a guinea pig theory

My sister is an animal lover. Actually, everyone in the family is (oh the list of animals we've had the pleasure of learning from!). But my sister is different, her aura changes when she's dealing with animals. There's something very peaceful, relaxed and powerful about her when she's interacting with pets (or creatures she would like to be pets).

My sister is strong and has her rough moments, but she is growing up into someone I admire so much. She is creative, travels alone, nursed a puppy sick with parvo back to life, tries to live simply (I told her about Leo Babauta and the 100 Things Challenge, but she's made quicker progress)... All in all, an amazing human being.

Say hello to Woody & Guthrie. Yes, my sister is a big music fan :)

Recently, she brought home two guinea pigs given by a friend. I watched her deal with them (and we've never had guinea pigs before) and she was so at peace. She was carrying them one by one to a bigger container, no qualms in holding an animal we've had no experience holding before. She was fearless and beautiful. And I saw how in that fearlessness, she was able to be very gentle and kind with the scared animals - a dichotomy that was refreshing to see.

There is the thinking that fearlessness is expressed in bold actions, aggression, a display of my willpower vs. yours/the world; my sister, in one minute of trying not to make guinea pigs squeal, disproved that. Fearlessness is also love that is big enough to be tender in situations not completely under our control. It is not doubting others' intentions, or second-guessing them, or trying to be steps ahead of them, or competing with them. And in the case of my sister and her fuzzy pets, it's accepting that they don't have an agenda apart from - at that moment - being what they are, guinea pigs.

Past experiences have given me a lot of fears that I'm still dealing with, but there are moments of lightheartedness that make me feel like myself. I'm still on this journey and working towards more pure moments of fearlessness that finds itself in kindness.

Here's to 2013!

dialogue with desire

It's a strange animal -- desire. It is intense in its urgency, yet it dies so slowly. The more you starve it, the bigger it grows, threatening to consume your every quark and atom. Unfulfilled desire is the most difficult animal of all. It is both fire in your belly and ice in your heart. How can one deal with something like this, manage a feeling that thrives on its unmanageability?

I'm dealing with this myself (compounded by regret -- not a nice feeling). At first, I tried kicking it out, forcing it out of my system because "I just can't handle it anymore". It wasn't working. These days, I'm trying to find peace by simply acknowledging it's there, letting it sit with me, trying to make friends with it...

"Hello, desire.

How are you?

I know you're in there.

I can feel you all hot and squiggly and eager to burst out of my skin.

I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill you when you wanted.

But i'm working on it.

Would you mind just sitting there quietly for a while?

I have to work on some things first so I can pay you the attention you deserve.

Can you please just sit there for a bit?

I promise we will have our talk and our time soon."

And after a deep breath, I sense that it stills. Thank God! 

Acknowledge, accept, make friends - sounds like a great formula for anything :)

Passion in the small things

"It is my passion in life."

The truth is, when I hear myself say that to people, I can't help but feel a little corny. I've even gone to the extent of adding a disclaimer, "I know it sounds cheesy but it is my passion in life."

It's not because I am shy of what I'm passionate about (which is being a pro bellydancer who trains as regularly as possible, performs, and teaches). It's just that, sometimes, it feels like such a scary word--"passion". There are so many meanings and expectations attached to this word. It proclaims so much -- a burning, an abandonment of sense, an all-encompassing consumption of your being that is daunting to experience in a world that may ask us to be pragmatic. Maybe I am not the only one who thinks this.

Since embarking on this life experiment, I've been challenging myself to use that word as often as possible, to make it a part of my casual, everyday vocabulary, to simply not be intimidated by "passion" and what most people say it entails.

And we shouldn't be, because passion can be in the routine, in the little things, and in the every day. I'm fortunate enough to know all shades of passionate people, and they show that it isn't just in the grand sweeping actions and bold declarations. It's also in the little things:

    in fixing a broken costume at the soonest possible time to be ready for the next performance, 

   choosing one word over the other while writing,

   adding just a pinch and not two of herbs to your cooking,

   mixing a drop or two more of yellow to paint that sunset,

   waking up 15 minutes earlier than usual for a meeting or presentation today,

   choosing to bring the bigger backpack on your trip,

   waiting 3 seconds before delivering your punchline,

   making your beloved feel better with a simple "I'm here"...

And we're already doing some of this! It's just the recognition that may be lacking - yes, folks, you may already be living the passionate life you've always wanted. You just haven't acknowledged it yet. Perhaps when we relate "passion" to the simpler actions we can be less afraid of saying it out loud.  It might even be a gift that will keep on giving -- making passion mean the everyday little things just may make these everyday little things feel grander.

The beautiful thing I realized is there is no pressure to express passion with fireworks all the time. It doesn't have to be that big movie blockbuster with the amazing special effects or that heart-stopping song with the majestic orchestral arrangement... It can be your everyday essential, a habit, a secret small thing that puts a smile on your face. And when we recognize passion also in the small things, maybe we can more fearlessly live ours.

what's your status update?

What we choose to share online is important, but it may also be worth it to look at why we share them. A too-honest read from Julie Gray over on HuffPo:

"You see, I am sitting in a café as I write this and I am knowing that if the air raid siren goes off again today, I have one minute and thirty seconds to hit "save", snap my computer shut and get to a bomb shelter. I know where it is -- it is right across the street. I have already done the one-minute thirty second dash twice in the past two days. I am surprised at how fast I can move. 

But while I'm doing it, while I'm grabbing my shoes, keys and passport and heading toward the bomb shelter, I'm thinking -- this is not happening. This is not real. But unfortunately, this is what is really going on. In this moment, this is my status update. And I can't wrap my mind around it. 

...
Here's my status update, my truth, my informed, on the ground take about what is "really going on." Sorry, I don't have a clever graphic to go with it but here it is: People are dying. Men, women, children. People. Death takes no sides. And the world is fanning the flames with ardor."

five more minutes

The alarm clock goes off, signaling a day of busyness that's about to begin. In your grogginess, you reach for the offending machine, hit the snooze button and enjoy five more minutes of escaping reality.

Today, I thought about what would happen if we changed our "five more minutes" snooze mentality. Instead of something that will feed our laziness, maybe we can think about 5 More Minutes as a test of our resolve and as a tool towards single-mindedness and hopefully improved productivity. This is a habit that many successful ones already have, but like many others, I struggle with it. Hence, this effort at a little shift in perspective. I hope it helps :)

Thanks to the brownie test, I've become quite addicted to testing my determination. The latest episode happened at work during a relatively light day. I was tempted to go on Facebook quite frequently. One time, I glanced upon the clock and instantly thought, "Wait, I'll test myself. I'll go on Facebook in 30 minutes." After 30 minutes, I got on the site but thought to myself, "No, five more minutes". And I've been giving myself five more minutes, and yet even five more minutes. After giving so many five minute sets, it started to seem silly to not go full throttle and just give it 30 more minutes, or (gasp!) an hour. In the process, I was freeing up time for myself to do work and little errands for myself. Bonus: I wasn't thinking about Facebook that frequently anymore, and I wasn't cluttering up my friends' feeds!
 
I couldn't help but think that maybe redefining the "five more minutes" snooze mentality to 5 More Minutes of hitting the snooze button on the unimportant is the way to go. It's like a strength-building exercise. Imagine yourself hitting a snooze button every time you're tempted or distracted, the 5 More Minutes won't hurt. Try it and let's build our anti-distraction muscle together!

a boy in the house

There is a boy in the house living with us at the moment. He is the grandson of our kasambahay who says she had to take the boy away from immediate family members who are not good influences. He is a wee boy, tiny for a four-year-old. He is cross-eyed on the left and his beautiful black and shiny hair is in a classic bowl cut. 

I took to him immediately. I love kids, but there are special kids who just capture your heart. When he plays, it's like he's making movies, complete with dialogue, sound effects and premises. He makes up songs in a snap. and he tries valiantly to help his lola around the house. 

His name sounds rich, Giancarlo, but he likes to be called Dagul ("big guy").

A few days ago I got him a banana-caramel treat from a coffee shop. When I looked for him when I got home, he was already asleep. His lola said "Ay kaya pala sabi niya uuwian mo daw siya (That's why he said you were going to bring him something)". The next morning, while he was playing on his play banig, I gave him the slice. He peeked into the paper bag, held it, and just looked at me for the longest time, at least long enough for him to blink several times. I thought he was going to cry or something (glad he didn't). He didn't say thank you (and I'm not sure he knows how to), but the look he gave me said it well enough. He took a bite and smiled at me.

The other day I asked him for a hug, and it's like he didn't know what to do with his arms. His lola said "Nakalimutan mo na kung paano yumakap (You have forgotten how to hug)". It broke my heart. How often did he get hugs where he used to live? And I couldn't help but admire his spirit--still bright despite not getting everything a child should be getting. I've a mind to send him to school (but will need to make inquiries). For some strange reason, I want him to have a good future, or at least a fighting chance. 

I knew it, falling for a boy is always trouble, the good kind. 

Dagul, my favorite big little man