Fingers crossed

Catching myself humming “I’m leaving on a jet plane” while packing this morning is a good sign. I love travel but I hate to pack. It’s those tiny, last minute details that always slip my mind when I pack that makes me reluctant to do the task. For example, I forgot to pack my camera charger this morning…it’s my good fortune that my flight is at five this afternoon and I have time to pick up the charger at home before going to the airport.

When I go on vacation, I just pack the basic---shorts, t-shirts, underwear, toiletries, slippers/running shoes and camera. But when I travel for business like what I’m doing today, there are a million and one things that I need to pack. I usually make a list the day before I pack but still, there are small things that I tend to forget.

I’m also a bit anxious about this trip because I’ll be meeting, for the first time, a new client from the Middle East. It’s his first trip to Cebu, and his first visit to the Cebu X (Cebu International Furniture Show). I've been handling American and British clients, and working with this Middle Eastern client is a first for me. I hope he likes Cebu furniture, love his stay at Mactan Shangrila, love his visit in Cebu, and I can convince him to see the Pampanga furniture factories as well...Oh well, I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

See you all again on Monday! Have a wonderful weekend everyone.

Dreaming of Summer

at Iwahig Penal Colony, Palawan

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit."

Is summer officially here? We still get drizzles and cool breezes in the evenings, but the afternoons have become sultry. I’m off to Negros in two weeks and really looking forward to the trip.

Ah, summer---a season for adventure! I love lazy summer afternoons, having siesta in a hammock under the shade of my grandfather’s old mango tree. The leaves filtering the warm sunshine, creating a dreamy and magical light. The soft breeze cools the sweat on my forehead as I sip iced tea, snack on boiled saba dipped in bagoong, and marvel at the landscape of my childhood.

At night, under the full moon, I would lie on the grass; listen to the murmur of the wind, the rustle of the leaves, the songs of cicada. The stars seem so near as I watch one or two fall from the heavens. The distant strum of guitar serenades the enchanting night as frogs frolic in the nearby pond, night birds croon at their nest.

Summer mornings would find me by the beach, picking up shells and pebbles; chasing hermit crabs back to their burrows, gaze at the ocean's expanding blue horizon and dance with the waves. I would wait for the fisherman's fresh catch, wave at them as the small boat approaches the shore. I miss the unhurried mornings, and the simple joy of being at the water’s edge, feel the warmth of oncoming tide against my feet.

I don't know what it is about summer...but everything looks vivid at this time of the year, everything in full color. When summer comes, I'm in love with life "as an ant on a summer blade of grass".

For friends who went away...

Fort San Pedro, Cebu City

Years from now

I shall have forgotten

where you went to school

the number on your gatepost

your mother's maiden name

But I shall not forget

the merciless affectionate teasing

your bunny rabbit smile

when you're happy

and that your favorite color

is indigo

Years from now

I shall have forgotten

who you are

but I shall remember you.

For the past few years, there has been an exodus of my friends leaving the country in search of greener pastures. Jo, one of my best friends, left for Canada about 5 years ago. Former officemates, classmates, friends and acquaintances followed. Miles in Dallas, Arni in New York, Cecille, Maeann and Jojie in Toronto, Chari and Merlie in New Zealand, Mel in Houston, Vicky in New Jersey, Jean in Bahrain, Bobby in Manchester, Helen in Boston, Jeana in Las Vegas, Terry in Georgia, Chubby in Riyadh, Gemma in Reno, Fred in Nigeria, Alma in Dublin, Yvette in Ontario, Malou in Milan, Rina in Burbank, Jun in Seattle, Stella in Frankfurt, Josie and Chat in Hong Kong, Bong and Girlie in San Francisco, Sally and Sallie in Dubai, and recently, Jonathan left for London. While I understand their life’s journey, it saddens me that my friends believe that the realization of their dreams is not here, but out there.

with Jonathan and Kong in Fort San Pedro

The heart is a lonely hunter...

dawn in Romblon

When I think of loneliness, the novel "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" is the first thing that comes to mind.

Is it OK to talk about loneliness nowadays? Probably not. There’s always shame and disgrace attached to admitting loneliness. Maybe this is the reason why I sometimes wrap it in fancy names like depression (sounds like a medical condition), blues (a personal idiosyncrasy), PMS (can’t help it). I have friends and family and I can find the company I want if I really want it…but it’s the type of company that adds to my feelings of isolation. For a couple of weeks now, I can never quite seem to shake this state of discontented estrangement. I'm having a hard time getting up in the morning--all I want to do is sleep.

My co-worker suggested that I go out of town with friends, that I need a break. I was thinking of going to Baguio last Friday for the Panagbenga festival, but I was too lazy to even pack! I like the idea of going out of town---anywhere---but I don’t like company. Right now, I want to just drive alone without a definite destination. The scheduled trip to Cebu next week is probably a good thing.

I was out with friends almost every night last week…watched a movie, drinks and blabber---but I felt incredibly lonely in the middle of it all. I hugged Fritz last night and was overcome by that same emptiness.

Maybe it's the literature I've been reading---I’ve finished Orhan Pamuk’s “Istanbul” and have started on “The Kite Runner” by an Afghan-American author Khaled Hosseini. I guess the melancholy (or huzun) of “Istanbul” didn’t leave me.

Huzun is a Turkish word whose Arabic root (it appears five times in the Koran) denotes a feeling of deep spiritual loss but also a hopeful way of looking at life, “a state of mind that is ultimately as life-affirming as it is negating.” For the Sufis, huzun is the spiritual anguish one feels at not being close enough to God; for Saint John of the Cross, this anguish causes the sufferer to plummet so far down that his soul will, as a result, soar to its divine desire. Huzun is therefore a sought-after state, and it is the absence, not the presence, of huzun that causes the sufferer distress.

While some of us spend a lifetime trying to escape loneliness with shoe shopping, binge eating, alcohol, one-night stands…I believe that the only real way through it is by forming true connections with people. But as I grow older, I sometimes feel that I seem to have lost the connection with people, that I indulge myself in solitude. Have I become indifferent? Have I opted to emails, internet chats, blogging, and text messages in order not to get my hands dirty in the humus of humanity? Are these technologies little arrows targeting at the heart of loneliness, or they’re the contributing factors?

I don't know if my loneliness is a symptom of not being “present” in my life. Do I live in the past or the future? Am I denying myself this moment? I ask myself lots of difficult questions when I’m in this mood, and I don’t have the answers. But I learned from experience that loneliness is part of the puzzle of existence, a passing phase, a flatulence of the soul—so I know, I’ll snap out of it. It’s just a question of when.

Don't Quote Me

All things change, nothing is extinguished. There is nothing in the whole world which is permanent. Everything flows onward; all things are brought into being with a changing nature; the ages themselves glide by in constant movement.

~ Ovid

“The strongest oak of the forest is not the one that is protected from the storm and hidden from the sun. It's the one that stands in the open where it is compelled to struggle for its existence against the winds and rains and the scorching sun."

~Napoleon Hill (1883-1970)

Bamboo at Greenbelt 5