|
| in loving memory of Tito James Atienza +
It’s late; the theater is close to deserted, the lights dim. A man places his hands firmly on a metal bar, part of a scaffolding. He climbs up, steps on the makeshift wooden platform and reaches up. He fixes a screw here and there and changes the gels at ten feet above ground level. He grins broadly at me on the ground, gives me a thumbs-up sign and slowly climbs down the scaffolding. We disassemble the scaffolding, place the heavy metal pieces outside and lock up.
Outside the theater, I bring out my cell phone to call for my sundo, but before I get to do that, the man I’m with says, “Igo, sabay ka na sa akin. Your house is on the way naman eh.” I smile, scratch the back of my head and take him up on his offer.
On the trip to my house, I ask him all about many things—questions scientific in nature, or about his love life, or about the Chinese Culture he belonged to. He answers them all with confidence and enthusiasm, and before long I realize that we were already outside my house. He notes that we have no electricity. He says: “Take a look at the poste. There’s a metal ring around it, look at it for its number. Report that to Meralco, so that they can attend to it right away.” I smile, scratch my head, get off the car and thank him profusely for the ride. He shows me his wide grin again, and waves goodbye. I notice that he doesn’t leave yet even as I get off his car; he waited for me to get in first before leaving, flashing his headlights as a gesture of goodbye.
I idolize this man so much. I’ve often talked with my mother about how much the guy knows about such a wide spectrum of topics, and how it never got into his head. He was willing to share so much of what he knew, all you needed to do was ask. He was perpetually present, from social gatherings to sweatshop days, heck, even dance lessons. He was a call, a text away, and in a while, you’d see his Civic, or Galant, or Starex parked outside Sibol, and you’d see his wide grin, and you’d see his gigantic, heavy toolbox, waiting to be carried.
An isolated incident I had with him would tell you all about the kind of man he was.
It was another late night; he was up the ladder, fixing the light used to light up Josef as he prays to God in Adarna and also for the last scene in Sinta!, as Narding and Sinta reconcile and embrace in the rain. He was on the second to the highest rung, about ten feet above the floor. In one hand he was holding the expensive light bulb used for the light he was fixing. I was in the same room, looking outside to check if people were still there. Suddenly I heard a shout, and as I shifted my head to look where the shout came from, I saw a human figure falling off the ladder straight into the theater seats. It was all in a flash—one moment he was up there, the next, he was sprawled on the seat, right after I heard the sound of metal, presumably from where he crashed into the seats. I ran to his side, asking him where the pain was. He gently lifted his hand, inhaled deeply, and I was stunned silly, my feet glued to the floor. I shout for help, and look back at him. After about five minutes of suspenseful silence and heavy breathing, he spoke: “Nabasag ba yung ilaw?” I looked at the light bulb he was holding, where it lay on the floor, and saw that it was undamaged. I report the status of the light bulb, and he heaves a sigh. I asked him if he could still drive home and offered to drive for him or to call my dad. He said he was okay.
I started to move outside, but he called me, and said, “Hindi pa tapos yung trabaho! Tapusin ko lang.” I stared at him in disbelief, and walked with him to the balcony. All the while, he was whispering both to himself and me, “Praise God for trials!” He fixed the wiring of the lights, moved to the lights console and tinkered around with the switches. Voila! The lights worked! It was beautiful, and all the more so after I saw what he went through to make it like that.
He asked me to keep what I saw to myself, so that Mr. Pagsi and his family wouldn’t worry about him. He put others before himself even though I knew at that time he was feeling tremendous pain.
And guess what:
He offered me a ride home.
I rode with him, so that I could see if he could really drive properly despite his pain. Same routine: he dropped me off, grinned widely, waited for me to get in before leaving, and flashed his headlights again. This time around he put his head out the window and gave a thumbs-up sign, and shouted, “I’m OK! Don’t worry.”
***
This man is now in Heaven. He’s probably up there, fixing some circuitry for some Heavenly Theater, getting the job done just in the nick of time right before the Angels put on another majestic show. He’d probably stay in some lights box, or a balcony, controlling the lights from there, grinning widely at the masterpiece he’s lighting up. God’s in the audience, and unlike many mortal audiences, God knows about the guy up there lighting the whole show, and God applauds him, and maybe, God grins widely at him as well.
And I’ll remember him saying, “I’m OK! Don’t worry.”
And I’ll say to myself,
“Yeah, where you are, I know you’re OK. And I sure won’t worry.”
And I’ll look up at the sky, look for some heavenly lighting, and I’ll grin the same broad grin he would show me when he was still back here. And I know, for sure,
you’d grin back, Tito James.
| | |
| Everything seems so different under the night sky
When the sun rises the shadows subside
but they wait to come out again as the sun retreats
Under the night sky imperfections are hidden
but so does beauty hide as well
and the sun comes out to show the beauty
and the imperfections
But to you no light will lie
You will shed your light on the sun
and she will be beautiful
You will motion to the moon
and she will shed the shadows that she has worn all her life
You will step on shadows
and they will dream of becoming what they aren't
You are beautiful.
You are Beauty.
You are You.
| | |
| I got this from the Sibol Yahoogroup. I know where I want to work in the near future, thanks to this :))
***
Nice read and certainly the opposite of our current "instant
gratification" mentality that is so pervasive today.
An interesting reflection: Slow Down Culture
It's been 18 years since I joined Volvo, a Swedish company.
Working for them has proven to be an interesting experience.
Any project here takes 2 years to be finalized, even if the idea
is simple and brilliant. It's a rule.
Globalize processes have caused in us (all over the world) a
general sense of searching for immediate results. Therefore,
we have come to posses a need to see immediate results.
This contrasts greatly with the slow movements of the Swedish.
They, on the other hand, debate, debate, debate, hold x quantity
of meetings and work with a slowdown scheme. At the end, this
always yields better results.
Said in another words:
1. Sweden is about the size of San Pablo , a state in Brazil.
2. Sweden has 2 million inhabitants.
3. Stockholm, has 500,000 people.
4. Volvo, Escania, Ericsson, Electrolux, Nokia are some of its
renowned companies. Volvo supplies NASA.
The first time I was in Sweden, one of my colleagues picked me up
at the hotel every morning. It was September, a bit cold and snowy.
We would arrive early at the company and he would park far away
from the entrance (2000 employees drive their car to work). The first
day, I didn't say anything, either the second or third. One morning I
asked, "Do you have a fixed parking space? I've noticed we park far
from the entrance even when there are no other cars in the lot." To
which he replied, "Since we're here early we'll have time to walk, and
whoever gets in late will be late and need a place closer to the door.
Don't you think? Imagine my face.
Nowadays, there's a movement in Europe name Slow Food.
This movement establishes that people should eat and drink slowly,
with enough time to taste their food, spend time with the family,
friends, without rushing. (It's healthier pa)
Slow Food is against its counterpart: the spirit of Fast Food and what
it stands for as a lifestyle. Slow Food is the basis for a bigger movement
called Slow Europe, as mentioned by Business Week.
Basically, the movement questions the sense of "hurry" and "craziness"
generated by globalization, fueled by the desire of "having in quantity"
(life status) versus "having with quality", "life quality" or the "quality
of
being". French people, even though they work 35 hours per week, are
more productive than Americans or British. Germans have established
28.8 hour workweeks and have seen their productivity been driven up
by 20%.
This slow attitude has brought forth the US's attention, pupils of the
fast and the "do it now!". This no-rush attitude doesn't represent doing less
or having a lower productivity. It means working and doing things with
greater quality, productivity, perfection, with attention to detail and less
stress. It means reestablishing family values, friends, free and leisure time. Taking
the "now", present and concrete, versus the "global", undefined and
anonymous. It means taking humans' essential values, the simplicity of
living. It stands for a less coercive work environment, more happy,
lighter and more productive where humans enjoy doing what they know best how
to do. It's time to stop and think on how companies need to develop
serious quality with no-rush that will increase productivity and the quality of
products and services, without losing the essence of spirit.
In the movie, Scent of a Woman, there's a scene where Al Pacino asks
Gabrielle Anwar to dance and she replies, "I can't, my boyfriend will be
here any minute now". To which Al responds, "A life is lived in an instant".
Then they dance to a tango. Many of us live our lives running behind time, but
we only reach it when we die of a heart attack or in a car accident
rushing to be on time. Others are so anxious of living the future that they forget
to live the present, which is the only time that truly exists. We all have
equal time throughout the world. No one has more or less. The difference lies in
how each one of us does with our time. We need to live each moment. As
John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making
other plans".
Congratulations for reading till the end of this message. There are many
who would have stopped in the middle so as not to waste time in this
globalized world. | | |
| by Ignacio K. Gonzalez
I open my eyes again.
You see, it’s been a habit of mine to close my eyes and take a nap just before the sun begins to set whenever I catch myself relaxing in the park. It’s not girly, I know, but it pleases me, so who cares. It’s fun to go to sleep with the sun up and waking up in total darkness. I like the suddenness of it all.
As I gather my senses together, I notice a young couple two benches away from mine being sweet as only young people could be sweet. The girl is probably about sixteen, and the guy around that age too. They look good together. They don’t seem to notice me, or maybe they choose not to notice me. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just eavesdrop on their conversation. I don’t have anything to do anyway.
They go on and on for minutes and minutes just looking at each other. No words spoken. Just looking at each other. The boy’s cute, he has this glow in his eyes making him seem intoxicated by the girl’s mere presence. Or maybe he really is; either way, how cheesy.
Oh, no. A dog’s coming near me. I hate dogs and how they seem to be the only creatures that notice me.
Well, at least now I have a reason to go nearer that cheesy couple. I listen intently, taking advantage of the fact that they seem to have vowed never to notice me at all.
“I have something to tell you,” whispers the boy apprehensively.
“What’s that?” replies the girl, probably knowing all the while exactly what the boy’s going to say.
“If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m really happy whenever I’m around you.”
“Uh huh. Is that it?” She acts as though she isn’t excited, but she fails miserably. She sits up, crosses her arms, tightens her grip on her jacket, blows her hair away from her eyes, blinks a bit, bites one side of her lip, and worst of all, blushes.
This is getting interesting.
“No, no. I just want to say, well, ever since I met you I began to have this funny urge inside me to just try to be with you all the time. Around you I’m relaxed, I’m happy. I forget about everything that bothers me; I feel that I can take anybody on. Around you I’m the best me that I can be!” he gushes.
How cheesy.
But what he said and the way he said it would make any girl fall for him. I know I would.
“Oh… well…” the girl stammers. She’s evidently stumped. This girl would never even get a glimpse of an Academy Award.
“You see, I think, well, actually, I know that I’m falling for you,” the boy says with a sheepish grin on his face. He’s hoping for a positive answer.
This is getting really interesting.
The girl gives no answer. Instead, she stands up and faces the boy. The boy stands up too. They stare at each other. I stare at them. They still don’t notice me. I still don’t care. The girl takes the boy by both hands and smiles.
“Ever since we met, I felt something inside of me yearning for you too. As early as that time, I already knew something about you was different. I wanted to find out what that was. I wanted to get close to you, and stay close to you. I wanted to hear all your stories. I wanted you to be a part of my life.”
How cheesy.
But come to think of it, that’s exactly what I would say in her place.
The boy tightens his grip on the girl’s hands.
They smile at each other. They smile so sincerely.
I smile too.
The girl let go of the boy’s hands. She spins around flirtatiously, giving him a look-at-me-and-fall-in-love-with-me-as-if-you-haven’t-already look. Despicable. And yet the boy looks at her eagerly, as if she were the most beautiful creature God had ever made. And perhaps she is. But I’m no judge of beauty. Well, I could say she looks like me, in all honesty, and anybody would agree with me—I’m quite pretty myself.
She stops after one spin and holds out her hand. The boy accedes to her request and reaches to put her hand in his, and the girl leads him under a tree not so far from where I’m sitting. I can still hear them by straining a bit.
Funny, that’s my favorite tree too.
Hand in hand, they look at each other. Again. This time with greater intensity, it seems. Salty water drips from the girl’s eyes.
“Why are you crying?” the boy asked.
“I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t want this day to end. I want to be like this forever, just me, and you, under the moonlight. The very thought that everything might change makes me sad.”
The boy chuckles amusedly, making the girl look at him in disbelief. The boy begins to sing, “I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow…”
He’s pitch perfect. He’d really make any girl fall for him. I know I would.
The girl looks straight into the boy’s eyes, gazing deep into his soul, probably trying to decipher whether he was singing the truth or not. She smiles and puts her arms around the boy, who puts his arms around the girl as well.
I feel the warmth.
Or maybe, the warmth I’m missing.
The girl extricates herself from the loveliest trap she’d willingly fall into many times over, and again spins around flirtatiously. The boy follows her with his eyes, taking mental pictures of each glorious moment to look back to in times when he’d be alone. He was smiling, ear to ear, smiling like he never had before.
He was in love.
Then, his smile turns into an expression of shock. His eyes grow wide. He shifts his weight to run forward. He reaches his hand out to empty air. He shouts. He shouts out her name.
He runs to her body, sprawled on the ground.
A few meters away, the previously speeding car brakes to a halt, making a screeching sound as though the car were mourning for what its driver had just done. The driver runs to the boy, who is in tears.
“Call for help! NOW!”
The driver runs to the nearest house, rings the doorbell, bangs on the gate, shouts, and is let in by the maid only after he pointed at the morbid scene unfolding on the street in front of the house.
I look away.
It occurred to me, this is torture.
It’s torture to haunt a memory.
A memory of a death.
A death that was your own.
| | |
| Aking Hinirang
salin mula sa The Queen ni Pablo Neruda
Hinirang kitang Reyna.
Sa mundo may tataas sa iyo, oo.
Sa mundo may higit na dalisay, tunay.
Sa mundo ang kariktan mo’y mapapantayan, mahihigitan.
Ngunit ikaw ang Reyna.
Dadaan ka sa kakapalan ng sangkatauhan,
tila wala sa iyong kumikilala.
Hindi nila nababatid ang koronang kristal,
ni ang alpombrang dugo ang kulay,
na sa bawat pagtapak mo’y naghihintay,
isang alpombrang sa guniguni namumuhay.
At sa oras na ikaw ay matanaw,
ang karagatan sa aking katawan
ay nabubulahaw, nag-uumapaw!
Sasakupin ng awit ang sansinukob,
awit ng korong sa puso ko’y nakapaloob.
Tanging ikaw at ako,
tanging ikaw at ako, hirang,
dinggin.
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