A Wonderful World Page 3

  Leaving The Herd

  Diary, May 8, 2014, Thursday

  I'm like a Volkswagen Beetle. I know, and all my friends and work colleagues know, that I'm very reliable. I'm sturdy, able to withstand the elements. Old school too, in my taste for music, movies, and I'm of those few remaining people on the planet who thinks that a quiet evening at home reading books is fun. Most of all, I have transcended fashion and will forever remain timeless.

  I'm also like a Ferrari in certain aspects, to take this car metaphor on the road. My mechanism is a bit delicate but full of power just waiting to fire up. You can't drive a Ferrari where even 4x4 SUVs fear to tread, in the same way that you can't put me in a situation where I don't want to, and then expect optimal performance. But given expert handling and maintenance, you'll see the difference from the herds in the highway.

  Every Day Wisdom From My Spiritual Mentor

  Diary, May 4 2014, Sunday

  It's really funny. Just when I've to the point where material acquisitions don't matter to me, I realized that buying a tablet is a good idea.

  What appeals to me is that I can watch, and take notes at my own leisure, the videos of my spiritual mentors like Wayne Dyer. I was tuned in again to Wayne's video Every Day Wisdom earlier.

  Forgiveness, he says, is an act of self love. You forgive those who hurt you not because you love them, but because you love yourself. It means you respect yourself too much to let negativity corrupt your being.

  Learning to let go is a way of honoring your being. If people judge you, it's a reflection of their character, not yours. A heart full of love cannot spread hatred. You can't get apple juice from an orange. You can only give what you have.

  Journey Through A Haunted Road

  Dream Journal, April 21, 2014, Monday

  The school corridor is like in the film Sixth Sense where Bruce and the boy were saying goodbye.

  I didn't see dead people, at least not on that scene.

  I was walking alone. Along came a girl I'll call Lucy, a coworker in my waking life. She came up from behind and walked rapidly ahead, obviously in a hurry.

  "Go," I told her, urging her. I was being sarcastic, thinking about certain people who are always in a hurry just to meet their perennially recycling daily errands, not having time for things that could mean a lot, like quality time with true friends.

  Lucy ran up the stairs. I went up leisurely, not following her nor interested where she's going. I went out. I didn't look at the building but I knew it was over a century old, like the 17th century University of Santo Tomas in Manila. The school grounds were empty. It looked like the Sunken Garden at the University of the Philippines, Diliman in Quezon City. On my left, around the corner corner of the building and out of my sight, I saw Lucy with some people I didn't care to meet. So I went to the right, strolling along the empty park-like campus grounds.

  It was night in another scene, I was on the countryside. I was walking along an unpaved trail like in the Filipino modern horror classic The Road. I came upon a police mobile on my left. There are people but they were shrouded in darkness. The pulsing lights were illuminating the place like a scene of a crime. I looked in front of me. A large part of the road was submerged in mud. I casually glided over it, half floating.

  In another scene, I was on top of a tall building. It was also night. I knew that behind me is a large sign of the construction company doing the edifice. I looked down. I was thinking that the building below on my right is where I currently work in my waking life. But it wasn't. It was on a pier. I can see the harbor behind it, wondering how deep those dark and placid waters must be. The sea was still, as if devoid of life. Her secrets will never be known.

  City of Immortals

  Dream Journal, April 26, 2014, Saturday

  I was in New Orleans, a place I loved and knew so well, and of course it was night.

  I was riding through Metairie at the back of a yellow cab, looking out as we passed one of the cemeteries which had stood for centuries.

  At the same time, I was on Bourbon Street at the French Quarter, in a laundry shop with coin-operated washing machines. The floor had black and white tiles, like a chess board with diamonds instead of squares. Outside the glass window is the usual sight of people in costumes for the Halloween. I knew that some of them are vampires.

  The driver and I were talking about how the place had remained unchanged for decades. I felt glad about it. "This is the city of immortals," I told him.

  I had teleported to my home town Antipolo. I would be there for a day, staying at the house where I spent part of my childhood. I was walking down the sloping Milagros Subdivision. I saw somebody from my youth walking up towards me, talking with a tall young man that I knew to be her son. I don't want them to see me so I made myself invisible. I camouflaged my aura as they passed without noticing me. I smiled wryly. I find it ironic that, since I had built a shield, I wasn't able to read their minds.

  Then I was already in downtown Antipolo, walking through the quiet residential areas near the famous church. I felt afraid that it would soon be conquered by squatters like Manila and Cebu. So I was there, deciding what I would have for dinner. I took a tricycle going home because I didn't want to be exposed to the public. I rode at the back of the driver. Then I told him to stop. I've forgotten that I had to get some food at the market first, also remembering that I need to buy earphones. The tricycle stopped. I was alone in the sidecar. "I knew you won't stay long," said a strange woman sitting at the back of the driver. She wasn't there before.

  Parkour vs Vampire

  Dream Journal, April 16, 2014, Wednesday

  I gazed up. I was standing under a complex geometrical structure that looked like a Lego train set. The sky above it was gray and it was getting dark. The hive-like thing was being built by my foster father who had died in my waking life almost five years ago. It's supposed to be a series of living quarters like condominium units connected by roller coaster walkways.

  I warned him it's dangerous because a strong earthquake is about to hit. I also pointed out to him that the exposed floors of these hanging rooms were made of thin wood. I sensed that the workers doesn't care about the stability. I knew it was doomed to collapse. I even acknowledged, in that dream state, how solid and reliable my intuition is. Even more significant, I wasn't afraid of the coming earthquake because I even declared what I've always known in my waking life: that no harm would ever come to me.

  Suddenly there was a commotion.

  I began to sense people coming out of the gathering darkness. They were in a panic. A bat-like creature was at one of the steel beams overhead. I chased the vampire without hesitation. I remember I was glad because I could practice my parkour skills which is my newest sport. I leaped up using the railings. The people were shouting that the vampire was about to fly away. As I felt I was about to teleport to a different scene, the ground started to shake.

  Missing My Lighthouse

  February 28, 2014, Friday

  Text message to a childhood friend

  I haven't been to my lighthouse in Nova Scotia in this lifetime yet. But I'll go to Cyprus first before Canada. That's still next year. Just when I'm preparing to travel further, a lot of people are telling me to settle down. "Oh my personal life is fine," I would say, hoping they'd get the hint. But they don't. Just this morning, a colleague, who keeps bugging me about my private affairs, seemed to want to run my life her way. The gall of these people, I thought. Why is it that the less they know, the more convinced they are that they know everything? "It's unfair," I told her, "because you're stressing yourself about my life when I'm not even thinking about yours!" I said that like a joke.

  Meeting My Fiance

  Dream Journal, February 26, 2014, Wednesday

  It was one of those telepathic dreams again. I was in a empty street.

  Across the grassy vacant lots to the next block, I can see the back of one of the houses I grew up in as a kid.

  A voice w
as telling me that my fiancé was waiting for me at the red front gate of our house. I saw in my mind she looked like stage actress and New Voice repertory founder Monique Wilson. I told Sue Storm of the Fantastic Four, who was beside me, to ask her to wait. I was about to go there when everything vanished.

  Then I was in a room. I went to the next where I heard the song Iisa Pa Lamang (There Is Still Only One) by Joey Albert. It's about having been involved in so many relationships then meeting someone whom you loved above them. There's a story there which I've forgotten because I had to rush out of bed when I woke up. But I remember scenes where I was eating spaghetti, and I was talking to an aunt who's now in a nursing home and a cousin who had died almost a decade ago.

  Sensing Mutants

  Dream Journal, February 28, 2014, Friday

  It seems I'm getting more psychic in my dreams. I haven't seen the future yet. Or maybe I did but didn't sense it. I'm not sure if I want to.

  I was trying to climb out of a hole that transformed into a bridge. I was hanging under it. I can sense the presence of mutants around me.

  In another scene, I was explaining the meaning of a ancient Chinese symbol.

  Then I was sitting in a chair that's inside a wooden box. I have been moving the box with my telekinetic powers, driving it in the street like an SUV. In a flash, I was running naked in the street, holding a large block of wood to cover my genitals. It was night. I ran under and alongside a flyover. The city was deserted.

  Dancing Like Dobson

  Dream Journal, February 21, 2014, Friday

  I dreamed I was standing in the yard of what looked like an abandoned or unfinished building. I was talking to a woman who seems to be drawing water from a pump or hanging clothes out to dry.

  Her aura is blurred and I don't know who she was.

  The building is unpainted, just gray from the cement plastered on the concrete hollow blocks. On a large hole on the wall which had been a window, I saw a cousin-in-law. I was glad to see her because we're close and I miss decent conversations.

  In a blink, I was standing in a bright living room full of stuffed toys and colorful decor. I saw my cousin-in-law look go into the kitchen alcove to my right. On the sofa in front of me is someone from my present work whom I had an issue with last week because of the way she was showing how unworthy she is of her position.

  I have a solid track record of defying authority. But I'm always civilized, even in my dreams. I was telling her that I like the place because it's large. I even danced like Peter Dobson in Sing.

  Dreaming Bill Clinton

  Dream Journal, January 1, 2014, Wednesday

  I dreamed about Bill Clinton. We were in a large room. It's not the White House: more like Bruce Wayne's mansion.

  I was sitting in a backless divan, wearing a tux.

  Clinton was standing in front of me carrying a little boy.

  It's just the three of us. Outside the closed door, a party was about to start. The boy's left shoe fell off; a light-colored sneaker-type scandal. I picked it up and put it on him.

  I jumped.

  I was walking down the upper middle class subdivision where I spent part of my puberty. I was on the way to the chapel. I had to go there everyday so I couldn't come to the family reunion with the two branches of my second cousins. Inside the chapel was a film-making workshop. A couple of guys were shooting an MTV.

  "I could have done that better!" I remember specifically saying that.

  I jumped. I was on a small hill. It was daylight.

  On the clearing below, I saw a childhood friend, Jerry, calling out to me. He was in front of a large cabin.

  I jumped. I'm inside an abandoned building. It seemed to have burned down a long time ago but it's still standing. In the middle of the floor was a large hole.

  I looked down.

  Chapter III. 2013

  The Legend of Hilot

  One super intriguing phenomenon that I personally witnessed is usog, a Filipino term which means when one can literally make another person sick by his mere presence.

  Traditionally, if you brought usog to someone, you have to wipe your saliva to a part of his body, usually his navel or sole.

  Hilot healer Efren Guazon, guest at the December 19, 2012 episode of Inner Mind, revealed the mystery: usog is essentially the loss of the chi, or life energy.

  The saliva from the person who caused it helps restore the life energy.

  A practitioner of hilot, the ancient art of healing indigenous to the Bondoc and other northern tribes in the Philippines, has to develop his consciousness to move up the seven levels of training: from chiropractic-like massage therapy to being able to heal victims of witchcraft.

  The seven levels of training corresponds to the seven lundayan ng kusog (channels of energy). Hilot integrates the body's mulangkap (elements): fire, water, earth, air and the alangaan (etheric).

  Efren is the president of the Alyansa ng Mga Manghihilot at Albularyo, a nation-wide organization of hilot healers. Inner Mind host Jimmy Licauco tells about the story of American musician Jeff Cohen, whose brother was in a car accident and Western doctors cannot help him. Efren knows him and also the healer in the mountains of Bondoc, Apo Pakukad, the only person in the world who brought back his brother to full recovery.

  This Is True Freedom

  I meditate. I do yoga. I believe in reincarnation. I talk to plants. I can be telepathic sometimes. I bond instantly with decent and broadminded people. On the other hand, back-fighters and power-trippers hate me. I'm happy even in solitude. I don't feel the need for other people's approval to validate my worth. I measure a person only by his character, never his resume. I know a good man when I see one. I can let go and move on. I'm not afraid to say goodbye. I'm not afraid to be different. I never pretended to be "normal."

  But I'll be damned if I apologize for being who I am.

  Songs From The Sountrack of My Life

  My digital voice recorder is dead again after I had it fixed for the second time. The first was in 2012 in Baclaran and the second was last July 2013 in Cebu. This was the replacement for the original one I bought from CDR-King on October 2011 in SM Manila. The original died just a few days after I bought it. Since it was still under warranty, I gave it back for repair. They said 3 weeks but it took almost 3 months. Lesson: Never buy from CDR-King.

  I found a technician who fixed my MP3, which I bought two years ago when I used to be a correspondent for a newspaper. I got my MP3 going again, yehey! I chose the selections from from my friend Manuel who works in a download and cell phone repair shop in Baclaran, Parañaque.

  I will just name here simply six: "Longer" by Dan Fogelberg, "Danny's Song" by Kenny Loggins, "Fire and Rain" by James Taylor, "Annie's Song" by John Denver, "Is It Okay If I Call You Mine" by Paul McCrane and "What Matters Most" by Kenny Rankin. There's a lot of Gary V. and The Beatles and a lot more, including "What A Feeling" by Irene Cara which I played during my Sunday morning runs at the CCP complex when I was still in Manila. Good times. Good memories.

  My Simply Six

  I find serenity in living simply. I avoid information overload with my Simply Six. I've divided my life into 6 major areas, like "sports" and "writing" (which includes updating my blog when I go online to e-mail my articles to publications). I also have quiet time for myself, like when I curl up with a book while shutting out the rest of the world. Or when I when I'm up in a mountain or under the sea, or when I just want to watch the sunset. Then I have what I can describe as "discretionary time" for stuff with practical applications in my life to avoid tunnel vision, like when I try out new ideas. Now that I know my priorities, paradoxically it's easier to find time for my girlfriend, close friends and relatives. Anything outside is a waste of time.

  My Ideal Day

  My ideal day is waking up at dawn, looking forward to the day knowing I will make a difference. Then going to bed at night with a clear conscience and a sense of fulfillment from seeing that my day has been producti
ve. And in between, just following my passions and not being forced to do things that I don't like. I want to be away from things that don't matter to me. This is what I want my life to be- every single day of my life.

  The Freedom To Wear Jeans and Sneakers

  As long as you're neat and presentable, what you wear has nothing to do with your competence. It's understandable that food chain crews wear uniforms.

  But it is ironic and demotivating to be in an American call center that forces its employees to obey a dress code. This rule comes from a narrow-minded Filipino management that wants its ranks filled with conformists.

  Only primitive minds think that jeans and sneakers make you less professional.

  Charm, Like Happiness, Is A Choice

  I'm experimenting on subliminal dynamics so I needed a cassette tape recorder. I squeezed some time to buy the cheapest China-made model from the appliance section of SM Southmall on Jan. 20, 2013. I was in a hurry so I never bothered to test it. Back home, it didn't work. I had to waste more time and cancel some planned activities to return and get a replacement. It was frustrating but I'm happy and really proud to say that I got one without acting like a self-righteous jerk, demeaning other people in public. I'm not like that and it doesn't help any. I even got rapport with the merchandiser and flirted with the customer service girl. I want people to be nice to me so I'm nice to them. It's called...CHARM