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The Pond

One night in 2001, some months after my last job in the government was terminated, I was stuck in bed gazing at the ceiling and was in deep thought on what to do then with my life. I had a job offer from a friend but the pay was way too low compared with my last paycheck that I much rather tried some other options then, like taking the bar examinations the following year. It was hard turning down that job offer especially when the offer came from someone I knew too well. What if he had needed my services that badly? But then, I had a future to take care of and so I had to inform him quite honestly that I was preparing for the bar that summer and it wouldn’t be in my best interest to have my hands full on an accounting/marketing job. I had to take some risk I had decided then and go for the farsighted plan that could offer me probable long-term benefits than be stuck with a dead-end job.

Perhaps it was too much of youthful diffidence in me that at some nights I had shivered just thinking how the realities of existence is not what many of us had supposed to be when we were much younger, that the world is at times a dog-eat-dog existence where one must claw up the ladder just about every time, even to the point of elbowing others and stepping on their shoes just in order to find a semblance of meaningful existence.

That particular night, the weather was so warm that even when the electric fan hummed at its fullest, I had perspired so monstrously that I could almost hear my sweat dripping from my skin. Drip…drip…drip…I turned on my stereo and listened to an aria of Andrea Bocelli and the coolness of his voice made me feel a little better. Conte le partira, Paesi che non ho mai…Vel dutto ver sutto conti….Conte le partira…

(more...)





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The River

This is a poem I've written five or six years ago. It's about the unity of man, as a sublime idea. Whether or not it is achievable---in a world full of discord and disharmony---is a question that waits so ardently for an answer. And I hope it to be answered in the most positive way.

The River of Mesopotamia

In the ancient valleys of Tigris,
in the days of still molt and rock;
a river sung the serenade
of the beginnings of life,
as it moved in crystalline fluidity,
to brim with sparkles and light,
and come across upon a rock reckoned in time,
it is a moment set forth as a matter of design.

And the river became two,
the great parting of waters
in the dawning of the Earth,
to thread two different roads
and two different eras,
one found in the East,
another in the West,
to spread further and further,
until the sound they hear were
merely of their own
and nothing more.

Rushing in vigor and strength
each alone in the wilderness,
among the great wars of the world,
through the ashes of kingdoms burnt,
the mischief of kings and emperors,
through scorched earth of conquests,
of kingdoms and empires
both the fortunate and the inopportune;
as they run feverishly,
one oblivious to the other,
welcoming merely the beatings
of their own hearts
and of no other,
and every other beating of the heart they hear
was of the enemy and the enemy merely.

Amidst the rage of their marathon,
seemingly unending and without destination,
and with a ferocity so great that
even rocks of great prominence
would crumble into dust---
by the sheer strength of their pursuits,
or by the wave of their hands.

As another time was set forth,
where for once they looked heavenward
the journeys they threaded
finally found a single star,
to speak the truth in their own hearts
that in their own glorious runs,
no matter how magnificent and forceful,
still the Heavens are their own navigators,
upon the comets and constellations,
so that the rivers would find a path to travel,
a road set forth from the beginning of time
while they go nearer and nearer,
they begin to hear the same beat
that is not merely of their own separate hearts,
but of two hearts moving as one
running faster and faster,
like stallions in the hills of a desert
where in the beginning of time
there is only one river
that became two,
and then becoming one again.





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Know

Know one’s self. Know thyself. I have heard or read about this saying, principle, advise, or guiding words a myriad times before yet this afternoon, it was one main major point of discussion that I had with a friend that had came over this morning, and the conversation lasted till early afternoon that I felt like it was old days once again. Family life and work had somehow stave away extra time from our routine like for example this friend who had been camping in a tent for nearly half a year now somewhere in the mountains, about 400 miles away from here, supervising over a harvesting of Gemilina trees that his olds had planted several years ago.

Tony is pretty sharp on these things, ruminations about facts of life---just as I am perhaps when my mind is clear.

The way to unravel the secret and happiness and contentment he said is through “knowing oneself fully” and then being comfortable with it. The others become a mirror of the self that in every moment that one speaks or interact with another individual, there lies the reflection of the true identity of the converser and thereon---through this mirror effect---is the means to find the true self.

If one carries a lively disposition when one speaks, the other communicator becomes lively as well---most of the time at least. If the first speaker interacts in a lonesome manner, the other person becomes forlorn as well. This is the mirror of the self, according to him. The individual becomes the reflection of the other, and by this means, one would be able to find the true self.

When you are happy, I am happy as well. If you are down, I am down as well. So therefore, he says that if we find ourselves in the other people that we speak to, they become a reflection of our selves and therefore lies the path towards “fully knowing ourselves”, a one good step or means to unravel the mystery of our own being. For in fact, even in high school we have been inculcated with the “four windows” principle of the self, where one window is the “self” as the individual himself/herself knows it, the second one as the “self” that others know about, the third window being the “self” that everybody knows about, including the individual himself or herself, and the fourth window being the “self” that no one really knows, not even the individual himself or herself.

I for one had conformed to this idea---to know our true selves wholly in order to gain happiness---even when I believe that the pursuit of happiness is never-ending because for one, how would contentment persist if one does not know one’s real self in the first place. Who am I? What do I desire? What do I intend to attain? Where am I going?

Yet, I digress for a while and have forwarded a countering thought to this idea of “knowing oneself” in other to gain happiness because in the first place, happiness is a very relative fact. Rich people are happy but they can be unhappy also, perhaps for reason not of lack of things, but by lack of meaningful activities.

Poor people are often thought to be full of discontent but they could be happy and contented as well even if they have lack of things, for they might have more meaningful activities. And happiness I said to Tony is a force or fact of life that could not be put under the control of man, that not even the brightest scientist would be able to get a full grasp of it, and state empirically and powerfully that “Voila! Eureka! Omigosh! I finally found the formula for instant happiness!”

Unlike instant noodles, happiness could not really be had by just adding hot water into a small plastic contraption and stir it gently until the noodles are soft and tender.

Sometimes I said, to know our true selves even becomes the instigator of discontent. If I know myself, myself wants this and that. My real self wants to drive a Jaguar in the stony streets of Zamboanga. If you ask me really what I want, I want to have a huge dollar account and be sipping piñacola in Bahamas all day, all night---all year round. Of course, this is superfluous and I am just half jesting when I say this. But if you survey the population, perhaps 90% would respond that their idea of happiness is to have great fortune and then have great meaningful activities---like sipping fruit juices in a Caribbean shore.

So it’s better that I readjust my knowledge of my real self so that I could readjust my aim for happiness. At times, we need to shove our real selves under the carpet or kept inside a cupboard, to be taken out when needed.

But hey, if I’ve got to readjust the level of aims I need to have, I need first to find my “true self”.

So therefore, Tony is right. To know oneself is the way to contentment and then have happiness. Not exactly. To know one true self is “one” way to unravel the secret of happiness. There might some other way, you know.





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We Could Pay Up 5% Of Our International Debt

I have not minded yesterday’s SONA by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo although I was aware of it as early as Friday last week. This is somehow very unexpected of me since in years past, I have always been mindful of every SONA speech given, even as early as the Aquino administration. In fact, I had made it a point often in the past to be at home near the time when the speech is about to begin. But this year, I just woke up this morning and as I logged in to surf for the news, I was a bit surprised at myself upon realizing that in fact, yesterday afternoon, when President Arroyo had given her SONA, I wasn’t mindful about it. I could not easily explain why upon such realization, I felt some weight taken out of me, like a thorn snatched from my inside, just like perhaps how one alcoholic feels on the very day he or she had finally kicked out excessive drinking (a bad habit), or any drinking of any alcoholic beverage for that matter. That is, I felt lighter upon realizing that for this year, I haven’t got already the inclination to watch a speech that many says is merely full of promises, but empty in action.

So this year, I felt like I kicked a bad habit and did not watch the SONA live for the first time in more than a decade. It used to be that SONA watching had even became some kind of a ritual for me, like bird-watching or whale watching, making sure every time that I’d be home early in the afternoon and cancel whatever itineraries I have, those that weren’t ultimately urgent, and I would fix myself a sit in front of the television, and the boiling water always constantly heated and reheated for an afternoon tv watching marathon with mugs after mugs of hot black coffee, anticipating how the whole nation would be glued for an annual speech many says is merely full of words but empty in action, and seeing in my mind’s eye the costly gowns the ladies would be wearing, like it was Oscar awarding night, and how the men would be clapping at every pause or slow respite in the president’s oral masturbation, or how they would pretend to be clapping.

In every SONA event, I always have that feeling that if someone---perhaps, the sergeant-at-arm on duty for that day or the head security---would take a sack (or sacks) and carry it around the SONA audience---around senators and congressmen and congresswomen, governors, mayors, generals, heads of offices, colonels, tycoons, media bigwigs, pharmaceutical company executives, political advisers, political minions, exporters, importers, university professors, franchise holders, athletes, world boxing champs, actors and actresses, holymen…no…not holymen---and collect all Gucci bags, Rolex watches, Bangkok jewelries, diamonds, Italian leather shoes, Italian leather women’s shoes, Armanis and any other thing that glitters and worn for that day---I have a great feeling that we could pay up about 5% of our international debt right on, at that very moment, or perhaps build-up a huge housing project for ten thousand families, or feed all the hungry children living in the streets---right here, right now….RIGHT ON THE SPOT.

BUT RIGHT NOW---just allow me to enjoy this newfound feeling of being able to escape a bad habit; of listening to a speech many says merely full of words but empty in action.





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