COMING UP!!!

Oh, Motherhood!

It is the most rewarding, yet difficult job of all. This morning I had but a moment of warmth and joy. I have it each time I wake my youngest (my older boy is already up and reading when I come out of my room) and I see him asleep, one of two angels somehow entrusted to me in this life. I slide into his bed, appreciating the warmth and enjoying the sleep-smell of him. It's heaven. Then he raises his hand to cradle my chin or grasp at any part of me in greeting, before he draws me into a hug and a kiss. This little ritual is a thing of joy and I wish motherhood were all about that.

But it isn't. About a half hour later everything changed. As I told them about dinner with the family tonight in Alabang, the little one's face clouded. "But I have violin lessons! I want to come home first." But there was no time for that. He withdrew and was cold and we had breakfast in this atmosphere of emotional sludge, which then drove me to not only eat a croissant (I've been off bread for some time), but to dunk it violently and repeatedly into a demitasse of rich Valhrona chocolate.

I have been struggling with an increasingly hectic schedule for them. They have Kung Fu lessons after school, which they love, but twice a week was feeling a bit much, because there are violin and flute lessons for the younger one, and now there are violin and extra lessons for the older one, who is preparing for high school entrance exams. Take away Kung Fu then. No, they protested. Okay, two hours Monday and no more Wednesday. We thought that was a good compromise but they came home too exhausted and announced "Two hours on Monday is too much because we also had P.E. today and it was really tiring." So they woke up tired and grumpy this morning.

So, now we're calibrating again to find a balance somewhere, but something has to give. This morning was a give moment and I expect more of it until we find the right mix of rest, activity and recreation, a healthy breathing in and breathing out.

In the meantime, I am hurled back and churned out constantly by the emotions that accompany life changes and difficulties, and I have to remind myself that the croissant and chocolate help nothing, least of all my middle-aged thighs.



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Writing and Technology

I don't know about you, but I feel like years of working on a computer--and I use the term loosely--seems to have rewired my brain.

I used to be more creative. I read the articles I used to write and get somewhat depressed at the quality of the pieces I churn out today. My pieces were so much more pictorial before.

Technology changed that. I'm seeing image upon image all day and I guess I am just not creating them internally or as vividly as I used to, back when I wasn't spending so much time online.

It's not just that. The mistakes I make today I never used to make before. I think of a word, keep typing, and then freak out to see that I typed something else all together. I was better at thinking, writing and creating before the internet. I was also more precise. Today, words elude me. Yes, okay, part of it is age, but I suspect that online time has dulled my creative brain cells.

I've tried writing longhand again (even the quality of my penmanship has suffered from lack of practice), but the world moves so quickly online that I feel the process just delays everything. Today, I skip issues I would have written about before, just because I'm not that quick a thinker and the younger writers are just more adept at thinking, writing, and pressing the send or publish button. I just can't keep up.

So, I think I'll just make an effort to journal more, by hand, try to spend less time online (that's getting harder and harder to do, yes?), and just do more things away from the computer. We really need to make an effort to live more, don't we?

Rizal at 150

This year,  I thought it was time to make an effort towards connecting my children with their history and their lineage. When I use the word "lineage" I don't mean it in a haughty, blue-blooded (yeah, right) way.  I believe that to be judged by blood is a thing of the past and today, what truly counts is a life measured by deeds.  Having said that, I also don't think it's right to ignore one's heritage, the way I tried to, because I just felt that if people found out I was a Rizal descendant, I would simply fade away in comparison. 

Maria Rizal

We are descended from Maria Rizal.  Her son, Moris, was the father of our beloved grandmother,  Fe Arguelles Cruz, whom we fondly called Lola Ba (short for Lola Taba, I kid you not), which later morphed to Mamoo.  Moris was nephew and student to Rizal.  For the longest time, Mamoo kept a letter of Rizal's to Maria, telling her of her's son's progress during a summer spent with him in Dapitan. Every so often she would show us this letter and tell us other stories that were passed on by her grandmother and father. (translation here) The letter has since been donated to the Ateneo.

This letter was the only true connection I ever felt I had with Jose Rizal, whom Mamoo referred to as either Lolo Jose or Lolo Rizal.  I can count on one hand just how many Rizal family reunions I have attended, but now that I have my own children,  I feel it's time to hear the stories again and inspire them to find the Rizal in them, as every Filipino should.

This year, I brought my youngest son, Jose Andres (yes, named after both heroes because I thought it was a good way to put all the discussions to rest), to two events: the visit of President Aquino to the Rizal shrine at his residence in Calamba and then the family celebration at Fort Santiago at night. It was a full day!

We started our day early, as the invitation specifically said the President would arrive at 8 a.m.  We were there well before and were very happy when the President arrived ahead of time as well.

President Aquino arrives at the shrine

Raising the flag

Laying of the wreath.

President Aquino does a brief round of handshakes with the family.

The ceremony at the Rizal Shrine was short, sweet and well-organized. When we got to the second floor of the house, my mother immediately took my son to the window and told him to pay attention, because on the 200th year celebration, it would probably be his turn to participate in the program.  At that moment I felt my task as a mother was done.

It's enough for my son to get a glimpse of what it means to be descended from the Rizal clan. It does not bring a sense of entitlement or superiority (heaven forbid), but a sense of responsibility to make sure that there is continuity in the family. Last night an aunt said that it was time for the Catholic Church to apologize for its transgressions against Rizal and the people of Calamba who were evicted from their homes during his time.  Another relative spoke about the work that needs to be done do document all the writings and work of Rizal, making sure that everything is in place, well-preserved and cared for. And who painted the house green? ;p Different family members had their own ideas of what project they might take on. 

It is not for me to say how my children will choose to participate in this part of their heritage. It is enough for me to make the connection.  What is important is they know it is there as just one part of who they are, but the rest of the work, of laying down deeds as their life's work, that is all up to them and no amount of blood ties will matter then.  In the end, it is what we do with our lives that makes us who we are. Everyone has Rizal in them. Everyone.

I loved being able to share this moment with my son on this day in history.

I am happy to be connecting with Rizal as an adult again. I have been living with so many questions about who I am as a Filipino, and what my deeds this far in my life have amounted to. His 150th year has roused me from inner lethargy. I hope this time the journey is more lasting.

Words

We don't often think of the true meaning of words. We tend to use them casually, without a thought as to what they truly mean. Worse, we adapt someone else's definition or idea of it and leave it at that, no questions asked.

I have a friend who was always told (by her husband) that she had no compassion and that she was cold.  She asked a therapist or two if that's what they thought and they looked at her and said she was quite the opposite. Her husband, who considered himself King of Compassion(that he uttered these words to her speaks volumes), equated compassion with gushing, tears and dramatic emotional displays.  Well, that was not her forte.  But it didn't mean that she wasn't a deeply feeling and compassionate person. I like to point out that it was her compassion that made her stay in a marriage that was full of lies. She just kept trying to understand her husband, give him space and time to heal his wounds and change on his own. If she were not compassionate, she would not have been able to stay as long as she did.

How many words do we spout, carry and use inappropriately?  How many have mislabelled and wounded others? Your idea of what a word means isn't always what it is. Your perception does not make a word, so be mindful when you speak.

Words create worlds, but they can also be weapons that degrade the human soul.

Bohol Files 4: The Forest

On our way to the Chocolate Hills, we passed a beautiful stretch of road.  It was lush forest on either side. Aaaaaahhhhhhh....just lovely! I commented on it and our driver said the forest was man made! Whoa!

I realized I was of the thought that man damages the environment.  I had never seen such a positive expression of man's contribution to it. This was awesome. If I remember correctly, our guide said the trees were planted some time in the Eighties.

This is what we noticed about Bohol, in general. People tend to live with an awareness of going with nature rather than against it. Of course there are pockets that show otherwise, but for the most part, there is a good healthy blend of man and nature.

What a hopeful stretch of road.

It's How We Roll

I watched a rather silly film called "Hall Pass" recently. It's about two mid-lifing men who get a hall pass from their wives: a week off from their marriages to get everything out of their systems. The men are total flops and are proven to be total losers in the dating game. The women inadvertently do better. This made me think of how different male and female sexuality truly are.

I read before that women's orgasms really happen in the brain, but I have to say it's not really the brain. It sounds so terribly corny, but for a woman it starts in the soul.  So, if you're inattentive, spacing out, not listening, being a flake, not holding your own, don't expect us to want sex. It just doesn't happen that way. Women are turned on by engagement. When we are seen, heard, spoken to, appreciated, heart to heart and soul to soul authentically by our faithful lovers, that is the hottest thing.

Perhaps I speak for myself, but rippled abs don't do it for me.  In fact, men who spend too much time trying to do the macho turn me off.  Men who are engaged in life and truth, who have integrity, are gentle and kind and are not led by their hormones and emotions, are not dazzled and dazed by superficiality, who find beauty where others can't--these are the qualities that turn a woman on, so much more than muscles or wealth.

For a woman, the way to sexual intimacy is an all-terrain ride. Sorry, but that's just the way it is. For men, the close proximity of flesh is all it takes. For us, it goes further back. Are you present when we're together? Do you see me? Hear me? Are you interested in what I'm saying or are you nodding off absently? Every meeting and coming together is a building block towards better sex. We need for the invisible connections to be vivid, strong and present, and then we want to take it to the next level. But if all we see is disinterest or physical need and nothing more, a good read might be more enticing.

And that is just the way it is for us, especially as we grow older and come into our own. Sexual intimacy happens way outside the bedroom first. Every encounter with our partner throughout the day, in every way, will determine our enthusiasm and desire for more later on.

Yup. That's just how we roll.

Bohol Files 3: The Tarsier

photo by DALE DIAZ

This part of our trip was a little sad.  We saw this little guy right on the Loboc riverbank. I've seen photos of tarsiers perched on shoulders and arms before and I'm glad that human beings are no longer allowed to touch them. They feel totally traumatized, actually, and there are stories about them banging their heads to induce death because of all the stress tourism brings. That's just heartbreaking.

There was a baby tarsier where we were and the poor thing was just curled up and huddled, all alone on a branch.  I could feel his fear so I told the kids to go quietly into the next hub where the adults were. On the upside, the tarsiers are free to roam. Their caretakers say they always come back, but I'm not sure that is a measure of their health or happiness.

Our guide said that they are not endangered. He claims the reports are false and the tarsiers are still everywhere.  His tone suggested that all the new guidelines about the care of tarsiers are a bit over the top. My experience with them tells me the opposite. Wouldn't it be kinder to just let them be so that future generations can flourish in the wild again?

Bohol Files 2: The ATV Experience

photo by DALE DIAZ

Anything that requires helmets has never been my thing. I thought about that as I painstakingly navigated my very first ATV (all-terrain vehicle) through the Bohol countryside.  It occurred to me, out in the middle of nowhere, that my automatic shunning of any activity that needs head gear might be traced to the death of a much loved uncle, one of my mother’s favorite cousins. 

Tito Benny was young, warm, funny, and father to gorgeous twins.  As a child, I remember the bottomless grief that surrounded us during his funeral and the strange siren sound that filled the chapel on the last day. It was his widow’s wail--an ethereal sound I will forever associate with pure pain. That was my first lesson on loss and it was a hard one.

But our children lead us to untold destinations and on this particular trip, my boys brought me to this place of reckoning:  a vehicle that required a helmet.  I suppose it can be described as a motorcycle with four wheels and that gives some kind of consolation when that’s all you have on your side. I tried to scan the place for any other kind of vehicle that didn’t require me to learn a new skill or don the dreaded metal head wrap, but the only tandem ride they had was under repair.  I wasn’t about to lose sight of my boys or hand them over blindly to the locals just because I didn’t like the idea of helmets and rides.  So, at the ripe middle age of 44, I donned a smelly helmet and got on the thing with wheels.

The first thing they make you do is drive the ATV on a little practice trail. Of course I drove straight into the grass and knocked down a wooden pole;  I forgot that brakes are useful things.  You press them and then you stop, hopefully before you destroy property or body parts. I use my feet for brakes, but for this particular vehicle, that doesn’t work. Once I got my hard-wired brain around that detail, I was okay. D thinks I held everyone up with my lack of speed and skill, but I don’t think it matters. Our boys had a grand time. No one else complained.  All they care about is that they got to drive their own ATVs. I saw a lot of butterflies on the way, too, and I don’t think anyone who zips through life for the sake of speed sees all the lovely details. I did.

So I finally did the helmet-and-wheels combo, but I did not forget to take in the sights, the lush and lovely Bohol countryside, its mud and manure, but also the birds, butterflies and dragonflies, the children who waved at us, unaware of the threshold I was crossing, and the grandmother who flashed me a smile of solidarity.


I'm thankful that the helmet, ATV and I had a life-giving experience.  It made me remember Tito Benny and his wonderful laugh.

Bohol Files 1: The Ananyana

D and I took our four boys on our first ever summer trip together.  At first I explored bringing them to Misibis Bay but the cost was so prohibitive and went against my goal of showing them how to travel simply. We checked out several resorts, but in the end we went for this little 12-room resort on Panglao Island, The Ananyana. We loved it.

I love that it isn't a concrete structure, but a series of huts that blend with nature. It's simple and nicely done.  The resort is over a decade old and could do with some sprucing up, but the rooms are still clean and comfortable.

D and I took a regular room. We put our boys in a family room.  The upstairs area of their room could use renovating. Though I appreciate the capiz doors and windows, there were holes in them that were taped over. They ought to repair that or change the finishing.  Our room had plain white walls which gave the room a welcome brightness.  Our boys, who like to read, could have used some of that.  We asked for better reading lamps for them instead, which the staff readily provided.

I don't know about you but I like to be able to fully close the bathroom door.  Our bathroom had swing type little doors that belong more to a bar in a Western; it didn't give much privacy.  The kids had a large floor to ceiling curtain as their bathroom door, which gave some coverage but still not enough privacy.  That would probably be the one thing I would change.  It would also be nice if all resorts started using earth-friendly soaps, shampoos, cleaners, etc.  This one uses Safeguard.  On the upside, I discovered that Safeguard removes mud stains! Whoa! Still, I doubt it's good for earth, foliage or sea. Other than that, we were all more than comfortable and enjoyed the simplicity and charm of the place.

I loved the hammocks.  The minute I saw them I knew I came to the right place. There are 5 of them in all.  Even the kids enjoyed them.  They spent a lot of time reading and swaying in the breeze. Sarap!! No beach trip is complete without the requisite "duyan" and I love Ananyana for making sure they had it.

The service is good. We got to know our waiters Coro and Danny and one of the boat men, Eric, and the very helpful manager, Ruela. We joked that they might have thrown a party after we left because we had so many requests. They made every effort to grant them. I asked for my meals without rice, but with a salad instead. We asked for fresh juices without sugar. The menu could use more good salads with lots more greens,  because you start to look for variety if you're staying in a lot and for more than 3 days (we stayed 5 nights). We love the place anyway! And we loved it even more when we discovered there were no TV sets in the rooms. YES!! They have a small one near the dive shop with dvds to rent and the kids enjoyed Yogi Bear one afternoon. But that was it. 

One of the reasons we chose the resort is its proximity to the beach.  Though the water is very, very shallow for a long stretch,  you can rent the resort boat to bring you to deeper waters for better swimming and great snorkeling. We booked tours through the resort and they were well organized and priced very well. 

The kids want to go back and D. and I wouldn't mind it either. It's harder and harder to find little places that are simple, clean, comfortable, nice and well run. The Ananyana is one such place.  If you're thinking of visiting Bohol, make sure you check it out.

Oh, Maria!

What words are there? I was very sad to hear about the end of Maria Shriver's marriage because I thought theirs was the kind that endured. Days after, girlfriends and I shuddered at what was yet to come. True enough, the cat is out of its sordid bag.

The level of untruth and betrayal is astounding. That the woman with whom Arnold Schwarzenegger had a child was a trusted housekeeper for 20 years makes it all the more cruel. Half that time, she must have interacted with Maria Shriver and her children on a daily basis. Lord, she must have been carrying that baby in her belly in plain view of the family day in and day out. That is just so twisted.

On the surface it seems valiant of Schwarzenegger to say he deserves to be mistreated, but please, not his family. Well, he should have thought of all that before. The truth is the minute he crossed THAT threshold, he tore his family apart and made them vulnerable to the world. That was all his doing. And what of the little son?

Deception leaves too many casualties in its wake.

I wrote before that truth, no matter how painful, gives you choice. If he had come clean when it happened, might there have been a chance? Maybe not for the marriage, but for Maria to have created her own path simply because she could see the terrain clearly. But her husband kept it from her, obviously as an act of self-preservation. He came clean only after he stepped down from office. What a coward and a loser. He selfishly took years from her life. That is unforgivable.

I keep wondering why it's so difficult for men to keep their pants on. Is it not enough to think of their children? Clearly, it's never enough to think of their wives. But the kids. The kids and their inevitable heartbreak ought to be enough to pause and zip up. Really. And if not, then do the next best thing and man up!!! Tell the truth. It just makes life that much more bearable for all. Truth gives everyone dignity, and that is the first thing you take away from people you lie to. You make a mistake, fine, but offer the next best thing and come clean. Give the people you love and who have loved you selflessly, the right to choose the next step. They can only do that if they can see the full picture.

On the upside, I believe Maria will soar. Now that there is only truth around her, this courageous woman will sprout wings and be able to achieve so much more than she already has. My heart goes out to her, but I am so excited for the mark she will yet leave on the world.

YOU GO GIRL.

Another Great Virtual Event

The power of Sophia! Great women doing wonderful work towards transformation and it's all free. YAY!!! Make sure you register!

A New World

I have been spending a lot of time doing online courses and taking advantage of free webcasts that have to do with the planetary shift that we are clearly going through.  The frequency of earthquakes and natural disasters that wipe out entire towns, ending lives, foisting crisis upon crisis on humanity as we know it today, tells me that the shift is real and it is now. Others call it the Apocalypse, but I prefer The Shift. Anyone who lives consciously will know it's real.

Apart from world events, there seem to be pockets of violence and unrest alarmingly near us. I read about them in the papers, like our kababayans who are in death row as I write this, the recent wave of uproar over the treatment of a little boy on local television, the Senate hearings and our actions and reactions to it, murders, breaches of trust and security in our own neighborhoods--these are all part of this planetary movement that is bringing us to a place of greater human evolution.

There is a very involved online course coming up for those of you who are interested in being active participants in this shift.  I share it now if you are able and interested:





You can also listen to Barbara Marx Hubbard's teleseminar, Birth 2012: Co-creating a Planetary Shift,which is a great introduction to the course and gives a fantastic picture of the shift and how you can participate in it.

Times are changing and though there is much death, destruction and fear, there is a way through that is coherent, positive, life-changing and life-giving, where we can be agents of this change rather than passive victims of seemingly random events.

Isn't it wonderful that we have a choice?

Anybody Home?

I wrote this in May, 2002, but my good friend, Jeannie, recently asked for a copy.  It's still relevant. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for asking, Jeannie!

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I spend a lot of time emailing and texting.  At first glance, these electronic devices seem to be the best inventions of our time, but zoom in and they start to look like frighteningly inhuman substitutes for communication.  Email and text hasten the pace of life in a way that seems unnatural, even unnecessary.  Worse, I feel this type of communication is creating a new dimension in human relationships that is built on virtual space; where, in places of isolation, feelings of warmth and conviviality are cleverly mimicked and carelessly traded.

I often sit in front of my laptop and gape at the nature and content of letters I get from total strangers. The Internet seems to unleash a side of us that is completely unafraid to swap intimacies because, without a human witness, we feel protected--uncharacteristically bold—free to say things we normally wouldn’t; as if the things we say online and via text are not things we are completely responsible for but words we can let loose and then hide behind.

I know I am guilty of the same crime; that I have crossed boundaries I should not have.  I know that I have also fallen for the false illusion of intimacy and privacy from this one-dimensional screen that seems to have enticed an entire population to engage in virtual familiarity.  It has become too easy to start a correspondence with people you don’t know and then think you have genuine friendships going.  Pretty soon you expect certain names to appear in your mailbox and start to feel anxious when a day (horrors, a full day!) passes without so much as a forwarded joke from your newfound buddies.

Email and text operate on a whole new dimension of time, not unlike the tenuous world of credit where transactions are made upon the idea of money.  We can be with so many people simultaneously: discussing our children with their teachers, exchanging silly jokes with a friend, flirting with our boyfriends, commiserating with a sister—most likely when we are stuck in traffic en route to a real time, face-to-face appointment.  I wonder where this is taking human relationships. I worry about what it does to the natural rhythm of the human soul.

The only person, as far as I know, who has written anything about it is Robert Sardello in his book, “Freeing the Soul From Fear”:  The Internet, for example, seems to be a revolutionary technical achievement. No one thus far, however, has developed the imagination to look at it in terms of its impact on soul life.  While the Internet is touted as the greatest tool of communication since printing, it may well be a kind of double of communication.  Look at how much is erased by relating in cyberspace.  The body is excluded, the nuances of speaking eliminated, the importance of what is left unsaid, gone.  E-mail, for example, is not at all like writing a letter.  E-mailing is typically done in haste.  We expect an immediate answer. Communication has more or less been reduced to the transfer of information.

I think Sardello’s thoughts are worthy of an in-depth study on how email and text are transforming the ways in which we communicate and how that affects our relationships.  Electronic communication (the way people have come to depend on it) definitely has an impact on soul life—one that I perceive to be limiting, debilitating, life-extracting.  This one-dimensional communication allows us to enjoy a false sense of union with another yet frees us from the usual involvement and responsibility that real, life-nourishing relationships require.  Has anyone stopped to measure its price?

So much is lost in virtual communication; so much given away.  I know people who have shared intimacies online that cannot be duplicated in person, precisely because it is so glaringly one-dimensional. Most of the time it’s about projecting your feelings, mood, desires, emotions on another because you are the only living being in that space at that particular point in time.  The exchange, if it can be called that, is half-imagined.  All you have are words. Because you are accustomed to so much more, the tendency to let your own interpretation supply the rest is overpowering.

A friend was talking about a bad fight he had with his ex-wife.  He described her text.  Then his. Then the total misinterpretation party they had that inevitably ended in a shouting match.  They had completely misread each other’s one-dimensional responses, assigning malice where there might have been none; inviting the full force of years of resentment to ride on imagined venom. There’s the danger.  If you are of a certain mindset or emotional state, that flat screen can be a portal into communication hell.

It shouldn’t be a surprise then, that when you see someone you know mainly onscreen, you feel you are in front of a stranger, no matter how long and involved the emails you’ve exchanged. The gap between the person you imagined and the one before you is overwhelmingly vast. How many words would you have chosen not to say if you had that person before you as you typed your texts or emailed messages?  Quite a few I bet. You would have listened, watched and added the gestures, pauses, shifts and sighs into a comprehensive whole, before choosing to say something or nothing at all. 

Never mind those of us who have experienced a world before email and text. I worry more for the children and teenagers who are growing up with these electronic substitutes almost surgically attached to their fingertips.  I wonder what it is doing to their relationships, their ability to deal with people; to read, discern and judge their own feelings and those of the people in their lives.  I wonder about the long-term effects on their social development. I fear it is fragmenting their already fragile souls at a most confusing time in their lives; in this crucial time in humanity when we are being called, more than ever, to strive towards wholeness.

I’d like to think this is yet another challenge for us to be present; to make sure we are aware and alert behind the wheel. I suppose the trick is to cultivate a keen sense of who and where we are and what our purpose is, especially when we begin to lose ourselves in the rhythm of our keypads.  It is important that we take the lead; that we are not sucked into the dark by the electronic undertow; that we do not rely on these machines for the cultivation of friendship and love.  It might be helpful to remind ourselves that email and text are mere devices; conveniences not to be abused. 

The only human relationships that stand a chance in this world are those born and nurtured in human spaces, where expressions can be read and met with real-time responses.  Nothing can take the place of tenderness mirrored in the eyes of a beloved, a hint of imperfect smile, a reassuring touch on a tear-muddied cheek.

Next time you lose your phone or can’t retrieve your mail, relax. Flex your fingers, hold hands, look into someone’s eyes.  Take your soul out for a walk. It might be a great day yet.

Deep Breaths

Deep, coherent, measured breaths. You'll be amazed what this can do for you. I've been doing this, cultivating feelings of joy and appreciation as well and I know it has helped me deal with what's going on in the world.  The planetary shift is upon us in bigger, more radical waves and we can't be swayed by fear and hysteria, and that is difficult to do because we are facing monumental challenges. These challenges have a lot to do with humanity waking up to a new world--a new consciousness.  There is much death and destruction, but it is also a time for great renewal and creativity.

We can be co-creators of this change if we harness our inner resources.  In Japan, despite the destruction, people are coming together in such profound ways.  Food is being left on doorsteps, people are constantly checking on one another. Everyone is suddenly grateful for the little things they used to take for granted. Countries are coming together. Everywhere, people are reaching out to each other, which I firmly believe is exactly what is needed in order for the shift to take place more smoothly.

It will not be an easy ride, but if we keep working on ourselves and strengthening that in us which always prevails, we will be the bridge towards this new world.  Scary, yes, but also very exciting.

Those of us who have heart and home intact, would do well to redirect (if we haven't already) our lives and start living it out of our true purpose, whatever it is. There is not one more day to lose.

Deep breaths and march on!

Political Will!!!

Look at this!  I was so happy when I saw this at the Alabang Town Center yesterday.  This bread shop was closed apparently because it just went on using plastic. Hmmmph. I'm so glad the local government did this to show they mean business.

This is a good start and I hope that retail establishments do the right thing.  We already know that too much plastic--plastic bags, especially--harm the environment, yet many stores wait until there is a law to do something about it. There are stores that use paper bags in branches covered by this law, but who continue to use plastic in areas where there is no law. Bad. That's just plain moral laziness. We keep bickering about our government, but this is one instance where I feel they're doing a great job, but now the people have to get with the program.

Get with it!

WhiteSpace LOVE!

Activating Your Heart's Intelligence

                                            

I hope it's not too late to get you to jump on this. Here in Manila the course starts in a little over an hour, but I just got this in the mail yesterday and jumped on it. I believe this is the way of the future and I hope to catch you there.

THIS SUNDAY!!! DON'T MISS IT!!

Customer Service

I was at The Gap in Alabang this morning and the staff were talking about their personal lives, teasing each other and bantering, as if there were no customers. They were talking and laughing out loud and they were across each other, so that one had a sense there was a private party going on, from which we, the customers, were excluded. I noticed people coming in, browsing, looking at the salespeople, and then leaving. I left and went through Rustan's and it was the same story. A salesman was bickering to someone about how difficult it is to help people who are ungrateful in turn. Out loud. Really out loud and long.

In S&R, it was the same thing.  The cashiers were just talking to each other and ringing up my stuff as if I were invisible. It's the body language that bugs me, too. They're all animated in their eyes and smiles as they talk to each other, but sluggish in their limbs and bodies as they do their work.

Some will say that we ought to just leave them alone because they don't have the best jobs in the world, but I maintain that whatever job you have, you must make an effort to do well. I worked as a salesperson in the States, at different establishments, and I was too busy working all the time to be chatting my life away. Here, most establishments are so overstaffed; there's a lot of idle time for everyone and people tend to be sluggish and lazy because their work comes in fits and starts and then there's lots of time in between. To chat. Out loud.

If it's not the blaring music that drives you out, it's the gunfire chatting and blatant disregard of your presence. They will greet you, this much I will say, then they drag you into their virtual households and there you will stay until you remember all you wanted to do was shop.

TAGORE, RIZAL, STEINER