Stumbling Through Multiple Brain Farts

The first day of the long weekend found me plastered on my bed up until noon.  My sister asked, "Did you pull an all-nighter?"

I was definitely up all night --- until first light peeked through the horizon, actually.  But, although the the spirit was more than willing, the body (the mind, specifically) just wasn't.  I wanted to download some of the swirling thoughts that had been waiting to transform into coherent ideas.  But the hours ticked by as I stared blankly at the monitor, struggling with one brain fart after another.  Or, perhaps, it's not brain fart in its strictest sense. My brain was just so full of ideas that I couldn't ride through a train of thought long enough to finish.

It wasn't writer's block.  It was mental constipation!

Frustrated, I took several deep breaths and looked around me.  My room was as cluttered as my brain. A few more deep breaths, and  I shutdown my laptop with a single thought (for a change):  "Clear out the rubbish!"

God sends the perfect aid at just the right time.

This time it came in the wonderful form of a very random no-occasion gift from one of my girlfriends (God bless her!):  a compact manual paper shredder.

This magical shredder gave me the courage to finally work on  the piles of paper that I had been putting off to sort through.  My excuse:  "There are confidential stuff I will need to shred and I don't have a shredder."  Well ... TADA!

After clearing off a mountain of paper (there's another smaller mound of it I have to face some time soon), I got to sort through some clothes and bags as well.  I finished with a box and 3 big garbage bags of paper, clothes and bags for recycling and garage sale/donation.

Amidst all these, a twin soul reminded me, "If you want to find peace, fix your things." I couldn't agree more.  Reasonably uncluttered, my brain unclogged and I conquered some brain farts, which translated into a few rough-on-the-edges-but-tolerably-acceptable literary works.

Glorious release, finally!

Happy Meetings: Quirky Oldies

Couple Goals

During my last business trip to the US, my friend and I grabbed the opportunity to visit the Grand Canyon. It was in that tour that we encountered two pairs of quirky and extremely opposite couples.

The first pair was an old Vietnamese couple who reminded us of Carl and Ellie from the movie "Up".  They looked every bit prepared to go on this trip, dressed in comfortable clothes with matching safari hats.  They each carried an iPhone and iPad and were looking really tech savvy, typing away on their gadgets all the time.  It warmed our hearts how they were so thoughtful and caring to each other.  They allowed the other some time to enjoy the sights at their own pace, lost in their own bubble, yet always aware of the rest of the group.  That is how they noticed me and my friend and decided to adopt us as their grandchildren for the trip.  We were more than happy to oblige.  They barely spoke a word of English, though.  But we enjoyed spending time with them, nonetheless.

The second couple was an old American and his Chinese wife.  This couple seemed the total opposite of the quiet and gentle Vietnamese couple.  At first, they seemed like grumpy old people with their brows perpetually furrowed and arguing about every single thing.  But then she "pestered" the driver to find her husband a better seat because he had a bad back and the long drive was becoming a torture for him.  And he carefully stood up, while the bus was moving, to walk towards the back of the bus to give her the other half of his sandwich ... because she might be hungry.

Different folks, different strokes.  I guess, whatever works for them. Just goes to show there's no one "fits all" formula to a long-lasting marriage.  But there is one vital ingredient:  Love - the verb, not the noun.  Most of what they did was an act of love for the other.  Or, perhaps, everything they did for the other was done in their own unique brand of "lovingly".  Either way, they are our couple goals.


Coolly Lit

During my flight to the US, I had the pleasure of sitting beside a really cool old lady.  She was a retired Literature teacher.  A Literature teacher! We had an amazing time talking about various topics, including our favorite literature pieces.  It was no surprise that we were both Jane Austen fans, and we talked about the characters we relate most with like two old high-school friends.  We then progressed to Robin Williams' "Dead Poets Society".  Then I told her about Neil Gaiman's "Instructions" and Haruki Murakami's surreal but accessible style.  Suffice it to say that I had one of my most stimulating conversations during a long-haul flight.

I realized, working on your passions and talking about them is one of the most underrated "secrets" of eternal youth. The minute she started talking about Literature, she lit up and looked easily 10 years younger.

Poetic Doses: Pinto Series

Peek-a-boo

Mornings used to open

A flutter of nervous excitement;

She used to watch

And wait;

But they all passed her by

Barely a glance;

Once or twice

Someone stopped;

But only for a heartbeat

Never a lifetime;

She stood against the white

Hands over her face;

She grew paler

More invisible by the day;

Then

There he was;

She counted

One, two, three ... ;

She breathed

Peered through her fingers:

"What are you doing?"

He said;

"Watching you 

watching me";

He smiled

So did she.

(Art:  Borlongan)

(Art:  Stephanie Lopez)

Oblivious

(When I first saw this sculpture, I thought it was the man who was oblivious.  But, as I looked closer at the detail, I noticed that the man's hand was upon his open chest - which was difficult to capture due to the glare.)

She walks as though willing herself to be invisible;

And yet she carries the sun in her smile.

(My heart is heavy;

How could this be, when this is happy news?)

Her touch soothes and her voice calms;

Nothing can faze me, when she is by my side.

(There he is; My heart lifts 

and crumbles in a single moment)

Nothing, until ...

She waves proudly the diamond upon her finger.

(Life waits for no one;

So stop waiting)

She carries the sun in her smile;

Her touch soothes and her voice calms;

And I

I never told her

(Steady now, my unsettled nerves;

Love, afterall, is letting go)

I breathe her in, one last time; Holding on to her, 

I smile, as my world falls apart.

(Yet I melt into his oblivious embrace;

Just one more moment; for one last time).

(Art:  Mark Justiniani)

Some people just feel like home;

Those people with whom

Time & Distance are of no consequence.

Whole, yet caged;

Or disintegrating, but free?

Sometimes

To be truly whole

Is to fade into everything.

(Steel art from Pinto Art Museum)

(Art from Pinto Art Museum)

Tell The Children

Tell the children of clear blue skies;

of cloud art, sometimes wispy, sometimes cottony;

Tell the children of  playful rain,

and the joy of dancing in it with friends;

Tell the children of  the grand mountains,

their quiet and steadfast strength;

Tell the children of the army of trees,

and their fight to keep us breathing;

Tell the children of the temperamental seas,

that, nevertheless, give so generously;

And tell the children of Noah's animals,

big or small, gentle or fearsome, all part of the circle of life.

But, most of all,

Tell the children of Men;

of their capacity 

to give and take,

to build and destroy,

to love, to hate or be indifferent.

Tell the children who they are:

The heirs of this world;

Tell them of their power

and the urgency

to protect their only heritage

NOW.