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?

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.

TURN IT DOWN!!!

Seriously, how loud does everything have to be?  At a dinner with friends Friday night, we talked about how often we have to ask for music to be turned down everywhere we go--from stores, to coffee shops and restaurants, everything has become unbearably noisy.

I entered a watch store a few weeks back and couldn't get the attention of any of the salespeople. They were staring vacantly, yet absently moving along with the deafening beat. They were in slow motion. I was trying to ask a question and was motioning to my ears and they still didn't get it. I finally yelled, "CAN YOU PLEASE TURN DOWN THE MUSIC ?" Yes, it was that loud. Very, very loud. They looked at me as though I were a crazy villainess and grudgingly slow motioned to wherever the controls were. They adjusted the volume so minutely that I just gave up and walked out.

On a recent trip this summer, D. and I marvelled at how nice and quiet the malls were. You can actually think while you shop and enjoy walking without feeling so assaulted. Here, I zip in and out and have learned to stay away from noisy places.  If I'm hearing the music from outside, I know it's going to be unbearable inside. Forget it.

Really, how loud does it need to be? Until there are laws that protect our hearing, I'm going to keep asking everyone to please turn it down.

TURN IT DOWN!

The Inner Condition

I've been thinking about this a lot, especially since August 23. We look to the outside too much and pay hardly enough attention to what goes on inside us.

I had a run in with someone who calls himself a healer a few months back. First, the man was difficult to reach and never responded. Our mutual friend said it was because he was always losing his phone. Already then I felt a twinge of alarm. It sounded like he was all over the place and didn't have his act together.  I'm not sure that bodes well for someone who works in the realm of health. But, like I always do, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and try again.

This time the response was swift. He asked me to fill up quite involved questionnaires. They were so involved that I put them aside, especially since there was a lot going on in my household at the time. Finally,  when things settled, I got everything done and called him back. His replies were so negative. He said that he couldn't believe how long it took me to reply and the image of a mother who can't even put aside an hour while her children are very sick is disturbing. He went on to make other assumptions that came from left field--that perhaps my husband was against homeopathics and if that were the case, why there are so many articles that support the work--blah, blah, blah. He was offensive and judgmental at the very least. That, to me, is NOT a healer. A healer includes and makes whole. He doesn't divide and puncture. We hadn't even started and he was already all over the place with his negativity and unfounded conjectures. It was very clear to me that I could not allow him into my family life.

In the interest of being objective and impartial, we have made it our practice to ignore the inner condition of people. But as I get older, I find that I am more and more interested in that because in the end, that is what informs everything.  What we experience outside comes from there and I cannot put a person's inner condition separate from everything else. That healer was toxic. I cannot put my family's health in his hands. I can no longer say, well, he has personal issues but maybe his work will stand. No more. I've learned over and over again that it is an indivisible whole. Especially in the realm of health, it simply cannot be.

When we begin to understand, recognize and practice seeing the whole rather than the parts, I believe our lives will be made simpler, richer and our paths so much clearer. What is inside always manifests outside.

What's Up With That?

After years of initiatives and having to deal with charging fees for workshops and lectures, I have come to the painful conclusion that Filipinos need to come into a healthier relationship with money. Our view is one of scarcity and fear. Mind you, I understand that, because I also have that in me, but I am conscious of it and try to work towards an attitude of abundance.

In the last two lectures we organized, we pegged the price at P500 and then P200 for teachers and students. We used to have a "pay what you can" policy but always ended up with too many people not paying at all, or paying so little, even if they could clearly afford to put their money towards the extras like t-shirts and snacks. So, enough of that. We all know by now that Pinoys need boundaries, so it's better to set the fee.

Well, it's funny the things you learn about people and their attitude towards money. Even those who can afford the fee, will try to pay the lower fee. Others sneak in and evade paying completely. And I know every one of them. There were those I told point blank, and they nodded and pretended to be called away and never came back. Others just came in, sat, and just left. Quickly. Well, some I let go because I couldn't keep track and also I just believe in karma anyway, but those I could keep track of got a text message today. I have yet to receive evidence that I have not been ignored. A dear lady gave extra and told me not to give her change as she wanted to donate it. She also received a message of profound gratitude for that gesture of consciousness and uprightness.

They came to hear someone share his life's work. There is value to that and clearly everyone took from it. Well, the money you pay to hear him is recognition and support of his work, from which you take and that is just. You pay what you can. By contributing financially to this lecture that YOU decided to partake of, at the level you can truly afford, you are acknowledging the speaker's hard work, his wisdom, and everything that you are receiving from it. You are also putting value on what you are receiving from his sharing.

As for me, the gloves are off. I find that I also have difficulty being forthright in asking, face to face, for what is due. So I acknowledge that I have a part in enabling this abhorrent and selfish behavior. I'm getting better at it, but I still need to be able to do it for those who keep trying to escape. The bottom line is, if you do not want to give, then please do not take.

Money is energy and what will return to you will be equal to what you put out. I find solace in that. Those who refuse to put out, even though they can, will also be on the receiving end of stinginess and contraction. Never expansion. Yup, there is much solace in that.

Unplugged

That's what we were forced to be, thanks to storm Basyang.  It's weird how naked we feel without our phone (I had to charge mine in the car), computer, and other gadgets. I was out of sorts for the first hour or so, before I hit my unplugged stride.

It was a good day for art and spring cleaning. My son and I did wet-on-wet painting, and I did my paintings over and over again until I got them dark and vibrant enough, then I decided to organize the bookshelves. Kids have a way of taking books out of the shelves and returning them wherever so that over time, like anything untended, it becomes a mess. Well, I got that sorted today so the next time they ask me for a book they can read, I know exactly where to go.

It's night time now and obviously I'm plugged again, but I have to say it was nice to be really quiet again, to be present and active in things that truly make a life.

To Kindle or Not to Kindle ?

Isn't that the question? I love to read and by that I don't mean that I love stories. I LOVE BOOKS. I love the way they feel and smell, the very act of turning a page, the sense of accomplishment and sadness of seeing how close you are to finishing a story, the anticipation of the next chapter, looking forward to getting back into the story at the end of the day--I love it all.

I also feel that books ought be shared. I love passing on good reads to friends and receiving the same from them. In this way, the Kindle seems so selfish. How can you pass it on? And yet, it does save a ton of paper. It's incredibly portable. You don't have to brave traffic to go to the bookstore only to find that the title you want is not available. Still...I can't imagine not holding a book!

There was a time I loved collecting books. I enjoyed looking at shelves and shelves and shelves of my books. Today, I give away novels yearly. I think that's a more responsible kind of ownership or, perhaps, stewardship. It's also a way for your purchase to be not just about you and your reading pleasure, but about sharing the joy of reading with others.

A few days ago, a friend emailed an article about Bookcrossing. I have been looking for something like this for years! Because of Bookcrossing, I've decided to hold off on the Kindle, yet again. I like the idea of having my books travel the world. I like the idea of sharing books with total strangers with whom you share nothing but a passion for books and stories.

Books are not just about reading. How they have changed hands, absorbed a tear or a drop of coffee, been hurled at a wall in anger--they are stories in themselves. I will try to keep books alive by being a part of this book-sharing community. I'm not saying no the Kindle just yet, but I remain fiercely loyal to books and all they mean.

How does it move through you?

Each time I open my mailbox or Facebook, I am inundated with requests for help. How do you choose which initiative to give to? At what point do you stop?

These are questions I have been living with since the typhoon hit. I give by feel. If there is a person I know and trust at the other end of the initiative, I will give there. If it is an initiative that causes a sudden swelling of my heart, I give there. But now I have chosen just one or two that I would like to see through, also because I want to focus. No one can save the world alone and we have to trust that others are doing their share where they are needed.

I think I may have overdone it this time, judging from the thudding in my heart each time I realize I've left this or that bill unpaid, but I simply have to trust that by giving towards the improvement and healing of our country, I have made a sound and wise investment.

There was a significant amount of money I had to let go of recently because it was claimed by someone else. I had thought it was meant for me, but with all the inhuman behavior around it, I knew it would be folly to insist on taking it. To me, it is about energy and intention. It isn't just money.

As I age, I am beginning to realize the true nature of money. It is energy. It is supposed to flow. This doesn't mean one behaves irresponsibly and gives everything away, but I'm coming to the understanding that it is better used, out there, moving, than sitting in the bank doing nothing. There are many ways for your money to move as it should and I find that when you give, you realize you have more room to give where you thought you didn't before. Spaces open up when you are awake and conscious about the true value of money and what it is supposed to do in the world.

Ondoy has opened up spaces in our hearts and homes that were not there before. I've cleaned out my closet three times, and each time I thought I had given to the max. My children have given away clothes they still wear because they know they have more than what they need.

The challenge today is to begin to live even more simply and to make sure that whatever money we have moves through the world as well. When you put your money in initiatives that matter in the world, you are making an investment that is wide, deep and from the heart. No bank can give you that.

Happy Days

I've been listening to a lot of music lately, something I don't normally do because I'm a big fan of quiet, but since Ondoy....well...the world has changed. A part of me puts one foot in front of the other each day, but a big one reaches towards the past, looking for memories of a simpler world. The world of Burt Bacharach.

I just love him.

A GOOD READ

I stumbled upon this book last week, on a day when I needed it most. I was struggling over a violent attack to my soul and spirit.

I found this book right across the check out counter shortly after the attack and I felt redeemed and strong again, knowing I behaved in an upright fashion.

Go to the bookstore and get a copy. It was grace finding it that day. I thought I'd share it with you.

COMFORT

Last week, I resolved to cook a full recipe of Chicken Marbella. The original recipe is for four chickens, which I rightly thought would be too much for my family of four. Part of me felt it was a little extreme, but then it's a dish that keeps well, so I decided to go whole hog. I cook with free-range spring chicken, so I settled for five, all the while feeling I was cooking for a village.

The day I was all set to put the two-and-a-half pyrexes into the oven, I had an encounter with a bully which left me feeling quite sorrowful, deflated, disappointed and angry. I didn't even know if I could--or should--eat. But motherhood means keeping the space together for everyone and not indulging in your emotions--if you can help it--in front of the children. So that's what I did.

When we finally sat down to dinner, I looked at the festive dish in front of me and suddenly felt truly comforted. Bullies try to make you feel bad about yourself, but the yummy spread in front of me, the joy of my little boys (not to mention their gratitude for the meal before them), put everything back in perspective. I was so happy I decided to cook a big meal, that I decided to cook it that day, and that I had a friend who shared the recipe a few months back. I was suddenly so grateful for all the things that matter. I felt all that even before I took my first bite!

Just google "Chicken Marbella" and the recipe will show up somewhere. It's a lovely comfort food. May it serve you as well as it served me!

SUNDAYS

It's a beautiful Sunday morning where I am. Everything feels green and sunny and for the first time in a very long time, I feel rested and able to sink comfortably into the quiet.

Some people feel lonely when it's quiet and the children are away, but I have learned to accept these moments of solitude with gratitude. I miss my children when they are away with their father, but I know that the time away from them is a time to gather energy, laughter, smiles, patience, a quick and ready sense of humor--all the things I seem to run out of in the course of mommying.  As a full-time mother, especially during the summer when the children are home all day long, you get quiet where you can and thank the universe for it.

Deep silence is the source of all the invisible forces that give us strength.  I know this because each time I feel stretched beyond my limits, I hunt it down and drink from it. Silence is so difficult to come by these days.  You don't even know it but everyday there is a steady hum from all the household appliances, the vibrations of vehicles on the road, all kinds of sounds permeating our environment.  We don't realize how inundated we are until all that sound suddenly dissipates to a level of quiet that I can only describe as Sunday-quiet. Every other day the air hums with life and activity, but on this last day before the week begins again, you feel a quality of stillness that isn't there on other days. This is why I love Sunday mornings. I hear more of the natural world on this day--the birds near and far, the air as it rushes through the trees, and sometimes even sunbeams, creeping through my curtains and resting on my floor. 

This morning I woke up to the realization that Sundays at home are best and I am thankful for knowing it and having it.