hara

there is feeling, this fluttering feeling in my hara.
i've written about it before.
like a trapped butterfly or a bird.
i feel so uneasy.
and anxious.

it's so uncomfortable.
i want to run.
or escape it somehow.
eat it.
drink it.
gamble it.
something, anything not to feel it.

i don't feel it all the time.

chicken lollipop

picture this.

paul anka's concert dvd playing loudly. "papa" playing now. (kanina, si anne murray o!)
my mother dancing around the kitchen, preparing and marinating all the food we will eat in the next two days.

me, wearing wool socks, pajama bottoms, three shirts, and a wool beanie (ang lamig dito, eh.),
laughing and making tsismis and kwento-kwento with my mom.

baking cookies...
a filipinized version of the debunked urban legend nieman marcus recipe.
by filipinized, meaning i don't really measure, going from memory, freestyle.
i change the ingredients up depending on what makes sense at the time, what we have on hand.

i used cashews this year instead of walnuts and pecans, an homage to Prado.
used mostly whole wheat flour din.

i made these cookies at Prado a couple of weeks ago, assisted by Hugo and Natya, ang mga pamangkin ni Reimon.
nary a walnut nor pecan could be found.
so we used cashews.
ang sarap!

four dozen so far.
i give cookies and make cd's for my loved ones during christmas.
it's how i make peace with all the commercialized madness this time of year.
i still do *love* to give gifts to people.
i just spread them out over the year.
and give them, as Spirit moves me.

tonight at midnight we will eat:
pancit molo
hot pan de sal
chicken lollipop
honeybaked ham
and
cookies!

tomorrow will be a ridiculous feast pala.
:)

my dad is napping on the couch, tired from playing tennis this morning.

i'm still working out this year's cd playlist.
3/4 done yata.

masaya.

blockbuster'd

feeling better.
dancing.
walking.
breathing.

full moon tonight.
gorgeous.
the sky is dark and clear.
the air is dry and sharp.
i am mesmerized by the moon.

been renting movies at the nearby blockbuster.
$4.29 a movie.
grabe!
you do get to keep them for 5 days, so i guess that's good.
pero, ang mahal talaga!

there's a movie rental place in Madapdap called 'friendster'.
mostly pirated titles.
Nathanel and i rented 'beautiful boxer' two days before i left for the states.
subtitles super jacked up.
atsaka 15 pesos lang.
we never ended up finishing it because the disc kept stopping.

i remember those 'beautiful boxer' postcards that we used to use as scratch paper at the Center after the premiere.
was so funny for me to see that image again, especially in the Philippines.

talked with some relatives from chicago today on the phone.
some of them i haven't talked with for years.
two titas, one tito, three cousins.

kuya Ferdie might be going to Baguio in February.
will meet up with him there.

spoke Taglish with them. was fun (and funny) because they were so impressed.

prison dream

had a dream last night that i was in prison.
it was a minimum security prison in the philippines.
(does that exist?)

i wasn't scared.
just bewildered.
everyone was confused.
even the guards.

i woke up just when i realized that martial law had been declared again.

psoas

have this anxiety.
haven't felt this in 6 months.
not that i haven't felt anxious in the Philippines.
this is a different kind.

vague.
deep.

parang yung sariling dwende ko, ang ginhawa ko ay sa bilangguan.
and she's scared.
and she's confused because she doesn't know why she's so scared.

i can feel my psoas, so sore.
last night, i had to go outside and look at the moon.
and talk to her.
because if i stayed inside, i would start climbing the walls.
and it's so cold here.

then, i borrowed my sister's car and went for a drive.
looking, looking for something familiar.
something to hold onto.

i drove 20 miles.
trying to find some comfort outside of myself.
wala eh.

is it something about being in vegas?
siguro.
i've often said, i'd have nothing to do with las vegas if my family didn't live here.
it's the land of delusion kasi.

i've become so sensitive to energies.
i don't know if i can stay until after new year.
i want to see my family though.
and spend time with them.

naku.

ano ba ito?
will have to find some way to work with this anxiety.
must be time to work with this, too.

sige.

to love and learn

contemplating my single-ness lately. i'm really feeling it here kasi.
strange, 'no?
i'm so curious about it. and, oooh. it hurts, too.
i didn't really give it too much thought in the philippines.
perhaps, i was so busy with my work, traveling, meeting new friends.
here, though, and particular at this time, it's on my mind.
the holidays are so loaded kasi. Vassi used to say that.
we put such pressure on ourselves.
holiday cards, parties, the 'perfect' gifts, decorating, mistletoe...
materialism gone amuck.
been going around with my mother, shopping.
i see all these couples walking around, hand in hand.

old ones.
young ones.
pregnant ones.

they are shopping.
and getting coffee.
and fussing over their babies.

and i feel this pang in my chest.
my heart yata.
it lasts for a moment.
then passes.
i say "ouch" to myself, exhale, rub my chest, and my mind starts whirring.

i think about the conventional notions of romantic love that are pumped into the airwaves, the water.
how alluring it is to fall for it, be caught up in it.
been there.
how delicious the feeling can be at first.

then, it wears thin for me, after awhile, if there is no spiritually grounded foundation, no commitment to a deepening and transcendence of the mundane and ordinary, no mutual understanding to be of service to the world...
it's a tall order, i know.

conventional romantic love doesn't have what it takes to weather the inevitable storms either. it's too concerned with feeling good all the time and avoiding pain.
how powerful it is to sit in the muck together. and say to each other, "wow. this is shitty. how'd we get here again? come, love, let's help each other out of this. let's not stay here."

romantic love is so sentient soul, as Reimon would say.
i laugh because i can (and do) get caught up in pop songs and movies.
and it's not that i don't appreciate romance, because i do.
being in authentic relationship, for me, means more.

it could also be that i've been filling a lot of my time lately watching this pinoy na pinoy soap opera with my family.
sa piling mo.
gold standard, as far as teleserye go.
chock full of those themes that are so appealing (familiar?) to pinoys.

love.
sacrifice.
overcoming adversity.
endurance.
martyrdom.
pride.
underdog-ness.
rags to riches.
family.
machismo.
violence.
motherhood.
reconciliation.

i remember how when i was younger how upset i was when movies didn't have 'happy' endings, where everyone followed their arc, and everyone got everything that they wanted and deserved in the end. in my late teens/early 20's, i remember feeling somewhat disillusioned and sometimes adverse to independent films i watched where everything ended "messy" and it wasn't sunny and lovey at the end.

also, watched this movie, prime, the other day.
launched me into a whole nuther thinking process.
i remember a conversation Reimon and i had on karmic relationships.

how people come and go in our lives.
and they bring teachings and learnings.
some stay in our lives for a very long time.
some a few seconds, minutes, hours, days, months.

it's the letting go that is hardest for me.
and figuring out how to reframe.
and accept the timing.
and remembering the gift, amidst the grief.
am pondering all of this.
and trying to make the definitions personal.
and useful.

another edge to work.
must be time to look at this.
and sit with this.

sige.

barrio

getting over my jet lag.
still somewhat on philippines time.
Reimon calls twice a day.
thanks, vonage.
gmail chatting with Troy at 2am.
chikka texting.

suitcases have vomited all over my room.
haphapzard packing.
again.

laughing because i packed mostly dirty clothes.
haven't had time to do my wash.
feels like college.

last week at the clinic was a whirlwind blur.
so much to prepare.

my mother pimped out my room here while i was gone.
white sheets.
feather pillows.
goose down comforter.
plushy white towels.
kinda afraid to be dirty, it's so white.

amused at the contrast.
my pink 'permahard' uratex foam mattress in Madapdap.
how i purposely bought brown sheets so i wouldn't notice dirt as much.
i used to sleep with just a malong pala.

the water in Madapdap would turn these white sheets orange from the rust.

then i think how lucky i am that i can thrive in both environments.
that i even have the opportunity to know both worlds.
and really enjoy them.
and love them.

it's cold here.
and i have a humidifier running all the time.
i refill it with my pink tabo.

getting over a hacking cough that i brought with me.
another release of grief yata.

did some laundry the other day.
used the 'high efficiency, front loader' washing machine in my parent's house.
first time i've used a washing machine in six months.
hung some of it to dry on the long railings framing the spiral staircase here.
parang sampay.
as i hung it all up, i thought to myself, my parents are not going to like this.
kasi, daming kalat eh.
they like everything orderly kasi.
they never said anything to me about it.

my youngest sister, Sam, came home home from work, and laughed.
"you know, Ate, this ain't the barrio."

we laughed.
sabi ko, "you can take the girl out of the Philippines, but you can't take the Philippines out of the girl."

have showed my parents pictures of the clinic in Madapdap.
they didn't faint.
i'll take it.

made kwento-kwento about my roadtrip with Reimon.
told my father how i kept thinking of him during that trip.
he told me that one of his favorite things to eat was tupig.

i discovered it in vigan.
i remember riding the calesa, and asking the driver what they were cooking at the side of the road.

sarap yan mam.
tikman mo.

sige.

i bought five, at 5 pesos each.
gave one to the driver.
ate two for merienda. ang sarap!
gave two to Reimon later.

i look forward to eating piping hot, bagong lutong tupig with my father.
my family is talking about maybe spending christmas in the philippines next year.
there is healing happening.
ganda.

cosmic ontology

what a privilege to witness my own evolution.
it's like an upward spiral.

not that long ago, i used to get so frustrated that i'd find myself struggling with the "same ol' shit."
used to get so impatient and violent with myself.
would chastise and let the petty and small me drive the bus.

there you go AGAIN.
you'll NEVER learn.
you're so STUPID.
you deserve THIS.
you'll NEVER get it right.
it's YOUR fault.

small me rarely gets to drive anymore.
she can voice her opinion.
then, i scoop her up and she sits on my lap.
and i pat her hair, give her kisses, and sing to her.
i hold her as she squirms and tries to wriggle away.
eventually, she yields, rests her hot and weary head on my chest, and she melts into my heart.
there's room for her there.

nowadays, when i find myself at a familiar tight spot, i recognize it for what it is.
ah, i must be at another turn in that spiral.
sige.
been here.
kaya ko ito. i can do this.
i know because i've done it before.

the last two years' gradient has prepared me.
i appreciate the wideness of that path, the gradual ascent.
i noticed it, of course, and it just felt easier with company.

nearing the pinnacle, the turns are tighter and tighter.
they come faster and faster.
the mountain steeper.
the path more narrow.
less stable.
and less marked.
it's built for one, after all.

i realize, it's the witness that i miss.
i can endure the pain.
i even do it willingly.
just want someone to know.
just want someone to care.
and to care enough to know.

they don't have to fix it.
(they can't anyway.)
maybe they can just meet me at a rest stop, in between the tight turns.
offer our mutual shoulders.
and we can just sit and love each other.
and cry and laugh together at our frailty and strength.
and touch each other, a reminder of our physical bodies.
the ultimate reminder of the privilege of being human.
that to feel the entire emotional range and gamut is an exquisitely precious, precious gift.
then, when it's time to go, we embrace.
and we go, bid each other farewell, in a good way.
knowing that we will not pass this way again.
and, the connection between us is strengthened with our commitment to the Path.

then, i'll cry, because i always do.
more from gratitude than anything else.
grateful for the connection.
grateful for the moment.
grateful for the witness.
grateful for the understanding.
grateful that i continue to meet more and more who meet me at those rest stops.
grateful that, when there are no others, i am learning to meet myself at those rest stops.

i am learning to fly.

roused from sleep

who is pulling my energy?

heartstrings tugged.

woke me from sleep.

who is thinking of me?
and speaking my name?
who is speaking to me?
expecting me to answer?

it is someone in the Philippines.

feeling restless.
and weary.
and lucky.
and loved.

could chalk this up to jet lag, i suppose.
but, it's not.

fast dreams.
Prado children.
Nathanel and his guitar.
Justin flying.
or is it me?

settle, settle, Muki.
soothe.
all is okay.

my chest is sore.
i feel so restless.
wheezy.

celestial gardener, is that you?

she wants me to dance.
okay, okay.
i'll dance.

birit

whirlwind of a weekend.
on Bonifacio day, Nathanel came from Baguio.
Indo-genius Festival to Madapdap.
Snake bones from Sagada.
Seed necklace from Baguio.

i hear my friend Joy’s voice imitating a precocious child,
“There is no seed in a perfect love.”

this dark, smooth, round seed, in this necklace, is me.
she is being held by a knotted net of beads and stones.
i am being held.
close.
and supported.
with room to breathe.
she is beautiful, just like me.
created by an artist, just like me.

brought out the Philippines map, and Nathanel and i traced with our fingers, hearts, and words the last two months of our journeys. we miss our friend Troy.

that night, friday night tiangge in Madapdap.
jogger’s haven park.
apparently this happens every friday.
had no idea!
pirated cd’s galore.
closet favorites purchased.
the whole barangay out.
eating, shopping.
boiled corn on the cob. 8 pesos.
puto bumbong. 10 pesos.
buko juice. 5 pesos.
lechon paksiw, kare-kare, two rice, big 7up. 102 pesos.
mangga, isang kilo lang po. 60 pesos.
goto, mami, balut, calamares…

the next morning, Nathanel and i are off to Prado. Lubao.
Reimon’s family compound.
and biodynamic farm.

Reimon has invited me to come every weekend.
for respite from the clinic, he says.
when i arrive, he always greets me with a big hug, and a “Welcome home.”
from Madapdap, there is a jeep to San Fernando.
it leaves when it is full. 35 pesos.
get off at the San Fernando intersection.
take another bus to Prado Siongco. 35 pesos.
this one playing the jams. “That’s me in the corner, that’s me in the spotlight…”
i sing. and smile. because i am so damn happy.
the Philippines is so beautiful.
Nathanel and i look out the window, wind blowing our hair.
sugar cane waving in the wind.
young corn coming up.
glints of sunlight reflected off the rivers.
the bus goes so fast, i can’t see the trash.

biodynamic farmer’s market every weekend at Prado.
yakon, lettuce, oranges, passionfruit, and whatever comes from Baguio that morning.

tsokolate eh in the morning.
with pinipig.
Mommy’s special roasted cacao.
and fried suman.

Manang is such a good cook.
cheese omelette made with duck eggs. such a delicate pale yellow.
brown rice.
crispy tocino.
suka with sili.
basil tea.
biscocho.

there are weekend activities for the local children at Prado.
music.
arts and crafts.

this month, advent.
candle lighting in the chapel.

the chapel is one of my favorite places in Prado.
Reimon designed it. it was built from love, and i can really feel it eh.
i go there alone and sit and sing and sing.
i sing the songs that i learned at my Center in Oakland.
and the three opera songs that i know from beginning voice class in college.

Nathanel and i teach the kids an Igorot chant.
he plays the flute.
i play the drum.
we chant and dance in a circle.
he also teaches them arnis.
i teach some of the high school girls the foundations of sitting meditation.

later that evening, we all head out to the duman festival, in nearby santa rita.
santa rita was one of the few communities that was spared from major lahar devastation when mt. Pinatubo erupted in 1991. surrounding communities were buried, some 30 feet in volcanic mud.

duman is the young green rice.
arti-sta. rita does a performance.
my friend Rowell, also the Prado music teacher, is in the show.
ang ganda.
one of the best parts is the song about mt. pinatubo.
brilliant costumes.
the entire musical was in Kapampangan.
such a beautiful expression of provincial pride.

Father Ed, Pampanga’s governor, was there, and he performed as well.
maganda ang boces niya!

following morning, get up early and walk the farm.
grab a banana from the kitchen and some water and set out to find Reimon.
he walks the farm every morning.
i time it so that i finish the banana by the time i get to the pigs’ home.
i throw the peel into their yard, and am delighted when i walk by later that it’s gone.

find Reimon by the rice field.
i pick basil leaves and chew them while we sit and chat.
never ceases to amuse us to watch the birds on the electric line that runs straight through the property in a straight line through Prado and neighboring conventional farms.
the birds only sit on the wires that are directly above Prado.
they begin where the rice field begins.
they end where the rice field ends.
nakakatuwa.
they all sit, with their backs to the sun.
Reimon says they must like sunning their butts.
i laugh.
i bring my camera and take pictures of the birds on the wire.
and a knot on a tree that looks like an eye.
and some water on a leaf.

Nathanel joins us after a bit.
and we tell him the story of the birds.
i don’t tell them that these same birds pooped on me last weekend.
twice.

Nathanel and i go up to wash up and pack.
Joy arrives and brings her friend, Simi.
hugs, hugs, and more hugs.
i love when new folks come to Prado, because i love giving them the tour.
afterwards, sit down to congee breakfast, sunday staple.

then we pile into the family van and head out to subic.
our friends Liana and Rodney have invited us to eat lunch at their house, on the edge of the rainforest.
love going to their place.

aviary.
bunnies.
doggies.
kitties.
and a trampoline!

drank some beer and ate some Doritos.
nice combo, right?
then decided to jump on the trampoline.
Nathanel, Joy, Simi, and Rowell were already jumping, jumping.

fun, fun.
lunch was Prado salad (biodynamic greens and hibiscus flowers!), veggie lumpia, spinach pancit, grilled prawns and fish, broccoli, cauliflower, and rice.
yum!
Rowell brought Santa Rita goodies for dessert. his hometown is famous for delicious sans rival, candies, and sweets!

then off to El Kabayo Falls to swim!
Nathanel, Joy, Simi, Rowell, and i set off walking, passing a deserted playground on the way.
we all drop our bags and run towards the big slide.
one by one we go down four, five times.

Kuya Eugene, Reimon’s driver sees us walking and picks us up in the van and brings us to the falls.
the road to the falls is muddy due to the recent rains.
we slip and slide.
i sing softly to myself as we walk.
the trees form a long canopy covering the road.
Nathanel says to make sure we “Tabi tabi po.”
i do this silently, then quietly.

we get to the falls.
the jump is at least 25 feet down.
yahoooooey!
scared as all get out.
thrilling.
must have done jumped down 6 or 7 times.
it starts to get dark.
so we get out and dry off and get dressed.

walk back down to main road.
Simi loses her tsinelas in the mud.

we call winstar taxi and they pick us up to take us to the victory liner bus station in olongopo.
again with the jams.
everyone is singing at the top of their lungs.
even the Manong driving.
maybe him most of all kasi it’s his cd!

we all fall out of the fx, laughing and punchy, high from our synergy.
we eat at dumplings and dim sum.
or is it dim sum and dumplings.
basta.
really terrible food.
that’s what i get for trying to order shark’s fin dumplings (homage to Laurel) at a fast food joint.
best part though was sitting outside at a table and chatting and singing again.
Christmas carols. (gulp.)
bon jovi. (double gulp.)
“i’ll be there for you. these five words i swear to you. when you breathe, i wanna be the air for you…”

after, we part ways.
Nathanel to his tito’s house in olongopo.
Joy and Simi to manila.
Rowell and me back to Prado.
board the bus.
we’re so tired.
texting with Reimon.
he is trying to keep me awake, i think, so that we don’t miss our stop.
he is headed to manila already, as he has an early flight to bohol the next morning.
Rowell is already dozing.
kawawa kasi, he has to get up and leave at 3am that morning to pick up instruments at his house and then go to manila for rehearsal and another performance that evening.
me, i get up at 6am.
visit the chapel and sing a goodbye song.
visit the pigs. (i’m sorry, i still eat you. i’m trying to stop. kind of. here's another banana peel.)
say goodbye to birds on the wire. (thanks for missing me this weekend!)
drink basil tea.
and let a kalabaw milk pastilla dissolve on my tongue.

wait outside on the dusty road to get on a bus towards san Fernando.
then a jeep to angeles.
then another jeep.
then another jeep to angeles university hospital to meet with an orthopedic doctor for the clinic.
ang daming bitbit ko, including my drum.
waited two hours to talk with the medical secretary to find out that the doctor was pulled into surgery.

lunch at a turo-turo.
fruit salad sundae at mister frosty.

then another jeep towards mabalacat.
then a trike from mawaque to madapdap.
home sweet clinic.

i unlock the door. the key sticks, as usual.
i make a reasonable amount of noise so that the ipis know to scatter before i come in.
mental note to use the WD 40 i got from Justin on that lock.

i smile, remembering Nathanel’s text from that morning,
“Yesterday was 1 of the funnest days of my life.”