Twittering Machine

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

bayani 2009

We should wear this civilization without being bothered by it, without ignoring it, without being caught by it... Be like a boatman. Although he is carried by the boat, he is also handling the boat. This is how we live in this world. -Shunryu Suzuki, Not Always So

My end-of-the-year reading is M. McCarty's How Philosophy Can Change Your Life: 10 Ideas that Matter Most (2009). These 10 ideas are themes that, according to the philosophy professor, you and I need to grasp if we want to live a truly fulfilling life. They include:
  • Simplicity (philosophers discussed: Epicurus and Charlotte Joko Beck)
  • Possibility (philosophers discussed: John Stuart Mill and Simone de Beauvoir)
  • Joy (philosophers discussed: Shunryu Suzuki and Jane Addams).
2009 for me is a testament to the power of ideas: their power to create new things, to unite people, to transform a society. If philosophy is, as a child tells the author, "upside-down thinking," there were times when indeed it felt like we were going against the tide. But we can look back to this year, with its storms both natural and human-made, and remember with gratitude the forces within us that allowed us to rise above them together. 2009 is a story of kabayanihan or heroism, but above all it is a story of love: love lost, love found, and love regained.

May we choose our public servants wisely and have a peaceful transition of roles in 2010. Stay involved and have a Happy New Year everyone!


Subscribe Free
Add to my Page

Thanks to Noel Cabangon for the song "Natutong Umibig Muli" from the Christmas album Noel.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Inang

This is my late paternal grandmother Inang with my youngest brother VJ- he was probably 5 or 6 years old at the time Tatay took this photo. Tomorrow, the Veneracions return to Bukid in San Ildefonso, Bulacan where Inang used to preside over Christmas Day celebrations.

For Mom and Tatay, me and my brothers, this was the most special time of the year- more important even than Christmas Eve's Noche Buena. We would practice the mano- or place the back of the hands of our grandparents, uncles, and aunts on our foreheads as a sign of love and respect- and receive gifts of cash (and also wrapped gifts- shirts or toys) from each of our elders. Other children, too, would be brought by neighbors to the farmhouse to "bless" and receive their "pamasko" (gifts).

The kitchen at the back of the house was usually filled with women who helped Inang prepare the feast with ingredients coming straight from the yard. My grandfather Tatang and his fellow farmers gathered in front of the granary to cook lechon, a whole pig skewered with a bamboo pole and roasted until it turned red over charcoal. Tito Lore, a judge, and Tita Lydia usually arrived after lunch bringing candied mango, guava and jackfruit and- my favorite- pastillas de leche (a sweet concoction made from carabao's milk and granulated sugar) from Bulacan Sweets, followed by Tito Doc and Tita Violy who brought more Western fare, like sweet ham and pasta with white mushroom sauce, from Village Inn in Cabanatuan.

Inang was the sun around whom Tatang, their eight children and many grandchildren orbited. After cooking, she would change into her favorite baro't saya: a white, embroidered shirt with a black, panelled skirt sans the panuelo, making her look like Maria Clara. She often offered me a glass of carabao's milk, saying it was the drink she gave me as a mute infant to loosen my tongue and get me to talk. At night before leaving, beneath a parol made of colored Japanese paper or capiz shells, she would watch her grandchildren sing, dance, and play the piano, revelling in our constellation of talents.

When Tatang passed away, followed by Inang, it was as if a star had been plucked from the sky, dispersing the planets and moons around it. We felt the void caused by their passing. Eventually, my uncles and aunts found that, while it felt different, the gravity of their parents' love remained: our extended family has continued to return to Bukid every December 25th.

To all my friends and loved ones near and far, Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon sa ating lahat! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to us all!


Subscribe Free
Add to my Page

Thanks to San Miguel Master Chorale and Philharmonic Orchestra for the carol, "Mano Po Ninong, Mano Po Ninang."

Sunday, December 20, 2009

grown-up


Every Christmas, I receive a surprise gift from God (or the universe): last night's gift was a priceless one. I happened to be in UP Bahay ng Alumni and saw a banner announcing the reunion of my class in UP Integrated School (UPIS), so by accident I was reunited with friends, many of whom I had not seen since 5th grade.

From Kindergarten to Grade 5, I studied in UPIS, the school for basic education of the University of the Philippines. As a kid, I've often wondered what makes it "integrated," and today I found out after a bit of research that the school is the product of a merger of three schools: UP High School (established in 1916 in Isaac Peralta St., Manila, as the laboratory school of the College of Education); UP Preparatory School (a science-oriented school established in 1954); and UP Elementary School (established in 1936 for the education of children of university professors and personnel). A description of the school's philosophy and history is here.

It was a public school, though it felt exclusive since students from other schools were not allowed to enroll laterally after Kindergarten: you generally had the same friends year after year. I recall one exception, Kalayaan Vea, who was allowed to reenroll when her father returned to UP after a stint in the US (her Fil-Am boyfriend's name was Michael de Guzman, pronounced, "the goose-man"). The environment was competitive in a healthy way: teachers would post the list of the top 10 students and their grade point averages every quarter, and class pride peaked during spelling bees and intramural sports competitions. After class, we played a lot of agawan base, luksong tinik, and piko.

Since UPIS is in the heart of the State University, we were taught the values of love of others and country- the values of the Oblation- week after week from the very first day. Students took turns during Monday flag ceremonies in singing Lupang Hinirang and UP Naming Mahal and reciting Panatang Makabayan.

In a way, it was a predictable world where hard work and good deeds were rewarded- so different from the porous realities outside the academe! But what gifts our parents and teachers gave us: idealism to light our paths, knowledge to overcome challenges and seize opportunities, and a time of blissful peace that we can look back to all the days of our lives.

Here are some of UPIS' prominent alumni and what our school has taught them:

Sunday, December 13, 2009

new eyes

I guess I wanted something new in my life
A new key to fit a new door
To wake and see a different view in my life
The one I've been waiting for...

I sang this song while having late night drinks with some friends last Friday night. It was first sung by Stephen Bishop, and more recently by Sarah Geronomo for the movie "In My Life." I think it captures the image and mood of what many of us look for: in our daily strivings, in the arts we create and appreciate, in our relationships. It's what I try to give to everyone I meet, my clients, friends, and loved ones: the passion that makes us feel like our heart would burst, that keeps us young and alive.

I look for that "falling-in-love" feeling when I travel, when an experience sears my soul and makes a place and a people a part of me forever.

In Helsinki, I experienced it during the Night of the Arts, when the normally empty streets were suddenly filled with tens of thousands of Fins of all ages watching artists perform in 110 separate locations. It was a lot like Rock the Riles combined with People Power and gave me a glimpse of what the Philippines might be like someday, when people already have trust in government and in each other- when society has developed and become more egalitarian and can focus on the arts.

Anyway, Connor (from Ireland) and I got separated from our other friends. After Connor bought a six-pack of beer from a student- the shops had run out of beer- we decided to go to the Senate Square where a French street theater company used giant balloons shaped like fishes and sea snakes to turn the sky into a giant ocean aquarium.

There were so many people in the street leading to the square- for a long while, we just stood with the others, unable to move closer to watch the spectacle. We just heard the music: it sounded strange to my ears, very avant-garde, until Connor pointed out that they were sounds of the ocean. And indeed they were- with that anchor, the music suddenly "made sense."

Then my friend had an idea: we could watch the performance from the top of a tram waiting shed! That was something I had never done! Connor was the first to clamber up to the roof, and he held out a hand to help me get up there. The picture below shows our once-in-a-lifetime view of the Night of the Arts: People Power Finnish-style.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

the composer


Picture above by Portugal's Jaime Reis, a student of major 20th c. German composer Karlheinz Stockhausen who composed the award-winning Helicopter String Quartet. Jaime (his name is pronounced "zshaym") explains that, in the composition, four members of a string quartet perform in four helicopters taking independent flight paths in the countryside: their sounds are mixed together with those of the helicopters and transmitted with their videos to the concert hall!



Sunday, November 15, 2009

principles and politics


President Vaclav Havel of Czechozlovakia:

Please try to imagine the following, somewhat absurd situation:

A literary critic known for his merciless judgment and piercing look, capable of discovering any false tone in a novel or story, is suddenly confronted with the task of writing a novel. Everyone is waiting with curiosity, and even a certain amount of malicious joy, to see how he succeeds in meeting the high targets he himself had set before, not knowing that one day he would have to make the effort to satisfy them.

For years I used to criticize practical politics as a mere technology of vying for power and as a purely pragmatic activity whose objective is not to perform selfless service to citizens in accordance with one's conscience, but only to win their favor with a view to staying in power or gaining more of it.As an independent intellectual, I was continuously developing my concepts of politics as a selfless service to fellow human beings and as morality in practice, a high-principled politics which I tentatively termed "nonpolitical politics."

Fate has indeed played a strange joke on me, as if it were telling me that after having been so smart, I should now show all those whom I have criticized the right way to do it. No wonder my present position is hardly enviable: All my political activities, and maybe all the policies pursued by Czechoslovakia, are being examined under the microscope which I once built myself.

After a year and a half of the presidency in a country ridden with problems which presidents in stable democracies never dream of, I have not been compelled to retract anything. Not only have I not had to change my views, but I have even been confirmed in them.

Despite all the political misery I am confronted with every day, it still is my profound conviction that the very essence of politics is not dirty; dirt is brought in only by wicked people. I admit that this is an area of human activity where the temptation to advance through unfair actions may be stronger than elsewhere, and which thus makes higher demands on human integrity. But it is not true at all that a politician cannot do without lying or intriguing. That is sheer nonsense, often spread by those who want to discourage people from taking an interest in public affairs.

Of course, in politics, just as anywhere else in life, it is impossible, and it would not be sensible, always to say everything bluntly. Yet that does not mean one has to lie. What is needed here are tact, instinct and good taste. That, in fact, has been one of the things that surprised me most in the realm of high politics, where good taste is more important than all the education in political science.

All this is a matter of form: knowing how long I should speak, when to begin and when to finish; how to say something politely that the other party does not like to hear; how to pick out what is essential at the given moment and to refrain from talking about nonessential things that nobody is interested in listening to; how to remain steadfast in one's position without offending the other party; how to create a friendly atmosphere in order to facilitate demanding negotiations; how to keep the conversation going without imposing oneself on one's partner or creating in him the impression that he is being ignored; how to maintain a balance between the serious political subjects and the lighter, relaxing ones; knowing when and where to appear, and when and where to remain absent, and what measure of candor or restraint to choose.

It is also a matter of having a kind of instinct for the period, for the atmosphere that marks it, for the sentiments of the people, the nature of their troubles, and their mental disposition. That, too, is perhaps more important than various sociological surveys.

While education in political science, law, economics, history and culture is certainly invaluable for every politician, it is not, as I can see time and again, the most important thing. Much more important are establishing contact and maintaining a sense of measure; the ability to imagine oneself in one's partner's position and to address him, and the capability of perception and the quick assessment of problems and the condition of human souls.

I certainly do not mean to imply that I possess all these qualities. But when a man has his heart in the right place and good taste, he can not only do well in politics but is even predetermined for it. If someone is modest and does not yearn for power, he is certainly not ill-equipped to engage in politics; on the contrary, he belongs there. What is needed in politics is not the ability to lie but rather the sensibility to know when, where, how and to whom to say things.

It is not true that people of high principle are ill-suited for politics. The high principles have only to be accompanied by patience, consideration, a sense of measure and understanding for others. It is not true that only coldhearted, cynical, arrogant, haughty or brawling persons can succeed in politics. Such people are naturally attracted by politics. In the end, however, politeness and good manners weigh more.




Requiem - Lacrymosa - Mozart

Monday, November 2, 2009

fifth dimension

The soul of beings is their scent. -Patrick Süskind


Perfume - Movie Trailer - Click here for this week’s top video clips


One of my most memorable readings in high school Psychology class was about pheromones, the chemicals we exude that attracts people to us. I remembered the lesson recently when I saw the VCD of "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" (bought from SM), adapted from the book with the same title by German writer
Patrick Süskind.

The story, set in 18th century France, is about an orphan Jean-Baptiste Grenouille who has no odor, making him invisible to those around him. Yet he is gifted with a sense of smell so acute that it is his primary way of perceiving the world.

By covering either our ears or our eyes, we are able to imagine how it is to use sight without hearing, or hearing without sight. But to experience the world only through our nose, what would that be like?

Perhaps because of a spartan upbringing- Tatay admonished me and my brothers while growing up to take no longer than five minutes in taking a bath and to comb our hair without using a mirror, "just like in the military"- I don't think much of perfumes. Except that in my teens, I was given a bottle of musk cologne which I used on dates and special occasions.

The fourth or fifth dimension of scent that I have today was composed mainly by two people- a woman and a man- and of course me.

Tricia, my BFF in high school, was like a female Grenouille (though less deadly): she could differentiate the odor of her different suitors. She also had a brother Gari- a veritable metrosexual before the word was invented- who had a collection of men's perfumes in their room. One time, Trish decided to experiment and try the different scents on me- around a dozen kinds- to see which one would blend best with the chemicals on my skin and complement my personality. I was of course a willing subject. (Gari, I'm sorry- yes we did this!)

The one scent which made Trish exclaim, "This is it! This is it!" was one of the first purchases I made after graduation when I was already working. Here is Trish smelling our food during a memorable lunch in Pebble Beach, California.


In law school, I was also gifted with a scent one Christmas by my classmate Deo- this was for our gift exchange (or Secret Santa). I never thought a man could use it, but it has become my "no-scent scent"- while wearing it, a fellow writer thought I smelled "clean, like soap." The bouquet is transformed and becomes more complex when I'm in love. I discovered from my parfumeur that this is also the favorite scent of actor Richard Gomez.

Here is Deo with the fraternity he headed and their frat sweetheart Maida (now Deo's wife).

Recently, while hiking in the northern forests of Solvalla, I found something fragrant that I took back with me to Manila- I've added this extra note to my scent-dimension, to share a bit of my love of adventure and make the experience even more personal for those interacting with me.