A book by Rhonda Byrne said: the thoughts you create generate frequencies which are sent out to the universe.... and the universe sends it back to the source ..which is you.
......... i guess that's how prayers and spells work. Generate positive thoughts and, by the law of attraction (as Ms. Byrne puts it), believe that you will receive them and affirm to yourself that you have receieved them indeed.....
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
That "Little Box" (according to "Kristina")
The City lights laid out below;
The streetlights that dot the distant and winding streets seem to tell their story with their mysteriously sequential blinking.
Nothing but the ground beneath us, and the glorious spray of twinkling starts above.
The air was other than nippy. It smelled of crisp chatter and plain curiosity, with some notes of querry, added to it some hints of a budding...
It felt much more than warm being wrapped around those arms.
The closest thing to be and at such a wonderful, lofty place.
Framed by a lone pine, parked wheels,and a silent structure by the rear... cast against a background of lights from the town below that seem to meet with those that dot the night sky.
The feeling of being hushed just to let the wind have her say...hung like notes that play on my ear..
That same hush made the fact be heard and felt.. that for that one special moment... not one was anybody else's. Each one belonged to the moment. Each one belonged to that poetry of a picture.. that formed part of such happy package for reverie....
The streetlights that dot the distant and winding streets seem to tell their story with their mysteriously sequential blinking.
Nothing but the ground beneath us, and the glorious spray of twinkling starts above.
The air was other than nippy. It smelled of crisp chatter and plain curiosity, with some notes of querry, added to it some hints of a budding...
It felt much more than warm being wrapped around those arms.
The closest thing to be and at such a wonderful, lofty place.
Framed by a lone pine, parked wheels,and a silent structure by the rear... cast against a background of lights from the town below that seem to meet with those that dot the night sky.
The feeling of being hushed just to let the wind have her say...hung like notes that play on my ear..
That same hush made the fact be heard and felt.. that for that one special moment... not one was anybody else's. Each one belonged to the moment. Each one belonged to that poetry of a picture.. that formed part of such happy package for reverie....
Sunday, March 22, 2009
"I know i have my faults. They shine more and store better on those grey crevices of a certain mind. These faults that come to stay and play like records each time any of my acts push the play-button– thank you for that pre-programmed thinking!!! Whatever happened to the understanding and embracing all of one’s being part? I dont just deserve painful pokes for changes. I deserve genuine, unprejudiced understanding."
Could I really be an obstinate woman who deserves no less than a severred tie from a choice i made back then thinking I could bear it all a' la Hercules?
When I know my faults, i wish people would hear me out before they start the blah or even after they give me the feast of angertalks they way they do.
Whatever happens, all i could say is... I would want to have people who would help me love myself without having to be another person other than myself just to please them. I would love to be with people who make me a better person, confident and loving.... not this sorry schmuck that i am, dazed and meandering, unsure of how to get to my goals the way i wanted it.
Could I really be an obstinate woman who deserves no less than a severred tie from a choice i made back then thinking I could bear it all a' la Hercules?
When I know my faults, i wish people would hear me out before they start the blah or even after they give me the feast of angertalks they way they do.
Whatever happens, all i could say is... I would want to have people who would help me love myself without having to be another person other than myself just to please them. I would love to be with people who make me a better person, confident and loving.... not this sorry schmuck that i am, dazed and meandering, unsure of how to get to my goals the way i wanted it.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Huling Hirit
Save the best for last. But when you almost thought you would finally make it through unscathed, unscorched... this hand of circumstance come puncing on you.
You cant always say it's good enough to last... but all you can be is thankful for that moment. No matter how brief, you'd always have it in a box inside your memory... that you could bring it out and look at it all over again...remembering, feeling the feeling, hearing the music,...and smiling like silly....
You cant always say it's good enough to last... but all you can be is thankful for that moment. No matter how brief, you'd always have it in a box inside your memory... that you could bring it out and look at it all over again...remembering, feeling the feeling, hearing the music,...and smiling like silly....
The spell i played... that spilled on me...
The moon was out and round on a tuesday evening. Hazy, grayish overcast skies struggle to stiffle the lunar chants of that pale light slated to last till daylight.
ANd there I stood beneath the glow, taking every wondrous light that i could, with eyes closed and head tilted up to the sky.
I looked down, my aventurine, tigereye and citrine charms in hand. Yes, i realized they too need the charging powers. So i left them dangling till morning on a citrus shrub where no one knew ... by the light of the moon.
Let the light of the moon come to me. Let its powerful warmth flow through me.. i need the power, i need the healing. I need the reckoning that I desperately search for...
I played the games the earth would actually hear. I played it against the tides of ancient rules not knowing where it could lead me. I lit up candles, i chanted some prayers.and never forgot the erswhile line "that harm be done to no one".
And how the wind carried the prayers , i may never know. I cast the spell to one I totally didnt knew... Look what the wind carried back, along with the forces called by the moon. The spell i played.. knocked and spilled on me.
The wind must be angry.. or were my prayers too strong. Or was i too deaf when the the chants began... was i chanting for something i couldnt actually hear? Was i splaying this plea that I couldnt actually fathom?
Alas , the deities must know what i must learn. For the spell i played... got spilled on me.
Friday, March 6, 2009
That One Tribute Night!
[caption id="attachment_81" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lea calls it the dream team. Couldnt find a better term for this!!!"]
[/caption]
....I left late for the gym, clueless on what to wear..had to visit a friend before her chemotherapy...and anticipating that night's affair. ...
And so I came underdressed and face half-made.
While almost everybody came in dressed up to the nines.
I was just too dang excited at the group perf that night..
yes, so excited i though i could wear just that to the gym!!!
I thought i was the only one ecstatic..... left the palce smiling...scoured the night bars for a spot with some friends...and ended up at nevada dancing till 3am... as yas texted when we all split up for rest that dawn: my ears are ringing and i super stink... but i had fun.... Thanks, Yas... had a blast too!!! ...
[/caption]....I left late for the gym, clueless on what to wear..had to visit a friend before her chemotherapy...and anticipating that night's affair. ...
And so I came underdressed and face half-made.
While almost everybody came in dressed up to the nines.
I was just too dang excited at the group perf that night..
yes, so excited i though i could wear just that to the gym!!!
I thought i was the only one ecstatic..... left the palce smiling...scoured the night bars for a spot with some friends...and ended up at nevada dancing till 3am... as yas texted when we all split up for rest that dawn: my ears are ringing and i super stink... but i had fun.... Thanks, Yas... had a blast too!!! ...
The Blue of my pains...
I know I am not that perfect, I am as flawed a woman as anybody could see.. I guess. I live my life thinking i must be happy with a path and a choice i made some years back....believing in the good of people... and that someday, i might not be able to look back and think about that other way i did not choose. ...
The path not taken, the decision to stay and believe and convince one's self that it must have been better than deciding to have the strength to gather myself and walk away.
...and as i look at that blue spot on the shin...like it's telling me straight to my face that this is what i chose, this is what i must bear.
Yet is it worng to think that I know I must deserve more than this. I deserve more than a hook-line -and -sinker approach to the culture of submissivenes in my midst. Is it wrong to think that i deserve to have the right to speak up and feel what i want instead of sitting with head bent listening to the masculine rants of the supposed pillars while my sanity and ego get trampled on under the thundrous temper I so believe I do not deserve.
I deserve a good conversation. I deserve a wider understanding. i deserve a less-myopic approach to my explanations which are in fact truths!!! I deserve a pause... a sabbatical....a respite.....or at least my own solace...
Because the more the blue emerges from the skin, the more it reminds me ... that hands can reach me through undeserved temper.. that words could hit me like blows to my mind and heart...pounding on me --- spelling out pride and obstinacy and culture-crap-full of standards that gag venuses and make them chew the bitter cud of choice ... and acceptance....
I know i have my faults. They shine more and store better on those grey crevices of a certain mind. These faults that come to stay and play like records each time any of my acts push the play-button-- thank you for that pre-programmed thinking!!! Whatever happened to the understanding and embracing all of one's being part? I dont just deserve painful pokes for changes. I deserve genuine, unprejudiced understanding.
Yet with the blue beneath the skin, the sharp and painful pang with each hatred-ridden word, the pride and blinding temper.... all together just feels the same to me.
The path not taken, the decision to stay and believe and convince one's self that it must have been better than deciding to have the strength to gather myself and walk away.
...and as i look at that blue spot on the shin...like it's telling me straight to my face that this is what i chose, this is what i must bear.
Yet is it worng to think that I know I must deserve more than this. I deserve more than a hook-line -and -sinker approach to the culture of submissivenes in my midst. Is it wrong to think that i deserve to have the right to speak up and feel what i want instead of sitting with head bent listening to the masculine rants of the supposed pillars while my sanity and ego get trampled on under the thundrous temper I so believe I do not deserve.
I deserve a good conversation. I deserve a wider understanding. i deserve a less-myopic approach to my explanations which are in fact truths!!! I deserve a pause... a sabbatical....a respite.....or at least my own solace...
Because the more the blue emerges from the skin, the more it reminds me ... that hands can reach me through undeserved temper.. that words could hit me like blows to my mind and heart...pounding on me --- spelling out pride and obstinacy and culture-crap-full of standards that gag venuses and make them chew the bitter cud of choice ... and acceptance....
I know i have my faults. They shine more and store better on those grey crevices of a certain mind. These faults that come to stay and play like records each time any of my acts push the play-button-- thank you for that pre-programmed thinking!!! Whatever happened to the understanding and embracing all of one's being part? I dont just deserve painful pokes for changes. I deserve genuine, unprejudiced understanding.
Yet with the blue beneath the skin, the sharp and painful pang with each hatred-ridden word, the pride and blinding temper.... all together just feels the same to me.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The (Suya) Festival....
As Yas said last weekend at Tangerine, "walang taga baguio na lumalabas pag panagbenga".
Yes. Because the streets are crammed with cars, and tourists who just dont care where to sit or walk or throw their litter, the way baguio people do.
Because watching the parade meant elbowing with the crowd of tourists who give you the lame excuse of "galing pa kame sa malayo, pagbigyan nyo na kameh..." as they inch their way past you (who happen to be in front) and block your view with their hydrocephalic heads.
Because the floats this year had "crisis" spelled over them....and the dancers wear fake flowers more and more each year.
Because the "theme dance" of the festival which is supposed to be "BENDIAN" is lost, soooo lost. Instead, what you see is an emerging theme of boring "ati-atihan " style of dance....which is not sooooo Baguio (uh, yes.... not sooo CORDILLERAN). Imagine Hearing "Viva, Panagbehhnga Festival! Umali kayohh". (like, huwat the furrr is that supposed to mean?!).
Because while the parks hold concerts, it also becomes a haven for snivelling and insecure people pulling up tons of LOSER MOVES ...ie... "frat scuffles"; hanging wet towels on poor sunflower stems; stepping on pocket gardens; parking their motorbikes up on the lawn!!!!;
Because you don't really get excited at the sight of celebrities smacked dab on the floats....
Because media people, and other "civic organizations" use their IDs and gadgets for an excuse to loiter at the parade route to the dismay of streetdancers and watchers alike.
Because you'd be hiking like hell to town because streets are closed... and your jeep hopelessly gets stuck in traffic.
PS: I am not bitter..... just sad. I miss the King Louie floats, the BSU symbidiums; the Chow King and Center Mall floats; the elderly dancing the bendian with their fresh flower-filled Kayyabangs and donning their special tapis; Alapo Mang-usan and his dance troupe of young and old with their gongs and in original G-string attire (the way you wear it: no undies, pure fabric looped and wrapped and knotted, plus the cheeks and all that flesh!!!)....
Yes. Because the streets are crammed with cars, and tourists who just dont care where to sit or walk or throw their litter, the way baguio people do.
Because watching the parade meant elbowing with the crowd of tourists who give you the lame excuse of "galing pa kame sa malayo, pagbigyan nyo na kameh..." as they inch their way past you (who happen to be in front) and block your view with their hydrocephalic heads.
Because the floats this year had "crisis" spelled over them....and the dancers wear fake flowers more and more each year.
Because the "theme dance" of the festival which is supposed to be "BENDIAN" is lost, soooo lost. Instead, what you see is an emerging theme of boring "ati-atihan " style of dance....which is not sooooo Baguio (uh, yes.... not sooo CORDILLERAN). Imagine Hearing "Viva, Panagbehhnga Festival! Umali kayohh". (like, huwat the furrr is that supposed to mean?!).
Because while the parks hold concerts, it also becomes a haven for snivelling and insecure people pulling up tons of LOSER MOVES ...ie... "frat scuffles"; hanging wet towels on poor sunflower stems; stepping on pocket gardens; parking their motorbikes up on the lawn!!!!;
Because you don't really get excited at the sight of celebrities smacked dab on the floats....
Because media people, and other "civic organizations" use their IDs and gadgets for an excuse to loiter at the parade route to the dismay of streetdancers and watchers alike.
Because you'd be hiking like hell to town because streets are closed... and your jeep hopelessly gets stuck in traffic.
PS: I am not bitter..... just sad. I miss the King Louie floats, the BSU symbidiums; the Chow King and Center Mall floats; the elderly dancing the bendian with their fresh flower-filled Kayyabangs and donning their special tapis; Alapo Mang-usan and his dance troupe of young and old with their gongs and in original G-string attire (the way you wear it: no undies, pure fabric looped and wrapped and knotted, plus the cheeks and all that flesh!!!)....
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