the perfume of packing

i’m burning the copal that Miguel gave me over 2 years ago before i left.
we were carpooling home together from the ‘Loin, and we stopped in that one shop whose name i always forget on Valencia down the street from Osento in the Mission.

he bought copal.
i bought a set of cards.

the resin bubbles as the fire catches.
i was always afraid to burn it before.
afraid i didn’t have the proper vessel.
or didn’t know how to do it ‘right.’

unafraid, i light it now.
(and keep lighting it; it keeps burning out.)
it smells like the incense they burn at church.
i place it on one of the pink plates that Uma and Mitra brought back from Japan.
the woodsy fragrance fills my nostrils, as i watch a fat ribbon of black smoke writhe and slither up into the air.
i feel the heat, let the flame singe the hairs on my knuckle, almost burning my skin.
a flood of memories come back.

i remember my first fire ceremony.
the smell of the land in the Santa Cruz mountains.
i remember the burden that ‘Bino bears.
that when he is Called, he must come.
i remember my Teacher calling him…for us.
i remember basking in the reflected light between these two Great Friends.
i remember Jr. and how everyone swooned.
i remember the dark.
and Thuy hyperventilating, then shrieking.
i remember feeling curious.
and open.
i remember feeling like my lips, nostrils, and eyelids were on fire.
i remember seeing green sparks.
i remember putting my cheek to the earth to find coolness.

i remember the second fire ceremony, the following year.
i was not allowed inside.
my moon had just finished and i was still too powerful and potent to enter.
everyone else was inside.
i waited outside and sang songs softly to myself and the trees.
and thought about the Philippines.
and watched as, one by one, they emerged from the fire’s womb, gulping the cool air and afternoon sun, glistening and sweating.

when i was helping prepare the space, i found a red diamond shaped rock.
it was so rough and light.
it stayed in my pocket for years after that.
i remember finding it again when i was wandering the cordilleras.
pleased to rub it between my fingers again, feeling it snag my skin.


let the fire change you, Muki.

that’s what i heard this morning, as i lit another candle for Ligaya’s Papa.
that’s why i lit the copal, i guess.
that’s why i will light incense all day and fill my little place with warmth and light.

outside, it’s grey and cool.
and sprinkling.
the sky is crying tears that i’m not.
i’ve cried so much already.

the lights were flickering on and off this morning.
the fan’s motor whirring on and off, sputtering.
i’m amidst boxes and stuff.
copious amounts of stuff.

i had been hoping to go to baguio, as my last trip before i return to the States.
i realize it was another kind of distraction, procrastination.
i won’t go.
i need to fully unpack so that i can pack.

it’s painful this process.
i don’t want to do it.
people have offered to help me.
pero, paano?

i go through each thing…remembering.
with each thing, i decide if it goes or stays.
weighing it, literally, figuratively, emotionally.
it is an alone process.

two came yesterday and lingered.
i sent them away.
i want to be alone in this.

i made arrangements for a van to bring me to the airport on Tuesday.
i’ll go early.
i’ll have excess baggage fees to pay.
this will be the last time that i pay for that.
no more excess baggage for me.
even when i go home, i know there are boxes of things yet at my parents’ house and Center to go thru and release.
no more holding onto things that are not useful, no longer needed.
after Sit For Change, there will be a great releasing.

i found pockets of things that i never unpacked from the clinic.
a stash of incense, sweet cedar, and sage.
green rocks and pebbles from the beach and alien windmills in ilocos norte.
i assemble a makeshift incense holder from a ceramic cup and those pebbles, and i will burn it all today.

i gave all of my agnihotra supplies to Bahay Ginhawa.
i will buy a new pyramid when i am settled in Berkeley.
it will be my welcome Home present to myself.

i’m sitting at my dining table, underneath the window.
the raindrops splash off the slats of glass and microdrops wet my shoulders.
i’m itchy and rub alcohol on my neck and back to cool.

tiny red ants have taken refuge in this messy house of mine.
i find them everywhere.
in bed.
in my ears.
in the toaster oven.

i’m still wearing eyeliner from going out last night.
mac: shit still looks good, even the morning after.
that’s come in handy a couple 3-4 times.
pampanga friends took me out to fancy dinner last night.
i didn’t even have to drive.
it was hard to sleep alone last night, after all the merriment.

today is my power moon day.
the moon and planets will be in the same position tonight that they were 35 years ago on my birth day. tonight, i will have a dream that will offer me a glimpse into what the year has in store for me. i remember the one i had last year…
an added bonus: last day of my moon today.
this must be some kind of triple whammy.

my house smells like rain, sweet cedar, and sage.
my skin smells like rubbing alcohol, sweat, and tears.
this is the new perfume of packing.