i’m on another plane.
this time from Singapore to Clark.
good to be going home.
(did park and fly; hope Pipsy starts.)
tho, i’ll only be home for a day.
(pray for sunshine; i have laundry to do…)
and then i turn around and fly to davao to visit betsy in makilala.
don bosco, Dra. Moon’s clinic, paradise island, aldevinco, marang, and mangosteen… here i come.
i enjoyed my stay in Singapore.
with new friends.
friends who, quite literally, i only met a couple of weeks ago.
we met in palawan at Pi and Lisette’s healing space.
we were slipping around on red mud; riding down bumpy, dusty roads in jeeps and trikes; riding boats in dark caves and on underground rivers, pumping water out of the ground; eating our food off of banana leaves with our hands; cooking, laughing; playing guitar; meditating; dancing; healing; drumming…
in Singapore, i stayed in their swanky pad.
10th floor.
wi-fi.
fine art, from both established and emerging Filipino painters and sculptors.
leather chaises.
clean lines.
fendi throw pillows.
remote controlled air conditioners, in every room.
chic.
i’m acutely aware of my ability to move in and out of these two kinds of worlds equally well.
i’m grateful for that particular straddle ability.
flexy-bendy.
i’ll be taking outdoor showers at the farm of Betsy soon.
i am grateful for that.
even if there are yellow frogs stuck to the shower curtain.
(reminds me that i have to get batteries for my flashlight…)
my friend Dane, a fellow Fil-Am, played Singapore tour guide extraordinaire for 5 glorious days.
i went to all kinds of malls in Singapore.
it most certainly is a concrete jungle.
a strangely sedate one.
and an extremely clean one.
nicest and cleanest public toilets.
well stocked with a plethora of toilet paper.
and even toilet seat liquid antiseptic cleanser dispensers in each stall.
automatic flush that didn’t rush you or splash back.
i think my favorite part of the public toilets were the squat toilets.
i like those the best.
i wish they had those in the states.
i’m not sure why.
just seems natural to go like that.
there were free public hand sanitizer dispensers everywhere.
elevators.
escalators.
bathrooms.
mrt.
i was so curious about the prayer rooms i would see around.
there were separate ones for women and men.
i really wanted to peek into one; i didn’t tho.
i can’t even name all things that i ate.
i visited umpteen hawker centers and food courts.
Singaporean.
Chinese.
Indian.
Malaysian.
grabe.
eating and shopping are the national pastimes, and they take each one rather seriously.
nicest public library i’ve ever been in.
apparently, Singapore is one of the richest countries in asia.
no deficit, according to Dane.
i somehow managed to attend a lecture/workshop on essential oils and their therapeutic uses. also went to Malaysia for a couple of hours. right hand drive was funny. i kept looking the wrong way before crossing the street. played the lotto. i even went to ikea.
i liked how all the public signs were in 4 different languages. halal food everywhere.
mass transit easy and smooth. parang may konting konti gulo talaga.
i just realized how tired i feel.
all this zipping around.
someone asked me when i will rest.
i told them that the plane ride home to the states is 12+ hours…
malapit na.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
for good
in the last 2 weeks:
zarraga
caticlan
boracay
singapore
malaysia.
next 2 weeks:
davao
dumaguete
baguio
sagada
september 1:
turn 35
birthday/despedida party
september 8:
climb on a plane in manila
and twelve hours later (or so),
land in san francisco
drive across the bay bridge
to berkeley
back to Center
to begin again.
zarraga
caticlan
boracay
singapore
malaysia.
next 2 weeks:
davao
dumaguete
baguio
sagada
september 1:
turn 35
birthday/despedida party
september 8:
climb on a plane in manila
and twelve hours later (or so),
land in san francisco
drive across the bay bridge
to berkeley
back to Center
to begin again.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Being human*
alternate title:
the ransomed, the shephard, and the witness
From Jae G’s facebook status the other day:
"None of the ransomed ever knew/How deep were the waters crossed..." A friend shared this verse with me eight years ago. He found it written in his dad's diary. The context was martial law and the ensuing revolution. Cory's death triggered the memory. It was written by Elizabeth Clephane in reference to the biblical story of the shepherd and the lost sheep.
my 4am response:
perhaps, it is the rain. or in my case, the gusts of wind that just now woke me up (blowing in the rain!). it's also because of Tita Cory. i am reminded that i am one of the ransomed; i am also the shepherd. and gratefully, i am also the witness to myself and others being both. i'm experiencing the heartbreaking awareness of the exquisite joy and sorrows of what it means to embody my full humanity. i am amazed at the depth and breadth of our capacity. it's a tremendous responsibility AND opportunity.
such a privilege!
the ransomed, the shephard, and the witness
From Jae G’s facebook status the other day:
"None of the ransomed ever knew/How deep were the waters crossed..." A friend shared this verse with me eight years ago. He found it written in his dad's diary. The context was martial law and the ensuing revolution. Cory's death triggered the memory. It was written by Elizabeth Clephane in reference to the biblical story of the shepherd and the lost sheep.
my 4am response:
perhaps, it is the rain. or in my case, the gusts of wind that just now woke me up (blowing in the rain!). it's also because of Tita Cory. i am reminded that i am one of the ransomed; i am also the shepherd. and gratefully, i am also the witness to myself and others being both. i'm experiencing the heartbreaking awareness of the exquisite joy and sorrows of what it means to embody my full humanity. i am amazed at the depth and breadth of our capacity. it's a tremendous responsibility AND opportunity.
such a privilege!
Friday, July 24, 2009
right down
am at Bahay Kalipay, using Pi's wittle ittle computer.
precarious and tempermental little cutie (the computer, that is.)
it's ergonomically challenging to use it.
one false move and the cord LAN line gets disconnected.
just look at it cross-eyed, and you'll see.
the power cord is plugged into an outlet above my head that likes to fall out of the socket and bonk me.
aray ko.
and, i'm sitting on this narrow bamboo couch, contorting 'cause why again...
kasi, naka-adik na ako sa facebook.
and i wanted to check my gmail.
and i wanted to check fares to iloilo (next trip).
and, and, and.
got this Junot Diaz quote from my friend Michelle's fb status:
'Immigration is a process that tends to self-select certain kinds of people, which is a way of saying that immigrants tend to be superhuman already. To leave everything behind takes a superhuman act of will, even for those who did it accidentally or flippantly.'
i get this one. right down to my bones.
i think about my parents and all they've endured.
i think of me and all that i've endured.
immigrant.
yes, i am an immigrant.
it's a label that i've eschewed for most of my life.
part of my decolonization process has been reclaiming it.
not celebrating it or abhoring it.
not embracing it or pushing it away.
just accepting it.
letting it in finally...
to take her rightful place.
it should be noted that my process in accepting it involved celebrating it and embracing it as well as abhoring and pushing it away. the only way i could find the middle was, first, to define the boundaries. or does the middle define the boundaries. sometimes. and, in this case, in particular, i did it baliktad.
i think about finding Home.
what home is.
what Home is.
i think about my Path.
and how a lot of it has been about renunciation.
not in a derelict or violent way.
or even showy or martyr-flavored.
all the labels and identities need to be put down, so that it is clear if they are meant to be taken up again.
even how they are to be taken up again.
it's been an interesting journey.
i realize that i have been somewhat influenced by this insidious misconception that this 'annihilation' of sorts is violent and somehow final.
it's not.
nothing lasts.
i have to be willing to put it all down.
so that i know what makes sense to pick up again.
what i pick up i can re-shape, re-imagine so that it is more useful and intentional.
this kind of tinkering implies a deeper process of knowing myself, knowing the stuff i'm made of. knowing what i inherited. knowing what i developed. knowing what is actual and useful and actually useful. and knowing what is just drama.
what a big, big learning.
what a shift.
what a life.
precarious and tempermental little cutie (the computer, that is.)
it's ergonomically challenging to use it.
one false move and the cord LAN line gets disconnected.
just look at it cross-eyed, and you'll see.
the power cord is plugged into an outlet above my head that likes to fall out of the socket and bonk me.
aray ko.
and, i'm sitting on this narrow bamboo couch, contorting 'cause why again...
kasi, naka-adik na ako sa facebook.
and i wanted to check my gmail.
and i wanted to check fares to iloilo (next trip).
and, and, and.
got this Junot Diaz quote from my friend Michelle's fb status:
'Immigration is a process that tends to self-select certain kinds of people, which is a way of saying that immigrants tend to be superhuman already. To leave everything behind takes a superhuman act of will, even for those who did it accidentally or flippantly.'
i get this one. right down to my bones.
i think about my parents and all they've endured.
i think of me and all that i've endured.
immigrant.
yes, i am an immigrant.
it's a label that i've eschewed for most of my life.
part of my decolonization process has been reclaiming it.
not celebrating it or abhoring it.
not embracing it or pushing it away.
just accepting it.
letting it in finally...
to take her rightful place.
it should be noted that my process in accepting it involved celebrating it and embracing it as well as abhoring and pushing it away. the only way i could find the middle was, first, to define the boundaries. or does the middle define the boundaries. sometimes. and, in this case, in particular, i did it baliktad.
i think about finding Home.
what home is.
what Home is.
i think about my Path.
and how a lot of it has been about renunciation.
not in a derelict or violent way.
or even showy or martyr-flavored.
all the labels and identities need to be put down, so that it is clear if they are meant to be taken up again.
even how they are to be taken up again.
it's been an interesting journey.
i realize that i have been somewhat influenced by this insidious misconception that this 'annihilation' of sorts is violent and somehow final.
it's not.
nothing lasts.
i have to be willing to put it all down.
so that i know what makes sense to pick up again.
what i pick up i can re-shape, re-imagine so that it is more useful and intentional.
this kind of tinkering implies a deeper process of knowing myself, knowing the stuff i'm made of. knowing what i inherited. knowing what i developed. knowing what is actual and useful and actually useful. and knowing what is just drama.
what a big, big learning.
what a shift.
what a life.
Monday, July 20, 2009
New Light Church
i dozed off this afternoon during the afternoon rain.
i woke up, and i heard gospel music.
i thought i was in Berkeley.
there is this church next to the Center called New Light Church.
on Sundays, the minister there rocks it out.
and, i woke up earlier thinking it was Sunday in Berkeley.
strange.
i'm here in Sta. Rita.
the singing i heard was a neighbor, across the street, singing videoke.
for the second night in a row.
i woke up, and i heard gospel music.
i thought i was in Berkeley.
there is this church next to the Center called New Light Church.
on Sundays, the minister there rocks it out.
and, i woke up earlier thinking it was Sunday in Berkeley.
strange.
i'm here in Sta. Rita.
the singing i heard was a neighbor, across the street, singing videoke.
for the second night in a row.
jeep to Guagua
for my big adventure, i took a jeep to Guagua today.
i had to get money from the bank to pay for rent and things.
it’s been raining, so i expected it to be a little flooded.
BAHA.
i was walking in water that came up mid-calf.
i threw up in my mouth a little when i thought of the raw sewage and hepatitis that MUST be swirling around in it. i hated the feeling of floating plastic bags lingering around my ankles. i hated looking down at the murky brackish water and seeing the rainbow slick of oil on top. ewww.
brown low top converse.
i may leave those behind when i leave.
i continue to unpack.
today would have been a good day to do laundry, if i had my act together.
i so don’t have my act together.
i’m thinking of going to manila tomorrow.
need to get some plane tix.
nainis ako kanina.
Sherwin was asking me for money to help pay for repairs for my car that he wrecked 6 weeks ago.
grrr.
Pipsy is still out of commission.
nainis ako talaga.
it occurs to me how much i dislike packing and unpacking.
blech.
i’m getting better at not overpacking.
sort of.
everything i own is wrinkled at the moment.
i just threw things into my suitcase all haphazard when i left the states.
roosters crowing.
yes, i missed that in the states.
grey outside ulit.
the afternoon rain is coming.
i had to get money from the bank to pay for rent and things.
it’s been raining, so i expected it to be a little flooded.
BAHA.
i was walking in water that came up mid-calf.
i threw up in my mouth a little when i thought of the raw sewage and hepatitis that MUST be swirling around in it. i hated the feeling of floating plastic bags lingering around my ankles. i hated looking down at the murky brackish water and seeing the rainbow slick of oil on top. ewww.
brown low top converse.
i may leave those behind when i leave.
i continue to unpack.
today would have been a good day to do laundry, if i had my act together.
i so don’t have my act together.
i’m thinking of going to manila tomorrow.
need to get some plane tix.
nainis ako kanina.
Sherwin was asking me for money to help pay for repairs for my car that he wrecked 6 weeks ago.
grrr.
Pipsy is still out of commission.
nainis ako talaga.
it occurs to me how much i dislike packing and unpacking.
blech.
i’m getting better at not overpacking.
sort of.
everything i own is wrinkled at the moment.
i just threw things into my suitcase all haphazard when i left the states.
roosters crowing.
yes, i missed that in the states.
grey outside ulit.
the afternoon rain is coming.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
unpacking...
a little gecko, about an inch long greeted me hello in the spoon rest, next to my stove in the kitchen this morning.
a kind of love and appreciation swoll up in me as i entered my apartment yesterday.
Rowell.
he cleaned.
perhaps, it is the Virgo in me...
coming home to a clean space is one of the best gifts ever.
today, he came over and we ate Fatima’s thighs.
i am convinced they taste like we are licking pink rose petals.
i did some unpacking today.
figurative, that is.
the literal is still strewn about my (ahem, clean) place.
i am eating this stale Trader Joe’s trail mix.
(i gotta stop.)
yesterday, first thing, i went to the palengke and bought load for my cell phone and computer. then, 2 carrots, a cucumber, a bunch of lemongrass, a huge hunk of young ginger, and 6 eggs. oh, and 2 fresh buko. set me back p130, which is less than $3.
it’s 1:37am on monday.
and i am acutely aware that i’m being antisocial and sleeping during waking hours and waking during sleeping hours.
my door is closed, so folks can’t peek in.
i brought no pasalubong home except for Fatima’s thighs for Rowell.
i just finished bathing with my bucket and tabo.
i used Rashmi’s amber soap.
i love that i can smell her here.
she and Pete got married here after all.
i inhale sharply the skin on my arm and i imagine her hugging me.
it’s a bit of comfort amidst all this unpacking.
i have this vague feeling that i don’t belong here anymore.
i don’t know if it is real or not.
am i creating it so that it is easier for me to let go?
is Inang Bayan saying, “go na, Anak,”?
i can hardly say.
time will tell i think.
i don’t know what time it is if i don’t look at my phone or this computer.
it’s grey for most of the day.
it rainy and cool.
i have to unpack literally soon.
i just remembered a wet bathing suit somewhere in there…
no, wait, i washed it.
phew.
been writing and sleeping.
and sleeping and writing.
like there is no other thing.
a kind of love and appreciation swoll up in me as i entered my apartment yesterday.
Rowell.
he cleaned.
perhaps, it is the Virgo in me...
coming home to a clean space is one of the best gifts ever.
today, he came over and we ate Fatima’s thighs.
i am convinced they taste like we are licking pink rose petals.
i did some unpacking today.
figurative, that is.
the literal is still strewn about my (ahem, clean) place.
i am eating this stale Trader Joe’s trail mix.
(i gotta stop.)
yesterday, first thing, i went to the palengke and bought load for my cell phone and computer. then, 2 carrots, a cucumber, a bunch of lemongrass, a huge hunk of young ginger, and 6 eggs. oh, and 2 fresh buko. set me back p130, which is less than $3.
it’s 1:37am on monday.
and i am acutely aware that i’m being antisocial and sleeping during waking hours and waking during sleeping hours.
my door is closed, so folks can’t peek in.
i brought no pasalubong home except for Fatima’s thighs for Rowell.
i just finished bathing with my bucket and tabo.
i used Rashmi’s amber soap.
i love that i can smell her here.
she and Pete got married here after all.
i inhale sharply the skin on my arm and i imagine her hugging me.
it’s a bit of comfort amidst all this unpacking.
i have this vague feeling that i don’t belong here anymore.
i don’t know if it is real or not.
am i creating it so that it is easier for me to let go?
is Inang Bayan saying, “go na, Anak,”?
i can hardly say.
time will tell i think.
i don’t know what time it is if i don’t look at my phone or this computer.
it’s grey for most of the day.
it rainy and cool.
i have to unpack literally soon.
i just remembered a wet bathing suit somewhere in there…
no, wait, i washed it.
phew.
been writing and sleeping.
and sleeping and writing.
like there is no other thing.
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