will this get easier?
is that the point?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
peta
romulus d’great. saw it yesterday with oggie. naku. nakatuwa. laughing, laughing. it was good to laugh. the English subtitles hardly did the translation justice. how do you translate an inflection? or the raise of an eyebrow? or the pointing with your lips? or a head toss? or swish of hips? or a deep inhaler pump? or the peppering of everyday, conversational, “street” tagalog? idiomatic expressions, if you want to get technical. my first play here in the Philippines. certainly not my last.
i understand the immediacy of the theater. or at least i am beginning to. can see why it connects people. can see how it can speak to the masses. why it should even. how it could really play a central role in the Philippine revolution. the relationship between stage people and audience is palpable. can see why as an actor, the stage is more real. how film can be plastic. literally and figuratively. krystal and i will eventually do our two woman show. looking forward to that. my latent thespian will finally get a chance to claim her place.
i understand the immediacy of the theater. or at least i am beginning to. can see why it connects people. can see how it can speak to the masses. why it should even. how it could really play a central role in the Philippine revolution. the relationship between stage people and audience is palpable. can see why as an actor, the stage is more real. how film can be plastic. literally and figuratively. krystal and i will eventually do our two woman show. looking forward to that. my latent thespian will finally get a chance to claim her place.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
vajra hell
the last few weeks, i have been synthesizing a lot of learnings, amidst grief and explosions.
the weeklong seminar with niconar perlas at st. scho’s helped. freedom. kalayaan. at the end of the day, this is what it is about. it has to be. otherwise my work does not come from sustainable place. it won’t come from an authentic place.
and if we are not aware of this responsibility, then we are planting the seeds of violence. and if we are aware of this and not taking steps toward owning that responsibility, then we are lost indeed.
vajra hell.
and if we are aware of this responsibility, moving towards embodying it with every action, with every intention, loving ourselves through the highs and lows, through the triumphs and the failures, especially the failures, well then, kapatid kita.
the seminar, the grief, the processing, the witnessing, the holding patterns, the laughter, the bonding, the reading, the emails, the frustration, the coping, the eating, the reflecting, the singing, the listening, the hearing, the worry, the release, the brooding, they have led me here to this point.
and this is a good place to be. i really am a weaver.
my most creative moments are in the early morning.
it has always been like that.
in cultivating a creative life, i’ll take care to remember this.
the weeklong seminar with niconar perlas at st. scho’s helped. freedom. kalayaan. at the end of the day, this is what it is about. it has to be. otherwise my work does not come from sustainable place. it won’t come from an authentic place.
and if we are not aware of this responsibility, then we are planting the seeds of violence. and if we are aware of this and not taking steps toward owning that responsibility, then we are lost indeed.
vajra hell.
and if we are aware of this responsibility, moving towards embodying it with every action, with every intention, loving ourselves through the highs and lows, through the triumphs and the failures, especially the failures, well then, kapatid kita.
the seminar, the grief, the processing, the witnessing, the holding patterns, the laughter, the bonding, the reading, the emails, the frustration, the coping, the eating, the reflecting, the singing, the listening, the hearing, the worry, the release, the brooding, they have led me here to this point.
and this is a good place to be. i really am a weaver.
my most creative moments are in the early morning.
it has always been like that.
in cultivating a creative life, i’ll take care to remember this.
kalayaan
i have a free relationship with innerdance.
i have a free relationship with spiritual science.
i have a free relationship with fearless meditation.
that is the difference.
it was not always that way.
it's been a journey, a lakaran, a process.
a holding tight, tight.
and a willing release.
not a careless casting off ha.
a thoughtful release.
a reverent release.
one that is close enough so that, when appropriate, the teachings can be called upon.
and, one that is far enough to allow for proper perspective.
kapwa.
i see the other in myself.
i see myself in the other.
i see the challenges that Kalipimu is struggling with. takes one to know one. it is a good mirror. it wasn’t that long ago that i was in that same boat. or at least a very similar one. to apparently stumble upon such a profound practice. to allow it inside. to embody it. to allow it to transform you. shedding off masks that no longer serve. it's like you don't know where it ends and you begin. it's easy to get lost in the gratitude and the speed and the form. and the politics. and the personalities. and the politics of personalities. it is easy to hold disdain for the group process.
eternally grateful to my Center. relationship!!! my warriorship training continues to help guide me. this fearless life i lead did not happen by accident. and despite my deep, deep love and appreciation for my Center, i intuitively, i knew i had to leave it. honestly, it was like i needed to know that i could. that i would allow myself. that i would love myself that much. that i would love my Center that much.
in a way, i think i was getting too comfortable. could rest on my laurels even. i could have stayed. and could have continued doing amazing, amazing work. noble work. could have been lulled into believing that i had found paradise. to the untrained eye, everything would appear smooth, perfect.
and there would be this part of me that would wonder...
are you here because you want to be here?
are you here because you are scared to venture out?
are you using your spiritual practice as another way to distract?
i remember there was an internal negotiation.
karen:
you could stay. noble work is being done, right? it will be so hard for everyone if you go. just stay. your Community needs you. your Teacher needs you. the Center is at a critical point. stay. stay. stay. you know how this goes. it's safe here.
Muki:
yes, you could stay. and then what? what are you avoiding, dearest? there is something for us in the philippines. there is no shortage of noble work to be done. the pain you will feel in leaving is the suffering that leads to freedom. the pain you will feel and cause in staying out of fear is the suffering that leads to more suffering. you know what to do. you even know that you can do it well. this is a good teaching for you. this is a good teaching for the Community. think, dearest, when you return, it will indeed be from a powerful place. you will return of your own volition. it will be because you freely chose it. this is how revolutions are sustained. it is a burn that starts slow, low. little by little. tend this fire carefully and patiently, so that it can burn bright and true and long. master this art of firetending.
Inang Bayan has called me here to learn this, too. upon taking my leave, she encouraged me to do it responsibly.
she asked,
“can you even leave? Muki, can you leave this Home? this place where your formal spiritual training has incarnated? where you have a Sangha that can hold you? where you have a Teacher who will never leave you? where you have a strong and sound container for Practice? where you are already seen as a leader, a healer? can you leave as your Community approaches a milestone point in her evolution?”
i remember thinking,
“Ina, i don’t know if i can leave, though every fiber in my body says it is time to try. i know that warriorship is my path. the Mitra said that there are many ways down the mountain. that the whole point is NOT to reach the top and stay there. after reaching the pinnacle, a bodhisattva comes back down to point the way. i only know one way. and, if i am to become a Teacher, too, it would serve to know what other paths exist. so, yes, Ina, i can leave. it is time for me to do so.”
she said,
“can you leave well? can you honor yourself, the Dharma, your Teacher, your Sangha by leading by example? can you be honest about your process? transparent, even? can you privilege being in relationship above all else? can you hand over your responsibilities in a good way? can you find the courage within you to say the things that need to be said and hold things that need to be held? can you tolerate the pain of separating from these precious Beings? can you tolerate the pain others feel as you leave? can you learn to trust the wisdom teachings offered to you by your Community with humility, with grace?”
i answered,
“Ina, i am determined to leave well. it is painful, yes. this is an important teaching; otherwise, my spirituality will be my new prison. Mitra has always said to self liberate, even from the antidote.”
self liberate, even from the antidote.
i feel like i've finally arrived in the Philippines.
***
note:
Muki is my nickname at my Center.
it is short for Muktayani, which means "vehicle of freedom" in sanskrit.
this dharma name was given to me by my Teacher when i formally took up the Student Path.
i have a free relationship with spiritual science.
i have a free relationship with fearless meditation.
that is the difference.
it was not always that way.
it's been a journey, a lakaran, a process.
a holding tight, tight.
and a willing release.
not a careless casting off ha.
a thoughtful release.
a reverent release.
one that is close enough so that, when appropriate, the teachings can be called upon.
and, one that is far enough to allow for proper perspective.
kapwa.
i see the other in myself.
i see myself in the other.
i see the challenges that Kalipimu is struggling with. takes one to know one. it is a good mirror. it wasn’t that long ago that i was in that same boat. or at least a very similar one. to apparently stumble upon such a profound practice. to allow it inside. to embody it. to allow it to transform you. shedding off masks that no longer serve. it's like you don't know where it ends and you begin. it's easy to get lost in the gratitude and the speed and the form. and the politics. and the personalities. and the politics of personalities. it is easy to hold disdain for the group process.
eternally grateful to my Center. relationship!!! my warriorship training continues to help guide me. this fearless life i lead did not happen by accident. and despite my deep, deep love and appreciation for my Center, i intuitively, i knew i had to leave it. honestly, it was like i needed to know that i could. that i would allow myself. that i would love myself that much. that i would love my Center that much.
in a way, i think i was getting too comfortable. could rest on my laurels even. i could have stayed. and could have continued doing amazing, amazing work. noble work. could have been lulled into believing that i had found paradise. to the untrained eye, everything would appear smooth, perfect.
and there would be this part of me that would wonder...
are you here because you want to be here?
are you here because you are scared to venture out?
are you using your spiritual practice as another way to distract?
i remember there was an internal negotiation.
karen:
you could stay. noble work is being done, right? it will be so hard for everyone if you go. just stay. your Community needs you. your Teacher needs you. the Center is at a critical point. stay. stay. stay. you know how this goes. it's safe here.
Muki:
yes, you could stay. and then what? what are you avoiding, dearest? there is something for us in the philippines. there is no shortage of noble work to be done. the pain you will feel in leaving is the suffering that leads to freedom. the pain you will feel and cause in staying out of fear is the suffering that leads to more suffering. you know what to do. you even know that you can do it well. this is a good teaching for you. this is a good teaching for the Community. think, dearest, when you return, it will indeed be from a powerful place. you will return of your own volition. it will be because you freely chose it. this is how revolutions are sustained. it is a burn that starts slow, low. little by little. tend this fire carefully and patiently, so that it can burn bright and true and long. master this art of firetending.
Inang Bayan has called me here to learn this, too. upon taking my leave, she encouraged me to do it responsibly.
she asked,
“can you even leave? Muki, can you leave this Home? this place where your formal spiritual training has incarnated? where you have a Sangha that can hold you? where you have a Teacher who will never leave you? where you have a strong and sound container for Practice? where you are already seen as a leader, a healer? can you leave as your Community approaches a milestone point in her evolution?”
i remember thinking,
“Ina, i don’t know if i can leave, though every fiber in my body says it is time to try. i know that warriorship is my path. the Mitra said that there are many ways down the mountain. that the whole point is NOT to reach the top and stay there. after reaching the pinnacle, a bodhisattva comes back down to point the way. i only know one way. and, if i am to become a Teacher, too, it would serve to know what other paths exist. so, yes, Ina, i can leave. it is time for me to do so.”
she said,
“can you leave well? can you honor yourself, the Dharma, your Teacher, your Sangha by leading by example? can you be honest about your process? transparent, even? can you privilege being in relationship above all else? can you hand over your responsibilities in a good way? can you find the courage within you to say the things that need to be said and hold things that need to be held? can you tolerate the pain of separating from these precious Beings? can you tolerate the pain others feel as you leave? can you learn to trust the wisdom teachings offered to you by your Community with humility, with grace?”
i answered,
“Ina, i am determined to leave well. it is painful, yes. this is an important teaching; otherwise, my spirituality will be my new prison. Mitra has always said to self liberate, even from the antidote.”
self liberate, even from the antidote.
i feel like i've finally arrived in the Philippines.
***
note:
Muki is my nickname at my Center.
it is short for Muktayani, which means "vehicle of freedom" in sanskrit.
this dharma name was given to me by my Teacher when i formally took up the Student Path.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Vitality
from astro.com:
Valid during many months: This influence stimulates your physical vitality, giving you the chance to work hard and accomplish much. Your health is good during this time, and you are able to approach everything you do with vigor and self-confidence. And this carries over to the psychological level as well, as an ability to assert yourself toward others and stand up for your views in any controversy. New opportunities to be personally effective often open up under this influence. For example, in your job you might get a chance to take on an important responsibility, which will lead later to a promotion or increased salary. This is a good time to demonstrate that you can work on your own and do it well. But you can also work with groups now, because your energies complement the group's energies.
activity period from 17 October 2007 until end of March 2008.
Madapdap, here i come!
Valid during many months: This influence stimulates your physical vitality, giving you the chance to work hard and accomplish much. Your health is good during this time, and you are able to approach everything you do with vigor and self-confidence. And this carries over to the psychological level as well, as an ability to assert yourself toward others and stand up for your views in any controversy. New opportunities to be personally effective often open up under this influence. For example, in your job you might get a chance to take on an important responsibility, which will lead later to a promotion or increased salary. This is a good time to demonstrate that you can work on your own and do it well. But you can also work with groups now, because your energies complement the group's energies.
activity period from 17 October 2007 until end of March 2008.
Madapdap, here i come!
glorietta 2
a bomb went off in makati yesterday. it happened at the mall near shangri-la. it happened while i was at my friend, rowell's, voice recital at UST. while i was feeling swoozy and wooed, temporarily transported to the world of spurned lovers and longing, a bomb ripped through three floors, killing nine, wounding more than a hundred.
oblivious of this, and still high from the concert afterwards, another friend, reimon, and his family dropped me off in quiapo.
i wanted to go to the bead store. i had gone there once before with ged.
for those that don't know, quiapo is a bit of a madhouse. it's a mass of outdoor stands that sell everything from herbs, to fish, to pirated dvds, porn, santo ninos, anting-anting, flowers, fruits, vegetables, underwear, plates, pots, pans, tabos, jewelry, baskets, bags, dishtowels, tsinelas... basically, anything that you may need and more of what you don't, you can find at quiapo.
it is teaming with people and vendors and palm readers. and pickpockets. and beggers. and life. in addition to the stands, there are stores selling electronics, plumbing, eyeglasses, cellphones, umbrellas...
the air is thick with smoke and smog. there are vendors selling all sorts of candles outside of quiapo church. each color means something. some are the shape of people. people buy color combos depending on what they are praying for. the people shaped ones, i think, are used in determining what parts of a person's body is ailing. or is it that when you burn them, the illness is, in effect, burned off, helping a person to heal?
anyway, there are dozens of candle vendors, burning candles that give off thick black smoke. the streets are jammed busy with jeeps and cars billowing out black diesel exhaust. depending on where you are, you are lucky if you can smell the sweet sampaguita wreath "necklaces." or sometimes it is the sharp tang of bangus marinated in vinegar and garlic. or the thick oily smell of frying calamares and fish balls. and sweat. and melting wax. and diesel fumes. horns honking. motorcycles rumbling. catholic mass blaring from the speakers outside the church. the cd stalls blaring the latest pop songs. the dvd stalls blaring the latest movies.
bodies bumping up against each other.
(is my wallet still there?)
often, my senses feel assaulted.
trash litters the sidewalks and gutters. half crushed plastic cups with a few strings of buko stubbornly hanging on, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, banana peels, discarded bamboo skewers still slick from oil and flavored suka, plastic bags of every color...
i had no idea where the bead store was. i wandered the streets for a bit. nothing looked familiar. my backpack was a frontpack, as it always is in quiapo or on the mrt or lrt. street after crooked street lined with stalls. i thought, if i get lost, i just need to find my way back to the church. kids playing in the street. women chatting. men staring. tricycles, pedicabs, taxis, cars, weaving in out pedestrian traffic. no street signs. they wouldn't help anyway.
after twenty minutes of wandering off in the wrong direction, i found my way back to the church and started over. don't ask me how, but amidst all the chaos, i ended up finding the bead store. milagro!
bought some beads and things. am determined to learn how to bead. it's the main livelihood project for the mothers in madapdap. must be a billion beads in this place. all kinds. pearls. wood. glass. crystal. agates. rocks. silver. brass. plastic. all shapes, sizes, colors. and then there's the different clasps. and wires. and fasteners. and crimps. and chains. and i don't know even all the names of the things that i saw. i was laughing because i was buying this stuff and i don't even know how it all fits together, yet. ah well, that's how my life is here. jump in the middle, find a beginning, a new middle, and then an end. will assemble all the parts, make do, and weave it all together. that feels familiar, too.
while i was perusing all of this, my friend alan, texted. hadn't seen him in four months. he's been so busy with film school.
while deciding between this shade pink or that shade brown, we agreed to meet up for dinner. this is all done by text. at a minimum, it's at least six back and forths.
after negotiating, we decided to meet at greens in quezon city. we considered cubao. we considered makati.
after figuring out the underground passageways and figuring which jeep to take back to quezon city, wondering how long it will take me to get to greens at 5pm on a friday, i settled into my seat.
then alan texted, "good thing we didn't go to makati. there was a bombing at glorietta. 7 dead, 80 injured."
i felt sick.
my throat was already dry.
i felt scared.
i looked around.
mind racing.
naku. bombing. it's so close. i could have been there today. wait, wasn't reimon and his family going there after they dropped me off? god, i hope not. what about gayia? and rofel? i was just there not two weeks ago, eating thai food with nathanel and troy. shit, i was just at quiapo. if there were a bombing there...naku. mass casualties.
i looked around at my fellow passengers. did anyone know what had happened? everyone looked, well, tired. it was 5pm on a friday. paranoia started sinking in. i have to get out of manila. the province is looking better and better. who is on this jeep with me? i sized everyone up. looked at their packages. what's in that bag? what about that box? are you a bomber? are you going to hurt me? don't want to be out in public. it's not safe. maybe i should cancel dinner with alan. naku. it's not safe. i'm not safe.
stop.
please.
please stop.
this is not useful.
getting lost or being swept away in this line of paranoid inquiry will not help anyone, anything...
it is the suffering that leads to more suffering.
exhale.
i went to dinner. alan and i caught each other up on our lives. we talked briefly about the bombing. around it actually. i texted my friend reimon. he texted back that he and his family are fine.
still moving through these feelings about what has happened.
there's talk that the bomb was made of C4 explosive, whose access is limited only to the philippine military here. there is talk that the bomb was planted by the government because of all the scrutiny that malacanang has been under this week regarding bribes and corruption in congress.
who knows?
i don't.
this bombing feels awfully close though.
closer than usual.
closer than i'm used to.
so, this is what that feels like.
oblivious of this, and still high from the concert afterwards, another friend, reimon, and his family dropped me off in quiapo.
i wanted to go to the bead store. i had gone there once before with ged.
for those that don't know, quiapo is a bit of a madhouse. it's a mass of outdoor stands that sell everything from herbs, to fish, to pirated dvds, porn, santo ninos, anting-anting, flowers, fruits, vegetables, underwear, plates, pots, pans, tabos, jewelry, baskets, bags, dishtowels, tsinelas... basically, anything that you may need and more of what you don't, you can find at quiapo.
it is teaming with people and vendors and palm readers. and pickpockets. and beggers. and life. in addition to the stands, there are stores selling electronics, plumbing, eyeglasses, cellphones, umbrellas...
the air is thick with smoke and smog. there are vendors selling all sorts of candles outside of quiapo church. each color means something. some are the shape of people. people buy color combos depending on what they are praying for. the people shaped ones, i think, are used in determining what parts of a person's body is ailing. or is it that when you burn them, the illness is, in effect, burned off, helping a person to heal?
anyway, there are dozens of candle vendors, burning candles that give off thick black smoke. the streets are jammed busy with jeeps and cars billowing out black diesel exhaust. depending on where you are, you are lucky if you can smell the sweet sampaguita wreath "necklaces." or sometimes it is the sharp tang of bangus marinated in vinegar and garlic. or the thick oily smell of frying calamares and fish balls. and sweat. and melting wax. and diesel fumes. horns honking. motorcycles rumbling. catholic mass blaring from the speakers outside the church. the cd stalls blaring the latest pop songs. the dvd stalls blaring the latest movies.
bodies bumping up against each other.
(is my wallet still there?)
often, my senses feel assaulted.
trash litters the sidewalks and gutters. half crushed plastic cups with a few strings of buko stubbornly hanging on, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, banana peels, discarded bamboo skewers still slick from oil and flavored suka, plastic bags of every color...
i had no idea where the bead store was. i wandered the streets for a bit. nothing looked familiar. my backpack was a frontpack, as it always is in quiapo or on the mrt or lrt. street after crooked street lined with stalls. i thought, if i get lost, i just need to find my way back to the church. kids playing in the street. women chatting. men staring. tricycles, pedicabs, taxis, cars, weaving in out pedestrian traffic. no street signs. they wouldn't help anyway.
after twenty minutes of wandering off in the wrong direction, i found my way back to the church and started over. don't ask me how, but amidst all the chaos, i ended up finding the bead store. milagro!
bought some beads and things. am determined to learn how to bead. it's the main livelihood project for the mothers in madapdap. must be a billion beads in this place. all kinds. pearls. wood. glass. crystal. agates. rocks. silver. brass. plastic. all shapes, sizes, colors. and then there's the different clasps. and wires. and fasteners. and crimps. and chains. and i don't know even all the names of the things that i saw. i was laughing because i was buying this stuff and i don't even know how it all fits together, yet. ah well, that's how my life is here. jump in the middle, find a beginning, a new middle, and then an end. will assemble all the parts, make do, and weave it all together. that feels familiar, too.
while i was perusing all of this, my friend alan, texted. hadn't seen him in four months. he's been so busy with film school.
while deciding between this shade pink or that shade brown, we agreed to meet up for dinner. this is all done by text. at a minimum, it's at least six back and forths.
after negotiating, we decided to meet at greens in quezon city. we considered cubao. we considered makati.
after figuring out the underground passageways and figuring which jeep to take back to quezon city, wondering how long it will take me to get to greens at 5pm on a friday, i settled into my seat.
then alan texted, "good thing we didn't go to makati. there was a bombing at glorietta. 7 dead, 80 injured."
i felt sick.
my throat was already dry.
i felt scared.
i looked around.
mind racing.
naku. bombing. it's so close. i could have been there today. wait, wasn't reimon and his family going there after they dropped me off? god, i hope not. what about gayia? and rofel? i was just there not two weeks ago, eating thai food with nathanel and troy. shit, i was just at quiapo. if there were a bombing there...naku. mass casualties.
i looked around at my fellow passengers. did anyone know what had happened? everyone looked, well, tired. it was 5pm on a friday. paranoia started sinking in. i have to get out of manila. the province is looking better and better. who is on this jeep with me? i sized everyone up. looked at their packages. what's in that bag? what about that box? are you a bomber? are you going to hurt me? don't want to be out in public. it's not safe. maybe i should cancel dinner with alan. naku. it's not safe. i'm not safe.
stop.
please.
please stop.
this is not useful.
getting lost or being swept away in this line of paranoid inquiry will not help anyone, anything...
it is the suffering that leads to more suffering.
exhale.
i went to dinner. alan and i caught each other up on our lives. we talked briefly about the bombing. around it actually. i texted my friend reimon. he texted back that he and his family are fine.
still moving through these feelings about what has happened.
there's talk that the bomb was made of C4 explosive, whose access is limited only to the philippine military here. there is talk that the bomb was planted by the government because of all the scrutiny that malacanang has been under this week regarding bribes and corruption in congress.
who knows?
i don't.
this bombing feels awfully close though.
closer than usual.
closer than i'm used to.
so, this is what that feels like.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Cez
been doing a lot of reading on warriorship lately. ironically, picked up a this book, "The Craft of the Warrior," by Robert L. Spencer, here in the Philippines, though it was published in Berkeley, CA. good stuff. familiar. getting that feeling again that affirming, confirming feeling again.
yes, dearest, everything in our your life has led you here.
right here to this point.
yep, everything. all of it. everything. all of it. everything. all of it.
feeling particularly restless this morning. emotional. undisciplined. like a trapped butterfly or hummingbird is in my chest. fluttering wings. attempts to break out. meeting resistance. temporarily stunned by the impact of hitting the wall everytime. getting up again. and, with each successive failed attempt, fluttering becomes less robust. tired.
am i the wall?
the butterfly?
the hummingbird?
the space in between?
the fatigue?
the getting up again?
the vessel?
the relationship between all of them?
yes.
everything.
all of it.
ugh. feel like sobbing.
and making a scene.
want everyone around me to know how this fluttering is difficult for me.
not only that, want them to suffer with me.
what is the teaching here?
what is it my body is trying to tell me?
have many emails to answer. many people i love are reaching out. want to connect, and i'm afraid to write them when i'm feeling this way. don't need to subject them to this. it's not that i have an image to protect. i just can't share this fluttering, in this moment, in a useful way. don't need to make my scene, their scene. that would be the suffering that leads to more suffering, and i will not participate in that. not anymore.
also, have a grant to write.
also, have a recital to attend.
also, have to get out of this duster.
skyped a few of the heavies this morning. the usual ones i turn to for comfort, solace.
not home.
not answering.
can't talk.
teachings here, too.
trying to use them to distract myself from this fluttering uneasiness.
dis-ease.
it was in the middle of a five minute conversation with my sister, Kath, that i realized that i was trying to distract myself from feeling these difficult feelings. trying to guise it in an innocent reaching out to my peeps.
that's when Cez, texted, out of the blue, "how've you been?"
stunned.
it was at that exact moment that i realized what i was doing.
those two events coincided.
syncronicity astounds.
texted back to her, "hello dear one. funny you should ask... caught me in a moment of self-doubt and trepidation. this will pass...trying to enjoy it even and find the teaching in it. how are you? where are you? singapore? love you and appreciate your reaching out."
notice: still trying to distract myself by asking about her.
she didn't take the bait, though.
she answered, "haha! felt something was up with you! good to be in moments of the abyss. there are angels around you dear friend. breathe gently."
and so, here.
the fluttering abated.
just a slight soreness for its absence.
(do i miss it?)
and an ache in my liver that is also dissolving.
then a tightness in my stomach.
go, go, friends.
until next time.
breathing gently, i feel these aches and pains melt away.
and i really do appreciate the fingerprints they leave on my consciousness.
thank you Cez.
yes, dearest, everything in our your life has led you here.
right here to this point.
yep, everything. all of it. everything. all of it. everything. all of it.
feeling particularly restless this morning. emotional. undisciplined. like a trapped butterfly or hummingbird is in my chest. fluttering wings. attempts to break out. meeting resistance. temporarily stunned by the impact of hitting the wall everytime. getting up again. and, with each successive failed attempt, fluttering becomes less robust. tired.
am i the wall?
the butterfly?
the hummingbird?
the space in between?
the fatigue?
the getting up again?
the vessel?
the relationship between all of them?
yes.
everything.
all of it.
ugh. feel like sobbing.
and making a scene.
want everyone around me to know how this fluttering is difficult for me.
not only that, want them to suffer with me.
what is the teaching here?
what is it my body is trying to tell me?
have many emails to answer. many people i love are reaching out. want to connect, and i'm afraid to write them when i'm feeling this way. don't need to subject them to this. it's not that i have an image to protect. i just can't share this fluttering, in this moment, in a useful way. don't need to make my scene, their scene. that would be the suffering that leads to more suffering, and i will not participate in that. not anymore.
also, have a grant to write.
also, have a recital to attend.
also, have to get out of this duster.
skyped a few of the heavies this morning. the usual ones i turn to for comfort, solace.
not home.
not answering.
can't talk.
teachings here, too.
trying to use them to distract myself from this fluttering uneasiness.
dis-ease.
it was in the middle of a five minute conversation with my sister, Kath, that i realized that i was trying to distract myself from feeling these difficult feelings. trying to guise it in an innocent reaching out to my peeps.
that's when Cez, texted, out of the blue, "how've you been?"
stunned.
it was at that exact moment that i realized what i was doing.
those two events coincided.
syncronicity astounds.
texted back to her, "hello dear one. funny you should ask... caught me in a moment of self-doubt and trepidation. this will pass...trying to enjoy it even and find the teaching in it. how are you? where are you? singapore? love you and appreciate your reaching out."
notice: still trying to distract myself by asking about her.
she didn't take the bait, though.
she answered, "haha! felt something was up with you! good to be in moments of the abyss. there are angels around you dear friend. breathe gently."
and so, here.
the fluttering abated.
just a slight soreness for its absence.
(do i miss it?)
and an ache in my liver that is also dissolving.
then a tightness in my stomach.
go, go, friends.
until next time.
breathing gently, i feel these aches and pains melt away.
and i really do appreciate the fingerprints they leave on my consciousness.
thank you Cez.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
transition is the norm.
"life is so precious. we can't waste a moment. whatever you are doing
right now, may it be in service of truly living your purpose. may it
be done with love, kindness, fierce compassion, honesty, and
integrity. may all our actions always come from this place."
i said that after my doggy, Rosie, died in 2006.
been moving through a lot of grief lately.
i marvel at how rich my life is.
had to say goodbye to some dear friends the other day.
justin went back to new york.
nathanel went to the visayas.
troy is off to spain and morocco.
joy to rizal province soon.
me off to pampanga maybe next week.
it was so painful because the connections are so very deep.
i've done this before.
when i moved to the Philippines, saying goodbye to my New Dharma Community was so very painful. and so very sweet.
i know this sweet painful place.
i think about my impromptu breakfast dates with my friend, Erica, right before i left. how we would talk about this grown-up kind of pain. this grown up kind of love over omelettes or arizmendi's. how short our time was together this time round. and so enriching.
i think about my friend, Vas, who was the first.
actually, a flood of images come to my brain.
they are all people.
all relationships.
this is what matters.
connections.
relationships.
how many dying people have i cared for in my life?
many.
when they are laying in their beds, dying, they aren't talking about their cars.
or their houses.
or their jewelry.
or their money.
they are talking about people they loved
people they love.
people they've wronged.
family.
kids.
lovers.
the regrets that they talk about are about the things left unsaid.
or the paths not taken.
how i used to hate working night shift in the icu.
sleep deprivation and depression proved not a good combo.
i appreciate those times now.
it is such an honor to be with people when they are at their most vulnerable.
to be let in, even if it is difficult or not wanted.
will never do shift work ever again, though, nights or otherwise.
how i used to hate being a nurse.
had so many beefs with my profession.
the back-biting. the passive aggression. the horizontal violence.
i appreciate that i am a nurse now.
i help people heal themselves.
am embracing my profession where she's at and will continue to help her move in the direction of wholeness.
if i hadn't gone through that experience, perhaps i wouldn't appreciate
how precious life is.
how precious relationships are.
how important it is to love and be loved.
how important it is to be impeccable.
how nothing lasts.
so enjoy it.
all of it.
don't waste time and energy picking and choosing.
all of it.
constant transition.
consistent transition.
i think it was my friend joseph that once wrote about enjoying the liminal spaces in his life.
tamang tama 'yun.
transition is the norm.
transition is the norm.
transition is the norm.
right now, may it be in service of truly living your purpose. may it
be done with love, kindness, fierce compassion, honesty, and
integrity. may all our actions always come from this place."
i said that after my doggy, Rosie, died in 2006.
been moving through a lot of grief lately.
i marvel at how rich my life is.
had to say goodbye to some dear friends the other day.
justin went back to new york.
nathanel went to the visayas.
troy is off to spain and morocco.
joy to rizal province soon.
me off to pampanga maybe next week.
it was so painful because the connections are so very deep.
i've done this before.
when i moved to the Philippines, saying goodbye to my New Dharma Community was so very painful. and so very sweet.
i know this sweet painful place.
i think about my impromptu breakfast dates with my friend, Erica, right before i left. how we would talk about this grown-up kind of pain. this grown up kind of love over omelettes or arizmendi's. how short our time was together this time round. and so enriching.
i think about my friend, Vas, who was the first.
actually, a flood of images come to my brain.
they are all people.
all relationships.
this is what matters.
connections.
relationships.
how many dying people have i cared for in my life?
many.
when they are laying in their beds, dying, they aren't talking about their cars.
or their houses.
or their jewelry.
or their money.
they are talking about people they loved
people they love.
people they've wronged.
family.
kids.
lovers.
the regrets that they talk about are about the things left unsaid.
or the paths not taken.
how i used to hate working night shift in the icu.
sleep deprivation and depression proved not a good combo.
i appreciate those times now.
it is such an honor to be with people when they are at their most vulnerable.
to be let in, even if it is difficult or not wanted.
will never do shift work ever again, though, nights or otherwise.
how i used to hate being a nurse.
had so many beefs with my profession.
the back-biting. the passive aggression. the horizontal violence.
i appreciate that i am a nurse now.
i help people heal themselves.
am embracing my profession where she's at and will continue to help her move in the direction of wholeness.
if i hadn't gone through that experience, perhaps i wouldn't appreciate
how precious life is.
how precious relationships are.
how important it is to love and be loved.
how important it is to be impeccable.
how nothing lasts.
so enjoy it.
all of it.
don't waste time and energy picking and choosing.
all of it.
constant transition.
consistent transition.
i think it was my friend joseph that once wrote about enjoying the liminal spaces in his life.
tamang tama 'yun.
transition is the norm.
transition is the norm.
transition is the norm.
ipis, revisited
saw an ipis outside of troy's room the other day.
didn't stomp on it.
just regarded it.
and walked on by.
whew.
if it were in his room, how would i react differently?
didn't stomp on it.
just regarded it.
and walked on by.
whew.
if it were in his room, how would i react differently?
Thursday, October 11, 2007
ipis
why do i hate cockroaches so much? specifically, ipis. the cockroaches here are pretty big. the size of hmmm, what? the size of your thumb. or the size of one of my eyeglass lenses. or the size of two quail eggs, end to end. and they are fast, too. whenever i see one, i kill it. automatically.
when i see one, it's like an alarm goes off in my head. a panic. i'm amused as i type this now, the absurdity of it. but in the moment, it's like i really go a bit crazy. berserker fashion. my knee-jerk response is to kill. and kill like my life depended on it. where does this response come from? did it come from me? is there something about ipis that reflects parts of myself that i abhor? is this evolutionary? is it inherited? from who? is it bugs, in general? what?
i associate ipis with being dirty. or disease carrying. googled them and yes, indeed they are potential vectors for disease. they also are a contributing cause for asthma in children who live in urban areas. but, this urge to obliterate them goes deeper, i think.
there is something in me that detests them. i'm afraid of them, too. is that it?
i moved most of my things to the clinic earlier this week. i didn't move in all the way because the water hasn't been connected yet. i walked into the kitchen area, and there were ten ipis on the wall. i froze. never met a whole gang of them before. and then, they were on the wall, not on the floor. and then i thought, "naku. there's not even any food in this kitchen yet..." and then i thought, "shit, i'm supposed to leave all my stuff here."
the way most people get rid of ipis here in the philippines is to spray chemical pesticides. after three stores, i found some and bought a can and sprayed. i don't like using chemicals. and it made me nervous that the directions on the can said something like spray and then run. don't inhale the fumes. wash your hands with soap, etc. etc.
so, i sprayed the gang of ten. they scattered and then turned over on their backs, dying. i think i read somewhere that pesticide is neurotoxin. it was terrible watching them die. they looked like they were in pain. a couple i just squashed because they were taking so long to die. this whole affair was disturbing for me, and in the same disturbing vein, the smell of the stuff is actually faintly pleasant. there's a lot there.
and then, as the ten scattered, i could hear the fifty that were hiding in cracks and crevices start running for their lives. i could hear them on the roof. then there was a wave of them that came down from the roof into the kitchen. i sprayed and sprayed. it was getting more and more personal.
so, i killed a ton of ipis. i feel badly about it. it's launched me into this thinking process about arrogance and chemicals. i wonder how we can co-exist in this clinic. this clinic is a healing center of sorts. my primary clients are children. children with cerebral palsy, a neuromuscular condition. they have cerebral palsy because of their exposure to toxic waste left by the american military.
how have i contributed to the violence in the world by using this spray? how much damage can be unlearned by my moving through this process? how much more if i share it with you?
when i see one, it's like an alarm goes off in my head. a panic. i'm amused as i type this now, the absurdity of it. but in the moment, it's like i really go a bit crazy. berserker fashion. my knee-jerk response is to kill. and kill like my life depended on it. where does this response come from? did it come from me? is there something about ipis that reflects parts of myself that i abhor? is this evolutionary? is it inherited? from who? is it bugs, in general? what?
i associate ipis with being dirty. or disease carrying. googled them and yes, indeed they are potential vectors for disease. they also are a contributing cause for asthma in children who live in urban areas. but, this urge to obliterate them goes deeper, i think.
there is something in me that detests them. i'm afraid of them, too. is that it?
i moved most of my things to the clinic earlier this week. i didn't move in all the way because the water hasn't been connected yet. i walked into the kitchen area, and there were ten ipis on the wall. i froze. never met a whole gang of them before. and then, they were on the wall, not on the floor. and then i thought, "naku. there's not even any food in this kitchen yet..." and then i thought, "shit, i'm supposed to leave all my stuff here."
the way most people get rid of ipis here in the philippines is to spray chemical pesticides. after three stores, i found some and bought a can and sprayed. i don't like using chemicals. and it made me nervous that the directions on the can said something like spray and then run. don't inhale the fumes. wash your hands with soap, etc. etc.
so, i sprayed the gang of ten. they scattered and then turned over on their backs, dying. i think i read somewhere that pesticide is neurotoxin. it was terrible watching them die. they looked like they were in pain. a couple i just squashed because they were taking so long to die. this whole affair was disturbing for me, and in the same disturbing vein, the smell of the stuff is actually faintly pleasant. there's a lot there.
and then, as the ten scattered, i could hear the fifty that were hiding in cracks and crevices start running for their lives. i could hear them on the roof. then there was a wave of them that came down from the roof into the kitchen. i sprayed and sprayed. it was getting more and more personal.
so, i killed a ton of ipis. i feel badly about it. it's launched me into this thinking process about arrogance and chemicals. i wonder how we can co-exist in this clinic. this clinic is a healing center of sorts. my primary clients are children. children with cerebral palsy, a neuromuscular condition. they have cerebral palsy because of their exposure to toxic waste left by the american military.
how have i contributed to the violence in the world by using this spray? how much damage can be unlearned by my moving through this process? how much more if i share it with you?
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
sleep, interrupted
i’ve been feeling ill the last three days. fever, chills, diarrhea. also, on my moon…this doesn’t help things. or maybe it does. double cleansing. triple cleansing if you count the diarrhea. (note: i do.)
what is illness?
surely, it is more than a pathogen invading, setting up house. homeostasis? i think it’s even more than the body trying to regain her optimal status quo. there’s also context to consider, right? i’m learning, there is always context to consider.
the last time i had a fever and felt ill, it was before our pilgrimage to Mt. Banahaw. had fitful sleep, fever, chills. and one night, i had the same dream over and over again. and i tossed and turned all night.
i remember feeling worried that i would not be well enough to go. i had missed this trip last year because i was having surgery to repair my Achilles tendon. (another sort of pilgrimage, for sure.) i so wanted to go and simultaneously decided that if Spirit decides this is my time to go, i’d be well enough to go.
my fever broke the night before we left. and it broke my heart wider and wider open. i was so scared. the analytical nurse in me thought, “what is this? what is happening to me?” as i logically ran down the pathophysiology of every major cardiopulmonary disorder that i could think of, including major signs and symptoms, risk factors, treatments, etc.
another part of me, the panicking part, was screaming, hysterical. “SCREAM! DO SOMETHING!!! YOU CAN’T JUST LIE THERE!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!! GET HELP! GO TO THE HOSPITAL!!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!!”
another part of me, the larger Me, was like, “stay present, dearest. wowee, this hurts, doesn’t it? there’s a reason for this pain. i’m here. i won’t leave you. i feel it, too. you are not alone.”
so, i stayed present. and i cried. masakit eh. it was like invisible hands were trying to widen a space in my chest, clear it out of what was no longer needed. fingers were probing and poking an already sore heart, touching the wounds that are already there, even making new ones. i didn’t get the sense that this was done out of malice. it was more purposeful. it was for me, for my healing. for my growth. i realize now, some months later, these hands were removing colonial vines that had wrapped my heart and choked my heartspace. thank you, my celestial Gardener.
i don’t know how long this lasted. maybe 10 minutes. but, who knows? i can’t even remember if Ged was with me that night. as fast as it came, it stopped. she left. she took my fever with her. i wiped my tears, exhaled. with trembling hands, i sipped some water. gave silent thanks to the Gardener. tears of relief wet the corners of my eyes. i let them be. i had survived it. and i felt a coolness now. and a stillness. and i slept.
the following morning, i packed for Mt. Banahaw, and feeling dizzy, weak, and unsure, i made my first pilgrimage there.
what is illness?
surely, it is more than a pathogen invading, setting up house. homeostasis? i think it’s even more than the body trying to regain her optimal status quo. there’s also context to consider, right? i’m learning, there is always context to consider.
the last time i had a fever and felt ill, it was before our pilgrimage to Mt. Banahaw. had fitful sleep, fever, chills. and one night, i had the same dream over and over again. and i tossed and turned all night.
i remember feeling worried that i would not be well enough to go. i had missed this trip last year because i was having surgery to repair my Achilles tendon. (another sort of pilgrimage, for sure.) i so wanted to go and simultaneously decided that if Spirit decides this is my time to go, i’d be well enough to go.
my fever broke the night before we left. and it broke my heart wider and wider open. i was so scared. the analytical nurse in me thought, “what is this? what is happening to me?” as i logically ran down the pathophysiology of every major cardiopulmonary disorder that i could think of, including major signs and symptoms, risk factors, treatments, etc.
another part of me, the panicking part, was screaming, hysterical. “SCREAM! DO SOMETHING!!! YOU CAN’T JUST LIE THERE!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!! GET HELP! GO TO THE HOSPITAL!!! WE ARE GOING TO DIE!!!”
another part of me, the larger Me, was like, “stay present, dearest. wowee, this hurts, doesn’t it? there’s a reason for this pain. i’m here. i won’t leave you. i feel it, too. you are not alone.”
so, i stayed present. and i cried. masakit eh. it was like invisible hands were trying to widen a space in my chest, clear it out of what was no longer needed. fingers were probing and poking an already sore heart, touching the wounds that are already there, even making new ones. i didn’t get the sense that this was done out of malice. it was more purposeful. it was for me, for my healing. for my growth. i realize now, some months later, these hands were removing colonial vines that had wrapped my heart and choked my heartspace. thank you, my celestial Gardener.
i don’t know how long this lasted. maybe 10 minutes. but, who knows? i can’t even remember if Ged was with me that night. as fast as it came, it stopped. she left. she took my fever with her. i wiped my tears, exhaled. with trembling hands, i sipped some water. gave silent thanks to the Gardener. tears of relief wet the corners of my eyes. i let them be. i had survived it. and i felt a coolness now. and a stillness. and i slept.
the following morning, i packed for Mt. Banahaw, and feeling dizzy, weak, and unsure, i made my first pilgrimage there.
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