encore: ANG MAHIWAGANG BAG (para kay SONIA at lahat ng mga NANAY namin sa LANGIT at sa LUPA)

Para itong botika, maraming lamang gamot (Biogesic pang sakit ng ulo at sinat, Diatabs pag nagtatae, Neozep pag humahaching, Mefanamic Acid pag masakit ang ipin). Meron ding Vicks, White Flower, Tiger Balm, Shampoo, toothpaste, pamahid na kung anu-ano at sabon.

Para itong beauty parlor, maraming kolorete (may make-up kit, lip gloss, lip balm, lip stick, cologne, eye shadow, eye liner, Eye-Mo, rollers, nail cutters at polvo).

Para itong sari-sari store (may kendi, chicklet, polvoron, mamon, Cheepy, minsan ay mayroon ding lighter at yosi, posporo at isang tambak na mga resibo, suki card, discount coupons at listahan ng pamalengke).

Para itong tool box (may gunting na de tiklop, screw driver, blade, perdible, paper clip, maliit na stapler, flash light at mga butones na extra).

Kasya rito ang maraming bagay. Walang 'di matatagpuan dito na 'di makakatulong kahit kanino, kahit saan, kahit anung oras. Sagot ito sa lahat ng kirot at angal at prublema ng lahat.

Ito ang bag ni nanay.

Ito ang kanyang buhay.

Parang isang mahiwagang bag.

Para ito sa ating lahat.

Bitbit n'ya ito palagi. Bawal masagi. Walang paki-alam kung nakakasagi. Napakahalagang katabi n'ya ito palagi. Parang bunsong kinakalong sa jeep; parang amigang ka-chismisan na may sariling upuan pag nasa restawran.

Pag dating ng hapon, pag uuwi na ng bahay, ang mahiwagang bag ay nagiging unan ni nanay. Dinarantayan ng ulo habang nakasiksik sa FX o bus o tren at duo'y saglit na inihihimlay ang pagod ng maghapon.

Ito ang bag ni nanay.

Ito ang kanyang buhay.

Mabigat ang bag ni nanay.

dala-dala nito ang ating buhay.

Tignan mo ang mukha ng nanay mo. 'wag mo na lang pansinin ang mga eye bags n'ya na minsan ay halos kasing laki na rin at kasimbigat ng mahiwagang bag na dala dala n'ya araw araw.

Tignan mo ang magandang mukha ng iyong nanay at sabihin mo sa kanya:
IKAW ANG PINAKAMAGANDANG NANAY SA BALAT NG.........(your address here)!
BIYAYA KA NG DIYOS SA AMING BUHAY! DALA MO SA BAG MO ANG AMING MGA BUHAY! PINASASALAMATAN NAMIN ANG DIYOS DAHIL IKAW ANG AMING NANAY!
MAHAL NA MAHAL KA NAMIN NANAY!

ANASTASIS (A Mid-Easter Octave Reflection on the Mystery of Christ's Descent into Hell)

Easter Monday morning, a quick trip back to my bed after the morning Mass. This was a time I intended for some extended stay under the sheets, air-conditioner in full blast, in a thoroughly darkened room. My plan immediately failed as I was rudely awakened by a frantic call from the guard post, the voice at the other end panting and garbled, as he cautiously asked if I could attend to a very urgent request from some Baranggay officials to bless, according to them, a lifeless, fully developed fetus they have unearthed from beneath the neighborhood garbage heap at 14th avenue. Grudgingly, I dressed up and hurried to the site where they have placed the lifeless, little angel, only to be met by a most revolting sight: it was not just a fully-developed fetus as they have reported just a short while back. It was a tiny human being, which by the time I saw it, was already bluish-green, the color of bile, carelessly wrapped with a dirty, brown, striped t-shirt, with a dotted, Navy Blue handkerchief tightly wound around the baby's delicate and fragile neck. By the looks of it, the infant seems to have undeniably died of strangulation a few hours after its birth, most probably, during midnight of the previous day.

I was simply stunned and paralyzed where I was standing. But I have to summon enough courage to overcome my revulsion and lead everyone in that hall into an anguished plea to God for mercy and aid for the hapless victim, as well as a cry to bring to justice those who might be responsible for the atrocity.

Early morning of Tuesday I was at Precinto Uno in del Pan, Tondo, celebrating Mass right inside the decrepit jail, with about fifty inmates, half of them juvenile and underage, and a handful of police officers who don't seem to pay attention at all to what I and the three Missionary of Charity sisters where doing. The jail house reeks of a most disgusting combination of rotten food, foul-smelling, unwashed and sweaty bodies, and urine. The air inside, stale and humid. It requires a great deal of effort even just to be able to breathe. Here in this hellish quarters I found myself offering the Holy Liturgy for Tuesday within the Easter Octave.

A murdered infant and an infernal jail, two glimpses of the many faces of hell in our midst. I found myself, unworthy as I am, to be a carrier, though a bit reluctant, of the great and redeeming news of Christ's Resurrection even to these two instances of human depravity. "He descended into hell..." confesses the Apostles' Creed. Christ did not only rise from the dead. He did not only brake open the tomb. Our Faith teaches that the Blessed Savior descended even to the depths of hades and destroyed its vile doors, leading those who had been held in bondage by sin and death into the fullness of redemption.

Christ the Risen King did enter hell! He did so not to be overcome by it but to annihilate it and render it powerless and inutile! His descent into hell is a declaration that He ALONE is King and Lord; that the merit and accomplishment of His Most Glorious Passion, Death and Triumphant Resurrection know no bounds nor limits.

The Harrowing of Hell is an essential element in the Holy Mystery of Easter. To put faith in it is to allow one's hell, bondage, sinfulness and many deaths to be totally transformed, renewed, and redeemed by the Resurrected Christ. Easter is never merely a historical event that happened more than a couple of millenia ago. It is just as importantly about the Risen Lord saving me, freeing me, forgiving me, resurrecting me, healing me of all my infirmities, empowering me, rejuvenating me, giving birth to me anew and recreating me from the shards of my conquered, former, sinful self, in the here and now of my present existence. The Great Easter Message must therefore be equally proclaimed in the Exultet of the sanctuary as well as in the seedy nooks and crannies of public halls and local jails.

Easter is not just about Christ Jesus transporting me to the great heights of His Glory; it is also about His plunging into the depths of my degeneracy, in order to lift me up and rescue me from death and damnation.

315 Elizondo St...(Quiapo Series VII)

"Tulog pa" alok sa 'kin ng nanay kong namamalantsa, ng ako'y magitla mula sa malalim na pagkakatulog maraming-maraming hapon na ang nakararaan. Mga alas tres-y-media iyon ng hapon. Malawak na asul ang langit.Wala kasing ulap. Nakapapaso ang init ng nangangalit na araw sa labas ng bahay. Ngunit hindi sa loob. Sapagkat malilim, nakanganga ang mga bintanang tila may sariling dunong at alam kung sino o ano ang patutuluyin at hindi. At tanging hanging-ligaw lang ang nakapaglalabas-masok sa kanila at hindi ang alinsangan ng kalsada. Hindi ko na nakuhang balikan ang iniwan kong himbing at pang-tanghaling panaginip tungkol sa matayog kong paglipad at pagpapalundag-lundag sa nagpipintugan at naglalambutang bulak na ulap. Dahil bago ko pa naipikit ang mugto ko pang mga mata, ay tuluyan na akong natigatig ng pag kring-kring ng magbibinatog na lumiligid na sa aming lugar, ang kuliling ng sorbetero, ang potpot ng naglalako ng puto't kuchinta, at ang iba sari-saring tunog at ingay at sigaw ng maglalako at tindera ng nagparadang milindal.

Ngunit ang pinakamahirap tanggihan sa lahat ay ang malalakas na tilian at hagikhikan ng mga kalaro kong nagsi-gisingan na ring lahat, at masigla nang naghahabulan, nag-aagawan ng bola, nagsisipag-businahan ng mga kotseng gawa sa mga lumang kahon ng gatas at sigarilyo. Ang nagsanib na tinig at tunog na ito'y lubhang napakahirap tiisin at 'di mapansin. Sila'y tila nagkaka-isa sa pagsasabing: " halika na, baba na, labas na ng bahay, inaantay ka na namin, kailangan ng patotot sa patintero, kulang pa ng isa ang putbol, ang tumbang preso, ang giyera ng sumpit, habulan at taguan..."

Hindi ko na matandaan ngayon kung natulog ba ako uli o hindi ng alukin ako noon ng nanay ko maraming hapon na ang nakararaan. Pero ngayon, kapag ako'y paminsan-minsang napapadaan sa kalye kung saan kami dati nakatira, ako'y palagi nang naliligaw. Ang mga kalsadang palaruan namin noo'y masukal, marumi at maamoy na ngayon. Nahahanayan na ng mga nanglilimahid na mga tabla, bilao, kariton at sako ng mga piniratang DVD, ng mga tindero at tinderang hindi ko na kilala, at lalong nakakatakot at nakakakaba dahil 'di ko na rin kilala o maintindihan ang gamit nilang salita. Sa mga pagkakataong ito'y 'di ko maiwasang isipin na kung ano nga kaya't sinunod ko na lang sana noon ang malumanay na paanyayang muling humimlay, at ipagpatuloy ang pakikipag-harutan sa mga nagpipintugang mga ulap ng aking panaginip? At gigising na lamang uli, kapag bumalik na ang pinananabikang pagkuliling, ng mga maglalako ng busog at sigla ng aking pagkabata...

Confessions of a Confessor

A counsel I just gave to a penitent earlier this afternoon at the confessional boomeranged to me concerning a most vital reality in the life of the taong-grasa : "what one cannot draw out of the meagerness of his resources, he can compensate and bless others with from out of the abundance of his heart." A humbling thought that jabbed right through my core. One that caught me off-guard. A realization that filled me with remorse as I had been reminded of how I would sometimes find myself occasionally besieged with self-pity, insecurity or even foolish anxiety at the onset of a material want, or whenever I would happen to compare my apparent lack with the other's bounty. I realized this is none other than my vocation staring me at the face.I have no need nor have any reason to be mortified whenever my deliberate choice to be poor makes its stark presence felt. Instead, I must rejoice at all times, but most especially in moments that I cannot boast of anything materially or spiritually, when I am most empty, handicapped and of no import whatsoever. For it is during these moments that I am most dependent on Divine Providence. It is during these times that all that I could offer the other is solidarity and presence. The assurance that I am with him in his want and helplessness; that we are fellow beggars and are both at the mercy of God's and others' magnanimity and generosity. And it is in this predicament that I cannot be other than humble and grateful before God and man.

It is for this reason that I should always be keeping guard of my heart more than anything else. The most important task of a taong-grasa is to maintain the treasures of his heart which are kindness, compassion and mercy. These alone can make him of any worth in being a slave of the Gospel.

Nemo dat quid non habet. One cannot give what one doesn't have. One who does not have even an ounce of kindness, compassion nor mercy, cannot possibly be kind, compassionate nor merciful to others. And these three do not just magically grow from within anyone. They must be planted. They must be had. They can only come from the providential hands of God through prayer, mortification and sacrifice. One can only draw kindness, compassion and mercy from his own wretched state if he himself constantly experience being redeemed and enriched by the kindness, compassion and mercy of the Holy Savior.

The Great Great Grandfathers of Bloggers...

Bloggers were invented ca.300 AD, and were originally called "monks." Like their distant (sic)descendents, monks had shitty haircuts, and never got laid...

(ripped from the blog of a Russian blogger who purloined it first from someone else's. a good laugh for a busy weekend!)

The "Askal" Mom at the Table of Jesus (Mk.7, 24-30)

One poor, desperate mom. A daughter in distress, assailed by unclean spirits. No remedies and concoctions could ever help her. All the shamans and witch-doctors she has consulted were of no avail. And just when she was about to snap out of her wits, after exhausting all she could think of to help her wasting child...she heard of Jesus.

They said he was for real. They said he was from God. They said he has what she was hopelessly looking for. She must see Jesus. She MUST meet Jesus. She'll do whatever it takes to secure an audience with Jesus.

But actually meeting him proved to be vastly different from merely hearing about him. She was in for a shocker. She would find out later that he was more serious, more puzzling, more enigmatic, more rivetting in his words than all that has ever been said of him. He was even blunt and quite brutal. He called her a "bitch." "children first, dogs later..." said the sought after Lord.

But the Syro-phoenician's motherly heart was defiant. She did not come all the way here to be dismissed just like that. She came prepared for the wrestling match. "I may be a dog for all I care, but I'll eagerly await some scraps from your table still the same...don't give me the attitude young man...GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!" Here's one challenged Mom who would never have "no" for an answer.

And those were the very words the Lord was waiting for. He was not the least offended. He knew they were coming. He wanted that they burst forth. For unknown to the adamant mother, it was actually Jesus who DID wring her heart dry of every remaining bits and scraps of faith that it contains, and he found them copious and unrelenting. And there lies her salvation. There was found her daughter's resurrection.

Later that day...the holy bitch was said to have been seen prancing gleefuly as she made her way back home...WITH A WIDE, CANINE SMILE ON HER FACE...

i-Tg (ako-Taong-Grasa)

Puyat at pagod ngunit maaga kung gumising. Hindi maaaring tanghaliin at baka masalisod ng mga importante at abalang mga tao na pagputok na pagputok pa lamang ng araw ay karipas na sa pagpaparoo't parito sa mga lansanga't kalsada. Gugugulin niya ang mga unang sandali ng pagkagising sa pananahimik, pagbulong sa sarili (siguro'y panalangin), paghikab ng malalim at pagtitig sa malayo sa isang 'di mawaring bagay na s'ya lang ang nakaaalam kung ano. Malabnaw na kapeng makailang-ulit pang babantuan ng nilagang tubig sa pag-usad ng maghapon. Mga lumang diyaryong paulit-ulit na babasahin at matiim na pagninilayan na waring biblia sa turing. Sigarilyong mapait sa kamay na ngawit.

Madalas ay tahimik. Dinadaan-daanan. Nililihisan. Madalang kibuin o tapunan ng pansin pagka't mata'y nanlilisik. Bigla-bigla na lamang tumatawa ng malakas pag nakakita ng nagumpugang mga daga na naguunahan sa paglabas-masok sa mga butas at siwang.

May hawak na bolpen, lapis, at kahit anong uri ng pira-pirasong papel. Ito ang kaniyang sandaang mga sandata sa marami niyang pakikibaka. Ang mga ito ay ang kanyang baril, bomba, taga, lagari, pinsel, paet, karayom at sinulid, martilyo at pako, semento at bato.

Sa kapirasong santwaryo ng paborito n'yang sulok, doon s'ya nakalilikha, nakatitibag, nakapagtatahi, nakapaghihimay, nakabubuhay, nakapaglalakbay, nakikipag-niig sa mga anghel at santo, nakikipagtunggali sa mga ungas at demonyo.

'Pagkat walang magtangka na siya ay hawakan, ay malaya niyang naipapahayag ang kanyang mga saloobin. Magnanakaw ang tawag niya sa mga magnanakaw. Ganid kung ganid, mangmang kung mangmang. Tanging ingay at alulong ang kanyang naririnig sa mga hungkag na dalangi't papuri sa mga simbahan. At nasasamid at 'di mabigkas ng tuwid ang katagang 'kagalang-galang' kapag ang pinatutungkulan ay mga lantarang kawatan. Walang kagatol-gatol kung kanyang singaha't duraan ang mga plantsadong gayak ng mga pusakal. At 'di rin niya sinasakyan ang kinang at taginting ng mga kinahuhumalingan. Basura ang turing n'ya sa mga pinahahalagahang yaman ng iba. At ang kanyang mga basura ang tangi n'yang kayamanan.

Hindi niya gawaing makipag-siksikan. 'Di rin lalo ang makipag-unahan. Kung saan naroon ang libo-libong karamihan, ito ang kaniyang pinakaiiwas-iwasan. Hindi siya baliw at kapos sa pag-iisip. Ang 'di lang niya maunawaan ay kung bakit pagkarami-rami ang hindi mapakali, 'di masiyahan, ang 'di maibsan ang tila palalim ng palalim na paghahangad sa mga bagay na parang alikabok din lang naman, na saglit lang na maiipon at kakapal sa mga pansamantalang impukan, ngunit dagli ring isinasambulat ng mga biglaang pagbuga ng hangin. Hindi niya maintindihan kung bakit 'di maintindihan ng marami, na sapat nang biyaya ang hininga, ang ulirat, ang kakayahang umawit hanggang mamalat, ang lumaboy ng malaya kung saan mo maibigan, ang mag-ingay, manahimik, lumuha at tumawa, nang walang nagdidikta, nag-uutos o nagtutulak, kundi ang maalab na udyok ng likas na kalayaan.

Awa at pagkarimarim ang araw-araw na limos sa kaniya ng mga napapadaan o nakatatanaw sa kaniya sa mga 'di kalayuan. Awa't rimarim din naman ang ganti niyang bati sa mga nagbabato nito. Hindi niya ipinaghihinagpis ang mga pagkakataon na walang mangahas tumabi, makipag-usap ni makiramdam man lang sa kaniya. Ito nga'y mas mainam pa, upang 'di maantala ang mahalaga niyang tungkulin bilang taga-usig sa pinag-isang budhi ng naliligaw na bayan, at paminsan-minsang kalaro ng mga maya't langgam.

PENANCE FOR BRUNCH

Oatmeal, peppered pecan and dried cranberries. Late morning snack. Doesn't seem right. But it doesn't taste that bad either. It just feels weird in the mouth especially when you are craving for Vigan langgonisa, bagnet, garlic rice and ice-cold Coke. I needed to off-set my previous day's indulgences. No complaints. I'm exerting heroic efforts to savor every spoonful and imagines I am feasting on a huge bowl of pasta with prosciutto and sun-dried tomatoes. All it takes is just a bit of imagination and tons of guts to swallow each mouthful of this revolting concoction!

The Bitter Aftertaste of an Otherwise Hearty Breakfast

The restlessness of the moment hangs thick in the air. It's only towards nightfall that a nation, who just this morning has rudely awakened to the shocking news of retired general Angelo Reyes' suicide at the tomb-site of his parents, has slowly come to grips of the sheer magnitude and awful implications of the on-going and still unfolding revelations on the massive and cancerous corruption in the military establishment and the past regimes in general (pun intended). Most everyone at this time is glued to his or her television and transistor radio following every bit the news reports in an attempt to make sense of the fragmented and surreal bytes on what has exactly happened earlier this day. There is this disorienting and numbing sensation that seem to swirl in my head and chest as I too try to follow the news on TV.

Neither one among us (my three friends and me), who trooped earlier at the Marikina riverbanks for a good morning brisk-walk and lugaw, had the slightest inkling that a "hara-kiri" of sorts has already transpired at the memorial park which is just a few kilometers away from where we were having our sunrise fellowship.

Everyone now seems to have something to say on what has just happened. Opinions and unsolicited theories and interpretations of the late general's last actuations and eventually his snuffing out of his own life are aplenty.

All these, however, would lead to nowhere nor be of any help to anyone if the shattering event will not be brought to humble prayer and an honest to goodness examination of our collective soul as a people.

Now is not the time for any finger-pointing nor the empty and oftentimes annoying couch-debates of those who always turn into instant experts and authorities on any issue that happens to be the buzz of the moment. If there is one thing everyone could lay a hand on as his or her take in this morning's rather grim breakfast, then that could only be a serious self-scrutiny as to how in some way one has contributed in the creation of this monster that now haunts and eats up the nation.

Litany of the Taong-Grasa

Lord,

Make me a fool, be my wisdom.
Make me a beggar, be my sustenance.
Make me a loser, be my victory.
Make me a dog, be my master.
Make me an eyesore, be my beauty.

Make me a weakling, be my fortress.
Make me a vagabond, be my home.
Make me a wound, be my balm.
Make me a disease, be my medicine.
Make me a trash, be my scavenger.

Make me succumb for breath and be for me, fresh air.
Make me stammer and lost for words, and be for me, eloquence.
Make me a paralytic whenever I attempt to foolishly prove anything on my own,
so you can knock me on the head, and bring me back on my feet.

O make of me whatever you fancy,
and discard me just as quickly when you're done.
That I may rejoice immensely,
in blessed anonymity!

GUNAM-GUNAM SA LACSON UNDERPASS (Quiapo Series VI)

Bakit makikipagsiksikan sa agawan ng pagiging kung sino, kung malaya namang masusunggaban ang hindi pagiging kahit na ano? O magkandarapa sa pakikihablot sa mga ambisyong para lamang bula? O mga katawagang nakakalimutan din naman kalaunan? Bakit nga ba hahanap pa ng agad ding mawawala? Ang mga 'di likas sa kung sino o bakit ako narito ngayon, at 'di mananaig sa kahulihan kapag ako'y 'di na umiiral?

Mapang-aliw ang bawat naririnig ng tainga. Mapang-akit ang prusisyon ng mga nakikita. Ang bawat madama ay mapang-halina sa bawat nitong kilatis, hugis, kinis at gaspang. Nakakikiliti't nakapapaso. Nakapagpapa-init, nakapanlalamig. Nakapupukaw ng damdamin. Nakapang-hehele't nakagigitla.

Pero ang lahat ay dali-dali ring mawawala. Laro lang ang lahat ng pakikipag-niig at pakikipag-tunggali. Pamatid-inip sa mistulang kahabaan ng sa totoo'y saglit lang na takbo ng buhay.

Ang 'di batid na hiwaga na siyang naroon na bago ko pa man unang naimulat ang aking mga mata, ang siya ring tanging sasalubong sa akin kapag ang mga ito ay ipipikit ko na.

Ang lahat ng mayroon ako sa kasalukuyan ay malalagom lamang sa kapirasong pagitan ng sinapupuna't libingan. Lubhang napaka-ikli upang gugulin ko pa sa anumang 'di kapaki-pakinabang, o kaya'y aksayahin sa nakau-upod lang na mga alitan o kahumalingan. Kaya't sa pirming amba ng napipinto at 'di maaantalang pag-tila ng lahat kong nakagisnan, ang marapat na lamang na pagtuunan ng natitira kong panahon at kakayahan (sapagkat kasabay ding kumakaltas sa bilang ng mga ito ang bawat dahong nalalagas sa tala-arawan), ay ang pagpapanatili ng aking mga kalayaang:

- Mabuhay ng payak at 'di natatabunan ng mga basura't pasanin;
- Magbahagi at sumagap ng pagpapala araw-araw;
- Tumawa ng malakas kahit walang kadahilanan;
- Maghugas ng aking mga kasalanan sa pamamagitan ng pag-luha;
- Umibig ng walang pasubali;
- Umigib sa balong walang lalim;
- Umawit kahit wala sa tono;
- Umindak ng parang baliw;
- Maligo sa ulan katulad nung ako'y maliit pa;
- Magtago't mawala kung gusto ko ng tahimik;
- Lumitaw na bigla sa pagpapatuloy ng buhay.

(Matagal-tagal na rin pala akong nakatayo dito sa kanto ng lagusan ng R. Hidalgo at Quezon Boulevard. Parami na ng parami ang mga nagdaraan. Kailangan ko nang magpatuloy ng lakad. Nakahambalang na ako sa daan).

BIERNES (Quiapo Series V)

Isang maitim at malawak na dagat ng mga ulo ang sasalubong sa paningin sa gawing kanan ng Quezon Bridge kung ika'y palusong sa Quiapo mula sa Plaza Lawton. Kung galing naman sa Espana, wala rin namang magagawa kahit sino, kahit na anong uri ng sasakyan, kundi ang magpa-anod sa baha-bahagyang pag-usad ng mabagal na daloy ng trapik ng sasakyan. Parang ilog na naipon mula sa kung saan-saan, nagtagpu-tagpo at nagbuhol-buhol, paliko ng Lerma, pababa sa underpass at paahon sa bahagi ng Quezon Boulevard na bumabagtas sa gilid ng simbahan. Ito ang eksena sa mga kalsada sa tuwing Biernes sa Quiapo.

Mga kababaihan, marami sa kanila'y mga lola at balo, na nakabihis ng damit na maroon, nasisinturunan ng dilaw na lubid, at may koronang gawa sa mga daho't murang baging ng makabuhay. Walang puknat na nobena, mga misa, at naglalagab-lab na tirikan ng mga kandilang sari-sari ang kulay para sa iba't ibang mga pakay: pula para sa pag-ibig, itim sa kaaway, puti sa pasasalamat, berde para sa masaganang kita. Mayroon ding asul para sa kapanatagan ng loob, pink sa 'di matiyak na kadahilanan, at iba't iba pang mga neon na kulay sa marami pang pangangailangan at hiling. Maaari ding dikitan ng mga hugis taong kandila at kasabay na ipalusaw sa ningas para mas matalab daw at mabisa.

Sa palibot ng simbahan, at maging sa kahabaan ng Quezon Boulevard, naroon naman ang mahabang hanay ng mga karitong nagbebenta ng iba't ibang mga dahon, sanga, langis, pulbos, kabibe, buto, at bato na nakagagaling di umano sa lahat ng uri ng mga sakit gaya ng lagnat, ubo, pilay, bukol, kulugo, pagkahilo...at may bonus pang pamparegla.

Amg mga mandarasal sa loob ng simbahan ay abalang nananalangin para sa mga kaluluwang aplikante sa langit, habang sa labas at palibot naman nito'y kandarapa ang mga manghuhula sa pangangalat ng mabuti o masamang balita sa mga suking kliyente. Lahat ay ibinabadya ng mga bituin at guhit ng palad. May mga suswertehin sa negosyo, makapag-aasawa ng mayamang matandang madaling mamatay, makapag-aabrod at magkakaroon ng bahay at kotse. Ang iba naman 'di umano'y minalas na magka-asawang tahinik ngunit may alaga namang kulasisi, o katulong na pinagkakatiwalaan ngunit magnanakaw palang lihim. Depende lang naman ito kung malaki o maliit ang bayad kay madame at propesor.

Wika ng Panginoon sa Mahal na Ebanghelyo: "humanap ka at ika'y makasusumpong." Sa Quiapo kung Biernes, walang hahanapin na 'di masusumpungan. Siya'y may tugon sa lahat ng katanungan, may inumin sa lahat ng pagka-uhaw, pagkain sa lahat ng pagka-gutom. Himalang napagkakasya niya ang lahat ng dumarayo at nagpapakupkop sa kaniya. Walang sinuman ang walang mapaglulugaran. Wala ring dunong, gaano man ang lalim, ang makapangahas magpaliwanag ng tiyak sa lingguhang piging na ito ng buhay at mga pangarap.

Walang ibang himala sa Quiapo kung araw ng Biernes kundi ang Quiapo rin mismo. Ang Quiapo'y isang malaking katanungan; siay'y mismong ang kasagutan din. Nakamamanghang palaisipan na 'di naman talaga nangangailangan ng iisang tumpak na kalutasan.

Hindi paghihimay sa samu't saring mga bahagi ang susi sa pagtuklas ng hiwaga ng Quiapo. Ang Quiapo'y dinarayo, dinarama, tinitikman, pinagmamasdan, pinakikinggan, pinakikiramdaman, pinakikitunguhan, kina-kausap, kinakaibigan, kinakamayan, kinakarinyo, iginagalang, pinagmamanuhan, pinupulsuhan, pinakikipamayan.

Sya ay magkapanabay na hamon at paanyaya. Sa sandaling matikman, hinding-hindi tatantanan. At 'di rin niya kailanman tatantanan ang sino mang sa landas niya'y mapadaan.

KIONG HEE HUAT TSAI! (resolution for the Year of the Metal Rabbit)

KIONG HEE HUAT TSAI! Year of the Metal Rabbit. Hop-py as a hare. I was born under the rabbit sign (the wooden variety). I did go through most part of my life in a somewhat "hopping" manner. But at one point I realized it's tiring and even aimless at times. So many opportunities wasted. Goals set aside. Important matters overlooked. So for this year I decided there will no longer be any more hopping for me. Henceforth I shall deal with what remains of my life, one step at a time. Each day would be a day for me to give the best. Each task I would strive to attend to with utmost care. Each walk, a purposeful one. Each person, the most important one at the moment. I shall celebrate each Eucharist as if it were my first and last. Each word I'll utter I shall choose very carefully, seeing to it that it contributes to the good of the one I am talking to, otherwise, I'll just have to shut my mouth. I shall avoid hopping from one interest to another, which often ends with my accomplishing nothing at the day's end. Shifting loyalties will never be in my agenda. I shall strive to only be Christ's at all times - even when no one's looking. And since there's no way I could know up to when I shall be roaming this happy, sometimes harried earth, then I might as well enjoy and enrich and be enriched by each passing day, savoring every minute, blessing every moment. I am resolved to be a blessing for others. I shall be a grateful recipient of the many blessings from others.

GABI (Quiapo Series IV)

Kabaligtaran ng rumaragasang pagpaparoo't parito ng mga tao't sasakyan sa umaga, ay ang pagkakupad-kupad na pag-usad ng mga ito pabalik ng Quiapo tuwing sasapit ang takip-silim. Parang isang higante at mahabang uod na bugbog sa maghapong pagngatngat ng mga dahon, ang pinaghalong mga tao't sasakyan na ito ay marahang nabubuo mula sa kung saan-saang panig ng Maynila at mga karatig pook, nagkakadikit-dikit, nagbubuhol-buhol, at nagkakaisang iginigiit at iginagapang ang malata niyang katawan mula sa City Hall, pausad ng Lawton, papanhik ng Quezon Bridge at pababa ng Quezon Boulevard. Mabagal at pahinto-hinto. Matagal at nakababagot. Kasaliw ng maitim na usok at mainit na singaw ng mga makina't katawan ang bigat na bitbit, na halos maaninag na't mamataang kumukulambong sa mga papauwing obrador, empleyado, estudyante't mga guro, mga tindera't paninda, mga bata't matanda, may asawa't wala. Iisa ang pakay. Ang makauwi ng bahay (na hindi ibig sabihin palagi ay bahay na may sahig, dingding at bubong. Minsa'y silid lang. Minsan sahig lang. O pinagtagpi-tagping kahon sa loob ng kariton).

Pagsapit ng alas singko'y nagkukumahog na sa pagsasara ng mga kurtinang bakal ang mga tindaha't kainan. Ang mangilan-ngilan ay apura na ring umiistima sa mga natitirang kostumer. Upang pagkatapos ng mabilis na palitan ng bayad at sukli, ay maka-unat na sa nakaabang na higaan.

Pero 'di lahat ng taga Quiapo'y natutulog kung gabi. 'Di lahat ng ilaw ay pinapatay ang sindi. Mayroong mga paninda't tindera na lumilitaw lamang sa pagsapit ng dilim. Mayroong mga labing mapula lang kung gabi.

TANGHALI (Quiapo Series III)

Sandaling lumuluwag ang mga kalsada't kalye. Lalo't kapag masingkad ang araw at nakalilitson ang init. Walang kaprasong lilim, kahit anino lang ng poste, ang 'di dadayuhin at saglit na kukublihan. Parang mga dagang binulabog ng liwanag, nagsisipagsiksikan ang lahat sa mga silong at siwang.

Kalansingan ang mga pinggan at kubyertos sa maraming kainan. Lagutukan ng lagutukan ang mga bote ng softdrinks na tinatanggalan ng tansan. Halo dito, takal doon, supot-supot na mga ulam at kanin, mga suka't toyong kahun-kahon.

Kwentuhan, chismisan, kamustaha't biruan. Mabilis na ninanamnam ang saglit na kapahingahan. Inoorasan. Iniingatan. Hindi pa tapos ang pakikipagbakbakan.

Maraming 'di mapakali pagdating ng tanghali. Lalo't wala pang kita, wala pang benta, wala na ngang agaha'y wala pa ring pera. Minsan, lulunukin ang hiya, ang pangingimi. Kaysa nga naman magnakaw, mabuti pang maghingi. Pero sa dami ng kakumpitensiya, maging sa larangan ng panglilimos, marami ring kinakapos ng swerte. Sa dami ng mga pulube, pati ang mga dating naglilimos ay nagiging pobre din.

Tanghali din kung pumailanlang ang panalangin sa moske. Waring binabasbasan ang mga naglalako ng peke. At hayo sa singhutan ng rugby ang mga batang kalye. Engrandeng pagpipista naman ang ginagawa ng mga askal at pusakal sa malawak na tambakan sa likod ng palengke.

Kalahati pa lamang ito ng maligalig at mahabang maghapon.

Marami pang maaaring mangyari...

UMAGA (Quiapo Series II)

Malabnaw na kape, lugaw, tapsilog. Minsan ay yosi lang. Minsan wala. Maagang nagsisimula ang umaga sa Quiapo. Madalas, inuunahan pa ng maraming taga-rito ang pagdating ng umaga. Walang ligoy-ligoy, wala ng ligo-ligo. Mabilis na pagbangon sa higaang katre o bangko. Saglit na wisik sa mukha, mumog at haplos sa buhok. Lagabag ng mga swelas at tsinelas sa hagdanang mauga. Karipas ng takbo sa sakayan ng dyip, FX o bus - papuntang opisina, palengke, eskwela, factory ng hopia at kung anu-ano. Tulak sa kariton, padyak sa side-car, sunong-sunong ang bilao, pasan-pasan ang kahon.

Ang iba, narun na sa pilahan ng palugaw sa harap ng simbahan, habang inoorasyunan ng matandang pari na nagmimisa, at dinig na dinig na ibinobrodkas ng mga trompang nakatutok sa Plaza Miranda.

Mabilis ang mga pangyayari. Parang kinukuryente. Madalas madapa ang mga lalampa-lampa. Pati ang mga barbero, mabilis ding gumupit. Nag-aapura. Naghahabol ng kota. Parang nagtatanggal lang ng nag-usliang himulmol sa kamiseta ng mga tambay na parokyano.

'Di uso ang "breakfast in bed" dito sa Quiapo. Maraming ang walang "breakfast" sa mga taga-Quiapo. Ang mga kapatid sa tropang "pamorningan," papatulog pa lang kung umaga sa Quiapo.

PASA-KALYE (Quiapo Series I)

Maingay, matao, mainit, marumi.
Masaya, masigla, makulay, matindi.
Matanda, makabago, mahirap, maunlad.
Malumanay, marahas, mapusok at magalang.
Masagana, maka-masa, masaklap, matingkad.
Mailap at maamo, mapanganib, malamya.
Mapang-akit, mapang-api, mapang-away, mapag-biro.
Matampuhin, masayahin, mapang-hamon, mapag-hilom.
Matiisin, masikap, matipuno, matatag.
Mahalay, masukal, madaya, malupit.
Mahiwaga, mahinahon, mahinhin, makiri.
Makabaliktad-sikmura, maka-agaw pansin.
Malutong magmura, masarap kung umibig.
Mapagkupkop, makabayan, mapagkakatiwalaan.
Makabagbag-damdamin, makapigil-hininga.
Malawak, makipot, masalimuot, matuwid.
Malubak at mapatag, marupok ,marilag.
Maalab, malamig, masintahin, matapat.
Malihim, matanong at mapag-kunwari.
Masinop, madiwara, maligalig, mahimbing...

...pusod ng maynila,
kilikili ng lahi,
pugad ng halang at dambana ng lipi;
entablado ng laban at mga hinaing;
pandayan ng sikap at pangarap at hikbi.

Nothing Less

Life is not accomplishing some special work but attaining to a degree of consciousness and inner freedom which is beyond all works and attainments. "That is my real goal. It implies becoming unknown and as nothing." T. Merton

A life unshackled. A life free from all sorts of attachment and their attendant miseries. A life devoid of masks and pretensions. A life spontaneously lived. A life which is not to be confused with the many role playing one has to forcibly be engaged as he tackles the multiple demands of everyday living at various levels and in different capacities. One, however, that must also be not equated with merely "breathing."

Inner freedom is that state of being in which one, free from all selfish pursuits, ambitions, wants and the cumbersome urge to accumulate and acquire, enjoys doing and fulfilling all the good he wishes with sheer abandon knowing that everything is God's work in, through and with him, and he, a mere participant in this grand, divine project. He sees no need for affirmation on whether he is doing it right or not. Nor does he crave for anyone's nod of approval. It is so because for him, the only thing that matters is the awareness of his being constantly under the watchful gaze of He who truly is in charge.

To have inner freedom is to be liberated from the bad habit of losing sleep over thinking of where one is to scrounge his next meal. It is having the surety of finding nourishment on the table just as he was instructed to pray for it from the One who unfailingly provides our daily bread.

It does sound angelic, even unearthly, to be aspiring for this way of living. But to desire anything less is to demean the original intent for which we were made.

Wala Lang

Tahimik lahat ngayong maghapon.

Walang tawag sa telepono. Walang mga taong naglisaw. Walang tahol ng aso, kahit huni ng mga ibong nakakulong. Walang sintunadong alulong ng choir na nagpa-praktis, o yung dumadagundong at pagkatinis-tinis na pagpepreysing-preysing ng mga kaanib ng El Shaddai. Wala ang mga bulung-bulungan sa mga suluk-sulok ng simbahan. Himalang wala rin ngayon ang mga rumaragasa at nagaalburutong mga jeep. Wala rin akong naririnig na sigawan sa pagitan ng gwardia sa ibaba at ng tinatawag niyang tao na nakatira sa itaas ng aking kwarto. Wala akong naririnig na palahaw ng sanggol ngayon o hagikhikan ng mga batang naghahabulan palagi sa may hagdanang katabi ng aking bintana. Wala rin yung kapitbahay kong nasa katapat kong kwarto. Wala ring imik yung alaga niyang aso. Walang tunog yung TV. Wala akong kausap. Kahit sa sarili, wala ring masabi.

Wala lang...

Comatose

Blame it on the noontime downpour. Rainy days are his sworn nemesis, a surefire deterrent to his otherwise nomadic impulses. It doesn't matter that his last solid food intake was twenty hours ago (late afternoon of the previous day). No amount of enticing him to make a trip to the nearby mall for some quick grub, nor to ride the inner-city train without any particular destination (which he loves doing especially on lazy Mondays), nor even to raid the fridge, which is just a few steps from his room, could ever yank him out of the bed. There he lays, the King of Sloths, cocooned in crisp sheets, hungry, static, wasting. The Kois in the pond downstairs are not as unfortunate. They never run out of crumbs thrown in by the passing pedestrian. Now if he could only figure out how to turn pillows into Big Macs...

P.S. It wasn't an altogether unproductive day though. Panic got the better part of him, so he was able to finish two artworks, both logos. One is for the Archdiocesan Youth Day of an archdiocese in Guam; the other, for the 50th anniversary of the Mother Butler's Guild, Philippines. Still, no food in sight...

In Praise of the Ordinary

Day is done but love unfailing,
Dwells ever near;
Shadows fall but hopes prevailing,
Calms every fear...

Ordinary time. Ordinary grind in a typical Sunday. Soon, silence will again descend on the erstwhile noisy choir, nave, sanctuary, hall and office, and the many other congregating spots of this lively, busy parish. Lights will be put off, doors shut and doubly-locked. And the only glimmer left is the never-extinguished flicker of the sanctuary lamp by the tabernacle - its only constant and consistent companion. Another ordinary Sunday spent in praise of the God who abides by his children in the ordinariness of everyday living.

Biryani In My Mind (ang misadventure ng isang matandang binatang biglang naglihi ng Chelo Kebab)

For some strange reason, I can't stop dreaming of gorging on a nice plate of Chelo Kebab and Biryani the whole time today. Waking up early this morning, I had nothing but coffee...and Biryani...in my mind. Mass at the ossuary, Biryani in my mind. Noontime mass at the mall, Biryani in mind. Afternoon prayers, while in the confessional, Biryani in my mind. By sundown, the insistent nagging inside me already got a little disconcerting. I had to have my Biryani! So I promptly trimmed my homily to less than 6 minutes, finished the mass in no time, brisk-walked back to the rectory, changed clothes, stormed out of the building, hailed a cab and off I went to my favorite Persian joint at E. Rod. We crossed Edsa, down Tuazon ext., turned left at N. Domingo, went straight down Balete dr., then left to E.Rod cor. Morato. And then I felt something's missing at my back pocket, just when I was about to alight from the cab...WALA AKONG DALANG WALLET. All I had with me was a notebook, a pen, and three pieces of V-Fresh. We had to return all the way back to 13th av!

But I had to have my Biryani.

So back we drove to E.Rod, then Araneta Center, then crossed Tuazon passing through 8th, then left to Justice Lourdes Paredes San Diego Avenue (formerly Main), then turned left at Neu Petro, and back to the parish. Ran up to my room, found my wallet, then back to the cab, and drove all the way back to that corner resto at E. Rod.

Then, at last, two hundred pesos worth of taxi fare for the crazy round trip notwithstanding, peace and comfort descended on me, as I beheld (with moist eyes and steamy underarms), served on a sparkly, white platter...the Biryani of my dreams!

Thursday Musings

"I never wanted anything save that of becoming a priest of Jesus...never had any lofty ambition or dream of any prospective 'ecclesiastical' career that would require strategic positioning and calculated relationship with whoever can propel me on top. Neither had I ever been enticed with the possibility of making it big and acquiring things I did not grow up with, nor being able to purchase and enjoy things that previously were simply out of reach of my family's meager resources. I just wanted to become a priest of Jesus...

Remaining and striving to be a good one now is my daily cross as a priest. Day to day I struggle to be gentle, magnanimous, humble, down-to-earth, simple, modest...even merciful, compassionate, and forgiving...willing to die to my pride (which abounds), be unnoticed and unacknowledged, less favored than others, and remain at peace in moments of persecution and injustices big or small. These are my many, little, daily deaths to self; my paradise, hell, heaven, earth, calvary and empty tomb rolled into one as a priest of Jesus...

Someday, everything shall come to pass...I pray only that when that day comes, I shall at least be still recognizable as a priest of Jesus, when I come to meet him face to face."

an anonymous fool-for-Christ

I am a priest.

I am called to become like Jesus.

Jesus fasted and prayed. He cured the sick and showed mercy to the sinner. He preached the Gospel. He is good news himself. He walked on water and fed the crowd with five loaves and a couple of fish. Everybody had his fill, with twelve baskets full of leftover. He laughed with his friends, cried with them, went hungry with them, even got mad at them at times. But he always loved each one of them -to the point of feeding them with his body and blood as food and drink.He did not even wait until all of them has repented. He willingly died on the cross for them, and for whoever would care to be counted among those who followed him.

I am a priest.

I was ordained to become like Jesus.

My altar cannot be other than the altar of Jesus; my sacrifice, the sacrifice of Jesus.

Jesus IS altar and sacrifice.

I am ordained to be altar and sacrifice like Jesus.

Cofradia de las Bwitres

Veiled in black lace,

one by one,

they perch

each on their favorite beam,

and pew, and nook.

Waiting to swoop,

down the unsuspecting victim.


Sharpening their talons,

bead by bead,

they wait

for the slightest mistake,

or the faintest of crease

on the dress

of the gathering worshipers.


Coming to church much earlier than the rest,

going home from church much later than the rest;


( more pious than the rest,

more proper than the rest,

if one's too busy

like a god looking down mere mortals,

there is no time to rest).


There they flock

at the church,

circling and circling

in their calculated death-dance.


It's half past six.


It's time to prey...

Hubad

Quiet Monday. Memorial of St. Anthony Abbot (Anthony of the Egyptian desert). Holy Eucharist. Smoked fish and fried rice. Morning papers and coffee. Cold, crisp air.

One rather ordinary day...

This kind of situation is really a little tougher than when one is saddled by a hundred tasks. One that never fails to catch me off guard.

Free, quiet, Monday mornings are times when one gets to resume engagement in the on-going internal battles that he cannot but confront for the rest of his blessed life. Stirrings that are often drowned in the noise and muck of the rest of the week.

It is in the uneasy quietness of a day like this that one feels most vulnerable and naked, bereft of pretensions, of roles to play, of duties to perform.

This might just also be the best time for prayer. When I can be completely bare before Him who first emptied His all for me.

Who sits in solitude and is quiet hath escaped from three wars: hearing, speaking, seeing; yet against one thing shall he continuously battle: that is his own heart.
Abbot Anthony

Judas Prayer

Woman your fine ointment - brand new and expensive
Could have been saved for the poor
Why has it been wasted? We could raise maybe
Three hundred silver pieces or more
People who are hungry, people who are starving
Matter more than your feet and hair
Judas to Jesus and Mary Magdalene,
Jesus Christ Superstar

How moving.

Heart rending.

Utterly hypocritical.

These words of Judas...

How very insincere.

Contemporary too.

To claim to care for,
represent,
serve
the poor,
and not do a thing,
is to kiss
the face of God,
Judas-style.

Countless prayers and invocations
punctuated with
and mouthed
in the name of the poor,
and not incarnated,
is to sob
and pray,
Judas-style.

1: x

One in x chance that I would:

a) meet a high school classmate I haven't seen for over a decade, on a sidewalk near a mall where I just celebrated mass, at 2:30PM.

then:

b) see friends from a former parish assignment, on a lane bound to the opposite of where I am heading back, stopping to signal me to cross the road and hop in the car so they can drive me back to the parish, at that spot where I just parted with my former classmate, just after I wished some friends with a car would drive by and see me and gladly offer to drive me back home because I'm already tired, at 2:40PM.

well... a and b just happened early this afternoon.

sometimes, life could really be stranger than fiction.

Santo Nino

We celebrate and worship Jesus Christ, who unlocked for us the gates of the kingdom of heaven by His Glorious Incarnation. He chose to do this not by coming to us as a fearsome tyrant and master, but rather as a child.

"Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven..." says Our Lord. Through these words He declared to all that He is the protector of children, of the small, the downtrodden, the oppressed, the poor, the helpless, the exploited and the disadvantaged.

The little ones are the priority of our God.

As Christians we are called to protect, defend, serve and respect the little ones of God.

But we are not just tasked to take care of God's little ones.

All of us are likewise called to be "little ones" before our Merciful Father in heaven.

No other way.

"If any one of you will not be like one of these little ones, you cannot be included in the reign of the Father."

To be childlike, to be a "child" once more, is to recover the simplicity, truthfulness and purity of heart that we once had as children, but have lost in our growing years. When we became "adults," we also have somehow distanced ourselves from God and has foolishly tried to assert our independence from Him, doing more our will than what He wills for us.

The Holy Child, Our Senor Santo Nino, invites us to put down our futile rebellions and defenses; he dares us to be completely dependent once more to our true Father in heaven; He teaches us that Divine childlikeness is our real power and salvation, for it is in being little and helpless before God that He is able to exercise the fullness of His might and love in, through and with us.

The Holy Child Jesus challenges us to go beyond making "dolls" and "mascots" out of His images in our upcoming festivities. He would rather that we imitate and start living out the path of spiritual childlikeness that He has made possible for us through His Holy Childhood.

Spiritual childlikeness is the key to salvation (Mk. 10)

Viva Pit Senor!!!

I Will Also Walk On Water

"(But) wait. Go back. Look. See those stunning moments when Peter stood there on his own. One like us actually did walk on water...and if such has been done once...it certainly can be done again."
Michael Heher, The Lost Art of Walking on Water, Reimagining the Priesthood



I share the predicament of Peter. I share in the sins of Peter. I sometimes am stubborn and impulsive like Peter...even noisy, nosy, arrogant and ignorant about some important things of the faith...like Peter...I share in the humanity of Peter

I share in his dreams, in his hopes, in his honest desire to take care of his loved ones - only to leave all behind because of a call...I share in the call of Peter.

While I share in his joy upon knowing the Lord, his zeal in following his newfound friend, his awe at the words of the Master, the depths into which he has anchored his trust that he'll never be forsaken, I likewise share in his anxiety in sometimes not knowing where all these wanderings are headed to, or what the future will be for him and for his companions...I share in the uncertainties of Peter.

This is the man who initially did already walk on water upon hearing that same voice that once called him on the shores while he was at work; the man who soon after started to sink when he lost focus on the Caller, and made a big fuss out of the impossibility of what he was already doing...the one who got right back on track when he returned his gaze on the God who is calling him. He is Peter, the one who was called and redeemed by Jesus...

I share in the salvation of Peter...

I will also walk on water!

RED HORSE 3:16 (Ikatlong tagay sa panglabing-anim na bote)

May araw na bida ka, may araw na extra lang. Parang pelikula lang ang buhay. O parang mesa na minsan maraming pagkain, minsan naman, panay kanin lang, walang ulam. Minsan pa nga, kahit ano, wala. Mesa lang talaga. Parang notebook na 'di maubos-ubos ang mga pahinang naghihintay masulatan ng kung anu-ano: assignment, lessons, mga drowing pag 'di mo maintindihan ang sinasabi ng titser sa harapan, o yung sagot ng kaklase mong super genius na nagre-recite; o mga pambihirang mathematical equations na tatatlo lang sa buong whole wide universe ang nakaka-intindi: titser mo, kaklase mong genius, at yung author ng libro.

Parang dikiam din minsan. Masarap at matamis sa simula, pero 'pag basang basa na ng laway, 'pag naaagnas na sa kapaparoo't parito sa loob ng bibig, unti-unti, umaalat. Pagkaalat-alat.

Ang buhay ika nga'y parang life. Sosyal din kung minsan. Parada ng mga finer things in life, sit-down-dinner complete with a glass of wine - kahit Carlo Rossi lang. Minsan nga, kahit Red Horse lang na pinag ambag-ambagan. Ayos na rin. Nairaraos din. "konting alak lang, kahit walang pulutan..." Kahit nga walang alak. Basta may kaibigan, kakuwentuhan, kausap man lang...o kahit katabi na lang.

Pero minsan kahit ang mga ito ay wala. Kaya idadaan na lang sa pwersahang pagtulog. Ang himala, paggising mo, buhay pa rin naman. Hindi naman pala nakamamatay ang saglit na pag-iisa.

Sanayan lang ang buhay. Ang mapikon talo. Sabi nga ng Chinese philosopher na si Po Ng : "wa wen ta." Ang ibig sabihin, "wa wen ta" ang sobrang pagda-drama. Dapat namnamin ang bawat araw. Masarap ang buhay sa isang taong marunong mabuhay. Malungkot sa isang nagmamadaling mamatay. Pag alam mo kung pano mabuhay, daig mo pa ang pusang 'di umanoy may siyam raw na buhay. Kasi araw-araw, paggising, may panibagong buhay...bida ka man o extra!

PALABOY

Stability is an illusion. One will always be "palaboy." One can only be "palaboy." Faces, places, relations and stations, in all these, come-and-go is the name of the game. Foolish is he who tenaciously clings on any of these he meets on the way; a barnacle waiting to be brutally swept away by the raging waves, with the lumber onto which it has latched.

I can only be "palaboy."

I will always be "palaboy."

At least for as long as I walk this earth.

Travel light!

1.11.11 - ORDINARY TIME

Nativity. Epiphany. Theophany.
Solemn Liturgies and gunpowder orgies.
It's 2011!
Reunions and departures, check.
Housecleaning, check.
Quiapo Fiesta, check.
First Week in ordinary time, green vestments, rest and detox.
The last of the guests has left.
Time to get back to work.
Beer-induced dreams of projects, travels and resolutions are now tamed with the simpler, more realistic and down-to-earth requirements of day-to-day grind at the parish: Early morning Mass, an occasional sick-call, rice and boiled vegetables, siesta and coffee, confessions.
Time to shift gear; it's now back to the old one-day-at-a-time mode.
"give us this day our daily bread" says the Pater Noster.
Soon, it will be evening once more.
The air is still cold though...a waft of the thawing winter chills imported by the winds from the other side of the globe.

PASADO ALAS DOSE (Quiapo 2011)

Sunday, January 9, 2011, at around 8 in the morning: the annual "Traslacion" procession of the Black Nazarene began its long, tortuous crawl from the Quirino Grandstand in Luneta, all the way through the streets of Quiapo, to the minor basilica. This year, the holy icon made it back to the basilica at half past midnight, the longest time in history it took for the procession of the Nazareno to be completed. It was a phenomenal 16 hours from Luneta to Quiapo church. This poem is inspired by that special event.

Pasado alas-dose ng ika'y umuwi
'di yata't masyadong ikaw ay ginabi
saan ba lumaboy at saan nag-lagi
mga anak mo'y 'di na mapakali.

Mga pari at lola, mga batang gala
mga ale at mama'y panay na ang usal
ng dasal na ang nasa ikaw sana'y ligtas;
kung may galos at sugat agad na malanggas.

Daig mo ang kapitan, konsehal at alkalde
at lalong higit pa sa obispo't presidente
kung suyurin ang sikot at siwang at kalye
at dalawing lahat ang lungga ng rebelde.

Kasabay ng dilig ng banayad na ulan
ang biyaya't basbas ay bumuhos sa daan;
mariing itinapak ang matibay na paa
sa malapot na putik nitong aming kalsada.

At ang bawat maraanan ng marungis na bisita
ay nagsabog ang luha, mukha'y 'di maipinta;
dinaig ang lukso at harot ng Bautista
sa tiyang mapintog ng matanda n'yang ina.

Gamot na humihilom sa lahat ng kirot,
at siglang nanumbalik sa mga may sakit,
at pag-asang mataas sa mga walang bait,
tahana't pagkain ng maraming yagit.

At ito'y ilan lang sa maraming pagdalaw
at maliit na piraso ng malawak na saklaw
ng gawaing dakila sa bawat mong araw
sa mga ang dalangi'y hininga at ilaw.

Sa 'yong pagbabalik ito lang ang ganti,
kahit pa 'di husto at karapat-dapat,
ang ika'y salubungin ng bunyi't palakpak,
pagbabago ng puso't pagsunod na pirmi.

DETOX 2011

YEAR OF THE METAL RABBIT - Hopping from one blessing to another. Have just finished the year's first week: New Year's Eve celebration with the MC sisters; lively and meaningful sunday liturgy; sumptuous Japanese lunch with friends for Popsies's Big Day; Splendide Circus and pizza; an episode: got carried away with my old, nasty self (ugaling Quiapo) and unceremoniously struck a dear friend with a long pillow (I was promptly hit back with a rolled-up, plastic mat by the visibly livid victim. Long silence followed. I felt so foolish then I just had to apologize for my stupidity. I am now still consigned to temporary oblivion by the aggrieved. Hindi na nga pala kami mga bata, hehehe...signs of ageing); Confession and Eucharist with the inmates of Precinto Uno, Tondo; Chelo Kebab, Pineapple shake, black coffee and Mango crepe with another friend. Will be off to Luneta in a while for the 5PM Mass for the vigil in honor of The Black Nazarene.

For this year, my year, I have decided I will be nice and pleasant the best way I could. I already learned many, many lessons in the past. Nothing much will change. I'll just do a little "housecleaning" of sorts; will dutifully stock up on "God bless you's" and "Thank you's" and generously invoke them upon everyone I'll meet, but most especially the blabbermouths and obnoxious characters who has this penchant for congregating in parish halls and around church statuaries. No more losing sleep over petty and cheap things; will exercise more, and pray even more intensely.

I will now cut down on Kimchi cup noodles, Coke in all its mutations, Tropical Hut Big Burgers and Quarter Pounders, large fries and Nuggets - the latter being the most difficult decision of all. More half-cooked gulay and yoghurt for this wooden rabbit.

Detox time. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

I'll still be pretty much around though. Bad news for those who abhor me and cringe at the mere sight of my allegedly frightening presence. Sorry. I'm not yet dying. Nyahaha!!!

I AM THEOPHANY

At the MANGER, God revealed Himself to us as Love at its purest and humblest;

At the WATERS OF JORDAN, God revealed Himself to us as Love-community, Father, Son and Spirit;

At the WEDDING AT CANA, God revealed Himself to us as Love overflowing and abundant;

One God.
One Love.
One continues revelation...

I am created in His Image and Likeness.
In baptism, He restored in me His Image and Likeness.
I received the name of the Father, Son and Spirit.
I am received by the Father, Son and Spirit.
I received the mark of the Trinity.
I am an heir to His riches untold.
I have been born again in spirit and truth.
I have been purified, forgiven and made whole.
I am continually nourished by His Body and Blood.
I bear His Image and Likeness by the love I accord my neighbors.
I reveal to others the face of God when I die to myself so that they may have life.
I am a conduit of renewal for people and creation.

As I incarnate in my person, my limitations notwithstanding, God who is Humble Love, God who is Communal Love, God who is Abundant Love, and thus again and again continue to be a life-giving and life-transforming revelation for all, I
allow the Lord to manifest Himself through me.

The work of Christmas continues through me.

I am THEOPHANY.