Weekly Photo Challenge: Scale “Show how big or small you can feel in a photo..
Category Archives: Thoughts
Daily Prompt: Exceptional

There’s nothing exceptional about you,
Nothing that anyone will ever notice.
You can go in and out of any place,
And people wouldn’t even know you were there.
You may even laugh, but your laughter
Is always drowned by others’ louder laughter.
Your tears are yours alone,
The world never bothers to ask
What bring them to your sad eyes.
So now that your back is bent,
And your feet hurt when you walk,
You think no one will miss you
When you simply disappear.
No one will come runnning
To stop you from jumping
From that bridge
You walk every day
Of your lonely adult life.
But you have to know — you’re not exceptional.
Not even in this.
Daily Prompt: Exceptional
Daily Prompt: Tame
Undaunted by the dangers,
Hidden and conspicuous,
Eager to try everything
No matter the cost.
And I try to stop,
But I can’t help it.
So tame me.
Rein me in.
Save me
From myself.
Daily Prompt: Tame
Weekly Photo Challenge : Pedestrian
The first time I came across the word “pedestrian” as an adjective was in an article by a literary critic describing a writer’s use of language as such. “Pedestrian” — ordinary, uninteresting, lacking imagination.
Pedestrian, as an adjective, is subjective. What is ordinary isn’t necessarily uninteresting to some.
Just look at this lotus leaf …
An old decaying leaf.
While people were eager to take photos of the flowers nearby, hardly anybody noticed this leaf except for some (perhaps equally pedestrian beings) like me who see something interesting in this old leaf, with droplets of rain on it. (My husband who saw this photo just now said it’s nice. “It’s dirty but nice.” Hmmm. OK.)
There’s nothing pedestrian about this leaf from my perspective. But then again pedestrian IS subjective.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Pedestrian
Daily Prompt: Superficial
As pure as a flower
Growing naturally, artlessly?
Why do we have to pretend
To care when we don’t,
To feel when our hearts are empty,
To believe when we’re full of doubts,
To love when there’s only contempt?
They say if you live in society,
You need to socialize,
Be friendly, smile.
But what if society’s superficiality
Is killing you?
And you’re dying a slow, painful death
With your fake smile, and your fake laugh
And your equally fake concern
For your fake friends.
Perhaps this is part of living.
Perhaps life itself is superficial.
Daily Prompt: Elastic
To be elastic is to be flexible, tolerant, resilient, to easily recover from depression or exhaustion.
To be elastic should be everyone’s goal.
I easily get angry, but I also easily get over the anger which sometimes annoys me because I think people shouldn’t just be allowed to readily forget the hurt they caused you. But that’s me.
I also get depressed so easily, but let me walk around a quiet park and give me solitude and let me have a good cry, then I’ll be fine.
I like to think I’m “elastic,” but my husband doesn’t think so. He always tells me I’m stubborn, and maybe he’s right. But there’s one thing I’m 100% certain of — that both us have some “elasticity” within us or we wouldn’t still be happily married after 11 years!
Have a lovely weekend! 💕
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Pedestrian (-less)





This week’s photo challenge is to interpret “pedestrian.” I’m choosing to interpret the noun form of this word in that the bridge, the road, the sidewalk, and the campus are devoid of pedestrians.
These photos were taken yesterday on the campus of Fuzhou Normal University in Fuzhou, China. This city is an hour-and-a-half by fast train away from Xiamen and is the capital of Fujian Province.
Even though it was cloudy, hubby and I had a nice walk with my cousin (who teaches at a neighboring uni.)
Have a wonderful Thursday!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Pedestrian
Daily Prompt: Popular

I think most of us, in our childhood, have dreamed of becoming popular. We wanted to be liked, to have the most number of friends, but as we grow older, most of us realize, we do not need that many people in our lives. We just need our real friends, and they are usually fewer than what we originally thought.
These days people, young and old alike, gauge their popularity by the number of “likes,” “comments,” or “shares” they get for their post in whatever social media platform they are using. I was genuinely perplexed one time when a student asked another student in my class, “How would you feel if you find out your best friend ‘liked’ the post of one of your friends, but didn’t ‘like’ yours?” I really didn’t think it should matter. But then again I’m “old.”
If you’re popular, you will never have peace. People will always want to get your attention or get something from you. (I heard about Ed Sheeran refusing to use a celllphone, so he can get away from people who are always asking something from him.)
If you’re popular, you’re an easy target for criticism from people who do not like your popularity. And there are always that kind of people. And if you’re the type who value popularity, most likely you wouldn’t like criticism.
The desire for popularity, like any other form of desire, causes suffering. If you want to be popular, better be ready to suffer.
Daily Prompt: Popular
Of patterned rugs and hair dryers: Autism and Sensory Issues

My son, E. who is 6 and on the spectrum has made some progress in some areas these past few months that have really made us happy. He used to get awfully scared of the sound of a hair dryer or any loud whirring, buzzing sound, but now he has gotten used to it. I think that it helped that before we actually use the hair dyer, we’d show it to him and tell him we’re going to use it. If he’s not too close, he would just stay where he was. If not, he’d move away.
E. also disliked stepping on patterned rugs. He’d jump over one or ask someone close to move it away, but he would never step on it. Just last month though, my sister told me he has not been avoiding the patterned rugs and actually steps on them.
The one incident last month that made me feel so hopeful was his taking the medicine which he had earlier refused to drink. It was a cough syrup which his doctor had prescribed and which my nephew had also taken before. My nephew who is now a teenager had warned me it smelled and tasted awful (I liked the smell though!) The first time I tried to give it to E., he smelled it and cried and ran away. For the second attempt, my sisters and my nephew helped me restrain him while I tried to make him drink from a medicine cup — he was kicking and screaming and ended up spitting out the (not so cheap) medicine. For the third attempt, I used an oral syringe while he was held by my sisters and nephew. The same thing — kicking, screaming and spitting out the medicine.
Finally, and thank God this came to me, I put some medicine into a cup, put it on the table, stood some three feet away from the table, looked at him, pointed at the cup, and in a louder-than-normal and very firm voice that I seldom use with him, said, “Drink!”
My dearest little boy walked up to the table, picked up the medicine cup and drank the whole thing. He was a little stunned when we all jumped up and yelled, “Yay” and “Good boy!” I swear he gave us a look that seemed to say, “What the hell?” Lol. After that, there was never a problem making him take his medicine.
E. has another trait that I hope one day soon will change. He gets extremely nervous about being touched by certain people. He is a very affectionate boy and likes kissing and hugging and being kissed and hugged in return by family and a few friends, but with strangers or people he’s not very familiar with, he would just scream or run away. In a way this is good because nobody wants to be touched by strangers, but this becomes a problem when we go see a doctor. He once kicked a doctor in the stomach while the good doctor was trying to check his throat. The doctor was sitting in a swivel chair with casters, and E. was on his father’s lap. I was so worried the doctor would get angry, but he was very gracious, and remained calm and spoke gently the whole time.
Two months ago, I brought him to his pediatrician. He wouldn’t even let the doctor use the stethoscope on him. I had to hold the chest piece part while the doctor gave me the instructions as to where put it.
Another problem that this nervousness can bring about is going through security screening at the airport and undergoing a pat-down. More than a couple of times at this one airport that E. has been through at least twice a year in the first 5 years of his life, I’ve been yelled at for not being able to control my child even after I calmly told them he’s autistic (自闭症). But there’s no way I can get angry in such a situation. I always have to remain calm or my son will become even more agitated. I just do the best I can to deal with the hurt and anger because apart from not wanting to make my son’s meltdown get even worse, I know there’s no use begging people to understand when you don’t speak their language.
My son loves airports — he knows the three airports we often go to quite well and usually go straight to the ramp even before boarding announcement, but security screening is very tough for him and for me, as well. It was not so bad when he was still a baby and even as a toddler because I could just carry him. But now, when he’s almost 4 feet tall and runs very fast, it’s a big challenge for me.
But I am hopeful. As he learns more words and he comprehends more, he will be able to go see a doctor and go through security screening without a problem. Just as he overcame his fear of the whirring of the hair dryer, his aversion to patterned rugs and certain medicines, he will overcome this nervousness about being touched.
As a mother, I want my son to learn to overcome these things which to most neurotypical people are so ordinary, so common. Yes, we all have our quirks and things we like or dislike but we can’t expect everyone to tolerate our quirkiness, so we have to learn how to control them. I believe in neuroplasticity and that my son still has a chance to be better adjusted to living in society and not growing up expecting that the rest of the world can understand him, because that’s never gonna happen.
Hoping. 🙂
WPC: Windows
Whenever I travel, I always try to get a window seat. I’m on a plane at least 4 times a month, and still I don’t get tired of looking out the window to see the clouds or the land or the ocean. There’s just something about these three viewed from above that makes them mesmerizing.
So here are some of the many photos I’ve taken from a window seat of a plane. Hope you like them.
T.
WPC: Windows — Outside Looking In
I’m interpreting the challenge in another way.
Not everyone will find this lamp attractive, but I like the way the light comes through the U-shaped holes. I imagine a small house in a dark forest with a light shining from the inside through the windows.
Have a beautiful Friday!
T.
Daily Prompt: Focused

“Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.” — David Hume
There is so much beauty and goodness in our world, but some people are more focused on what’s ugly and bad.
Even the most ordinary flower by the side of the road has its beauty. If you just learn how to stop and have a closer look, you will see.
May you find beauty in your world today. 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Focused
Of flowers and funny mothers



I bought these flowers yesterday with my mother in mind. She would’ve turned 83 today. She loved flowers and liked to have fresh flowers on the altar, so I always bought some on Sundays when I was home.
I miss my mother. I miss hearing her voice, especially her laughter. She was a funny woman who could not tell a story without standing up and making gestures and lots of facial expression. But she only did that in front of her 4th grade pupils and us, her family. She always seemed different when with other people.
At her funeral, my sisters unanimously voted for me to give the eulogy. The youngest always gets the least easy task. I was unprepared (funeral was held three days after she passed on) — sleep-deprived, a restless 5-year-old to look after, and a flight to catch –and I was unable to deliver a eulogy my dramatic yet funny mother would have liked. Sorry, Ming.
These days what it feels like is wanting so much to speak with somebody but the person can never be there anymore. Not even a video call or even a text message. Just silence. And a big part of you just wants to break that silence even just for a minute, even if what she says is the same thing over and over again.
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Layered
Daily Prompt: Sympathy
When a baby was crying in hunger,
A mother was grieving over her dying child,
A beggar was looking for shelter in the cold?
You weren’t there,
And you refused to see
Or to even think of them.
And now you weep,
Alone, outside your once happy home,
Certain that nobody will come
To comfort you in your grief.
But don’t worry…
Somebody always does,
And most likely they’re the ones,
You once despised
For their silly faith
In love, sacrifice, generosity, forgiveness and sympathy.
Daily Prompt: Peculiar
There was nothing special about her
Nothing unusual,
Nothing that would make one
Take a second look.
Then one day, people saw
Not her ordinariness,
But the peculiar way
She died for the man
That no one else could love.
Daily Prompt: Peculiar
Daily Prompt: Overcome
On a 12-hour flight to Vancouver and another 12-hour flight back to Manila, I watched 4 movies altogether. I liked three out of 4: Logan, The Accountant and Collateral Beauty. The fourth one was Passengers, which ironically, my friend really thought I would like because I like the idea of a life beyond this planet. But no.
The three movies all have the theme of overcoming something. I plan to write a review of each one, so I won’t write much about them in this post.
There is no grief, obstacle or challenge in life that we cannot overcome, if we only persist in overcoming them and not let them overcome us instead.
I’ve had my share of challenges, and I’m facing really tough ones these past couple of years, but I haven’t given up yet, and I don’t see myself giving up.
I hope you won’t give up either. 🙏🏻
Have a lovely weekend! 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Crescendo
First there was silence,
Then a plaintive cry
In crescendo,
Breaking the quiet
And the heart
From which it came.
Daily Prompt: Crescendo
Weekly Photo Challenge: Waiting
I took these photos of the campus of the University of Saskatchewan while waiting for my friend who was in class.
It’s a beautiful campus, and I didn’t mind waiting at all.
Hope you like the photos.





What is your reality?

Reality is whatever means most to you. Some may see your reality as an illusion, but reality is perception. And what you perceive to be most important in your life is your reality.
I was reminded of this after my 4-week stay at home in Mindanao with my son and my sisters and nephews, in a city 45-minutes from Marawi where war is raging. Every single day, we’d hear helicopters or planes on their way to Marawi. Every single day I was there, there’d be ambulance sirens. Soldiers with rifles walked around the city (this is a common sight though. We’ve always had soldiers or policemen patrolling the streets, even outside our cathedral.) By 9pm, the streets were quiet because of the curfew (our island is under Martial Law.)
I have never personally thanked any of the soldiers I saw in the mall (young men and women in their routine break from the war doing their shopping). I really wanted to, but I didn’t want them to think I was being weird or whatever. But I am truly grateful, as most of the residents in our city are, for these soldiers’ bravery and dedication. Because of them Iliganons are able to sleep well at night, secure in the thought that they would never let the enemies take our city the way Marawi was taken.
Now that I’m back in “safe” China, I am able to think again and look back at life in Mindanao.
In those 4 weeks, I was so busy “living” that I had little time for thinking and socializing — no Facebook, no Twitter, no WordPress, no texting. I had lunch with a couple of friends twice, and that was all the socializing I did. Every day I was busy being a mother to my son, and being a sister to my sisters and an aunt to my nephews, and spoke with my husband for a few minutes on the phone. I didn’t have time nor the interest to read or watch the news. I was so out of the loop in what was going on outside of my family.
Yet I didn’t feel I was missing out on anything.
Home. Family. This is my reality; this is what is most important — that the ones I care about the most are safe, and that we are whole as a family.
This is my reality. What is yours?
Daily Prompt: Partner
She silently knits,
As he sips his coffee,
Both sitting quietly
Next to each other.
Buddies in youth,
Partners for life,
Living their years
Peacefully, contentedly
Side by side.
Daily Prompt: Symphony
A symphony of natural beauty
Here’s a collection of photos I took from the day my plane landed in Vancouver to the week I spent in Alberta, and to the last day I spent in Saskatchewan.
Canada is a beautiful country, and the Canadians I’ve met are such wonderful people. 💕
Weekly Photo Challenge: Textures
I took these photos in Saskatchewan, Canada. The birch bark photo was taken at the Berry Barn in Saskatoon, and the rest at the Boundary Bog Trail at the Prince Albert National Park.
Enjoy! 💕
T.



Weekly Photo Challenge: Textures
Flowers at Berry Barn
Yesterday my friend took me to the Berry Barn, a wonderful place where you can pick berries, see different flowers, shop for things for your garden, and jams and tea and all sorts of souvenirs, or have a meal or snacks in their cozy cafe with a view of the South Saskatchewan River.
What attracted me most was the … flowers. I hope you enjoy these photos as much as I did taking them.
Morning Walk around Kinsmen Park, Saskatoon
I arrived in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan yesterday afternoon. And this morning I walked around Kinsmen Park which is quite close to where my friends live.
I’m really liking Canada (in the summer). I love the big old trees, and wide, open spaces. As I walked, I imagined how my son would love lying on the lawn and looking up at the sky.
Enjoy the photos!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Satisfaction
Walking around a park or any place where I can appreciate the beauty of nature gives me satisfaction. These past couple of days I’ve seen so much beauty in Canada. So much beauty gives one so much satisfaction. 😊
I hope you enjoy the photos. 💕
T.
Beautiful Weather in Vancouver
Beautiful weather welcomed me today in Vancouver. So even if I had no sleep for over 24 hours, I was eager to see the city during a 17-hour layover. My first impression is there are so many Asians. I only got to walk around the University of British Columbia where I met with a former student (Chinese) who is doing a summer program there. I met her classmates who are also Chinese, and everywhere I went I heard Mandarin. It really felt like I was just in China, except that everyone can speak English.
I didn’t get to take as many pictures as I wanted to as I wasn’t feeling well. But I’ll definitely do that when I come back to Vancouver next week. For now, I’ll sing with Neil Young…”Think I’ll go out to Alberta…🎶🎵.”
I hope you enjoy the photos.
Have a lovely week! 💕
T.
Daily Post: Disastrous

This is the trunk of one of the many mango tress that line the roads of our campus. It seems this mango tree is dying even though its leaves are still very green. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the disastrous super typhoon that struck the city last year, or that this tree is very old.

I took this photo a week before I left Xiamen. Perhaps by the time I get back weeks from now, this tree shall have been replaced by a healthier-looking one. Like everything in China, old stuff can easily be replaced. Even trees.
Daily Prompt: Disastrous
Daily Prompt: Savor
Here’s a collage of photos of tropical fruits in a supermarket here in Xiamen. They are all imported from Southeast Asia; the bananas are from the Philippines.
I’ll be home soon. Then I can savor the taste of these luscious tropical fruits at a much cheaper price! Yay!
Have a great week ahead!
T.
Daily Prompt: Roxy’s Moxie

Roxy lived
Hiding in her shell,
Afraid of showing
Her true, bright self.
Then she met him
Who showed her the world
And how to survive in it.
Though now he’s gone,
She still remembers
How she finally got the moxie
From him whose name is Rocky.😜
Daily Prompt: Tailor
On Autism, Motherhood and Tolerance

Three years ago, when I told friends about my son’s diagnosis, a few of them told me about the movie “Temple Grandin.” I kept putting off watching it because I knew I would just cry, and I was tired of crying. I did read her book , Thinking in Pictures after a friend sent me a copy, and it was moving and eye-opening and encouraged me to help my son and believe he will be able to cope eventually.
My husband still has not watched the film and won’t. Like me, he thinks it will just be a painful experience. It was painful when I finally decided to watch it yesterday. It’s perhaps the only movie that had me crying from beginning to end, NOT because it was sentimental – far from being sentimental, I think the writers and director and Claire Dane’s portrayal of Ms. Grandin, achieved a kind of objectivity in the story-telling – but because there are many details that I could relate to as a mother of an autistic child and as a person who self-identifies as autistic.
One of the most painful scenes for me was the mother’s conversation with the doctor who diagnosed Temple with autism. When the mother asked about the cause of autism, the doctor hesitantly answered it was a form of schizophrenia brought about by a lack of maternal affection. (This was in the 1950’s, and we can understand that back then not much was known about autism.) Temple’s mother cried saying her baby was born normal, and that Temple later changed; that she wanted to hug her, but Temple didn’t like to be hugged.
(I am just grateful that my son is very affectionate. That would’ve really made it worse for me if my son didn’t like to be hugged.)
The doctor also recommended that Temple be institutionalized, which her mother refused to do.
Temple is so blessed (lucky, if you don’t like the word “blessed”) that she had a mother who pushed her to do things that might have been uncomfortable for her but truly helped her to live independently. Had her mother let her be, she would have remained alone in her own world.
So many times I’ve read articles written by supposedly high functioning autistic people diagnosed in their adulthood, decrying the treatment they received from their parents or other carers or teachers, when, as a child, they were forced to do things that they were uncomfortable with. And now as adults, they just want to be able to do whatever they want; they don’t care what others think about them; and they expect people to accept their autism (unusual behaviors, meltdowns, etc.). They expect, demand tolerance.
To me this is very unrealistic. You live in a society. You may not like the idea, but the truth is – you cannot live entirely on your own. You need people. You need society. Unless you go hide in a cave and live with the bats.
Temple’s mother knew this. Her science teacher, Mr. Carlock, knew this. Temple realized this later on — she had to change; she had to learn to adapt to society.
The world does not revolve around you. You are not special (though you may be to your parents). You are just one of the 7.5 billion people on this planet. Each person has his/her own personality, issues, problems. You cannot demand tolerance for your behavior when you are intolerant of their own. In this world, in our reality, you will meet all kinds of people – not everyone will accept you for who you are, yet you may have to sit next to them in class or at the cafeteria; work in the same office as them; serve them their coffee. You can’t just run away or be angry with these kind of people every time you have to deal them. You have to learn to adjust to different kinds of people because they too have to learn to adjust to people like you.
And this is one thing I hope my son will learn – how to live in society.
Perhaps I am like most parents of autistic children, I worry about how my son will live without me. I cannot watch over him forever. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night thinking what if somebody hurts him at school, and he can’t tell anybody about it? What if as an adult, he will be taken advantage of, and he wouldn’t even know it?
Temple did not begin talking until she was 4, but her mother did not give up on trying to get her to speak. She did not want to go to college to talk with people, but her mother pushed her to do so, and she went on to pursue a Masters and a PhD.
There is only admiration on my part for Temple’s mom, her aunt and her science teacher – people who saw her potential, believed in her and pushed her to be the best she could be.
Not everyone has the financial capability that Temple’s family had, but I think every child can have at least one person who will not give up on them, who will not leave them to live in their own world, and push them to live more meaningful lives.
I have never been very ambitious. My best friend used to tell me I have a small brain because I want so little in this life. As a mother, I do not want much for my son either. I just want him to be able to live independently and be happy. And that’s my only goal.
That’s the only item on my bucket list that truly matters.
WPC: Purple Collage
For this week’s photo challenge, I made a collage of all the purple/purplish flowers I used on this blog. Why flowers? Because I love flowers. Why purple? Because…why not purple? Lol. I realized I have several purple flowers in my folder.
Have a lovely day!
T.💕
Daily Prompt: Bury

Underneath the smiles
And the occasional laughter,
Lies hidden
The pain of burying
Words that cry out to be heard,
Acts that desire completion.
Some secrets are best carried to the grave.
Daily Prompt: Grit

“By understanding the enemy and yourself, you can engage in a hundred battles without ever being in danger.” — Sun Zi 孙子
This is good advice not only for those who have enemies but also those who battle challenges, temptations. Some of us don’t have enemies, but on a daily basis we are confronted with situations that test the firmness of our character, our grit.
As important as knowing what we are up against is knowing what we are and what we are not capable of doing. We need an honest assessment of ourselves and work from there. If we truly understand who or what we are up against, and we truly understand our strengths and weaknesses, we can be confident of not being defeated.
You can play with fire with the confidence that you won’t get burned. 😁
T.
(I’ve been rereading Sun Zi’s Art of War. It’s always an interesting read.)
Daily Prompt: Caper
He capered his way
Into her life,
Saying , “Today’s the day,
I start anew.”
But his capering nature
Couldn’t make him stay.
And he capered away
Out of her life.
Daily Prompt: Caper
Torment

The savage in you
Like to tickle me
To death – you
Relish seeing me squirm
When your hands start sneaking slowly
D
O
W
N
My arms, my waist
Then up the sides of my breasts
Where your fingers deftly move
Like a pianist’s hands on the keys
Or a wolf’s claws on its prey.
July 5, 2000
(Written 17 years ago when love meant something totally different. Sigh.)
Daily Prompt: Savage

Your roots savagely grow down
From you, growing faster and stronger
As they reach the ground
And later strangle you.
You from whom they came from.
If you could stop them,
Would you?

(Banyan trees are also known as “strangler figs” for their “strangling” growth habit. The roots descend from the branches and grow a pseudotrunk that makes it look like it’s strangling the main trunk. Unfortunately I don’t have a photo of a pseudotrunk although I’ve seen so many here in Xiamen. I chose these two photos for the way the roots seem to grow savagely from the branches.)
May you have a CALM week, not a savage one. 💕😁
T.
Images of a Jimei Evening
This year Xiamen hosts the 9th BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa) summit from September 3 to 5. The city has been preparing for the summit for some time, and this is the reason the whole city, not only Xiamen island, but its district on the mainland as well, has seen so many changes — all to make Xiamen more attractive.
Right after super typhoon Meranti struck Xiamen last year, Jimei looked so dark at night viewed from the plane. It was such a sad sight
But these days, Jimei is all lit up, and I enjoy walking around the campus in the early evening when the lights are on.
On Mistakes, Memories and Introversion
One of the lines that struck me from the season finale of Westworld, was spoken by Bernard to Maeve: “How can you learn from your mistakes, if you don’t remember them?”
Though some memories are better totally forgotten, these actually have contributed to our present selves. The “we” that we know is a product of all the experiences we have been through and our memories of them.
I think I have an earlier post on a similar theme, but I like musing on this idea: that awareness and understanding and acceptance of our past – all the good and the bad – help us deal with our present selves. I had some very sad experiences as a child, and even sadder and painful experiences as an adult, but I acknowledge that those same experiences have helped shape a more confident, wiser and stronger ME.
In my early twenties, I was made aware of certain patterns in my behavior towards certain people and circumstances. I would have the same problems, dilemmas over and over again. Same story, different people that I was unhappy with and different settings. It took me a while to see that I was following a pattern. Thankfully I was patient enough with myself and had the enthusiasm to write in my journal my thoughts and feelings during this very confusing period of my life. My journals have been a great help in my journey through self-awareness and self-acceptance. My memories have taught me how to handle my emotions better, and how to prevent myself from getting into an unhealthy pattern of behavior of unnecessarily feeling hurt by other people who may or may not have the intention to hurt me.
My memories have helped me narrow down my list of trusted friends. My memories remind me of the kind of people and situations I have to avoid to have some peace within, because it is true –one can be kind to everybody, but one can’t possibly have everyone as a friend. It may sound like I have built a wall around me, and that it’s not a good thing. I beg to differ though. I think we need walls to protect ourselves, but the walls have to have a door where we can let certain people in; and certainly with age, I feel this works for me. I do not feel the need to meet with so many people and have more “friends”. I do not get energized going to parties and making small talk with people who, just like me, are merely being polite. It’s exhausting. (But yes, once in a while, necessary which is why I socialize once or twice a month.)
However I enjoy being among my family and a handful of people I call friends, with whom I don’t have to be merely polite, but be able to show not only the loving and caring me, but also the silly, goofy me. Then I can laugh. And the laughter is real.
I recognize the changes I have gone through from being introverted as a child, extroverted as a teenager and twenty-something, and introverted again as an adult. This is quite common, I guess, as a number of people online have asked if people become more introverted with age.
The shift to introversion may be a result of the experiences older people have had and their memories of them. The mistakes they made in their lives somehow make them build a wall around themselves, not to hide themselves, but to let only a few people in – the ones they think are worth keeping. And with the wall too, they get to have more time for themselves and introspect and assess their lives.
I agree with Bernard, we should remember our mistakes. We should have memories. And we should be mindful of them. Learn from them. Or we risk making the same mistakes we did in our youth,trapped in a looped narrative and not even knowing it. That is just sad.
I wrote this in December 2016. I don’t remember why I didn’t post this though. Perhaps later I will re-read this and realize why I didn’t and then take it down. Lol. I’m looking forward to the next season of WW. But first, Game of Thrones!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Bridge

This new bridge over Yinjiang Road is an overpass for pedestrians. It’s not as yet operational as the workers have not finished painting. It’s just one of the many things to see in China. Here, there’s construction going on everywhere you go.

Jimei Bridge, completed in 2008, has a total length of 10 km. It connects Xiamen Island to the mainland at Jimei District.
This is one of my favorite photos and also the one that received the most likes in this blog so far. I took this photo as the plane from the Philippines was about to land. I left home to come to my second home. And this bridge will get me there.
T. 💕
Weekly Photo Challenge: Bridge
Daily Prompt: Sail

Northern Mindanao, Philippines
These days I would rather travel by plane than be on a ship, especially if I have to travel in the evening. I don’t care if Bradley Cooper is on the same ship, I would never travel by boat at night.

Northern Mindanao, Philippines
Don’t get me wrong. I love the sea, the ocean. See, I made this watercolor because I really like this view of a boat sailing on the sea. When I made this, I was imagining myself being on that boat watching the horizon. But now several months have passed, and I look at this again, I’m thinking that can’t be me. I’d never get on a boat alone.
“Too much love will kill you”
The title of this post is in quotation marks because it’s a reference to Queen’s song of the same title. I was reminded of this song after I finished reading Balzac’s Father Goriot, which is such a tragic novel about a man who had spoiled his beautiful daughters, sacrificed himself for them but whom he didn’t get to even see before he died.
M. Goriot’s mistake was loving his daughters too much that he forgot to teach them what they needed to learn to be able to live independently. Perhaps his spoiling them was his way of making himself feel needed by his children for the rest of his life. And that he surely got from them — they needed and got his money until he was left with nothing except for the rags he was wearing.
One of his daughter’s, Anastasie, also made the same mistake in loving a man (not her husband) who made her happy but who was only using her to support his gambling. She gave up everything — husband, children, father, her reputation for this lover who only loved her for her money.
In a lecture by the neuroscientist, Vilayanur Ramachandran, he talks about a hypothetical situation where he, in his capacity as a neuroscientist, shows a woman the brain scan of a man who is supposed to be in love with her and which parts of the brain are activated. The woman says, “My God! Is that all? It’s all a bunch of chemicals?” Ramanchadran advises the young man to say, “My dear, this proves it’s all real. I really am in love with you. I’m not faking it….”
Now that we know that “love” is all a bunch of chemicals, we ought to be more careful about how it controls us.
If we are aware of how our bodies are reacting to the presence of another person, and we think it is “love,” we ought to ask ourselves if this “love” is right or wrong for us and the person we “love.” If it’s only “good” for our bodies, I don’t think it’s wise to simply give in. (My friend would say, “Jeez, just don’t think!” But I say, YOU HAVE TO THINK!)
Be it romantic love or fraternal love or paternal love, our actions should be guided by reason not just by what our bodies tell us. I know sometimes it’s easier said than done, but at least we can try.
Don’t let love kill you.😇
T. 💕
Unhappy?

Happiness may be momentary, but then so is unhappiness. One can’t be happy every second. It’s just not possible. I’m sure even the happiest person in this world has had his/her share of heartaches. And one can’t possibly be unhappy every second. Even the most depressed person can find something to smile about, no matter how fleeting that moment may be.
I’ve been reading Balzac’s Father Goriot, and in this novel the titular character, M. Goriot devotes his life to making his two beautiful daughters happy even if they do not really care about him. His young neighbor, Eugene, asks him why he does everything for his daughters and even live so poorly when his daughters live such extravagant lives in their luxurious homes. M. Goriot replies, “Some day you will find out that there is far more happiness in another’s happiness than in your own.”
When we truly love someone — our spouses, children, siblings, parents, friends — it makes us happy to see them happy especially if we are responsible for that happiness. It does not even matter if they consciously do something to make us happy or not, just seeing the happiness reflected in their eyes is enough.
And this is proven to me every time my son laughs or smiles at something I say or do. That look on his face and the sound of his laughter give me joy that last as long as I can recall them.
It is easy to be happy: make someone happy. 💕
Have a lovely week!
T.
Daily Prompt: Passenger

I can see the island from here,
A part of me is eager to see
What it has to offer,
What kind of people I’ll meet.
But a voice inside me tells me,
“This island won’t be any different
From the one you just left.
The stories you will see
Unfold before you,
Will have the same plot,
Different characters,
But the same endings
Because you are the same you.
Wherever you go.
Your story never changes.”
T.
Changes, Transitions and the Passing of Time
Yesterday I went out for a walk at about 5:15 in the morning. These days sunrise is usually around 5:30. As most of the students have already left for the summer, the campus was blissfully quiet when I walked around.
In the evening, I went out again after spending the whole day working on the computer. This time I went out of the campus. I took a picture of this new bridge that will replace the rickety temporary one that they put up after closing the old underpass, which I kind of miss because of the memory I have of the people who were always there during my first year here: the friendly fruit lady, and the old man who played the erhu, the melody of which echoed around the walls of the underpass and even above ground.
Getting back to the campus, I walked towards the west side. I took a photo of these new apartment buildings situated in what I used to think was a swamp. A taxi driver whom I’ve known for as long as I’ve been here once told us that they used to take a boat from their home on the southern part of the district to this place where these buildings are now.
For me, Jimei has changed so much in just over a decade. For the quinquagenarians and older, even more so.
Everything changes. Everyone changes.
All one can do is move on.
Have a lovely weekend!💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Wheel
This is a ship music box that a friend gave me about ten years ago before he left China. It had been sitting in my office for years until one day a year ago, I brought my son to the office, and not finding anything else that interested him, I gave him this. It plays Fur Elise (Mozart never fails to calm him down) as the wheel goes round, and that was all that was needed to keep him in one place. So then I brought it home.
I never consciously taught my son to call it a music box. He knows the words “ship” and “boat,” but somehow he did not associate those words with this thing. One day, though, when he wanted to play with this but he couldn’t reach it, he grabbed my hand to try to get me to reach for it saying, “There!” And I said, “What is it? What do you want?” And he thought and later blurted, “Ferris wheel!”
That wheel DOES look like a Ferris wheel!
I corrected him, but that got me thinking about how we perceive things. I guess for him because it’s only the wheel that moves and it makes a sound as it does, that was all he could see. He couldn’t really see the ship.
Have a lovely Wednesday! 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Wheel
Daily Prompt: Local

Mango: my favorite fruit. The sweetest mangoes I’ve ever tasted were from the Philippines.

These ones are from a local supermarket here in Xiamen but they are imported from I’m not sure which Southeast Asian country. Or maybe they are just from Hainan.

Back home we would slice these green mangoes into strips and dip it into a mix of soy sauce and vinegar. It’s sour and salty and just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

I don’t have a picture of it here, but the Carabao mango or Philippine mango, locally grown in Zambales, is supposedly the sweetest mango in the world.
If you’re looking for something to satisfy your sweet tooth, try Philippine mangoes. 🙂
Happy Tuesday!
T.
Daily Prompt:Cringe

As a child, I always either cringed or ran away at the sight of insects (especially flying ones like moths and cockroaches) and bats! Now I’m married to a man who grew up in a farm and finds insects fascinating.
We noticed this moulting cicada one afternoon while we were walking, and my first question was, “Is it going to fly?” He assured me it wasn’t going to fly. Yet. So I got my phone camera ready and started snapping pictures of this creature that would normally make me cringe, but which my husband looked at with…a meaningful smile.

I got to see this cicada shedding off its skin and growing its wings just a couple of days after my husband and I watched Alien:Covenant (not my kind of movie, but when you’re married you sometimes have to watch movies that you don’t like!) This cicada reminded me of the creatures that the android character, David, created. The word “beautiful” never came to mind. But after seeing this photo on my iPad with my reading glasses on … I thought it looks quite interesting.
Perhaps those things that usually make us cringe just need a closer inspection. Perhaps we’ll change our minds.
But nah, I’m not interested in taking a closer look at cockroaches.
Have a lovely Monday! 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Commit
It was only after I got married that I formed a different idea of commitment. Before marriage, I was committed to making myself happy. I was always my first priority — if I was unhappy, or worse, angry, I showed it and never mind if somebody else became unhappy or angrier than I as a consequence. Marriage made me realize that commitment means not only pledging or binding yourself to your partner but also doing what is best for both of you. And sometimes what is best for both husband and wife is humility, which is quite a tall order of a virtue.
I know I am not an easy person to live with, but my husband is committed to being with me for the rest of our lives, and so am I with him. I have a personality that I’m sure no other man would be able to tolerate, but my husband does. And for that I’m grateful. Both of us have changed so much in over a decade of being married, and despite the many trials we’ve been through we’ve managed to remain each other’s best friend. I guess we both have accepted who and what we are — good and bad, and just remain focused on our first priority, which is not our individual selves, but our son. To me, that’s commitment.
Have a lovely weekend! 💕
Daily Prompt : Paper

When we were just little girls, my sisters and I collected scented stationery. Those sheets looked so pretty and smelled so sweet, we couldn’t write on them. We just looked at them. Well, some of them. There finally came a time when we used them to write to someone who deserved such beautiful paper. Of course we made sure our handwriting didn’t ruin the look of the paper.
Three years ago, my friend gave me this boxed set of notecards and envelopes. They look so pretty I still haven’t used them. I know one day I’ll be able to scribble a few lines for someone who deserves such a beautiful note card.
But that person will have to decipher my handwriting.
Have a lovely weekend! 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Paper
Weekly Photo Challenge: Transient
This photo was taken last month as our plane was landing at Gaoqi Airport, Xiamen.
For the last two years, I’ve been flying home every month, which means at least four flights a month. So I feel something like a transient in the two cities I call home. They are both home, yet when I am in either place, it seems I’m only there as a guest.
I am hopeful that this year, I will cease feeling like a transient and have more stability in my life. I hope my whole family can be together in one safe place. 🙏🏻
T. 💕
Daily Prompt: Meddle
There are people who can’t seem to stop meddling in others’ personal lives. They will say they care about us, so they feel they have to say something. Sometimes we may appreciate being told, other times we may think it’s annoying.
As now I have only a few people with whom I talk about myself freely, I don’t have this problem anymore. I don’t have to be rude and tell anyone, “Get off my back!”
Have a stress-free day! 💕
T.
Daily Prompt: Meddle
Daily Prompt: Relieved
This may sound very simplistic, but it is quite true: when I am stressed out, all I need is some alone time (not necessarily a quiet place, but a place where I don’t have to talk to anybody) and a bit of nature to to look at — flowers, trees, lake — and then I can recover. My problems may not be solved, but at least I’d have the energy and the clarity of mind to face them.

When people are unhappy about things, they want to cure themselves of this unhappiness as quickly as possible, and do things that most often just add to their unhappiness. I think we ought to embrace this unhappiness first before we let it go. And then we can look to nature to remind ourselves that everything is being taken care of.
“Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” –Luke 12:27
I believe nature can help heal our unhappiness. We just need to spend time with it and be relieved of our worries by it.
“Nature loves patience: always remember that. It is a law given her of God Himself, who has blessed all those who are strong to endure.” –– Gogol, Dead Souls
May you find relief from all your troubles. 💕
T.
Thoughts on Passions, Boredom, and Kindness from Gogol’s “Dead Souls”

It took me a while to finish reading Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls. I have to be honest and say, I did not enjoy reading it as much as I did Dostoevsky’s novels. This is bias on my part, perhaps, because I am a Dostoevsky fan. It was an almost an effort reading this novel to the end.
Still I am glad I finished reading it even though the novel itself ends in mid-sentence.
Here I would like to share some of the lines that I highlighted and why they struck me.
“For human passions are as numberless as is the sand of the seashore, and go on to become his most insistent of masters. Happy, therefore, the man who may choose from among the gamut of human passions one which is noble!”
The mistake of Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, the main character, is choosing the ignoble passion of greed, of wanting much more than what he has, and doing everything he can, even if it is wrong, just to get ahead.
Yes, it is human nature to desire, but not everything we desire can be ours. This is the reason it is most often not a good idea to just do “whatever makes you happy.” If every single one of us just does whatever makes us happy, will we all be happy? Someone is bound to cry.
This is not to say that one cannot be happy without consequently hurting other people. Rather, there are many things that can make one happy that won’t hurt others at all, but there are a few things that will surely hurt the others that one cares about if one selfishly follows the desires of one’s heart. I think every human being has been through this kind of dilemma.
“Weariness of everything is a modern invention. Once upon a time one never heard of it.”
Platon Mikhalitch is a young and rich landowner who is weary of life. He finds life and work boring. He visits his neighbor, Peter Petrovich Pietukh, whom he finds annoying because the latter is always cheerful thinking of what to eat next, while he, Platon, is always gloomy.
I can understand weariness of life, and if I have a choice between a long or short life, I’d choose the latter (just until my son can live on his own). However as I still have life and the ability to move, I can think of so many things to do. The problem is not having enough time to do all the things I want to do. So I do not understand boredom when I am doing something.
Maybe it’s because people are made to think that their work has to be fun or exciting or interesting that has caused them to get bored with their jobs. WORK is work. In the past, people worked the land to put food on the table. I don’t think they considered whether it was fun to do or not. They just did it.
Now people don’t have to work so hard to put food on the table, and they get bored. Easily.
So I agree with the author: Weariness of everything is a modern invention.
“Therefore, if it really be that you have no genuine love for doing good, do good by FORCING yourself to do so. Thus you will benefit yourself even more than you will benefit him for whose sake the act is performed.”
Murazov spoke these words to Chichikov after the latter confessed to his lack of real love for what is good and only wants acquisition of property.
Murazov is a wise man. He knows how habits are formed. Even doing good deeds can be made into a habit. In the same way, forcing ourselves to be kind to people we don’t particularly like will benefit us even more than it will benefit them. How?
Eventually we will forget why we didn’t like them in the first place. And if we do not dislike anyone, then our minds are more at peace. Nobody’s living rent-free in our heads. (The irony is the more we dislike someone, the more often we think about them. And nothing is more annoying!)
*****
Published in 1842, Dead Souls is supposedly “widely regarded as an exemplar of 19th-century Russian literature.” But for some reason, I do not find it as interesting, as thought-provoking or as moving as The Brothers Karamazov or The Idiot or Crime and Punishment. Dostoevsky’s novels, their characters and their stories are somehow more memorable. But as I’ve spent time on it, I made sure I learned something.
Have a peaceful week! 💕
T.
To a Wonderful Father
You dreamt dreams
Bigger than mine were
Before he was born.
They grew even bigger
Weeks and months
After he was born.
Then we were told
Something was wrong.
It would take a while
For him to start talking.
Our friends told us
He may never go to college.
And we were crushed.
You, with the bigger dreams,
Devastated.
But you bounced back.
You fought
And continue to fight
For this little boy
We brought to this world.
You changed
From a dreamer
To a realist.
No more dreaming.
Just doing everything that is best
For your son.
Happy Father’s Day to all wonderful fathers!
Daily Prompt: Create

Create. I pondered on this word and realized this should make any creative, thinking human feel humble. We try to “create” beautiful things, useful things, amazing things, but what we create can never surpass nature.
Nature’s beauty and design are beyond amazing.

Have an amazing Saturday!
T. 💕
Daily Prompt: Create
Film Review: Me Before You
I heard about Me Before You from my friend who thinks the romantic moments in the movie are “right up your alley.” I’m glad my friend thinks I am the romantic type instead of cold-hearted, but the most touching moments of the movie for me, have nothing to do with the love story but the ones in the background. I watched this movie while on a 2-hour flight, and my eyes were red by the time we landed.
There are only two areas on which I would limit my review: character and themes.
(Spoiler alert: If you haven’t seen the movie yet, then stop reading.)
Character:
I find the character of Louisa Clark (Emilia Clarke) too nice, meaning not very credible. She is too likable. The audience are meant to like her, and I did like her and if she were a real person, I’d wish her infinite happiness. But a part of me is conscious of the manner in which her character is so contrived as to make viewers instantly like her. So, that’s one of the few things that didn’t impress me.
Her boyfriend, Patrick, is just as flat: self-absorbed to the end. There is nothing about the boyfriend that will make us like him even just a little bit. As a minor character, he serves a foil to the thoughtful character of Will.
The parents of Louisa and those of Will (Sam Claflin) on the other hand, though minor characters seem more real than the previous two mentioned.
As one of the two main characters, Will Traynor is fully developed as a character: from a fun-loving, adventurous, successful young man to an unhappy, helpless, hopeless quadriplegic, who finds a reason to smile in Clarke’s quirkiness.
Themes:
Selfishness/Selflessness
As people we swing between the selfishness/selflessness pendulum. Louisa selflessly decided to keep a job in her hometown to help her parents. But later she selfishly asked Will to forego his plan to end his life in Switzerland, telling him confidently (to me, it’s more like overconfidently) that she could make her happy.
People may not view her offer as selfishness especially when she is willing to take care of him, but I do. She’s thinking of her own happiness, not his pain, not his daily struggle. I believe no one outside ourselves can truly make us happy or comfort us in our deepest sorrows. Sure, there are those who can make us smile for a while, but at the end of the day we deal with our own thoughts and feelings.
Choice
When told that it’s Will’s choice to end his life in Dignitas in Switzerland, Mrs. Clark says, “Some choices you don’t get to make. He [Will] is not in his right mind.” But Will is in his right mind; he made a choice after careful thought. He knows he’s never going to get better. He is in pain every single day. He cannot do anything by himself.
While I admire people with disability who are optimistic about life and fight to live despite all the pain and difficulties that come with it, I also respect those who choose to leave this world and end the pain that they have to bear daily, and no longer see how much those who love them suffer as much as they do in caring for them.
Louisa is confident that she’ll never regret being with Will and taking care of him, but Will is more realistic and says, “You don’t know that.” It is not easy to care for someone who is in terrible pain and who is never going to get better because they themselves do not find it the least bit easy to live on a daily basis.
Will Traynor’s parents at first don’t want to let him go. He is their son. Their only child. The natural cycle is for children to bury their parents, not the parents burying their child. But in the end they have to give in to his wish and let him die, with them by his side. That takes a lot of courage. This is the most touching moment in the movie for me –the parents being there for their son.
As a mother, I almost feel physical pain when I see my son in pain. When he cries because he’s hurt, it’s painful to watch. So I can only imagine how painful it must be for parents to watch their son/daughter in pain on a daily basis, and worse, to watch him die.
Me Before You is a romantic drama, and romantic souls will like this movie. However, the romance part didn’t move me at all. It’s the idea of having the right to end one’s life and parental love that made me think.
Have a relaxing weekend!
T 💕
P.S. One other thing I like about this movie is the soundtrack. I especially love Imagine Dragon’s “Not Today.” Click here for a link to the video.
Focus on the Ephemeral

Just like I don’t have the confidence to call myself a writer, I cannot ever call myself a photographer. But I enjoy writing and taking pictures among other things that introverts like myself enjoy doing.
When I take photos, I try to make them look the same way I see them with my own eyes. And to me it can be very difficult sometimes because first, my hands aren’t very steady; second, I do not know much about lighting and that kind of stuff; and third, I just use either my iPhone or my iPad to take pictures.
One time while I was walking with a friend, I stopped to take pictures of flowers, and he shook his head and asked, “Why do you take pictures?”
Good question. That time I only said because I like doing so. But having thought about it, I think I now know the answer.
Perhaps subconsciously it is an attempt on my part to capture moments that are simply that — moments, ephemeral, temporary. There may be flowers and leaves and trees everywhere, but as Robert Burns said, “And this same flower that smiles today, / Tomorrow will be dying.”
They may look the same, but it’s not the same flower, not the same moment, not the same minute.
Every photograph is a record not only of the subject (flower, leaf, sunset, or ocean) but also of a certain ME, at a certain time, at a certain place with a certain person. Everything we do leads us somewhere. We are always changing. Everything around us changes. As Heraclitus famously said, “No man can ever step in the same river twice.”
You can’t record every minute of your life. But you can keep photographs of certain moments of it.
Have a lovely week!
T.💕
Weekly Photo Challenge: Focus
Tapered Leaves
It had just stopped raining this morning when hubby and I went out for a walk. The trees and the roads had a good washing, and the leaves looked beautiful with drops of rain still clinging on them.
Have a lovely day!
T. 💕
Daily Pronpt: Taper
Daily Prompt: Triumph

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ” — Edmund Burke
Everyday now I only hear bad news coming from my city. It makes me angry. It makes me fear for my family.
But I have hope we can overcome this one. There is light in this darkness. We can get out of this darkness.
Iliganons are tough. We have always been. We won’t let evil triumph.
Daily Prompt: Triumph
Daily Prompt: Tender
Weekly Photo Challenge: Order

Misamis Oriental, Philippines
There’s chaos in some parts of Mindanao, but in some areas like Misamis Oriental where the airport is, there’s peace and calm and order.
I had asked the driver to stop at this spot. The farmer agreed with a smile when I asked if I could take a picture. My family and I were on our way to an airport hotel where we could spend the night before my flight back the next day. I didn’t want to miss my flight because of the curfew and numerous checkpoints (at least 6 during a one-hour drive, but the soldiers were all courteous and friendly!)
Being home and seeing how people were scared but were fighting their fear by trying as best they could to live as normally as possible, I was greatly encouraged, and I’m very proud of my fellow Mindanaoans.

Lohas Hotel, Laguindingan, Misamis Oriental
With or without Martial Law, life goes on in Mindanao. There’s still some kind of order.
Have a peaceful week!
T.
Mindanao

I have to admit I am a little scared to go home to Mindanao this time. I actually cried as I was packing this morning. Living for so many years in China where the only explosions I hear are from firecrackers or fireworks, I have become too comfortable and a little cowardly. In 2001, when the government declared an all-out war with the rebels, I dared to go to Marawi to accompany my journalist friend who was going to interview a religious leader there. On our way to Marawi, we could see and hear helicopters strafing certain areas. I was scared, but also thought of it as an adventure, something I could boast about later on.
Then I left for China. Seven years later when I went home in the summer for a visit, rebels threatened to attack my city. It was the first time I felt real FEAR. Seeing my sister deathly pale and cold, watching my mother pray the rosary as we all huddled in the bedroom, I nearly went crazy with fear.
Now, I am going home again to a conflict-ridden Mindanao. I envy my fellow Mindanaoans , who do not allow their fear to defeat them, who continue to believe that this too shall pass. I have lost my Mindanaoan courage and optimism, but I hope to get them back when I arrive home. Soon.
Peace.
T.
Daily Prompt: Impression
Impressions of my two homes: Jimei, China and Iligan, Philippines

Jimei, China

Jimei, China

Iligan, Philippines

Iligan, Philippines
“Gather ye rosebuds…” (WPC: Evanescent)

Nothing symbolizes the evanescence of life more than a beautiful flower. Life has its beauty and its fragility, reasons we value what little time we have. The beauty of a flower is as ephemeral as its short life.
Evanescent. Ephemeral.
The only way to deal with the evanescence of life is to enjoy every minute of it.
Carpe diem.

- To the Virgins, to Make Much of time
- By Robert Herrick
- Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
- Old Time is still a-flying;
- And this same flower that smiles today
- To-morrow will be dying.
- The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
- The higher he’s a-getting,
- The sooner will his race be run,
- And nearer he’s to setting.
- That age is best which is the first,
- When youth and blood are warmer;
- But being spent, the worse, and worst
- Times still succeed the former.
- Then be not coy, but use your time,
- And, while ye may, go marry:
- For having lost but once your prime,
- You may forever tarry.
Daily Prompt: Unmoored

Dalipuga, Iligan
You let me wander,
And now I’m unmoored,
A paper boat adrift in the ocean.
Soon I’ll be soaked
And sink
Unless you change your mind
And come rescue me.
Save me.
Daily Prompt: Unmoored
Daily Prompt: Descend
De-stressing after socializing
As an introvert and a creature of habit, I get stressed when my routine gets thrown off especially by socializing with people with whom I’m not really keen on socializing. A friend asked why I meet with such people when I don’t like doing so. The answer is simple: because as a member of society, I have to.
I have a very small circle of people I get in regular contact with, and I usually initiate the communication. So when I have to meet with people outside that circle and put on some kind of a role, where I make “polite” conversation, I get exhausted after such an “event.” It IS like an event.
You may say, ” You don’t have to pretend! Just be yourself.” Now, if being myself is looking unhappy while having a meal with people, is that a good thing? You may also say, “Nobody is forcing you to hang out with these people.” Well, I am forcing myself to hang out with these people because I do not want them to think there is something wrong with them that I do not want to spend time with them! This is really true — it’s NOT them; it’s ME! Just because I do not find them interesting or like listening to them does not mean they are bad people. They are not, so I do not want to hurt their feelings. Besides, what I feel about them is not a rational judgment of them as a person. What I feel does not really determine who or what they are, but it says so much about who and what I am. Hence, I socialize and suffer afterwards.
So what do I do to de-stress after socializing? I go to a place where I don’t know anybody and nobody knows me. And then I go dark.
Earlier today I visited a park I had not been to in 10 years, and right now I’m writing this as I’m having coffee at a McDonald’s I had not been to in at least 5 years. It’s a busy place, but nobody’s talking to me, and I’m at peace.
Is it age that makes me get easily exhausted after socializing and disoriented after a change in routine? Or am I no different from my son?
Here are some photos I took at the park.
Hope you have a relaxing weekend!
T.
For Women (who like to laugh) Only

May 20th is a commercial festival for lovers in China. You may ask what that is. Like Singles’ Day (11/11) which is an unofficial festival to celebrate being single (1=single), May 20th (or 5/20) is considered lovers’ day because the Mandarin for 5-2-0 (wu er ling) sounds close to “wo ai ni” which is Mandarin for “I love you.” I know. It’s just a reason to go shopping which seems to be young Chinese people’s favorite pastime.
I’ve heard several young Chinese talking about this day, and somehow I was reminded of a conversation I had with a twenty-something friend where she lamented her boyfriend-less situation and how difficult it was to find Mr. Right. I wasn’t very sympathetic with her because it isn’t actually that difficult for a young woman like her who is tall, attractive, well-traveled and smart. In fact, lots of young men from her university like her, but as she says, “They’re not handsome nor smart enough.”
That’s the real problem: she’s waiting to meet someone who is handsome AND smart! In this area, she isn’t so smart.
I think there are only four kinds of men according to how realistic women view them for their looks and smartness:
-
The BBC-DOCUMENTARY type. This is the kind of man you can listen to for hours. He can talk about a variety of subjects, and you just feel you are growing in intelligence just by listening. Never mind what he looks like! You don’t have to sit facing each other over a cup of coffee; you can just walk next to him and talk and listen and walk and talk and listen. That can be romantic too.
-
The TOO-HOT-TO-LISTEN-TO type. This man is your multivitamins for the eyes. Just looking at his handsome face makes you smile. Never mind if he’s telling a tragic story about the death of his dog, you don’t hear it because your mind is somewhere else with him where he’s not talking. It doesn’t matter if that mouth is spewing out pseudo-intellectual or even idiotic statements. It’s not meant for words anyway! (Incidentally, my young friend prefers this to the first type!)
-
The GHOST type. This type of man you have probably been with for too long that you can’t stand looking at his face or listening to his voice, but for some reason you’re stuck with him. Nothing he says makes sense to you. Nothing he wears makes you want to look at him. So you just let him talk, but you don’t hear him; he walks about the room, but you don’t see him. (Honestly, I don’t know why some people insist on being together when being so only makes both parties unhappy!)
-
The OCCASIONALLY-HANDSOME-AND-SMART type. The occasion being when you’re in a good mood and you find him so adorable and so smart. Beauty, after all, is in the eye of the beholder. What is handsome to one woman when she’s happy, may become ugly when she’s unhappy. This kind of man’s handsomeness and intelligence all depends on your mood. He can be the handsomest and the smartest when you’re in a good mood, but he can also be a candidate for the third type when you’re in a bad mood.
This is a superficial observation, and I’m writing this just for fun (partly to comfort my young friend). But what I really want to say is, sometimes we cannot choose who we are attracted to, and sometimes too, the very thing that once attracted us to one person may be the very thing that we would one day find most annoying about that person. Hence, these emotions we have towards people are truly unreliable. It is always wiser to listen to reason than to our emotions when we choose someone with whom we have to share the rest of our lives.
Have a lovely week(end)! It’s already weekend for me! Yay!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflecting
Sunrise over Visayas, Philippines. I took this photo early this month on a trip back to Mindanao.
It may sound cheesy but … the beauty of the sun reflected on the the ocean made me reflect on the beauty of nature. And I’m grateful for this beauty and for being able to witness and experience it.
Daily Prompt: Exposed
Half-hidden from the eye …” — Wordsworth
I saw this beautiful little flower by the side of the road during my morning walk last weekend. From a distance, it truly looked quite ordinary but, since I had not seen this kind of flower before, I knelt down and took a closer look. I thought it was beautiful, so I took this photo.
This particular violet flower is no longer “half-hidden from the eye.” Its beauty is exposed for my readers to see. 🙂
Have a lovely week!
T.
Daily Prompt: Better
White cottony clouds,
Cool breeze blowing the hair from my face,
Warm water touching our feet,
And your soft little hand in mine
Holding tightly, afraid of being let go,
Days like this are few and far between
And make moments like these
More precious than anything money can buy.
Until next time, my dear son,
When things will be better
.
A Wonderful Video on Understanding Autism and Autistic People
Weekly Photo Challenge: DANGER!
The sign says: Boardwalk is broken-down and needs to be repaired. Do not use.
But in the evening, young people (call them adventurous or foolish) still walk or sit on this decrepit boarded path.


When you’re young, you tend to think you’re invincible. You tend to ignore danger.
But when you’re no longer young, you can’t afford to ignore it.
Have a lovely week!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Wanderlust

I’ve been taking this same early morning flight every month for over a year now. Each time, the beauty of the sunrise amazes me like I’m seeing it for the first time.
This time though, before heading home from the airport, I decided to stop at the beach just 15 minutes away from the airport, so my son can enjoy the early morning breeze and play with the white sand in the cool, clear water.

It was truly a beautiful Saturday morning with the family, especially with my son, on our beautiful island of Mindanao.
Daily Prompt: Roots
Light roots,
Thick roots,
Thin roots,
Weak roots,
Powerful roots.
They have their own will.
They go where they want to go.
Strange roots.
Daily Prompt : Gray
The sky may be gray,
But you’re right here, next to me
I will be OK.
——
Have a lovely week!
T.
Hidden Beauty in Nature’s Design

I saw this flower yesterday for the very first time. I haven’t gotten around to finding out what it’s called. The colors and their arrangement really attracted me.
Today’s Prompt is “spike.” From this angle, one cannot see the spike (stalk) that holds the flower together, yet, though not as conspicuous as the petals, it is part of this flower’s beauty.
Have a beautiful weekend!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Earth
Spreading out
In all directions,
Holding on
To Mother Earth,
Sucking her dry,
Until nothing remains
But us and our greed.
Insomnia
Daily Prompt: Jolt
They say you are
Thorny
Heavy
And stinky.
But when I see you
When I smell you
This tired and sleepy body
Jolts into wakefulness…

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the smell of durian as much as my sisters HATE, HATE, HATE it. Like they say, “its strong, pungent smell either delights or repels. ”
Durian: does it jolt your appetite? Or does it jolt you into running as far away from it and as fast as you can?
Have a lovely week!
T.
Easter Thoughts on “The Young Pope”
Even if you are not Catholic but like stories that are character/theme-driven and thought-provoking and makes you pause and reassess your faith or values or both, then you would probably like this TV series.
I agreed with this CNN review of The Young Pope when I watched the first half of the first season. I thought the development was too slow, and it was almost painful to watch. But my friend was certain I would like it (and you have to trust your friends, right?) Indeed it turned out to be one of the few TV series that I truly enjoyed not because it’s entertaining (I don’t find it entertaining) but because it has a cathartic effect on me as a viewer (me being raised Catholic, a woman and mother). I find the dialogue quite well-written and added to the picturesque shots of the Vatican, the show seemed to me like a literary novel with sound and imagery.
This is perhaps the only TV series that made me grab the tissue so many times in its last 4 episodes, not because it is sentimental but because the characters, finally fully developed in the latter half of the season, are shown to be all broken people who try to be whole. What truly resonates with me is the mother-child motif which is central to the story. (As a mother who works in another country and only gets to embrace her son 2-3 days a month, I am easily moved by scenes of children missing their parents, their feeling of being abandoned, unloved.) The feeling of being abandoned, of being unloved by the very people you expect to love you because they brought you into this world, is ever present in the young pope.
Watching this show where characters deal with memories of their painful childhood, infertility, broken dreams, faith crisis, etc. – all part of being human, can purge a viewer of the pain and pity and fear that these sufferings evoke. That is what it did to me anyway, not because I went through all of these things myself (I didn’t), but as the characters are fully developed, there is empathy for what they have been through; and, I may not like what they did but understand how and why they became who they are.
(Spoiler alert: Stop reading if you don’t want to know details of the show!)
This show also makes use of dichotomies, the ones most obvious to me are the following:
Free versus Determined
Cardinal Gutierrez and Cardinal Kurtwell were both abused as a child, but their respective responses to the abuse were quite different. Both are homosexuals, but Gutierrez is strongly against sexual abuse whereas Kurtwell insists that what he has become (preying on the powerless, especially young men) is a result of the abuse he suffered as a child. The Pope praised Gutierrez for turning his fear into anger and becoming an advocate for victims of abuse.
What this dichotomy made me think is the idea of free will and determinism. Are we truly free to steer our lives into a particular direction, like Gutierrez did, choosing NOT to be an abuser like Kurtwell, but defending those who are being abused as he once was?
One may say Kurtwell was simply making the abuse he suffered as a child as an excuse for what he really wanted to do as an adult – abusing young men. But then again, how much of what we do is dictated by our inner desire, and how much of this desire is brought about by the many different factors that influence our everyday lives?
Will a child born into a violent family but grew up with a loving and gentle adoptive family become violent as well? Nobody knows for sure because there are other factors that will determine his personality later on, one of which is genetics.
And then there’s the brain. (Please click on the link to understand what I mean.)
Old versus young
The title is deceiving. The pope may be young but he feels and sees himself as old. In one scene, he refers to Sofia as being one of the young people, to which Sofia replies that they are the same age. Yet the Pope tells her, “We used to be the same age.” As he is now the Father of millions of Catholics, his “age” accelerated with the many responsibilities that go with being pope.
The Pope also adheres to the old practices of the old church when the Roman Catholic Church exerted enormous influence in people’s daily lives. (Not unlike Trump, he’s willing to build a new and stronger wall to keep out those who do not agree with him.)
In his last conversation with his friend Cardinal Dusolier who asked him, “When are you gonna grow up?” the Pope answered, “Never. A priest never grows up because he can never become a father. He will always be a son.” Later when Dusolier expressed his desire to go back to Honduras because he could no longer bear being in the Vatican after a young man who had wanted to become a priest jumped to his death from the very spot where they were standing because the Pope’s new directive disqualified him from entering the seminary, the Pope answered him in words that may seem very heartless, insensitive but to me are very reasonable and so true: “If you give up now, now that you’re faced with the burden of responsibility and your own guilty conscience, when will you ever grow up?”
What does being grown up mean? Does it mean pretending not to be hurt by the painful past? Or does it mean acknowledging that same painful past while facing the present with all its challenges?
Imagination versus Reality
In his conversation with the Prime Minister, the Pope mocked the Prime Minister who had just given him statistics (reality) on the unpopularity of the church (particularly the Pope) and his (the Prime Minister’s) growing popularity among the Italians. He said the PM lacked imagination of which he (the Pope) and God have so much.
To me what best exhibits this dichotomy is the story between Lenny (before he became a priest) and the young woman he met in California. They spent a week together, and he had a wonderful time with her. The young woman told him he could touch her legs, but he never did. Yet the very fact that he didn’t, made this non-event even more firmly implanted in his memory. If he had touched her legs, most likely he would have forgotten whatever happened between them before that “event”! But because he didn’t, the scene is like frozen in his memory (think: Keats’ Ode on a Grecian Urn!)
Imagination is more powerful than reality.
Lost versus Found
In an unsent letter to the young woman he met in California, Lenny recalled the time the young woman told him he could touch her legs, but he didn’t and wrote, “There, my love, is love lost…And you shining gleam of my misspent youth, did you lose or did you find?”
The Pope, his childhood friend Cardinal Dusolier, Sister Mary were all orphans, abandoned by their parents. Did their parents lose them? Did they lose their parents? Or did they find each other and became, the three of them, a family?
Perhaps when we lose something or someone, we only have to look and realize that something or someone else has found us.
Happy Easter!

Daily Prompt: Measure
There’s twelve hundred miles
Between you and me.
But nothing can measure
The depth
Of this emptiness
Your absence
Has left in my heart.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Surprise
Daily Prompt: Blindly
Blindly we love
Blindly we hate
Blindly we believe
That love can defeat all hate.
It can’t.
Only commitment can.
Daily Prompt: Heal
When friendship fails
When nature kills
And time seems to freeze
And with it, the pain…
Beauty can heal
The wounds.
If only you stop and see
And believe
It can heal. It will.
Of Love and Goodbyes
Weekly Photo Challenge: Security
On “Engaging Autism”

As it is Autism Awareness Month, I feel I should do my share in promoting awareness of this condition which affected my son. Even though I suspected ASD as soon as he turned two years old, it wasn’t until E. was 2 years and 6 months that he was diagnosed with ASD. And even though, I was quite sure he was autistic even before the diagnosis, it was still devastating when I read the diagnosis. It was like a death sentence. But that was so 2013. We have since accepted, embraced his autism and just keep looking for ways to help him.
These days I’ve been reading Engaging Autism by Stanley I. Greenspan and Serena Wieder. We’ve had this book for almost 4 years now. It’s one of several English and Chinese books my husband bought after our son was diagnosed, but at that time I really could not focus on reading about autism. Now I wish I read the whole book 4 years ago. I would have been a better mom.
Today I want to share with those who are interested in reading about autism some of the things I learned from the book.
1. If they are under stress, autistic children can resort to scripting which they use in a “self-stimulatory way, to pull away and organize themselves.” Instead of telling off a child for scripting, the caregiver can try to understand that perhaps the child is under stress, what caused the stress and help the child to de-stress.
2. Do not yell at a child who is exhibiting undesirable behavior. Autism is a neurological disorder, and autistic children’s nervous systems work differently. An autistic child may crave certain sensations or have sensory problems. My son went through a phase of chewing on whatever he could get his hands on – books, pencils, plastic spoons, my iPhone (!) He also went through a phase of playing with spit, and he spat on everything he happened to like – his favorite books, his favorite spot on the couch, his favorite corner in the bedroom, the sliding doors, etc. There were times when I was so tired and sleepy, but he wasn’t and just kept “blessing” everything with his spit that I lost it and yelled at him. That didn’t stop him, of course. He just kept doing it. Thankfully he finally got over it.
3. When an autistic child is having a meltdown, do not think he is just being naughty or being manipulative and scold him because most likely he can’t hear you and therefore can’t understand you. A meltdown actually shows “real helplessness. The child is feeling so disorganized that all [he or] she can do is kick, scream, or sob. The fact is, young children don’t have a lot of control over life. And they aren’t always able to understand why they can’t do what they want to do, or have to do things they don’t want to do.” I have witnessed this several times in the past with my son. Fortunately, I had learned this early on and did not scold him during or after a meltdown. I would just look away, make soothing sounds sometimes and say, “It’s OK.” I’ve seen other children having a meltdown and the parent yelling at the child to be quiet which only led to the child screaming louder.
4. “…Overstimulation of the child by too much activity and various physical and emotional changes” can contribute to meltdowns or regressions. When my son is left to watch his favorite videos on YouTube during the day, he will most likely be up all night scripting and stimming. Although I’m grateful for these videos which have helped him with his language, excessive exposure to electronic devices such as the iPad and smartphones which he learned to use at such an early age, is detrimental to his development.
5. Meltdowns and regressions can also be brought about by changes in diet and nutrition. (Conversely, a change in diet and nutrition can improve a child’s behavior.) The book only mentions that if a child “gets more sugar or more chemicals in his food as usual” he may “get more reactive to emotional stresses that he could ordinarily handle.”
But having read about the Gluten-Free/Casein-Free diet, I honestly believe that what certain autistic children ingest can have a strong influence on their behavior because I have seen this very clearly in my son. I have often talked about this with parents and caregivers of autistic children that I have met. Most of them are sadly skeptical and most likely have not given it a try. In Asia where MSG is a staple, it is very difficult for a lot of households to even think of cooking without it. But my son’s behavior has certainly improved with an MSG-less, additive-less diet. He used to be hyperactive and laughed for no obvious reason, but he has since changed. Now he has a restricted diet of rice, meat, fish, vegetables and fruits. I only let him drink water and homemade juice (with honey to sweeten it).
Every autistic child is unique, but some have the same speech or behavioral problems. I hope this humble sharing can be of use to the reader.
Have a lovely week!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Dense
Daily Prompt: Purple
One of my sisters is crazy about things purple. So far she hasn’t thought of dyeing her hair purple, or maybe she has but can’t bring herself to do it, which is good.
So whenever I buy her something, I make sure it’s purple. One good thing (for her, (but not so much for me) about her obsession is whenever I see something of this color I immediately think of her, and even if I’m not interested in the thing itself, part of me is tempted to buy it for her. Grrrr.

When I saw these flowers on campus, of course I remembered my sister. Luckily for me, she’s not crazy about flowers.
Have a lovely a week!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Green
Thoughts after Reading Gogol’s The Overcoat
I’m not entirely sure if it’s mere coincidence that last night I read Nikolai Gogol’s The Overcoat , and this afternoon, I watched the second episode of The Young Pope where Jude Law’s Pope Pius XIII spoke to the faithful for the first time, and he said something like we have to be closer to God than to each other, that he will never be closer to the people than he is to God because we are all alone before God.
Akakievitch’s death was truly tragic, just as tragic as his life. Tragic to the reader, anyway. If he existed in our times, he would probably be diagnosed as being on the spectrum and would get some help. But in the story, in his adult life, no one cared about him.
The quote I pasted on the photo reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a few years back. I told him how the sight of so many people who came to my father’s funeral made me think there would be very few people who would come to my own funeral because as I grow older I’ve become less sociable, less friendly. Especially now that I’ve been away from home for 14 years, and most of my friends and former students have left the city or the country, and I don’t visit friends or relatives whenever I go home; I don’t attend family (clan) reunions….
At my mother’s funeral last year, I was moved by the number of people who came to condole with us. A lot of them I’ve never even seen before — my sisters’ co-workers and friends, my mother’s former co-workers and students, my father’s former co-workers. It was comforting to see so many people cared about my family enough to come to my mother’s funeral. My parents were luckier than Akakievitch.
Now and then I would remind my husband not to die ahead of me, or I would never forgive him. We often laugh when I start talking about this, but we both know I am serious. No way he’s dying before me. Good thing is we agree this is a good idea.
Having said that, I’ve decided to try to be a little more sociable again. Not because I want people to remember me, but because I want my husband and my son to find comfort in the thought that they’re not alone, that there are people who care enough to come to my funeral.
In today’s society where fake online friendships are common, will people care if one day you just disappear? Or will you be like Akakiy Akakievitch whose death mattered to no one?
On Kafka’s The Trial
Franz Kafka became one of my favorite authors after I read The Metamorphosis. The two stories In the Penal Colony and The Hunger Artist” were just as interesting to me. More than a couple of times in the past years I tried to read The Trial, but I couldn’t finish reading it. Until two days ago, that is.
After reading the last few sentences of this novel, (even though I hate to admit that this came out of my mouth, but it really did) I went, “WTF?” And to me, that’s what I am supposed to take away from the novel — that it was simply absurd. That life is absurd.
The only way I can explain what this novel seemed to me like is: Imagine you are dreaming, and in your dream you are the same YOU in your waking life; and even though everything and everyone else around you is acting strange, you react in the same way you would in your reality.
The whole time I was reading, I kept asking the questions, “What was his crime? What did he do? Why weren’t they telling him? Why didn’t he insist on being clearly told what his crime was?”
Reading this novel gave me the same kind of feeling (though not literally) that the main character, Josef K., had when he went to the court offices for the first time: “It was as if he was suffering sea-sickness.” The novel just kept getting stranger and stranger as I read. It was not like this with The Metamorphosis where I was prepared for the strangeness because right at the beginning, I knew it would be strange because — who wakes up and finds himself transformed into a giant insect?
This novel might not have made me question and ponder on things like Dostoevsky’s novels have, but it’s left me with a very strong feeling that life can truly seem absurd, surreal, that if we look closely into our day-to-day life, we would find a lot of absurdities.
————-
My weekend starts on a Thursday evening, so…I hope you have a not-so-absurd weekend. 🙂
T.
“Mothers are all slightly insane”
(The title is from J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye)

Having arrived back from the Philippines for two days now, I am missing my son so much. I think of the few days I spent with him and recall his smile and his scent and his little arms when he hugged me. And then I go to class looking miserable. Life.
When I’m with my son, I feel like I’m a human jukebox who sings whatever he wants me to sing, or recites Frost’s “Stopping by woods on a snowy evening,” or one of his books. Most of the time, I forget lines from the book or skip some and he promptly corrects me, having memorized almost all of his books and Frost’s poem which I’ve recited to him since he was only 4 days old. (Yeah, yeah. It’s my favorite poem, so.)
My son’s musical taste ranges from classical to pop to nursery rhymes. My husband made him watch Barnabas Kelemen’s performance of Mozart’s violin concertos since he was only five months old, so he is quite familiar with the notes of the concertos. He was so into this video that during his ABA therapy sessions, the therapist used the video as a reinforcement. When the therapist asked me what videos my son liked, I told him about Barnabas Kelemen’s concert. He just wrote it down and said he’d check it out and use it as a reinforcement. The following week he said to me, “So this is classical music? I thought this was some cartoon character or animation.” I thought that was funny.
Although I’m not really a Katy Perry fan, for some reason I got into singing “Teenage Dream” to my son to make him sleep when he was a baby until he was two years old. I would hold him and rock him to sleep while singing this song. And then one day when he was about three years old, I heard him singing a melody which I thought was familiar and realized it was the lines from the song, “You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream, the way you turn me on./ I can’t sleep/ Let’s run away and never look back/ Don’t ever look back.” Yikes.
These days, though, he likes Franciscus Henri’s version of “Six Little Ducks.” I don’t know why. He’s known these rhymes since he was a baby, and he still likes to listen to them and when I’m around, he makes me sing some of these. A few days ago, he made me sing “Six Little Ducks” so many times (perhaps to make up for the days when I wasn’t around?) And each time, he rewarded me with a tight-lipped smile that seemed to say we shared a secret together. It is a kind of a secret. No one can sing “Six Little Ducks” like his mother — with feelings. My son is used to seeing me act goofy. I wonder what goes on in his mind when he’s watching me sing his favorite nursery rhymes complete with action and facial expression. But seeing his smile is enough to make me go on being goofy. I’m a clown.
Whenever I think about acting goofy in front of my son, I always remember my mother and how goofy she was with me. She was the goofiest woman I know, and that’s what I missed most about her. It felt kind of strange when, talking with my sisters, we had different memories of our mother. They said they did not really see the affectionate side of our mother, that she was serious and strict with them. She was that too sometimes, with me, but I remember her hugs and kisses and laughter more. I remember telling her she was not like other mothers, that she was crazy in a good way. She was the kind of mother who didn’t mind being called “cat” and would respond with “Meow.”
My mother was not perfect, but she had an interesting personality. She can be a good character for a novel. Maybe one day I’ll be able to write about her, which is what she used to ask me to do — “Write about me. Write a poem for me.”
It’s been a year since she passed on, but somehow I don’t really feel she’s gone. I only do when I think about it, then the memories come flooding back and I feel sorry for her, for what she went through during the last months of her life.
This post was supposed to be about me being a mother, but I’m ending it with thoughts I have of my own mother. I guess there’s a lot of my mother in me even if there are some things about her personality I do not want to inherit. Meow. But if what I got from her will make my son remember me with fondness, then I’m grateful. I would like my son to remember me with a smile or with a laugh.
‘Mothers are all slightly insane.” – J.D. Salinger
Weekly Photo Challenge: Wish
This week’s theme for the Weekly Photo Challenge is “Wish,” which is quite apt for my situation at this moment when I’m at the airport, again, to go home and see my son and be with my sisters as we remember our mom’s passing a year ago this month. I was informed a couple of hours ago that my connecting flight has been cancelled due to maintenance work on one of the air traffic radars.
This is just a 5-day trip, and I have to be back at work on Wednesday, but now I might have to spend a day in Manila and waste time not being with my son.
I’ve used this photograph before, but he is all I can think of right now.
My wish is to see my son tomorrow.
Thoughts on compassion: a crying lady, a podcast and the brain

As I was walking back from work to my apartment the other night, I passed by a young lady talking on her phone and crying . I couldn’t understand what she was saying (my Mandarin is not good enough), but I felt sad for her and said a little prayer — that she’d be healed of whatever hurt she has in her heart right now.
That wanting to pray for this crying stranger came so spontaneously. And it reminded me of the time I tried to become a nun and had evening prayers with the Sisters. Every night we would gather at the chapel, pick up a breviary and pray together. There was always time for prayer requests, and at least one of the sisters would always, without fail, mention praying for those who were sick, at home or in the hospital, those who were traveling, and those who were heartbroken….
Why pray for strangers? (I think even an atheist has some way of expressing their hopes that somebody in pain can be healed of that pain.)
Every time I read or hear something about how the brain works in different people and affects their perception, behavior and just about everything in their lives, I cannot help feeling sorry for human beings who are judged as sick or evil.
Everyone of us has a story to tell; and everything we are or have become is a product of not only what we have been through in our lifetime, but also of what our brains are like. I honestly believe that if we truly know a person — not only what he is, but more importantly, how he became what he is, there is no way we can ever feel anger for the person, no matter how “bad” he is. We will only have compassion for such a person.
I am not saying we can excuse every criminal act and simply set the perpretator free. But fully understanding a person is a reason to help a fellow human being become better out of pity, out of compassion. Rehabilitation, not death. Perhaps this costs a huge amount of resources that, one can argue, are better spent on other endeavors; but if we truly care about the human race, I think it is the right thing to do.
In one of my previous posts, I wrote about the brain and compassion. I think I am repeating myself, but so be it. I am reminded of this topic after listening to a podcast of the Australian Broadcasting Corportion Radio National called “All in the Mind.” The topic was prosopagnosia or face blindness.
This was an eye-opener for me because I was more often than not, sensitive when it came to not being recognized by people I had a meaningful conversation with. I was almost always offended whenever someone I had a good conversation with, especially more than a couple of times, all of a sudden couldn’t recognize me when I run into them again after just a few days. I have always taken pride in being able to remember people’s faces and names, and certain things they tell me about themselves. It’s a skill I consciously studied and learned after reading about how people like it when you remember their names. So, I tended to not like those who didn’t remember me.
Learning about prosopagnosia, however, made me realize, yet again, how self-absorbed I still am even after years of trying to be otherwise. I am not saying that I now consider everyone who cannot remember me as having this condition because there may be those who are really pretending not to remember me for whatever reason. I should not react negatively if people don’t remember me because whatever reason is behind it, if I get to the bottom of it, I would most likely understand and forgive them.
This may seem easier said than done. (I’m having one of those I’m-feeling-very-kind-today days, so I’m not even annoyed when my friend didn’t show up after telling me yesterday he’d show me a funny clip of Bradley Cooper.) But it can be done. We can try to be less self-absorbed and understand why certain people in our lives are the way they are, and if we honestly believe they need to change and they are capable of changing for the better, then we should help them. Who knows they may be able to help us, too.
Have you ever prayed for a stranger? Was it easy?
Have you ever prayed (or sincerely wished) for someone you don’t like to have a peaceful/wonderful/blessed life? If yes, was it easy? If no, would you? Can you? 🙂
————————-
My weekends start on Thursday evenings, and I’ll be flying home soon! Have a lovely weekend!
T.
WPC: The Road Taken (The Caves of Guilin, China)

When I went to Guilin in 2009, it was the first time I ever got inside a high-tech, beautifully lit cave. I say high-tech because it had an elevator inside. The only cave I’d been to in my country was extremely dark and had thousands of bats inside!
So when I was told we were going inside a cave, I was expecting bats.
So I was pleasantly surprised to see it was wonderfully lit for people to see the beauty of the stalagmites (I don’t know why I don’t have pictures of those) and stalactites.
These photos are almost ten years old, but hey, I can still use them. 🙂
Have a lovely weekend!
T.






Second Wind

JMU stadium
I have been running almost every night for almost two weeks now. I can now run 800 meters! Yay! I know it’s nothing to most people, but friends, both old and new, know that it was never easy for me to run.
The first time I ran, I only finished 400 meters. Halfway through, I was already out of breath, but remembering what my best friend (number 2) used to say to me when I got tired during warm up for our taekwondo lesson, “Wait for the second wind! Wait for the second wind!” That was so twenty years ago, yet I can never forget the many times he reminded me of the “second wind.”

JMU stadium
I think no matter what we do, we always have to wait for the second wind and not just give up. I have to remind myself of this when I get tired of working on something (which is what I’m going through right now.)
As for running, I told my husband perhaps we should aim for joining a 5K race next year! He thinks it’s too ambitious of me, but hey, I can TRY, right?
Here’s hoping you get your second wind, if you’re tired of doing something these days.
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: A Good Match

I don’t know what it looks like to you, but to me it looks like the tree’s wearing a trained skirt! A tree naturally dressed in authentic leaves designed by the leaves themselves!
Perhaps it’s not good for the tree to be “dressed” as such (some ivies can choke and kill trees they say), and the workers have probably taken them off after the Chinese New Year break, but at the time I saw it, I was just struck by the image and took a photo knowing, one day, I’d be able to use the photo.
This week’s photo challenge is to post pictures on the theme “A Good Match.” As I often have to spend several minutes thinking of what skirt to wear to go to work, when I saw this tree what came to mind was, “Wow! This tall and slim tree looks nicely dressed in a green trained skirt!” Lol.

Let me know what this tree looks like to you! 🙂
Have a lovely weekend.
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Against the Odds


I’m back on WordPress after over a month of silence!
The reason for the silence was I spent all my time and energy making sure my son had a fun birthday and a memorable holiday with us, his parents, in China — his home for 5 years.
E. is on the spectrum and less than six months ago, his OT reported he has low muscle tone. Although the biggest problem is on his fine motor skills, he still can’t throw a ball that far nor kick a ball hard. My husband bought him two bikes, one in the Philippines where E. goes to school now, and one for here when he is on vacation. He had not really learned to pedal before coming here in January, and when my husband saw him ride his bike for the first time, he thought it would take E. at least six months to really learn.
But I took E. biking everyday while my husband was at work. And when weekend came and he saw E. riding his bike effortlessly, there was such a proud and happy look on my husband’s face that made me wish I had taken a photo of it. It was just priceless.
My husband has always been pessimistic and believes it will take our son forever to learn anything. In a way it is good because he works hard and always thinks of ways to help E. I am the exact opposite. I always believe E. is capable of learning, and I get frustrated easily when he doesn’t learn things quickly. But whether slowly or quickly, what he does learn always makes us as happy as if we’ve won lottery. Lol. Yeah. We are that easy to please.
E. learned how to ride a bike during this winter break. Against all odds. (Weekly Photo Challenge)
Weekly Photo Challenge: Resilient
A super typhoon struck the city three months ago, knocking down many of the trees and uprooting a few others. On my way to the apartment from the airport, I noticed a huge change in the city from what it was before I left and the typhoon hit (yes, I missed one of the biggest events in the city’s history!) It was so dark and fellled trees were everywhere one week after the typhoon. And later, I learned that in some areas people had no water nor electricity for over a week.
Thankfully, the local government did a great job of organizing the clean up and restoration of electric and water services, and the citizens themselves went out of their way to help others and clean up their respective areas.
For several weeks after that, I did not hear chirping birds from my balcony. But now they are back. The trees that had remained standing after the typhoon have grown new leaves — a beautiful green.
This city and its people have bounced back from the ravages of Meranti. They are as resilient as its trees.
I wish you and your loved ones a peaceful and happy 2017. And should the storms of life come you way this year, I hope you will be resilient enough to bounce back and be stronger.
Happy New Year!!!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Paths
This week’s photo challenge theme is “Paths.” And these photos of a runway symbolize my hope for a straighter, smoother 2017.


It is quite apt for me to summarize my year with photos of a plane (part of it) and a runway, as this is the first year I found myself on a plane at least four times a month for 11 months (May was the only month I didn’t travel).
The first quarter of this year, the reasons for flying was my son’s visa and my mother’s deteriorating health (and passing). The rest of the year, I flew home every month to see my son just for the weekend.
My 2016 path was full of bumps and potholes. I hope (and pray to whoever can hear up there!) 2017 will be straighter and smoother, like a runway!
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
T.
On Ideal/Real Men as Heroes
Two incidents brought this blog topic to mind. The first was my friend laughing at me for always, in our conversations, referencing Jack Bauer of “24” (portrayed by Kieffer Sutherland, who I still ADORE after all these years. He will always be Jack Bauer to me. Lol.) The second was reading the narrator’s description of Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch (good luck remembering the spelling!) in Dostoevsky’s The Possessed (The Devils).
So why do I like Jack Bauer so much, even when he cold-bloodedly killed, assassinated, mutilated his enemies? Of course he is the “good guy” in the series. I know Jack Bauer is not a unique action “hero”; most action heroes are just like him: tough, cool, gentle with women and children, and merciless with bad people. (So I guess I like Jack Bauer because he’s Kieffer Sutherland!)
Today I found the answer in Dostoevsky’s description of Nikolay:
“Stavrogin would have shot his opponent in a duel, and would have faced a bear if necessary, and would have defended himself from a brigand in the forest as successfully and as fearlessly as L—n, but it would be without the slightest thrill of enjoyment, languidly, listlessly, even with ennui and entirely from unpleasant necessity. “
“Without the slightest thrill of enjoyment…and entirely from unpleasant necessity. “
To me this is what distinguishes a real man from a child or a bully. When a real man defeats his enemy in a REAL fight, as in battle, (not in sports nor any game,) he does not gloat. He does not laugh. He does not feel proud at having killed another human being. Rather to him, it’s an “unpleasant necessity.”
There are bad people. “Bad” as society have judged them — the likes of former dictators who died a brutal death in the hands of their own people. The people’s anger is justified, but I find very disturbing that one can laugh about the very violent and public death of these people. If you find joy in killing a murderer or in watching his violent death, what makes you different from him?
Jack Bauer never smiled nor laughed after killing his enemies. You can say he’s a fictitious character. True. So is Nikolay. But why are these characters created? With fiction being based on reality, is it because there are REAL men like Jack Bauer and Nikolay? Or is it because these are what we hope our heroes should be?
Only a child or a bully (an adult with the mentality of a child) or a sick person, can smile or laugh at the death of his enemy.
Real men/women, tough men/women would not find the “slightest thrill of enjoyment” in defeating them.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Anticipation
This week’s theme for the weekly photo challenge is anticipation.
Part of my ritual upon waking up in the morning is to go to the balcony and look at the sky. Since we moved to our new apartment in September, I haven’t stopped looking forward to having my son come and see what I liked about this new apartment. I know he doesn’t like change, but I also know he would enjoy looking up at the sky as much as I do, and watching the sunrise and in the evening, looking at the moon and the planes flying to and from and the airport at a distance. He will enjoy walking and running and riding his bike around wide, open spaces.
I look forward to having him join me and his father again, being together as a family again.
Anticipation.
Have a lovely weekend!
T.
Old Age and Dependency in Neruda’s Don’t Go Far Off

- Mindanao, Philippines
Don’t go far off by Pablo Neruda
Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —
because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
I like the hesitation expressed in the repetition of “because,” as it seems the speaker seems unsure whether the reason he is going to give for asking the other person not to go too far even for a day, would be reasonable enough for the latter. And to me, he succeeded in sounding convincing with his use of the imagery of the empty train station – empty of not only people, but of the trains as well as they are “parked off somewhere else, asleep.” This last line of the first stanza emphasizes his feeling of emptiness – everyone and everything else has gone and they are asleep (not dead, just having a rest), which I think signals what the speaker himself is going through (revealed in the last line of the last stanza.)
Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
His demand not to be left alone becomes urgent as he argues even an hour would be too long. He knows himself and knows that slowly but surely anguish will come in full force. I think “smoke” here refers to fear that can overwhelm a person and make one’s heart rate grow faster thus “choking my lost heart.”
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest,
Whereas in the first and second stanzas, he gives reasons for not wanting the other to leave him (he will be waiting, feeling empty; he will be full of anguish and be heartbroken), in the third stanza, he reveals further that he is not only thinking of physical distance, but emotional as well – “may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.” These words show the total dependence of the speaker to the other person. He never wants to lose sight of this person (“Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;”), nor to have this person not being in the present with him. From not being able to be without this person for a day, then for an hour, then for a second, the speaker obviously relies heavily on the other person for his existence.
because in that moment you’ll have gone so far
I’ll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
Normally, I would be very cynical about people being too dependent on other people, emotionally. But I totally understand that certain people like the elderly and young children, and people with certain developmental disorders cannot help being so. And this is how I see the speaker of this poem. He is not a young and healthy man in the best years of his life. Rather he is old, and nearing his end and fears dying alone. This is not a man speaking to his lover, but a mere human being asking the one he trusts not to leave him, physically and emotionally.
This is not a love poem.
A couple of times, I have heard old men, who when they were young, were once brave soldiers and then, stern fathers; but, as they became old and frail, they became fearful of being left alone, begging their children not to leave them. This, I find extremely sad.
This is perhaps the saddest Neruda poem I have ever read.
Here’s the Spanish version (probably the original)
“No lejos de mí un solo día”
Pablo Neruda
No estés lejos de mí un solo día, porque cómo,
porque, no sé decirlo, es largo el día,
y te estaré esperando como en las estaciones
cuando en alguna parte se durmieron los trenes.
No te vayas por una hora porque entonces
en esa hora se juntan las gotas del desvelo
y tal vez todo el humo que anda buscando casa
venga a matar aún mi corazón perdido.
Ay que no se quebrante tu silueta en la arena,
ay que no vuelen tus párpados en la ausencia:
no te vayas por un minuto, bienamada,
porque en ese minuto te habrás ido tan lejos
que yo cruzaré toda la tierra preguntando
si volverás o si me dejarás muriendo.
Weekly Photo Challenge: New Horizon

My not-so-much-into-the-arts husband was so impressed seeing this work of mine, but my more artsy friend asked me if my five-year-old son did this. Lol
This week’s photo challenge has the theme: New Horizon. It asks participants to “think ahead” and “imagine your new horizon.”
I think I am always thinking ahead and imagining new horizons, but the problem is actually doing something to get there.
So I guess that’s me sitting on the boat, looking out at the horizon, wondering what’s on the other side. Perhaps most islanders think like this.
This .year though I am actually doing something to get to that new horizon. I just hope that boat is strong enough and I’m strong enough to paddle. Lol.
Have a lovely weekend!
T.
Solitude in the Age of Smartphones

In today’s society, people are more comfortable with being physically alone, but only because they have their smartphones to keep them company. “Alone but not lonely” has taken another meaning. But when you come to think of it, people who are alone among strangers are not really alone when they have their phones that they use to communicate with multiple people at the same time. They are probably even busier than when they are in face-to-face communication with other people, because with their phones, they can multi-text, or multitask.
I personally think it’s nearly impossible to let a day pass without using the smartphone. I know I cannot, especially when I am living away from my young son, and every day I video chat with him and my family to make sure everything is alright. Businesspeople would probably lose money or business if they miss a call or message from an important client. Employees and students may miss an important announcement. Truly I can understand how difficult it is for people who have already made online communication an integral part of their lives, to forego using it even for a day.
However with people’s addiction to social media and online games to pass time, people are getting farther and farther away from knowing the one person that they should know best: themselves. It is sad seeing adults posting numerous pictures of themselves and what they are doing on social media. One can forgive young people, as they are still growing and their brains have not fully developed (until mid-20s), and therefore, neurologically speaking, cannot be considered mature or be expected to act or think like an adult. But quadragenarians and older should know better (unless their brains, too, have not as yet fully developed.)
With social media addiction, it seems people know more about what other people are doing than they know themselves. And that is all they know – what others are doing. They do not really know the person they are “following” (or really, stalking) because, online, there’s hardly any sharing of thoughts, only small talk. Worse, social media can cause undue stress to people who post or read information, as everything that is made public can be commented on and used and abused by all kinds of people with all kinds of I.Q., E.Q. or mental condition.
I am not against technology or social media at all. I know its benefits. I use them every day of my life. But I hope people will find a way to use technology and social media in more meaningful ways. They can certainly make our lives easier, and they should. Technology is supposed to help humans live more comfortable lives, not a stressful one. Technology has allowed us to have more time for ourselves, and this is one of the greatest gifts technology has given us. We can be more human – we have more time to think, more time to feel, more time to know ourselves and become better people.
And we can only achieve that if we know ourselves first. We need solitude – not only to relax or relieve stress, but also to know ourselves better and be able to understand others better.
Next time you have stress, try putting your phone away, be quiet and try listening to your heartbeat, and then to every single sound that you hear, be aware of every movement that you feel or see, every scent. Just be in the present. The more you do this, the sharper your senses will be. And you’ll know your body. And you’ll know and understand yourself. That’s better than sighing after playing Bejewelled, don’t you think?
“Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.” -Marcus Aurelius
Weekly Photo Challenge:Relax

Nothing relaxes me more than being alone and quiet on a quiet beach– feeling the ripples touching my feet, seeing the waves at a distance and hearing their rhythmic sound like a mantra, smelling the briny scent of the sea and feeling the breeze on my skin.
I had lots of quiet moments at quiet beaches back in the Philippines. I have one precious memory of being in a stilt-hut a few meters from the shore. It was part of the property owned by the Carmelite Sisters at whose monastery I was having a one-week retreat. One week of quiet except for a one-hour visit three times that week from the retreat directress.
Whenever I get overwhelmed with tasks and life, and I cannot go away to have some quiet time on the beach, all I do is recall that time of solitude — quiet, and peace, and self-awareness. And that’s enough to relax me.
May you have a relaxing week. 🙂
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: It’s not this time of year without …
Christmas decorations start getting put up around September in the Philippines. For my family the excitement starts to build up after the feast day of St. Michael ( the patron saint of our city) on September 29th, and All Souls’ Day on November 2nd. And Christmas doesn’t end until after January 6th, the Feast of the Three Kings.
Since living in China, I have not been really excited about Christmas. When I first came here, there were hardly any Christmas decorations. Now, they are everywhere and young people “celebrate” almost every Western festival, including Thanksgiving. But it’s not the same. It does not feel the same. Even at church, they see the whole thing as a performance , like a curious opera. It only makes me sad.
This year Christmas will feel even stranger, especially for my sisters and nephew who will feel my mother’s absence more than I will or do. My husband and I will miss our son who will be celebrating Christmas in the Philippines for the first time, though I am excited for him.
It’s not Christmas without family and church and happy people buying presents for loved ones and greeting strangers, “Merry Christmas” (and not the fake “Happy Holidays!”)
It’s not Christmas without knowing the story of Jesus (hence the crèche in the photo) and that Santa is NOT Jesus.
Weekly Photo Challenge: It’s not this time of year without …
Weekly Photo Challenge: Magic
I know science can explain this, but it was the first time I saw the sky like this and I thought it was magical. I took these photos a few weeks ago from my balcony. It was a little after 6 in the morning. (I sent a copy to a friend right away, and he asked if it was photoshopped. This has not been photoshopped. )
My husband said the Chinese call it 火烧云 which literally means “fire burn cloud” or burning clouds. It surely looks like that.
Magical.

May you have a magical weekend. 🙂
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Chaos in Watercolor
This is a picture of my mind in chaos. Sort of. I made this watercolor sometime in May 2014. I was going through a difficult time — delayed culture shock and my relationships with my (now) two best friends were not as clearly defined then as they are now.
A couple of months ago while we were packing our stuff to move to this new apartment we live in now, I saw the sketch pad where I made this watercolor. Serendipity. I can use this one today.
Have a lovely weekend. May you find peace, beauty and design in our chaotic world today.
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge : Chaos
Note: I had to re-do this post because a photo of my son and nephews were inadvertently attached to the file and I couldn’t edit it. Sigh
Weekly Photo Challenge: Transmogrify
On Reality
When I was still a child, I often heard my mother tell people about how I liked to look up at the sky — wondering, (over)thinking, imagining, which was why she didn’t let me wash the dishes. It took me forever to finish.
These days I find myself doing the same thing — taking some time to finish washing the dishes because I keep looking up at the sky from my kitchen window and wondering, “Is there somebody up there watching us live our lives here below?”
I shared this thought with my husband, who simply laughed and said, “Oh, yes! And they are looking down and saying, ‘Oh look at this cute little girl bravely asking such questions!” (Let me be clear on this one: No one else thinks I’m cute except my husband. That’s why he’s my husband.)
Ever since I read Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” Marquez’s “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World,” and Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” over twenty years ago, I’ve always wondered about the nature of “reality.” I remembered asking the question, what if there was another world where their idea of reality is different from ours?
It was a few years later that I read Bradbury’s stories, and watched “The Matrix” and my idea of “reality” was further changed. Two years ago I watched “Interstellar” and the scene where Cooper was finally able to communicate with Murph (they once thought there was a “ghost”) made me think of what we think is “real” or “imagined.”(Some of my friends who are into science fiction weren’t very impressed with “Interstellar,” but I’m not a big sci-fi fan, so it was very impressive for me.)
These days there are more and more people talking about the simulation hypothesis and consciousness and how human beings can suddenly change because of some damage to the brain. Reading about the brain and consciousness and theories on reality and our existence makes me even more eager to know the truth about our existence, our reality.
Just yesterday I started watching the HBO TV series, Westworld, and perhaps this is the reason at 11:31 in the evening I am still up writing this. Hopefully with the popularity of this TV series, more people will be asking questions about our existence and actively seek answers to these questions.
Who are we?
I really want to know.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Shine

This week’s WPC theme is “Shine.”
I took this photo a few months ago when I was in the Philippines. I have taken several photos of this place and posted some of them here on my blog.
Beautiful sunsets almost always make me wistful, and this one truly did as I was on my way home from a neighboring city working on one of the many, many things that needed my attention during the first quarter of this year. I was exhausted and looked out the car window. I just had to ask the driver to stop so I could get out of the car and snap photos of this sunset.
And for a few minutes, I forgot how tired I was as I looked at the photos I took.
Have a lovely weekend!
T.
Self-made Prisons: Thoughts on Dostoevsky’s The House of the Dead
I just finished reading Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead or Prison Life in Siberia, and as I was reading about the different people he met in prison — the ones he liked, disliked, tried to avoid — I couldn’t help feeling life itself is like a prison. This feeling was made stronger after a friend complained about the shamelessness of a former colleague who had lied about his condition to the employer. He said he couldn’t stand working at the same place as this unscrupulous person. So I said to my friend, “I told you this is like prison. You can’t choose your prison mates!” 🙂
The main character, Alexander Petrovich, a noble, observed the peasants in the same prison he was in and said, “…you’ll never know what is at the bottom of the man’s mind or heart. You may think you know something about him, but it is all optical illusion, nothing more.” Isn’t this true of people, in general? It is truly impossible to know one person fully. How many times have you been surprised or shocked by something done by a person you think you know inside out, something so out of character?
Petrovich also said this of Suchiloff, the man who volunteered himself to serve the former, “It is indeed difficult to know a man, even after having lived long years with him.”
In our lifetime we sometimes have to live, study or work with people we do not like. It is stressful to always try to be polite with them, which we still do because it is what we were taught to do since we were kids. Be nice. Be polite. Be courteous. Perhaps we can learn from the main character, Alexander Petrovich, how to deal with the oppressiveness of a “prison,” surrounded by people with whom we are not comfortable: “I soon understood that work alone could save me, by fortifying my health and my body, whereas incessant restlessness of mind, nervous irritation, and the close air of the barracks would ruin them completely. I should go out vigorous and full of elasticity. I did not deceive myself, work and movement were very useful to me.”
Sometimes we create our own prisons. If we are aware that we put ourselves there, then we can get ourselves out of that prison. Unless we are too afraid of freedom, just like some convicts in Dostoevsky’s time “…poor devils who commit crimes in order to be sent to hard labour, and thus to escape the liberty which is much more painful than confinement….”
Why do some people stay in an unhealthy relationship for decades, for example? Could it be being in “prison” where their role is set is less painful? Or the person they are with, no matter how vile, is predictable and therefore not as petrifying as the uncertainty that freedom brings?
I think each of us has his own “prison.” Some have luxurious “prisons” — they have a materially rich and luxurious environment, but inwardly they are tortured by their own demons. Others probably have even worse than the barracks in Siberia in the 19th century — economically poor, uneducated, unemployed living in squalor among those who want to be forgotten by society. And there are those who have just enough — neither too much nor too little — but they get bored easily, so they create their own “prisons” and for some time their minds are “occupied” as to how to get out of it, and they may or may not admit to being responsible for creating it.
The House of the Dead, like all the other novels by Dostoevsky that I have read, leads the reader to think and re-think ideas or previously held ideas about humanity — individually and as a group. One critic of Dostoevsky berated his endless psychologizing and philosophizing, but to me, these are exactly what made his novels achieve greatness. His characters are people that readers get to know deeply, and with whom we can relate because underneath all the masks worn and personality and experience of each one, is a real human being, and no matter how vile a character may be, because we get to know him, then we understand and have compassion.
I know I’ve said this before in this blog: the more Dostoevsky works I read, the more I admire the man, the more grateful I am for his words.
(The House of the Dead by Fedor Dostoieffsky with an Introduction by Julius Bramont)
Weekly Photo Challenge : Local

I have been living away from the small city I was born and raised in, Iligan, for about 14 years now. But it will always be home for me, even though my parents are no longer around and so many friends have left for other countries.
It is a coastal city of about 300,000 people, which is a much bigger number from 30 or 40 years ago. Back then, on Sundays, when we walked to church my parents would be saying “Hi!” or “Good morning” to people we met on the road. Now, I can walk around the city for an hour and not see anybody I recognize.
But it’s a different feeling when I look out to the sea. Watching the sea in Iligan gives me the feeling of being home.
Then I feel I am truly a local.
Weekly Photo Challenge: H2O

Dalipuga, Iligan, Philippines
I love watching the sea. And this photo is of one of my favorite spots at home. As I prepare to go home again for a few days, I look forward to looking down from the plane again and seeing the beautiful waters north of Mindanao.
There is something about seeing the blueness of the sea and scattered white clouds above it, and the feel of the cool breeze on your skin, and the sound of the waves, and the briny scent of the sea. When I sit alone on a beach witnessing all this, I just wish for time to stand still.
What comes into your mind when you hear the word “water”?
Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgia

This week’s Weekly Photo Challenge theme is “nostalgia.” There are many things I’m nostalgic about (me being drama queen and all,) but as I was making coffee earlier, I remembered why I bought the coffee that I’m having right now. It’s the same coffee that my family — my parents and my sisters, and my aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents — drank before instant coffee became popular in my country.
The last time I was home (which was a couple of weeks ago, because now I go home every month to see the love of my life), I bought coffee from the same store that my mother used to buy it from. The husband and wife who own the store are still there, now with dyed hair, but their assistants are much younger women. The young assistant seemed to do a mental eye-rolling as my sister and I went “Aaw” after smelling the coffee that brought back lots of memories of our childhood. (We probably drank more coffee than milk when we were kids!)
So I’m saying goodbye to instant coffee for now. And also to Starbucks. It’ll be Iligan kape for now. For a long, long time 🙂
Happy Weekend!
Mornings and Beginnings

View from my balcony
We recently moved to a new apartment, and I am quite happy to have moved. This year has been one of changes and challenges, and I’ve been able to cope with all these sometimes overwhelming challenges pretty well. For this I am grateful to my husband and my sisters for everything they do and are in my life. So moving to a new place is symbolic of a new beginning for me — life without my mother, and living apart from my beautiful son (for a few months.)
Now that I only work 3 afternoons a week, and I do not have my son to look after, I can sit for a few minutes out on my balcony and wait for sunrise as I sip on my morning coffee. Then I go out for a walk and come back to prepare hubby’s breakfast.

View from my balcony
Each day, I am trying to be hopeful and look forward to better days. I know they will come.
Every morning is a promise of a new beginning.
Wishing you beautiful mornings and wonderful beginnings. 🙂
On Friendship with the Ex

I stopped communicating with my best friend #2 of 16 years, who also happens to be my ex-boyfriend for the same number of years. Whereas in the past I couldn’t last a week without talking or even just texting with him, it has been two months since we’ve had any communication. Best friend #1 who has always known and accepted my romantic-turned-fraternal relationship with M. tried to get me to, at least, ask him how he’s doing, fearing one day I would regret my silence.
I probably would regret ending this friendship, but I have to take care of myself before I can take care of others. Something was done , and I didn’t like it. My not liking it manifests itself in my actions. I cannot control my emotions, only my actions. However, controlling my actions is exhausting because it takes so much effort, so much energy which I know can be expended on other more substantial endeavors. My only solution is to eliminate the source of these feelings by ending the relationship.
Whereas in the past, I could shamelessly ask my friend to do or not do something; now as a more mature person, .I can never, will never ask my friend to change himself for me, or stop him from doing what he wants to do that is not bad for him. I have no control over him, but I have control over my life. Surprisingly, I do not feel sentimental about these things. I will always treasure what we had. Those were wonderful memories.
There won’t be new ones, though.
Remembering and Hoping

Today would’ve been my mom’s 82nd birthday.
And today I heard something that made me sad. I know I’m a grown woman who already has a child of her own, but at times like these, I just wish I could just pick up the phone and call her and cry my heart out.
A few weeks before she passed, my mom saw me crying. She knew I had a lot on my plate — her health, my son’s health and keeping my family together in one country. She looked at me and confidently said, “Everything will be alright.” Like she knew for certain.
I hope she’s right, and that everything will truly be alright. One day. Soon.
Weekly Photo Challenge:Edge
This is my favorite place in Singapore. I first saw this place in a movie whose title I don’t even remember, but I remember saying to myself, I would definitely go see the place for myself. And early this year, I did.
When you’re looking down from the edge of some place, you get a different view and perspective on things below and above you. Hopefully it’s always a good one. 🙂
Have a lovely week!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Mirror

Like I’ve mentioned many times in my previous posts, I like morning walks when it’s quiet and there’s a cool breeze blowing. It was on such a morning that I took this picture of the campus lake. I like how the old administration building and the trees in its foreground are mirrored on the lake.
I look forward to starting my early morning walks again.
Enjoy your weekend!
T.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Frame

This photo was taken the same time as the one I took of the bird in flight between the Petronas Towers (WPC: Fun)
There were so many birds flying about, and a few perched on spear leaves. Trying to frame this beautiful and graceful bird perched like a proud queen/king on her/his throne was a little challenging because it didn’t stay on one leaf for long. But finally being able to snap this picture was worth the wait.
Have a lovely weekend!
Empty

I dreamt of this time for years now.
Being alone.
Not rushing.
A whole day
To think,
To write.
And now I have this much time
But somehow I can’t think
And the words won’t come out.
I can only feel
Your absence
As I walk alone
Leisurely.
What do I do with this much time
In my hands?
It’s only been three days
But it feels like ages
Since I kissed your soft, little cheek
And inhaled the baby scent from your hair
As you peacefully lay asleep
Unaware that when you woke
Mommy would have been gone.
But I will see you again
I promise.
Because I can’t go on for long
Feeling the emptiness
In that corner of my heart
That only you can fill.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Rare Visits

(The theme for The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge is RARE.)
Photographs of sunsets aren’t rare, but I love this photo I took of the sunset in my hometown — Iligan, Philippines. I don’t get to see this kind of view often because first, I only get to spend a maximum of three months a year in my country, and second, I have a very busy schedule whenever I’m home.
Seeing this kind of sunset in my hometown, then, is a rarity. And its rarity makes the scene truly special to me.
This Time Tomorrow
By this time tomorrow
I won’t see you open your eyes as you wake
Nor see you smile when you look at me,
Nor feel your little arms around my neck,
As I usually do,
When I greet you “Good morning!”
By this time tomorrow
I will be thinking of you
As the plane takes me
Away from you.
I told you I was leaving
But I am not sure you understood.
I wish I could make you understand,
That I just want what’s best for you,
Even if it breaks my heart.
Don’t hate me for this.
I promise I will be back.
You will wake up one morning.
And I’ll be there.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Flight = Freedom = FUN
The theme for this week’s photo challenge is FUN.
I took this photo last month during a short visit to Kuala Lumpur. I noticed there were so many birds in the area, and I really wanted to photograph a bird in flight between the two towers. Since I’m not good at photography, and I only had my iPad to take pictures, it was not very easy. But I managed to do it.
The “fun” part of this post is not about taking photographs of birds in flight, but it’s the thought of flying as free as a bird.
People take pictures of things and people and places they find beautiful, and they use all kinds of tools to have a better view: selfie sticks and drones. Birds don’t need such tools. They can see beauty in different angles.
Birds can fly to places they want to go to, and they don’t need visas or the right skin color to do so.
Birds can fly freely and see the beauty of this world.
If humans could do the same, wouldn’t that be fun?
Weekly Photo Challenge: Morning
(This is my first time to participate in The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge, and it’s just because I saw the theme and remembered this photo I took two mornings ago.)
I took a very early morning trip two days ago –at 4:30 A.M. to be exact, and it was an hour and a half hour drive to a resort on top of a hill.
Though I wasn’t happy about waking up at 3 in the morning, the sight that welcomed me at 6 A.M. truly woke me up and made me feel ready to face the day better than a goood cup of coffee could (hmm, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit. I need to have my coffee first thing in rhe morning!)
It was a littte cloudy, and there was a soft breeze blowimg and birds making morning music, when I saw these bungalows and the green lawn in the foreground of cloudy skies. It was such a quiet scene that Wordsworth’s words came to mind :”the very houses seem asleep.”
I am a morning person, and I love bathing in the beauty of early morning — clean, cool.air, a quiet place save for the birds’ simging or the rustling of the leaves as a gentle breeze blows.
That’s better than coffee (but I’d still need my cofee. ♥)
Home is where …
I’m home,
But somehow it doesn’t feel the same
I have time alone now, something I have always wanted
But somehow it doesn’t feel as comforting as it used to be.
Your bedroom door’s open,
And I turn to look at it
And I see your wheelchair in one corner,
It’s gathering dust.
The curtains and the bed sheets were changed this weekend
Like you were still going to lie on your bed
But this room has not been occupied for months.
It’s a strange feeling — knowing you’re never coming back
But like you’re on a vacation somewhere far.
Maybe you are.
I hope you’re happy there.
Be cool, don’t be a fool
Emotions are a tricky thing. If you don’t watch what they are doing to you, they can control the better part of you. We cannot control our emotion, but if we have a healthy brain, then we should be able to control our actions that our emotions want us to perform.
For example, whenever a driver ignores a red light when I’m crossing the street on the crosswalk, I imagine myself cursing the driver and flipping the finger at him (I did this just one time in the many times I have witnessed such irresponsible driving.) There is so much anger inside, but instead of acting on it, I’d talk about it with whoever is around to listen to my rant for a minute or two, and then, Whew! I can smile again.
In my 40+ years in this world I have learned that I cannot just let anyone or anything control my actions. I can’t remember where I read this, but I’ve never forgotten it: We should act, not just react.
Wherever you go, there will always be people who will make you angry or make you feel insecure. Some may do it intentionally,while others may not even know they are doing it. Either way, I think the reason they do it is people like these are either emotionally or socially immature, or they have a psychological problem. (Don’t you think it’s easier to forgive a person when you know he’s sick?)
With social media, young people measure their worth by the number of “likes” they get on their posts. “Likes” from people they don’t even know. And when they don’t get the expected number of “likes,” they would feel there’s something wrong with them. I see this happening not only among young people, but even among older ones who spend so much time on social media.
But really when you come to think of it, there should only be a few people whose opinions count to you — family and real friends — those who we truly know and know us as much as we do them.
The other night I saw a video of Taylor Swift talking about what made her write her song, “Shake it Off”. I don’t know if she practices what she preaches, but it’s quite good advice for people out there whose moods, emotions and behaviors are mere reactions not only to social media feedback but also to what their so-called friends and co-workers tell them. Really, just shake ’em off.
Don’t ruin your day by giving too much attention to people whose opinion does not help you in any way but merely adds a wrinkle on your face and a white/gray hair on your head.
Don’t let them win.
Don’t be a loser.
On Thinking and Writing
The Kinetic Rain at the Changi Aiport is a beautiful thing to watch. It had a calming effect on me. If I had more time, I’m sure it would’ve inspired me to think. 🙂
I miss thinking.
I have not been writing, not even reading except for online news. Most of my time the last three weeks has been spent doing things a mother is supposed to do. I’m not complaining, it is just a fact.
I did have a very short break when I went to Bangkok four weeks ago, but it wasn’t a leisure trip. This time I will have a few hours of quiet as I plan to just stay in at the hotel for the whole afternoon and evening before my flight to Kuala Lumpur tomorrow.
I look forward to reading and be inspired to write again.
Wish me luck. 😉
Mother’s Day without Mom
They say the dead don’t see nor hear
But I don’t know for sure
I just wish you could…
See that I need you
To hug me like you did
When I needed a hug
Just because…
Hear me wish for you
To come and comfort me
As life gets a little too much
And I feel …tired.
I still keep wishing
You were just a phone call away
That I could still tell you
What’s making me sad,
And you’d reassure me
That everything’s going to be all right
And that you pray for me
Every single night.
When I was a child,
I couldn’t wait to grow up
But now that I have
I sometimes wish
I could run into your arms again
And close my eyes
As I bury my face into your neck
And smell your scent of talcum powder,
As you theatrically sing and sway
Making the sadness go away,
Turning it into giggles
And then rambunctious laughter.
Mother, how I wish
I could just be
Your little child again.
Goodbyes
Some goodbyes are sweet —
You smile and hug and kiss
And say the word, believing
That you’ll be better people
When you see each other again.
Some goodbyes are bitter —
You turn your back
Perhaps with tears
Or with a frown, hoping
You’ll never have to see each other again.
Some goodbyes are not meant to be —
You think it is over
That the last chapter has been written
And another one cannot be added.
But then a sequel is started.
Some goodbyes are inevitable —
You hate to part
You know you shouldn’t
But you’re not characters in a book
Or lovers in a rom-com….
These goodbyes leave you feeling cold and empty
Like a house stripped
Of every furniture, curtain and picture,
Of every sign of being lived in,
And all that’s left is a hollow sound
And the echo of one’s sigh
And the memories of a voice…
Such is the goodbye that, in my ear,
You gently whispered
As you kissed away
A tear on my cheek
And softly,
Quietly
Left me
For good.
*****
“Love is so short, forgetting is so long..” is a line from one of my favorite Neruda poems, “Tonight I can Write.” I think it’s a beautifully sad poem that captures not only the pain one feels at the thought that love has gone, but also the courage to imagine that the person one has loved so passionately will eventually move on.
Tonight I can Write by Pablo Neruda:
Click here for the English and Spanish versions.
Click here to listen to Andy Garcia’s reading of the poem.
On Compassion, Forgiveness and the Brain
Have you ever been extremely angry with somebody that you imagined you were Daenerys riding Drogon which was breathing fire on to your enemies?
(Fortunately for me, I have not been that angry with any one person in a long time, but only with a group of people terrorizing my beautiful island of Mindanao, oh yeah. I was so angry that in my imagination, I didn’t even have to be Daenerys. I was happy just to be Drogon!)
Don’t you find it exhausting when you dislike this person so much, but this person just can’t disappear from your life? You hear people talking about him/her, and it’s worse when he/she is doing so well while you aren’t?
For us, humans, anger towards somebody is most often accompanied by its best friend, jealousy. Those two are perhaps the ugliest, meanest pair ever. They will keep you awake at night, make you lose your appetite, then your energy.
If you’re smart or meet the right people who can help you get rid of that ugly pair, then lucky you. If not, that pair will ruin your life.
A few months ago, I started reading Oliver Sacks’ An Anthropologist on Mars. For some reason I could not finish reading it, but a couple of weeks ago I picked it up again and read the chapter called “A Surgeon’s Life,” which is about Dr. Carl Bennett (a pseudonym), a surgeon who has Tourette’s Syndrome.
This chapter was truly an eye-opener for me, and I’m writing about this because I am hoping this can somehow also make my readers re-evaluate how we judge our fellow human beings.
Dr. Bennett is highly respected by his colleagues and patients, and despite his tics, is able to perform surgery efficiently as if he didn’t have Tourette’s at all. He said the outward expressions of his Tourette’s that most people see are not the worst problems he has to face. The real ones are those within — panic and rage. In his words,
“It’s not gentle….You can see it as whimsical, funny — be tempted to romanticize it — but Tourette’s comes from deep down in the nervous system and the unconscious. It taps into the oldest, strongest feelings we have. Tourette’s is like an epilepsy in the subcortex.; when it takes over, there’s just a thin line of control, a thin line of cortex, between you and it, between you and that raging storm, the blind force of the subcortex. One can see the charming things, the funny things, the creative side of Tourette’s, but there’s also that dark side. You have to fight it all your life.”
At home, Dr. Bennett can give expression to this rage, not directed at people but at inanimate objects around him. His wall, his refrigerator are witnesses to this rage. One wall is covered with knife marks.
Scary? I find this very sad. That a human being who does not want to be violent CANNOT CHOOSE not to be violent.
Dr. Bennett is fortunate enough to have a family that understands and accepts him and helps him deal with all of these. But not everyone is as fortunate as Dr. Bennett. I wonder how many people out there have undiagnosed neurological disorders, committing crimes which they could not help doing? They don’t even know why they are doing it, or perhaps they think they know why they are doing it; but do they really?
I wonder if a brain scan is required of every criminal, how many of these people we would find to have neurological disorders?
This question led me to think how the human brain is very much like a computer. Just as computers have software-related problems such as viruses and bugs, the human brain can have chemical imbalance or viral infections. And just like computers that can have hardware-related problems such as overheating, a malfunctioning chip or a motherboard failure, our brain can also suffer from head or brain injuries.
When your computer is defective, do you try to save it or do you discard it, right away?
It seems computers are luckier than humans because we can easily see that our computer has a problem, and our initial reaction is to find out what caused it and how to fix it.
But with a human being, if his brain has a problem but it’s undiagnosed, we right away judge the person according to his actions without asking whether he has control over his actions or not.
What is worse is we label these people as crazy, nuts, wacko, lunatic, deranged, etc. without even knowing what caused them to become such people. Perhaps you have heard or read about people who were known to be gentle or kind, and all of a sudden murdered somebody. People express shock or disbelief, saying it was totally out of character.
Here are some ways people can suddenly change:
Trauma to the brain can cause a drastic change in personality.
Alcohol and drugs (medications) can change a person’s personality.
Viral infections in the brain can cause a change in personality.
Certain foods and food ingredients like MSG can affect your behavior.
Now, going back to my first question: Have you ever been extremely angry with somebody that you imagined you were Daenerys riding Drogon which was breathing fire on to your enemies?
If you have or you still are extremely angry with somebody, ask yourself whether it’s possible this person has a hardware or software-related problem in his brain, and perhaps he has no control over some of his thoughts and actions, just like, sometimes, you have no control over some of your own thoughts and actions.
And when you realize that we are all in the same boat, then you would hopefully understand your fellow human being, and perhaps forgiving will be a little bit easier (but, of course, be smart about it!)
I wonder if that is what prompted Jesus to utter these words when he was crucified: “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”
When he said those words, He became the epitome of compassion and forgiveness.
Note:
A couple of years ago a friend and I talked about whether human beings have free will or not. Back then I wasn’t really convinced that we don’t, but mostly because I did not have the time to think about it and read about it more. But now I think my friend may be on to something. 🙂 He wrote a book called Without Free Will. It’s well-written and thought-provoking. Check it out.
You’re special

Dear Son,
You are special to me
Not in the same way
The world calls you special
Because you can’t speak
The way kids your age do,
You can’t throw a ball
Like most 5-year olds do
You can’t even catch one
Though we’ve tried to teach you
Over and over again.
You are special to me
But not in the same way
The world sees you
Because you flap your hands
Or jump a thousand times on the trampoline
Or recite your books from cover to cover
Instead of talking with people.
No, you’re special to me
Because I see what the world can’t see
How sweet your smile is
When I finish a line that you start to recite;
When you leave your toys
To run to me just to give me a hug;
When you snuggle close to me
Because you want to be kissed;
When you ask me to sing
Your favorite song
Or read your favorite book.
You are special to me
Not only for who or what you are,
But also because, in your simplicity,
You have taught me —
Patience and understanding,
Humility and gratitude.
And most all you taught me
Love that expects nothing in return
Save for that sweet, little smile
You give to me alone.
Thank you, Son.
Love,
Mom
On Words and Immortality
I personally know a few people who look forward to the discovery of making humans immortal. Although I’d be very happy for and proud of humanity should they make such an achievement, I don’t think I will be around long enough for that, and I don’t really wish to become physically immortal.
Having recently seen someone I love suffer, I cannot see the point of prolonging one’s life if one is unable to function normally, both physically and mentally. It is heartbreaking to see a fellow human being’s condition deteriorate like that, especially when it is one you hold close to your heart. It makes you wish you were suffering instead of them.
So, no. Immortality in the physical sense is not for me.
I have said before that I would probably reconsider if life could be painless, and one could remain young and healthy. But I think that is too big a dream for humanity — one I find extremely hard to hope for.
However, some people have successfully immortalized themselves and others they cared about thru arts and literature. There are too many works and artists and writers to mention them all, but one poem that promises immortality thru poetry that has really stuck with me since I first read it as a student is Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
The first two quatrains of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 explains why the speaker cannot possibly liken the subject (supposedly a young man but some people insist it’s a woman; it doesn’t matter to me) to a summer’s day. The third quatrain explains further how time nor death cannot rid the subject of his/her beauty.The couplet promises eternal life to the subject, saying, for as long as people can read this poem about him/her, he/she will always live.
And the poet has been proven true to his promise. We are still reading about the young person’s beauty. You are reading about it now as you are reading my post.
To me that IS immortality.
How (in what way) would you like to be immortalized?
The Tryst

As I lie in bed
Waiting for the husband
To put down his book,
I think of the words,
Imagine them flowing,
Hearing the sound,
Savoring each syllable.
As soon as the light is off
I wait a little more
For the eventual snore
A sign that I was free
To get up
And to be
With my lover.
I check on the little one
Sleeping like an angel,
And then, quietly, I go
To meet with my lover,
For my lover makes me feel
And think
And smile.
My lover heals me
And comforts me
And helps me move on.
As I step into the room
And walk towards the table
Where everything
Will soon commence,
I say to myself,
Now I can do this.
I can let the words out.
I am in love with words.
And writing is my lover.

If it isn’t obvious yet, it’s written tongue-in-cheek. A reaction to the questions asked of me recently: what I’ve been doing with my time and why I like being alone. 🙂
Why do you write?
Like you used to
For my Miming
Today I read something that made me laugh
And I thought of you, and for a second,
I thought of picking up the phone
To tell you the story,
And hear you laugh
Like you used to.
But then I remembered
That I had already said my goodbyes
That I won’t ever hear your voice again
Nor ever see your eyes disappear
As you laugh at my silliness,
Like you used to.
You’re no longer here.
That’s something
I have to get used to.
Insignificant

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
You’re like …
A tiny, withered leaf
On concrete ground —
Invisible except to those who look down,
Unappreciated save for a few sensitive souls
(Who see it and wistfully smile)
Too small to catch anyone’s attention
But for the sweeper’s who thinks
It does nothing for the neatness of the ground.
——
Some people feel so small; they feel they have nothing to contribute to this world, that nobody knows them, that nobody likes them. They are worse off than Dostoevsky’s man from the underground, who at least thinks/knows he is smart.
These people feel that when they finally leave this world, nobody will mourn them, nobody will remember them. There will be no flowers on their graves.
I feel small, too, but only when I think of the massiveness of the universe; I feel I am extremely insignificant. What does my life matter to the universe? It will go on, and not a thing about it will change when I die because I am just a speck of dust in its vastness.
But then again….
One may be small, seen and appreciated by only a few. But who needs too many people in one’s lifetime? One cannot possibly know all their names and all their stories. One only needs a few sensitive souls to see through one’s soul.
Though one may be small, insignificant to most, one can be the world to somebody else. One can make oneself the center of somebody’s universe by one’s selflessness and sincerity and generosity.
Make your life matter.
Love on a Gloomy Day

Beauty in the eyes of love
It’s cold and cloudy in Jimei again. I’ve already said this several times this week: This weather is depressing.
But luckily, there are people who can see the sun behind the clouds. Figuratively speaking, of course.
Yesterday, I was walking with a young friend, who was gushing about a guy she’s in love with. She thought I was a mind reader because I knew exactly how she’s feeling and what went on in her head whenever he failed to reply to her text messages right away. Sigh.
She was very happy and kept smiling. She said she even noticed herself smiling while walking alone even though it was raining.
Been there, done that.
But I’m happy and excited for her. I don’t plan on telling her to be ready for the heartaches. Anti-climactic. (But you, dear readers, who I’m sure are older than my friend, if you’re suffering from a broken heart, might be able to help yourself recover by reading this article on the science of a broken heart — a good read.)
My young friend’s happiness and excitement makes me think that falling (romantically) in love is perhaps the most effective cure for pessimism. To one who one is in love, even a single dead leaf looks beautiful.
Perhaps it is better for us to always feel like we are madly in love because, then, everything can be beautiful; every little thing can make us smile.
Of course, that is not possible (or is it?)
I guess we are all entitled to falling madly, stupidly in love once in our boring lives.
I wonder if there is such a thing as falling smartly in love?
On Age, Music and Chemicals in the Brain
A few days ago, I came across this interesting post on serotonin and dopamine and was reminded of it yesterday as I was listening to the songs of Barry Manilow. (OK. Please. Just be patient with me. I do have a point I want to share.)
When I was younger (“…so much younger than today…”) whenever I heard Barry Manilow’s songs, I would sing along until I cried (Yeah, I was that disgustingly dramatic.) I would think of the guys that I liked but didn’t even know I existed, or the guys that I liked but were not free, or the only one that broke my heart to pieces. (Who would not cry listening to “Even Now” and “Somewhere down the Road”???)
Now that I’m in my 40’s and in a stable, loving relationship with my husband of 10 years, and together raising a child, I feel absolutely nothing when I hear the songs that used to make me cry and later make me smile. When I listened to those same songs yesterday, there was not even a sigh. Nada. It seemed like that part of my mind or my heart just disappeared!
My husband thinks it’s just because I’m over that time in my life. Well, I have been over that period in my life for years now. But I used to have fond memories of that time. Now, even that fondness is gone.
So I wonder if those chemicals in my brain are up to something, or I am just getting old or already old.
Do old songs still make you cry or smile or angry? Do they have any effect on you at all?
Words left unsaid, deeds left undone

“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.” — Harriet Beecher Stowe
How often have you heard people say: I wish I had done this. I wish I had said that, after someone had left them? I have heard those too many times. I have even said them a few times when I was younger.
Most of the time we just take for granted the people around us, especially those close to us. We care about them, yet daily life makes us forget their need for affirmation. Or perhaps we are embarrassed to express our appreciation or even love for them. Unlike little children who would give a loving parent a kiss or a hug just because they feel like doing so, adults would think twice about showing affection for whatever reason.
When we, unexpectedly, lose someone, we tend to regret so many things. We cry because there are words we had wanted to say to them but did not get the chance to say (because, who knew he would die today?) Perhaps we had promised to visit but never got around to doing so. These regrets and the guilt can last a long time. I know. After 14 years, I still have not forgiven myself for not spending more time with my father before he passed on.
With my mother, my sisters and I were able to say what we wanted to say to her before she left us: we said sorry for the times we made her cry; we told her we loved her; we promised to look out for each other. And she, herself, was able to confess, ask forgiveness, and thank people, and let her daughters know what she wished for us to be and to do.
When my mother passed on, tears were shed. But they weren’t bitter tears. They were tears of sadness as we said goodbye to her, knowing we won’t see her again; they were also tears of love as we prayed for her eternal rest.
We may not know the time we will lose someone we care about, but we can try to avoid shedding bitter tears when they go, by saying those words and doing those deeds meant for them.
Neruda’s “If You Forget Me”: A Lesson in Loving

Centennial Park, Iligan, Philippines
Whether Pablo Neruda wrote this poem for his country, Chile, or for his wife, Matilde Urrutia does not make much difference to me. I like the kind of love portrayed in this poem. I like the tone of the speaker as he warns his lover …
“If you forget me
I want you to know
one thing. ”
It is not the sound of a desperate, pathetic lover who begs or promises to continue to wait even though the other has moved on.
It shows a speaker who thinks and is not controlled by silly emotions, a speaker/lover who demands reciprocity in a relationship.For truly, if one can be, and is reasonable, one will demand reciprocity in a relationship.
(Even God demands, commands love and faithfulness!)
“If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.”
Who wants to be forgotten by the one person you cannot forget? Of course, trying to forget someone is easier said than done. The more you try to forget, the more you will be reminded. This is perhaps the speaker’s way of saying, “Don’t think I will be pining for you. I will forget you before you can completely forget me!”
“If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
“…and my roots will set off/ to seek another land.” This is how it should be. One should be brave in seeking and starting a new life and not waste time and energy on someone who has forgotten.
Yet….
Though the poem begins with a kind of warning, a threat as to what the speaker can do should his lover forget him, it ends with a promise, an enticement as to what he can give if his lover remains true to him,
“…ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.”
Reciprocity.
On Forgiveness and Second Chances
I have often wondered what Jesus meant when he said one should forgive seventy times seven (Matthew 18:21-35). I don’t think anyone will take that literally (like 490 times), but I guess it means many, many times.
If God could forgive the world for what the world did to His Son (unlike Leonardo diCaprio’s character in The Revenant), then how could we, mere mortals, not forgive our fellow mortals?
But that’s just it. We are not God. We can try to forgive one person many, many times, but in the end the other gift that God gave us –reason, logic — would teach us to protect ourselves from being fooled, cheated or hurt again.
My question then is, is it immoral to refuse to give someone who has betrayed you, lied to you, hurt you, for the nth time, a chance for the nth time?
In the parable, the king sounded like a businessman, a moneylender who was compassionate enough to cancel a slave’s debt and actually “let him go”, after the latter begged the king to give him time to pay the debt.
Say for instance, the parable ended there, and the slave did not beat up a fellow slave who had owed him, would the king have trusted the same slave again? Would he have lent him money again? I don’t think so.
My point then is, yes, we can forgive people for the many times they betrayed our trust,for the many times they hurt us. But I think only a fool would give the same amount of trust to traitors/wrongdoers.
To me, forgiveness means accepting the fact that one was wronged, and not wishing the wrongdoer any ill, and actually sincerely wishing him well. But it does not necessarily mean giving him a second chance. Rather, it means letting him go his own way. Alone. Peacefully.
“Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”
Playing Dead
For My Miming

You used to play dead
When you felt
I wanted
Too much attention.
You would close your eyes
Stiffen your body
And hold your breath for a minute
Not making a sound, not moving an inch,
Making me think
You were dead
That you’d left me
And it was my fault.
You used to enjoy telling people
How scared I was as I shook your body
How hard you tried to control your laughter,
And how smart I was
To tickle your foot to “wake” you up.
Now as I look at how your lids don’t move
As your eyes are closed
Your body stiff and cold to the touch,
I am tempted to tickle your foot again.
But I’m not a child anymore
And I know this is no longer the silly game
That the once-goofy mother
Used to play with her youngest child.
The machines don’t lie
You’re gone.
You have really left me
And you won’t wake
No matter how many times
I whisper in your ear
Or squeeze your hand
Or kiss your cheeks.
The game has ended.
And I lost.
Stop. Look. Listen. Feel. Be grateful. Move on.

Sunset at Dalipuga, Iligan, Philippines










Weekly Photo Challenge: Windows
Photos were taken in Victoria, British Columbia















































































































































