Love Like Physics

You are a believer of possibilities:
Of the either-or and the in-betweens.
Carefully calculating where you and I shall land,
But no visible target in sight.

While I, a believer of certainties and
Predetermined realities constantly
Challenge your philosophies and logic.

We are believers
And nonbelievers at the same time.
But neither willing to take a leap of faith
On each other and on us.

I am an Einstein.
And you are a Bohr.

And you make our love like a quantum theory.
Despite distance we are inextricably linked,
Spinning in our own orbits,
Yet entangled by the spooky action of an unseen universe.

Randomly romantic.
Ridiculously uncertain.

Playing Parsifal

Catharsis came quite unexpectedly. An innocent dinner conversation led to the breaking of a dam of feelings that I have long repressed and kept hidden from him. I am pretty sure he didn’t see it coming either. After all we were meeting for dinner as a way to wind down a busy and stressful day.

We had resumed the friendship that he and I had abandoned a while back. We had agreed to stop seeing each other until all the feelings had all but disappeared. It was safer that way—we needed to purge ourselves of a crazy attraction that had initially brought us together but has also become our undoing.

It tore me apart, being with him and being apart from him. It was a classic case of “can’t live with, can’t live without.” Though mutually agreed upon, there were a lot of things that had been left unsaid, and at the time, I didn’t know if I would even have the chance to do so.

Until last week, when over a dinner of grilled meats and hummus and baba ganoush, and a cheery banter I was suddenly struck with audacity to finally ask him, why he did what he did. To my defense, it wasn’t something I had sprung on him from out of the blue, our conversation topic were sort of touching on a delicate and touchy part of what had been our relationship.

“Where is this leading to?” he asked as I pried him. “I just want to understand,” I replied. But of course, he was already on the defensive. But I will not let it go. It was now or never.

Squirming in his seat, he tried to offer his side of things, though missing the point entirely. He was evasive, and then he turned the tables on me. It was my chance for closure, and I took it.

The words came out slow at first, painful, an ominous trickle of what would come out next. Then it came in torrents, and I had said almost everything that I had wanted to tell him all these years. My words silenced him, and I myself fell silent. It was all I could do to keep myself from crying. I never cried in front of him the whole time we were together, I wasn’t about to start now. Besides, the place was too public, and I wasn’t one to create a scene.

I opened a can of worms, that’s for sure. “Can we talk about something lighter?” he asked after a period of awkward quiet. “Sure,” I said. Try we did, but we couldn’t go back to that safe place again.

In the car, he asked if I was okay. I said yes. I asked him back. He said yes.

I highly doubt that we were.

As I pulled into the driveway of his hotel, the doorman came quickly to his side to open the door. He motioned to him to give him a few moments. We just sat there, not knowing what to say to the other. Finally he said, “I’ll be back in a few weeks.” I nodded. Then he said it again, “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, you just said that,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, “because I will be back in a few weeks.”

“I’ll see you,” I finally had to say.

Then he drew close to kiss me, one on every cheek. I hugged him tight as he did so, and he held me. For a moment, nothing existed outside of that embrace, at least for me.

Funny is, he never offered any kind of explanation nor apologies for what happened to us. His face was contrite, as were his kisses. Still, I don’t know if I got through him, or whether his actions were a way to console me, or if his silence said everything he could not admit to me.

I don’t know how this will ultimately affect us, whether for good or bad. I don’t know if this will bring us closer, or break the tenuous ties of our friendship. I don’t know if it was right for me to resurrect what has already been laid to (un)rest, and if forgiveness will finally come for both of us.

But I did feel a sense of freedom. And that’s enough, at least for now.

Die Laughing

I caught a rerun of SNL with the hilarious Tina Fey guesting on that episode. What can I say? Tina Fey rocks!

A final clip of the show was the perfect ending in more ways than one. On a more personal note, this brownie husband is really becoming quite an attractive option. It beats the hell out of other real men!

Song of the Moment II

In light of recent events, I bring you Crystal Castles and their cover of Not In Love, featuring the inimitable Robert Smith.

'Nuff said...

Not In Love
i saw your picture hangin' on the back of my door
won't give you my heart
no one lives there anymore
and we were lovers
now we can't be friends
fascination ends
here we go again
cause it's cold outside, when you coming home
cause it's hot inside, isn't that enough

i'm not in love

could it be that time has taken it's toll
won't take you so far, i am in control
and we were lovers
now we can't be friends
fascination ends
here we go again
cause it's cold outside, when you coming home
cause it's hot inside, isn't that enough

i'm not in love
i'm not in love
i'm not in love
we are not in love
we are not in love
we are not in love
we are not in love

Coolness...!!

As i was replying to an email, one of the Google ads placed on the page caught my attention—free Mayan astrology. I thought for a second or two whether I should click on it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist it. And if don’t click on it, it will nag on me for a long time. So, I thought, “Why the hell not?”

This is what they had to say about me:

"Female authority is the keyword that best describes this day number of Mayan astrology. Basically the natives of this number are sensitive, emotional and artistic. This number is looked upon for its patience. The energy of this number can help you gain better opportunities at work and thus prove your talents and skills. Nine persons are masters in completing all kinds of incomplete tasks.

Seed is the fourth sign of Mayan astrology and signifies the South. Seed people are known as the performers. Fulfilling your sexual desires and being independent are the two things you crave for throughout your life. You set high standard goals for yourself and always make it a point to achieve it at any cost. Self-esteem is something which the Seed folks are very much concerned about. You are very much attached to your family and can go to any extreme in order to bring peace and happiness to your family. As individuals the Seed people are always successful in starting off new ventures, signing new contracts or entering into any new business deals. You love to work as social workers and public defenders and try to unite the whole community either through your hard work or by using the secret influences of somebody else. Courage and gratefulness are their characteristic traits which make these people simply outstanding.

Regarding a nurturing attitude, these people are similar to Red Dragon people to some extent. You always want to sow the seeds of enlightenment, humanitarian ideas and benevolence so that everyone can reap a reach harvest eventually. From the projects you undertake, others would derive sustenance and nourishment. You are endowed with great teaching abilities and you may even be a pioneer in this field by incorporating new and useful concepts. Coming in touch with you can be a spiritually enriching experience for your disciples. Yellow Seeds are teachers and nurturers. Tend your seeds well today and pay proper attention so that you can enjoy beautiful blooms tomorrow. You may find problem dealing with White Wizard. You are most compatible with Blue Eagle persons."

Were they right? I guess what makes this thing fun is that they always contain a kernel of truth. Haha

Now, I just have to find myself a Blue Eagle person...does that mean, I'm good with people from Ateneo? Hmmm...

An Education

“Paano ba maging teacher?” (How do you become a teacher?) Karla asked through a text message. Through my sleepy haze, I began to type in my reply. Midway through it, I stopped, as I tried to figure exactly what she asking me. I replied back: “Is this a practical, or a philosophical, or perhaps a metaphysical question?”

It was a simple how-to question, she says. But the question stuck, and it did make me think, how do you really become a teacher? Is it a simple matter of being hired as a teacher, and getting teaching load assignments; or getting in front of a class, and giving them their lesson for the day? Is there more to being a teacher?

How do you even begin to want to become one? Does anyone really consciously choose to be a teacher? Or is it one of those professions that you fall into?

In my case (yes, I am a teacher), I knew I wanted to teach early on. Both my parents were educators and though they gave us the freedom to choose whatever it is we wanted, perhaps without even realizing it, they had influenced all of their children to get into teaching. I took interior design as my degree but I also knew that I wanted to teach college. It took me quite a long time to get to it, but for the last three years, I have been teaching interior design at the Mapua Institute of Technology.

The first time I taught, I felt that I had been a disaster. I felt as if I just wasn’t getting through to anyone. I used to joke that my students were like Teflon—nothing sticks, but inside, I felt so inadequate.

Even as I was already considering throwing in the towel, I took it as a challenge. And though I still find teaching to be generally difficult, I find that there are these moments of light, when it seems that everything that you go through with these kids are just worth it.

More than a week ago, the first batch of interior design students that I handled held their graduating exhibit. As their class adviser, it was one of my proudest moments as a teacher, and though I may not be the only one who exerted sole influence on them, somehow I felt that maybe I had something to do with it.

Maybe this is how it feels to be a parent.

It made me feel my age. But somehow, I didn’t mind it one bit.

Being a teacher is not an easy thing, there’s just so much responsibility that comes with it. I’m recalling this ad campaign by Nat Geo with Gang Badoy (another teacher), and she raises the question, “who dreams about being a teacher?” I did. Maybe, this was what I was meant to do, or at least one of the things I was meant to do. As I ponder on this, I’m simply thankful for the chance given me.

Click on this link to see pictures of the MIT Interior Design Exhibit 2011.

Song of the Moment

In the light of what I had previously written and my confusion as to whether I should greet him or not, this song by Don Henley (and later on covered by India Arie) has been a staple with my cosmic dj. It just keeps popping up. And I'm thinking, is this a sign or just another random song?

I still haven't decided.

Heart of the Matter

I got the call today that I didn't wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old, true friend of ours was talkin' on the phone
She said you'd found someone

And I thought of all the bad luck
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you

What are these voices outside love's open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

I'm learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again

I've been tryin' to get down
To the heart of the matter but my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

Ah, these times are so uncertain
There's a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?

Ah, the trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
They're the very things we kill I guess
Ohh, pride and competition cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesn't keep me warm

I'm learning to live without you now
But I miss you, baby
And the more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I'd figured out, I have to learn again

I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter
But everything changes and my friends seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

There are people in your life who've come and gone
They let you down, you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby, 'cause' life goes on
If you keep carryin' that anger, it'll eat you up inside, baby

I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me

I've been tryin' to get down to the heart of the matter
Because the flesh will get weak and the ashes will scatter
So I'm thinkin' about forgiveness, forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me

Grieve and Greet

My phone's alarm went off, as I reached to turn it off, I read the reminder that flashed across the screen: today is your birthday.

For weeks, I anticipated this event, wondering if I will get to greet you, if circumstance will allow me to say happy birthday to you. I honestly thought I would, especially since I heard you were back. I even thought that maybe that was the reason you came back, so close to your birthday. I'm remembering the last time we were together and as I told you that that would be the last time we would spend time together, you whispered, "there's still my birthday."

Yet I was told earlier, you had come yesterday and already gone. There was no phone call, no request to see me, nothing at all. Then it finally hit me: we really are over.

Not that I never really thought of us being in that state. After all, it's been seven months since we saw each other last and four months since we spoke. But somehow I thought you would always come back. It was only a matter of time, that you were only biding your time. Little did I realize that time had finally run out for us.

I'm recalling a line from Graham Greene's End of the Affair. Sara writes in her diary: "I might have taken a lifetime spending a little love at a time, eking it out here and there, on this man and that. But even the first time, we spent all we had."

Have we really spent everything that we had?

Can we ever go back, even halfway?

I write this entry because I'm unable to reach you, though I hope my words will find a way to you in some way or another. And if by some strange twist of fate that it does, know that I remembered you, on this day and always.

Stealing Blind

Someone stole something from me today. It was my mobile phone, my old one to be exact. I had gotten a new one for my birthday last year, but I had continued using the old one as a way of separating my business contacts from my personal contacts.

That phone has been with me for the last three years, the SIM I used on that phone had been with me far longer. Needless to say, that phone and I had history. It contained my history for the better part of the decade.

So it pisses me a great deal to lose it, and what’s worse was that it was stolen from under my nose. The man who stole it casually walked into our store, under pretense that he was in need of help. He was representing a sports league that needed uniforms. I had politely declined, knowing better that sometimes these types of solicitations were completely bogus. Yet he insisted, and I thought simply, that he was just one of those pesky people who couldn’t take no for an answer. And between his incessant begging and polite declinations, I don’t when and how he managed to get his hands on my phone that was laying on the counter, a bit obscured by my pile of stuff. He did everything on a sly. How could I have been so stupid?

I had only realized that my phone was gone, when my sister was calling me on my other line, and told me that she had called my other phone and some guy kept picking up.
I rang my phone to check whether I had just misplaced it, or if it was lost in the jungle that is my handbag. But someone did pick up. It was him. And he pretended that he couldn’t hear me, though clearly taunting me.

I didn’t hang up, instead I told him he could keep the phone, he just needs to give me back my SIM card. I know it was futile to ask a thief to return something of value, but I just had to ask. That phone probably contained more information than that person’s brain could have stored in his entire lifetime.

Then it started. He kept telling me how he thought I was attractive, that he couldn’t keep his eyes off me, that he had to take my phone because he knew I would call my number and that he’d be able to talk to me again. He was bargaining- me for the phone.
And I swear if I could just reach through the line, I would have slit that guy’s throat. I am not a violent person. Nor do I endorse it. And I have no plans of committing murder over a phone. But the things that he said…

I know that what he said was meant to intimidate me. He was threatening to do me violence. Though I admit I was scared, I was so angry. But I was all the more angry that I felt so impotent in my anger.

How could people lose their sense of empathy and humanity? How could anyone simply take something just because they want something, and just because they can? How could you a person feel so comfortable at wanting to hurt other people and feel so blatantly proud about it?

How could they live with themselves? How could they face themselves in the mirror? Do they even own mirrors at all?

I am pretty certain that I will never see my old trusty phone again. Though the whole incident has left me so upset, I will try to rest on the idea that that man will someday his comeuppance. And I fervently hope that it hits him soon. Fast. Hard.

A Send-Off

I met William through Karla. They were very good friends. Theirs was a friendship borne out of unfortunate circumstances. Short of saying, their friendship was forged in fire. I, on the other hand, was a friend by way of association. But nevertheless, he quickly endeared himself to me.

How could he not? He was smart, funny, good looking, and just about the sweetest thing. And he was the sweetest thing. He was as Karla describes him, “the perfect guy”. I couldn’t agree more. During the few times we went out with him, I would jokingly refer to him as my boyfriend. He never seemed to mind. In fact he would gamely go along with it, even though we both knew I could never be his type. I could only sigh and wish that William were straight.

So our loss was another team’s gain. There was nothing that could be done about that.
But yesterday, both teams experienced a loss. Being Black Saturday, it was made more black by William’s unexpected passing. It was meningitis, and it struck him down as quickly as it had come to him. No one saw it coming. And all of us who knew him, couldn’t understand what could be gained from it.

I couldn’t claim to be a close friend, out of respect for those who knew him really well. But he has touched my life, as he had countless others, and I could all honestly say that my life had been enriched because of that, no matter how brief it had been.
The whole Christian world celebrated Easter today. I woke up praying for some kind of Easter miracle—that somehow I would receive a text message saying William had miraculously survived, and he is well. Obviously, it was not to be.

This is the irony—No resurrection at a day we rejoice at its alleged possibility.

They say everything happens for a reason though we may not understand it at the time. No matter how much it hurts or doesn’t make any sense, all we can do is to trust that whatever has happened, it will serve a bigger purpose.

This is not a eulogy. I choose to believe that William is not dead. He is alive and forever young in our minds and hearts.

So goodnight and so long, William, sweet prince. You will be missed.

Faux Friendship

Is friendship really possible after the good of a romance has gone? And if so, how exactly do you begin to be friends without falling into the trap of being more than that? What would be the defining parameters? What can you, and can’t you expect from either side?

“Why don’t you call, when you say you will? Is it because I don’t belong to you anymore?” sings Rachael Yamagata. She sings my sentiments, but I also do know that I can’t oblige him to do that, or even be upset when he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you come? Don’t you miss me at all?” Rachael’s smoky voice wafts through the nebulae of my mind. He said he was due to arrive today, I look at my phone’s inbox to read his message to confirm, and there it is, a timebomb of a date. I waited for it to blow up, but the explosion, a message to ask me to see him never comes.

Has he forgotten? Was he just too busy? Or did he not want to see me again? But more importantly, why am I still waiting? Why am I worried that I won’t see him? If he is just a friend, then I would be fine even if we go without seeing each other for months. It wouldn’t matter.

But I am a liar. It does matter to me if he calls. I count the days leading to his arrival. I imagine what I will be wearing, his reaction when he sees me, the conversation we’ll have over dinner, the banter, the now chaste kiss goodnight.

Rummaging through things that are not mine, I see it. An email advising he won’t be able to make it for the appointment. His schedule is too tight. He is needed somewhere, someplace else.

Yet I need him here. And his place is as vacant as the memories that we are supposed to make. His absence is a hole, a tear in this precarious reality I conjure. His silence is loud and screaming.

“We can only be friends now,” I told him. “This is friendship or nothing,” I voiced an ultimatum. He complies, and I hate him for doing so.

I may have lied, but I lied for a good reason. I want something real with him. And what we had before, though he may argue otherwise, was far from real to me. “Just because you label this differently from me, doesn’t mean it’s nothing to me. It’s just semantics,” he told me before.

But I didn’t believe him. How could I? Intellectualizing this whole affair, he was. Semantics, my ass.

So I gave the ultimatum, in the belief that if I pushed him towards the side of friendship, then I would finally have something real, something honest. Something I can hold.

It is a lie. And sadly, it is only I who believe it.

The Dark Side

"I think he's some sort of crazy,"I told S.

"I think so too," S. agrees.

"No, I mean, crazy, crazy," I said, referring to a recent phone conversation I had with him.

Of course, it's quite mean of me to think of him that way. He has a darkness to him, but doesn't everyone? And perhaps, one reason why I would choose to think of him as crazy is because until now, i couldn't quite figure him out. He is a narcissist, that much I can tell. Besides that, it's anyone's guess.

Then, eureka.

While watching en episode of Criminal Minds, one of the characters, S.A. Rossi profiles an unsub as someone with the Dark Triad. In psychology, the Dark Triad is characterized as Narcissism, Machiavellianism and Psychopathy.

Bingo.

So in the interest of knowledge, I googled the symptoms and tried to see if it would correspond to his behavior. Did it? I think i'm just gonna keep the results to myself.
But I did chance upon an online test gauging how much tendency you have of being a psycho. It tests whether the Dark Triad is present in an individual.

Of course, it is a pop quiz and totally unreliable. But who knows, it may contain a shred of truth to it. So I took it, and the results are posted below:

Not really a psycho

You scored 9 on Emotional Detachment and 7 on Chaotic Lifestyle!
Relax, you are quite healthy. You are emotionally stable and you lead a normal life, as far as conditions allow. You may have other problems (if you score too low on detachment, you may be oversensitive or lack self-esteem, if you score too low on chaotism, you may be pedantic or rigid) but psychopathy is not one of them.

If your combined score is 5 or less, you are completely average compared to general population. If your combined score is 20 or more, you have a mind of a true criminal. If your combined score is 30 or more, you have a mind of a psycho.

Your Analysis (Vertical line = Average)


*Detachment Distribution
You scored 9% on Detachment, higher than 31% of your peers.

* Chaotism Distribution
You scored 7% on Chaotism, higher than 15% of your peers.


So i guess, i am quite simply, an average person with but a few issues. Take the test, if only for fun. I dare you. http://www.okcupid.com/tests/the-psychopathy-test

Breaking the Silence

It’s been ages since I’ve written anything. I missed it but then again I had been too busy to miss anything except sleep, and not doing anything. Okay, that might be stretching it a bit too much, because yeah, I miss more than a just few things and a few people.

But what I am getting at is that I simply had no time, and more importantly, I had nothing new to say. Yeah, sure, I’ve flown to places, did stuff, met new people (dated may be a more appropriate term) but it seemed that I never exactly left and the more people I see, the more that I just wanted to be alone. Bottom line is, I don’t want to keep rewriting things here, rehashing old themes, old emotions. I told myself that until I have something fresh to say, I won’t say anything at all.

Then a few weeks ago, it happened. Something new happened. I started dancing. To most people, this would have earned a raised eyebrow and a “so what?” expression. Dancing? That’s it? That’s the new thing? But to me, it is something new, as I’ve never really taken to dancing, at least not counting the time I took Hawaiian dances during the fourth grade. I just never really thought myself as very coordinated, or graceful enough; and dancing remained to be one of my biggest frustrations. I always wished my mom had enrolled me in ballet rather than in music lesson, which I really didn’t get to use except during the time I was studying it.

Anyways, to make the long story short, I enrolled myself in a dance studio and decided once and for all to stop whining about wanting to dance and just get into it…finally. I wanted to learn the basics, loosen my rusty and creaking joints and muscles. I wanted a beginner course, and I took what seemed the easiest—striptease.

I took it mainly for two reasons: first, it has been built up to be as much as a fitness routine as it is dance. For someone who has an aversion to gym, it seems perfect. It is good exercise while it lends to certain degree of creativity. You don’t get that while pumping iron.

Second, I thought it was more practical. Heck, it’s not like I can jazz dance my way into anything, or suddenly prance around when I’m feeling it. That would probably buy me a ticket to the nuthouse. But striptease…well, that’s a different story. I could, ehem, dance my way to um…pleasure, so to speak. And if none of my efforts in my career pay off, well, it could offer me an alternative career. Harhar. Big laughs.

Besides, another reason (so I guess I have three) is that it fulfills a certain interest of mine: burlesque and pin-ups. For some reason, I’ve always harbored a secret desire (not so secret now) to do a pin-up pose or to dress up in classic burlesque or cabaret, and be a showgirl of some sorts. Don’t ask me why, I just do.

But little did I know, is that even though it may seem to be the easiest compared to belly dance, jazz or flamenco, it can be as demanding for someone who hasn’t had training in dance. The first time I attended the class, I almost burst into tears! I look at my instructor who seems to be double-jointed everywhere, and then I look at me, and I seem to be a plank of wood trying to dance! I felt as if all my control issues were showing through my dance. I was so self-conscious, I was embarrassed, I was terrible!

But I never felt so exhilarated. I was having fun. I was happy.

I vowed to get better at it. Three weeks into the class, my dance instructor tells me, “you’re improving!” and I felt like a puppy getting a tummy rub.

I am far from being the next finalist in “You think you can dance”, but who cares, I am having the time of my life. And heck if I’m gonna stop now.

Martyrdom is Not Dead

Overheard a conversation between two girls by the bathroom door in a bar in Ortigas:

Girl 1: (emphatically)"I don't know why, but despite what he's done and what we've been through, I still want him back."
Girl 2: "Really?"

I wanted to storm out of my cubicle, cut into the conversation, give Girl 1 a pat on the back and say: "I can totally relate...I don't know either."

The Final Denouement

And so it ends. Spain won over the Netherlands and my heart is broken. I’m not a big fan of the Netherlands, in fact, I had been rooting for another team—Argentina but they had been booted out of the race to the World Cup when Germany mowed them down with a 4-0 match.

But the final showdown between Spain and the Netherlands had me at the edge of my seat. More than 100 minutes had passed and still no one was winning, despite best efforts from each team. I was almost certain that a penalty shoot-out was in the offing, but that wasn’t to be as Spain hit the goal…finally. The status quo had been broken, but it also meant the clear possibility that the Dutch would lose.

The final moments were painful to watch. The Dutch knew it was a losing battle but they went on, fighting as if it was still possible to turn the tables around, as if they could sway the fates to grant them this win. After all, it had been so long since they won the Cup, and isn’t it time that they won?

But things will always be what life intends it to be, and so at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter whether you lose or win, but whether you stayed true to the game, and whether you had given it everything you had. It is about you.

The little devil on my shoulders whispers: “that’s just what losers say, isn’t it?” Maybe he’s right, or maybe he isn’t, but it definitely wouldn’t hurt to have the prize in your hands.

"Do you think you would have won?" the devil asked the dutchman. "No, I wouldn't," replied the Dutchman, "But the point is, I did fight."

Ad so it ended as soon as it begun, and my little distraction is gone. Strangers, we will be again just as we were at the start, until the time comes to meet again, somewhere in Brazil, sometime soon.

(Not So) Simple Wisdom

Karla seems to have gotten into the habit of lifting things off my blog and putting it in hers (No, Karla, I don't mind at all). And so, to get back at her (kidding!), I've decided to publish this one taken from her blog. We are members of the Mutual Admiration Club, Karla and I. But it still doesn't diminish the beauty and wisdom of Sadhguru (whoever he may be).

Sadhguru's Simple Sensibility

Devotion: is truly for the intelligent, not for the stupid because without devotion there is no profundity to your life.

Awareness: is aliveness. How aware you are, is how alive you are.

Being you: The fundamental problem with humanity is that everyone is trying to be special. Only when you become ordinary, like a tree, can a greater dimension of life open up to you.

This wanting to become special, this disease has come to people simply because they have not recognized the value of the uniqueness of their being.

Bliss: It doesn't matter who you are right now, how miserable you are right now, how disturbed you are right now. If you pay enough attention to your interiority, being blissful is a possibility for every human being.

Enlightenment: never happens.... It is there, it is always there.

Enlightenment need not always happen with a bang, it can happen quietly, it can be like a flower blossoming.

Freedom: Unless you are free from the process of your own mind, unless you are free from the process of your own body there is really no such thing as freedom.

If your happiness and your well-being are not subject to anybody or anything, only then are you free. Otherwise whether you are in a prison or walking outside on the street, you still are a prisoner within yourself.

If you’re seeking to live well, you should not talk about God. Only when your longing has become such that you want to know not just life but the very source of life, can you talk about God.

Everyone can love God, as He does not demand anything from you, but to love the one next to you right now costs life. It is a challenge. It takes much courage to do this.

Every human activity is in pursuit of happiness.

Intensity: You must be that kind of a person that even if they put you in Sahara desert, there also you must be successful with life available there.

People who have never been on fire will not know the coolness of water. People, who have just lived their life in a half-hearted manner, sedately, can never know the other way.

Involvement: You will never know the beauty of life unless you are deeply involved. At the same time, you cannot enjoy the beauty of involvement if you get attached. If you don’t get this subtle distinction, you will suffer.

The greatest crime a person can commit is to be a joyless person.

A joyful face is always beautiful anywhere in the world, whatever the shape of the nose, whatever the shape of your eyes, when you see a joyful face it’s a beautiful face.

Karma: Is not in what you have done or not what you have done. It is your volition. The, way you live. The way you are within yourself.

When you utter the word karma, it’s always about you; never about somebody. You have no business with somebody else’s karma.

Knowing: Only when you are torn, by the pain of not knowing, will knowing happen to you.

Leadership: Leadership can only give guidance and orientation, but it’s the people who have to make the difference. Every individual in whatever sphere of life he is in, whatever responsibility that he holds, whatever influence he has, he has to stand up and make it happen in his area.

Liberation: means becoming free from the very process of life, birth and death. It means becoming free form the basic structures of body and mind. For all these, the karmic structure is the string which holds them together.

Life: Life has come from a very beautiful source. If you remain in touch with that source, everything about you will be beautiful.

How deeply you can touch another life, is how rich your life is. May you have much opportunity to profoundly impact lives around you.

People try to create an outwardly perfect life, but quality of life is based on the inward.

Being alive is not a small thing; it is the greatest phenomena on the planet - not just on the planet, in this whole cosmos.

Love: is just a vehicle for oneness. What you are longing for is that oneness.

Mind: This mind is capable of takings to the peaks of what is possible by a human being but unfortunately we are using the mind to create ulcer, diabetes, misery, anger jealousy.

Collective unconsciousness means, if you go deep enough into your mind, there will be no such thing as my mind and your mind, there is just one mind.

Peace: Peace is not the ultimate attainment of life, but the very foundation of life, the birthright of all human beings.

Peace and Happiness are rooted neither in the marketplace nor the woods, but within.

When you do not know how to keep your body peaceful, when you do not know how to keep your mind peaceful, when you do not know how to keep your energies peaceful, world peace is just a joke.

If there are no peaceful human beings, there is no peaceful world. Maybe there is no killing right now, but people are torturing and killing themselves everyday in so many different ways. That’s bad enough, that’s worse than a war.

Once we are living on a planet with limited resources, and the whole thing that is driving our lives is the engine of economics, war is inevitable, peace is impossible.

Religion: We don’t need more Hindus, more Christians, more Muslims; we need Buddha’s, Jesus, Krishna’s, real ones. We need live ones. That is when true change will happen. And that potential every human being carries within himself. Who they were is also your innermost nature.

How can you love one and hate the other when the same divine exits in all. As many colors of the rainbow are an outcome of one pure light, the many religions of the world are an expression of one divine source. Religions of the world are not about one man’s belief against another. But an opportunity and a possibility for all humans of all hues and colors, of various stages of evolution, understanding, and experience to reach to their common ultimate source.

Seeking: You must seek constantly that which you know to be the highest. It doesn’t matter whether it is going to happen or not; simply living with the vision is an elevating experience and a joyous process in itself.

Self: Everything that you do is self-based. All your work, all your life is an expression of who you are.

You don't have to do anything, you don't have to think anything, and you don't have to feel anything to be complete. You are complete by yourself.

Spirituality: means to live with an alert intelligence.

When you say spirituality you want to progress on the existential level - not socially, not psychologically, and not emotionally. You are constantly seeing how to progress existentially.

Spirituality means you have started seeing life with utmost clarity, there are no more illusions about it; you see everything just the way it is.

To be spiritual means to be an emperor within you. This is the only way to be.

Tears have got nothing to do with sadness and pain. Whenever any experience becomes very intense, tears flow.

If tears of love, joy, and ecstasy have not washed your cheeks, you are yet to taste life.

Path: The path is the destination and the destination is hidden in the path as the creator is hidden in the creation.

The highest is also the simplest.

If you carry with you, what we are calling as Isha, right things start happening.

Being together is the beginning. Working together is the middle. Dissolving together is the ultimate.

Individual salvation is the only way for universal salvation.

Fear: If a person has no hope he is truly blessed, because that person has no fear of failure. Fear of missing out on something is totally not there in a person who doesn't hope.

If you want to enjoy the boons that are outside, you must do something about the inside. Otherwise, everything bypasses you

Truth: You cannot get to truth. You can never get to truth, but you can become truth.

Truth is not a conclusion. Truth is not somewhere you go. It is not a destination - it is just a living experience.

You can’t interpret truth, you can only experience it. You cannot understand truth; you can only dissolve into it. It’s not something that you grasp; it is something that you merge with.

Love is work in motion. Work is love in motion.

Only a man who works with intensity can know what rest is.

Work is an expression of who you are, so who you are needs to be worked at.

The Bliss of work is known only to those who have no need for action.

Today, with the tools of science and technology we have brought ourselves to a self-threatening situation that everybody in the society needs to turn spiritual; otherwise there is no survival for this world. With the kind of equipment, and capabilities that we have, it just takes one fool to blow it up- and there any number of those fools standing in the queue to get to the top.

No Big Surprise

I was introduced to this poem a little more than a decade ago. A friend gave me the Filipino translation by another Filipino poet/ writer Pete Lacaba, and i thought it was one of the saddest, most beautiful poems I've read. I'm still torn which is the better translation, this, or Pete Lacaba's.

This morning, I woke up with this poem in my head, reciting itself over and over.No, not a song, but a poem. I'm such a geek. But then again...

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines
Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her

Indeed...

This Filipino poet just took the words out of my mouth.

A Prayer, or Great Expectations
Fanny Haydee B. Llego

There's no doubt about it I need to get hitched:
I need someone to scratch me whenever I itch

Or give me a backrub whenever I want it
(Who'll pout only a little when someone else does it);

Someone on whom I can vent my frustrations
& who is supportive in trying situations;

Who'll extol all my virtues, forget all my faults
& would always submit to my sexual assaults;

Who'll bring up my children the way they should be
Yet still be entirely devoted to me;

Who'll always obey me, my word being law,
My logic, perfect; my thinking, without flaw;

My sexy cheerleader, housekeeper, accountant,
Secretary, nursemaid, unflagging assistant;

Brought up & moulded to think that success
Is found in the home: nothing more, nowhere else.

O, Mother Goddess, I need in my life
A man willing to be the perfect little wife!

Loveology

(with thanks to Regina Spektor for the title)

They say every person that comes into your life brings you a lesson to learn. Ever since this thing with Hugh started, a question had always lingered—What lesson do I need to learn from him? What is he meant to teach me?

I knew from the beginning there would be regrets when this thing ends. And I’m not being negative when I anticipate things ending or having regrets. It’s just a fact that I was faced with at the onset. There were no illusions that this was going to last. We both knew it was a temporary arrangement. But there was the hope that it would be otherwise, and being temporary didn’t make it any less painful.

As I found myself in that dark place once again, I tried to rationalize things, if only to offer myself some kind of consolation. If I could put everything within the confines of logic, then maybe I can finally make sense of things and make it hurt less. No such luck in that department, though.

But thinking and re-thinking, picking at the details make you realize certain things. And for the past few weeks, I think I’ve finally gotten to a semblance of understanding why he had to come into my life, at this time and in this way.

He taught me about desire. And how powerful desire could be. It was exciting and intoxicating. I was drunk with him and him with me. But no real love can exist with desire alone, and that I had to learn.

Ironically, too, he taught me about commitment. I half jokingly told S., “He’s committed to being non-commital.” That cracked her up. It just made me more sad. Sad to realize that I wanted it with him, that suddenly it didn’t seem too scary a prospect.

He opened me up in ways that no one did. I dared and took risks. “I’ve never seen you give yourself like this to anyone,” my sister said. “It’s good,” she says, “you’re finally learning to open up.”

He taught me about patience. God, I’ve given him chances more than I’ve given to anyone, despite my better judgment. But even with all the chances, there was no redemption, only disappointment. I could simply chalk everything up to three things: he just wasn’t ready, or he’s unwilling, or worse, he’s just plain incapable. Whatever the reason is, it hardly matters anymore.

“Maybe you had to go through this and him because he is the preparation for something better,” says my sister. Her words of wisdom offers little comfort right now. But it is another lesson this whole experience with him is teaching me—it is a lesson of faith. Faith that the future holds something much better, the big pay-off for all the struggles I had to contend with. Maybe next time, it will be my turn to win.

But lastly and more importantly, he’s trying to teach me about forgiveness. Although, it is one, I have yet to fully learn. Forgiveness for him, and all the shit he’s pulled. Forgiveness for myself and for whatever this whole thing had been. Wasn’t it Oprah who said, “forgiveness is the letting go of the hope that things could have been better,”?

Say When

Pain is the payment for every thing that’s precious, said one character from CSI NY. But pain, they say, is also the mechanism that tells you if something isn’t right, physical or otherwise. What do I make of it? What if pain is just pain, neither the price you pay or the friend you would like to think of? And it’s just there to spite you?

I am tired.