IGME Files

Illumined

    I have an anecdote from the 2007 Teachers College Doctoral Hooding Ceremony at the Riverside Church, New York where my sister, Charisse, finished her Doctorate.  The Gothic-style church is so staggering, (see sample photo at http://www.flickr.com/photos/biotron/6203718/), that you'd feel you're being transported back in the 13th century in an instant.  My parents and I were stricken with fatigue already, what with the University Commencement held at the Columbia Univ's Morningside Campus held earlier mid-morning of May 16th. 

      Anyways, we were seated at the balcony of the Church.  As they were calling out the names for the hooding, I went down to the center aisle and stood quietly.  Armed with a camera and the program as cue, I shouted at the top of my lungs when my sister's name was called out and said "Mabuhay" and followed it up with a "whoooo, whoooo."  I got a faint, amused laughter from the conferred doctors.  Each family had their own kind of cheers, why should we be left out?  It was a proud moment, not only that a Filipina, my sister, has achieved this far, but also a moment for our family.  I knew my voice bounced all the way up the balcony, to my parents.  I was also cheering them in a way that they have instilled the value of hard work in us.   

     My father worked in Saudi Arabia even before I learned the real meaning of the initials -- OCW were (overseas contract worker); meanwhile, my mother was then working in Bureau of Education as a researcher.  Our money wasn't enough for the family and for our other relatives.  I realized we didn't have enough money when I was like 5 years old, a cotton candy seller was plying our neighborhood, I excitedly called my mama for that sweet rolled-up candy.  I was refused, then I thought to myself, "that was just 25 cents."  And then twenty-two years later, I was standing in front of my sister, a scholar in one of the best universities in the world.  Amazing. 

     I THINK WE RIGHTFULLY DESERVE THIS TRIP, IF NOT FOR MY PARENTS.

     The speech was by Thomas Sobol.  He used a beautiful poem towards the end of the speech.  It behooved me to download this and share this with you, knowing that humanity is going in this direction. 

In Time Like Air

by May Sarton

Consider the mysterious salt;

In water it must disappear.

It has no self.  It knows no fault.

Not even sight may apprehend it.

No one may gather it, or spend it.

It is dissolved, and everywhere.

But, out of water into air,

It must resolve into a presence,

Precise and tangible and here.

Faultlessly pure, faultlessly white,

It crystallizes in our sight,

And has defined itself to essence.

What element dissolves the soul

So it may be both found and lost,

In what suspended as a whole?

What is the element so blest

That there identity can rest

As salt in the clear water cast?

Love, in its early transformation,

And only love may so design it

That the self flows in pure sensation

Is all dissolved and found at last

Without a future or a past,

And a whole life suspended in it.

The faultless crystal of detachment

Comes after, cannot be created

Without the first intense attachment.

Even the saints achieve this slowly;

For us, more human and less holy,

In time like air is essence stated.

    

      This poem stands on its own, but for those who want to have the bigger picture and how it was used contextually, please click http://www.tc.columbia.edu/i/media/tomsobolmedalspeech.doc for the full transcript. 

Due To Disinterested Public Demand

    Exactly after two weeks since I announced it would be my last blog, in Friendster blog that is, I am taking back what I said because of, you guess it, two people.  My then-decision was based on my lame reaction of reaching the point that I was at my most vulnerable and closing-off would be the better, if not the best option at the time. 

    One of those two is a former colleague, the other a stranger; my friend brought this 'stranger' along.  I felt the hunch to meeting this friend of mine after a lengthy phone conversation, catching up on each other of sorts.  On the day of our meeting, I had a dream that just wouldn't go away.  This is one of my weirdest dreams I knew I was bent on searching for clues, or answer to the clues (however you may look at it).  The significance of this dream in my life and the seeming connection of my meeting my friend and her friend became real to me. 

     A book of poems was handed to me by my friend's friend, written by her.  I opened the book randomly and there it was, a poem called "Decline/Ascent." Now, that was a direct answer to my dream.  I felt joyous, didn't know a dream and a little poem could empower me so much as this.  Have lots of work to do.

P.S.  For those people wanting to know what my dream was, just ask me.  I'll tell you.

Lettin’ It Out – My Last Friendster Blog

      Initially, when I started this blog, I made myself clear that I was going to express myself, through writing, the experiences I went through or any emotion or thoughts I have, even my included here dreams I have.  I have filtered them out – for an audience.  Right now, I have 606 people on my list, friends and strangers alike.  Who’s reading?  I don’t want to deny, but hell, I care, not for the number of those reading or the number of comments.  I care for the composition of those reading.  It came to a point that a dilemma has cropped up, whether I want to let everyone know without them passing judgments on me and my being. 

      In blogging, you could be your own self, but what happens when you feel you have crossed the line between writing to express and writing to impress.  When you have put all the embelishments there is, but still, something’s missing.  Even when you are compelled to write, you will have already filtered out in your mind other things that you think would not be accepted.  Conversely, it’s also hard to put those details of your life without thinking of shocking your loved ones, or incriminating friends or yourself, putting off strangers, or worse, losing your job.  When you decide to let it out, is too much information enough to liberate oneself?  When you write, for whom do you validate? 

     There are few of my blogs here that after posting them, I really felt exposed that I wished I had not posted them.  And I want to tell you this too, that those lazy times (meaning the times I had not written and decided to keep them for myself) were happy times and great insights I’ve had. 

     My main argument in blogging is that it has so democratized how you view your world (and the world to you) that it has left out intimate moments with people.  A ‘friend’ reads your blogs and he/she may not even keep in touch for a month, a year; and still can know about what you do.  Your good friend becomes your anonymous-reader/virtual-friend.  I don’t want to have relationships like that. 

     I have thought of deleting at least a hundred profiles that have infiltrated my account who I have no connection at all, but that would mean going through their names and trying to have a face-recall.  And before I know it, that would also require questioning the remaining hundreds if they deserve a glimpse of my life, and I have no time thinking about that either. 

    Frienster blog has served its purpose and I have learned I can’t separate myself/edit myself out from my writing.  I am moving on to another blog site that has a private and public viewing feature.  Or maybe I’d just create an anonymous account for everyone to read.    I just know I love writing, but it will never love me back.