick older adults demonstrate that those who approach their problems by avoidance and denial experience less well-being overall, compared to those who face their problems.

2. Lift it. After facing up to the real facts of what is happening in your life or someone else’s, or in the conditions around you, and having done everything you know or can do with the help of thers, you must then lift these facts above yourself to God in prayer.

At that point you make a full and complete disclosure of your needs. It is helpful to name them one by one. God does not need this recitation, but doing so strengthens us. We admit to ourselves that we cannot do it alone and we are asking God for help.

3. Commit it. Having faced it and lifted it to God, we commit it. We take it out of our hands and hand it over to God.

The solution to the problem will be through us from God’s divine will for our lives. This commitment should be without any reserves. It is handed over in faith that God will handle it.

4. Release it. Having faced it, lifted it, and committed it, we must release it. We may not be able to forget it, but we should release it and no longer worry about it.

Eto na naman po ako...
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Hell's bells I think I'm...

Just finished playing Metallica's Nothing Else Matters, Goodbye Girl by Hootie and the Blowfish and Jason Wade's You Belong To Me nang nakangiti, nakatingin sa kawalan, sabay buntong hininga. Yup, eto na naman po ako, tinamaan na naman ng magaling...Wala talagang kadala-dala ano?

Simple lang ang dasal ko, kung hindi man kami sabay na nakakita ng kidlat, sana hindi ako masyadong magtagal sa "i'm floating, i'm floating" stage na ito. Para hindi mahirap mag move-on, para hindi ganun kasakit, at para naman hindi tuluyang masira ang paniniwala ko sa love.

Hindi na kasi ako naniniwala sa mga kwentong ever-after, sabi nga ni kuya andoy, "of little faith" na raw ako. Hindi naman siguro. Natauhan na lang that the perfect guy doesn't exist. Merong Mr. Right, but he's going to come with flaws and imperfections that I'm gonna have to learn to accept, adjust to and deal with.

Hindi ko rin ma-explain eh, I hardly know anything about this person, pero siguro nga may moment na nagtugma ang alignment ng sun, moon at stars at nakita ko siya sa eksaktong oras na yun. Hmm, kelan? may isa o dalawang linggo na siguro, na confirm ko lang sa sarili ko nung Wednesday.

Aminado po akong importante na siya sa akin. Naku!!!! Kapag minalas malas, mahal ko na nga yata. Kaya abot abot lalo ang pagdarasal ko. Please Lord, matauhan na sana agad ako kung katangahan na naman itong ginagawa ko!

Seriously, hindi po ako takot magmahal. Baka pagod lang saka medyo jaded na from too close encounters with certified assholes. One thing's for sure, this one doesn't come with any illusions.

Basta free fall and enjoy the rush.

Angel's LSS: Nothing Else Matters
Silverscreen Pick: a movie in my head
Differential Diagnosis: infatuated

Of Love and other Disasters...
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Funny how people reacted to my last blog post...parang mas excited pa kayo sa akin ma-inlove ha! Pero ang mas funny talaga, kung gaano kabilis sagutin ni Lord ang mga prayers ko. Siguro, minutes after posting that entry, the person concerned and I had merienda sa pantry and well, guess what, may girlfriend po siya.

Not that my dream bubble burst. Crush ko pa din si A, and I think he and I will become good friends kasi magkasundo kami talaga. Mas na-amuse lang ako sa turn of events. Of course, ngayon kaya ko nang sabihing amused na lang ako, pero nung weekend medyo disappointed din ako at sad kasi parang another failed exercise na naman ito before it even began.

"Of Love and other Disasters"...yan ang title ng ginawang design cover ng friend kong si Hanna para sa compilation ng mga poems at essays ko. Sobrang bagay yata kasi more or less yun naman ang recurring theme ng mga pinagsusulat ko.

Oh well, siguro nga talagang the good guys are either married, gay or taken. So balik tayo sa paghihintay ng kidlat...

frozen lips

awaiting

prince spring

An Angel in Disguise
Posted in




By Chandrika Bhaskar

I have been a writer and a publisher of children's magazines for a decade. At one time, during the initial years, things were not so rosy. The bills were piling up, sales had stopped due to some political problem of which we knew nothing, and I was hard put to think of how to maintain my staff.

When I was absolutely on my last leg, I gave my personal God, who had got me through so many crises in my life, an ultimatum. "God," I said, "if you want to help me, this is just the time."

Later that day, I received a call from a construction agency. My building had just sprung some leaks and I had been looking for an expert to help me fix the problem. The caller said that he would like to meet me that day. Pre-occupied as I was, I felt a strange urge to ask him to come.

As soon as the elderly gentleman arrived, he walked purposefully to the terrace, looked at the problem, and promised to send in a price quote for the repairs within a couple of hours. As we walked down the staircase, he casually asked me about the company. I mentioned the magazine and the fact that it was an educational effort, meant to promote values among children. As we reached the ground floor where my office was located, he asked, "May I have a look at the magazine?"

I invited him in, picked out a couple of back issues and handed them to him. He did not seem to be the kind who would have young children, so I thought he was just being polite to impress a prospective client. Imagine my surprise when he said, "I am on the board of directors of three schools. We are looking for books like these to promote general knowledge among children. Could I have a few?"

Suddenly getting interested, I asked, "A few? You mean, a few dozen?" "No," he said, "a few thousand."

My mouth fell open and my eyes must have popped out. I must have looked like a goldfish gasping for breath. I told him to give me the exact number he wanted.

Miracle of miracles! It was exactly the number we still had in stock. The he said, "You can make the delivery within a week. Here is the check amount. You can cash it right away."

I had tears in my eyes as I accepted it from him. The amount covered the costs of every bill I needed to pay, with even a little left over to stash away. I made the delivery of the magazines within a day.

But, you know something? The man never ever sent the price quote for the repairs to my roof. I wonder sometimes whether that was on his agenda at all. Sometimes, I am convinced the Lord does come to us in strange ways, in strange shapes. If only we knew how to look.

                                           ***

For daily need there is daily grace; for sudden need, sudden grace, and for overwhelming need, overwhelming grace. -John Blanchard

Strange Fits of Passion
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3.29 pm...sleepy at the office. We had a power interruption during lunch break so Hanna and I went out to make the most out of the downtine---we got a pedicure. My toes are painted a shining white and my soles are still blushing from Jane's foot spa and massage last night.

Hmm, I never realized I had a foot fetish. Lately, I've been resorting to foot massages and pedicures at least once every week---just to diffuse tense nerves. There's nothing as relaxing as having someone rub away all the aches and pains at the end of a long, tiring week.

We're done with the company bowling tournament...now it's full blown Christmas party fever. This is my last stint as events coordinator for all three of our companies this year, but I can already foretell that this is going to be the biggest headache of them all.

Last night at ten pm, I was still checking out possible venues and cooking up "themes". Finally settling for Asia's Best, I figure going oriental will complement the garden/zen setting of Palmier. If we do settle for that place.

Strange really what a foot massage can do to one's equilibrium...especially if one goes home to a room lit by votive candles and you sleep with rose-scented incense.

People around me have been experiencing strange fits of passion. I thought at first that it had something to do with the full moon, or the drop in temperature during night time. Now, I do not dare ask why. All I can do is write about it...really.

Speaking of which, I've been unable to bleed a poem lately. I hope the muse visits me tonight. It's been a while.

24/7 Reading List: Strange Fits of Passion by Anita Shreve
Differential Diagnosis: weird

Mid-Week Crises
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Message to my co-organizer for this year's activities: stop whining and start working with what's between your ears.

Sorry to bitch this early. For someone whose patience extends to the moon and back, I have a very low tolerance level for stupidity. Yup, there's only so much I'm willing to take from people who walk around with blank expressions on their faces. Like Duh! Sayang naman yang utak mo my dear, pwede mong ibenta yan ng mahal kasi hardly used!

12:57 pm --I have just come back from ocular visits to Bellevue Hotel in Alabang and Palmier (for the nth time na ha!) with our liaison officer and my co-organizer who was whining non-stop the entire time we were out. She's three months pregnant you see, and I've been doing my best to understand her and cut her as much slack as I can, pero minsan para talagang hindi siya makapag decide on her own...maski sa kaliit-liitang bagay she would turn to me. Arrgghh! I really hate that pa naman.

The only good thing that resulted from that was being late for lunch and running into 'A' at the pantry. And so we found ourselves alone again...*kilig*  Masarap siyang kausap, may sense saka may sense of humor. Kaso mo nga "taken" na, dibale okay naman siyang ka berks at kuya...

Hmm, still on the kuya issue, I received an invite to go out with Ronald, one of my original big brothers during our high school days, via Friendster. (Mahal ko na talaga ng taong naka isip gumawa ng friendster!) I haven't seen Ron in ages, and we do have a lot to catch up on. Sa kaniyang kasalanan kung bakit nasanay ako ng may kuyang kinukulit, inaasar at kinukunsumi. Hehehe.

May sakit ang dalawang big brothers and friends ko...si Jheric at si Kiko, parehong may lovenat, hahaha! Pagaling kayo mga mahal...

Still no poems last night. Nagtatampo na nga ba ang musa? Sana wag naman niya akong tikisin ng matagal. Mahirap ang buhay na walang tula.

Kimchi Thoughts
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Moral lesson: spicy tamarind and kimchi do not make up a dinner meal.

I am not trying to kill myself nor am I on some kind of  fad diet. It just so happened that the first thing I could sink my braced teeth into was a pack of spicy tamarind when I stepped out of the gym last night. I was so hungry because my trainer ( I now have personal trainer aside from my boxing coach, so now there are two guys beating me up four nights a week!) didn't let me go until past 8 in the evening.

Cruising by BF Homes on a rainy night, I saw the Korean Grocery store still open, it was already 10.30, and all I could do was pick up a container of kimchi, a 50-pc bag of dumplings and a couple of ramen. I was half asleep by the time the cashier was ringing up my purchases. In short, I was too tired to even boil water to steam them dumplings when I got home. 

I did take a couple of forkfuls of kimchi  though, and downed it with a glass of milk before collapsing into bed. Just so I didn't go to sleep on an empty stomach and rouse the anger of my lola who used to scare us with stories that your soul would go out of your body if you go to sleep hungry. The spirit is said to prowl in the kitchen and if you're malas enough to get  caught inside the rice pot, you wouldn't wake up the next day. Patay kang bata ka!

It was still raining non-stop when I woke up 30 mins ahead of schedule. That kind of day I'd rather spend buried in between fresh sheets and a comforter is the day I need to prepare a series of news bits from Europe and Ireland for one week's worth of web uploads. Haay, I wasn't born rich so I gotta earn my keep.

So eto, I have a steaming tumbler of mocha java beside me as I furiously comb google and yahoo for any and all kinds of info I could use. I also have my earphones on and I'm playing French Cafe' music to drown out the sound of the rain---it would surely put me to sleep and that's the last thing I need right now.

In an hour and a half I would be watching Grey's Anatomy, and hopefully, get to read a little more of "The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck before the day ends. After that, its boxing and running and then Church...I know...I operate on a tight schedule. It keeps me sane.