*
You didn’t realize that it’s the last day of 2011. Maybe for you- it did not matter much. You moved fast as you were running late, shook the table accidentally and Hyacinth’s mug of coffee dripped. You said sorry. You don’t believe in age that much but for the record, she’s 18. She’s going to Japan, her third country visited -July. You are to be interviewed.
“What drives you to go out there and help?” It’s one of the many questions. And there she clicked her phone to record everything. Ryan was smiling, doing some hand signals from the barista corner. You were holding a mug of cocoa. You could not even come up with a definite reason why you were there, in that moment. To be interviewed. To be the answer of most youngsters in your little town. You found it a little over the top. A little weird, but yeah you feel in awe for such a surprising invitation.
You told her it’s a tough question because the answer is just too abstract. You told her it’s a gravity that remains nameless. A feeling that blossomed somewhere from the inside. Maybe for others it’s passion, for others- it’s a calling. For you, it’s something that melts and dances. And there you go, holding a hand, listening to a dream, sharing a hug. In a hasty recall, you told her about walking from the Sitio to the town proper just to go to school, flying kites, going through being a money-making robot, being on the road for 6 months alone, living intensely mad, living in seclusion near the hills and the sea, being breadwinner, being detached a bit, being in a great loving romantic relationship, being depressed, being just anything- label-less, tagless, box-less, nameless…and so forth.
The interview lasted for minutes, the entire “talk” for hours. You listened much. She told you about this far-flung barrio that she’s been to and how an old man from a hut shared to her what they’ve got- dried fish and instant noodles. She told that you with magic in her eyes. She also told you about the ills of the government, the tea pots in South Korea and the planner from Starbucks. You told her something about Starbucks and you sounded preachy. haha. So she left to the hills with her churchmates to share gifts with the aetas.
And on the last day of 2011, you finally talked with Ryan. He and 3 of his friends built Le’ Art Cafe. He wants it to be a venue for young people who are interested in the arts and dreams because he feels that maybe, the next someone larger than life is just a little boy in Barotac Viejo who needs some encouragement. You missed lunch for stories. And so there you go again, mental holes. You listened much, learned : coincidences, kindness on the road, first-hand experience over books, culture vs modernization, capitalism, a copy of a copy of a copy, trimming inessentials, humility, real love vs pop culture, spirituality. And soon, hit the road again with no expectations - with him, your sister , your cousin , and a step backward from a day job.
You spent some moments serving frappe to customers and went home walking alone. Then a flash of thoughts ran in your head, a flash in a beautiful slow mo: hundreds of one-time encounters with chitchats, places that made you commune with nature so intimately, a series of lows, mini-eternities and natural highs, lovely lovely people whose names echoed in your head and suddenly you wanted to tell them i love you i miss you thank you, soft kindness, this and that which strengthen the mind, soften the heart, destroy the wall between the yours and theirs, the tamed and the wild.
And while walking you smile at the thought of a porch, friends, some stars, talking about war. 5 or 10 years later. War. Not because you were soldiers but because you’ve lived.
.
*
This is a documentation of the selected Barotac Viejo National High School Students for the YES Camp Docu-kalikasan Contest last May 1-5, 2011 which is held in the Teacher’s Camp in Baguio City.
Director: Jed Ofilan
Reporter: Razel Montanez
Videographer: Ryan Chris Ariego
Adviser: Mrs. Bella Verjes
A friend recently asked me why I thought life was beautiful. I believe it’s beautiful because we are artists of reality, whether in our life, city life or global life. It’s starts with individual choice of mind.
Through our thoughts, feelings and actions we sculpt, create and design the artwork that …affects the world. When we are surrounded by ugliness, hard people, bad values and shit politics..we must remember that it’s our very positive presence that affects all the energies around us.
So when the magic becomes too quiet, and the bullshit becomes too loud, listen very carefully - stop trying, stop moving and be quiet. Because nothing matters as much as the pulse, the beat, the energy we project, the choice that is inside..and that’s why it can be so beautiful.
BE LOVE
the rest follows..
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Social Changes Happen Not Because of Nations But Because of Individuals
—
SINGGIT has shared energy and time. AND LOVE.
—
*
You also get that feeling sometimes when you just want the world to have faith in humanity more. When deep down, all these theories that you have read when you were younger all collapse at the tips of your eyelashes and you say to yourself “i cannot rationalize things that matter the most” —sometimes you guess that such realization makes you feel more alive. You wonder why it has to be like that: people are busy moving forward while you take it slow, dreaming, reaching, dreaming, treading,waking up, yawning, reaching. then in other days, you just burn and explode.
So you dream of owning a hut with big windows. A view of the fields or the sea or both. You think of starting up something sustainable for the children or the community because you felt that giving them a bowl of arroz caldo is only good for 4 hours or even lesser. You build steps towards that dream. In some days, the worldliness grows stronger so you lazy around, download a movie, watch it, download the discography of Nina Simone, listen to it, sit, read news, get pissed off, read status updates, raise an eyebrow, fetch water and teach.
You get this feeling when all your efforts are useless. Why would you need to care when you have yourself and your younger siblings to look after for? Why settle for a bamboo hut when you can set an ambition of a bigger house and a funky car? Why would you care for other creatures when you are made to be the rational human being who can dance? Why are you so curious about the way of life that might work for you better when you earn OK and eat OK? Why do you tell your friends to ditch that overrated posh coffee because they pay the farmers fucking cheap (when they just need to give themselves a treat)? Why do you feel so bad about celebrities that show off their expensive bags ? Why do you complain too much about the irresponsible journalism, movie industry and brgy captain (and revolt in ways that you believe in)? Why do you cry inside when you see the lack of social responsibility? Why do you even waste time scribbling like this?
Then, at one point, a chance like meeting someone who has THE passion for life and THE tenderness for some not-so-cared-for living creatures around him makes you turn your back from all the doubts and just
dream, reach, dream, tread,wake up, yawn, reach.
then in other days, you just burn and explode.
.
Mark frolicking with kids - Pula Playground Project
.
*
“do you want a ride?”, a smiling couple stopped after some minutes when i told my companions - - “let us try hitchhiking”
the mini bus was old. it was painted blue, the seat covers were old too - pink and blue streaks. Arnold and Jeane are Herbalife distributors. they gave us a free lift from Tiptop down to Session Road. as i sat there, my heart felt a kind of warmth that i haven’t felt before. feelings are interesting, you can try to categorize them but it’s impossible to put them into clear bottles and LABEL. let us say, it was a kind of warmth that sings a random acts of kindness song.
back in Iloilo, i brought 4 books. 3 from Shila -Introduction to Zen Buddhism (very old, yellow pages, smells so awesome), Awakening of Zen Buddhism (very interesting cover and a torn plastic) and Intuitive Learning (thick and instructional and it makes me curious) and Inky gave me The Invisible Child - on reading and writing Children’s Book (smells new, covered blue. Inky is a lovely artist. we collaborated on a song 5 years ago via Deviant Art). I started to read the oldest book. But more than the book, it’s the corners walked and moments shared that enriched me. it’s interesting how brief and\ encounter is and when you move on, you feel a pinch of change somewhere inside you. nothing beats first-hand experience i guess.
back in the pine cones the third time after 11 years. it’s good to see and feel a place when you are “older”. if i have to compare it to another activity, it would have to be reading the Little Prince at 26. crowded city. starting to lose it’s old buildings. but the art is still there: quirky shops, hip bookstores, artsy cafes. parks full of beggars, small rakets (pose with a dog and pay, pose with Igorot costume and pay, massage, boat ride, horse ride, mats for naps), taxi cabdrivers who would spin you around and charge you 83 (this is why walking does wonders unless you’re off for a farther spot). well, everyone is trying to survive. but since Philippine cities do not fascinate me that much,i invited my buddies to surf at my friend’s couch. she named her home on top of the hill, SKY.
indeed, it was difficult to leave. 20 meters up there, closer to the clouds and the stars.
You sit on the porch, and these wonders of creation gaze at you: dangling lime fruits, pine trees, sayote tops, sunflowers, two Sagada huts, an old bench, an old tree swing, old pails lined up, misty grasses, and old fire place, blooming flowers, mint and basil. you can just imagine her way of living and consuming. this is what i like about meeting new people, you get to see how they handle things and how they think and you get to re-assess yours. it’s like taking a peek and finding out if it can also work for you or the other way around.
when we had to leave, i turned my back and could feel that Shila was walking into her nook, walking slowly with her free flowing hair touching her arms, the windows welcomed fresh cold breeze and the laughter last night over road trips and Ilonggo humor—flew into the old kettles.
.
*
my sister glorifying Tigayon lake (Tigayon Hills, Aklan)
nostalgia in frame:
Erfurt.
imagine a street full of quaint shops.
each shop owning a YOUness. one shop full of mugs, another of vintage cameras, an old one displaying typewriters. each shop offers various sizes, ages and styles of a certain product. as much as i enjoy the random small shops here in Calle Real, it felt extra special to aimlessly walk and step inside those shops. that time, i felt that the eyes are indeed windows to the soul. it cured a hunger. sensuous journey on foot for a couple of hours.
here’s to celebrating the old and the authentic, the beautiful hands of people everywhere that mold and create, the beauty and catharsis of the human soles, the awe of taking in— every crumb of something to discover.
—–*
recently, balcony and bus window music:
Bon Iver
Alexi Murdoch
Mumford and Sons
Yann Tiersen
Devendra Barnhart
Angus and Julia Stone
The Tallest Man On Earth
.
*
she likes seashore naps and the view of everything from the bus window. she likes tiny moments and the small spaces between faces when people talk.
sometimes, she wakes up to that odd feeling of being a fallen leaf, an old tree, an azotea or a waitress somewhere-- talking to a taxicab driver about that random song on the radio.
*
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---
and this. a proof that:
how you see LIFE is how
you actually see YOUR self.
*
*
***
maddening spurt:
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“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
-Jack Kerouac-
