To draw the sky

How do we know what we don't know? How do we know what we can't see? What is that space between leaves, the shape of shadows, the space in between in between? How between sounds like the Tagalog word "bituin" or star. And like the stars, the space in between is vast and unknowing, yet shines in the night sky to let us know it is there.

Bringing it back online

I was offline for quite some time. The offline real life has a way of doing that. Most of my day to day online interaction happens on facebook nowadays. But things have happened that have made me consider going back to blogging.

I'm on a new journey.

It's a bit of a lonely journey in that it's time to put the pieces together. Hopefully an incredible journey of uncovery, exploration, imagination, and if all goes well, in the end mastery, though there's no guarantee.

Previously, I blogged about random anything. But I think now, I will focus this writing around the journey.

I recently posted to my cousin's blog where he was discussing media and communication. I said, "blogging is just about as close to being archaic on the internet as email." Blogging has become "old-school".

But there's a benefit to "old school" and in this case there is the luxury of longer sentences, stream of consciousness that go beyond 140 characters, which I believe leads to longer meditations on ideas versus sound bytes and attention deficit quality of other communications. And that's what I need. I need to meditate.

the quiet life

I haven't posted here much at all though I've wanted to post reactions on the various personal and/or global experiences over the past couple of months...but then I haven't.

And while I continue my avid presence on facebook, even there, my public life has come down to chit-chat snippets.

I see all the links to community events and think briefly about going, but then don't.  Sometimes there are truly other things that get in the way, others, I get the feeling of, "that's not where I need to be."  

I've listened closely to that "need to be voice" as it's served me well.  

And I know as I add people to my facebook list of people I met in various community events and organizations, they must wonder, while I also wonder, "I haven't seen in a long time."

I told someone several months ago that I found myself in an "observation" phase.  I still find myself there.  Quietly taking care of things that I could not take care of when taking care of the community.  

Someone asked if I was going to participate in this event next year and my reply was, "I have not yet decided how I plan to participate."  I think my choice of words are important.  I don't attend things just to attend them so much anymore.  I haven't been that interested in attending Filipino events much either.  Because the question is, how am I engaging and participating and not much simply attending.  All I know is that this is not the direction.

I'm not sure if there is any direction right now and perhaps my direction that I need to delve is not horizontal but vertical.  That perhaps my direction is the depth of the plain.  

I don't think this quiet life will last forever.  I do envision a time when I will return to "saying" something either here or artistically or even socially.  But that time is not now.

It's real, not practice

Sometimes people wonder when we actually get to practice the moves we learn in kali in real life.  It's not always apparent.  But it is there.

It has been interesting these last few weeks that I find the lessons of kali reverberate not just in what I'm teaching in class but in every day life.  There are some choices I've made to put me in a certain direction, there are others soon to be made that will test my "eye" for quality.  And the consequences for these decisions are very real, they both impact my life and others.

I have to take into account not just the present day but the future and I have to predict the next few years the same way I set up and predict the direction of my opponents.  I have to understand the wave that I create from this choice.

I have come to understand the choices or more often than not the non-choices people have made before me.  To not act, to not choose, is a choice that more often than not postpones the inevitable to the future, which in this case is my present.  The choice doesn't go away, it just makes whoever gets the choice down the line even harder.  One of the difficulties of the budget situation is that people want to choose not to choose, to hope someone else will bail them out or grant them forgiveness.  Neither is around in any abundance.  But what it does is that because individuals at the bottom cannot make the hard decisions, that decision moves up the chain and the farther and farther you are, the larger the blade you need to make a slice.

There is only so much one can do to avoid being cut, but no doubt one will get cut.  How deep of a wound do you wish to suffer?

This is where my training and I mean all of my training from the kali to the leadership development to even 6th grade crossing guard captain has brought me to.  

I know that change is painful.  Mostly because people do not change until it hurts.  It being whatever it is they're in now.  The other incentive of course is pleasure.  They change because the thing they are going to is more pleasurable.  But pleasure is difficult to measure once someone is acclimated to the pain of their present state.

I know from kali a delay in decision making, a delay in acting determines how deep is the wound.  

I regret I was unable to made these choices earlier and yet I did not fully have the tools to do it. But regret has no place here. The proper choice is both about its decision and its timing.  And I have to believe that when I make the decision, when I act will be the proper time for everything to happen.

I imagine in the Year of the Ox, an Ox plowing the rows in a field.  I hope that if I keep plowing that by the end of this year I will have a nicely sown field that will give me great harvests in the future.  I can only hope.

watching a lifetime

It was rather appropriate watching "Up" tonight, the latest Pixar movie.  There's an opening sequence that fast forwards through the main character's life with his wife.  It is a sequence that is succinct and effortless that shows a man who once experienced joys and adventure and even now alone attempts to continue on this journey together.

I had spent most of the day at the funeral for Uncle Cef.  He was 81.  He and his wife were one of numerous families part of the Barkada.  Many of them lived in Oakland, and many of them were nurses.  They raised their children together and many of their children's children consider each other cousins even though there are no blood ties.  For many years, I thought us and the Barkada were the only Filipinos in Oakland.

When my parents arrived in the US in 1970, they were met at the airport by my dad's uncle, the first cousin to his father.  When they arrived, they stayed at his house, and for a time next door at Uncle Philip's.  They were adopted by this Barkada.  My sister's first babysitters were these women.   Auntie Esther, a nurse at Kaiser, had been there the day each of us were born to welcome us into the world.  My sister and I called most of them auntie and uncle.  Their children, about 6-7 years older than us, were our cousins, though technically they would have been 2nd cousins once removed.  In a time, when my parents had left their parents and complete social structure in the Philippines, the Lomuljos, the Monteclaros, the Prados, were the family parties we attended on a regular basis.  The graduations, the weddings, the baptisms and now funerals.  Mostly funerals now.

With my parents out of town, and my sister pregnant, I was left as the lone representative of our family to pay our respects for Uncle Cef.  The "old" family as I called them.  It's been some time since we last saw them.  Uncle Cef and Auntie Esther had come to our wedding 3 years ago.  We had seen him and his family all together for their 50th wedding anniversary 2 years ago. 

Yesterday and today, we listened as family, friends and their grandchildren, memorialized him: his humor, his strength, his helpfulness.  The priest had gathered the family at the casket for the final prayers.  I flashed back to their wedding anniversary, as the same priest had the family gather around them then too.  A moment of great joy juxtaposed with great sadness in my mind.

I re-acquainted myself with the aunties and their children, who of course all knew me way back when.  I learned the names of their children and their spouses.  Their children's children seemed confused by all the strangers that knew their family.  Where did these people come from?  How did they know their family?  Even though, I could say to many of them, I remember when your parents were married, and when you were born.  I remember.  I know.

I came to discover other people I had known from other circles, connecting again here.  A fellow from work, a student from kali class.  They were friends of the grandchildren, the newer family.  The grandchildren were strangers to me.  I was connected to the earlier years, their grandparents, their parents before we had all moved on with our lives.  The circles that repeat and reconnect were palpable.  

I had brief conversations about where I am now.  It was just a sight to recognize faces and remember when we were all a bit younger.  That seemed like enough, to see that we were still here.  To remember a time when life wasn't complicated.  

When I left the reception and greeted Auntie Esther, she seemed smaller than ever, impish now, but still always with the loving sparkle in her eye.  "I remember" she tells me, "I know you.  I know you when you were a baby and your sister too.  And now all of you so grown up. I remember. I know. Thank you for representing your family.  Regards to your parents."

I looked around the room with a mixture of sadness, joy, and gratitude.  Those who I had known and who had known me were now passing.  I would no longer know their grandchildren as those lines grew thin.  Yet, I was grateful to them for what they had given my family, for us.  How they had opened their doors, their guidance, to a young couple separated from what they had known to provide the example how the values of family, community and barkada played themselves out on this American plateau. 

I don't know much about the aunties and uncles of the barkada.  I was too young to learn their last names, or know about where they originated in the Philippines nor how they came here.  I only know of the family parties in orchid and rose filled backyards and how I had to mano po a line of elders in the dining room.  I am anak ni Rebecca at Narcing.  The second daughter.  How tall I had become from the baby they had once held in their arms. 

The cycle of this "family" is coming to a close as the memory of our connections disappear with the Barkada generation.  The elder children in each family will complete for their parents the last of the obligations and tributes to the other families when their parents pass and this will close the circle.  This is the way of things.  We have already gone on to form our own barkadas and families that are still growing.  Those too will come to this moment of goodbye.

"Up" seemed to reflect this day.  What memories do we take with us?  What do we hold on to?  How do we continue on?  How did that life teach us how to live this one?  

Thank you Uncle Cef for what you brought to this world. Goodbye.

fyi

thank you to everyone who emailed about the post I pulled.  Your well wishes and prayers are well received.  As an FYI, he's out of ICU and into rehab.  Alot of work ahead of him, but he's inspired with the reward of "real food".

pulled one

i pulled a recent posting mostly because I didn't want to be as public as I ended up being.  But thank you everyone for your kind words in reaction to that post.

grateful

Over the years we've explored truth.  The school's name uses the Visayan word for truth, Kamatuuran.  And how do you know when you find truth?  Can it be possible to find pure truth, stuff that isn't tainted by the slightest bias?  There are honest emotions, but do they automatically remove truth.

2009 has been for me an exploration of emotion.  Ironic as my training has often been about controlling emotion and keeping it in check to be able to think clearing in times of action.  But this should not be confused with ignoring emotion or believing in its non-existence.  There is always a time to mourn.

I find my emotion rising in moments when it is time, in the quiet moments alone when there is not one else to face but yourself.  There is a difference between the temporary and the permanent state.  That momentary sadness is different from the depression of being unable to experience joy.

It is part of what the body and soul endure to come to a peace and understanding of experiences that have gone by.  It is a new thing to navigate.  And I cannot yet possibly imagine the depths in which this path may go.

But I awoke today with the sincerest of joy and gratefulness in my heart.  And I recall when my grandmother passed, my family had spilled out to the hallway of her room in tears and a nurse comment, "someone was well loved here."  That to love and appreciate we risk the greatest of temporary sadness in order to continue to experience the recurring joy and love.

Love endures.

it's easy to doubt

It's easy to replay the past in one's mind and wonder if you did everything you could.  It's easy to research what you might have done and question everything that happened because it doesn't match the perfect way.  It's easy to be critical when the results are a probability instead of a reality.  It's easy to beat yourself up and feel guilty about not doing enough or not doing something exactly right.  You will always be wrong.  Hindsight might be 20-20, but it shouldn't make you blind.

My training, my training has always told me to be critical, to question, to improve.  There is a fine line between critical study and guilt ridden regret.  The difference is the result.  Guilt is based on what could have been.  Study is about what you'll do next time.  It's a vital difference.

The difference between carrying a burdensome past or building a new future.

Today was a time to reflect on the weekend.  Was tricky to concentrate on work with a play by play re-looping in my mind.  I cried remembering my fear and doubt.  I cried remembering the sadness and my own helplessness.  

Then an email asking, should we have done more?

And the answer is always, "we did what we could do at the time we needed to do it."

How do you know?

Because someone is alive to hug his kids, hear his wife say I love you, and for him to reply, "I'm a very lucky guy." 

This is what really needs to replay in our minds.  This is the proof that we did something right, maybe not perfectly, maybe not exactly the way it should have been, but that doesn't matter.  Hugs matter. I love you matters.  Being alive to experience those things matters.

there's a reason

Correction: Saturday was the 3rd time in my life when 911 had to be called. All 3 times, not for me, but for people who happen to be in front of me.

Saturday was the 2nd time in my life when 911 had to be called.  I guess all those human physiology classes and Red Cross emergency classes have paid off.  I guess that means God had me at the right place at the right time to help my friend get immediate assistance after his stroke.  I pray for his wife who must now be the emotional and physical strength for their family.  She is a strong woman who can endure.

While still cognizant and talkative though slow and slurred, my friend still has a long way to go, alot of therapy ahead of him.  We are grateful for hope.

I was glad to have been there for them.  I wish I could do more, but now we are just in the waiting period as the doctors figure out how it happened and try to find the stroke source to lessen the chances of second one, so he can proceed to rehab.

It is now Monday and the happenings of Saturday morning are just now replaying through my mind.  I must remind myself, that we couldn't have done anything better than what we already did.  That he got to the hospital and was able to get treatment in the first 3 hours and the hospital has a specialist unit in strokes.  To be grateful that it happened the way it did, when the alternatives could have been much worse.

His wife remains at his bedside reminding him how much she loves him, reminding him who's a lucky guy, and that he still has alot to do, alot of things to see.  It's up to him now to find his way back.

It is what he has for years trained in me.  The test of your skill is not in practice, but somewhere out there at a time when you need it the most.  Who you are then, is who you really are.  It is how you live your life.

not here, there

Haven't posted much here for various reasons. Mostly because other parts of my life have needed a bit more privacy. But I have been online, mostly on facebook and still contemplating the necessity/usefulness/do-I-really-want-to of twittering.

Rhett and I are working on a couple of books together. One is on getting into college. We're finally writing down all the advise we've given to younger cousins on how to get in, though Rhett is far more successful at getting people into med school (which will be the next book). So I've been studying how other people sell their own books outside of the poetry world and the use of Web 2.0 (twitter, facebook, etc) in marketing and promotion. I'm still not sure how it works. Though picking up hints and tricks here and there.

I have also been posting here posting about the photos and photo products we've been selling online. The photo below is BY FAR our most popular item with someone buying one every other week or so. It's easy to see why. We have an 11x14 of it hanging in our home.

Eiffel Tower Postcard by exquisitephoto
Make postcards On zazzle
Browse Ile-de-France Postcards

Live or Memorex?

I've always been fascinated by technology and how we both we communicate with each other through it but also how it shapes what we say. So when the Kindle 2 came out and it was a product that people were really engaging in, I immediately thought about how does this affect poetry. We know it's a medium for novels and prose text, but what about the poem? Since I still had the layout files for Kali's Blade, I decided to transform the book into Kindle form. Because if I really want to know how this medium changes the face of poetry, I might as well dive right into it.

And not only put it up on Amazon, but also sell it at the special price of $0.99. Unlike the web, which shaped language, the Kindle brings about another important avenue for authors, the price of poetry. How does interacting with poetry on your iPhone change the experience? How does not having physical media to print change how authors make their work accessible to the public? And is the public willing to pay for it? If so, how much?

We know a good poetry book from a small press might sell 100 copies. 1000 copies would be astounding! But even author's who get their texts on their friend's reading course lists will be lucky to hit 1000 copies sold. Let's be honest. Plus how much of the actual cost of the book does an author really get? Not much because of the labor of production. But how many copies could you sell on-line for the right price? And while less and less people have room for shelves, there is growing storage on their computers. But do we want to interact with poetry through technology?

Right now Amazon isn't charging people to put their books on Kindle, so any price is a good price for now, but I suspect like the cuts publishers and distributor's take on paper books, how much Amazon eventually charges will affect the profitability of all of it. And since we're talking business, what of the publisher's, small print distributor's, and book stores? And even the non-businesses like Libraries? Imagine that libraries truly simply become cafes with reading tablets, instead of vast halls of books.

I'm not judging right or wrong, good or bad, I'm simply exploring possibilities. I've already had some lively exchanges with Jean and I'm looking forward to having lively exchanges with any of you!

Kindle Edition (will be up in a few days)


or

Print Edition

drama on the court

I've been attending rehearsals all week to prep for the kali demo we're doing during the Warriors game Thursday night for Filipino Heritage Night.

As Tuhan described us, we're not the typical martial arts demo with drills and tricks. Over the years we went from the drills to bringing a more theatrical element to the demonstrations. Part of this stemming from how we've used the kali in "non-martial arts" settings like poetry readings, modern dance shows, and theatrical presentations. It's less about the techniques we're actually doing, but the story of the lives of the people.

It's been a personal endeavor to not only bring a kali demo to a non-martial art audience such as in "When I was Jaspar John's Filipino Lover" for the Small Press Traffic Jubilee but to also use it to bring other arts into a martial arts venue, like when Eileen came to read during a women's martial arts camp.

Many martial artists I've talked to have often lamented how audiences just don't really care for the martial arts demo. Alot of that has to do with the saturation of martial arts fighting in just about every movie and show that has a fight scene. But also I think in a world where most weapons that are used one never has to ever see the person you're attacking or the one attacking you, hand-to-hand combat in close proximity is an anomaly, something found out of context. Where fighting scenes are often thrown into movies to keep the action going but not to progress the plot, we don't really understand what it means anymore.

Which is why I've enjoyed the direction we (and I mean in how Tuhan and the school has approached demos) have taken to bring a context back to the martial arts. To have the audience understand how it integrates, to give it a different life with story and character, to give them a chance to find the connection with themselves. That this has meaning not just to the people who practice but to the people in the audience.

I won't give too much of the plot away, but I get to be the villain. Muwahahahaha! Villains are fun! I've played the heroine a few times before which was fun too, but the villain always gets to play it up and I get a chance to just throw myself out there on the floor. I'm looking forward to the cathartic release. Kali has always provided me with what I needed at the moment.

public service announcement: duets that should never happen

In watching the Grammies, here are some awards missing from the ceremony:

Duets that should not happen or are clear examples that one half of the duet is really not as talented as well they might be.
Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift - Miley totally oversang her part. She should thank Taylor Swift for graciously adjusting
Stevie Wonder and Jonas Bros - um well, yeah, just about anyone next to Stevie might as well look like a bad back up singer

Best intro of a performer:
Craig Fergeson

Most inspiring and dramatic performance and entrance:
Jennifer Hudson - The way her voice came on the stage before we could see her was a testament to her talent

Best backup performances:
all the choirs and string orchestras - can't sound bad with those backing you up. oh yeah and plastic bucket drum corp rocks too; marching band, not so much

Held his own:
Jaime Fox filling in for the Four Tops tribute

Only guy who could get the ENTIRE Staples Pavilion singing along:
Neil Diamond - how can you resist Sweet Caroline, ooh ooh ooh!

Sad that they were an asterisk to the entire show:
lifetime achievement awardees - seemed like the whole night it was like Oh and btw, we gave these people an award

reset

The body has a way of resetting itself. I spent this past weekend resetting. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. At least nothing some sleep and ibuprofen can't handle.

We even reset a room by removing a large table in it that mostly encouraged piles of stagnant stuff. The new space makes me happy. In the clean up, I found an unused spafinder and see's candy gift certificate.

Waking up this morning I find myself in a bit of a daze. Partially wanting to just hide out some more, and linger. I'll have to save that for another day. Perhaps when I get around to using the spafinder card.

perspective

A friend on facebook commented, she couldn't wait for year of the rat to be over.

Looking back over the year, it was a year of so many new experiences and milestones. Of realizing potential that was there and of trusting that that potential will manifest itself into something real.

It has marked what has been set to be the next 12 years of my life, of all the things this will include. Though not the greatest starts, more like sputtering trials, there is hope that the pieces of my life will get into gear.

A year of firsts can be an emotional rollercoaster with the newness of things elevating both the joy and tragedy of the moment. It as helped a great deal to gain perspective from people with much more experience with all of this than I have. There's something to be said about a trusting yet nonchalant voice in the midst of what at the moment was quite a personal disappointment. There are times when one doesn't need empathy, one simply needs perspective.

That all of this is not as hard or difficult or traumatizing as it may seem at the moment. It is simply a small thing. And an experience that may open the door to something greater, so stop the quibbling, get a move on, it's not an end, it's a hiccup.

There are still a few scary hurdles, no doubt. Risks to be taken. But it all seems less scary when it really isn't a setback or an end, but a means to a beginning.

Year of the Ox is coming in. A time of resolve and steadfastness. I'm looking forward to it.

funny for the day

In regards to the airplane that crash landed in the Hudson, a co-worker said,

"After that, I'm totally going to pay attention to the emergency evacuation procedures and stop playing my DS. I just figured that if we crashed we would all automatically die, so what's the point? who knew those flotation things even work?"

OK I thought it was funny, but I can get into that morbid funny bone state at times.

funny moments on TV

I was watching that new show called the Doctors. The one woman on the panel is an OB/GYN.

Two funny things:

1. There was a very nice couple in the audience. The wife looked to be like 7 months pregnant. The OB/GYN talks about how women have the choice between a vaginal or c-section and each has pros and cons. The guys didn't understand why women just don't go vaginal and go c-section if it looks like plan v doesn't work. But the OB/GYN was super adamant that women should be informed and choose as the medical establishment can't really agree on a best way.

And here's the kicker, while the OB/GYN is arguing for choice, she says, "if YOU only knew all the different ways a vaginal birth can go bad, then you wouldn't be saying that!" pan to pregnant woman in the audience with this shocked expression of "OMG how am I going to get this thing out of me?" I mean she had real fear and dread on her face about the idea of giving birth. um, yeah. maybe we should have left the pregnant woman in ignorant bliss. Sometimes we don't need to know what doctor's are thinking.

2. The hubby noticed her eyebrows and the furrows in the OB/GYN doctor's forehead. He, as is his way, became really shockingly distressed about the asymmetry of her eyebrows, because well, messed up eyebrows disturb him. That in and of itself is funny. But then he also became very distressed by the deep furrows which he said almost made her look Klingon-ish. OMG! His hysteria was hysterical! Though this occurrence was not as funny when he pointed out the eye make up of a KQED fundraising spokeswoman that was downright scary and made her eye pop out every time she lifted her eyebrow which was often. But I digress.

Hey sometimes you have to find the entertainment in entertainment.

started a new blog yesterday

I started a new blog yesterday, though at this point I'm not ready to reveal publicly its location. I haven't quite decided yet. I might not ever. I did find it helpful to finally be able to write about things that are only semi-public at this point in my life.

It's been a while since I've written just for myself.

a brand new year around the corner

2008 was a building year for me. By the end of 2007 I had been thrust into new leadership positions and areas of steep learning curves. A shift had been made, thus 2008 was about getting my mind, body and spirit to adjust to those shifts.

By the end of 2008, I think I came out of it on a very good note. I still had learning curves to go, but I had good momentum, particularly in the leadership arena. And in the end surprised myself and was surprised by the recognition I was receiving. One of my last messages was that training time was over, and that I had the skills to run with it.

As as my direction turned yet another door opened. One that will dramatically change not only my life but the lives around me. A direction I've always wanted to go in, and glad I'm here, but still feeling a bit timid about being able to do this. It is overwhelming on so many different levels and even more so after all these holiday celebrations. But I guess that's not the real question, because like it or not there is no turning back.

If 2008 was the building year, 2009 is the being year. There is no question now who I've become, and no more reason for me to question it any longer, especially when there are so many people recognizing it in me. It's not so much believing in myself as it is believing in them, in the people who have watched me come to this point and new all along without a doubt that I would make it here.

At this moment there seems to be no room for the past or the future, just room for the present. The future I can't even imagine and the past seems like a completely different life. So living in the present seems good for now. Take each day as it comes. Knowing the eventfulness that 2009 will bring, taking each day as it comes might be the best thing to do.