THE ART OF MEDITATION

One of my favorite writers, Jack Miles, in introducing The Best American Spiritual Writing (2004), states two distinctive ways to meditate.

The 1st exercise was learned while being a Jesuit seminarian - and was supposedly the 6th step in the Ignatian school of spirituality. The method was to think about doing anything (but not praying) while in the presence of God.

The 2nd, learned after he left the order and the church and while in the thick of learning Buddhism, was the practice known as "the slaying of the mind", with the mind being pictured as a hyperactive monkey hopping from branch to branch. In this exercise, the one meditating will not be like Jesus in the Gethsemane (1st method) but somebody attempting to kill the monkey.

According to Miles, both exercises were experientially real.

I will have to try these.

THERE ARE THREE REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD READ my BLOG

Unfortunately, I don't know what they are.

If life were my body part, it had to be my hair.

My hair is always in shambles.

When I'm hungry, my stomach crumbles.

I woke up this morning finding I had no cereals. I went to Church with an empty stomach, and while passing the collection box (I'm an usher, remember?) I prayed for my tummy to shut up.

I had long wanted to record the sound of my empty tummy. It is funnier than the sound of grinding teeth my brother makes when asleep.

When we were growing up my brother and I shared one bed. Everytime he ground his teeth, which drove me nuts, I hushed him, and he would stop. Seniority rules, even for the unconscious.

Let us wonder. If an empty brain makes a crumbling sound, will Congress be a House of noise?

I have so many books. I have so many unread books. I just found out today I have "Under the Volcano" by Malcolm Lowry, and my brother-in-law just gave me a hardbound copy of The Lincoln Lawyer. One of these is destined towards the path of the ignored.

Trivia. Did you know that the working title of Gone With The Wind is Ba! Ba! Black Sheep? Ugly title, that.

Even if I have so many unread books, I still go to Barnes and Noble to pick up a book. With coffee after today's lunch, I read Nick Hornby's The Polysyllabic Spree in one sitting. The irony is this: I finished the book fast because I was able to relate to it. Hornby was enumerating the books he bought, and read, from September 2003 onward to 2004, and he was just reading an average percentage of the hoard, a good number of which was read unfished. That was me. I mean, not Hornby without the b; it's just that I, too, have the habit of being fickle when it comes to reading.

It does not mean I have been unfaithful to my books. I love them. I just happen to love one more than the other, though not as much as another.

Hornby bought Robert Lowell's Collected Poems and Joseph Heller's Something Happened in September 2003, but had not read them through 2004. Hellow, Heller! I bought your Catch-22 but did not read it either (I saw the film), for which my Mom could not believe me. (Another trivia: Catch-22's original working title was Catch-18.)

Have you been to Schadenfreude's blog (the link appearing on the left)? He had his links in anagrams, some of which do not make sense, though not a bit surprising, har! Here's more to anagrams, cheers!, courtesy of The Literary Companion, Emma Jones, editor: Name these 3 famous authors, TOILETS, NO LEGAL PARADE, MY NOBLE RITE.

Ms. Jones belies the theory that there were only three stories ever written, and everything is a derivative or combination of these: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, man hunts whale. Actually, I wanted to find the weirdest combination. What about whale meets girl, girl gets pregnant because it turns out to be a sperm whale, boy hunts whale in fit of anger and jealousy, boy seeks help of Japanese sushi chefs, whale seeks help of animal activists, cbs seeks help from anybody as he is trapped in a corner...

MIND READING CHUVA

Think of a color that begins with "G"...

then

Think of an animal that begins with "E"...

then

Think of a country that begins with "D".

toink,

sorry,

There is no such thing as

Green Elephant in Denmark.

SARI-SARING KAPINUYAN

Ikalawang araw ko pa lang siguro sa Amerika, naglalakad ako papuntang tindahan nang may makasalubong akong mama, binati ako, Kumusta, sabi ko naman, Mabuti, ikaw? Que? tanong nyang nakataas ang kilay.

Quetae, 'Como Estas?' pala ang tanong nung mamaw, Cubano siguro akala ko Pinoy.

Which brings me to say, pinakauna kong napansin dito ay ang kaugaliang magbatian ang mga nagkakasalubong. Mapa-matanda o bata ang makasalubong mo, sa park, sa hallway ng condo, babatiin ka, Hi, Hello, How you doin', parang second skin yung batiin ang kasalubong kahit, for all intents and purposes, e di naman sila talaga interesado sa yo. Pero syempre, sa ibang lugar gaya ng madidilim na lugar sa Bronx, pag may bumati sa yo, malamang ang bati e, Hi, can I have your wallet? Sagutin mo kaya, Did you say please?

Yung kaklase ko sa college na si Boy, nung high-school e pinadala sya dito sa States under the YFU (Youth for Understading) program. Kumakain sila ng dinner ng kanyang foster family, tas sabi nung foster mother nya, Here, Boy, have some more asparagus. Ang tarantadong si Boy e busog na, sabi ba naman daw, Thanks, I'm already fed up. Nasakyan naman sya ng kanyang foster nanay, Uh, you mean you're done. Sagot ni Boy, no I'm not Dan, I'm Boy.

Yun namang asawa ng pinsan ko, kumain sa isang fancy restaurant pa mandin, tanong muna ng waiter, You want super salad?

Of course I want it, sagot nya.

I'm asking, super salad? paimbyerna ng waiter.

And I'm answering, yes, I want it, asar na sabi ni Pinsan.

Please, sir, super salad?, nawawalan na si waiter ng pasensya.

Darn, I said I want your super salad!, pagalit na sagot ni Pinsan.

(Later, nagkabukuhan na, ang tanong talaga sa kanya ng nabuwang na waiter e kung ano gusto nya for starters, soup or salad.)

Kaaliw talaga pag bago ka sa isang lugar, di mo pa kilatis yung accent ng locals, o kaya yung nuances. Nung nanood kami ni bunsoy dito ng pelikulang Fargo (isa sa mga pinakaunang napanood namin), may eksena na sabi ni Frances McDormand (as the town's Chief of Police) habang tinitingnan yung nakalupasay na bangkay sa kalye, This must be done by somebody from Minnesota. Tawanan yung mga tao, kami naman ni utol, Ngee, ano kaya nakakatawa dun?

Of course we just didn't get it. Later nalaan ko slamming lang pala yun, gaya din sa Pinas, 'Ang sabi nila Bisaya daw ako wala naman silang ibidinsya', o isang klasikong pang-aalaska sa ibang (o taga-ibang) lugar.

Pero napansin ko lang andami sa mga Pinoy bloggers sa Amerika e
tipong asiwa sa kapwa Pinoy. Meron ngang isang blogger na nag-comment sa isang popular blog, sabi nya, Haynako naaalibadbaran ako sa mga Pilipino dito kaya ang ginawa ko eklavu e bumili ako acheng ng bahay sa isang all-white community, matuk mo ne! Gusto ko sanang magcomment to comment, Bos Kupal, kung merong isa pang Pilipino dyan na kaparis mong mag-isip, I bet di sya bibili ng bahay sa neighborhood mo kasi di na sha all-white community ngayun.

Totoo nga na merong crab mentality, pero present (but not definitely prevalent) naman siguro yun sa lahat ng race. O kaya, isipin mo, hindi kaya yung kagaya ni Bos Kupal na mismo ang me crab mentality kaya tipong asiwa sya sa kapwa Pinoy.

Buti na lang si R, UP grad na nag-masters sa tres tres hip Sorbonne e di na-crab mentalize nung nag-organize ng fund raising dito para ipadala sa nabiktima ng baha sa Pinas. Bagong dating lang sya dito from France, ala pang trabaho, biruin mo nagpa-concert sya, isang Pilipinang soprano, Pilipinong pianist at violinist, aba e dagsa ang Pinoy y Pinay, laking gulat nga ke R, mantak mo inuna pa yung kapwa Pinoy sa Pinas kesa sa sarili nyang unemployed. Pero kung binentahan nya ng tiket si Boss Kupal, sasabihin siguro nito, Hoy, hoy, hoy, plis, pwede bang umalis-alis ka sa aking all-white community!

May isang Palanca awardee from UST, respetadong writer dati ng Varsitarian na si Mario Eric Gamalinda (colleague ni Juaniyo Arcellana sa Jingle Mag) ang lit prof sa NYU ngayon. Napasama yung isang kwento nya sa isang anthology about New York.

Bigat mo Noyps.

Sa Winter/Spring 2005 issue ng Crab Orchard Review (Lit Journal ng Southern Illinois University sa Carbondale) may isang short story din, ang pamagat e 'Mag Mano Ka', sinulat ng isang Jhoana S. Aberia na obviously e Pinay.

Galing mo Nayps.

Basta ba wag lang aapak ang baka me taeng sapatos natin sa all-white community ni Boss Kupal.

5 BOOKS

People who don't know me don't give me anything, and people who know me don't give me books. Generally speaking. There is a method to my friends' discretion and in this case, it is grounded on two reasons. First, they're afraid I may have already read the book, and second, they're afraid I will never read the book.

True, a gift of book smacks of authority. It is like mandating somebody to spend some precious time for something you have somehow prepared for them. Reading, after all, could be a painful experience to some, and under certain conditions, to most. I remember a time when a co-worker gave me Left Behind, the first of many in this Left Behind series, and everytime we met she would ask, Did you finish? Did you like it? Isn't it great? and each time I would cringe and ask the gods of white lies to find me a reply that did not hurt feelings.

Left Behind was awful but of course I did not tell her that. I just said it was OK but at the back of my mind I just wished she had given me a terrible t-shirt instead - because there is no pain in wearing a terrible t-shirt when you go to bed at night. But for a book that found a market in all religious suckers in the world, with zero literary value, going through it as simply going through the motions of living is a harrowing way to live, an experience that should never be repeated.

I, too, had been dictatorial in many instances whenever I gave books. But there was a twist to my dictates. Everytime I intended to give a book to a friend, I tried to find him/her first in that book. I research. I calculate.

But then, times change, things evolve.

In the last holiday season I got 5 books from 5 people who disengaged from my universal rule - with some very pleasant surprises.

The 1st book was "from" my counselor. She gave me a $25.00 Borders gift card with a note to buy a book I long for, and whatever it is I chose will be regarded as her choice. The counselor is a great person with a strong sense of discretion and generosity. At first I thought, Maybe I should buy something she reads, like Steinbeck's or Saroyan's, until I realized the ploy won't work and the matter will be unfair for both of us. When I was at Borders looking at the shelf where the 2 S authors share billing, I felt like I was Angela Solis looking at a box full of ampalaya: while I know fully well those were good for my mind and body, somehow, for some reasons, they just did not appeal to me.

And so I looked around and from the corner of my eye found this one book which was mentioned in the other book I was reading. The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil was that discovery, and this book is packed with so much power it bore a gaping hole in my otherwise busy schedule.

The 2nd book was given by Alice, a co-worker from my department. The book is small, smaller than my palm, and if I have to put both hands together as if in prayer while the book is sandwiched inside, the only one who will know its presence is he who I pray to. The little book is called The Best Things in Life Start With C, a collection of quotes that begin with the letter C, and when I gave Alice my thanks, mostly for the flattery, she said rather seriously, Don't mention it C, I gave that to you because you are the best. I would have been flattered even more, but was not because when I passed by (another co-worker) Mary-ann's desk, I saw a similar book perched atop her computer like a little figurine, and the cover reads - The Best Things in Life Start With M.

The 3rd book, given by my associate, is something I cannot name. It is the story of a wealthy Jewish Ivy Leaguer who was enjoying the spoils of youth, fortune and a great job when, one day, he killed a man. He spent time in prison and a great part of the book, told in vivid, colorful details, is about his life as an inmate.

The author of the autobiographical book - now in his middle age but still very intelligent and witty - is my colleague in the company. As far as I can tell, only three other people in the office know his story: the CEO who hired him, my associate who happens to be the CEO's niece, and because of this gift, myself.

Shhh, I hear some steps...

The 4th book was from a very respectable Filipino-American immunologist from the South who, very smartly, wrote his memoirs in the form of an anthology of short stories. Telling about his parents' life during the Spanish era, and his children's in this contemporary period, in the form of short stories, is something I truly enjoyed reading. Of course my copy was autographed.

Last but definitely not the least, the 5th book was authored by a blogger whose link appears on the left side of the screen, Tekstong Bopis (sent by my friend Belleloved) entitled A Shift of Eyes and Nine Other Stories, and it is not just a book but a cd as well, for electronic interpretation on pc and dvd.

The author, blogger par excellence and UP Lit Professor Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo, handwrote on the first page:

Kay CBS,

Salamat sa pag-udyok.
Sana may magustuhan
ka rito, kahit isa man
lamang. salamat sa
patuloy na suporta.

may isa rito,
mula sa blog!

- dennis a.

There you go.

The 5 people I met in my literary heaven.

RESOLUSYON con EKSPOSISYON 2006

Para sa taong 2006, ang resolusyon ko ay ang hindi magresolusyon. 'Di naman ako talaga nakikiloko dyan kaso wala lang akong masabi. Mas mainam na yan kesa umpisahan ko 'tong blog ng Nadidighay ako. Gok. Braak.

Sabi ni Carlos Fuentes, 'di na raw kailangan pa ng isang manunulat sa Inggles. The English language did not need another writer, aniya; It has always been alive and kicking and if ever it becomes drowsy, there will always be an Irishman.

Ang gara. Ang gara, for president. Biro lang, seryosohin daw ba.

Ayan tuloy, parang ayoko nang sumulat sa Inggles. Sinabi siguro ni Fuentes yun matapos basahin ang isang entry ko sa Inggles.


Nagpunta akong Pennsylvania nung isang araw dahil binisita ko ang farm ng tita ko. Nagsasaka dun ang tito ko, kaso dahil winter at walang pananim, nagsusuka na lang sya at panay ang inom. Loko tong tito ko na magsesetenta anyos na. Dun sa barn nya, di nya pinapupunta dun yung tita ko. Tas nung andun ako, e di inanyayahan nya akong mag-inom sa barn. Wahaw, parang yung mga sinaunang barber shop sa Pilipinas ang dating, nag-time travel tuloy ako. Puro kalendaryo ng mga nakaborles na babae ang nasa dingding. Yun tipong The Girls From Silicone Valley. (Oist mga bruha, balita ko di nadedecompose ang mga yan, 100 years after your gory deaths, mahuhukay kayo ng mga archeology students tas sasabihin nung isa, Ma'am look, a skeleton with dudu!)

Nung baby ako kinakanta ng tatay ko sa akin pampatulog ay Divina Valencia, Stella Suarez, nagboborles!

Jusme, panahon pa yata ng Hukbalahap yang kanta na yan.

Kinabukasan pagdating ko dun, punta kaming Philadelphia na nasa Easter Penn, malapit sa New Jersey (di pa ako dati nakarating dun kasi malimit lang ako sa Pittsburgh, Western Penn yun na bordering Ohio), tapos dadaan kami ng Longwood Gardens. Kaya ako nagpilit sa Philly kasi sabi ko sa mga gurangis na kasama ko gusto kong makita ang Philadelphia Museum of Art. Sabi-sabi kasi na panapat daw yun sa Metropolitan Museum of Art (MET) sa 5th Avenue, kaya sagot ko, Owss? Malaan.

Kung napanood ninyo ang Rocky, may eksena dun na nagte-training si Stallone, as Rocky Balboa, along the streets of Philly at para syang human magnet at nagsunuran ang mga bata (balita ko e madaming pedophile ang nag-aral magboksing nung panahon na yun). Pagdating sa isang mataas na building na parang Parthenon at may mahahabang baitang na tulad ng sa Central Post Office sa Liwasan, tinakbo paakyat ni Rocky tsaka ng mga bata ang mga baitang at pagdating sa pinaka-taas ay nagtatalon sila dun habang taas ang mga kamay ni Rocky at nakatutok ang paningin sa famous Philadelphia skyline.

Yung building na yun ang Philadelphia Museum of Art, at ang eksenang tumatalon-talon sila, taas ang kamay ni Kee-rocks, ay isa sa kontribusyon ng Hollywood sa fabric of Americana. Ayun tuloy, kapag tumingala ka, andaming tao sa tuktok ng flight of stairs ang nagtatalon-talon at nagtataas-taas kamay na parang mga tirik na kangkong habang nagpipiktyuran sila as if there is no tomorrow.

Nagmakaawa ang mga gurangis na kasama ko na kung pwede daw ba na gawin ko na lang isang oras ang pagbisita sa museum. Sabi ko, Naman, naman, baka sa pag-akyat pa lang sa mga baitang na yan e abutin na ako ng kinse minutos, tas pagdating sa taas umatake ang aking bronchitis. May idea ako, sabi ng tita kong punong-puno lagi ng ideas. Umakyat ka na lang sa pinakataas na step, talon ka dun, taas mo mga kamay mong para ka talagang champion, tas kukunan kita ng litrato.

Yung talaga ang mga salita nya, although syempre, hindi nya sinabi
ang "tas". May Penn accent kasi sya. Ang pagkakasabi talaga niya e "taz".

Yun na nga. Ang Philly Museum of Art experience ko e ang pagpi-feeling Rocky. Nga lang, sabi siguro nung mga European tourists na pinanonood ang mga kumag doon na tumatalong parang Mexican jumping beans, nung ako na ang nasa sentro eh, Oh, look, that's Apollo Creed!

Punta na lang tayong Freedom Hall, tingnan mo yung Liberty Bell, sabi ni Tita. Tas binanggit nya kung totoo bang may ginagawa uling Rocky sequel. Sabi ko, balita meron nga. Paano daw ba yun e di ba matanda na si Stallone. Sabi ko na lang, ang title yata po Tita e Rocky VI: Rocky on a Rocking Chair.

E di yun. Totoo nga na me crack yung kampana. Let freedom ring, sabi da.

Tas deretso na kami sa Longwood Gardens, kaso lang naligaw muna kami. Aru, napadpad kaming Delaware. Tanong ng tito ko, C, tanda mo ba yung dinaanan natin?

Mali ng napagtanungan. Ako pa tinanong e sa lahat ng issues sa buhay, ang tungkol sa direksyon ang di ako nagkaroon ng interes. Sa dating opisina nga namin nun, 3 taon na akong nagtatrabaho tas isang ruta lang ang ginagamit ko papunta't pauwi, tas isang araw na papasok ako, malapit na ako sa opisina (mga 10 miles ang layo sa apartment) nang mapansin kong me detour, patay, sabi ko windshield ng kotse. Nagpaikot-ikot ako, tas maya-maya sabi ko, teka, nyeta, kilala ko tong lugar na to, diyata't, dito ako nakatira. Sa kaiikot ko, ang binagsakan ko pala e ang apartment ko.

Teka lang, san na ba tayo?

Ah, sa freedom.

Parang sa pagsusulat, mas me freedom sa Tagalog.

He-he. Freedom daw, freedom ring daw. Parang wedding ring, tawag ba dun e freedom ring. Hek-hek-hek, sabi nung isang babaeng blogger. Ngyawww.

O e di sige, sa Tagalog na lang para di na nagngangawa itong si Mang Caloy.

I therefore resolve, as Fuentes wished, to stop writhing in English.

Nakupoo, aray, ansakit!