HEARTBREAK

I was watching heartbreak at close range very recently. It was difficult to see; the strength of it made me want to look away.  It was so palpable, so very fresh still.

I was asked a lot of questions and so had to think through certain things with a view I wish I had many years ago. When the big love of your life can no longer be, what then? First: life goes on. The worst thing about it is you don't actually die. You think you will every hour, but you don't. Somehow, you continue to live. When you have children that is very easy to do. You have to. You get up in the morning, make an effort to create rhythm and love for them, even if you barely know how to do it all. You laugh still, but it doesn't seem to come from your belly or your heart, maybe your spleen, your liver? You are alive but you are not. But you manage. You get through one meal and then the next, sleepless nights turn to good-sleep nights and before you know it, time has passed.  But do you really heal?

I believe we all heal, with a lot of work, anger, grief, acceptance, time and love, we all do.  But I also feel that we must remember that our hearts are not the sum of that one love and that one love ought not define future loves.  In one life and in that one heart are unfathomable, still unexplored possibilities. Will we ever stop loving one person? Perhaps not completely. We may develop other feelings for them--not all of them good or healthy--but in time that love evolves as well, into something different.  As it should.

But our hearts are big, creative and alive enough to enable us to love others and love differently.  I do not believe you can love the same way ever again--and perhaps we shouldn't, so there is no point comparing.  We are evolving everyday and so everything about us changes. It is healthy to look forward and ahead and use our past only as firm ground for the journey ahead.

Heartbreak, in any form, can be a straight road towards our greater humanity and that's why it is so painful. After that, you can never be the same.  On this often unplanned journey, you plunge into the very depths of darkness, just like the Christ did, and then begin your own pilgrimage towards your center again--that place in you that carries the most light.  A heart that is broken and healed shines so much brighter than one that is whole and unsullied, because it has more cracks through which light and sun and joy can enter!  It knows more, feels more, grieves more, laughs more. It is just more! A resurrected heart gives more.

I think about the picture of pain I witnessed and feel so very deeply for that person but also am excited for the possibilities in his life.  He will never again be the same, but if he learns what he needs to learn and is able to understand and transform his deepest pain, I am so sure his life will be so much richer. It may seem impossible now, but there is light at the end of that tunnel. 

Once you find your way out of the rut and into that space of total understanding, you will never again be so weak and discouraged.  It's like decoding a language and unlocking one of life's greatest mysteries. Once you have the key, most of life's doors will be open to you.  So, yes, there is much light after heartbreak and it can be quite dazzling!

MANAGING SPACE

How do you hold space?  I developed a sense and awareness of this when I became a mother. Children need you to hold the space around them in a conscious way.  When the children are very little and are acting up, a conscious mother will look within, gather herself and try to "hold the space" in a different way so that the children feel the shift and manifest the subtle movement in their behavior.  And they mostly do.

I think about this again because I am just coming out of attending a flurry of lectures, workshops and masses and the importance of "holding space" became more and more apparent over the weeks. During our masses or services, for example, some people would enter the room and sit in the silence, preparing themselves for what was to come.  And then others would come in and begin to whisper loudly, text, fidget, thereby creating cracks in the stillness that others were trying to hold in and around themselves in preparation for the Sacrament.  What was their perception of that space and how did each person choose to hold himself in it?

At another lecture, people were coming in and out, standing, sitting, shifting, taking things from the little refrigerator behind the speaker, and generally treating the space and what was happening in it,  in what I personally felt was a rather casual approach. 

This is also why I hate being late.  During one of these lectures, traffic was impossible. I am always early or on time but traffic was heavier than heavy that day and it took us nearly two hours to get to Makati from home. So I walked into the lecture 30 minutes late and I really felt I broke into something that was already being formed by the speaker and everyone who managed to come on time and were holding this space in silence, for thoughts and pictures to flow through.  When you agree to be part of something, what are you truly responsible for? The minute we say "yes" to something, we become part of it. It is not just the speaker's task, for example, to ensure that he does his part. It is our task to create the right space to receive what is being offered, not just for ourselves but for the others who have taken it upon themselves to be part of the activity.

A room is more than just a physical space.  Events can be celebrated more deeply if people who participate in them carry this intention of "holding space" with reverence, respect, quiet, consciousness, and inner strength.  It is a sign of respect for the space and what everyone in it is trying to bring forth.  It is also a conscious way of building community as it can only happen if we are all aware of each other and are willing to carry each other through.

BIRTHDAYS

I have been trying to instill in my children a way of celebrating life's milestones that is simple and heartfelt.  In this age of "more" and "big", I feel that it is the parents' task to show the way towards "enough" and "just right"--to give presents that bring joy but also not to overdo it and have the birthday be about the accumulation of material things.

It is not as easy as it seems as others are oblivious to this call.  In today's context, it seems we have lost our sense of how to celebrate. No matter how hard I try, my children end up having more of a birth-month than a birth-day, what with people surprising them with their own versions of celebrations and presents trickling in.  Before you know it the day itself is long gone but vestiges of misplaced sentiments abound. I have encouraged relatives from far away to send a card rather than an actual present, because it's good for the kids to get wishes that are not accompanied by presents, but I don't always get my way. 

In today's world of too much, we really have to think of our every action for the sake of our children.  We have to ask ourselves what birthdays really mean and how we would like our children to view the passage of time, their coming into being, their sense of what their lives are about. Whenever I hear about lavish birthdays for little children, I cringe.  What is that really teaching the child about himself and the world?  One has only to think of the expense and already something feels terribly wrong, already a picture of a very material world is presented to them and there they are, in the middle of all the attention.  

I have only celebrated "big" twice in my conscious life: at sixteen, which doesn't really count, and then again at 35, when I was at the threshold of a monumental change.  I had my then closest friends around me and some family members whom I felt had always seen and respected me for who I was.  We weren't even 30 all together, so by current standards it wasn't even big.  But the celebration was about something--not just about me celebrating my birthday--but a conscious coming out of my authentic self.  It was the year after 9/11 and I felt I simply could not live my life the same way anymore.  So I celebrated.  I didn't know then that I had opened the door to my future.  My life today shows what it was I so needed to birth.

I want my children to have a sense of celebrating from deep within them and I want them to know it need not and should not be extravagant.  I personally blow up their balloons the night before their birthdays and I delight in the effort!  I don't fill up the whole house with them, nor do I do anything elaborate.   I always have flowers, candles, and a birthday story or verse the night before and the morning of the special day.  But I never have hordes of people we don't know or a table dedicated to presents they might receive. There are no food carts or extravagant giveaways somebody else assembles for me.  Never that. We recognize that the day is special.  It is a remembering and a looking forward.

I never celebrate BIG and truly have difficulty participating in such events.  On my 35th birthday, the closest I came to giving a speech was reading something I had written as my friends, family and I sat around my garden.  It was a life-altering statement of where I needed to go from that day forward--in truth, always.  A friend sang for me and my other friends joined in.  But I didn't plan to have a show.  I needed to do that then and I think, for my life, that will probably be the last of such a public celebration.  It needed to be then and it is done.

Today I find that as my birthday approaches, I ask more questions that have to do with my life's task--how much have I accomplished and what am I creating in the world? What do my footprints look like?  Have I created a path or have I muddied the way? I find that the older I get, my birthday has less and less to do with me.  

In this day and age of multi-dimensional crises, may we all find our way towards celebrations that are true and "enough" and may our children learn that their lives are not just about them. 

IMAGINE THAT

Eleven years ago today I became a mother for the first time. Before I became pregnant with Santiago, I was not sure I wanted to have children. I knew it was going to be difficult and that my life would not be the same, but after a long and unexpectedly difficult labor and birth, there he was.  My heart exploded, expanded and suddenly encompassed the world.  Until then, I did not know I had so much love in me. I was forever changed. Everything I have done since, I have done for him and, four years later, his brother Andres.

Every July 20, I celebrate both my son's birthday and my initiation into motherhood and infinite womanhood, because that is what it really is.  Nothing can stretch and shape you more than your children. Santiago is my teacher in so many ways.  He is sensitive, intense, incredibly intelligent, funny, and will not survive without a book. He is also the one who made me realize how much anger I carried within me and demanded that I recognize it.  Our children see and magnify that in us which needs to be worked through and will act and react to it until we have found the courage to face it.

There are days when I wonder how God could have possibly thought I could be a mother when I mostly fumble and err, then I count the passing of the years and am astounded that we are all still standing strong in love and joy despite our many trials.  At night when both my boys--no matter the strong and detached front they show me during the day--reach up to me for their nightly hugs and kisses, I am still amazed that they chose me despite my many weaknesses.

It is this faith and trust I feel I must live up to.  It is what pushes me to engage in the world and continue my life's task in PAGASA.  Eleven years ago today, I was born into the world of consciously living for others and despite the deluge of trials, I can only feel gratitude in my heart for the honor and privilege of having these two little boys to journey with.

MOI? POLITICS? NEVER!!!

At least that's what I said many years ago when an astrologer told me I would be part of a political force in the country. I naturally dismissed it because I assumed she was saying I would be in government.  Eleven years later,  I see what she meant.  I am still not in politics and still have no interest in running for office, but I am part of a cultural force that is addressing the political realm. That's very different from being "in politics".

That is what my work is with PAGASA.  I'm writing this because we had a PAGASA process for my children's school and I heard that a parent didn't participate because she thought it was "Panjee's foundation that had to do with politics".  PAGASA is a cultural movement that aims to create change in society by helping individuals realize how they are connected to the larger picture.

I understand why people are allergic to the word politics: it's ugly, dirty, and corrupt.  But our looking and staying away is also what allows it to become so. This doesn't mean we necessarily have to become politicians, but it does mean we have to become aware of the role we play in the larger society-- whether we like it or not, whether we move directly in the sphere of politics or not.  

I've been hearing some people speak about how ordinary, good citizens have to be bold and courageous enough to enter politics in order for change to take place in government.  But is that all that is needed?  We already know that the system--ancient and corrupt to the gills--is problematic and has a tendency to devour even the purest of soul and intention.  It is not enough to be good.  One must go in there with a full understanding of the complexity of the whole and with the inner strength that comes also with a full understanding of who he is as an individual, human being and Filipino.  You cannot go in there just with prayers, high hopes, and the best of intentions.

There are some civilians who are joining the political fray. I've heard some of them speak and though they are claiming to be bringing something new, they sadly still reek of traditional politics.  They speak and act like them, even though what they're saying may be different -- for now.  But when I listen to them, I know I cannot possibly vote for them.  I look at them, listen to what they're saying, how they're going about the change and I know that what they bring is not enough. 

It is our role as citizens of this country to engage in it fully. This doesn't mean running for office.  It means making an effort to understand the full picture and see how we fit and, therefore what we can do to effect change.  Because it is not a hopeless situation.  It is only hopeless when we give up or refuse to acknowledge the hope because we know that the situation demands something of each one of us.  We cannot live in oblivion and keep complaining.  We cannot keep pretending that we are not part of that muddy place called politics.  We are, for as long as we are citizens and residents of this country.  As long as the laws they make affect us, we are.  As long as the corruption keeps taking away what is rightfully ours, we are. We are part of the whole.

"There can be no tyrants where there are no slaves", that's what Jose Rizal said.  In today's context, we are the slaves by virtue of our silence and inaction.  We do not have to be angry all the time.  We do not have to go out into the streets again if that really does not resonate anymore.  But we do have to engage by trying to understand what all of this means in the history of our country and what it is asking of us today, especially if we brought children into this society who will one day inherit the mess.

PAGASA is one way of understanding the complexity of the situation and hopefully finding our place in it that we can move, heal and bring forward. Our children are depending on us to make their world right.  We cannot but rise to the challenge.

DISCERNMENT

That word is rife with meaning in our world of too much info.  Google anything and out comes a plethora of words, photos, reviews, ratings, videos, blogs, you name it. There's a lot of crap about me on the internet and I used to want to wring the neck of irresponsible people who just automatically think any information is accurate and needs to be disseminated.  But I'm calmer about that now as I know I don't really need to lift a finger for the same kind of energy to find its way back to them.

I've also received too much junk in my email about all kinds of things.  The latest assault came with disturbing graphic photos and the accompanying advice to wash newly bought underwear before wearing them because of flesh-eating bacteria that caused all kinds of terrible lesions and infections. First, that's common sense.  Please wash anything new before wearing it.  Next, how can we confirm that those photos were authentic, or that there's even an underwear-borne flesh-eating bacteria? I mean, really.  We have to be responsible about the information we unleash out there.

When I pointed out the above to the sender--someone I don't know but whose name and junk keep appearing in my mailbox--she said she didn't send me the junk and her mail was addressed to someone else, another person I didn't know.  Horrors!  Which brings me to my next point:  if you don't know the person, do not put them in your mailbox or feel you can keep sending them junk. Anonymity does not equal intimacy.  It is the opposite.  Online, we have to erect firm, inward boundaries and abide by them.

I have a few people in my circle who just love to forward junk. I simply ignore, ignore, ignore and really only answer personal email. In this world of "too much" what is needed is a clear path to less, to strive to be lean in everything--getting and imparting just what is needed, or just what is asked. The game is not about acquisition but discernment. 

Finally, this week, a friend forwarded a very strange and obviously bogus email from my mom, saying she was stranded in Africa somewhere and would need funds.  What was more surprising than the email were people's responses--doubt. "Is this for real?", they asked, when I took one look at it and knew it was bogus simply because of the content, tone, and flavor of the letter and not just because I knew my mother was in Makati.  I even got a text from someone I didn't really know saying it was urgent and she needed to speak with me about my mother. But I was in the middle of a workshop and instantly felt it might be related to the email.  I figured if there were a real emergency someone I knew would be calling me or Dale nonstop. During the break I asked if it might be about the bogus email and, indeed, that's what it was.  I would have been very upset if I had been interrupted because of that. Still I wondered why they even thought to check with me. Out of concern, perhaps, and I am grateful, but I still found the email so glaringly fake and immediately saw it for the scam that it was. But I had to laugh when I sent my mother a message saying I had read the email and she assured me she was in Makati and I needn't worry.  Even she gave it weight.

The Internet is a great tool, but like all modern conveniences, we must learn to use it responsibly.

Where Did The Time Go?

Wow. I can't believe how much time has passed since my last entry. Lots. I remember when I did my writing at night or on weekends, but now I seem to just pass out at the end of the day, at the first possible time.  My weekends have been largely spent on PAGASA, which has really taken on a life of its own, which brings me such joy and hope because it is clear that so many Filipinos are ready to be the change today. But of course it also leaves me slightly breathless and exhausted and needing more down time.  Used to be that my weekends were time for rest, but now they are when my work happens and then I jump into Monday when the bigger, physical, emotional, spiritual, cosmic work of being a mother begins again full blast. I often wonder how I manage but when the work is urgent and meaningful, everything seems to fall into place. Time collapses and you seem able to keep going despite your idea of your limitations. 

I have one more workshop coming this weekend, but I am inching my way back to my artistic home--writing--and I hope to be able to share more soon.