The Angst of Watching Heneral Luna

As the credits began rolling on the movie Heneral Luna, moviegoers started clapping their hands. A well-made film, Heneral Luna rightfully deserved applause. But I didn’t feel like joining in. I felt more like crying. I felt like mourning. That was what the film did to me.

The film focused (at least for me) on a flawed but brave and brilliant leader who loved his country more than his own life and on his countrymen who only saw him as an enemy, a hindrance, a rival and maybe even a spoiled child that needed to be appeased temporarily. 

What made it hard for his countrymen to see him in a positive light? As a man who could win the war and save the country? Or maybe I ask the wrong questions. Maybe the question should be, what was more important to Heneral Luna’s colleagues and countrymen? Was it really about fighting for independence and freedom? Or were there “more important” concepts—or realities—than that for them? Is it preservation of the status quo, protection of personal wealth, fulfillment of ambition, or a lack of self-belief that one’s own countrymen can run the country?

From the reviews I’ve read, it is obvious that Heneral Luna’s creators did not need a lot of courage of come up with this movie---for there are no stones cast on them, no self-righteous indignation displayed by viewers or critics alike. In fact, the film has received overwhelming praise and support.

Its widespread support (obviously not from theater owners though), if I may hazard a guess, could be because we are honest enough to admit that the film is right about the ugly side of our nature as Filipinos. But that is the very reason I am sad. Why this easy acceptance? Why the lack of discomfort or unease? Are we resigned to the fact that this ugly nature will always get the better of us and in the macro-level, our history? Can it not spur us into self-introspection and later, personal uncomfortable realizations that may help us to think deeply, and then lead us to DO somethingfor the love of country?

The fact that this film is in danger of being pulled out to give way to foreign and mainstream films feels like we are witnessing Heneral Luna’s murder all over again—by his own countrymen.

No amount of Aldub distraction could get this movie out of my mind! Then again, I guess the angst I got from watching Heneral Luna shouldn’t be dealt with denial or distraction.

I hope that I will be able to do something daily, whether small or big, that will prove Heneral Luna was right to love the motherland.

The Country I Love

I once blogged about my experiences riding the jeepney. It was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted post about what a daily commuter usually has to “suffer” in the jeepney. Surprisingly, it sparked a word war between two visitors who frequently comment on my blog posts!

When one writes about the Philippines—no matter how apolitical the post may be—it will strangely, somehow become controversial. Nothing seems to be a safe topic if it is about the Philippine culture, lifestyle or society. I haven’t blogged about Pinoy food yet but it had been a topic of conversation one time and somehow, still led to a gripe session about how we don’t know how to market our food abroad when it definitely can compete with other countries’ cuisine! Oh well...can talking about the weather be safe?

You know what they say about the thin line between love and hate? I guess that basically sums up how many of us feel about this country: I love the fact that it has such breath-taking sceneries.I love the hopefulness of the Filipino which may make them sad and even heartbroken about tragedies but seldom bitter. I love how easily people flash a smile even to strangers and how a laugh can just bubble up at any moment—and not just amongst children! I love the Filipino ingenuity and creativity. I love the musicality and artistry.

But for every single thing I love, there are things I don’t love. The corruption that seems to have stained the very fabric of our government and society. The desperate poverty that is so in-your-face and yet the privileged do not seem to see. The big companies, international or Filipino-owned, who cunningly find creative ways of squeezing every single centavo from us. The undisciplined way we conduct ourselves-whether in driving, crossing the streets, throwing trash or handling money.

I could go on—but I don’t want to be sad on the eve of the Philippine Independence Day. So what should I do? Concentrate on the good things and shut my eyes on the bad? Face the harsh realities and drag myself around like a victim?

I guess I should find the balance. I can pick up my trash. I can tell people of the beautiful sites they can visit. I can refuse to pay “under the table” even if it would speed up the process. I can buy products made by small Philippine-owned enterprises. I can pray. I can stick it out and insist on loving the country where God has placed me since birth.

Dear Philippines, I do love you. Despite the warts.

Home Is.

Right when I deplane and step into the arrival area of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport, I feel like I have come home. Right when I step out of the Victory Liner bus and onto the Baguio terminal, I feel like I’m home. Right when I get pass the immigration of Singapore’s Changi Airport or when I step out of the Batangas-Calapan ferry and onto the Calapan pier, that exact same feeling descends on me. Obviously, I feel that same way when I enter my little house in Quezon City or when I pull my luggage off the carousel at Davao’s Bangoy International Airport.

That coming home feeling has become so familiar to me, like an old trusted friend. I guess for someone who’s hard put to answer that million-dollar question—“where are you from?” --this should be of some comfort. For to consider a place home assumes a feeling of welcome.

Home also spells tradition and interestingly enough, I find myself sticking to certain “traditions” when I am in these familiar places: in Baguio—I am obligated to go to the Central Market and check out the fresh produce and buy freshly ground blend of Italian Espresso/Benguet/Batangas/Arabic fine ground coffee. In Thailand- I have to go for foot massage and get groceries at Big C and practice my meagre Thai with whomever is patient enough to listen. In Singapore, I have to meet with good friends scattered around the nation state and go for my regular walk along the Esplanade. In Calapan, I have to go to market and get my favourite dried fish, Bia and also lounge on the rattan hammock of the place I always stay when I am there

And yet with the comfort of the familiar, there is also a sense of detachment. I know that I cannot get myself so settled because once I arrive, the clock starts ticking and time inches me nearer to departure.

Home brings with it feelings of welcome and familiarity but never of permanence. Home as with most everything in life for me, has a transient ring to it.

Yet there is no sadness in acknowledging the reality of transience, for I know that every day I live, I inch closer to a place where transience is graciously replaced by the word forever.

I'm In Love with This Old Gizzer

I have heard his name before in passing and saw his books when I browse in bookstores but could not be bothered--another self help book, I'd always mutter under my breathe as I sweep my eyes haughtily over the pile of How To books. Not for me, I would say.

Then I went on a Leadership seminar where Jack Welch was one of the resource speakers (unfortunately not in person, just on video). My first thought was gosh, he's so so old! I had to navigate through the gravel that is his Bostonian accent but once I did, boy, was I bowled over.

His straight, no-nonsense ways was a breathe of fresh air. He is tough; a pretty decent man who may come off as cruel if you go by some of his comments, but he is a generous soul who cares for people and how they may grow and be empowered even as he cares for his company's mission and values.

Enjoy and reflect: (Beware, its an hour long, but please take the time.)


It's just sad that a lot of what he says is so true--even in communities of faith. The point, I think, of his message here is neatly summarized in Jesus's words: The Truth Shall Set You Free. (John 8:32)

WORDS.

I love words. Be it written or spoken. I love the way it soothes, tickles, excites, empowers, heals and enlightens. I love how they are never inanimate—the reader or hearer who receives the word brings it to a certain degree of life as he takes it in. Even boredom is a sign of life!

I cannot imagine a world without words. Without words, how can I be transported all the way to exotic lands I would never have stepped foot on had I not read about them? Without words, how can my heartstrings be tugged by stories of friendship, of pain, of love? Without words how can I release my thoughts and emotions to the outside world? Without words, how can I describe to you who I am, how I am and where I want to be? Without words, how can I imbibe more wisdom that can bring me to a better place and become a better person?

Yet in sad irony, words can also simply be words. Not inanimate--as it still somehow finds itself given life in one’s mind. Yet it can be inactive and unproductive. Words can be deceptive—the beauty of prose can distract you from its hollow reality. Words can be powerless and fruitless—serving only to massage the spirit and cuddle the will (well, at least I am smarter, holier and more important after hearing/reading all those words, etc.)—making a cozy nest that tempts one to shift into a more comfortable position and stay that way for as long as possible.

Today I heard a lot of words. A plethora of beautiful and exciting words: Purpose, Meaning, Celebration, Engagement, Courage, Rewards, Audacity, Greatness, Lead, Dream, Hope, Passion.

Today, I felt myself wrapped up in a lovely cocoon of emotions spun by those words: warmth, inspiration, hopefulness, excitement and joy. Oh if only I can just stay in here and enjoy its warm, secure comfort.

Happily, I have been reminded that words are made even more beautiful, more awesome, more glorious when life is breathed into them.

‘And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the father full of grace and truth.’ John 1:14

In Praise of Food

Not many words bring as much comfort as the word food. It comes a close second to the word family (and I suspect an overlap). And might even trump the word home—especially in this semi-rootless society where most everyone is stumped when asked where they’re from!

For one, food takes one back to fond memories of childhood--remember that memorable scene in the movie Ratatouille when food critic Anton Ego first came to the Gusteau's restaurant? One forkful of the simple, unassuming ratatouille and the hardened Ego was instantly transported to tranquil childhood days when home-cooked food was equivalent to being wrapped in his mother’s soft loving arms.

In different ways—some more dramatic and some less than Ego’s experience—food has that comforting effect on us. I can still taste the full-bodied Cantonese pork rib soup my mom used to whip up in the kitchen and remember how she accidentally got as kids drunk when she spiked the soup with whiskey (the taste wasn’t strong enough, she said) and was too impatient to let the alcohol evaporate first before serving. To date, that is still the best soup I have ever tasted. Hic!

Adjectives like scrumptious, crispy, succulent, luscious and delectable are enough to make one’s eyes glaze over and one’s mouth water—and food is not even mentioned with these adjectives! That’s how elemental food is in our psyche and thus how powerful.

On the downside, the absence of comfort also reveals itself glaringly in food—how many a mighty Fear Factor champion, having jumped tall buildings and wrestled with crocs, shrink into nerveless cowards in the face of the almighty balut? How many a courageous missionary, having left home and hearth to live for Christ in a foreign land find their determination in shambles in the face of eerily strange tastes that seem too insidiously corrupt their palates?

Food is also a neutral witness that somehow finds a way of insinuating itself into the ebb and flow of life and relationships. Even as it reveals one’s cowardice and tests one’s limits. It has also seen friendships formed, romances kindled—or rekindled, and families reunited. It has seen wounded spirits soothed, broken hearts healed (read: chocolates) and happiness deepened into joy.

Even when you hate the food your good friend adores (read: durian), you accept the difference and embrace the uniqueness and diversity of life that food symbolizes in reckless joyful abandon.

More than putting a man on the moon, I think food is the greatest of man’s invention and the one of best representations of the grace of God—you know, that awesome Guy who whipped up manna in the desert and turned water into wine?

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PS. Yes, my dear Blogmates, I am back-and hopefully with more consistency! :) I realized I missed blogging. Will make my visits soon! xx

New Day

Do you realize that we've just about wrapped up our first decade of the millennium? How does thinking from that perspective sound? I look back and cringed at some of the hairy bits of the past 10 years and wonder how I survived them. I also look back and smile at some of the good ol' days that the last 10 years have created.

So what's next for me? Will my past define my future? Will I be able to break free from the hairy bits and be released to create new "good ol' days?"

Hope this little video below will encourage you as you face a new day, today.

Hang On by Smash Mouth

Enjoy!




Things are getting weird, things are getting tough,
Nothings making sense but you keep on looking up
They tell you to be true, you're trying everyday
To keep it on the real still you got to find a way
To make your mamma happy, to make your papa proud
You'll wanna turn it up and all you hear is tone it down

So gather round I'm here to say
You'll never make everybody's day
But while you're around you might as well, catch the tiger by it's tail

And hang on hang on hang on
Everybody just get on get on get on
Get started and go on go on go on
Everybody just hold on

Sometimes I wanna cry, and throw the towel in
They try to beat me down but i take it on the chin
and everywhere i go the people all the same
and they just wanna know that everything will be ok
when things are getting rough you'll turn it back around
you gotta turn it up when they tell you tone it down.

And hang on hang on hang on
Everybody just get on get on get on
Get started and go on go on go on
Everybody just hold on
Just hang on

Honesty

Yes, honestly, one of the gazillions of reasons I have not been blogging is because I dont think I have much to say these days. Somedays its easier to just write a one-liner thought in my Facebook status than to post a whole blog. So this "Honesty" post is actually a good way of posting on a blog---by answering questions. So guys, its tag time again!

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Can you fill this out without lying (it's not hard)? You've been tagged, so now you need to answer all the questions HONESTLY. At the end, choose at least 8 people to be tagged. Don't forget to tag me!

To do this, copy this entire message, then go to "notes" under tabs on your profile page, start a new note, paste these instructions in the body of the note, delete my answers, and type yours. Easy!

Next, tag people and list their namesat the bottom. Have fun! :)


1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
Home-cooked oatmeal champorado.

2. Where was your profile picture taken?
on a boat in Boracay

3. Can you play the guitar?
Nope

4. Name someone who made you laugh today?
Well, yesterday it was Pastor Peter Tan Chi at church.

5. How late did you stay up last night and why?
11:30pm, ironing clothes.

6. If you could move somewhere else, would you?
Not really...on second thought, that would depend where.

7. Ever been kissed under fireworks?
No(t yet)

8. Which of your friends lives closest to you on Facebook?
Tess, my landlady!

9. Do you believe ex's can be friends?
Yes

10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper?
Not a fan.

11. When was the last time you cried?
a few weeks ago.

12. Who took your profile picture
Myself.

13. Who was the last person you took a picture of?
A group of people in a workshop I conducted.

14. Was yesterday better than today?
About the same

15. Can you live a day without TV?
Yes.

16. Are you upset about anything?
Yes.

17. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
Some are, some aren't...

18. Are you a bad influence?
Err....depends.

19. Night out or night in?
Either way, depends on the occasion and the weather.

20. What item(s) could you not go without during the day?
Water, Contact Lenses, Toothbrush, Watch, Cellphone.


22. What does the last text message in your inbox say?
Requesting for prayer for the families devastated by landslide in Baguio. :(

23. How do you feel about your life right now?
Thankful despite circumstances.

24. Do you hate anyone?
No

25. If we were to look in your Email inbox, what would we find most?
E-tickets, messages from friends, and spam..!

26. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?
Yep

27. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?
Yes but I think the person was not meaning me as a person, but something I did.

28. What song is stuck in your head?
Vienna by Billy Joel

billy joel - vienna songs
Download free mp3 | Download free music

29. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be?
Jesus

30. Wanna have grandkids before you're 50?
I dont think so...

31. Name something you have to do tomorrow:
Go to work.

32. Do you think too much or too little?
Too much.

33. Do you smile a lot?
I hope so!

Tagged: Beng, Aleks, Abaniko, Single Guy, Carlotta, Major Tom, Wil, Toe.

Beating the Blues

For the first time in a long time, I am home on a Saturday. Schedule-less. Mind you, that is after emailing out reports and other official what-nots just a moment ago. My prayer partner has family duties to fulfill, so here I am at home, in front of the laptop, listening to online radio. Not one bone in my body desires to go out in this wet rainy day. My stomach is grumbling and I have no inclination to forage my cupboard for food to feed myself.

The past two weeks had been unbelievable and the fact that I managed to get through it with mildly flying colors—according to objective evaluations—surprises me quite a bit. I guess this is just another proof that the One who is at work within me continues to do so, quietly and almost unnoticed until I find time to enjoy the luxury of hindsight, which is today.

Those words from that much-used-to-the-point-of-roll-my-eyes-cliché “Footprints in the Sand” find their reality in my life, especially in the past half year, a difficult season to put it mildly.

This is one reason for the infrequent blog posts. No use spreading negativity as there’s already much of that floating around in the real and the web world. I have mentioned to Beng that I am probably better off going on a semi-hiatus with the season I am in.

But will all of my “issues”, I am thankful for lots of stuff that help me cope---oh yeah, and friends, too—can’t leave them out now, can I? :)

So aside from God and friends, how am I managing the blues?

1. Tennis – it’s a great metaphor for life. The best thing is learning from the fighting spirit of my tennis hero and also from all the mini-sagas that the world of tennis churns out.

2. Music – I usually am not into plugging my ears for the sake of music but the past couple of months, this way of commuting has helped me get into a better mood when I go to work.

3. Movies – how great is it to forget your own issues even for a while, laugh at all the zany stuff that happens on screen, have your heart moved by characters on screen who have chosen to redeem their lives in creative inspiring ways or even get yourself all horrified at seeing how life could’ve been much worse than your present situation!

3. Sleep – need I say more?

5. Thai Massage - nothing like it!

6. Sense of Humor – I am truly grateful to God for gifting me with a slightly irreverent, off-the-wall humor which has saved many a blue day for me.

…and many more, how about you, how do you beat the blues?

Love Without Talking

I've been a bit "under the weather" lately--in more ways than one. So nothing much to blog about, til I stumbled on this video. Cute. Thought you guys would like it, too. :)

12 mins Video, No dialog

Mourning for Something More

“Ako’y nagpapasalamat sa inyong lahat at lalong-lalo na sa Panginoong Diyos, na ginawa niya akong isang Pilipino. Talagang karangalan ko iyon, na maging katulad niyo…" – Corazon C. Aquino (1933 – 2009)**

Tita Cory gave me a long-stemmed yellow rose way back in 1986 when she was on that historic presidential campaign trail. Those were the heady days of yellow Fridays, and the subversive Mr. & Ms. magazine.

Those early days, I didn’t know much about politics—but I recognized then, in human form, abstract words like hope, faith, justice—and consequently, other abstract words like despair and injustice. Tita Cory embodied the former—until the day she died.

I feel like I am in a strange time warp as I commute the past few days and see yellow ribbons tied in buses, jeepneys and fluttering from many a lamp post and tree branch. The TV images of confetti-filled skies in Makati and the truck carrying the flag-draped coffin and surrounded with yellow blossoms—all brought back the memories of 1983 and the death of Tita Cory’s husband Ninoy.

The memories are bittersweet—gone now are two iconic figures of Philippine democracy. As the nation goes into mourning, I wonder---are we just mourning for Tita Cory’s passing or are we mourning for something more?

Tita Cory was not just an icon of democracy---but an icon of virtues tragically lacking in the Philippine political landscape: decency, simplicity, integrity, humility, and patriotism. Even the staunchest anti-Cory person can never accuse her of corruption. That she made mistakes during her presidency nobody argues against. But who doesn’t make mistakes? At least with Tita Cory, she did it with the interest of the nation at heart.

Her passing means we have lost something very rare but hopefully, in view of God’s compassion for this suffering land, not irreplaceable.

**"I give thanks to all of you, and most especially to the Lord for making me a Filipino. This is truly an honor for me—to be like all of you…"

O Life, How Cruel Thou Art

Life can be cruel.

In the wee hours of this morning, I was again reminded of this fact—not that it is something we need to be reminded of.

And so, as Roger Federer lifted his record 15th Grand Slam trophy up for all the 15,000 (and more around the world) Wimbledon crowd to behold—everyone, including the champion was keenly aware of the man with the backwards cap, silent, head bowed, lips grim, loosely holding the runner up plate.

After over 4 hours of tightly-contested, nail-biting, cardiac-arrestable tennis, the victor was—the usual suspect. From Fed’s point of view—one could say that he only proved to all and sundry that he is a true champion—one who knew how to fight like there was no tomorrow even when it seemed like doom was inevitable. Alas, some storylines give you all the drama of twists and turns, only to end predictably.

Alas for Roddick. He fought with courage—it was true grit in action. A lesser man would have just thrown in the towel halfway through the 5th set--and be consoled by the fact that he did try his best. But fought he did, with all his might but still he lost.

The problem with tennis is that it is a lot more like life than Hollywood: The brave David-warrior does not always win his war against Goliath-gladiator.

But just like life—tennis is unpredictable. And unpredictability can bring with it, hope.

Oh the drama! No wonder I am in love with tennis.

Disappointment with a capital R

Oh well, disappointments are supposedly to make us not take life's joys for granted.

Sigh.

"...it's unfortunate. I'm sad for him, because it must have been a very difficult decision to make." - RF on Rafa Nadal's withdrawal from Wimbledon due to injury.

Nice to know Roger feels the same way. :)

I *heart* the Jeepney

Arghh…there’s too much negativity going around these days. Let’s talk about something fun! How about...


...the good ol’ iconic jeepney!

Something about this WWII army vehicle-inspired speeding piece of tin makes me feel sentimentally patriotic.

In the jeepney, you get to literally rub elbows (and upper arms, legs, feet, bum—you know what I mean) with pinoys from all walks of life. The nervous young man checking to make sure he has all the papers needed to get that overseas job on the luxury liner. The heavy set, well-coiffed-by-a-gallon-of-hairspray woman furiously fanning herself as her make up melts in the heat. The harried looking mom scolding her sulking daughter who forgot to bring her baon. The driver loudly swapping querida stories with his conductor in Cebuano. The irritated old man trying to avoid being suffocated by an oblivious young lady’s long hair streaming relentlessly towards him (obviously not a scene for shampoo commercials!).

In the jeepney, you get to feel all sorts of emotions. You are touched when a man quickly decides to get off earlier so the old lady with her heavy basket can have his seat. You see your life flash before your eyes as your speeding jeep misses a rampaging bus by an inch. You are on the verge of violence when a lady squeezes herself behind you to take the seat nearest the exit—when there’s nobody else in the jeep—so she can get you to pass her fare to the driver. Grrrr. You keep yourself from laughing out loud when you see your tanned, tough-looking jeepney driver admiring his newly-manicured nails (painted with clear nail polish)—but of course, checking them out the manly way, that is, fingernails curled inwards and not splayed out!

In the jeepney, you experience the ebb and flow of Pinoy life. When election comes, they’re bound to be plastered with election stickers of their favorite candidate (I swear I saw "FPJ in 2010!"). If you don’t have a TV at home (like me), don’t worry, the jeepneys will blast your ears off with the latest dance music that’s hit the popular TV shows. You know that life is really hard when the driver and a passenger are red in the face quarreling over whether he should pay P10 or P11.

Of course, if you are a foreigner new to the Philippines, a jeepney will orient you to Filipino culture by instructing you: that drivers are sweet lovers; barya lang sa umaga (pay with loose change in the morning), that you should “full” the string to stop; that only those named Judas do not pay their fare--and God knows who they are; that jeepneys are owned by people named Jun-jun, Ging-Ging, Au-au and Mak-mak; pangit ang dumidikit (those who tailgate are ugly).

By looking at the jeepneys’s artwork, you discover that Filipinos are spiritual (eg. painting of Virgin Mary, Bible verses spelled out all around the jeepney’s ceiling, the rosary dangling from the rearview mirror); that we love all things foreign (eg. Mickey Mouse, Garfield, Japanese Manga, the American flag and the Mercedes Benz symbol installed in the hood); and of course, that despite the state we are in, we are still proud of our country (eg. white sand beaches, Mt Mayon, Banaue Rice Terraces)

No other portrays life in the Philippines like the jeepney—the scary parts, the beautiful side, the sad moments, and the funny bits.

So, what do you love about the Philippines?

Okey, Fine, I am Happy for Roger.

My feelings for Roger Federer have always been a bit ambiguous. Partly because I root for Rafa, and partly because he can sometimes be arrogant and a sore loser. But seeing him crying tears of joy as he held on tightly to that French Open trophy which had eluded him for four long years, you can’t help but feel happy for the guy.

I guess there’s something in each of us that makes us understand in a kindred sort of way, how it would feel like to finally achieve what we have long worked for or to see an almost impossible dream suddenly fulfilled.

Even if you are not a tennis fan, I am sure that you can at least relate to that feeling, right?

Allez, Roger…until Wimbledon.

Back from AWOL

Some things you just don’t see coming. In my case, I didn’t see blogworld AWOL coming--but it did. The next thing I knew, its been six months since I last posted anything. How did that happen? Well, lots of things happened (and other internet distractions didn't help), like…

-Surviving a long, intense meeting before Christmas.
-Realizing that my nieces have grown a couple of inches taller in my absence.
-Having a few gallons of coffee (in total) with friends over Christmas.
-Crying my eyes out watching Kite Runner and A Mighty Heart back to back.
-Starting a new year’s resolution of keeping track of my spending on Excel (I’ve been good and relatively stingy since!)
-Witnessing The Might Federer sobbing and being comforted by his rival Rafa Nadal.
-Facebooking.
-Stepping on Cambodian soil for the first time.
-Looking like a dust ninja while hanging on for dear life in a Siem Reap Tuk Tuk ride.
-Waiting for flights in different airports.
-Meetings and meetings and oh yeah, meetings.
-Finally seeing my cute bald-headed Irish nephew in person.
-Crying my eyes out (again) reading Khaled Husseini's Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.
-Being treated to a Japanese Onsen in Los Banos for my birthday.
-Having to pick up my jaw from the floor after watching “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.”
-Marathoning through facilitating two-week long workshops.
-Having my bones cracked by a chiropractor for a whole month.
-Discovering my ADD tendencies after a psychological testing (a non-surprise).
-Borrowing a stranger’s cellphone to make a call in Tokyo.
-Discovering I missed blogging.
-Scouring 100 Yen stores.
-Ordering food on my own in a Tokyo fastfood joint (point of pride)
-Having to correct my tendency to refer to myself in the third person (no thanks to Facebook!)
-Sleeping in a hut and waking up to a refreshing view of ricefields.
-Suffering from sunburned knees in Boracay (long story).
-Trying to stay sane and steady as the erratic nature of my life caught up with me.
-Finally around to worship at my church in Manila, which I direly missed.
-Wondering how my blogfriends are doing.
-Enjoying good conversations with taxi drivers on my numerous rides to and from the airport.
-Spending a rare FULL day at home and bonding with my house.
-Helping a friend choose a wedding gown design through YM.
-Finally finishing Season 7 of 24.
-Found out that almost all my recently read books have Boarding Passes for bookmarks.
-Amazed at having teenagers pour their hearts out to me—at first meeting!
-Bumping into so many long lost friends on Facebook.
-Being shocked speechless at Rafa Nadal’s French Open loss. (yup, that was the sound of my heart breaking...)
-Missing Davao.
-Surrendering to a pint of Selecta Gold Chocolate Truffle.
-Having Lectio Divina with a good friend through Skype.
-Deciding to get back to blogging. :)

Peppered on these are good conversations, new friends made and the usual highs and lows of life and work. I was often “seized” with eye-opening insights that I should have taken time to blog about. If the past 6 months is anything to go by—there is much to blog about and look forward to in the latter half.

What were the highlights of the past 6 months for you?

In Love, All Over Again

Before you jump into conclusions, this has nothing to do with the previous post, but everything to do with a book called The Shack.

My friends who have read the book, say the title with a touch of reverence and with eyes opened just a bit wider. And almost always, there’s this nanosecond pause before saying the title, like so: “Have you read…The Shack?”

If that doesn’t get you curious, then nothing would!

At first glance, the cover didn’t help. How warm and inviting is a picture of a lonely old run-down hovel that has seen better days—probably decades ago? To make it less inviting, it is dark and in the dead of winter. Only after I read the whole thing did I take a second look at the cover and notice the hint of something more inviting, more promising.

But the hint of something promising I saw in the eyes of those who have read it was enough to make me curious. So when I was lent a copy, I jumped on it—and so started the journey of falling in love all over again.

Peeking through the first pages of the book, I felt a little bit like Lucy Pevensie when she first opened that old creaky door of The Wardrobe, fumbled through the dark musty closet and suddenly found herself in breathtakingly beautiful Narnia.

What could be beautiful about a story of a father, Mackenzie Allen Philips, who lost his daughter in a tragic and cruel way? The cruelty I read in the first few chapters of the book made me want to quit—it was too painful and stirred up in me an anger that made me forget I was reading fiction. There are enough real-life situations to make one realize this is not just something that only happens in a book.

Yet, to stop reading almost meant leaving a gaping wound open. I had to read through to find my closure. And so throughout the book, I journeyed with Mack. I felt with him his barren loneliness, numbed defeat, bitter bewilderment, stark pain, heart-stopping surprise and later, unspeakable joy.

It showed me a different side of grief, and a refreshing view of The One Person who always gets the blame for every wrong thing in this world. The book showed me how in a wonderfully miraculous way, God upends what man meant for ugliness and evil and turn it into something beautiful and good. It also impressed upon me once again that no-holds-barred love that God has for a stubborn bunch of humans—so much so that He would sacrifice His own power and open Himself up to pain and suffering.

The ironic thing when I was reading this book and almost literally seeing lightbulbs turning on in my mind—is that it is nothing new. The truths are ancient. I read them over and over again in the Good Old Book. Yet being a dulled-by-too-much-hi-tech-entertainment Gen Xer, it took The Shack to take the thickening cataracts off my eyes and see the Bible for what it is, and see God for who He is.

And so I have fallen in love all over again.

I invite you to do the same.

===
P.S. I have since bought my own copy of The Shack. It is cheaper at National Bookstore than at Powerbooks. *grin*

Matchmaker, matchmaker...

Joyce is a happily married mother of one. She met her husband through a matchmaking aunt who spotted her busily organizing an event in Davao. Not that Joyce is hard to spot—she is charming and vivacious—not to mention, pretty!

So she is a strong believer of matchmaking as a very valid, very effective way of finding The One. Not that she has actually hit the jackpot in that area—well, she did when she met her hubby—but I am talking about her own matchmaking attempts.

I once asked her, teasingly, “Aren’t you a bit discouraged that none of your matchmaking attempts have succeeded?”

Her reply? “Not at all! In fact, I am all the more challenged!”

That’s one of the reasons why she is one of my closest friends—her never-say-die attitude towards life, and her active desire for others to get the best out of life (marriage being just one of them).

I say active because she goes all out in helping others. Generous to a fault, she gives of her time in an unbelievable way. As if she is not busy enough with her work and her many ministry projects and preaching assignments, she would go out of her way to do things for friends, spend quality time on the phone with those who need wise advise or just a listening ear, and this is on top of family time. I sometimes find myself catching my breath for her sake as she talks to me about what she has been doing the past week. That is why I treasure all the more the Saturdays we spend together—talking, praying, sometimes crying and often laughing.

She is probably the only one who, aside from my mom and one other friend, I don’t actually mind fussing over me. But more than being the concerned mom, she has been a great friend in both rainy days and sunny ones. She cries with me and laughs with me—always ready to listen even when she has her own pressures that she needs to unburden. My eyes well up as I write this, because I remember those times when I badly needed someone to simply talk to and she, the ever busy mom, would go the extra mile—offering not just a shoulder to cry on but even opening her home to me as a haven to stay, rest, reflect or mend my wounds.

But aside from the rough patches, the sunny days are a joy to share with her as well. She can outtalk me, out-strategize, and outwit me at the best of times. Her charms border to legendary—how she manages to get people to do things for her is sometimes unbelievable. From her, I learn that charm goes a longer way that intimidation or anger. From her, I learn to make sure I don’t come out of the house looking like my passport photo. From her I learn how to handle sticky situations with wisdom and grace.

It has been 8 years now since I really got to know her. When I first came to Manila to work 8 years ago, she being a former churchmate from Davao who I didn’t really know very well, called up to ask me what I need and made herself available for me as I settled myself to city life. And since she is the kind of person that walks the extra mile, it was easy to see how our friendship deepened from there.

Being a matchmaker, of course, she just had to try her hand on me. And being a good friend, I just had to gamely play along! But this is one attempt I think she has given up on—though, to be fair, she has not given up praying!

It should assure her to know that even if she has not yet found success in the matchmaking department—unlike in all other areas—she has actually succeeded in one area that matters more to me—a good match of a friendship.

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Thank you, Jenny for tagging me to write about a gift of grace. It has been a joy to write about Joyce!

Who is the person that you consider God’s gift of grace to you? I am asking this question to: Marilyn, Jophen, and Major Tom.

1. Put the logo in your blog.

2. Share a short story of someone whose life touched yours.

3. Add a link to the person who shared it with you.

4, Tag at least 3 other persons with blogs.

5. Leave a message on their blogs.

One of Those (Good) Days

You know when you have one of those days that you want to put in a bottle, save it for a rainy day pick-you-upper?

Today was one of those days. I slept in and the light rain outside made it cooler than most days and all the more comfortable to snuggle up for another hour of lying in.

I woke up to a still day: no children hollering outside, no carpenters hammering away, no radio blaring news of doom. I curled up with a cup of coffee, reading The Shack, where I am half way—and in a weird way, something in the book reminded me of the two boxes that I had shipped back from the UK, which was due a few days ago. It had been niggling at the back of my mind—with my imagination running wild, something from The Shack stopped me from my imaginings and caused me to just say a short prayer, leaving everything to God. And on I went with my reading.

An hour or so later, what do you know? The boxes arrived! And at just the right time—that is, me being actually home (a rare event) to personally receive it.

I spent part of the afternoon “reuniting” with my stuff from the UK, including a bunch of dried lavenders I picked from the school gardens—now I can enjoy a whiff of the England summer in my Manila abode.

Then it was off to meet up with a friend at the mall (in a taxi with the driver actually giving me back my change…!) for a cheesy movie followed by a simple dinner and good conversation. Then to our pleasant surprise, a live wind orchestra was playing at the mall’s activity center. And so we sat enjoying coffee with the orchestra playing Beatles, Abba, Miss Saigon music, movie soundtracks and Christmas carols.

Now I’m back home and have just successfully assembled a nice lamp I bought in the UK and enjoying its warm glow while listening to quiet music and writing this piece.

If you think of it, there was nothing earthshakingly fantastic about today. But I think of this day as one of those small “bottled” treats tucked in unexpected nooks and crannies of life’s road to help us along in the journey. They could be something as simple as enjoying a bowl of Lucky Me Pancit Canton while reading greetings from long lost friends on my Facebook wall or chatting away ‘til past midnight with a friend on YM.

I am grateful that the Father knows enough to keep these “treats” sweet and simple, lest this pilgrim takes it all for granted and sets too high a bar on contentment.

The grass on my side of the fence is green!