Reflections of a Grandma

How can you even know how precious your baby is until you feel the soft touch of his fingers on your face, the complete trust he has in you as you hold his hands and take a step or two, the smile on his face as he recognizes your voice, the warm embrace, the wet kisses on your face, the moments you pick him up and he snuggle close to you, safe and warm in your arms. It’s the unspeakable happiness he shows when you are around and the inexpressible love that  make him so precious, so loved, so treasured.

(Note: this is our baby Nate’s first published photo in a national Catholic journal). Proud to be a grandma.

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Going Back To The Old Place I Love

You are etched in my memory, a place where I could rebuild my dreams and still believe that they do come true.

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The Gift Of The Morning

Good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

- Mary Oliver

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A Thousand Mornings (Part 2)…. Hello Mary Oliver!

Okay, I am reviving my month-ender and  “happy new month” blog. I used to do it in some of my posts but sometimes, in the midst of daily living, you forget things that were part of your routine.

May has quietly faded into June  and  as always it left something to cherish and to treasure. It was terribly hot but the afternoon showers that we got during the last week  somehow diffused the humid feel of the month. Yesterday, I visited my daughter at her office at BPI to get a package  sent by a friend from the US. I took an FX taxi from our place to Ayala Avenue and along the way I was like a child getting re-acquainted with an old place and taking note of changes that were not there thirteen years ago. Thirteen years, seems so long  ago -  yes, it’s been thirteen years since I left Bank of the Philippine Islands  when I availed of an early retirement to take care of my two kids.  Seeing new faces  but looking for old ones who were my former office mates, I now can’t imagine myself as part of the young crowd waiting for elevator rides  and beating the 8:30am rush  to log  in to work. I was with BPI for more than twenty-one years, right after I graduated from college. Waking up early, car pooling,  early morning masses at Greenbelt chapel, lunch breaks and quick walks to Glorietta, afternoon rush to share a ride with friends on the way home, the routine of a working mom, they came rushing back when I saw the facade of BPI. Ayala Avenue has changed of course with more high-rise buildings sprouting from every nook and cranny, it’s after all the Makati Central Business District. What I noticed though was there were lots of people lining up the sidewalk of Ayala Avenue smoking. I am glad I brought a face mask. During my time, smokers just stay at the back of our building at the open parking space. Why can’t they totally prohibit smoking in public?

Sometime last October, I wrote a blog on the newest book of Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings dreaming of having a copy of it when it’s published. It has become one of my top-rated posts  although it was more of me than the book. Yesterday, I finally got hold of it and perused each word, smiling like crazy holding it in my hands, enjoying the feel of  silk because the dust jacket  is so smooth to the touch.

This is my second book of Mary Oliver and I love how she portrays nature in so many different ways. It feels like you are beside a brook or just looking at an unknown bloom by the wayside or discovering the glint of the moon on a dark night.  Odette, who has become a close friend sent me all these, three books, two latest publications from my favorite author Richard Paul Evans and a copy of A Thousand Mornings together with a hard drive which she says I could use for all the shots that I want to save. Speaking of blessings, they pour in a thousand ways too.

Let me share one of her poems with you. Reading her words always keep me inspired, silently smiling to myself and telling the old me, I am lucky, aren’t I?  The  journey is long but I am blessed.

The Gardener

 

Have I lived enough?

Have I loved enough?

Have I considered Right Action enough, have I

      come to any conclusion?

Have I experienced happiness with sufficient gratitude?

Have I endured loneliness with grace?

 

I say this, or perhaps I’m just thinking it.

       Actually, I probably think too much.

 

Then I step out into the garden,

where the gardener, who is said to be a simple man,

       is tending his children, the roses.

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And The Mountains Echoed

All my life, I have lived like an aquarium fish in the safety of a glass tank, behind a barrier as impenetrable as it has been transparent.  I have been free to observe the glimmering world on the other side, to picture myself in it, if I like. But I have always been hemmed in, by the hard unyielding confines of the existence that Baba has constructed for me, at first knowingly, when I was young, and now guilelessly, now that he is fading day-to-day. I think I have grown  accustomed  to the glass and am terrified that when it breaks, when I am alone, I will spill out in to the wide open unknown and flop around, helpless, lost, gasping for breath.

Siblings, parenthood, friendship – words  and topics that make up a good and brilliant story. I won’t attempt to make a review here that would probably spoil your fun in reading the book. This was recently released last May 21 so maybe some of you haven’t got hold of a copy yet.  I read his first two books, The Kite Runner which was released in 2003 and was  adapted into film later and A Thousand Splendid Suns  which was made available to the public in 2007. If you love Amir in The Kite Runner and cried with Mariam and Laila in A Thousand Splendid Suns, you would surely appreciate  Pari and Abdullah  in this new tale  “revolving around brothers and sisters, and the ways in which they love, wound, betray, honor, and sacrifice for each other.”

I wrote a review of his second book  A Thousand Splendid Suns back in 2007 and posted it here  two years later when I was organizing my blogs at Multiply. I was quite excited when I read about his third book  not knowing what to expect since my views of him as a writer  were colored by his first two novels but here is a good review I found after finishing the last page without spoiling your fun of discovering what makes it a five-star in my list of lovely reads.  There is that feeling  when you reach the last few pages and you don’t want it to end  – you feel the intensity, the emotions playing in your mind and you want to know more about the characters who have endeared themselves to you in the first few pages.

My best read so far this 2013.

 

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Savoring The Quiet

The raindrops linger

And I stand here….

Still

Savoring the quiet

Of a misty morning.

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Authors And Books

I am going back to reading although it has become a bit slow for me. There was a time when I used to read three books a week, getting  older though made me quite a little slack doing some of my favorite hobbies, reading being one. Come to think of it, among all my books (probably  a thousand of them) there are only two signed copies that I treasure for the simple reason that they are the only signed copies that I have Two years ago, my daughter gave  me a copy of Nicholas Sparks’ The Best of Me   as a birthday gift  on the condition that I attend his book signing at The Podium at Ortigas Center. There was an attached invite from National Bookstore but it was not an assurance that I’ll be able to have my book signed. Nicholas Sparks is more of Nissa’s favorite author so I’ve read almost all of his books. The book signing was right after my birthday so you can just imagine how nervous I was because I have never attended one before.  Read my adventures here on how the day went. It was an unforgettable event in my life. I was really tongue-tied when I met him face to face. All I can utter was “hello Nicholas”.

Richard Paul Evans is  one of my favorite authors. Hmm, let me amend that, he is my favorite author. I’ve blogged  about him so many times here. Last year, I received a signed, first edition copy of his book  The Last Promise , a gift from an online friend that I met at Multiply.  Look at how he signs his books. This may sound  crazy but I guess, the value of a book increases when it is personally signed by the author. Do you agree?

I am looking forward to my three  new books  which will be sent by another friend from the US, my copy of A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver and two more latest books by Richard Paul Evans.  Right now, I am in the thick of reading Anne of Avonlea (second in a series of the classic books by L.M. Montgomery).

And I wish that like the late D.J. Salinger, I could do this too, ““What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn’t happen much, though.”  It hasn’t happened yet because I don’t have  a terrific friend  who is a book author

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The Art of Flying

“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.” – Richard Bach

A friend said that this is one of my best shots.  And I thought the composition was not good, I was only trying to capture the clouds rapidly changing course  while passing through my lens. Then came this bird gliding rapidly, making itself framed inside the tie wires which we used as trellis  at the back of the house. This is a raw shot and it reminds me of  how it is to be free, unhampered by any extra baggage, reaching one’s destination by sheer determination and grace. It is the art of flying.

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Happy Pentecost Sunday

Today is Pentecost Sunday, it’s the birthday of our Church. I actually attended two morning masses. Early this morning I caught Fr. Fernando Suarez on his 6am mass on television. I always love listening to him every chance I get because I love how he shares his reflections in his wonderful homilies.  He emphasized that spiritual healing is more important than a physical one.  When you are spiritually healed, you find peace.  I also attended the 7:30 am mass at St. Jude Thaddeus Parish, a five-minute tricycle ride from our place.

I borrowed our profile picture from our apostolate page, Apostles Filipino Catholic Community where I am one of the admins.  It’s a public  page where we post reflections, Catholic news, daily gospel readings and inspirational quotes every day.  Updating it really makes my stay at FB worthwhile. And here’s my short spiritual reflection for the day:

God is love. God is joy. God is peace. Let love, joy and peace reign in our hearts forever.

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Remembering My Grandmother (And Celebrating My 4th Year Of Blogging)

I came across this program early this morning on PTV4, a government-owned channel that featured  ASEAN member countries. It made me quite nostalgic seeing those features on handicrafts and hand-made products using materials which are locally grown.  I remember the early years of childhood when I was growing up in the province. Back then, my mom used to stay a lot with Dad here in Manila so my older brother and I were left to the care of our maternal grandma until both of us graduated from grade school and we transferred to UST to spend our high school years there. Growing up having a simple life made me appreciate simple things and embraced what I learned early on.

A friend posted a prayer in our group accompanied by this beautiful painting of a mother and child. Coincidence?  Maybe. I planned earlier to blog about mat weaving which I learned from Baing Cion  (Bai or Baing is the local equivalent of a grandmother in our Pangasinan dialect).

This is called Mag-ina sa Banig, a 1960 painting done by Nestor Leynes.  I thought this is a perfect capture  of  the simplicity of provincial  life forty or so years ago. No aircon to speak of, no TV disruption to idle your time away. That bamboo flooring was enough to enjoy an uninterrupted sleep. It was always cool to the touch and so easy to clean. Buffing it with semi-dried banana leaves was enough.

My grandma  taught me how to weave sleeping mats  ( like the one you see in the picture) made of buri palm which we had plenty of  back then. We would gather buri palms, dry them in the sun then remove the middle portion when they are dried, roll them one by one into as big as a plate then when it is time to weave a mat, we would cut them into long strips by using  wood-mounted razor blades for uniform width. More than learning the art of weaving, I enjoyed those endless stories which would usually start  during the 2nd World War and how they survived as a family and always ends with how she raised her kids with the emphasis on Mom being the brightest of the four girls.

Oh, I almost forgot, today I celebrate my 4th year at WordPress as a blogger. The first two years were mostly about my journey as a cancer patient/survivor and the next two were random entries about life, faith, gardening, photography and such. Life is good and I am well. Thank God for all the wonderful blessings.

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