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.