B_r_a_v_e_s_o_u_l

Was I (heartlessly) deceived? Maybe, maybe not…I do not know. In fact, I refuse to know! I simply refuse to uncover the truth. I couldn’t care less. Ignorance is bliss, I say, though my friends insist complacency is sheer stupidity.

Well, I’d rather be a delighted fool….complacent with her ignorance…than a miserable soul, bawling over inanities, nursing an ego unjustly wronged.

I could have done something to get to the bottom of the stinking fish, but its stench was foul enough to send me back to my world of decent souls, naughty and impish though most of my friends may be. Basta, bahala siya. Problema na niya yon, dba? And absolutely….definitely not mine! It’s not even worth my while.

I would never trade my sanity for mere a mere material possession. Maybe he can, but I can’t!

So, instead of re-acquainting myself with this entity called “deceit,” I go about my usual form of escape…..hanging out at Powerbooks, Fully Booked and Hobbes and Landes …. and tailing my best friend as he goes about scouring the shelves of Music One.

That is when I found for myself yet another tarot deck… The Da Vinci Enigma Tarot. I was like a squirt, jumping up and down, heart walloping wild, when I found the box lying dusty and unnoticed at Fully Booked. Oh, it was such a fabulously wicked find well in tune with the Da Vinci Code Fame, and by coincidence, put together by the same author of my other favorite deck, The Celtic Wisdom Tarot.

But don’t get me wrong. As I always say….. I am into Tarot, but definitely not for divination….or what we call “hula.” Nope, that’s not my thing. That’s precisely why I do not go for traditional tarot decks. Instead, I opt for themed decks that weave charismatic, compelling stories around the cards. My all time favorite remains the Osho Zen Tarot, which draws upon the wisdom of Zen in tapping the language of one’s inner self.

At Powerbooks, I finally got “The Zahir,” Paolo Coelho’s latest masterpiece. I had been craving for the hardbound copy for the longest time but was too busy working, partying…and hurting. What luck therefore when I learned it was marked down, substantially, from its intro price. Call it an ignorant fool’s luck, but I was indeed, I believe, being rewarded justly by the heavens.

At Hobbes and Lands I decided against finally acquiring the Bop It Extreme. I tried it once and I was obsessed. Or maybe not….or not that yet….because I still had the will to say “not this time girl, not this time (in the certainty that someday some good friend will hand it as a gift….hahaha!).

At Music One, my best friend announced he was buying me any CD I fancied so it took me a while to choose from among The BeeGees Love Collection (in a really dainty flowery package), the 2006 Grammy Nominations and the BossaNova with 2 CDs of chilled Brazilian Soul in a sultry orange box.

After much deliberation (with my inner self…haha!), I wound up with the BossaNova. This choice convinced me that I probably need to pause for a while now, to savour the soft slow music of the soul and to do just what I had been neglecting in favor of trivial pursuits – resoul.

It helped a lot that night, therefore, when eagerly pouring through The Da Vinci Enigma Tarot, that almost everything was hinting towards my need for introspection.

’Everyone’s soul is an enigma waiting to be read. Destiny is not a fixed or fated pathway, but an unfolding blueprint that we each have to discover as we experience life. There is a treasury of gifts within each of us that helps us read the enigma of our unique code. The way we use these gifts and weave them together help determine our ultimate pathway through life. By knowing ourselves, by looking more intently at the reasons why we were born, we discover our unique soul’s signature, becoming more harmoniously aligned with the universe.”

As such, my experience of deceit has gone to the backseat. I have to admit it left me annoyed for days but I have finally decided to leave it behind and completely walk away from all traces of it….unscathed….I fervently hope.

I don’t want another heartbreak

I don’t need another turn to cry, no

I don’t want to learn the hard way

Baby, hello, oh no, goodbye

But you got me like a rocket

Shooting straight accross the sky

It’s the way you love me

It’s a feeling like this

It’s centrifugal motion
It’s perpetual bliss
It’s that pivotal moment
It’s impossible
This kiss, this kiss (Unstoppable)
This kiss, this kiss

Cinderella said to Snow White
How does love get so off course,oh
All I wanted was a white knight
With a good heart, soft touch, fast horse
Ride me off into the sunset
Baby, I’m forever yours

It’s the way you love me
It’s a feeling like this
It’s centrifugal motion
It’s perpetual bliss

It’s that pivotal moment
It’s unthinkable
This kiss, this kiss (Unsinkable)
This kiss, this kiss

You can kiss me in the moonlight
On the rooftop under the sky, oh
You can kiss me with the windows open
While the rain comes pouring inside
Kiss me in sweet slow motion
Let’s let every thing slide
You got me floating, you got me flying

It’s the way you love me
It’s a feeling like this
It’s centrifugal motion
It’s perpetual bliss
It’s that pivotal moment
It’s subliminal
This kiss, this kiss (It’s Criminal)
This kiss, this kiss

It’s the way you love me baby (the way you love me baby)

It’s the way you love me darling

It’s the way you love me

It’s a feeling like this

It’s centrifugal motion

It’s perpetual bliss

It’s that pivotal moment
It’s subliminal
This kiss, this kiss (It’s Criminal)
This kiss, this kiss

"This Kiss" (Faith Hill) is oh so criminal it has been playing non-stop in my pod - or at least that’s how I programmed it to be, with its own playlist loaded with 4 tracks, set to both "shuffle" and "repeat" - harharhar!

Heard my friend belting it out one night and that instant, I was hooked. Not that I was singing it for someone (oh heavens….how I wish) but it just felt so right- the lyrics, the beat and the magic of it all.

It’s all about me wanting to be swept off my feet (yet, again…..) but not falling achingly hard afterwards.

It’s the stupid & stubborn-hopeless romantic-damsel-in-distress-gone-cynical child in me simply wanting for a white knight, with a good heart, soft touch, fast horse….. oh if such a myth even exists………. Oh well, i dunno, i guess, it must only be….This Kiss!

….my blurts….. =)

My best pal, Binx, proudly goes about with a naughty smirk these days after our brief, albeit positively charged, encounter with "THE" Rex Navarette Sunday night. In fact, I can hear her this very moment (or more like "imagine" her…as she’s in Baguio and I’m in chaotic Makati) boasting about "THE" Rex carrying her luggage up the tricky stairs of Cava at Somerset Olympia….("It’s unfair, I’m six years old, this is 50 pounds….harharhar!)

You see, we were lugging around a suitcase and two big plastic bags of "pasalubongs" when two proudly pinoy-looking guys bumped into us at the lobby of Olympia. Fortunately for us, one of them turned out to be a long lost Ford officemate…my good friend John M.

Rude as I always am, I went about chattering until I realized I had to introduce Binx to John and his, "omigosh….REX NAVARETTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! is your friend??????

"Ey, my two good friends, umm, that’s Robert and Gil ….well,me too….. are great "fans" of yours…omigosh….badly brown….oh my….maritess and the superfriends…..omigosh…. i can’t believe it…..it is THE Rex Naverette."

So, embarassed as he was with the "starstruck me," he and John offered to carry our load up the stairs. I wanted so badly to go run and call Gil but goodbyes were already dispensed and we needed to go towards the back of the building while they needed to head the opposite way…or so we thought until we found ourselves face to face again by the back entrance of Olympia.

At this point, I went running to the parked Ranger and started shreiking to the top of my voice. "Giiiilllllll, Rex….. Rex…… Rex……. Rex Navarette……with John….you know…..John from Ford????…..!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This, of course, sent Gil dashing for his life towards us just in time to shake John’s hand and Rex’s for that matter.

The rest, I guess, is history. The only reason I wanted this story a part of my virtual space is because I never realized i can get pretty "shrieky" and not dumbfounded when startstruck….hmmm, unless you count that time Jericho Rosales visited us at the BMW Pavilion during the 1 Series launch… which was rather…..hhmmm, I’d rather not start…. =)

Yesterday, we went through the difficult process of burying a dear friend. Richie was the jolliest among the group. She was light-heartedly jovial and with such an infectiously bubbly personality, it was almost always impossible not to spot her amongst even the largest of crowds. She was always the persevering one, that friend who was forever attempting to get the group together, no matter if it meant 14 years to the day we neatly stashed our togas away, no matter if it was to be on the last night of her week-long wake.

As I write this post, my heart cries out with guilt more than grief. You don’t grieve the passing of an ebullient friend, instead you bask in the myriad of wonderfully bright memories she had neatly spun unto your life. You remember her meaningful smiles, her cheery disposition, her enjoyable narratives, her hearty laughs…and then you start feeling regret for the many times you failed to do the same for her. I am painfully overwhelmed by this regret and sadly consumed by guilt.

I am probably the worst epitome of a friend, or so I conceded when asked to say my piece the night of her necrological rites. Nervously clutching the microphone, I voiced out how I never went out of the way to check on her, the same she would not miss any of our birthdays, the same way she would call to cheerfully announce a university reunion is underway. She had often reached out, each time as chirpy as a morning bird. I, on the other hand, had often remained stolid, each time only as thankful for the news but always as impassive as a lazy bear.

It was a difficult process indeed, saying goodbye and witnessing the last of her physical presence taking its final resting place. It was a rite totally alien to me, and all throughout the process I was hoping it could also be a symbolic ritual to permanently sealing away deep remorse for the many things left unsaid and for a multitude of actions left unrealized.

It was hard seeing you go Richie, it was tough and equally painful bidding adieu because I knew I never lived up to your notion of a friend. But you have set an example, an illustrious one at that. You have set the bar high for us but I am confident we too can nurture our group’s friendship and camaraderie just the way you would have eagerly continued to do so.

Walk on my friend, and this time, bask in the glory of God’s everlasting amity. We love you dearly and you will always remain in our hearts…our one and only Richie!

For Maria Teresa Muñoz, July 8, 1970 to July 9, 2005.

To my surpise, I arrive much too early for my interview. Realizing I am more than 20 minutes prompt, I start fumbling for reasons to the seemingly glorious reinvention in my sense of time.

I figure it can only be either of two things. One, I am damn too serious about this opportunity; or two, I am simply bargaining for more time in my new BCBG skirt suit and my ϋber fashionable Enzo Angiolinis.

I would have savored the spare time to pick up where I left off with Iyanla Vanzant, but an almost too condescending woman, with a far more polished pomp than I can ever muster, walks up to me and announces (in unanppealing staccato voice) that the director is ready to see me now.

"I presume you already know the protocol…."

That dragging your expensive pumps has become fashionable these days?

"…that we only give you 20 minutes to say your piece. Satisfied or not, I will have to politely…"

Well you should!

"…thank you for your time and show you the door. It’s pretty simple…"

How you make your applicants feel like they’re pawns and not individuals?

"…how the company feels an efficient Marketing Manager can market herself in less than 15 minutes, the first 5 minutes, of course, being a simple exchange of standard pleasantries," she concludes as we reach the door of the most techno-modern office I have ever seen in my entire working life.

I take my seat across the director’s table, and Ms. Condescending takes hers across mine, a leather planner and an expensive pen on hand.

I start with my pleasantries, carefully stating my name as if I were taking oath in some big, jam-packed auditorium.

I hesitate for a second, then I regain my composure and say, "I understand you need a 20-minute Marketing Manager, Mr. Fuller. I would have loved to take up your 20 minutes but then again I figured my career is all about long-term decisions and laborious debates, about what not to pursue and what not to bother with, about what to even discuss and what to simply dispense with."

"I regret having wasted almost 3 minutes of your time today, but if I may be excused, I’d like to spend the next 20 minutes talking to my agent please. Thank you."

I carefully rise from my seat and head straight for the door. As a last hoorah, I add pageantry to my gait and casually look back to see a hand with a pen suspended in mid-air and a pair of eyes transfixed on my Angiolinis.

Two hours later, in the coffee shop of a five star hotel, I pick up my agent’s call on my mobile.

"See me in my office in 20 minutes. I just stepped out of the Bantam Press headquarters.  I have your offer on hand."

"Alright, spare me the protocol and spill the beans."

"Marketing Manager for Commercial Publications. Asking price of more than double your current package under negotiation but all other concessions are in."

"Hmmm…living, learning, light, luminosity. Opportunity, oneness, openness. Vastness, versatility, virtue, victory. Enlightenment, eternity, endurance, endeavor," UNTIL TODAY, Iyanla Vanzant’s illustrious work, transports me back to the waiting lounge. Checking my watch, I see I have five more minutes to my 10:00 am interview.

FICTION / FB

While I’m at it (the topic of books, I mean), I might as well talk about what has kept me looking forward to July’s rainy days and long stormy nights. I have yet to complete my "re-reads" but I have already primed my imagination for those historical thrillers and monumental sagas waiting to jump out of my dusty, all purpose shelf.

1) THE HISTORIAN (by Elizabeth Kostova) - "If your pulse flutters at the thought of castle ruins and descents into crypts by moonlight, you will savor every creepy page of Elizabeth Kostova’s long but beautifully structured thriller The Historian." Such goes the Amazon review and already, I can’t wait to curl up in my tattered, albeit cozy, sofa for some pulse-racing pages down primeval row.

2) THE ILLUSTRATED DA VINCI CODE (by Dan Brown) - Alright, I’m a late bloomer! It’s just that I refuse to ride the hype so I waited this long( at least for the drama to subside) before diving into this century’s most controversial masterpiece. Besides denouements are almost always better than pinnacles. At least I get to beat the movie release & saved up enough "moolah" to get me more than a flimsy paperback.

  3) ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) - Again, I procastinated here. I was, for the longest time, engrossed in the romance of yesteryears, reveling in such works as A.S. Byatt’s Possession, G.G. Marquez’ Cholera & Frederick Forsyth’s Phantom, so that soon after, I opted for lighter, modern day chic-lit. Now, I’m all set for epic sagas yet again.

4) THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING (by Milan Kundera) - Yes, I dawdle and I linger and I dilly-dally.  I’ve had this book for quite sometime now but I was actually saving it to cap some really heavy reading I saw coming. True enough, reviews say it’s light yet engrossing - just the mid-scale melodrama you need to keep your heart thumping without necessarily diminishing your momentum for excellent prose.

Hmmm, sometimes I begin to wonder if tropical depressions are indeed synonymous to literary passions.

2005.06.03 (reposted)

Am, at the moment, revisiting two invaluable reads - Paolo Coelho’s "By the River Piedra I Sat Down & Wept" and Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ "Love in the Time of Cholera."

Both books are to me classic novels of love - and of life - lived by those who love with the entirety of their lives. As I am a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, I take shelter in the magic of distant worlds and of spirited souls groping about in search of their soul’s companion. It is in such humble tales that I find refuge, especially when faced with the need to keep up with the surreal demands of a conflicting society.

While I choose to move in and out of my routines with nary a thought of disrupting other busy bees, there are those who simply take it upon themselves to challenge your monotony with unreasonable interruptions. For them, to see you agitated is a mere pleasure - so much so that sometimes, I am led to believe that there are those whose hapiness are spurred only by others’ misfortunes.

When such incidents abound, I shut the world out and clam up in my shell like I were a wounded beaver in a dug-up hole. But more than the beaver, I am blessed with the company of great minds like Richard Bach, Paolo Coelho, G.G. Marquez & Isabel Allende. They keep me grounded while transporting me to realms beyond my phsysical reach and keeping me enriched with unspeakable truths as taking risks and following my hearts desires.

********************************************************************************************************************

"You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected.

Every day, God gives us the sun - and also one moment in which we have the ability to change everything that makes us unhappy. Every day, we try to pretend that we haven’t perceived that moment, that it doesn’t exist - that today is the same as yesterday and will be the same as tomorrow. But if people really pay attention to their everyday lives, they will discover that magic moment. It may arrive in the instant when we are doing something mundane, like putting our front-door key in the lock; it may lie hidden in the quiet that follows the lunch hour on in the thousand and one things that all seem same to us. But that moment exists - a moment when all the power of the stars becomes a part of us and enables us to perform miracles.

Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a conquest. Our magic moment helps us change and sends us off in search of our dreams. Yes, we are going to suffer, we will have difficult times, and we will experience many dissapointments - but all of this is transitory; it leaves no permament mark. And one day we will look back with pride and faith at the journey we have taken.

Pitiful is the person who is afraid of taking risks. Perhaps this person will never be disappointed or disillusioned; perhaps she won’t suffer the way people do when they have a dream to follow. But when that person looks back - and at some point everyone looks back - she will hear her heart saying, "What have you done with the miracles that God planted in your days? What have you done with the talents God bestowed on you? You buried yourself in a cave because you were fearful of losing those talents. So this is your heritage: the certainty that you wasted your life.

Pitiful are the people who must realize this. Because when they are finally able to believe in miracles, their life’s magic moments will have already passed them by."

Paulo Coelho, BY THE RIVER PIEDRA I SAT DOWN & WEPT

2005.06.22 (reposted)

Been too busy lately that picking up a pen, or a stylus for that matter, was never an option for me when faced with the luxury of what others call "free time." That said, I guess a one-liner from Resoul today would suffice for whatever "blog time" was lost between tons of paperwork and loads of responsbilities. Nothing much…just a very simple nugget of truth once more, one that goes…

To learn to open your heart to others is to learn how to look past the behaviour to see the hurt."

2005.5.18 (reposted)

Went to Resoul @ Onstage right after work today, and though I had my sights set on bagging a new pair of "pink tsinelas" and some candy-colored tanks, I made it just in time for the meat of the talk. Boy, was I genuinely glad I did, a shopping bag with with 2 tanks but no tsinelas in tow. I honestly was not prepared for it, but yes, I shed a few tears. Nothing quite moves you that way sometimes an ordinary, no non-sense quote, casually thrown in the middle of a story, catches you offguard and leaves you wanting for more. "Wisdom" is how most prefer to call it, nuggets of simple truths that can otherwise leave a tremendous impact on your character when you grasp just the right meaning at just the opportune time. "Wisdom," I’d like to believe, does come to me in moments like these.

====Excerpts from today’s learnings====

James 1:2 "Consider it pure joy… a sheer gift… when tests and challenges come at you from all sides."

4 Facts of Life You Need to Know

1.Problems are inevitable.

2.Problems are unpredictable.

3.Problems are of many kinds.

4.Problems are purposeful. Realize that they come… to produce in you. Misfortune is an occasion to reveal character. Trials do not destory people, they simply build character.

3 Purposes of Problems in Your Life

1.It Purifies your faith.

2.It Fortifies your patience.

3.It Sanctifies your character.

"You are in a character course and the only way for you to learn is to go through things you refuse to have in your life." He teaches you inner joys in the midst of your problems.

How to Handle Your Problems

1.Rejoice - Consider it pure joy when you face trials

2.Request - Learn to pray for wisdom when you do not know the way. Wisdom is knowing what God what you to learn.

3.Relax - Allow God to work.

========================================================

So what was my simple nugget of truth today? "They can choose to take away everything I have, but they can never take away how I choose to respond." And so here I am … resouled, yet again. 2005.05.11 (reposted)

"Be not afraid of your own shadow," my Papa would often say, "for all you know, it could well be your guardian angel, walking behind you."  These words will never leave me, I know, for they are constant reminders of a youth well spent… with a father always willing to share an anecdote or two about his own growing up years pre-WWII. As a child, I was afraid of anything black, dark or brooding. I was afraid of eerie unlit corners…I was afraid of nooks where I had to grope my way about. But then again, looking back, there were more times Papa would send me to such places than times I’d try to stay away. Being the youngest, I always had the longest list of household errands, including crawling under the house to gather eggs neatly stashed away by Papa’s so-called "pets." It was either I got tricked into it or I simply learned the value of trust that early. Come to think of it, simply hearing Papa’s voice from behind, calmly calling out instructions and patiently beaming my way with his trusty flashflight, was more than enough to banish my fears. In fact, to this day, simply reliving any of Papa’s vignettes, quotable quotes or even his random talks, would send me surges of courage and valour, enough to make me face whatever adversity lies ahead. He’s been through so much in his life and though he’s been weathered by time, he remains strong and beaming with a good 82 years of hard-earned wisdom. Today, as I wade through the corral-floored shores of his hometown, I no longer fear my own shadow. Instead, I smile, nostalgic and all, as I can hear him saying…. "Go on my brave girl…. face life and everything it has to offer…" Advanced Happy Birthday Papa! From your little girl who will never lose the pride of having been born into the "Natividad" clan of Bani, Pangasinan.

2005.05.08 (reposted)