YELLOW PAD: Humanity's Team Philippines Newsletter NOVEMBER 2008
YELLOW PAD NEWSBYTES
Dear Reader, Last October 2007, I asked Tato Malay to facilitate our CWG-Baguio City study group. It was easy to get like-minded people to come as anything is easy as long as your intention is clear. Everything falls into place. Life is so wonderful as we help change people's lives for the better!
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WHAT'S MORE IN YELLOW PAD:
- COLUMN: Who's Talking To Me?
- About The Man at The Bus Stop
- Superficial Politeness vs. Genuine Respect
- Books Changed The Course of My Life
- My First Year as a Mom
- POEM: Beholding Beauty
WHO'S TALKING TO ME?
by Jim Sarthou Cavite City
Transcribed by Sandra Alzona
When I was 4, 5 years old, I was in my cousin's swimming pool with some 13 others jumping and splashing around. All of a sudden, we were at the deep end. Deep to us was 4 to 5 feet. My nanny was watching us, especially me since I was the youngest among us. Next thing I knew, I was underwater and drowning. My eyes remained open, and everything turned into gold. I watched the golden bubbles rise from my mouth and nose. Then I felt somebody pulling my long, curly hair. It was the nanny pulling me out of the water. The rest of the kids were out of the pool, watching in fear as to what might happen to me. I was later told that I was smiling.
I didn't pray to any god to save me. When I was a kid, I was too young to even "believe" in a god. I feel this to be what Christ meant by the faith of a child that would allow one to see his kingdom. It is a non-faith. I carry that to this day, calling myself an atheist simply because god is too great to be limited by a definition, description or belief, especially belief. I always felt close to the undefinable "god". We were friends and enemies – just like brothers. But I was never the religious type. I hated going to church to hear mass and praying the rosary every night with the whole family. Instead, I talked to my friend, god, alone, although earlier on he never answered me with a voice, so I felt like I was talking to myself, or that god was inside me somewhere. My favorite saying is: "God made me an atheist – who are YOU to question his wisdom?"
When I was 7 or 8 years old, I tried to look for god in the same manner that I would look for my toys because I often ended up losing them for being careless. There was a time when I I lost my birthday gift, a toy sword, and told god, "Let me find that sword!" I repeated this request maybe a thousand times in one day, then gave up. So in my search for god one sunny afternon, I was momentarily attracted to the beauty of the light shining through the leaves of a small tree. I was mesmerized by the leaves and gazed between the leaves. In a flash, everything disappeared, including myself. I felt my consciousness disappeared. I don't know how long this lasted. I "came to" when I heard my sisters laughing and checking what I was staring at. I couldn't explain it to them, but I wanted to tell them that I saw god!
Of course, I did not see god because there was nothing to see. I think for a moment there was no "I" seeing anything either. I was awake the whole time, and not at all afraid. I was too young to know peace or agape or bliss or any of those words to describe these states of mind, but in that moment I was drowning in all of that. Much later in life, I realized that what I experienced as I was staring at those leaves was the whole meaning of "I Am". I was simply "Being". Pure and simple yet profound at such a tender age.
I've been vegan as a kid. I was born vegan (lacto-ovo) and I was the only one in the family with this diet. My dad made fun of me all the time. I didn't know what being a vegan was about, and I felt abnormal about it until I was 14 years old. While reading an LP, I found somebody described as "vegetarian" in the list of names. That was the first time I encountered such a thing. I began my own research. I later discovered how Buddhism was natural to me and that the real meaning of being vegetarian was not eating flesh. When I remembered how I did yoga-like stunts when I was a child, I thought that, most likely, all this came from a past life, and that there was such a thing as reincarnation. After getting acquainted with all sorts of belief systems such as Hinduism, Buddhism, and how different they were from Christianity, I began to be aware of just how different my path had really been. During the hippie culture in the 70's, I strongly felt the drug era as a teenager, and I could've said that I've been there and done that, but I knew the difference between a hallucination under the influence and a natural spiritual experience. Drugs, LSD in particular, produce hallucinations but not genuine spiritual experiences. On the other hand, true spiritual experiences, mine at least, happened without drugs. In fact, I was the type who couldn't have had those experiences on drugs.
I remember sitting on my sister's bed one lazy afternoon. Nobody was home, no drugs, and I was bored. I fell into a nap, and had a dream:
I'm in a monastery high up the mountains. The feeling is that I've been here for weeks. Poor monks leave their broken sandals at the door to go into the meditation hall. How they have to work so hard all day following a rigorous schedule. But they are happy - or at least do not complain! The food is so plain, just porridge rice of some sort and tea - for days on end!
I want to talk to the head, an abbott, but I seldom have the chance. He is always in his quarters and not to be disturbed. Or he is leading the meditations, which I don't attend. I am an unknown guest there anyway. I decide to tell the abbott what I feel and think.
"Why is it like this here?" I ask. "You are all like prisoners here in this monastery!"
Smiling, he says, "Yes, we may all seem like prisoners here, but our spirit is free. Whereas you... are a prisoner in your mind!"
I float upward while he keeps his eyes on me and waves me a farewell. I float way, way up and could see the whole monastery sitting atop a very high mountain. Soon I was so high up that the monastery dissolves into the mountain. Everything vanishes!
When I opened my eyes, I found myself sitting on the same spot. I checked the time. I was dreaming for barely 5 minutes and sweating profusely. I understood what the abbott said. I was a prisoner in my own mind, and I was shown the possibility of being free, which is our true nature. It gave me hope.
While living alone in the '70s, I'd often ponder the difficult conflict of the varying human personilities. How the heck can we live in harmony when people have so many different, mostly opposing, personalities? I was not meditating, not praying, but in my mind I got an answer: "There is a little bit of you in everyone and a little bit of everyone in you."
One of the most profound messages I received of this kind was in answer to a paradigm that still bothers me: Did I create this world I live in? Was it created for me? Am I the only one really exising in this life, while everyone else are playing a part my whole "movie" or "stage play" just for me? Then I got one of the most puzzling messages: "When you were born, everything was born, and when you die, everything will die!"
That scares me to this day, but it spawned a variety of interpretations from "solipsism" to simply meaning that I create my reality as everybody else does. This makes more sense to me today, after having discovered New Thought and create-your-own-reality schools.
I had a band called Aunt Irma. We became very popular in the 70's, especially with the girls! Except for Ramon "RJ" Jacinto's FM radio station, DZRJ, nobody wanted to play us, and recording companies shooed us away. We haplessly fell in the category of underground and independent for being a band of English-speaking Ateneans and La Sallites who cannot create good Tagalog songs for the majority. We were lucky that RJ had a special program for bands like ours. We were a tight band, and soon had a sizeable cult following. We rehearsed often until we could play with our eyes closed. We were very disciplined with all agreeing not to do drugs during rehearsals and before a major gig. One of our gigs was at the University of the East at a concert that was to introduce Rico J. Puno, then a new singer. He even borrowed my guitar for his performance.
Since we were well-rehearsed and I was so relaxed, I closed my eyes. Even with my eyes closed, I could see the whole auditorium awash with a golden hue similar to what I experienced underwater when I was a child drowning in the swimming pool. I was free to move around, too. I watched my left hand play the chords correctly on the guitar, while my left hand plucked the strings. Then I saw myself. I was singing the right words with the perfect tune.
I was free! Then I remembered what the abbot told me in the dream. Still with my eyes closed, I imagined moving around the stage. The other members of Aunt Irma performed flawlessly until, ooops! Somebody made a slight mistake! I was whisked swiftly back to my body, then I, too, made a slight mistake. The audience, however, didn't seem to notice, or hardly cared, especially the girls, who were literally swooning.
What a glorious experience THAT was!
Jim is a top audio engineer in the Philippines and remembers the best times as a member of classic rock indie band Aunt Irma. You are reading Jim's new regular column here on the Humanity's Team Philippines newsletter. He would rather talk about this, so he meets up with Sandra to talk and for her to put it together in this form.
About The Man at The Bus Stop
by Rye Bautista
Hong Kong
He's probably in his mid-50's, about 5 feet, 5 inches in height, and a bit plump. He has grey hair, wrinkled skin, and walks with forced agility. His speech is still perceptible, but his hearing seems to be impaired. His clothes are somewhat threadbare, and his shoes a bit worn. Tim and I found him a tearjerker the first time we saw him at the E31 bus stop in Tsuen Wan. He sustains himself by begging for loose change. 6 dollars, to be exact.
We got to the bus stop unmindful of the world around us, busy ranting about our own jobs, then a man, that man, presented himself to us. He spoke in Cantonese, and, without thinking, Tim reached for his wallet. Seeing that and how the man opened his palm, which revealed $4.00, I was certain he was begging for alms. I felt a prick in my heart. How dare I complain about my job when there were people in need of one but don't have any? The beggar walked away, limping.
But everytime you are in that bus stop at any time of the day, he is there asking every single person for $6.00. I felt that there was enough reason to feel cheated. Pissed. Betrayed, even. At times, I imagine that the mere sight of him from 6 meters away is enough to bring out the bitch in you, and make you come up with something mean to say to him in 5 seconds or less, or at least something mean you wish you could say to him and to people like him who take advantage of the innate compassionate nature of human beings. He lives in a first world city, for god's sake, where opportunities are limitless; where the law prohibits age limit for service crew members in food chains; where people with disabilities keep themselves productive and employed by sitting at the doorstep of malls with counters in their hands to keep track of the number of people come in from opening to closing; where, in Wan Chai, the barter system had been modernized, and one can get money coupons for any kind of service rendered to the community to afford anything from rice to bags; where, in business districts, corporate employees get in the queue on their lunch breaks to have their shoes polished by shoeshine men and women on the sidewalk, their only tools being 2 stools, shoe brushes and 2 cans of Kiwi (black and brown); where the less-fortunate can carry a portable sound system in the subway to sing there, and they may collect loose change without being bothered by the cops so long as they are not a nuisance to the pedestrians. Is there seriously nothing he can do but ask for $6.00 from people at that particular bus stop? Come on!
So tonight as I was walking to the bus stop, my eyes rolled instantly as I spotted him sitting at the bank entrance near his workplace. I got in the queue and, as expected, he was asking everyone for alms. Everybody must have seen him more than once before because nobody bothered to listen to what he was saying. The shrug everybody gave as he approached each one of us seemed perfunctory to me. Then came a man, much taller, much more plump and a bit younger-looking than he, who decided to wait at the end of the line. The beggar delivered his line in Cantonese and the other man, after listening to him seemingly intently, declined to help. Mr. Beggar tried to push his luck a bit further, then a bit further still until Mr. Taller was at the end of his tether. He yelled at the beggar and shoved him away from the queue. He humiliated the beggar mercilessly, while everyone seemed pleased with what he did. That is, everyone but me.
Shortly after, the E31 bus arrived, and we got on it. As I took the window seat, I could see the flushed beggar sitting with his head down on the sidewalk, and all I felt was anger. I was angry at his family. I was angry at his friends. Where were they? Why did he need to be a parasite to the whole community and not helped by his family and friends? What could he have done that brought him to the bus stop? And what was it that he needed to ask for six dollars too many?
Turning my head away from the other passengers to conceal my face, I looked out the window, then shed a tear. Someday, somewhere, I, too, will need help. It scares me that when that time comes, I will need more than six dollars. Or even more than hundreds or thousands of six dollars. I could only hope that, right now, while I still can, I am able to do enough good to the world to deserve to be treated better than the way they treated the man at the bus stop.
Hold me, like the river jordan
And I will then say to thee
You're my friend
Carry me, like you are my brother
Love me like a mother
Will you be there
Weary, tell me will you hold me
When wrong, will you hold me
When lost will you find me?
But they told me a man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end but I'm only human...
...In our darkest hour in my deepest despair
Will you still care? Will you be there?
In my trials and my tribulations
Through our doubts and frustrations
In my violence and my turbulence
Through my fear and my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow...
- Free Willy Song
Michael Jackson
And I will then say to thee
You're my friend
Carry me, like you are my brother
Love me like a mother
Will you be there
Weary, tell me will you hold me
When wrong, will you hold me
When lost will you find me?
But they told me a man should be faithful
And walk when not able
And fight till the end but I'm only human...
...In our darkest hour in my deepest despair
Will you still care? Will you be there?
In my trials and my tribulations
Through our doubts and frustrations
In my violence and my turbulence
Through my fear and my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow...
- Free Willy Song
Michael Jackson
Superficial POLITENESS v.s. Genuine RESPECT
Manila
I noticed that most people, especially the older ones, expect, demand and thirst for respect. But what they get is mere superficial politeness. The old people want reverence for their supposed wisdom and experience, the younger working class wants recognition and admiration by putting titles such as Atty., Dr. or Father on their names, and the girls want to be treated like ladies by gentlemen boys. People are easily flattered by the superficial politeness thrown at them. They tend to put more value points on those who are polite, no matter how trashy or evil they really are. They are not sharp enough to see the real perception of the polite person. More often than not, the person addressing them as Ma'am or Sir don't really respect them. They might even hate and curse the person they are being polite with. The gentleman suitor may just want to go to bed with the girl, so he treats her like jewel for now. But wait till he gets his piece of cake. Or, maybe, the suitor is a gentleman because he wants to be admired by the girl, and that's the only quality he can be proud of, being a gentleman! For all we know, he is some insecure loser who desperately needs a girlfriend. Politeness is closer to diplomacy. The diplomats are trained to say a lot of nice things without really meaning them. They are trained to talk for hours without saying anything at all. Politeness may be a good thing if not overused and overrated. It may prevent chaos or violence when used properly. But politeness has been one of the most overrated quality in a person. It even surpassed the value of caliber, genuineness, sincerity, kindness, and goodness in their higher sense.
I hope that people will eventually learn to distinguish superficial politeness from genuine respect, and we all aim to give and receive the latter. I also hope that we will see and feel geniune respect even without the superficial politeness displayed.
Intsik Siomai would really rather go by the alias.
LOVE
LOVE
Books Changed The Course of My Lifeby Tato Malay
Baguio City
Let me start by sharing that I never took my studies seriously in my elementary, high school and college years. All that was required of me by my parents was a diploma. I did the worst to ensure my graduation. I befriended my teachers, bribed my classmates to do my home work, or simply failed some subjects and took them up again.
When I finally graduated from college, I applied for jobs at different companies, but I was not accepted because I failed the IQ tests.
It dawned on me that I hardly learned anything from school. The few things I did learn could not even help me get a decent job. I felt sort of depressed and decided to do something about my life.
I started reading my old textbooks, thinking that I could make up for lost time. Then I met an old friend who graduated summa cum laude from a prestigious school. I told him how lucky he was to have a good job, and how miserable my case. What he told me completely changed my life.
He said that I was luckier because he had a hard time unlearning most of the things he learned from school, and here I was with nothing to unlearn. I felt insulted, but he continued and suggested that I could read and study the newest books and learn the latest concepts that were relevant to this day and age without having to struggle with unlearning deeply embedded, outmoded beliefs like he had experienced.
From that day on I made the bookstores my library and searched for information that would provide me with the new knowledge I needed to become successful. I read and bought as many as 15 books a month by authors like John Naisbit, Deepak Chopra, Robert Kiyosaki, Wayne Dyer, Ernest Holmes, Marilyn Ferguson, Stephen Covey, Alvin Toffler and Anthony Robbins. I practiced whatever lessons I learned from them.
I simply learned how to learn, and I got myself into a life-long learning process.
I remember visiting a friend in his office, where I met and conversed with his boss, the owner of the company. To my friend’s surprise, I was hired to manage a big department in their company. I became too successful at the job and was offered free travels abroad, a new car and a fat salary. Months later, I was pirated by another company. I never had to apply for a job from then on. I’d resign from one company and immediately be offered a position by a competing company.
Skills on relationships
By studying modern books, I was able to develop two intelligences that I had taken for granted in my early years. I honed my interpersonal and intrapersonal skills in the process. The books I read were mostly about relationships and knowing about oneself.
I had been transformed into a better person without my realizing it. When low moments came into my life, I motivated and talked myself out of those situations and came out a winner. I had created a new level of consciousness in me. Whatever I wanted, I was able to manifest easily in my life. I discovered new principles and ways of thinking that were very powerful. Had I learned these principles when I was still a student, I could have radically changed the course of my life much earlier.
I discovered that I could train my right brain, which dealt with creativity, emotions and the unknown. Eventually, I learned to use also my neglected left brain, which dealt with logic, mathematics and facts, exactly what I needed when I was in school.
Our educational system could become transformational by teaching whole-brain thinking. In this period of great change due to technological advancements, a new way of thinking brought about by holistic education or education of the whole person is needed to survive.
This is where I think my Kamalayan (Consciousness) Library Café will be able to help. I’ve put up this library café in Baguio City where I now live.
Why a library? I have hundreds of books that I’ve collected through the years and I want to share them with others. I could have sold or given them away, but I didn’t because I realized I’ve become successful in my different careers from reading these books.
People have signed up for membership in my cafe where many of the books should be required reading not only for students but also for teachers. We can transform culture through education only if the teachers themselves are transformed first.
A new world will emerge if we change the content of our children’s education.
Tato Malay, a broadcaster and recording company executive for many years, is a founding member of the Creative Media and Professionals Guild of Asia and the Pacific which shares and generates experiential and higher learning to advance the careers of media professionals. His Kamalayan Library Café is inside North Haven Spa, 21 Avelino Street, Baguio City.
LOVE
Luzie, baby Drakie and Sean
My First Year As A Mom LOVEby Luzie SlatteryLOVE California, USALuzie, former OPM Manager of Sony Music Philippines, is inspired by and preoccupied with her baby's every step. She delights in friends who are going through the same thing as new moms.
Beholding Beauty
by Glenn Ala
lOVE
Quezon City
LOVE
In a voiceless whisper
You called to me and
Lured my soul
To come and draw near.
You held my hand and
Brought me close
To unfelt bliss,
Unknown ecstasy.
I opened my eyes and
Saw what was before me,
Standing there
Elegantly,
Splendidly,
In form, most pure,
Most delicate:
Beauty.
Your face, asymmetrical
Yet poised, confounded me,
Held my eyes captive
And possessed me.
As I gazed at your face,
The lovely folds
Glowed in the
Mild morning sun,
Shimmered and
Broke into a thousand
Different hues,
Into a musical canvas
Of tone and brilliance
Waking my imagination.
Unlike any I have felt
Or touched, your skin,
Soft and supple,
Beckoned me to caress
Your body. Then,
As in a trance, I let
My hand glide over
Your entirety.
Oh, beauty!
Dazed from your sweet
Subtle scent, my mind
Wandered through eternity,
To a dream of beauty
Divine and ethereal.
To have lived and fought
And not felt such freedom,
To have gone and sought
And not found such splendor,
To have walked the earth
And never seen such majesty
Is to me like sin
Against such beauty.
Glenn wrote this poem in the late 90's as an ode to Philippine flora. A journalist, poet, linguist, actor, singer, songwriter, percussionist-in-training, guitarist-in-training, sports lover, traveler, videographer, photographer and event director, all Glenn really wants to do now is find love.
You called to me and
Lured my soul
To come and draw near.
You held my hand and
Brought me close
To unfelt bliss,
Unknown ecstasy.
I opened my eyes and
Saw what was before me,
Standing there
Elegantly,
Splendidly,
In form, most pure,
Most delicate:
Beauty.
Your face, asymmetrical
Yet poised, confounded me,
Held my eyes captive
And possessed me.
As I gazed at your face,
The lovely folds
Glowed in the
Mild morning sun,
Shimmered and
Broke into a thousand
Different hues,
Into a musical canvas
Of tone and brilliance
Waking my imagination.
Unlike any I have felt
Or touched, your skin,
Soft and supple,
Beckoned me to caress
Your body. Then,
As in a trance, I let
My hand glide over
Your entirety.
Oh, beauty!
Dazed from your sweet
Subtle scent, my mind
Wandered through eternity,
To a dream of beauty
Divine and ethereal.
To have lived and fought
And not felt such freedom,
To have gone and sought
And not found such splendor,
To have walked the earth
And never seen such majesty
Is to me like sin
Against such beauty.
Glenn wrote this poem in the late 90's as an ode to Philippine flora. A journalist, poet, linguist, actor, singer, songwriter, percussionist-in-training, guitarist-in-training, sports lover, traveler, videographer, photographer and event director, all Glenn really wants to do now is find love.
