hives have hives

i forgot how inflammatory i can get.
this happens when i come back to the states for a visit.
i get hives, especially when i am visiting with my family.
they are the painful kind, the indurated kind.
i get them all over.
my trunk, my legs, my arms...
even my eyelids, i think.

it is stressful for me to come back.
my rhythms get all messed up.
it's like i forget how to orient myself.
or maybe it's like, i can't find north,
or which way is up.

i'm so itchy.
this body is so wise.
she does this when there is something to look at,
when i am avoiding something.

my last year of nursing school, they used to call me "Hiver."
my yearlong healing (2004-2005) crisis time, my hives were rampant, relentless.
i would hide them with long sleeves.
i felt like scratching through my skin in a vain effort to stop the pain.
it would be so bad, i would force myself to sleep to numb out.

and i remember, visualizing a cooling energy that would soothe.
i can't breathe here.
i miss the Philippines.

there.
i said it.

i saw my friend Venus yesterday.
she asked me if i was going to stay in the Philippines for good.
"Ah, ah. hindi ko alam. tignan natin..."
backpedal, backpedal.
the commitment-phobe shows her stripes.
why is it so hard for me to say?

well, 'cause i don't know.
or i don't want to know.
still haven't decided.

i don't belong here.
not now.

advice

today, i've looked at myself in the mirror several times.
right in the eye.
i even raise my right hand, pointer finger extended (for emphasis),
and i say,
" do not settle, Muki."

do not settle.
you are amazing.
and beautiful.
and extraordinary.

and your person is out there.
and, when it is time, and not a moment before, you will meet.

in the meantime, just keep going.

i realized today how difficult it is for me to be back in the states.
there are many painful memories of when i have settled.

perhaps what is most difficult is that i realize that i have been on the brink of doing it all over again.
this time, though, with a little bit more sophistication and more elaborate smokescreen.
i am in danger of repeating this mistake, and i must just stop.

just stop.

Mitra always said, "don't believe your own bullshit."
i so want to.

but, i'll just stop instead.
and with this little big act of courage, i inch my way closer and closer to Awakening.

i remember this quote from Chogyam Trungpa:

"when you walk into this world of reality, the greater or cosmic world, you will find the way to rule your world - but, at the same time, you will also find a sense of aloneness. it is possible that this world could become a palace or kingdom to you, but as its king or queen, you will be a monarch with a broken heart."

i have a feeling that i will be looking at myself in the eye several more times in the next coming months.

j-lagged

it's so quiet here, sometimes, i can hear this high pitched tone in my ears.

no breeze in the trees.
no roosters crowing at all hours.
no smoke from burning leaves and trash.
no scraping of the walis on the pavement.
no sound of water sloshing in the bucket at the pump.
no rumbling of the tricycles riding past.
nor the acrid smell of sewage and greywater in the canals that line the streets.
i am hermetically sealed in this southern california townhouse that belongs to my sister and her husband.

there are these stirrings that i've felt lately, in the last few months, whose fire is so poignantly stoked by the birth of Olive.
Olive isn't her official birth certificate name.
it's the name that i call her.
it's the one that i had lea solonga write the autograph to, for her first birth day present, as we were on the same PAL flight from manila to los angeles.

i catch the whiff of domestication, here, stateside, especially.
it's like i breathe in a few molecules of it, and as soon as they hit the back of my throat....
i remember.
like it was yesterday.

i had a husband once.
and money.
and an apartment full of really nice things.
in san francisco.
i went out to fancy dinners.
and didn't worry too much about money.
i had a steady job, working in the hospital.
we had a dog.
and dreams of growing old together.
and kids someday.
and in-laws and holidays and family trips and long drives.

it was a relatively safe life.
and fairly predictable to boot.
the highs didn't get too high.
the lows didn't get too low.
something to be said about the dependability of mediocracy.

and the highs kinda started flattening out.
and the lows got lower...
and
lower
and
lower.

and this life almost killed me.
because this wasn't the life i was meant to lead, not like this.
and yet, there is this part of me that yearns for this "safety."

i want to have a child.
and this scares me a bit.
such a large responsibility.
will i ever find a suitable partner?
i hope so.

my rhythm has been off and my life chaotic since the first block of the teacher training ended.
afterwards, i went to negros.
then back to luzon.
then now in the states.
then...
then...
then...

sleep erratic.
eating erratic.
thinking erratic.
everything erratic.

will do yoga tomorrow to help stabilize.
and won't eat so darn much.
breathe, breathe.
out, then in.
then out.
then in.
over
and
over...

and
over
again.

i'll work my way out of this tailspin, i know.
it's just feels so dang hard.

birth day

i'm a tita!

just met my new niece.
she was born two hours ago.
she's so beautiful.
and...
amazing.

actually no words describe this feeling.
it's a curious mixture of hope and heartbreak.

she came one month early.

Baby Dear, what world are you inheriting?
i'll do my best to make it a better place for us.
you'll help too, i know.

i have spoken.
welcome.

mob

"There is, and most of us know it in our hearts, a valid test of a human defense: Is it also a human resource? Will it help us and at the same time keep our children growing? Are we sure that the doors to our future and our past are still ajar after we have used it? Or is it something that will improve our condition now but make further progress for us difficult, and perhaps impossible? Does it win the battles and always lose the war? Whether our defenses are "right" will surely depend on the answers to these questions.

But how hard it is, when we are struggling with fears, to think beyond ourselves and the present moment. Even the most responsible of us is not in a learning mood on those days, days which sometimes stretch into years, years when the quiet voice of reason is drowned out by the cries of the terrorized child within us. Time is meaningless then. How can we master it enough to swing our intelligence up and down the decades, the centuries, scanning them to see what marks our acts are leaving on them?

It is, of course, an impossible thing for an individual to do in times of acute anxiety. There may or may not be someone who cares enough to help him, to point the way, to ask the question that will set him back on the open road. If there is no one, the dead end is reached. The little security system that the child put together long ago just wouldn't work for his grown-up ordeals.

But fortunately for the future of the human race, not all of us are panicked by the same event or terrorized by the same voice. There are always some who can keep heart and head steady enough to hold the door open even when the mob rushes it; some who know and refuse to let the rest forget that improvement and progress can lead in opposite directions, and often do; that progress is not real, however much improvement takes place, unless it keeps men connected with that great reservoir in which human beings have stored the records of their wisdom and errors, discoveries and art, and triumphs and defeats, and dreams of God; unless it opens up more and more possibilities for growth and the enrichment of us as persons."


my friend Amy W. sent this to me some months ago. it’s from one of her (then) new favorite books, “The Journey,” by Lillian Smith. Amy W. has this uncanny way of emailing me right when i need to hear some timely words of comfort. and they’re not just any words, it’s her particular brand and flavor that i am grateful for. i have come to regard her as one of the steadfast in head and heart that Lillian Smith mentions, one who is able to hold the door, even as the mob rushes it, one who asks the question that urges me back on the open road. we don’t correspond frequently. maybe 3 or 4 times a year. and, it is enough.

i remember trying to read her email over and over when i first received it. it was in june or july i think, and my brains were freshly scrambled from my visit to the states, maian planet, the sesshin, the iloilo kapwa conference, finding a place to live, traveling to bacolod and dumaguete, getting over the flu, significant friend break-ups, resigning from the clinic, moving to pampanga, ek, ek.

i remember i couldn’t get past the first line. this happens to me sometimes, and when it does, i’ve learned to just set whatever it is aside. then i pick it up the next week or the next moment, or whenever the Universe plucks that particular string for me to pick it up again.

even today, i had to read force myself to read this quote thoroughly. my eyes wanted to flit and skip over words, get to the end, say it’s done, say i got it, next.

days which sometimes stretch into years…
time is meaningless then…
cries of the terrorized child…

where does this rabbit hole of mine lead?

i feel detached from my life in the states. the upcoming presidential elections, global financial crises, current events. i am vaguely aware of what’s happening. mind, i’ll cast my vote for Obama via absentee ballot, but beyond that, i really am at a loss. i’m somewhat embarrassed (or is it my inner virgo wringing her hands, distraught at my apparent lack of sobriety and groundedness?) i lack the motivation to “keep up,” and when people here find out i am from the states, they ask me to explain the mortgage scandal and political party rivalries and they seem genuinely surprised that they seem to be more in the know. well, they are.

lately, i’ve been concerned more with generational and intergenerational grief and grieving. lately, i’ve been pondering rage inheritance. it is a painful experience to be here in negros. precious to spend time with my lola. painful to witness the ways in which my kin wound and harm. alarmed as they mirror the parts of me i’d rather forget i have.

i think about sacred contracts and the wisdom of the Universe. and i wonder aloud, sometimes on my knees, why me, why now, why this place, why so hard, why this way? what is it that you want me to learn? why have i made these sacred contracts with these crazy people? aren’t i one of them? i want to separate myself, create more separation. i want to escape back to santa rita, to dumaguete, to eating, to sleeping, to fucking. anything to get away from this discomfort.

this won’t last.
yah, yah, i know.

and when i sit still and remember to exhale, the discomfort shifts.
it doesn’t go away (shit.) but it does change.
sometimes it gets worse.
mostly it just shifts.
and sometimes it lessens for a bit, until the next wave hits.

how do i move through this in a good way?
without harming?
without aggression?
with honesty
with integrity?
i stumble through this and wonder how my way measures in terms of this valid testing of human defense that Lillian Smith invites me to remember. for ‘tis true, i do believe there really is a valid test of human defense, i do know this in my heart. but, what the hell is it?

can it be quantified?
can it be qualified?

i am reading this book on catastrophe theory written by alexander woodcock and monte davis. it was published in 1978 and has to do with a qualitative theory of physics and mathematics that offers a different way of looking at sudden change. from the back cover, catastrophe theory also “makes measurable such abstract qualities as fear, anger, love, and hate.” i have no idea how this theory figures in the current state of the world, and i am only on page 12 or so, but something speaks to me about this.

it is difficult for me to read it. kinda like reading thru Amy’s email. i have to force myself to read it thoroughly, line by line. i have to control the urge to flit my eyes to the end and say i got it, good, next. in fact, i’ve started over reading this book twice now. i bought it used at green apple books or diesel books last time i was in the states. it was one of those purchases where i just added it to my pile just from glancing at the title or the cover.

i know i am healing and addressing generations of grief, grieving, and unresolved rage. i have no idea how to go about it, except to keep putting one foot in front of the other and to get back up when i fall down over and over and over and over and over again. lizards jump down from the ceiling onto my chest. they land heavy on my heart, startling me. then they jump down to the floor and scurry away. they remind me to keep my heart open even when i want to close it, hardened and hurting. they remind me to exhale. and after that way, the inhale just comes naturally.

diwali

i celebrate the darkness and the light.
or at least i try my very best to.
some days i'm serene.
others i'm a complete failure, aggressive and unsure.
most days, i'm in between.
lately, i've been numb, afraid to feel.
but, i woke up this morning, and you were there.
present in my thoughts.
and in my heart.
i was surprised to see you again.
i thought i had closed the door.
only because you did first.
i'm here in negros, in the house of my lola.
she is dying of cancer of the blood.
though she is living mostly.
dying very little.
i try and appreciate this.
i'm surrounded by sharks here.
and i remember the soft place we used to share, that we used to make together.
did i imagine it?
was it really that soft, that safe?
was it co-created?
or just my own fantasy?
parts real.
parts fancy.
i long for that soft place, real or not.
i haven't been able to make it with others.
i've tried.
i've tried to make it on my own.
it suffices, but it is not the same.

happy diwali.
remember you are loved.
i'll try to remember, too.

lost horizon

pg. 152
lost horizon
by james hilton

"For years, passions had been like a nerve that the world jarred on:
now at last the aching was soothed, and he could yield himself to love that was
neither a torment nor a bore."

i ask you,
does this really exist?

i realize that in matters concerning love, i tend, like any good hopeless romantic pinay worth her salt, to the tumultuous.
if it isn't torment, isn't it a bore?

i recall a gchat with my friend venus early last year.
i spilled my guts about a particularly tortuous torment.
and venus wrote,
"well, u deserve someone who can receive u as u r..... i don't feel relationships have to be so difficult, ya know."
(her words still startle me with their simplicity and Truth.)

someone who can receive me like i am?
i don't even do that with myself.
(well, not completely, anyway.)
learning, learning.

i also realize as i reflect on my past torments (hee), i am learning.
and getting closer to receiving me like i am.
and getting better at receiving others like they are.

i have to admit though:
i am afraid of hurting others...again.
i am afraid of getting hurt...again.

i've been doing a lot of thinking about this, and here's the thing:
it is practically a guarantee that we, as human creatures in authentic relationship, will hurt each other.

we do this.
it is what we do.

it is the ways in which we do this and also how we make amends for our misgivings that speak volumes about our character.
how do we move through conflict?
how do we draw compassionate boundaries?
how do we honor our commitments? to ourselves? to one another?
how do we bear discomfort in placing honesty above complacency?
how do we forgive?

so, the point is, not to be afraid of getting hurt, or causing hurt.
the point is to take good care that we are not reckless with our own hearts nor allow others to be reckless with them either.
the point is to take good care that we are not reckless with others' hearts as well.

how does one do this?
and as i pose the question, i realize that what i really mean is, "how do i do this without anyone getting hurt?"
(for me, it keeps going back to that hurt thing.)

me, i know i can withstand the hurt.
(as long as i can have a bit of solitude, a soft place to cry, nature close by, something to write on, sappy love songs to commune with, and peanut m&m's.)

but, i don't want to hurt anyone.
i really don't want to hurt anyone.
is it understood that as we enter any sort of relationship, particularly romantically inclined ones, that we assume the risk of getting hurt as part and parcel of the experience?
maybe this is the difference between mature and immature love.
or the difference between mature and immature me?

i wish (kind of) that there was some sort of trial edition or test drive option,
some kind of virtual reality try out when we meet someone new.
i feel silly even writing this.
because i don't want it, really, because it isn't real life.
and it just gives me a way to wiggle out of taking responsibility for my actions.
a virtual world has no blood, no guts.
theoretical inferences have nothing on real live experience.

still...

i'm reminded of this quote i saw written on the wall outside a store that sells fancy kitchen gadgets in makati.
it read,
"Cooking is like love--it should be entered into with abandon or not at all."

abandon, caution
torment, bore

i'm almost inclined to just sit on my hands and feign indifference.
almost.
i've never been very good at sitting on my hands.
and feigning indifference...well, those days are behind me, if ever they were in front of me.

no, i see that i will have to wade into the deep end for this.
i'm already waist high, pretending that i'm chest high.
maybe i should just get out and jump all the way in.
at least it's honest.