Kay Papel

Kung paanong galing ka sa buhay na pinatay

Gayun din naman, ika'y bibigyang buhay

ng mga salaysay na meron at walang saysay

Kahit alam kong iyo'y di papantay

sa kayang itagal sana ng puno mong nanay

Patawad kung wala akong maindatay 

na ginhawa sa'yong buhay na pinatay

kundi ang kaunting salaysay buhay-buhay

na malaon di'y mamamatay.

-h

Matins

You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
to be weeding. You ought to know
I'm never weeding, on my knees, pulling
clumps of clover from the flower beds: in fact
I'm looking for courage, for some evidence
my life will change, though
it takes forever, checking
each clump for the symbolic
leaf, and soon the summer is ending, already
the leaves turning, always the sick trees
going first, the dying turning
brilliant yellow, while a few dark birds perform
their curfew of music. You want to see my hands?
As empty now as at the first note.
Or was the point always
to continue without a sign? 


Louise Gluck

Ashes to Ashes

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and it was an obligation for all Catholics to attend the mass. Fr. Joey Cruz, S.J., had a very heartwarming homily which I copied from a list mail. To whoever it is who posted this on the blueboard, much thanks! 


I wanted to write more about my recent realizations on Ash Wednesday and more importantly on God's love but I'd save that for a later time. I just found the urge to pass on this wonderful homily that's why.


Now let me share it to everyone. 


Do you or someone you know have among your things denims that have small tears in them perhaps at the knee signifying cool casualness?

During the time of Jesus, those who wanted to manifest sorrow for their sin tore their clothes or covered their bodies with ash.


We will soon approach the sanctuary to have ash marked on our forehead, with the words said: "Remember you are dust and unto dust you will return."
The ash marking will be slight and merely suggestive of bodies being covered with ash a la taong grasa, but expect nonetheless our hearts awakened anew and stoked into flame in love of God.


Ash on our forehead makes us own up to our humanity and to our ability to disfigure ourselves.


Consider the lies we make, the little and big thievery we engage in, the disconnect that exists between what we do and the plight of the many.


Consider the habit of being preoccupied with self, the excesses we commit due to a sense of emptiness, the addictions that we are so adept at denying even to ourselves.


Consider the violence at home in word and deed and how we reserve our choicest arsenal of pain for members of the household.


Ash -- of little weight, blown away, insignificant -- is an image of human lives fragile, broken, drifting in the wind, of no obvious value, but always and without fail infused with God's life, fallen yes but redeemed, hurting perhaps but summoned always to draw strength from God's life-giving love.


The real revelation then is that ash though we are, we are brought to life and sustained by God's life-giving love; that insignificant though we may seem, we carry God's life within us. We are called to great things. We are God's daughters and sons.


Ash Wednesday is about our humanity; but more importantly still, it is about God's magnanimity. It speaks about God seeking us, about Him pursuing us even when we drift away, about Him not giving up on us.


The earthquake in Haiti might remind us of another that took place in Armenia some years ago.
In the muddled chaos, a distressed father ran through the winding streets leading to the school where his son had gone earlier that morning. The man could not stop thinking about the promise he gave his son many times. "No matter what happens, Armand," he would say, "I'll always be there for you."


But where the school had once stood, nothing remained except for a large heap of debris. With bare hands, he started digging, pulling up brick and wood where his son's classroom had been.
A bystander, in an effort at solidarity, said: "You can stop now, all the children must be dead."
But the man, with nothing but his son in mind, kept digging and digging, for hours and hours.
12 hours went by..... 18 hours..... 24 hours..... 36 hours..... and finally into the 38th hour he heard a muffled groan from under a piece of wallboard. Pulling it back, he called out, "Armand!" and from the darkness came a slight, shaking voice, "Papa?"
14 of the 33 students survived. Young Armand turned to his friends and said, "See, I told you my father will not forget us."


The ash on our forehead marks us as God?s daughters and sons whom he loves and will never abandon.


With the words then, "you are dust," we are told everything we are:
nothingness filled with eternity; death teaming with life; dust invigorated with God's life for always.(Rahner)


At this mass, even as we acknowledge who we are, let us declare whose we are.
Blessings on you all this Lent.

Saanman

Nakausap ko si Lola kagabi matapos ang mahabang panahon na rin ng di namin pagpapansinan dahil masyado akong lango sa trabaho at trabaho, di ko inakalang mag-fi-field trip pala kami sa probinsya at Kalookan kung saan nakatira ang mga ebidensya ng kanyang mga alaala. Hindi kasi kita nakita. Paalis ka na nung dumating ako. Di mo na nahintay akong magsalita nang maayos.

Di ko man lang naitanong sayo kung pwede mo ba kung isama sa fire truck mo tuwing reresponde kayo sa sunog ng mga kasama mo. O kaya kung pwede mo rin ba akong turuang kumanta katulad nung kantang tinuro mo sa tatay ko nung maliit pa siya,di na maalala ni Lola ang pamagat ng kantang yun. Sinubukan niyang kantahin pero di ko na maintindihan ang tono niya, parang tunog ng maluwag na string ng gitara. Tumugtog ka rin daw ng gitara at magaling ka pang sumayaw. Sabi ni Lola madalas ka raw maimbitahan noon sa mga sayawan. Kaya ka ba naging babaero? Playboy ka raw sabi ni Lola. Madalas mo raw siyang daanan sa Prime (patahian kung saan nananahi si Lola) pagkagaling mo sa munisipyo at sabay kayong uuwi. Siguro mahal mo si Lola. Siguro. Kasi nagkaron kayo ng 4 na anak. Tatlo sa apat na yun, sayo kumuha ng itsura at ugali. Nakopya ni Papa halos lahat sa'yo, pati ang boses mo.

Alam mo bang ang boses ni Papa ang gumigising sakin pag tulog ako, literal tsaka hindi. Kapag tulog ang diwa ko, naibabalik yun ng boses ni Papa. Kaya pala, boses mo rin pala yun.

Sabi ni Lola, dinalhan mo siya ng makinang may motor nung dinalaw mo siya sa Bicol, pagkatapos niyong maghiwalay o pagkatapos kayong "paghiwalayin ng tadhana", sabi nga ni Lola. Gusto ko sanang itanong kay Lola kung mahal ka pa rin ba niya pagkatapos ng lahat?

Hinihimas-himas ni Lola ang kaliwang braso ko habang nag-uusap kami. Tinitingnan niyang parang telang tatahiin ang braso ko.

"Ganitong-ganito ang braso ni Guiller, mabalahibo," sabi ni Lola.

Pag tumitingin ako sa braso ko ngayon, naiisip kong di mo pala ko iniwan.

Of Fears

I have been bogged down with anxiety thoughts lately. I am overwhelmed with an array of must-dos that need grave planning. Even my dreams tell me so. Recently, my dreams revolve around sequences of falling and climbing, and monsters, and friends, of running-aways,and of facing-ups. I'm afraid that I am being too careful that I can't seem to get things started. What if I just knock these fears right off their faces?

Boom!

I need some explosives here.

Not the kind that burns the skin. I want the one that burns the heart, and melts it, turning it into a boiling liquid that flows all around me. I want to be able to sprinkle the world with the warmth of happiness and sorrow, and hatred, and angst, and bliss, and, yes, love. How will I do it? I don't know. I just need some trigger.

Set the fire. That's what I need to do. I need to set my tasks aflame. Now.

Now back to work.

November

I was scared to be alone,
Now I'm scared that's how I'd like to be.

On UP and why we should free the knots

Last night, I finally was able to sit in front of the idiot box for a whole feature-movie length period. Impatient as I am with moving pictures, last night was a success for me for I was able to at last finish a movie. Yes, I didn't last for longer than the first 10 minutes of James Cameron's record-breaking Avatar. (To my sister's disbelief, the movie got me bored at the next sequence after Jake's introduction of Pandora. Fortunately for her, she got to finish it.) But yesterday was not one of those days.

And for that, UP (2009) was a success for me and here are the reasons why:

First: It was light and heavy at the same time. The 3D images of kids at the first sequence caught the attention of the child within me. I might just be missing those days. Nevertheless, I liked the aggressiveness of little Ellie and the passivity of little Mr. Fredricksen. As the story unfolds, it's good I followed through the real adventure of these two people. It was a childhood dream turned into reality by Mr. Fredricksen and oh, that cute little, egg-shaped boy who loved chocolates.

Second: It was a showcase of the clash between the past and the present amidst the prevailing power of the now. Mr. Fredricksen couldn't let go of Elli's memories. This stubbornness was shown in his going against the construction of a new road that needed to pass through his lot. He cheated the men from the retirement village who were supposed to bring him to the old people's place. And he went up, up and away not knowing that on his house's porch was little egg boy aiming to catch the snipe  and help Mr. Fredricksen cross from somewhere to somewhere so he could get that Helping the Elderly badge.

Third: It was about crossing from somewhere to somewhere. Ultimately, Mr. Fredricksen took on the adventures of the now by letting go. He let go of Ellie. He let go of the part of him that always yearned for times gone.

The movie poked me to do just the same so I could fly up, up and away.

Thanks to whoever it is who conceived of a Jesuit University President's day which is why I had the luxury of time to sit and reflect in front of the television after what seemed to me a long while.