Beautiful Balete at the Makati Circuit

Just to honor this old Balete tree inside the Makati Circuit where I used to jog every morning maybe five years or so ago because it's only recently that I recognised it to be a Balete tree.  I used to hover and stare at it when I went to take a look at the nearby Pasig river just a couple of steps away and those strange cargo boats passing by, I would turn around to find the tree, fascinated by its thick trunk that looked like roots or branches, wondering what it was, wanting to communicate to the tree because I, too, felt totally abandoned, cast off in that place. I wanted the tree to communicate to me and I never knew it was actually talking to me at that time and it's only now, years later, that I finally hear and understand.  I hope you thrive, beautiful Balete!

 

Dancing at Dusk at Makati Circuit

An afternoon at the Yuchenko Museum

Where I looked at the portrait of Jose Rizal painted by Felix Hidalgo, read the love letters of Leonor Rivera and was saddened to learn about their heartrending love story; contemplated upon some paintings by the masters Juan Luna, Ang Kiukok, Amorsolo and the contemporary exhibit of someone who appeared to be in a breakdown but had such an amazing art. (I'll tell you more about this later).

Roommate

They would always look for proofs and so, I would deliver these from the ceiling.  They would also ask for testimonies and in that case, I would bring them Carol dela Cruz who used to live in a room next to mine, who got fired by the call center where she worked so, she was spending long hours at the dorm watching TV at our common dining hall. Sometimes, I'd find her there, designing and stitching a gown for one of the roommates who was expecting a party with her Boss. I never knew she could sew but she said she can, her mother was a seamstress, she was born with a needle in her mouth and she grew up designing gowns and dresses. 
In fact, she was able to come up with a gown, using only her bare hands.  She didn't have a sewing machine at the dorm; no one was allowed to.  Even the volume of our clothes and other belongings was closely monitored by Big Brother. She had a boyfriend who flattered her exceedingly on her cell phone. Other people did not like her because sometimes she nagged the guard to change the container of the water dispenser, acting like a mayordoma of the place. The water dispenser already ran out of water (we were not allowed to change these, ourselves), so she scolded the guard, who was always sleepless and overworked and that was how she pissed off the rest of the roommates.
But when I was about to go to the airport, I dropped a hint that it would be perfect for her to accompany me. She was aware that I had been packing for days. That I never had enough sleep, that I never had breakfast nor lunch that day and that my flight was at 3 pm. That I was too tired from all the packing; that  I ended up throwing away my things because they would no longer fit into my luggage.  That I would have wanted to bring along my tumbler and my reading lamp and my mug as a souvenir of my stay at the place but still, I ended up throwing them because they wouldn't fit my luggage. I just made it a point never to throw away the books that I'd accumulated from my almost-two-year stay there and so, I sent them by courier.  The LBC girl who was so snotty and strict the previous day noticed that I kept coming back for more books to send, saw the haggard look on my face and suddenly turned gentle and helpful.
But I was simply too tired and too stressed out to go to the airport, I felt I would collapse.  "How about if you'd go with me? Just take a little stroll?" I asked Carol. "But I don't have any money for fare," she said. "Don't worry about that, I'd shoulder it," I said. That fired up her imagination and she said, "Okay, I just want to take a look at the airport."
She was a really heaven sent on our way to the airport. I swore I could never have lifted my heavy luggages, there were just too many of them, without her. I wouldn't have been able to negotiate with the people to carry our luggages down the dorm to the Grab taxi, I wouldn't have been able to spot the Grab, she was really a perfect Doña Carolina, everybody obeyed her; she was perfect for the role.  I was already crushing under the weight of my emotions but she was the one who brought us both to the nearest McDo at the airport to grab a bite. She even brought me to the chapel while I tried so hard to keep awake.

Crystal Memories

In one of my forays to the Legazpi Sunday Market, I once met the Crystal Woman.  She was tall and her rather blonde hair was loosely tied in a bun, some unruly strands falling on her face. She was wearing a faded blue cotton shirt; or, this might just be the way I remember her, I'm not really sure now.
Then, she talked about what she had in her hands in a loving, animated way, that everything around her seemed to dissolve and fade away.  I've been to other crystal shops before--including that one at the Makati Square or another more expensive one somewhere in Binondo--but because I really did not know much about crystals, their rugged edges and abnormal shapes, their shimmering colors and most of all, their staggering prices almost always intimidated me. How could I know the stones they purport to sell are real ones and not synthetically made? I stayed away because I can't keep my eyes off the price tags and I can't trust the voices that I hear.

But here I was, one Sunday morning in the mid of a leisurely crowd of condo dwellers, drawn to this towering Crystal Woman whose explanations were so down-to-earth, I can't help but gasp.  She had asked me if some of those crystals communicated to me, if I can feel their particular pull, I said I was drawn by the ones that were so clear and long but more expensive.  In a moment, I could sense her wanting to give those particular crystals to me. This perception lasted a minute and then, I could feel her going over me, trying to fathom if I was telling the truth about what I felt about her crystals. 
Then, she started talking about the Herkimer and it didn't take long for me to get convinced. "It's so small and yet, so powerful!" she said, putting such a tiny sparkling piece on her palm. "Don't ever underestimate the power of this small crystal!" 

When she handed it to me, she took a bell to cleanse it.  A bell to cleanse a crystal! This really blew me off.  She placed the crystal in the middle of my palm and sounded a bell to cleanse it. Really, it had that cleansing sound.  I could swear it cleansed my soul as well.
[Curiously now, I can't remember ever seeing the the shape of the bell. All I can remember was its sound--and what a cleansing sound!] 

The crystal had stayed with me through thick and thin inside the newsroom.  When I used to get close to an obnoxious energy, I would place the crystal on my palm or in my pocket and the obnoxious energy became bearable.  The crystal worked in a very subtle way.  It worked in the in-between of things so that you could not really claim without a doubt that what you perceived was its work was actually its work. But it worked the way it did with the obnoxious thing (or person) and you begin to wonder why. 

I can't forget my first encounter with the Crystal Woman. Somehow, it changed me somewhere. She made me perceive things in a different light.  She made me think of the energy I encounter and to make good use of energy. She still stayed in my mind somehow.  Sometimes, when I think of Legazpi, I would think of her.  I also think of bumping into her one of these days and when the comes, to talk to her, soul-to-soul.
That day I talked to her, I saw the worried glance on her staff's face when she began explaining things to me.  The staff tried to interpret her sentences, thinking I wouldn't understand her language. But her language transcended human speech and so, when the staff saw that I was entering her world, she slowly retreated away, leaving me and the Crystal Woman alone.
Now, I'm saying this as if there was only me and the Crystal Woman in the whole Legazpi market that Sunday.  Of course, there were lots of other people. One of the listeners, a man with a strong, commanding voice, flaunted his knowledge about crystals, trying to impress her.  This somehow turned her off.
She said she was giving yoga lessons somewhere in Batangas but she said she was getting too busy taking care of her daughter to continue those lessons.  She said she was calling off those lessons soon. I wouldn't be able to attend those lessons, anyway.  I had a hard time going out of Makati on weekdays.  

But her crystal had stayed with me until it got lost one day in our foray with Ja to Samal Island.  The date that it got lost seemed to be a reminder to me about the things that I've forgotten.  [O, crystal, can you just speak to me in a more straightforward manner, please?]
When it got lost, I was so upset that I kept sending it a distressed message. Then, somehow, it shot back its crystal clear message to me: rest now, everything would be okay. 
Thank you, crystal, wherever you are, rescue me when things get so murky here! 

Sunset by the Pasig River

Walking in Makati

Last night, a woman stopped her car in the middle of the street to talk to me.  I was walking home on Pasong Tamo, lost in thought, when I heard a  car stop and a voice calling out,  “Where’s Guijo, can you help me?

” I looked up to see a white car, and bending forward from the  driver’s seat, a woman , her hair silhouetted by the soft glow of the city lights, asking for direction.  “It’s somewhere there,” I said, waving my hand to where she just came from. For although I can’t tell exactly the exact location of the street she was looking for,  I was pretty sure it was not where she was headed.

Have I gone past it? she asked with a sigh.  I nodded sympathetically. “I think so.”

 “How about Bagtikan?” the woman asked again.  I threw her a glance which said I was as lost as much as she was.  “It’s one or two blocks away, I think,” I said, gesturing again. “Though, I could not tell you exactly where, it’s there.”    

The encounter was brief and noncommittal and yet it was for me a deep human connection.  If you spend a large part of your day feeling invisible, lost, to be asked for a direction and to have an answer that is readily accepted would be enough to feel good. Getting lost is part of a life here; this is a city of lost people like me; a city of transients; a city where nothing stays the same, including its buildings.

Chrismas shift at the newsroom

This was the second Christmas I spent inside the newsroom. Many things were happening in the regions, so, we could hardly look up from our desk to consider what day it was.  Three days before, Vinta made landfall on Cateel, Davao Oriental; and had badly hit the provinces of Zamboanga del Norte, Lanao del Sur and Lanao del Norte, and we had to keep track as the stories--and the numbers--kept coming.  It was not until I was about to go out hours before Christmas Eve that I noticed the many gifts  gathering at the bottom of the staircase and remember what they meant. I said goodbye to the guards and the last few people left behind.  Everybody was asking where I was going and what I would be doing during the next happy hours! I went out as fast as I could, my heart beating fast. How I loved to be alone with my thoughts and my readings at the strike of Christmashour!  Merry Christmas belated!

Selfie

Lyca, April and I went to the Century Mall to watch Emma Watson's performance in the Beauty and the Beast but were flustered when we found out the movie house  already ran out of tickets.   Deeply let down, we ambled about the building, taking as much selfies as we can.

Setting sight on something

Like Life Itself

It's the stairway I climb everyday. Just like life itself, it goes round and round and round in a never ending spiral. 
Yet, every time I climb it in the morning, I don't actually see it the way I'm seeing it now.  In the morning, I take it only one step at a time. All I see are the nearest steps before me, and the rails leading me to a slowly curving ascent, so slight and so gradual that I almost could not feel it. It's only upon looking down from the nth floor above that I get a glimpse of its shape below. Just like the series of days and nights that eventually form the seasons, and the seasons that gather into a year and the years that eventually form a lifetime, we hardly perceive them at first until we've gone a long way and we start looking back.