ang hindi lumingon

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Sabi nila, marami daw ang nakakalimot lumingon sa kanilang pinanggalingan. Hindi ko minsan naisip na mangyayari to sa kin.

Parang kahapon lang ng ako’y nasa Sibuyan kasama si Lola, umiigib ng tubig sa poso, nagtatampisaw sa ilog at dagat, nagtatabi tabi po sa mga kulipaw at nagbibilang ng mga huni ng kuliglig pagdating ng gabi dahil walang ingay ng mga de kuryenteng gamit sa paligid.

Naalala ko pa na pinapapasok namin ni Lolo ang mga manok sa ilalim ng aming bahay kubo tuwing hapon at ginigising kami ng mga tilaok nito pagdating ng umaga. Pag tanghali naman ay sinusubukan naming sungkitin ang mga lomboy, mangga, at tambis sa aming puno para meron kaming imimiryenda.

Ang simple ng buhay noon, walang kailangan pag aralan kundi ang paglipas ng panahon at pag iwas sa mga bagyong sasalanta sa aming taniman. Kung suswertihin ay may malalaking isda o lambay na ilalako sa aming bakod at papalitan ang mga ito ni Lola ng isang salop na bigas o ng ilang niyog at saging.

Maliit din ang mundo noon, lahat ng tao sa paligid ay pamangkin ng kapatid ng apo ng tatay ng pinsan ni kuwan. Lahat ng tao ay kamag anak, mabait at mapagkakatiwalaan.

Hindi ko alam kung kelan ko unang napansin na nagbago ang ikot ng mundo, kung kelan naging kumplekado ang lahat, kung kelan biglang lahat ng bagay ay natutumbasan ng pera, kung kailan nawala ang pagtitiwala ng mga tao sa isa’t isa.

Siguro nagsimula  ito ng tumigil sa paghuni ang mga kuliglig na natabunan ng tunog ng mga radyo at telebisyon sa kanto. Malamang kasabay nito ang pagkawala ng mga kulipaw at mga puno sa paligid ng dati naming kubo. Isa isa na ring nawala ang mga pinsan ng tatay ng apo ng kapatid ng pamangkin ni kuwan. Baka nagpa syudad na sila o nangibang bansa at iniwan ang sariling bayan.

Noong isang araw ay napanaginipan ko si Lola, nakangiti sya ng sabihin kong sasakay ako ng eroplano at tatawid ng langit para dalhan sya ng malalaking tsokolate at mansanas. “Ay sarawayon ka gid”, ang sabi nya, “ano imong ginahambal, wara na gani ko’y ngipon, anhun pa naku ang mansanas, wa na kadulot! Ayaw na pagkadto”, sabay tawa at kurot sa aking tuhod.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit ako aalis pero kailangan. Minsan kapag bumukas ang pinto, dapat itong puntahan para malaman kung ano ang nasa kabilang dulo. Maaring masaktan, magkamali, madapa, masugatan, pero hindi ito ang pinaka nakakatakot na pwedeng mangyari sa buhay. Mas nakakatakot mabuhay ng parating nagtatanong ng kung ano kaya sana.

Sabi nila, marami daw ang nakakalimot lumingon sa kanilang pinanggalingan. Sa tingin ko, hindi ito mangyayari sa kin

23 minuto makalipas ang ika-4 ng umaga, ika-2 ng Hulyo, 2013

my friend

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I wrote this piece back in the first semester of 1999 while sitting in at a class of Abstract Algebra, this was in response to the poem in Kahlil Gibran’s “The Madman”, which I was reading while the professor was discussing ring homomorphisms – talk about multitasking!

I finished writing it in less than an hour, faster than I could prove isomorphic functions. If I had pursued creative writing, I’m sure I would have been pondering on the origins of natural numbers while the professor rambles on about metaphors.

I guess it just shows that we are more than the things we study, more than degrees and titles we add to our names, more than labels and boxes we try hard to fit ourselves into.

We are infinite possibilities waiting to happen, and we can do more as long as we put our heart and mind into it.

my friend, I dream too much of the past,
too much that I’ve lost myself in it,
unable to wake and live once more.

the “I” in me my friend
would like to leave the house of silence,
for it has been there for too long,
I would not like to be chained forever

when you called me and I did not answer,
my mind was flying over the hills and high mountains,
I was finding myself
I was hoping you’d find me

my friend, you do not understand my wandering thoughts,
but I’d like you to understand,
I cannot fly alone

when I look at the sunset,
you impatiently wait for the break of dawn,
yet even then we bask under the radiance of the same moon,
how I would like you to see my sunset,
as I would love to welcome your dawn

when you swim for the shore, my friend,
I let the waves crush me to the rocks,
for death is the only way I know I could be free.
I wish I knew how to swim
I wish you could teach me

you say I love truth and beauty and righteousness,
yet you do not see how I burn,
how I wish you would see,
but you do not want to,
so I let you believe

my friend, I am not good and wise, no I am not perfect
I would like to shout and be mad for once,
but my walls are too high,
no one will hear me

my friend, you tell me I am not your friend,
help me to understand,
can we not walk together?
I’ll let you lead the way,
let me take your hand

fading into mediocrity

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A friend once asked me why I would want to leave this paradise to swim out there with the sharks.  This is a nice nook to grow roots in and though I’ve tried to escape this place a lot of times in the past, I keep coming back just because it’s so easy to just slip and slide here, to spin in place and fade into mediocrity. It’s a comfort zone and after the jungle I’ve been to, it’s a welcome change to finally find some peace and quiet.
When I expressed that I’ll be moving on to uncharted territory soon, my workmate said he’d rather be a big fish in a small pond than be a small fish in the big sea, that way he can affect how the current flows and he will matter more compared to those around him. While it might be tempting for a 5th grader to solve nursery rhymes to get an A+, I would rather try some polar coordinates to expand my understanding. After all, you’ll never know how far you can go unless you risk going too far.
It’s true, it’s so easy to just stay and not upset the waters, but my heart is a warrior and it will not rest until it has conquered its Kilimanjaro. Though I’ve been in free parking for a time now, I’m ready to throw my dice into the air to see where it lands, it could be Boardwalk or it could be jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, but I’ll never know until I try right? So here we go..

busy with pea bee sea

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It’s that time of year when I have to play teacher and rate students based on their performance. So of course I had to find some distraction to pull me away from the task at hand ^^ well you know me, if something can be put off till tomorrow, then put it off now, right? 🙂

But seriously, life at work has been too.. for lack of a better word.. serious, it’s been all about numbers and targets and goals and vision, very grownup stuff and the little kid in me has been told to shut up. Maybe this is why our team started cooking up crazy challenges for us to hurdle, just so we will be reminded that we can actually do other things aside from our usual task, which is saving the world from becoming a dumb planet.

Last Saturday, we had a fun team event – amazing race style – where each group had to climb a hill, pose with a dragon, reenact a battle scene, take a drinking challenge and finally catch fish (10 to be exact) – all before lunch! The pit stops were scattered all over the city and the team may only ride jeepneys or motorcycles, nobody was allowed to take cabs. Now, if that’s not fun for you, I don’t know what is ;p

Tonight as I look at this spreadsheet and count other people’s achievements for the year, I wonder if I took in enough of the fun last weekend to help me get through.

I’m just glad I can write again.

where’s home?

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Somebody emailed and asked for this article, so thank you Google for having the actual news print on file. I think I lost my original unedited copy of this so good thing there’s an online newspaper version. It’s actually copyrighted by Inquirer because as soon as you submit it to YoungBlood, you get some $$$ and it’s theirs to keep forever.

Anyway, here it is transcribed:

—

Another night in Fukuoka, a night to be spent watching the waves break in the vast sea, and admiring the twilight engulfing the sky with colors and shadows.
I’ve been away from home for more than two months now, and still the vastness of the sky, the cool wind from the sea of Kyushu and the pale light from the stars provide me little comfort. Knowing there is still 10 weeks left before I will see the sunset from the shores of my own country deepens my sadness. I tell myself I am missing my home and wishing to go back.
But where is my home?
Is it in Romblon, where I lived until I was around 4 years old? Is my home there with my lola, who raised me and told me stories about their life during the war, and taught me nuggets of wisdom that sounded like vague puzzles when I was young? Is it somewhere there between the coconut trees and the beaten path leading to the river in the town where only the rich has electricity and watching a movie means sitting before a television set powered by batteries?
Or is it in the different boarding houses in Manila where my mom and I used to live after leaving my father, who gambled away my mother’s earnings and who came home late at night and beat her up? Is it in relatives’ houses in Las Pinas, Makati, Marikina, Bulacan and cavite who complained day in and day out about the rising costs of food and electricity and water and how some people living with their family weren’t contributing enough?
Is it in Cebu where I studied college, living on my own, learning to fend for myself, and loving the moon for being my constant companion and being the only sure thing in the world?
Is it in the shores of Dumaguete to where my brother was deported after he flunked several subjects and lived like a prince, getting monthly allowance while wasting his life away?
Is it in Bohol where my father took all of us one Christmas and brought us to a beach without checking if we had enough money to go back to the city, and so drenched by the rain, we had to wait for someone who would give us a free ride back to the hotel?
Is it on the ship where we spent one New Year going back from Romblon to Manila? Or is it on the bus where we spent one Christmas going back from Batangas to Makati?
Or is home in any of the countless hotels we stayed in as we went to different place? (No, we did not go to different place to look at interesting sites but because there was no other place we could stay for so long.)
So tell me, my moon, is home on the 11th floor of the office where I work until early morning and from where I take long cold walks to an empty room in yet another boarding house? Is it here in a foreign country where I have to learn neew technology and a new language, and wake up everyday to strange sounds and faces and places and culture?
My moon doesn’t answer. I think only the waves and the wind hear my musings. So tonight, I will sleep tight, and from tomorrow onwards, I will bring my home with me wherever I go.

2002.05.09

what’s in a number?

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it’s esp cycle once again and this should be fairly easy for me, a math major who’s into numbers and figures and percentages, there’s really nothing to it, the ranges are there, the factors are lined up, and all i actually need to do is plug the digits and submit them to my upline for approval. so what’s holding me back?

it’s just that these numbers just grew faces, and these faces have grown into people, and these
people have lives and families and hopes and dreams, and here i am putting a number on them.

so this is how it feels to grow a heart.