This Little Light

I remember my good Angkong (lolo or grandfather) who established a small restaurant when he settled in the country.  I, being the eldest boy among the grandchildren, became his right hand person. 

He was known as a good cook, especially with fried noodles and I was a witness of his trade and skills. One of my task was to feed the fire with wood and wood shavings.  I would always be excited when sacks upon sacks of wood shavings would be delivered and poured into the dry storage.   Therefore, I became a vigilant knight protecting the cavern of fire so as for it to remained fiery.  I was my lolo's fire, metaphorically speaking, as he busied himself in the kitchen.

When my aunt took my grandfather away so he could be with her in another house, we closed the business.  With my numerous visits to see my lolo, I saw in him the longing to be back in his old home, and that was ours.  He was fading and his happiness was of my short visits as we drank tea and exchanged witty conversations.  To have that comfort zone taken was just not right.

And most recent, I remembered my childhood because of a sad event and then recalled how I made that fire bright and burning inasmuch as cooking made my grandfather alive and well.  I told myself that I should never take that zest away from my spirit, that I should continue to blaze along the trail.  It also became evident that one hiccup does not make our lives unbearable.  

Just like fire, I should continue to be fervent and bright.  Just like light, I should continue to shine forth and lead.  Just like my lolo, we go on with life not because we make more money but because we love what we do.  Take heed so nobody takes that fire away from you.  Be like fire, transform yourself. 

Realizations

When there's spare time, I would indulge myself to some sketching or crafty things as to bring out the creative juices back in me.  With some pencils, a rubber and a lamp, I decided to sit down and sketch some fruits at first, to see whether I can actually do shadows. 

I realized that life is like sketching and in that it is easy to begin but difficult to continue.  And along the way there will be a lot of erasures, as I am unsure and do dislike the shape of my drawings or the play of dark and light.  

I realized that life offers a lot of opportunities and when we accept the challenges, we either succeed or learn from our mistakes.  It is the outlook that is most important.  As I was having a difficult time seeing the length of the shadow I wanted to make, I was in fact, using a rubber to correct my sketches. And I could.  Whatever I make wrong, I can always make them right. 

And when I realized that fruits are amazingly easy to sketch, I decided to change subjects thus the flowers.  In life, I need to seek for adventures and new beginnings to liven up my spirit.  To seek new friendships, smile more, strive for new skills, and be confident of what I can do and do for others.  

Sketching is both fun and frustrating.  Just like life, we can never be happy every moment of our life but we can always see the goodness in all things and smile about them. Be happy and stay happy!

Sand and Stones

Part and parcel of my classroom set-up is a sand table where various activities take place. This time, the table was filled with sand and stones. And as i watch the children engage themselves with these two materials, I am amazed at how they describe the properties of the sand and the stones and on how they manipulate the materials in many varied ways. 

As I always capture the moment, there are so many things I observe when I work with the children around the sand table.  Aside from patience, which is a dying virtue, each child speaks about the significance of their one stone to another via a pattern of colours, of sizes, and of weight.  

The overall aesthetic speaks about the collaborative effort of all the children to contribute in their own little way, a structure as fascinating that of a spiraling stones in varied patterns. 

When the children are proficient in the use of the smaller pebbles to balance one on top of a bigger piece, a sense of accomplishment shows on their faces.

However, it takes one child in my class, a girl with special needs, who made me cry.  She is having difficulty balancing her last piece on top when all of a sudden, she picks some sand, spread them on the stone before placing that one last piece of pebble on top.  It is success!

On this day, I learn that life is not that difficult to face because there is always going to be a solution for a problem.  We need to find that answer whether by doing it on our own or by watching other people do it. Then, we say to ourselves that when there is a will, things are possible. 

Walk With Me

And I will write and write and write until ...

It was some months past when a man had a surprise visit.  It was in a form of a comment from someone he doesn't recognize. Some exchanges were made with proper introductions, and in a bit; those exchanges became rather interesting and enchanting. 

The other person admitted a persona as monstrous, that of a beast, which manifested itself in stories of past events.  That undesirable trait of which was carried throughout, from previous friendships and failed relationships.  

While the other man was considered dense, knowing nothing of the intricacies of what he was attending into.  Formalities were shaken by one long letter and in an instant, perhaps one night of recollection and a day of turbulent emotions, gave way to plunging in, diving and swimming with things that were new to him.  It was like walking through the unknown with bouts of anxiety, fear, and anxiousness.

From exchanging notes of worth to one particular phone call, another first was made and that was to break the barrier of anonymity.  The voices, unknown to each other, that paved the way to a higher level of intimacy. That one night of hello's and how are you's became nightly calls of greetings, revelations, reflections, dialogues and narratives. They were not of the simple kind; they were intense, heavily laden with emotions and drama, with frequent laughter and tears, of stepping into uncertainties, realities and fantasies. 

It became addictive, in a good sense, of knowing that someone is and will be with the man.  One night, he mentioned that dying still permeates in his thoughts even after the change.  He was being selfish, unknowingly hurting the other person with his insensitivities. So when the other half bursted into tears, a realization came into his being and that of being lucky, of being loved, of being thought of, of being affectionately invested, and being taken cared of.  The other person is right, as to why this man have to think of leaving when someone so dear is here to stay with him. 

His was a life of change and of new beginnings brought about by the presence of the other person.  He should be grateful, appreciative and most indebted to that change in him done by one. So in this story of fervent love, I am fortunate to have him. 

Mirrors

Coming back from dinner, I was in deep silence reflecting on things that is going on with my life. My mind was swirling with so many ideas, both great and dreary.  And while I was caught in my daydreaming, I was in awe when I saw what was going on at that time, sundown.

My one year excitement to be in Europe for the summer of 2016, which will be next month, is not going to materialize.  Though I saved enough for this upcoming trip, a series of unfortunate events led me to use up the savings I had.  I cried when I texted my friend that I won't be able to join them.  I was filled with hatred and anger, which I shouldn't be, whenever I remember the people who caused these troubles for me. 

Work have been a perennial stress for me.  I planned to permanently return back home after this summer but some other circumstances prompted me to stay put.  Though my contract was renewed, it wasn't a cause of celebration because work right now is hampered by stagnancy.  I do not grow anymore and the people who work side by side with me are constant source of frustrations. 

I am beginning to feel depress, again.  From wanting to break from solitary presence to a life of companionship, while being free from the worries and stresses of my present work and, to do what I enjoyed doing, traveling.  With all these wanting comes the need, the need to be whole again.  But with the sundown of my life, a new day will come the next day. With the coming sunrise, a hope that with all these defeats, I will become a victor. 

To Sink Roots

I guess it's time you find someone this friend of mine told me to do: sink roots. Sink roots in a place, with a person, to anchor you.  I guess I'll find somebody else.  I was like you before.  I vowed to myself never again. I knew in the end I'd just be a bitter old shrew who teaches by day and does cross stitching by night, swinging in my rocking chair.





I read this passage from a book of which I cannot recall many years ago and it was so impressive that I jotted it down, saved it and then kept it in my stack of memorabilia.  Some months ago, I found the written note tucked in one of my older files of paper. I read it once again and was dumbfounded with how it is so relevant today.

When I read it, many years passed, the words were being spoken to me by the book.  It was sort of mirroring myself of what is to happen in the future. Something unstable and rocky perhaps, a direction I am even unsure.

I have sank roots with regards to teaching, opting to stay here, away from family and friends.  Difficult it was, for missing some of the most important milestones in life. The place where my feet are deeply rooted right now is giving me what I need, materially. But material things are no longer on top of the list. Being away for a long time toils me down. To go back becomes a question.   Maybe to begin anew with life, to find inspiration, to seek solace, or even to sink roots with a person.  

Life becomes a sort of balancing act.  You have to make good choices to stay sane.  So in a scenario where I can be home, would it be a wise choice to proceed when things are even more obscure?  A multitude of questions with unsure answers, life will become like that. And it wouldn't be rosy as well, for the new things I will battle.

So it's undecided until the time comes for it to unfolds itself.  The days, weeks and months of this year will be ticked off as I look into making a final decision. I could be in cloud nine or, just like the passage, a bitter shrew cross- stitching at night. 

Changes Out and In

As I celebrated beginnings with endings, I also happen to take photographs of growth, buds and evergreens.  Quietly nestled amongst the towering trees, they came out of their hidings and produced some of the most amazing patterns in nature, and not to mention, life.  The changes that they transform themselves remind me of what I can do with mine. 

Rosy pink, just like the beginning of love.

White and delicate, its feathery petals remind me of relationships.

Buds, clustered, huddled together give a sense of togetherness.

Green, to turn white, a transformation in action.

Tiny, yet powerful, the fragrance alone brings forth a feeling of worth.

And lastly, ferns growing among smooth stones, tells me that nothing is impossible. 

Shy

I used to gather grass nearby our old house to feed the rabbits I had as pets. There was always an occasion for me to spot certain interesting things in my daily harvest. One of which is a plant called Mimosa Pudica or Sensitive Plant wherein the discovery of it closing by merely touching it fascinated me boundless at a very young age.

I am a very shy person since I was a little lad. I simply make excuses when asked to attend any social gatherings including our own.  I feigned illness during weekends when there was a scheduled visit to my relatives' home. I am socially challenged and I dreaded family get-together with aunts, uncles and cousins.  Though I love to see my grandparents, it was the ensuing conversation and questioning that pulverized me to a pulp.  I just do not have the temerity to answer back, always lost for words or afraid of judgmental remarks.  I was diffident, I shut myself off like a Sensitive Plant.

But time is healing me, making me open up to more safe situations.  I am anxious of big parties but I thrive in small ones.  I can even be the funny man or the source of joyful encounters.  I have plenty of stories to share and an exuberance to match.  This is within a smaller group though, like two or three.  

One day, the Mimosa Pudica in me will open and will never shut again.  It is in this state that I wanted to be known, or commended so I can be the change I wanted to be. 

Celebrate Beginnings with Endings

A number of bloggers has been posting the great beauty of the wildlife, of visited places, or the joys of existence.  Allow me to share, albeit saddening and disturbing for one, the wonders of nature in a different light or darkness, as I celebrate beginnings with endings. 

A walk in my garden, April, 2016...

I found it dead, maybe from the sheer heat of the weather, or a vicious attack by the stray cat that loiters my garden on a lazy afternoon.  Thought to myself that life is a cycle.  That the unknowing dangers of our everyday existence are bound to surprise us anytime or any day of our lives.

The great flowering tree that gave me joy throughout the years with its full bloom of reds and whites. Nestled at corner of the main door, the towering palm filtered the rays of light oblivious to its growth thus stunted it and eventually succumbed to lost.  Without knowledge, our minds become an empty vessel with no purpose.  We may be alive, but never engaging.

In its beauty, the red flower captured the essence of its existence but the lost of its centre piece gave this protruding branch a sense of lifelessness.  Never let people take the only sunshine you have in life. Once lost, it is difficult to regain it back. 

With the vast growth of this climber, the leaves underneath started to dry up and while new growth were seen, the undergrowth was losing its life. Our facade is something important but a great look does not mean a great spirit nor a soul that is enriched with spirituality.  

Although growing at a sporadic phase what with just cutting and planting, the dry weather and its easily drained soil does not make this plant as healthy as it was in partial shade.  Over exposure does not give us merit but leaves us monotonous in our action, speech and creativity. 

This pleasing beauty with its tiny petals of white declares simplicity in pattern but complexity in structure.  With the passing of days, those little flowers whither and fall, making the prominent stalk lackluster.  We cannot control aging as we will grow old and older, but we can make the best of what we have, in the now.

Rain-like drooping flowers of elegance that bespoke of perfumed scent deliver a long lasting stance in the garden.  But like all good things, there is an end. Losing hope does not go with the browning like farewells, as, in comes new ones, of hope and encouragement.

A series of leaves in one fine stalk does not mean they will all wither at the same time.  The slender leaves will submit to dryness, one by one, standing strong until the whole stalk falls from its mother trunk.  We all need to grow, with our education and upbringing, making ourselves mature in responsibility, determination and dream.  To take flight, one day, from our comfort zone. 

Stories in Photographs

There were a number of photographs I had taken through the years that I am proud of. I looked at them not as mere photographs but as storytellers.  Our photographs speak to us when we fill in the space with our own stories. Allow me to share a few of them.

Kho Kred, Pakkred, Nonthaburi

An abandoned house, tattered and old, gave me a feeling of haunting melo-drama that can be filled with sadness, tears and regrets.  The scattered branches added drama with few leaves left, making the entire photograph looked nostalgic and mysterious.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

A wide pillar became a window where one can see the ruins of Angkor Wat. The effect of the structures with its colours and texture radiated a historical essence reminisce of royalty and monkhood.  A view with a majestic story welcomed that one person who peeked.

Bohol, Philippines

The fading cream colour of the tiles was a fitting reminder of how the ground became discoloured because of the number of visitors and devotees that flocked the church.  For each knee that knelt down or feet that walked on them carried a severity of one's burden of overwhelming trouble or a delight of gratitude and heaping appreciation.  The contrast alone spoke volume.

Taipei, Taiwan

Expansive and linear, Shongsan Park reflected the purpose and vision of those who built this place seeing throngs of people visiting now and in the future. They were visionaries and worked along the needs of the country and its people.

Pakkred, Nonthaburi, Thailand

And lastly, the branches stretched in the air reminded me of hands reaching out to heaven.  This became my backdrop to a letter I wrote for both my mum and my dad, after their demise.  The tree became my only elected tool of connectivity to a long lost form of communication.  It was, and still is,  a photograph filled with stories of regrets, hope and longing.

Stories in Photographs

There were a number of photographs I had taken through the years that I am proud of. I looked at them not as mere photographs but as storytellers.  Our photographs speak to us when we fill in the space with our own stories. Allow me to share a few of them.

Kho Kred, Pakkred, Nonthaburi

An abandoned house, tattered and old, gave me a feeling of haunting melo-drama that can be filled with sadness, tears and regrets.  The scattered branches added drama with few leaves left, making the entire photograph looked nostalgic and mysterious.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

A wide pillar became a window where one can see the ruins of Angkor Wat. The effect of the structures with its colours and texture radiated a historical essence reminisce of royalty and monkhood.  A view with a majestic story welcomed that one person who peeked.

Bohol, Philippines

The fading cream colour of the tiles was a fitting reminder of how the ground became discoloured because of the number of visitors and devotees that flocked the church.  For each knee that knelt down or feet that walked on them carried a severity of one's burden of overwhelming trouble or a delight of gratitude and heaping appreciation.  The contrast alone spoke volume.

Taipei, Taiwan

Expansive and linear, Shongsan Park reflected the purpose and vision of those who built this place seeing throngs of people visiting now and in the future. They were visionaries and worked along the needs of the country and its people.

Pakkred, Nonthaburi, Thailand

And lastly, the branches stretched in the air reminded me of hands reaching out to heaven.  This became my backdrop to a letter I wrote for both my mum and my dad, after their demise.  The tree became my only elected tool of connectivity to a long lost form of communication.  It was, and still is,  a photograph filled with stories of regrets, hope and longing.

Recollect

I have a lot of students ranging from aged three to eleven years.  I usually teach at their homes after school.  Most of them are affluent, living in big houses furnished with expensive furnitures and appliances.  Some of them are from the middle-ranged but they still have big houses and plenty of material things.

When I was younger, I do wish for a real-sized piano. It reminds me of home. It was the number of hours I tried playing in my cousin's house even though they were against me using their piano.  The conflicts I had with my cousins and our immaturities at that time will always come back to my memory.

source: www.derekspratt.com

The high tech CD players and booming sounds from their speakers remind me of home. My dad had a stereo set where we played LP records and listened to the songs of famous singers and later equipping the system with a karaoke component for all night singing.

source: junk-king.com

Nowadays, television screens are as big as the wall but it was the fun and agony of watching on our black and white TV screen that gave me a fine recollection of home when I was young.  My sister and I would take turns using a long bamboo stick to make the TV button steady as it was already missing.  Once we move, the screen will shut itself off. We watched our favourite cartoons with tired arms.  It was also where we saw our mum on television and learning she played bit roles in some movies.


And when I see a dog, or a pet snake or a chameleon that climbs a planted stick inside the aquarium, it reminds me of my childhood garden and pets.  My pet turtles would always go missing when floods come.  My daily walk with the dogs would be a disaster especially when they wanted to chase people or cats.

All these become remnants of what I remember back home but they are happy memories.  However, it is the familial relationships among my students that I yearn for.  It is the caring, the happy faces, the fights, the jealousy, and the love that makes me long for "home".

Life's Vicissitudes

Mines View Park, Baguio, Philippines

Not everyone will understand your journey.  That's okay.  

You're here to live your life, not to make everyone understand.

As we grow wiser, we will find that the answers to our questions can be found not through internet searches or consultations with others.  The richness and depth of our experiences, be it good or not, will answer them.

I was a lost soul when I was much younger, not knowing what I really like. Would I pursue law or continue with Theology and as I fall in indecisiveness, I ended in a straight path, a profession I learned to care and love.  My experiences taught me to take my time, to feel where my heart is, and dig deeper. I needed to sink roots and I did. 

 I had loved a few people but rejected by many.  My experiences taught me to love myself fully rather than offer myself to despair.  I wasn't able to marry, a regret I had, but my single blessedness is giving me opportunities that I might not be able to do if I have my own family. 

I met so many people in my life both locals and international.  That nationality is not a factor in friendship, but sincerity in its pursuit.  That wealth is a measurement for others but not for those who stayed.  That distance is not important to those who continue to reach out.  Friends come but many will go and for those who will stay, keep them in your hearts.

That whatever choices I make in my life is mine.  If you do not agree to my decisions, you can give your opinions but it is still me who will walk the walk.  If  I choose to go a different path, it is because I wanted to show that I can be myself, and not a follower of others' dreams.  My short stay in this world is measured by the journey I will take so I wanted them to be filled with joy. 

There are three things I learn in life: 

My journey is my responsibility, not anyone else's. 

My sharings in life is my choice and legacy, that nobody can erase.

My decisions, though with regrets, are my life's scaffolding.

So believe and conquer. 

Goodbye 2015, Hello 2016

To describe the year is an understatement as there are hundreds and millions of inner turmoil that paved the way to a very unhealthy me. Financial loses, my father's demise, sibling separation, and friends wayward, how could I possibly start when all I hope for is an end.  So goodbye to 2015 what with all its miseries and conflicts, its debacles and challenges, its turmoil and altercations. 

A loud reverberating sound from a Buddhist gong signifies start and end
so I then conclude 2015 and embrace 2016.

And hello to 2016 what with its new challenges and unknown gifts.  May this year be a year of love and peace among men.  We welcome all that is good and all that will make our lives better and stronger. 

Happy New Year!  

The Happy Prince

Illustrated by Walter Crane

The Happy Prince book is teaching me kindness in many levels.  As the prince who is now a statue felt the need to help the poor, he commissioned a swallow to do the job for him.  First, he gave away the ruby on his sword then sacrificing his two sapphire eyes and lastly, scraping all the gold embellished on his body. All these were done to help a woman with a sick child, a writer who is hungry, and a girl who was being punished for not able to bring money back home. 

I am no Happy Prince and have nothing of what he had.  And this Christmas, all those messages of sharing and giving are nothing if they are but mere words with no actions.  The story reminds me to show it and share something of what I have, and to put them to work.

I have no time for many things but I have countless thoughtful insights about each person I meet and see.  They are kept in my mind and heart and will be written in different pieces come next year.

I have no money to buy presents to share but with my meager savings, I will put a smile to those who are dearest to me with small tokens of my appreciation for their support and help this year.  

I have no promises to others but I have the temerity and heart to extend my thanks with a smile and a hug once we meet again. For such companionship is enhanced by physical gestures of warmth, not only in words but also in actions. 

I have nothing much but believe me when I say that loyalty paves a stronghold in my relationship with people.  As long as I feel them as solidly genuine, I can become their truest friend. 

Merry Christmas everyone!