Oblige me. I shall write about my trip hopping back to Asia. I promise that it won't be that dramatic, filling your thoughts about the difficulties of goodbyes. It is just something that I need to write about...
Sunday, September 28---
The day was spent doing my last shopping for the 'paki-padala' list of things that i need to carry to amazing Thailand. It was a discovery shop since I never get to enter into the cathedrals of consumerism in Melbourne. Anyway, I don't have the right to do so. (not much economic strength to do so) But in that day, I just entered into a lot of shops enquiring about brands that people asked me to buy. Some were inexistent in the Australian market while others were just to easy to find.
I had an instant farewell party with friends. (pity--my memory card got deleted...) It was just a simple one full of laughters and exchanges of memories.
When all the goodbyes were made, I remained awake to face the negotiation of my packing. Objective: no luggage overweight. When I achieved my goal, I just had 4 hours max sleeping time.
Monday - September 29
After completing all the packing and putting them all outside ready for pick up, Candy, another Filipina friend accompanied me to the bank. On the road to the bank, she reminded me about harsh realities in life. (Sigh---good to have wel-meaning friends)
When it was my time to leave for the airport, the customary goodbye hugs took place. Admittedly, I do have fond memories of 19 Lovell Drive...
Reaching the airport, I exercised utmost patience waiting for my gate to open. However, when 11 am struck and the gate remained closed, I just have to go to the service counter of Jetstar at Terminal 2. Out there, I was coolly informed that my flight would only be tomorrow. Another advisory was sent out weeks ago but was just left in a measly answering machine (hello! call centres--- moi doesn't return calls made by you!). I just waited for the printed itinerary and then gave them a piece of acerbity...
People in the house were happy for my return. I didn't have the time to make out of their jubilation. I slept through it all. I was so tired after the ordeal.
Tuesday - September 30
I don't have to do so much. My things were already packed. However, it was more difficult to say goodbye to my housemates as both Nilani and Anuja were there...
I was an early bird in the queue for the check in so the lady at the counter just wrote off my 3 kilo excess! It was a very good reason to smile and heave a sigh of relief.
I reached Bangkok 10 minutes after ETA. Jen and Fely welcomed me very warmly. The heat of Bangkok enveloped me and the ever-enterprising taxi driver confirmed the fact that ---Am back to Asia. Sawasdee!
Saturday, 4 October 2008
Sunday, 21 September 2008
Thursday, 7 August 2008
I can write again
(My last photo shoot with my nokia phone... i forgot all about this pic but it evoked memories of spontaneity... at a time when yes, my pen was generous and words flowed out of the keyboard)
I was blocked and I went on self-denial. The ink didn't cooperate. I am no writer but my hand refused to be honest in airing out my feelings. I retrogressed. ---FOR A FEW MONTHS, WEEKS, DAYS.
Now I can write again. The dark days are over but it is no assurance that my own personal dragons are slain. It is still around but noticed and acknowledged...
Mea culpa
(ode to the world of unbelief)
For not loving you enough
For projecting my unreasonable standards
Perhaps for not listening
For not taking the pains of making me understood
For burrowing into the excuses called ‘to do’
For the long absence and the unjust presence
I was with my world burrowed deep inside Alice’s tunnel
Sucked into the vortex of angst and darkness
Am still drowning into the stinky smell of sulphur
My lungs shrivel and innards shrink
When the cancer of pain strikes
and the universe collides to stop it
my vision gets foiled
my senses numb
So I whispered to the dam keeper
To let it be. Nature will find a way.
I’ll surrender.
For not loving you enough
For projecting my unreasonable standards
Perhaps for not listening
For not taking the pains of making me understood
For burrowing into the excuses called ‘to do’
For the long absence and the unjust presence
I was with my world burrowed deep inside Alice’s tunnel
Sucked into the vortex of angst and darkness
Am still drowning into the stinky smell of sulphur
My lungs shrivel and innards shrink
When the cancer of pain strikes
and the universe collides to stop it
my vision gets foiled
my senses numb
So I whispered to the dam keeper
To let it be. Nature will find a way.
I’ll surrender.
Monday, 7 July 2008
The Launch
The launch marked the start of the Green World Youth Day program. I've been quite daring in my get up that night. No amount of cold wind could deter my 'costume'! I was also prod to deliver my piece to the audience and they also listened. Perhaps, they acknowledge the melodramatic preparation that we went through and so, they obliged!!!
(Thanks to the perfectionist speech coaches or models that I had back home :-) )
(Thanks to the perfectionist speech coaches or models that I had back home :-) )
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Resting Easy
I burrowed deep into this thing called work. My main objective is to get it 'done and over with'... One friend kept hounding me about the importance of health. My mind told me about the importance of delivering good service to them.
This stage is over...
The countdown to the next week is on... Tomorrow, our first participant is arriving and I am almost done with the things that we need to do.
It is now time to go back to the basics--meet people and see to it that they are home...
This stage is over...
The countdown to the next week is on... Tomorrow, our first participant is arriving and I am almost done with the things that we need to do.
It is now time to go back to the basics--meet people and see to it that they are home...
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
The man on the roof
By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:29:00 05/26/2008
MANILA, Philippines - Crispin Beltran told me a story I remember to this day. He and several Filipino labor leaders had been invited to a labor conference in Vienna (I think), and the conference had been important enough for them to accept. Off they went on the cheapest flight they could get, bringing with them nothing but their everyday clothes with a couple of long-sleeved shirts and decent pants thrown in for the socials. They figured that since this was a labor conference, the accepted, or expected, attire was workingman’s clothes.
When they got to the conference, they were surprised to see that the venue was a magnificent structure, probably a palace in older times. They were even more surprised—and chagrined—to see that the people who congregated at the entrance to register for the conference all wore suits, many of them three-piece ones. The women wore formal dress and exuded subtle scents.
Deciding that prudence was the better part of valor, they retreated from the scene. But determined as they were to attend the conference—sayang the money their organizations had scrounged up to get them there—they got in touch with some Filipino friends who brought them to Vienna’s version of ukay-ukay. They found what they were looking for in a place not unlike a Salvation Army shop and bought suits and leather shoes for a song. After the suits had been dusted off and pressed, they looked—to them at least—impressive.
Armed thus, they went back to the conference and—again to them at least—burst into the hall like a conquering army. Beltran was so proud of his newly acquired (and polished) shoes, he told me, that he found himself dangling them out whenever he crossed his legs.
That is the image of Ka Bel that I retain to this day. A lot has been said about him falling off the roof of his house while he was fixing it, much of it having to do with the irony of a man who had lived with death and prison as constant companions only to be felled by something completely mundane. He had survived Marcos, he had survived Gloria, alas, he would not survive—his roof. What can one say? Sometimes heaven plays cruel tricks on earth. Warriors struck down not by the sword of the enemy but by the snares of ordinary life. Well, this is one warrior who will gatecrash Valhalla anyway. He has pretty much gatecrashed everything society had decreed was off-limits for him.
But one friend put it down pat. Do you know, he asked me, another congressman who climbs up his roof to fix it? That is the marvel of it, Beltran, who had earned his berth in the Batasan, who was there every day in barong Tagalog, which may or may not have been bought in an ukay-ukay, was not only not spoiled by his new station in life, he continued to live a life only a couple of notches better than the constituents he served. Before he got to Congress, Beltran was living in a P50,000-house in a depressed area in Commonwealth. Afterward, he was living in a one-bedroom bungalow that he bought with a P400,000 loan from GSIS.
Could he have afforded a carpenter or an istambay to climb up his roof and fix it? Probably. But that option would have appeared to him as natural or sensible as attending a conference on labor in the company of other labor leaders in a coat-and-tie. Why waste good money to hire someone to do something that you can very well do yourself? That he was past his prime and was defying the odds, quite apart from gravity, by doing so never entered his reckoning. That’s just the way he was. That was the mettle of the man.
We do not lack for poor people who made good, or made bad, depending on how you look at it, and turned into monsters in the course of it. Ka Bel did not. He did not become corrupt. He remained true to his beliefs, he remained true to labor, he remained true to himself. Congress has not honored him by calling him a congressman, notwithstanding that he got there by the party-list route, he has honored Congress by agreeing to be called a congressmen notwithstanding the laughable meanings that now attach to the word. He has shown that however a contradiction in terms it sounds, it is possible to be an honest congressman.
While paying him obligatory praise, many have also found it a pity that in life he clung to beliefs that were outmoded and ways that were unyielding, which marginalized him in politics and society. What can I say? If it has become outmoded to believe that the poor have as much claim to this earth as the rich, if not more so, that public service is not an entitlement to abuse but a challenge for one to acquit oneself honorably, that honesty and decency and simplicity are marks of high-mindedness and not naiveté, then we can all do with clinging to outmoded beliefs. And if it has become modern to compromise principle for pelf, to barter integrity for a life of ease, to sell one’s soul to gain the world, or an infinitesimal fraction thereof, then we can all do with being resolutely old-fashioned.
Easy to talk, hard to do. Words are cheap, and in this day and age where officials are free to say one thing and do another, they become even cheaper by the day. Ka Bel did not just talk about principle, he practiced it. Ka Bel did not just talk about the people, he walked with them. Ka Bel did not just talk about life, he lived it.
I don’t know that it’s farfetched to squeeze some metaphorical or symbolic meaning from Ka Bel trying to fix the roof of his house. That house might very well be the one where the people he loved and tried to serve—the poor, the tired, the hungry—were huddled in one corner, a tangle of arms and legs, trying to fend off wind and rain. Of course he tripped, and plunged to his death. But who knows?
Maybe his example might just inspire others to try their luck.
------------------------------
i don't know how many people can be like him... I don't know him personally. but the death of this person fascinated me...
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:29:00 05/26/2008
MANILA, Philippines - Crispin Beltran told me a story I remember to this day. He and several Filipino labor leaders had been invited to a labor conference in Vienna (I think), and the conference had been important enough for them to accept. Off they went on the cheapest flight they could get, bringing with them nothing but their everyday clothes with a couple of long-sleeved shirts and decent pants thrown in for the socials. They figured that since this was a labor conference, the accepted, or expected, attire was workingman’s clothes.
When they got to the conference, they were surprised to see that the venue was a magnificent structure, probably a palace in older times. They were even more surprised—and chagrined—to see that the people who congregated at the entrance to register for the conference all wore suits, many of them three-piece ones. The women wore formal dress and exuded subtle scents.
Deciding that prudence was the better part of valor, they retreated from the scene. But determined as they were to attend the conference—sayang the money their organizations had scrounged up to get them there—they got in touch with some Filipino friends who brought them to Vienna’s version of ukay-ukay. They found what they were looking for in a place not unlike a Salvation Army shop and bought suits and leather shoes for a song. After the suits had been dusted off and pressed, they looked—to them at least—impressive.
Armed thus, they went back to the conference and—again to them at least—burst into the hall like a conquering army. Beltran was so proud of his newly acquired (and polished) shoes, he told me, that he found himself dangling them out whenever he crossed his legs.
That is the image of Ka Bel that I retain to this day. A lot has been said about him falling off the roof of his house while he was fixing it, much of it having to do with the irony of a man who had lived with death and prison as constant companions only to be felled by something completely mundane. He had survived Marcos, he had survived Gloria, alas, he would not survive—his roof. What can one say? Sometimes heaven plays cruel tricks on earth. Warriors struck down not by the sword of the enemy but by the snares of ordinary life. Well, this is one warrior who will gatecrash Valhalla anyway. He has pretty much gatecrashed everything society had decreed was off-limits for him.
But one friend put it down pat. Do you know, he asked me, another congressman who climbs up his roof to fix it? That is the marvel of it, Beltran, who had earned his berth in the Batasan, who was there every day in barong Tagalog, which may or may not have been bought in an ukay-ukay, was not only not spoiled by his new station in life, he continued to live a life only a couple of notches better than the constituents he served. Before he got to Congress, Beltran was living in a P50,000-house in a depressed area in Commonwealth. Afterward, he was living in a one-bedroom bungalow that he bought with a P400,000 loan from GSIS.
Could he have afforded a carpenter or an istambay to climb up his roof and fix it? Probably. But that option would have appeared to him as natural or sensible as attending a conference on labor in the company of other labor leaders in a coat-and-tie. Why waste good money to hire someone to do something that you can very well do yourself? That he was past his prime and was defying the odds, quite apart from gravity, by doing so never entered his reckoning. That’s just the way he was. That was the mettle of the man.
We do not lack for poor people who made good, or made bad, depending on how you look at it, and turned into monsters in the course of it. Ka Bel did not. He did not become corrupt. He remained true to his beliefs, he remained true to labor, he remained true to himself. Congress has not honored him by calling him a congressman, notwithstanding that he got there by the party-list route, he has honored Congress by agreeing to be called a congressmen notwithstanding the laughable meanings that now attach to the word. He has shown that however a contradiction in terms it sounds, it is possible to be an honest congressman.
While paying him obligatory praise, many have also found it a pity that in life he clung to beliefs that were outmoded and ways that were unyielding, which marginalized him in politics and society. What can I say? If it has become outmoded to believe that the poor have as much claim to this earth as the rich, if not more so, that public service is not an entitlement to abuse but a challenge for one to acquit oneself honorably, that honesty and decency and simplicity are marks of high-mindedness and not naiveté, then we can all do with clinging to outmoded beliefs. And if it has become modern to compromise principle for pelf, to barter integrity for a life of ease, to sell one’s soul to gain the world, or an infinitesimal fraction thereof, then we can all do with being resolutely old-fashioned.
Easy to talk, hard to do. Words are cheap, and in this day and age where officials are free to say one thing and do another, they become even cheaper by the day. Ka Bel did not just talk about principle, he practiced it. Ka Bel did not just talk about the people, he walked with them. Ka Bel did not just talk about life, he lived it.
I don’t know that it’s farfetched to squeeze some metaphorical or symbolic meaning from Ka Bel trying to fix the roof of his house. That house might very well be the one where the people he loved and tried to serve—the poor, the tired, the hungry—were huddled in one corner, a tangle of arms and legs, trying to fend off wind and rain. Of course he tripped, and plunged to his death. But who knows?
Maybe his example might just inspire others to try their luck.
------------------------------
i don't know how many people can be like him... I don't know him personally. but the death of this person fascinated me...
Monday, 12 May 2008
Choosing what's worth it
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I was into so much cyclone last week. There were two birthday blasts, barbeques, arguments at work, boredom and fatigue. I plunged into the eye of the storm hoping that in some way I can find balance and compensation in all the things that I do. But well, things don't just happen that way.
So, I went into a self-imposed 'rest' in my own house. How I did that? I let Vonnegut, Sting and Gaiman entertain me once in a while. I slept most of the way -- for in that state of deep sleep, I can't even recall the dreams that I had.
But the hours are waning and I have to get back to work tomorrow. I have to plow the field again. I just have to face the long list of things to be done and start cracking on a few things.
A good friend told me to take my own time and my own pace because-- it is not worth it.
Well, when all else fails, at least I will still have me and the memories. Yeah, I'll take care of myself. I'll forget the rest. Perhaps, I won't dwell so much on thoughts...
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Twists and turns of the day
I woke up today with a strong resolve to do many things. My team called it ‘working’ day. But, with a ‘migraine’ lurking at the corner of my head, I tried to distract it by moving about in the office. I took the church keys to post a concert notice by the church door. (Think less and move much – clear the head exercise)
Much to my surprise, the church was open and I saw a lady in black sitting at a corner busy with a lot of things. I didn’t really take much notice about her activity until I noticed a fixture below the altar. It was a coffin – such a lonely death, I muttered…
I asked a friend on how a death could be so lonely when in the last hours of your wake, few hours before going to the final place called cemetery, only 1 person was just around. I dismissed it as something Aussie.
I was led to some trivial work later that I forgot about the ‘solitary coffin’… I waged war with my headache and there were just too many to preoccupy my head. The ‘invalids’ decided to do groceries for the office. I just happily tagged along.
My headache went off and it was another happy day.
Then, the priest came back and said “remember about your question on whether or not the funeral went successfully? Let’s just put it this way – the dead body was an ex-convict, indicted for murdering his wife. He died in November last year and was only identified a week ago. He got burried today.”
Much to my surprise, the church was open and I saw a lady in black sitting at a corner busy with a lot of things. I didn’t really take much notice about her activity until I noticed a fixture below the altar. It was a coffin – such a lonely death, I muttered…
I asked a friend on how a death could be so lonely when in the last hours of your wake, few hours before going to the final place called cemetery, only 1 person was just around. I dismissed it as something Aussie.
I was led to some trivial work later that I forgot about the ‘solitary coffin’… I waged war with my headache and there were just too many to preoccupy my head. The ‘invalids’ decided to do groceries for the office. I just happily tagged along.
My headache went off and it was another happy day.
Then, the priest came back and said “remember about your question on whether or not the funeral went successfully? Let’s just put it this way – the dead body was an ex-convict, indicted for murdering his wife. He died in November last year and was only identified a week ago. He got burried today.”
Thursday, 17 April 2008
A Recipe for Feeding the World
Ingredients:
• People’s need for good food
• Land for people, not profit
• Credit for small landholders
• Fair commodity prices
• Fair wages
• Appropriate technology
• Care for the environment
Method:
• Stir well till all problems are dissolved.
• Keep ingredients free from war, corruption and agribusiness or the mixture will curdle.
• Feed at least five billion. (That should now be six billion.)
Back home a growing unrest due to the shortage of rice is brewing. Although some calls it a 'staged' crisis, the alarming food shortage hits a very important nerve in a people whose staple food is rice.
This brings me back to the basic challenge of justice. In lawschool, social justice was literally funneled down to our system with the hope of having some when we get hardened by legalese... How much of those truly remained in the systems of governance?
How much? (May we have the bill please...)
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
preoccupations
funny. a lot worries about tomorrow. i am just too busy to think about it. there are lots to see and hear at the now that the future is too far and sometimes irrelevant. i only worry much if my now is connected with the morrow... but this is not really correct. i worry about missing the u2 3d movie this week just like i missed my date with jdepp because i stupidly burrowed myself in some hole too difficult to get out of. i miss out a good laugh and company once in a while due to obstinacy. i blow my top at a trivial now and i forget about the future implications of the present action...
i don't claim which is really good and much kewler. i just have to live with what i want to cope and do.
the nasty observant me takes over once in a while and my presence is absorbed in the 'arounding' mind you, when this mode is on, well... am neither here or there.
i don't claim which is really good and much kewler. i just have to live with what i want to cope and do.
the nasty observant me takes over once in a while and my presence is absorbed in the 'arounding' mind you, when this mode is on, well... am neither here or there.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
today
i stood most of the time
waiting
wondering
hoping
i squatted with neil as company
hearing the sermon droning on and on
humming the hymns along the way
chatted with curious kids
believe me philosophical questions were stuck
in the middle and thrown by the kids
asking about how and why money should be
how and why there should be..
i smiled
linked hands with others
connected
avoided stares
(yes, am shy too)
sat with colleagues
for a long time
asked for a favor
tried to explain
a bit, for long...
then i blogged
clicked to links
my insomnia starts
my life is neverwhere...
waiting
wondering
hoping
i squatted with neil as company
hearing the sermon droning on and on
humming the hymns along the way
chatted with curious kids
believe me philosophical questions were stuck
in the middle and thrown by the kids
asking about how and why money should be
how and why there should be..
i smiled
linked hands with others
connected
avoided stares
(yes, am shy too)
sat with colleagues
for a long time
asked for a favor
tried to explain
a bit, for long...
then i blogged
clicked to links
my insomnia starts
my life is neverwhere...
Saturday, 5 April 2008
Melbourne Social Forum
I was at the Melbourne Social Forum today. The theme attracted me 'eating, moving, living: pathways to sustainability'. As usual, very few people came to 'change the world' perhaps, others were too busy to be bothered. Or what?
Just like any other forum, we often feel a need to connect and just simply be. The Conch provided entertainment which truly made my day. I miss the gigs and the jamming session at 6300 but well, we can just dance at any parties. It was an 'intergenerational' gathering of peoples and that alone would speak for itself.
It was also likened to a coming out party of the Young People for Development (YPD) to the engaged groups and individuals of Melbourne. The Green World Youth Day program was shared to those who were there. YPD mostly come for meetings among groups and people but it was the first time for the volunteers to set up a stall.
Attending today's MSF feels like just home. However, I was jolted out of my reverie when I attended the talks. The topics may be very similar but the concerns come from a different vantage point. Food issue for example is not much from the stark reality of food shortage and hunger. I miss the common farmer who can belt out into a litany of complaints and passionately recount stories of being detached from their seeds... But then, hey, this is Melbourne!
What is very important is that people still care and do the best of whatever way we can. I do borrow the line of the Conch: where do the rebels go?
In this type of gatherings, we leave inspired and plan to do more... No, I don't plan to change the world. A quarter perhaps? :-)
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
On flagellants
flag·el·late (flj-lt)
tr.v. flag·el·lat·ed, flag·el·lat·ing, flag·el·lates
1. To whip or flog; scourge.
2. To punish or impel as if by whipping.
It is holy week and my mind transports itself to the traditional way the Philippines wallows into the crucified Christ religiousity. The Central part of the Philippines is well known to showcase flagellants who make a big deal out of it. People from all walks of life do self-mortification by either whipping themselves and/or have themselves be hanged on the cross. Others carry a large cross while walking and whipping themselves. It is an annual spectacle that some observe during the lent. They try to seek mortification over the sins that they've made in the previous year. I don't dig it so, I don't bring myself to witness it personally. Although in a couple of times when I go to Baguio years before to enjoy the coolness of the holy week, I can see some of the flagellants through the bus window. The sight of blood and the open wound + sweat + heat +absurdity (oooops) or 'faith' isn't just me.
I don't feel the 'pious' holy week ambiance out here in Melbourne. The Filipinos that I met also complained of the same nostalgia. "No place like home" would be a seller in pep talks...
However, is this the only way of mortification? What about going on a boring diet for the sake of figure? Can this be flagellation too? (Ehemmm, is it a synonym to vanity?) What about doing the routine, dragging oneself to work, to endless meetings? How about sacrificing for the common good, the family or unity? Is it not another whipping? Another punishment?
tr.v. flag·el·lat·ed, flag·el·lat·ing, flag·el·lates
1. To whip or flog; scourge.
2. To punish or impel as if by whipping.
It is holy week and my mind transports itself to the traditional way the Philippines wallows into the crucified Christ religiousity. The Central part of the Philippines is well known to showcase flagellants who make a big deal out of it. People from all walks of life do self-mortification by either whipping themselves and/or have themselves be hanged on the cross. Others carry a large cross while walking and whipping themselves. It is an annual spectacle that some observe during the lent. They try to seek mortification over the sins that they've made in the previous year. I don't dig it so, I don't bring myself to witness it personally. Although in a couple of times when I go to Baguio years before to enjoy the coolness of the holy week, I can see some of the flagellants through the bus window. The sight of blood and the open wound + sweat + heat +absurdity (oooops) or 'faith' isn't just me.
I don't feel the 'pious' holy week ambiance out here in Melbourne. The Filipinos that I met also complained of the same nostalgia. "No place like home" would be a seller in pep talks...
However, is this the only way of mortification? What about going on a boring diet for the sake of figure? Can this be flagellation too? (Ehemmm, is it a synonym to vanity?) What about doing the routine, dragging oneself to work, to endless meetings? How about sacrificing for the common good, the family or unity? Is it not another whipping? Another punishment?
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
Friday, 7 March 2008
Salamat po!
I may not always be in touch with you… or, I may always be at your back, trying to
get things done… or, I may be too straight, harsh and direct at pointless matters around us… or, I may be too oblivious at what is going on because a deadline is in the offing.
But I still have to say this over and over and over again: thank you for the journey. I will soon be five months down under!
It is a journey of faith coming over to Melbourne… I am sure it must also be for you when you invited and welcomed me over too!
Thank you for:
Welcoming me
Listening and making me feel like home
Understanding and simply accompanying
The laughs and the cries
Believing and trusting
Challenging
Bearing with my erratic working habit
The space and venues for silence
Feeding and showing me around…
Updating and encouraging me…
(I refuse to mention names for fear of missing out important ones.)
Let me borrow the words of St. Paul, “I thank my God, each time I think of you… and when I pray for you, I pray with joy…”
Down the road,
Kins
But I still have to say this over and over and over again: thank you for the journey. I will soon be five months down under!
It is a journey of faith coming over to Melbourne… I am sure it must also be for you when you invited and welcomed me over too!
Thank you for:
Welcoming me
Listening and making me feel like home
Understanding and simply accompanying
The laughs and the cries
Believing and trusting
Challenging
Bearing with my erratic working habit
The space and venues for silence
Feeding and showing me around…
Updating and encouraging me…
(I refuse to mention names for fear of missing out important ones.)
Let me borrow the words of St. Paul, “I thank my God, each time I think of you… and when I pray for you, I pray with joy…”
Down the road,
Kins
Thursday, 6 March 2008
post sorry days...
I meant to write about sorry day and share my reflections on it. Time stole the opportunity. However, I took some photos in the city showing the activity of the people few days after...
- what is the face of 'compensation' over the years and chances that were stolen?
- how is the engagement of Australia over all of these?
Just asking....
Archbishop heads rally against coal-fired power plant
NO WITH A SMILE. Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) president Archbishop Angel Lagdameo of Jaro smiles as he holds up a placard opposing the proposed building of a coal-fired power plant in Iloilo City. Lagdameo led thousands of Ilonggos at an interfaith rally Wednesday calling on local and national government officials to reject coal as a power source because of threats to the environment. GREENPEACE/LUIS LIWANAG (www.inquirer.net)
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
freezing the beauty
oblivious to the heat and the thousand and one meditation instructions given, I followed my own course. i clicked photos...
it may not be too spectacular but it is mine and i managed to freeze the beauty and imperfection of the sunflower...
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Tuesday, 26 February 2008
the wounded man stopped breathing and the blood drained out of his system
the soul traveled from afar . he was pronounced dead.
how many crucifixions must we take to have our own resurrection?
we take delight in all things new, meeting people at the crossroads, journeying.
it is tiring though. how is it possible to always choose the unpaved and unpopular?
it may only be me... trying to be like you. nah--pretending.
Friday, 15 February 2008
Scrap!
The front lawn of my house is full of scrap. We waited for almost one month for the HMR (heavy metal recycler) to pick it up but it seems that it will stay for a while out there. We even called one day to complain but a grumpy wife simply dismissed us saying that his hubby is in the hospital. Translation: wait till he is able to get it.
The waiting went on and our grumblings grew. We just can't believe that our tiny yard became a 'junk yard'. It is a terrible site for the pedestrians.
I will go back to the surly reply of a wife in pain. Little did we know (to our abberation of tabloid-community papers), the incident regarding the hubby was no domestic hospitalisation. It was work-related. Apparently the guy and his son was mauled and 'chopped' by rival HMR groups in the morning while the two were rounding up for some scrap metals.
Big sigh. In a very clean, posh and rich Australia, they too fight for scraps. For them it was a 'job hazard'. I just don't know how they would call the fighting scavengers of payatas and many other 'smokey mountain' areas in my country.
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
Text of PM Rudd's 'sorry' address
February 12, 2008 - 6:18PM
Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.
We reflect on their past mistreatment.
We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were stolen generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.
The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.
We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.
We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.
For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.
To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.
And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.
We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.
For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.
We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.
A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.
A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.
A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.
A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.
A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.
http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/pms-sorry-address/2008/02/12/1202760291188.html
Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.
We reflect on their past mistreatment.
We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were stolen generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.
The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.
We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.
We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.
For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.
To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.
And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.
We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.
For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.
We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.
A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.
A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.
A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.
A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.
A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia.
http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/pms-sorry-address/2008/02/12/1202760291188.html
Sunday, 10 February 2008
the pace
your slowness can be as nasty as your response. look around you. we are called to run towards what we can offer and can actively do... the snail irritates me. yes. but it is a consolation too. no matter what, there is a movement.... so slow but it moves..
The launching
we've shared our dreams and hopes dearest
we bottled it up together
it is time to launch our ship and sail away
don't be bothered by the undercurrents and the tide
let it take over
allow the waves to disturb us...
it will sail slowly
it sucks into the dependence of the wind
pray that the water will sustain its hospitality
come now my love...
we face the odds
let's submerge in the water...
Monday, 28 January 2008
The twelve apostles
Thursday, 24 January 2008
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Monday, 21 January 2008
Geelong
GEELONGOut of impulse, we drove for almost an hour hoping to take a swim in Geelong. The heat was sweltering that day. We reached the place around 6:30 in the evening and, the cool change came. I wasn't able to take a dip as it started to get cold. This photo is taken (like an ordinary tourist) at 7:30 pm... Thanks to summer time.
I do miss the unspoiled 'boca del cielo' of ours in Bohol...
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Random images down under
Welcome flower...The most welcoming creature I met one day while I was about to leave for my volunteer work. It seems it bloomed to cheer me up one day...
rose petals from the garden...
rose petals from the garden... Stop, smell the flowers... is an immortal advice. Out here, I do it often to scoop at the meaning of beauty...
Ceres bike workshop...
Ceres bike workshop... I fell in love with this place due to its innovation. The people out here started to develop this dump from scratch. Now, it is a center for sustainability.
Friday, 11 January 2008
Water talk
The Asian Development Bank released a finding that the water quality in the Philippines is worsening. This is nothing new. One will just have to take a look around and things are not getting any better.
What about the question on accessibility of water? Have we gotten ahead out of this?
In grade school, I can still remember how much we suffered of water scarcity. People in the house has to stay up so late just to find water. It was common to knock at a neighbor's door to 'borrow' a container of water for drinking.
I know, the younger ones would find it hard to believe. But it is true... It was only very lately that we experienced a good supply of running water. Mind you, it is not steady!
Looking at the future, water might be a cause for trouble...
What about the question on accessibility of water? Have we gotten ahead out of this?
In grade school, I can still remember how much we suffered of water scarcity. People in the house has to stay up so late just to find water. It was common to knock at a neighbor's door to 'borrow' a container of water for drinking.
I know, the younger ones would find it hard to believe. But it is true... It was only very lately that we experienced a good supply of running water. Mind you, it is not steady!
Looking at the future, water might be a cause for trouble...
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Browsing through the local paper
I went through my local community newspaper on the web and was surprised to find that the Provincial Government already approved the annual budget for fiscal year 2008. It is indeed surprising as I was so used to having the City Annual Budget approved first. I even recalled how easier it was for the City Council to reach a consensus than the provincial body.
For two years, I witnessed the tedious process of approving an annual budget at the local level. Due to the nature of the post that I held, I consciously put the figures and the information aside due to ethical reasons.
However, reading this news reminded me as to how far I have been removed from the ‘internals’ of my city. That happily, people can move on and deal with their lives separately for there are just too much of choices that we are into.
In the same paper, they also talked about C-205 and its need for iron-clad implementation. Yes, I recognized that measure! I am glad that they revisited such an ordinance. I also hope that it will be materialised… along with many other wishes that I have for the new year.
For two years, I witnessed the tedious process of approving an annual budget at the local level. Due to the nature of the post that I held, I consciously put the figures and the information aside due to ethical reasons.
However, reading this news reminded me as to how far I have been removed from the ‘internals’ of my city. That happily, people can move on and deal with their lives separately for there are just too much of choices that we are into.
In the same paper, they also talked about C-205 and its need for iron-clad implementation. Yes, I recognized that measure! I am glad that they revisited such an ordinance. I also hope that it will be materialised… along with many other wishes that I have for the new year.
Monday, 7 January 2008
Happy New Year!
A friend emailed me earlier today saying:
Their New Year will only be tomorrow, January 8th but their situation prevents them from really celebrating. Most of the Karens are refugees. They live in a 'borrowed' land...
Just like to most of us, living in a borrowed land, phase, dream and situation, we try to hope that tomorrow and the new year will bring something that finally, we claim our own.
"Best Wishes for 2747 Karen New Year!
Best Wishes all of you. Unfortunately, we Karen Could not celebrate Karen New Year in Thailand and Burma in Thailand King's sister pass away and no body can happy the whole
month, no celebration, no event. In Burma Malitary do not allowed. we can have very small and few people can participate. Anyway, hope for the best for the Karen future!"
Their New Year will only be tomorrow, January 8th but their situation prevents them from really celebrating. Most of the Karens are refugees. They live in a 'borrowed' land...
Just like to most of us, living in a borrowed land, phase, dream and situation, we try to hope that tomorrow and the new year will bring something that finally, we claim our own.
On VAW
A woman slept at the railway station last night because the hubby turned her out of the house. She walked for an hour to catch the train. By the time she reached the station closer to the church, she just can't find the strength to walk again. So, she just slept at the station hoping that her 'angels' will keep her safe from harm.
I saw her this morning. I showed her where the shower was. We had tea and randomly talked about her situation. She was too calm and talked casually talked about her 'last night'.
After all the talks that she had with some people, she came to our office again and smiled calmly. She bid goodbye. She was going back to the house. She wants to be with her kids. She'll brave the maltreatment. After all, she's on the 'saner' side...
BIG SIGH.
I saw her this morning. I showed her where the shower was. We had tea and randomly talked about her situation. She was too calm and talked casually talked about her 'last night'.
After all the talks that she had with some people, she came to our office again and smiled calmly. She bid goodbye. She was going back to the house. She wants to be with her kids. She'll brave the maltreatment. After all, she's on the 'saner' side...
BIG SIGH.
Friday, 4 January 2008
Voice of Dissent
Help me understand just what he is saying about climate change...
We do have much room for diversity of opinions and ideas. I try hard to understand the need of looking at the problem at an objective manner. I don't play up guilt and fear when I approach the issue on climate change. It is not just me.
I ended up volunteering for climate change not because of the catastrophic end that we shall soon see. I put my energies on efforts that I know we can still do things together. My cause and my passion is not equated to my religion. Passions are feelings. When you run out of it, the faith that we get as believers are inexhaustible...
That is why, help me see what he is talking about.
We do have much room for diversity of opinions and ideas. I try hard to understand the need of looking at the problem at an objective manner. I don't play up guilt and fear when I approach the issue on climate change. It is not just me.
I ended up volunteering for climate change not because of the catastrophic end that we shall soon see. I put my energies on efforts that I know we can still do things together. My cause and my passion is not equated to my religion. Passions are feelings. When you run out of it, the faith that we get as believers are inexhaustible...
That is why, help me see what he is talking about.
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