city of a thousand years 2

On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. -Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le Petit Prince

When my classmate Kay mentioned her new scholarly interests- anthropology and intangible cultural heritage- one of the culturally significant tales I thought of was the legend of Ho Hoan Kiem or Returned Sword Lake. You can see the lake in the middle ground of the picture, taken on a terrace of an outdoor cafe in Hanoi's historical district.

When I first rode a cyclo around Ho Hoan Kiem, I was reminded of the lake in Burnham Park in the mountain city of Baguio where my brothers and I spent summers biking. I didn't think much of Ho Hoan Kiem until I read about the legend surrounding it that transformed it in my eyes into an emerald jewel: here was an invisible key to understanding Vietnam and its people.

Here is how Nguyen Van Ky tells the legend in the book Hanoi: City of the Rising Dragon, co-authored with Frenchman Georges Boudarel:

One of Hanoi's most famous legends is that of Returned Sword Lake. It is said that a mythical tortoise gave its sacred sword to King Le Lot (r. 1428-33), allowing him to expel the occupying forces of the Chinese Ming dynasty in the fifteenth century after ten years of resistance. The people from Hanoi also love to tell stories about the etymological origins of Thang Long, the city's first name. When the boats of Ly Cong Uan, the founder of the eleventh-century Ly dynasty, arrived on the site from Hoa Lu, a golden dragon appeared to welcome them and then flew off into the sky. This good omen convinced the king to build the capital there, calling it Thang Long, which means "the rising dragon."

The divine sword is said to have been "restored" since, after King Le Lot's victory over foreign invaders and while he was boating on the lake, the golden tortoise emerged from the deep once more and took back the sacred blade that the gods gave the king to save his people.

In the Philippines, an etymological legend about a lake I've come across is that of Lake Lanao- said to have been created by angels- which is why I'm drawn to visit the land of the Maranao, the People of the Lake, someday.

city of a thousand years 1

When I visited Hanoi- the political capital of Vietnam- two years ago, little did I know that it would be celebrating 1000 years this year- from 1 to 10 October 2010. I consider that trip personally significant because it was when I sought to discover my identity as an Asian.

In the university, all of us undergrads took a semester-long foundation subject called Kasaysayan 2 (History 2) on Asian History. In high school, we also tackled important events in the history of the world's largest continent. I was aware of the Srivijaya and Majapahit empires, heritage sites like the Angkor Wat, and religious artifacts like the lingam- but it was all intellectual. I didn't feel very Asian at all- that is, I couldn't relate to neighboring cultures- even if I knew that geographically the Philippines is in Asia: I practiced a religion adopted from the West, spoke English and wrote using the Roman alphabet, and watched Hollywood films. Whenever I travelled to Asian countries- before Vietnam, I had been to China, Thailand and Cambodia, for example- I felt like an observer who was passing through, rather than the bearer of a continental culture.

While Western cultural software gave me self-confidence and opened up capacious worlds, it also led me to ignore traditions and patterns- Malay, Islamic, Confucian and others- that are at least as culturally rich as those from Europe or America, many of which as an Asian are already part of who I am. I've just had to learn to see them.

The above travel video shows Hanoi, city of a thousand years, as well as Ha Long Bay, in my eyes- the eyes of a 21st century Manileño. The score is the theme song of a Filipino TV drama, Vietnam Rose, sung by Filipino balladeer Martin Nievera (thanks to ABS-CBN).

projection

For the swan is invariably the result of adherence to some aesthetic system of thought, a code transposed into a self-portrait; what we see is the imaginary portrait precisely projected. That is why certain women, while not truly beautiful, but triumphs over plainness, can occasionally provide the swan-illusion: their inner vision of themselves is so fixed, decorated with such clever outer artifice, that we surrender to their claim, even stand convinced of its genuineness: and it is genuine... -Truman Capote, Observations, 1959

Painting is Henri Matisse's "Portrait of Yvonne Landsburg." Photo below is my "Portrait of Mida Azada."

10 sa Louvre

Ayon sa librong ginamit ko para sa enneagram, ang bayan na sumasagisag sa aking pagkatao ay ang Pransya.

Ang enneagram ay isang modelo ng personalidad ng tao: sa pamamagitan ng pagsagot sa mga tanong, maaari mo raw malaman kung ano sa siyam (ennea ang salitang Griyego para sa numerong siyam) na uri ng personalidad ang mayroon ka.

Dahil sinasabing ang Pransya ang bayan ng sining at paglikha- ng orihinalidad- ang paskel ko ngayong araw ay tungkol sa pambansang museo nito para sa sining: ang Louvre. Ang tunog nito ay loo-vruh o loo-va- parang "move" sa Ingles- kapag binibigkas ng Pranses. Walang nakakaalam kung saan nagmula ang pangalang Louvre- maaaring ito'y galing sa salitang Latin para sa lobo (lupus, lupi) na sinasabing noo'y gumagala sa lugar.

Sa isang sulat sa kanyang mga magulang mula sa Paris, sinabi ni Rizal na "tila ang Louvre ang pinakamahalagang gusali sa Pransya." Marami sa orihinal ng mga larawan at eskultura na ating nakikita sa mga Kanluraning libro- mahigit sa 35,000 na mga likhang sining- ang matatagpuan dito. Maaaring isa ito sa mga dahilan kung bakit tinawag ng isang manunulat ang Paris na "pansining at kultural na nukleus ng sibilisasyong Kanluran."

Di tulad ng pamilya ni Rizal, tayo ngayon ay may Internet na'ng maaaring gamitin upang maging pamilyar sa mga obra maestra nito mula sa iba't ibang bayan at panahon. Sa ilalim ang sampu sa mga mahahalagang obrang makikita sa Louvre na aking nagustuhan:

1. Ang Piramide at ang Palasyong Louvre mismo- Narito ang larawan ng mga gusaling ito'ng aking ipinaskel dati. Noong maagang bahagi ng dekada 1980, kinailangang palawakin ang espasyo ng museo at ang naging solusyon ng arkitektong si I.M. Pei ay gawin ito sa ilalim ng lupa! Dahil dito, nasunod niya ang kondisyon ng Presidente na respetuhin ang matandang Palasyo. Nagsisilbing silong mula sa mga elemento ang mala-kristal na Piramideng gawa sa salamin para sa mga bisitang bumababa sa hagdanan nito papasok sa palasyong-museo. Sa baba- sa tinatawag na Korteng Napoleon- makikita ang Binaligtad na Piramide (larawan ko rito) na naging tanyag sa pelikulang "The Da Vinci Code" mula sa nobela ni Dan Brown.



2. Lumilipad na Tagumpay ng Samothrace- Tuwang-tuwa ako sa estatwang marmol na ito ng Griyegong diyosa ng Tagumpay o Nike dahil bagama't matagal na siya sa mundo (ginawa siya noon pang 2 BK sa isla ng Samothrace), patuloy pa rin siyang nagiging inspirasyon sa mga manlilikha- sa pagsasalarawan ng mga anghel sa mga simbahan o maging sa swoosh na logo ng isang brand ng sapatos. Sinasabing inspirasyon rin ito para sa mga genie na nagbibigay tanglaw mula sa ibabaw ng bakod ng simbahan ng Betis, Pampanga.



3. Mona Lisa- Malamang ito ang pinakatanyag na larawan sa mundo ngayon dahil sa mga pinagdaanan nito: ninakaw, binato, pinahiram sa Washington DC, Tokyo at Moscow, at pinakita sa "The Da Vinci Code." Noong panahon ni Rizal, tila di pa ito kasing kilala: di niya ito naisalarawan sa kanyang mga sulat tungkol sa Louvre. Nasurpresa ako dahil di pala kalakihan ang larawang ito ng Italyanong si Leonardo Da Vinci: 30" por 21" lamang. Pinintura ito noong mga 1503-1519.



4. Venus ng Milo- Bakit kaya inuming tsokolate ang naiisip ko 'pag tinitingnan ko siya? May maliit na kopya nito si Mommy; may kasinlaking kopya naman si JLC sa tabi ng kanyang swimming pool. Itong eskulturang marmol na ito- pinaniniwalaang ang Griyegong diyosa ng pag-ibig na si Aphrodite (Venus sa mga Romano)- ay ginawa noong mga 130 hanggang 100 BK. Dati'y may kulay ang mga marmol na Griyegong estatwa, ngunit nawala na ang pinta sa paglipas ng panahon at ngayo'y puti na ang mga ito.



5. Koronasyon ni Napoleon I- Ang maganda lang sa pagtingin sa ilang orihinal na larawan ay nakikita ang tunay na laki nito. Ang larawan sa itaas ni Jacques-Louis David ay parang billboard ang laki- parang Ang Spoliarium ni Juan Luna sa ating Pambansang Museo. Natuwa ako sa mga ibinurdang bubuyog sa ilalim ng kapa ng emperadora- simbolo ang mga ito ng imperyong Napoleon. Natapos ni David ang larawan noong 1807 pagkatapos ng tatlong taong pagpipinta.



6. Handaang Kasal sa Cana- Isa pang kwadrong parang billboard ang laki. Ang ganda ng mga kulay, lalo na ng kulay luntian- makikita sa itaas ang luntiang Veronese (Veronese green) na minsa'y ating nababasa sa pangmodang magasin. Natapos itong malaking larawang ito sa Venesya sa Italya ni Paolo Veronese noong 1563.



7. Balsa ng Medusa- Ang komposisyon at drama ng Spoliarum ni Luna at ang masa ng mga tao sa monumento ng People Power sa EDSA ang naaalala ko kapag tinitingnan ko itong larawan ni Theodore Géricault. Nagustuhan ko- tulad siguro ng marami nating kababayan- ang tatsulok na komposisyon ng larawan. Nang itinanghal ito noong 1819, itinuri itong iskandalo ng ilang kritiko. Sa unang pagkakataon, pinintura ang mga di kilalalang tao (mga sakay ng kalulubog lang na barkong Medusa) sa monumental na paraang dati'y ginagamit lang para sa pagpipintang pangkasaysayan. Naging sagisag ang larawang ito ng Romantisismong Pranses.



8. Mga piraso ng Parthenon- Nakapaligid sa Parthenon ang mga relief tulad nitong Plake ng mga Ergastine (mga mananahi ng damit na inaalay kay Athena, ang kanilang diyosa ng wisdom o dunong). Ang Parthenon ang tanyag na templo ng lungsod ng Athens na itinayo noong mga 447- 432 BK. Pagkatapos ng maraming siglo, naging inspirasyon ito para sa maraming gusaling pampamahalaan ng mga demokrasya sa buong mundo, tulad ng lumang gusali ng ating Kongreso (ngayo'y bahagi ng Pambansang Museo). Sa Athens sa Gresya sinasabing ipinanganak ang ideya at sistemang politikal ng pamumuno ng mga mamamayan. May mga nagtatanong lang kung kanino ang mga pirasong ito ng templo: sa Gresya? sa Pransya? O sa buong sangkatauhan?



9. Grande Odalisque- Nakakatuwa ang pag-imbento ng pintor na si Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres sa porma ng odalisque o babae sa Turkong harem. Mahaba ang kanyang likod nang tatlong vertebrae at di tugma sa realidad ang ayos ng dibdib at kaliwang binti nito. Naging inspirasyon daw ito kay Picasso para sa paghahati-hati niya sa mga larawan ng mga katawan- at ng mundo- ayon sa kanyang imahinasyon. Pinintura ang Odalisque noong 1814.



10. Batas ni Hammurabi- Bilang abogado, naintriga ako sa itim na batong ito. Inukit dito noong mga 1790 BK ang 281 na mga batas sa pamumuno ng ika-anim na hari ng Babylon, si Hammurabi. Simbolo ito para sa akin ng ideya ng pamamayani di ng hari o sinumang tao ngunit ng batas.


The pictures above are from the website of the Louvre: www.louvre.fr. For a virtual The Da Vinci Code tour of the museum and other thematic tours, click here.

transformation

Upon Mida's recommendation, I read Samuel K. Tan's A History of the Philippines. I was looking for a short book that I could read quickly from cover to cover to brush up on important events in our history. Specifically, I wanted to distinguish the various republics, as I would read- frequently in the posts of Manolo Quezon- about the First, Second, Third etc. Republic, a categorization I wasn't familiar with. (I thought only the French count five republics- the Philippines has the same number.)

What's wonderful about reading a history book for pleasure is the chance to appreciate the big picture, as well as the particular vision of the author. When I was in school, I was too busy focusing on names, artifacts and events that I didn't really notice any theme or main message of the historian.

I thought, What did it matter if I read Agoncillo or Constantino or my father, for that matter? All described the same people, the same events.

Now, I'm aware that history books, like literature, have an agenda, which makes them a rich subject for all sorts of readings. Each writer has a personality- and just like in meeting a person face-to-face, it's more fun during the dialogue to figure out what makes makes him or her tick.

In the case of S.K. Tan's short history, his purpose appears to be to present a balanced account of our three major communities- Muslims, Christians, and indigenous groups- and their actions and reactions to other peoples. His subject-position probably shaped this worldview: he was born in Siasi, Sulu of Tausug-Samal-Chinese parentage, and studied in Dumaguete, Zamboanga and Manila, as well as abroad. In his preface, Tan explained that by crafting a history that takes into account the experiences of indigenous cultural communities, together with those of Muslims and Christians, the fibers of our nationhood are strengthened.

While reading the book, I became even more interested in our history before the First Republic- before even our country's encounter with the West (Chapter II, The Cultural Breakthroughs, 250,000 BC- 200 AD). In part, this has been the result of talking to friends- most of whom are non-historians- who find it natural to view the present in the light of centuries past and who, moreover, are interested in the East- in Asia. By osmosis, I had already absorbed some of that attitude from Tatay. What a delight it has been to rediscover our country's past!

Each page describing an epoch or cultural encounter I read adds yet another dimension to my experiences and sense of self. Compared to the relatively blasé attitude I had before, my historical lens allows me to view life in High Definition or 3D. It is history not simply as a set of lessons or a map to the future, but history as transformation- taking the past from the pages of history and enlivening the present with it.

The picture above shows me as a wily Katipunero emerging from the trap door in Bahay Villavicencio in the quaint town of Taal, Batangas. The door, partly hidden beneath a Persian rug in the dining room, opens to a secret tunnel leading right to the sacristy of the cathedral. In case you recognize it, Bahay Villavicencio was used for a TV drama on the love story of Cory and Ninoy Aquino. History as transformation.

light and dark

One of the nice things about being in a nation that's taking off is that one is so close to mga bayani or heroes, one can almost touch them. Certainly this was what I felt when I visited the Aquino Center in Tarlac where, in the ennobling space created by Manosa, one can hear the march of history- the cry of a People shouting as one for the light.

Visit it during the day to see the museum and climb the tower for a panoramic view of the farms. Then return at night- on horseback- to see it gently glowing like a candle beneath the moon and the stars.

I was too young to know Ninoy Aquino while he was alive- reared by protective adults, it was only after his death when I learned about Silahis' father and other political prisoners during Martial Law. So it was great to overcome my phobia of the locale and visit the museum- I came away with the sense that, in my lifetime, there existed this extraordinary public servant and human being.

The first thing that struck me when I visited the museum was its first display. It was neither a memorabile of the late senator nor the late President Cory Aquino, but framed opinion articles from the Bulletin on Mrs. Aquino's father Jose "Pepe" Cojuangco, the agriculturalist-banker who founded Hacienda Luisita. Why was this so? I wondered. Later, while viewing the other exhibits, it struck me that, in remembering or assessing the achievements of Ninoy or the contributions of this extraordinary family to the nation, one cannot put the hacienda in a separate compartment- it is part of the cycle, perhaps it was even the material base, of their political life.

Tito Doc said that when he was studying in UP Diliman, he found Ninoy the student to be the most animated person around- he stood out because of the safari shorts he preferred to wear (everyone else wore pants in 1950s Diliman) and often used his hands and arms to communicate.

"He was the most animated person I've met until today," said my uncle.

Certainly, a series of black-and-white pictures of Ninoy as senator supports this claim- a hundred small pictures of the senator's face taken one after the other, each one showing a different facial expression! This was one of my favorite displays.

The senator's speeches, printed in booklet form and framed, were critical of the Marcoses and made me understand the morally righteous- some would say negative- tone of his son's speeches when the latter was still running for the Presidency.

I was moved by the replica of the late senator's jail cell- one can almost envy his rare journey through the depths of despair toward self-enlightenment, as reflected in his existential poems that are displayed on its exterior gray walls. Until one realizes that it was but a microcosm of the journey and process of self-realization that our entire country has gone and is going through.

And I was shocked to find his bloodstained white safari suit in a clear glass case in the heart of the museum.

I took a picture of the memento above because of its caption- it says the image was shot by the grandparents of a friend, J.J. Duque. The photograph shows the patriotic late senator doing his own flag ceremony in his Massachusetts farm. It would've been considered a quixotic, perhaps even crazy, act had he and millions of other Filipinos not proven later on the truth of his words, that we are worth living for- that we have a purpose in the history of humanity. The last mass attended by Sen. Aquino before he returned to the Philippines for his appointment with destiny was celebrated in a Boston church with J.J.'s lola and lolo, Betty and Jose Calderon.

iitoko-dori

I live in a city where several television stations have their headquarters, and tonight I saw peering over the treetops of our village two communications towers. They're painted orange and white (in compliance with air safety regulations) and- inspired as I was by the gardening principle of shakkei or "borrowed view"- I pictured the taller one to be the Tokyo Tawaa.

Now there is a landmark that all those whom I loved and who've lived in the city would have seen! I may not have viewed it beside them, but across time it becomes a shared experience.

One day, while walking towards the tower, I was shocked when a Japanese friend called it "a crappy version of the Eiffel Tower." Indeed it's an adopted vision of la Tour Eiffel, but not an exact copy- aside from its bright color, a third of it is made of metal from US tanks damaged during the Korean War.

Perhaps my tomodachi was just being modest, but I think the Tokyo Tawaa shows the amazing tradition of the Japanese of taking the best aspects of foreign cultures and making it uniquely theirs. It explains their past- and points the way to their future.

The Japanese have a term for this process: iitoko-dori.

Similar to the process carried out by Filipinos through the centuries in blending indigenous beliefs with Islam or Christianity and their attendant political and legal systems, iitoko-dori enabled the Japanese to harmonize Shintoism (which some scholars say is a form of animism and the basis of the Emperor's power), Buddhism and Confucianism.

Prince Shotoku in the 7th century explained how this was to be viewed: "Shintoism is the trunk, Buddhism is the branches, and Confucianism is the leaves." Thereafter, the Japanese were able to easily adopt new cultural values from other lands and improve upon the techniques that came with them- whether in politics, technology, business, architecture, or pop culture.

Far from being the symptom of a damaged culture, iitoko-dori shows the genius of a people in creative interaction with the world.

foundation tale

In the days leading to and after VJ's wedding, some of our relatives from the US arrived and we had the chance to hang out and nourish family ties. Ate Pinky and her husband Joel Harden were first to fly in (they had a taping for TFC's game show Wowowee); they were followed by Tito Bong, Ate Nenette, and Kuya Mario and, a couple of weeks later, by Ate Gigi, the wife of Kuya Bebot.

Ate Pinky shoots great pictures: she took my photo above with the New York skyline as the backdrop. One of love's happiest days was played out in this metropolis, and it truly is an exciting place- a city of soaring skyscrapers and vertical ambitions, a grid for anonymity, self-reinvention and, yes, sex- spectral desire that flickers and shifts like the electric stars lighting and magically transforming this drab skyline into romance each night.

New York as 20th c. financial capital is part of global mythology and, consequently, global Pinoy mythology: one possesses her (or in some cases is possessed by her) even before stepping on her shores. My first memory of this city- serving perhaps as its foundation tale for me- happened in fourth grade when my social studies teacher Mrs. Libunao made tsismis about an encounter here between then first lady Imelda Marcos and former American first lady Jackie Kennedy, after JFK's assassination and before she married Onassis.

According to one "blue lady" (a kind of lady-in-waiting of Mrs. Marcos)- the mother of one of our classmates- Mrs. Marcos and the blue ladies were in New York for one of her shopping sprees when she chanced upon Mrs. Kennedy looking at some pieces of jewelry in a shop (Van Cleef & Arpels?). They had never been introduced and knew each other only by reputation.

After Mrs. Kennedy left, Mrs. Marcos asked the salesman if Mrs. Kennedy had especially liked any piece.

Indeed she had, the salesman replied, sensing a kill. A stunning emerald necklace.

Oh I have enough money on me for that, Mrs. Marcos said, and proceeded to purchase the necklace which she immediately sent to Mrs. Kennedy's Fifth Avenue apartment as a getting-to-know-you gift.

Now comes the moral of this fourth-grade tale (hearsay in any case).

Before the Philippine shopping delegation left New York, Mrs. Marcos received a parcel in her hotel suite (she liked to hold court at the Waldorf-Astoria)- it was from Mrs. Kennedy and contained the emerald necklace and a note.

On powder blue stationery, Mrs. Kennedy wrote: Thank you for your lovely gift Mrs. Marcos, but I cannot accept this- it would be better to use the money to help the hungry people in the Philippines.

Our entire class of fourth-graders gave a collective gasp- we couldn't understand why Mrs. Kennedy didn't just take the expensive necklace- one that she apparently liked! It took many social studies classes later- many rallies, perhaps even EDSA- before we understood the complexities of public service ethics, gift-giving etiquette, debt-service and all that.

Had Mrs. Kennedy not returned the gift, my classmates and I would probably still be paying for that emerald necklace today! Because of her faux pas, Mrs. Marcos certainly added a priceless pearl of wisdom to her tiara (during the country's experiment with monarchy, she possessed at least three tiaras plus a crown- check out other Philippine Republic jewels, formerly Marcos jewels, here). Jackie's lesson on how to do the right thing, coupled with other life lessons since then, surely contributed to the political longevity of Imelda (Mrs. Marcos has since turned less regal- more democratic- and was recently elected her Ilocos district's representative in Congress).

Thank you JBKO, a true New Yorker!

full circle

On Twitter:

Preparing for brother VJ's wedding in San Agustin Church. Our parents got married there so their story will come full circle this afternoon.
12:29 PM May 2nd via Ping.fm

Bulacan unreal-ism

Long-time residents of San Rafael, Bulacan, say that this small chamber in their Old Church was where the boy on whom Rizal based the character of Crispin was locked up, whipped and died. There are no signs outside the church indicating this piece of literary history.

I found the church using tips from Tito Doc and Tito Ante. When I reached the church, I saw that the main entrance to the convent was locked and I reached the hidden room by climbing a flight of stairs at the back of the convent and passing through an empty kitchen, dining area and local museum.

Village elders say that after the Revolution, one could still see handprints in dried blood on the walls- now only a painting of the Noli's chapter 15 gives a clue to the historical significance of the place.

It was while walking through this church- the museum, choir loft, and belfry- when I finally had a dream- a flash like lightning- and pictured the answer to the question of the young woman in a green dress, about her husband's other son.

What's he like?

Just like in our school days, I saw that he remains a stylish dresser, someone who wears obscure, but well-crafted brands (like IWC). In the past, there were days when he and his best friend would wear black-rimmed glasses, though they didn't need to: many of us in the class didn't know it was geek chic, they were that sartorially advanced.

He was always smiling and pleasant to talk to- I never heard him say a bad word about anyone. We made small talk whenever we met- nothing serious, so I really didn't know much about him. Neither of us knew then that both our grandparents came from the same province.

He had an active social life and loved to party at night.

He wasn't very confident about his study skills, but I pictured that he discovered his unique intelligences later on. His visual intelligence, in particular, is very advanced: he sees patterns of form and color that escape ordinary people. One sees it in his sartorial choices- clean, simple, and stylish clothes- as well as the way he composes pictures with his camera: he loves minute details, patterns of lines, and reflections on water. He runs in the city's marathons.

I saw the relationship blooming at the height of his father's popularity and his birth a few months after Marcos declared Martial Law. He is now married and has two kids. He lives a private life.

family

When my friends Michal from Poland and K. from Korea arrived in the Philippines, I had the chance to introduce them to my entire extended family. My concept of family is organic and porous: since I was a child, I would spend a few days, or even a few weeks, with an aunt or an uncle on my father's side, and while growing up I lived with various cousins, nephews, and nieces of my mom.

Before climbing the Pinatubo volcano, the three of us spent the night in Village Inn Cabanatuan, a special place. While growing up, I spent summers here learning how to swim in the pool. This was where I recuperated each time my cousin Kuya Dondi and his dentist friend pulled a wisdom tooth: my nurse-aunt, Tita Violy, would then give me arroz caldo (Filipino rice congee) which always made me feel better. As an undergrad, Village Inn was where I nursed a broken heart (though I wasn't aware of it then). It was also where I reviewed for law school's entrance exams (which Prof. Disini said I topped).

At 5 in the morning, seeing the faces of my friends aglow with peace in the inn's garden, I knew that the magic of the place had descended on them too. Later, they would both say it was meeting my family that was the highlight of their trip.

The magic of Village Inn- and perhaps of my experience of Cabanatuan itself- is a product of the love of two people, the hotel's founders Tita Violy and my uncle Tito Doc (shown serving coffee and papaya fruit in the picture taken by Ric Lopez above). It's a love that radiates like the sun to their many relatives and friends, even entire clans and communities.

People would sometimes ask why I'm close to them- especially to Tito Doc- and I think part of the reason is we had the gift of space, both geographical and psychological. One can be blinded or get burnt by staying too near the sun too long. We spent just enough time to enjoy each other's company, appreciate each other's achievements, and look forward to our next get-together.

Tita Violy and Tito Doc are a blessing to me.

When choosing my course and campus as a high school graduate, I sought their advice: my life with its twists and turns, I imagine, would've turned out straighter and much less interesting had they answered my question differently. And after I became a lawyer they helped me rediscover my old avatars of writer and editor, as well as create new ones: photographer, videographer, website designer, and entrepreneur. They had faith that I would excel in anything I set out to do- not because I had already proven myself (oftentimes, they were my first clients in a venture, my angel investors or evangelists), but because they chose to believe in me. I realized myself as an artist- and as a human being- because of their love and imagination, their rare gift of suspending disbelief. Aside from being a refuge, Village Inn became my laboratory for creative projects my project associates and I would later develop on a national and international scale.

One morning after mass in the cathedral that they're helping build- it would be the largest one in Central Luzon when it's completed- I gave them my copy of The Intangibles That Make a Nation Great signed by the author Jovito Salonga. While we were in the car, I thanked them for our adventures- our many happy moments.

Always comfortable giving- I sensed, much more than receiving- they were quiet for some time.

They were already thinking of the next challenge they would give me.

Tatang

During one retreat in this Mindanaon monastery, I asked for permission from Father Col to join the monks in their labora or manual labor. All guests are welcome to join communal prayer during certain canonical hours starting with Lauds at 3:30 AM, but I was the first ever to volunteer to help with farmwork: I wanted to follow the community's motto of ora et labora (pray and work) as fully as possible during my stay, to see what spiritual fruit I could harvest from the experience.

I was given a straw hat and a bolo knife and assigned to help a monk cut wild grass and vines in one of the orchards. These contemplative monks have a vow of silence, but I do have a propensity- by my mere presence- for getting people to talk and pretty soon my companion was chatting about monastic life: how they grew much of the food on their table and sold their corn and coffee beans in the market; the financial challenges of running a monastery and farm; and their bemusement when another religious order which was prohibited by its rules from working begged them for food and alms.

That afternoon, while avoiding the bees the buzzed merrily around us, I remembered my late paternal grandfather (he appears with my brother Ojee in the picture above). Tatang was a rice farmer in Sapang Putik his entire life: with the support and business sense of my grandmother Inang, he was able to put all of their seven children through college.

Years later, while doing research for a book, I found out that he was also part of the Resistance during World War II- our family farm is in the heart of what was then called the Bulacan Military Area or BMA. During the War, no enemy soldier reached his guerrilla camp and lived to tell the tale. After the War, since he had fought as a guerrilla, his eldest child- my Tito Doc- received financial benefits in college from the government.

During lunch one summer while I was vacationing in Bukid, Tatang told my cousins Marc and Marcy and me to remember the hands that were responsible for our rice and food. He himself farmed the rice fields, but we his grandchildren were not asked to join him (he'd say it was too hot under the sun). He was a quiet man who hardly spoke, which was probably why his lesson of putting just enough food and eating each grain of rice on one's plate stuck. These days, for better health, I stop eating once I feel full, but not without first hearing Tatang's husky, gentle voice reminding me to feel grateful.

From the afternoon of labora in the monastery, guided by Tatang's spirit, I learned about the beauty and dignity of working with one's hands in tune with nature and the seasons. It was one of my happiest afternoons: I resolved to learn more about gardening and agriculture.

Tito Doc said that Tatang, while working in the fields during seasons of drought, would sometimes sigh, and his sigh would turn into a prayer: "Diyos ko, huwag Niyo pong pabayaan ang aking tanim." And it was a powerful prayer, for each time, a cloud would be seen floating toward Tatang's fields, stopping to hover above them and bring rain to the thirsty plants.

During one discussion about religion, I heard Tatay give an even better description of Tatang's simple faith: it was his work, labora, itself. For Tatang, as it should be for us all, laborare est orare- to work is to pray.

Tarlac unreal-ized 1

I woke up before dawn today to see outside my window a sky with pink and rose hues and- without the aid of my glasses- bokeh sparkling on the branches of a mango tree. And then I saw her again: the young woman wearing a green dress sat on the chair beside my bed. She said "hello" and waved a pale hand: in the half-light, her fingers looked like butterfly wings.

"It's a big day tomorrow, isn't it?" she asked. "Who are you voting for?"

And then she asked, "Do you remember going to school with my husband's son?"

I said I didn't- I never studied in the Ateneo (well, except recently for some short courses).

"No, no, think again- you were classmates."

I closed my eyes to try to remember, but when I opened them, I was alone in the room and a warmer, golden sunlight was streaming through the window. I looked at the alarm clock: it was already past 7 AM.

I first met her last year on my favorite stretch of highway in Tarlac. It looked new, and not many cars were passing through it yet. It was around noon- a sweltering first day of August- and I was going back to Manila from Cabanatuan.

Right after I passed through the toll gate, I had a flat tire, which two highway patrolmen helped me replace with my spare. When we were done, one of them asked if I could give a young woman a ride back to Manila. He pointed to the back of their white pick-up and I saw her looking out a back seat window. She gave us a shy smile- I thought she looked vaguely familiar, someone I may have already met.

"Sure," I said distractedly.

I was in a hurry to get home and I forgot to ask for her name or tell her mine. I had the car radio on, and several times we heard "Salamat Tita Cory" radio ads. I told my companion I thought it was a nice gesture: letting someone know she's appreciated, to give her the strength to overcome her illness. The young woman remained quiet and just looked out the window at the fields outside- she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

We reached the gas station where I usually buy halo-halo. I asked if it was alright if we just rested for 15 minutes.

Before stepping out of the car, she asked about the gadget I was charging in the compartment below the radio.

"It's an iPhone," I said.

"Can it check the Internet?" she asked. "Could you please look for the name of someone I know?"

I typed the name she gave me in the phone's Safari browser and read a message that stunned me: "My lola's in a better place now. Thank you Philippines..."

I checked my friends' status updates on Facebook. That was when I understood what the radio ads were about- when everything changed.

I went to the washroom and splashed cold water on my face, then quickly returned to the car and waited for the woman to return. When after 30 minutes she didn't come back, I tried looking for her in the shops. But like a fey spirit of earth and air- or a figment of one's imagination- she was gone. Until this morning, I did not see her again, though in the next few months I would hear her voice in my dreams.

ilustrado

Macmillan held the international launch of Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco in Manila and Cebu this past week. The novel won the Grand Prize for the Novel in English at the 2008 Palanca Awards (with Mr. H as chair of the panel of judges). In November of 2008, it won the Man Asian Literary Prize.

I got to meet the author "Chuck" when he was still preparing his manuscript for publication. I found him articulate, friendly and down-to-earth. Here's a picture I took of him with two other lovely people: London-based poet/ actress Mida Azada and National Book Development Board (NBDB) executive director/ fictionist Andrea Pasion-Flores.

Some interesting articles on the global launch are here and here. A great interview on the writer's life and work habits is here.

Ilustrado's US book tour schedule is here.

Join what Miguel Syjuco calls the "great discussion" by getting your copy from Amazon (European/ Canadian cover or Philippine/ American cover) or from National Book Store (at a special introductory price of Php 308, 20% off the SRP of Php 385, until the end of April).

Get inspired to write and create!

summer fling

animation for a cause

Our creative boutique recently completed animation to promote the Housing Microfinance program of microfinance institution Alalay sa Kaunlaran, Inc. (ASKI) and partners. I'm grateful to Dr. Joji Reyes and Gloria Guevarra of GHK International and Development for Poor Urban Communities Sector Project (DPUCSP), which commissioned the film (together with a longer telemagazine AVP), for their support and enthusiasm in the use of this medium to promote housing microfinance.

The animation concept, in fact, came from a brainstorming session with Dr. Reyes, a development consultant who graduated from UP who said she's always dreamt of an animation film showing the problem of lack of housing. As for me, it has been my dream to use animation for a cause (in previous projects, animation had been used as accents; this time, it was a separate chapter in the DVD). It was a great match!

The animator and graphics producer of this short animation is Reggie Vinluan, who was Business Manager during my term in the Collegian. (The score is by another former colleague in the paper, Pearlsha Abubakar, now known as "Isha.") Reggie and Anna took up film in the College of Mass Communications in UP Diliman, and they were part of the same batch of Fulbright scholars who went to the US for grad studies (Reggie studied animation in the University of Southern California (USC), whereas Anna took up developmental economics in Johns Hopkins). Reggie wrote such amazing articles for the Culture Section- he seemed to reinvent the English language- that I assumed writing was his main passion: I didn't find out he was also gifted in the visual and cinematic arts until much, much later (his uncle is former UP College of Fine Arts Dean Nestor Vinluan).

Animation is an ubiquitous part of popular culture- on cellphone screens, electronic billboards, TV, and the movies. Filipino animators are part of the production of many Disney films and, with developments in technology and communications, animation has emerged as one of our sunrise industries.

As for me, I've always found moving and talking images magical- among the arts, it's probably the closest we could get to the divine act of breathing life into inanimate things. To watch a concept be translated into drawings and then transformed into moving images always makes me feel the joy of discovery: it brings back the feeling of playing with Lego blocks. For this project, it simplifies a complex message and brings a ray of sunshine- optimism and hope- to a serious issue.

One B

A friend of mine from the Supreme Court was regaling me with tales of a "legendary Falcon Crest" block in UP Law, when in the midst of her storytelling I slowly realized the block she was talking about was my own! As I didn't watch this American soap, I checked the plot online and found little in common between the Machiavellian scheming of its characters and the tempestuous relationships in our class. Nonetheless, we did create our own share of drama- just enough to make life in law school more interesting.

We were freshmen when the above picture with our adviser, Prof. Muyot, was taken. I was class president then, but too busy trying to balance reading cases and writing for the campus paper: I was oftentimes the last to find out about the latest class dispute or entanglement, except when I myself was involved in it!

Prof. Muyot helped provide balance and stability to our class of anarchy, One B. He encouraged us to show up for our parties... and stay beyond 9 PM even if we had a backlog of readings. He reminded us that, for better or worse, we would be stuck with each other for many years, so that we might as well make the best of it. And he gave us a vision of ourselves as future leaders of the country.

Our class has had two reunions the past month- it's a jubilee year for us, and people are making a special effort to reconnect. What's wonderful is how we know each other- both our flaws and strengths- because of the pressure-cooker experience that was law school. While my most intense relationships probably happened outside our block- or even our College- the friendships I made in our block are definitely among the most resilient and longest-lasting.

illusions

You are led through your lifetime by the inner learning creature, the playful spiritual being that is your real self. Don't turn away from possible futures before you're certain you don't have anything to learn from them. You're always free to change your mind and choose a different future, or a different past. -Richard Bach (Illusions, 1977)

I just returned to my Vasco Da Gama room after a candle-lit dinner by the Mindanao Sea with some Facebook friends, people with whom I spend a few days in exotic locales every couple of years. We're all here for a wedding, and while talking to Cathy, the bride, we realized that it has been around ten years since we last talked to each other.

Yet I feel like I know her very well, perhaps because we went through an intense experience together- perhaps because, as Richard Bach said, we know our friends in the first minute we meet. You see, Cathy accompanied me in my first trip abroad- to Beijing- and for me was a calming presence. At one point, she even helped carry my luggage in the Manila airport! Beneath a graceful exterior was a strong spirit. And it was in Beijing where she met Laurent, who she'll marry tomorrow.

The day has been magical for me. Each of my friends is surrounded by an emotional zone- when we talk, I see a flesh-and-blood person, and I also see the wonderful places and people we've seen together. It's almost like watching a film, or living episodes of my life all over again. I even bumped into someone who's not a Facebook friend, but who once made my days better- and helped me achieve more than I could have by myself. So it's an unforgettable day in a special place.

I also see how I'm changing: a part of me can now view emotions with disinterest, or at least amusement, instead of being overwhelmed by them. It's time to change the "Romeo and Juliet," roller-coaster script of my most important relationships- perhaps for me tomorrow's wedding of Cathy and Laurent would also mark a turning-point, a graduation into the next stage of my journey.

once a catholic

That's the title of a book that an agnostic friend once made me read. I think out of curiosity- and also the desire to find answers to her own questions- she asked me why I would stick with Roman Catholicism, notwithstanding my disagreement with certain positions of the Church (on birth control, for example).

I answered that, for me, my spirituality- my personal relationship with God (or the Force or the cosmos)- precedes the institutional religion to which I belong. Roman Catholicism provides the forms and structures that allow me to express my gratitude to the universe and connect with the pulse of life, and I am comfortable with this.

Moreover, isn't religion inherited, in a way? I am Catholic because my parents and grandparents are Catholic; you are agnostic, because one of your parents is agnostic (and an intelligent and articulate one at that).

Well, now, I can think of a third reason: the Church has given me a community, a web of relationships that has given me security and a sense of belonging. In Nueva Ecija, for example, where I've been spending a lot of time these past few years, Tito Doc and Tita Violy treat the clergy- fellow priests of my cousin Msgr. Mike- as members of the family.

Because of these ties, I met Fr. Elmer (in the picture above), to whom I can easily relate because we're around the same age. He once said that a priest has three traits: he is priestly, kingly, and prophetic. And interested as I am in others, I sought to better understand Fr. Elmer and all priests by adopting these aspects- in a way, by realizing the priest within me.

I believe that what's most important in a religion are its standards for ethical conduct that allow people to live with dignity and in peace with each other, as well as realize their best selves.

Thankfully, our Church friends have not put me in a box and, instead, have given me space to be myself- to contribute to Christianity in my own unique way.

foresight/ insight

The ancient Chinese mind contemplates the cosmos in a way comparable to that of the modern physicist, who cannot deny that his model of the world is a decidedly psychophysical structure. The microphysical event includes the observer just as much as the reality underlying the I Ching comprises subjective, i.e., psychic conditions in the totality of the momentary situation. -Carl Jung

When I went into seclusion at the beginning of the New Year, one of the three books I brought with me was the I Ching or Book of Changes. It is 3,000 years old- the symbols even older, up to 5,000 years old- and, according to the translator of my book, has been used throughout this time "by seers, rulers and laymen alike to find solutions to problems of love and marriage, military strategy, career and matters of state."

I discovered the I Ching through Anna, who was amused by her mom's use of the book until she herself secretly took it from Mrs. H.'s shelf in their old manse in San Miguel, Bulacan, studied it, and used it to get answers to some questions. She was surprised by the uncanny relevance of the answers and decided to even ask it, "How will Voltaire do in life?"

We were in Baguio or Sagada sometime in the mid-90s when she shared the answer to that question with me. She may already have been AIESEC LCP, though I was not yet Kule EIC.

I felt a bit upset by this, but her reading of the solid and broken lines- the hexagrams- felt so right, so consistent with my truest, most private beliefs at the time that irritation quickly turned to wonder and amazement. The answer made such an impact on me that I still keep the piece of paper on which Anna wrote it. For more than a decade I've seen the reading come true or, more probably, I've chosen paths to make it come true.

There were several other instances when I've used the I Ching. I would borrow one of Boojie Basilio's English translations and toss peso coins to create the lines. When he saw that I was one of the few colleagues who didn't laugh at him for this practice, he gave me the simple translation that I keep with me today.

Like Jung, I use the ancient text mainly as a psychological tool to tap into the unconscious whenever I have mental blind spots or emotional knots: not so much to gain foresight, as for insight. The way the hexagrams work for me is similar to the effect of an interesting painting or a good line from a book or a song: they provide a structure around which random observations, thoughts, and feelings can wrap themselves and be seen more clearly by the conscious mind.

One of the most important principles of the I Ching is that one's circumstances are always changing- it's similar to the Filipino belief in the "gulong ng palad" (wheel of one's palm), whereby what goes down in time goes up, and vice-versa. One must therefore learn to adapt and be flexible, like our bamboo that bends and rises with the changing strength and direction of the winds.

touchstone

It's a New Year- a new decade- and what better way to start it than by touching base with one of history's greats, Apolinario Mabini. He was known as the Brains of the Revolution and- because at around age 31 he lost the ability to move his lower limbs because of polio- the Sublime Paralytic.

It's great how many role models we have who correspond to the different facets of our own selves. There's Bonifacio, the person of action, and Rizal, the Renaissance man. Mabini would correspond to the lawyer- perhaps also the political scientist- in everyone (his writings, in range and tone, are similar to contemporary essays by MLQ III and Philippine Commentary bloggers).

Mabini has become the inspiration for literature, such as the Rosales Saga of F. Sionil Jose, and for art, such as the 1964 Angel Cacnio painting to the right showing his capture by American soldiers in Cuyapo, Nueva Ecija.

He died at a young age of 39- so many of our national heroes died young, perhaps because they were still passionate and idealistic: the years had not yet altered their pure vision for the country.

I think it's also wonderful how our ancestors make their presence felt everywhere, as ordinary miracles.

After visiting the tomb and looking around the museum of Mabini in Tanauan, Batangas, I joked to my knowledgeable guide that they must be related. And he revealed that indeed they are!

Here is my picture with Mabini shrine caretaker Vergel John Mabini Ceniza, a great-grand nephew of the architect of the revolutionary government- Mabini looks amused at the efforts of his grand-niece (Vergel's aunt) to take our picture using my iPhone. Vergel has an uncanny resemblance to his great grand-uncle (the latter was always single, so they are among his closest living relatives).

More pictures in the Perelandran Frontier blog here.

Below is a short version of Mabini's Decalogue- a sublime set of commandments uniting love of God with love of country- as helpful a life map in the 21st century as in his all-too-brief, but blazing, lifetime:

DEKALOGO

I. IBIGIN ang Diyos at Karangalan higit sa lahat.

II. SAMBAHIN ang DIYOS ayon sa budhi mo.

III. LINANGIN ang sarili mong kakayahan.

IV. MAHALIN ANG BAYAN sunod sa Diyos at Karangalan.

V. PAGPUMILITANG lumigaya ang bansa una kaysa sarili.

VI. SIKAPIN SA BAYAN MO ang Kasarinlan na kagalingan mo rin.

VII. HUWAG KILALANIN ang kapangyarihan ng di-halal ng bayan.

VIII. PAGPUNYAGIANG magtatag ng Republika at di ng Kaharian.

IX. MAHALIN ANG KAPWA gaya ng pagmamahal sa sarili.

X. ANG KABABAYAN ay ipalagay na kaibigan, kapatid at kapalad.