Writing on Air

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated May 13, 2012 12:00 AM

I have been wanting to write about money since it is the one thing we all deal with in our lives. We all have a relationship with money.

Money, as the song goes, makes the world go around. Money, as the saying goes, is also the root of all evil. Money changes everything, says Cyndi Lauper. If you look for quotes about money on the Internet, you will find a lot, and most of them, per many people’s experience, are quite true.

When I was growing up, I had very little money. My baon for school was barely enough for a complete meal and a soda, and I had to save enough for the bus ride home. But I didn’t feel deprived. Not at all. The world was simpler then. Many things were free. We did not have to buy bottled water. Gasoline was dirt cheap. We spent nothing to make phone calls. A date with your college girlfriend was simple and inexpensive. And Quezon City where we lived was so uncongested I did not mind taking long walks and enjoying the open space and fresh air. And so I saved money on bus fare.

In today’s world, it’s hard to imagine life without money. Everything costs a lot more today than 40 years ago. And aside from what you can’t live without — food, shelter, water, electricity, medicine, transportation — everywhere you turn, commerce has something tantalizing to sell to you that you’re supposed to need.

With many people feeling they have little money to spare even for the basic stuff, life has indeed become a pressure cooker. You struggle to stay afloat in a sea of expenses. And as you watch the affluent spend money with ease and with nary a care, you could feel shut out of the so-called best things that life can offer.

I know many people for whom the main (and almost sole) aim in life is the accumulation of wealth. They claim that they are doing what they can to save money for a better future for themselves and their families. So they work very hard while they deprive themselves of many comforts they could actually opt to have, just to save money.

I am kind of like that, but to a lesser degree. I work really hard at what I commit to. In good or bad times, I can manage to live quite simply and frugally, more or less. I am not a slave of fashion and do not feel compelled to go with the crowd on many things. I enjoy eating in cheap restaurants, and I do not mind buying pre-owned stuff. This perhaps comes from my middle-class upbringing and growing up in a big family where I had to wear hand-me-downs.

Once in a while, I spend on something expensive like a laptop, a camera or some new gadget. But when I do, I know I will get my money back since I use what I buy to make money, or at least to pay for what I spent on it. I fret when I have little cash, not so much because I fear hardship for myself but more because I do not want my family to be inconvenienced.

I once had a student in one of my workshops who told us he had lost about P100 million in a business venture and he was now down to his last P60 million. The other participants with way humbler means listened in utter disbelief. Was he telling us that he is now “poor” with just his “last” P60 million left? That brought us to the realization about money and wealth — that wealth and abundance are not fixed sums. Abundance is our attitude about what we have. To the very rich, a million pesos is nothing. To most people, it is a big deal. And yes, it takes a truly wise and evolved person to know how much money is “enough.”

In raising my kids, I always made sure they accounted for every centavo of change when I asked them to buy something. It was not as much a lesson in accounting as it was in honesty. I wanted them to learn that money is not something to be casual about. And stealing is a no-no under any circumstance. Whether you steal five centavos or P5 million, it is stealing.

No matter how many times I have heard stories about how people’s lives turned miserable after winning big in the lotto, I still want to win loads of money since I “know” (like everyone else it seems) that I will handle things differently if I win. I will be generous and share it with family and friends. I will donate to charity. I will help the poor. I will donate to the needy.

It’s so easy to make promises when the money is not there yet. But I have asked myself many times, if I ever actually happened to win the lotto, how many of the promises I have made myself will I actually keep? Will I feel “deprived” giving a portion of my wealth away? Will I have anxieties about being generous?

Money issues, according to chakra teacher Carolyn Myss, can hit us physically in our gut and genital area. When we worry about money, we feel it in those low chakras where survival concerns are dealt with. Watch how your tummy tightens when you think of money problems. We can’t begin to go up and cultivate the higher chakras if pressing matters are unresolved down below.

Our attitude towards money says a lot about us. I have met many people who discovered the “true” character of otherwise “decent” people after arguments and differences about money. For many, money is the test. People have cheated, lied and killed for money. Presidents, chief justices, judges, businessmen, holy men, etc. are subjected to the test not just once but many times. And yes, a great many of them have failed.

We like to say that money can’t buy happiness and proof of that is there are many poor people who are generally happier than the rich. That could be true. But with money, one has a choice to suffer the misery of one’s choosing — drugs, sex, gambling or any addiction one fancies. And when you are through messing up, you have the money to clean up the mess. There are those who believe that even the miserable state of one’s spirit can be rescued if you have money. There’s rehab, and once you are “fixed,” you can enjoy your money better.

I am constantly reminding myself that when you get down to it, money is simply a form of energy. It can’t be left unused for long, otherwise, it dissipates. Money must be spent, and while many will advise that it must be spent to make more of it, I think that it should also be spent for something as simple as “joy.” There is the joy of family bonding, the joy of travel, the joy of learning, the joy of indulging in a passion. Choose your joy. One need not quantify or account for these expenses scrupulously since, in truth, they are worth more than we realize.

Money is good for many things but not for all. And one must be wise to know when it serves us well and when it doesn’t. The sooner we develop a right attitude towards money, the better we will be. I read a quote on the net from an unknown source which goes, “If a person gets his attitude toward money straight, it will help straighten out almost every other area in his life.”

Many make the mistake of going for money as an end in itself. Mark wrote in the gospel, “For what does it profit a man if he gained the world but loses his soul?” Indeed.

A more effective quote that sobers me up is from a robber’s common spiel which goes, “Your money, or your life?” We must always be aware when the choice has gone down to this, and know how to choose.

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated May 06, 2012

Illustration by REY RIVERA

The Dalai Lama preaches compassion. So does Jesus. And so do many other spiritual teachers. Mostly, they speak of a universal love or compassion for humanity which, in the Dalai Lama’s case, involves every sentient being on earth.

As much as I have tried to consciously cultivate a spiritual practice along those lines, I do not know if I can ever love ALL of humanity. Sure, it is easy to love certain people, especially if they are easy to love, for whatever reason. They could be good- looking, pleasant, affable, or they could fit into certain stereotypes that appeal to our collective cultural psyche that makes them loveable.

It is a fact that not everyone is lovable, or at least not that easily lovable. Some people may appear obnoxious or despicable in our eyes, and some may just be too culturally different. The wide swathe that separates us may be too wide. It could be a religious, racial or social divide that makes rapport close to impossible. The best that can happen is a polite ignoring of each other.

What has always interested me is how people can bridge this gap so that there is more communication, rapport, and perhaps, eventually, an openness to greater compassion.

There’s just too much misunderstanding, distrust, and fear in this world so I try my best not to contribute to heightening it further. Or at least, I try to be conscious enough to remind myself to temper the negativity.

I want to share with you my experience with strangers. I am generally open to strangers. To me, it’s a conscious step towards more compassion.

I have mostly had good, pleasant experiences with strangers. A number of times I have found myself in inconvenient situations where I needed to reach out and ask for help from people I did not know and I am amazed and grateful at how helpful many of them have been.

People have stopped in the rain to help me push a stalled car. In foreign places, strangers have pointed me to the right train or street, the better store with the better bargain. Once, on a bus in Brussels, passengers actually shelled out money when my group and I did not have the local currency to pay for our fare.

More often than not, you can have a decent conversation (at times, even an interesting one) with a total stranger you meet in an airport, a train station or anywhere else. I recently had an eight-hour stopover in Kuala Lumpur and found myself not running out of stories chatting with a man I had just met. We talked about issues that were important to us, our children and spouses, and life in general. By the time we boarded the plane, it felt like we’d been friends for a while.

It is quite easy for us to open up to people we do not know. For one, we have no shared history. We have no past to refer to and that is good. The past is often the place where we have formed judgments, opinions, and biases about people we know. And these limit our appreciation of who they are or could be. Whatever we hear or see about persons we already know is filtered through our set impressions of them.

Maybe it’s because we are not comfortable with surprises or we do not want to be disappointed, or be proven wrong in our judgments. We want a predictable world of relationships and so we feel safe putting people in pigeonholes. Fairly or unfairly, everyone is reduced to a judgment. In our eyes, for example, anyone who has committed a hideous crime like rape or murder will always be a rapist and a murderer. They will never live that down no matter how much they may have repented and have tried to turn a new leaf. Our “common sense” tells us that it is only a matter of time before they do it again.

Sometime ago, I read an essay on pornography and the writer said that that the big no-no about porn is not the sex. Sex is a big deal in our being human and almost everyone likes sex. The obscenity about porn is that it distorts reality by reducing it to just one thing. Pornography is ONLY about sexual prurience. There are no real multi-dimensional people making love in porn. There are just body parts, sex organs pleasuring each other. In many ways, one can say that the reduction of the totality and complexity of a person to an act, a characteristic, or an event he may have been involved in comes close to pornography. Don’t you agree?

On three occasions, I have invited complete strangers to my house for dinner. I invited people I did not know through the Internet to share a “night of passion” over dinner and conversation. I always had a great time. Each one of my guests was interesting and had something to share. This exercise has only strengthened my belief that when we bravely open ourselves up, the world decompresses and unravels with all of its gifts and surprises. The good, interesting people show up.

By the same token, I am quite amused when people who have been following me for a long time as a public person are surprised when I sit down with them and we chat extensively. I am taken aback when they say that they are surprised how easy I am to talk to, just like any regular guy. And they say this about almost every famous person they meet and share a moment with.

But isn’t this true of everyone, famous or not? Aren’t people generally friendly? I once summarized this in a book I wrote in a line that reads, “You will know me when you forget my name.” It is my testimony to the false myth of celebrity. Labels, judgments form hierarchies, and breaking them can produce pleasant surprises.

Every time we make the unfamiliar familiar, the unknown known, or when we welcome the strange, the different, the “other” into our zone, we not only learn the art of accommodation, we also actually expand ourselves. We get more comfortable with the diversity, the mystery and open-endedness of others, and of life and all its peculiarities. Soon we begin to notice in us an openness to new music, art, books, types of people, ideas, and beliefs that can only enrich us.

I would like to end by sharing the following inspiring thought from The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration, a book of quotes by Vera Nazarian:

On the late afternoon streets, everyone hurries along, going about their own business. Who is the person walking in front of you on the rain-drenched sidewalk? He is covered with an umbrella, and all you can see is a dark coat and the shoes striking the puddles. And yet this person is the hero of his own life story. He is the love of someone’s life. And what he can do may change the world. Imagine being him for a moment. And then continue on your own way.

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Jim Paredes
Humming in my Universe http://philstar.com

Many years ago, when as a young parent I cradled my babies in my arms, awful thoughts of danger would come, and it would immediately occur to me that in case of fire, or something just as horrible, there was nothing I would not do to save them. I would readily have my arm cut off, or even give up my life in exchange for their safety. I had no hesitation whatsoever. That to me was the unconditional love I had as a parent. I would still do it today.

I’m sure many parents feel the same way about their children. Unconditional love is exactly that: love without any conditions; the objects do not have to earn it. From the lover’s point of view, it is given freely, without stipulations, no ifs or buts. And it asks for nothing in return. It only wishes the best of everything for the loved ones.

Unconditional love is something we are always looking for. We all long to have a best friend or lover or a family or community we can go to and experience thorough and full acceptance of who we are. We want a place where we do not have to try and project an image to be wanted, respected, accepted and yes, loved! A safe place where we are completely welcome and completely at home just as we are.

We are not twisted, folded, bent, cut down or forced in any way to be anything else or to fit into anyone’s expectations. We are simply who we are. And THAT feels great!

In my opinion, persons who can allow or accept other people to be who they are have made great strides as human beings. They have surely come to an acceptance of themselves, embracing their strengths, good qualities and positive traits, but more importantly, also their weaknesses, imperfections and even neuroses. They have made peace with both the desirable and despicable aspects of their own personalities.

One can tell when people have not traveled deep into their journey of self-acceptance. They are usually a bit too judgmental and harsh with other people’s foibles and errors. I believe that what we find ugly and despicable in others may have to do with parts of ourselves that we cannot accept or forgive. By the same token, what we find attractive in others are projections of ourselves playing out and ‘affirming’ us.

It takes a truly great spiritual being to live a life that is free from judging the actions of others. Maybe some zen monks and priests, rabbis and other religious practitioners can do it. But most of us find ourselves often judging others, and we probably always will.

This brings me back to unconditional love. Why is it that when our kids grow up, we find the unconditional love we had for them when they were little replaced with expectations of responsibility, achievement and performance? Whatever happened to accepting them just as they are, no matter what happens? What’s happened to us, or what happened to them? Why the change?

I think about this often and I have some thoughts I wish to share. Love is not always a passive act of accepting people as they are. When we love, we wish the best of everything for our loved ones. And so we give them tools for living that will help them to be happy and functional in life. That means teaching them not just the warm and fuzzy things that are associated with love but also the hard stuff they need to learn like sacrifice, delaying gratification, controlling emotions and drives, etc.

This is tough love, that side of love that many people would rather turn away from, for fear that their loved ones will not understand and reject them. But tough love is useful and it is necessary to dish it out at some point.

What would our children be if all we give them is the love that makes them soft, comfortable and sweet, but unable to negotiate through the vicissitudes of life? The love we teach must be honest, and furthermore, complete. Love entails sacrifice and as much as we practice it on our kids, they must learn to pick it up and see its value. Love has to do what love has to do, and by that I mean, we must do the hard work it entails.

Love has a face that is easy to accept. It also has another face which demands that we all grow up and appreciate its harsher, less pleasant countenance. Otherwise, love would be mere compassion without wisdom, what the philosopher Ken Wilber calls ‘idiot compassion’. Duke Ellington described it graphically when he said, “Love is supreme and unconditional; like is nice and limited.”

Love is wonderful when we are rewarded for the love we give. But it gets difficult when our children turn out to be disappointments and let us down. When we wake up to the fact that our children have not turned out the way we wanted them to, the toughest part of unconditional love either steps up to the plate or recoils and withdraws and becomes cynical.

Our loved ones can disappoint us because we have expectations to begin with. Is it wrong to have expectations? I do not know. But yes, I do have expectations of my children and I know that many of them have not and will not be met. I also know that my parents had expectations of me that I did not achieve. I also had expectations of myself that I failed to do or become. I also continuously fail in many things in my everyday personal life.

The difference between how I feel about my disappointments in myself then and now, is that I can now let go of them much easily. I will not waste time living with regret. When I can let go, I know I am complete and do not have to cling to an ideal of perfection. I am simply ME. I am sure that, for everything I may have missed out on, there has been something gained. And as much as possible, I try to apply the same attitude when it comes to how I feel about my loved ones.

To complete these musings on unconditional love, I quote a snippet of dialogue from the movie ‘Unconditional Love’ that I picked up on the net.

Dirk Simpson: I don’t believe in unconditional love, I mean, what is it anyway? Cut off my ears, steal my money and I’ll love you anyway?
Grace Beasley: Yes, and more.
Dirk Simpson: More?
Grace Beasley: You don’t have to love me back.###

1) To my Singapore readers, I will be doing a one afternoon workshop there on April 28. It will be fun and we will learn a lot from each other. Call Earla Aquino at +65-82336595 for details. Reserve now. A few slots left.

2) Manila readers, I will have a Basic Photo Workshop on May 14 from 1 to 6 p.m. in QC, P3,920. Call 0916-8554303 and ask for Olie, or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.com for more details.

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated April 15, 2012

Someone tweeted me the other day with the message, “I hope the housework has been kind to you…. LOL.”

She was referring to life here in Sydney where people have no household help and thus do all the work at home. Here, cleaning, washing dishes, wiping the tables, checking the mail, taking out the trash, doing the laundry, fixing the beds, cooking, mowing the lawn, and other mundane chores are all part of the daily routine.

Pinoys who live abroad often complain about having to do all these chores and not having time left for what they really want to. Although I agree with them and count myself among those who whine about housework, I do so with some reservation. Because, well, I admit, I often (okay, sometimes) enjoy housework.

This article is in praise of the unglamorous, repetitive, and often regarded as insignificant task that is housework.

I grew up in Manila and our family always had maids or kasambahay. They came to the family when they were very young and stayed on until they died or retired at an old age. The family treated them well. In fact, they became part of our family. When Inay, the oldest of my Mom’s house help died, my Mom gave up her own memorial plan to be used for Inay’s wake and burial.

At home in Manila, our Nita has been with us for 26 years. The other kasambahay and the driver have also stayed for almost that long. They are now getting old and we are looking after their medical needs.

When Lydia and I were married, we rented an apartment and decided we did not want household help. We wanted to be alone and do things for ourselves. But when we had our first child and moved to our own house, which was bigger and had a garden, we decided that we needed help.

But here in Sydney, we do everything mostly ourselves. Lydia, who has stayed here longer than I have and who has higher standards of cleanliness, functionality and aesthetics, does a lot of things herself. She knows every nook and cranny of the house and the things in it and is aware of what needs fixing, improving or changing. In the process, she has learned some rudimentary carpentry, and she can assemble and disassemble furniture, fix cabinets, align drawers, upholster chairs. She also sews, fixes curtains, paints the interiors of our house, mows the lawn, trims the hedge, etc.

Although I can also do a lot of those things (okay, maybe only some) I admit I play second fiddle to her. In other words, Lydia is the boss and I follow her instructions.

But I do feel some secret joy in sweeping the terrace, scrubbing the floor or mopping the living area. I feel good doing physical work. For one, it gets me off my butt and makes my body active. Housework can be compared to a workout except that one is not dressed for the gym and doing repetitive movements with machines. I also experience a thrill in seeing previously shabby, dirty areas looking spotless after I am done with them.

Aside from the pride I feel about a job well done, there is a spiritual dimension to housework. There is a Zen story where a student asked an old master what Zen was. The master answered by saying, “Get that stick and clean the shit over there.”

If you were expecting a deep answer, I hope you are not disappointed. Zen, in its simplicity, can sound anywhere from cheeky to perplexing with appropriate answers to someone looking for a special spiritual high or an esoteric experience. Zen is not about active seeking or attaining some spiritual peak but doing what needs to be done, and doing it with full attention and presence. And in the process, maybe a great transcendent realization may happen.

Washing the dishes in a quiet moment and being one with the experience is suggestive of a religious metaphor. It is like confession or baptism where one’s sins or imperfections are washed away clean and one is restored anew. It makes me feel good.

The Benedictines say, “Ora et Labora,” “To labor is to pray.” I agree. The sayings about earning one’s keep or singing for one’s supper may be old school but it is perennially true. Work is good for both the body and the soul. There is a good feeling that accompanies a body that is aching due to work when it rests at the end of the day. Something was earned and it was done in an honest way.

At the same time, however, I can understand the common resistance to doing physical work. It is hard, uncomfortable, it strains the body, and can give it pain. I do not seek it nor do I always volunteer to do it, but when I have to, I resign myself and do the best I can. When that moment of resignation is reached, I welcome the opportunity and immerse myself in the task, even enjoying the sweat my body produces from the physical activity.

“Sweat cleanses from the inside. It comes from places a shower will never reach,” wrote the late author-runner-philosopher George Sheehan. How true. A drink of water after working replenishes the body in such a basic way. Compare that to just sitting around aimlessly drinking a soda or sipping coffee while doing nothing.

There is something spiritual that underlies all the biological activity, if we care to listen to it. Every movement is best done purposefully, especially if it is hard to do. That is the way to make the job better and to feel better about doing it. You cannot enjoy it if all you want is to finish it as soon as possible.

Lastly, a word about laziness. I agree with the late psychiatrist and best-selling author M. Scott Peck, that laziness has to be the biggest sin of all. To only seek pleasure and shun all work, to not want to try at all is to turn away from life itself.

To cap, François Gaston, Duc de Lévis, who commanded the French forces in Canada in the 1700s, had this to say about work: “Boredom is a sickness the cure for which is work; pleasure is only a palliative.”

Now you’ll have to excuse me while I store some boxes in the garage.

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1) To my Singapore readers, I will be doing a one afternoon workshop there on April 28. It will be fun and we will learn a lot from each other. Call Earla Aquino at +65-82336595 for details. Reserve now. A few slots left.

2) Manila readers, I will have a Basic Photo Workshop on May 14 from 1 to 6 p.m. in QC, P3,920. Call 0916-8554303 and ask for Olie, or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.com for more details.

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated April 08, 2012 12:00 AM Comments

There are certain words that can strike fear into a person’s heart, words such as failure, loss, rejection, inadequacy, inability, to name a few. We may lose a job, a whole career, a loved one, a position, prestige, money, etc. Or we may fail at tasks that matter, or even at our life’s mission.

Experiences of rejection could happen in school, at work, in our social circles, the family. We could even judge and reject ourselves as not being good enough.

There are also experiences when we will feel we have bitten off more than we can chew and this makes us feel somewhat inadequate and humbled.

We will surely experience such situations in our lives, sometimes even repeatedly. And yes, the pain in such experiences cuts deep and can be so demoralizing that we could remain stuck and unable to recover our bearing or zest to move on.

We could fall in a spiral of depression and self-loathing. Some people suffer nervous breakdowns. In certain tragic instances, it could even be fatal. We have heard of people who have committed suicide after suffering a great personal setback.

Pain and suffering are part of the topography of life’s journey. It starts in paradise where all is rosy and cozy. But sooner or later, we get kicked out of it and lose our innocence, and that’s when real life begins. We wander through the alternating harshness and comforts of life’s seasons, its valleys and peaks, its deserts and lushness, its graces and curses. And the only relief from this roller coaster ride is to decide to live with whatever shows up until we can finally embrace it. Perhaps one of the greatest realizations ever uttered by man is the all-too-common expression, “That’s life.” It sums up the baffling unevenness, the cruelties and ironies of life, its joys and sadness, the triumphs and tribulations we are bound to encounter.

Our experience of life, as philosophers describe it, is dualistic. There is good and there is bad. We necessarily live on both sides of these opposite dichotomies. If we have never seen night, we would not be aware what day is like. If we do not know wet, how can we begin to describe what dry is, or even think of it as a unique state? We only know things because we have experienced their opposites. And often we adjust to this with great difficulty.

I have read about and observed how some religious practices handle this conundrum of duality. (I am writing this a few days before Easter, by the way.) In the Christian world, this is a time of the year when believers ponder the suffering and death of Jesus and His resurrection on Easter Sunday.

An intriguing observation about Easter is this: we desire and strive so hard to be powerful and, yes, God-like, while God had this great desire to be human like us. God was willing to trade his immortality to experience mortality — through his son. One of the many ironic and paradoxical messages here is, one must be willing to die so that one may really live, even through others. Here, the idea of handling duality is choosing one over the other. One must choose life over death, good over evil.

Visiting Kathmandu many years ago, I witnessed, with great fascination, a Hindu death ceremony. On a platform inside the Hindu temple, a corpse was set on a funeral pyre. While this was going on, by the Bhagmati River which runs through the temple, I saw a dead man being washed in preparation for the next cremation. And in the same river, I watched children swimming, a woman washing clothes, a man urinating, and peasants diving in the water for pieces of clothing that the relatives of the dead man on the cremation platform had been throwing prior to disposing of his ashes, also in the Bhagmati River, which merges with the great Ganges in India, the final resting place of Hindus.

I was amazed at the richness and diversity of the activities that were happening all in the same setting. My take on this is that in the Hindu faith, life and death are interconnected. There is no separating one from the other. In everything that was happening all was the “suchness” of being alive. In the Hindu religion, the sacred and profane, sadness and happiness, loss and gain, death and life are all valid forces playing out within one arena.

In Zen practice, there are koans given by the teacher to the students to deepen their understanding of Zen and life itself. Koans are deeply intriguing questions or stories that can immediately baffle a student and force him to get out of a rational, logical mode of thinking and approach the koan with full intuition and a beginner’s mind. One famous koan goes, “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Anyone who hears this is immediately stumped and will, almost always, try to swing one hand to attempt what is literally being asked.

But that response can only bring the student further from the truth it is pointing at. My understanding of this koan is that it is a question aimed at duality itself. It asks what life and everything would be like without an opposite.

Sooner than later, the question will make one think, shake his head and ask why everyone seems to be stuck in the preposterous ideal of aiming for a perfect life. A clap is, after all, produced by two opposing forces coming head on. So all our frantic attempts at trying to escape duality by shunning, rejecting and eliminating all sadness, loss, rejection and other unpleasant stuff, and keeping only the so-called good experiences, will seem like madness. Surely, it is impossible to run away from these. But still we keep trying.

The only escape from such madness is to accept everything as part of the lock, stock and barrel of life and so it stops being dualistic. No more conditions. Everything and everyone are welcome and seen as bearing gifts (although we may balk at some gifts). Life comes in an entire set, with nothing excluded. All is one.

I have a rather nuanced appreciation of Easter that I wish to share. Easter is replete with themes of triumph, redemption, and yes, celebration. But Easter was only possible because there was suffering and death and resurrection that went with it. Life, whether it be Jesus’ or anyone else’s, would be meaningless without suffering.

And it takes “faith” for both the secular and religious to believe that life can and does get better, and that people have the spiritual capacity to rise over loss, rejection and failure.

That to me is the great truth about Easter that everyone from any religious persuasion can appreciate.

Happy Easter to every sentient being on earth.

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts. From William Shakespeare’s As You Like It

‘Theater is the filling up of time and space,” my teacher Rolando Tinio declared, discussing an activity he loved in its most simple form. The stage is the space and what you do on it your every movement, every word spoken, every silence and pause, every emotion is played out in a span of time by the performers. This is a great description of theater and performance, and it may well be an apt metaphor for life itself.

The space is the world we live in, including the geographic and emotional locations we find ourselves in as we show up for everyday life. And time is, well, our entire lifespan. Perhaps the main difference between theater and life is proportion. A great theatrical performance where time and space are filled up majestically with a great story and a convincing dramatic depiction may seem “bigger than life” as the expression goes, but it will always be dwarfed by the largeness of real life playing out. An average lifetime, after all, is longer than a two- to three-hour performance and is “performed” in multiple locations. And everyday life, though not as packed with dramatic content every two hours or so, surely has its share of drama that we take part in and generate.

Then there is also the script. In theater, it is vital for a performer to know the script and relate to it on various levels to be able to give a decent performance. In real life, there is a starting script that you inherit your personal circumstances that are your givens parents, race, nationality, economic and social status, religion, genes and physical characteristics, etc. At any time, you have the choice to follow this script or dump it and create a new one as you go.

Life is an open-ended performance where you are the scriptwriter, director, actor and if you develop enough of an interior life, you may also be the audience and critic/reviewer all rolled into one.

When life seems aimless or when I am bored or stuck between life’s stages, levels, journeys or meanings, I worry about how time is slipping away. Look at old picture albums, or hang out with classmates you’ve known forever, or listen to retro music and you will understand what I mean. What were once new, current, young and fresh are now rendered quaint, old, irrelevant and useless by time.

As the years go by, I notice how short life really is. Years can pass almost with the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it could all be over.

I recently had a conversation with an old friend whom I had always known to be super active. He liked to travel, go diving in the ocean, sky dive, climb mountains and engage the great outdoors. He sucked the marrow of life’s adventures, so to speak. He was, after all, a former Green Beret, the elite corps of the US military. He was one of those guys that is tough, trained to do anything and everything, and he did. The last time we talked was years ago. Now 72, he has slowed down a bit due to health problems.

When I asked him if he still went diving, he looked at me and said that he has pretty much lost his appetite for such physical activities. I know he is still physically fit to do them, though on a more moderate basis, but he said it was a case of “been there, done that.” He is done. The thrill has gone.

While I am far from wanting a limited engagement with life, I can relate to my friend’s need to prioritize what he would like to do with his time. After all, at 72, he has less time to do it all. If he cannot totally plan his life and choose only worthwhile activities, he can make sure that everything he does is a meaningful pursuit and not a waste of time. And he can do this by being present and paying attention to whatever is going on around him.

Now, more than ever, I give greater thought and sincere responses to questions about life’s meaning, the true relevance of activities and issues that come up in everyday life, the value of the people I meet, and questions that matter outside the field of space and time. This mindset opens an avenue so wide it makes living exciting. The onset of age and its diminishing prospects, especially time-wise, can open us up to the possibility that the greater part of our being may be its link to the timeless and borderless, or the eternal.

If you seek meaning in what you do, choose your activities and link them to values, causes and truths that will outlive you. Those actions will constitute time well spent on life’s stage. Time and effort such as these do not only define and depict a life well-lived while performing on life’s transient stage, they defy time itself as the greatness of your life lingers long after your performance has ended.

It is making every moment a shot at eternity. When one’s life’s performance has ended, people will still be talking about how extraordinary it was.

http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=790592&publicationSubCategoryId=449

Jim Paredes

I recently met with Ms. Kay Bunagan and Ms. Teddi Dizon, two young
psychologists with the Ugat Foundation, an NGO that helps families in
the grassroots deal with psychological problems. They wanted to get me
interested in something they are very passionate about: Project Leap
Year,  a mission to help our OFWs cope with the psychological problems
they go through because they are away from their home, loved ones and
country.

Try to imagine being an OFW in, say, Italy where Kay and Teddi and
their group of psychologists currently operate. Let’s get into the
mind of someone who has left everything familiar and important in the
hope of earning enough money to keep his loved ones alive. In the name
of love, one turns his back on everything that spells ‘home’ and lives
and works in an alien culture away from the people whom he loves and
who sustain him. It is hard to miss the cruel twist of fate here.

There are countless hardships and sacrifices OFWs encounter. The
feeling of alienation living in a strange culture, and learning a new
language and customs are just some of the tough situations they face.
Add the disempowering feeling of being denigrated to the task of doing
lowly menial jobs even if they have college degrees and professional
experience in the Philippines. That does something quite devastating
to a person psychologically. There is also the extreme loneliness in
being far away from the reach and touch of loved ones.

There are a lot of things OFWs and their families go through. There
are the unintended and unpredictable changes in the family dynamics.
OFWs miss out on birthdays, weddings, graduations, baptisms, house
blessings, anniversaries, Christmas, Easter and other family bonding
moments. They are also not there for the less dramatic but equally
important moments like family dinners and simple family time with the
spouse and kids. Children in turn grow up without one or sometimes
both parents, missing out on the parental love and guidance they need.
They are raised by surrogate parents like ates, kuyas, lolo, lola,
aunties, uncles or whoever is the adult they are assigned to.

All these surely take a toll on family life. The situation is bound to
cause some kind of resentment on the part of the children. As time
goes by, the unusual situation loses its novelty but not its
unintentional negative consequences. Family life settles into
something less than what it once was. The formerly richly nuanced
relationships are reduced to something more like a simple financial
arrangement. One parent works abroad while the spouse and children
left behind spend the money.

The effect of all this on the OFW’s psyche can be quite a burden. He
can suffer a kind of  psychological fragmentation. In his mind, the
family members are somewhat unrealistically ‘frozen’ in time, and he
lives with an idealized impression of the kind of people his children
or his spouse really are or have become. There is a gaping hole in his
understanding of the reality of what has happened to the family. He
has after all missed out on much of their lives, and vice-versa.

Kay and Teddi point out that many OFWs are in denial and even
delusional about their situations, and that of their loved ones. Their
capacity to earn money and send it home has superseded all other
responsibilities and concerns.  It has become the justification for
everything. And it is easy to understand how this has come to be.

Kay told me about an OFW woman enrolled in the therapy they offer who
had stayed in Italy for many years. She was finally able to bring over
a daughter she hardly knew, only to discover that they were both
alienated from each other. Her daughter was not only a stranger but
harbored so much resentment towards her mother for having ‘abandoned’
her. As part of the woman’s therapy, she had to vent all her bad
feelings by writing down everything she had gone through and
sacrificed as an OFW. Since she was not computer literate, she asked
her daughter to type the document for her. It was only then that her
daughter realized what it took for her mother to ‘raise’ her
financially until they could be reunited.

The Leap Year Project, so named since it was started only this year,
offers psychological workshops, interventions that deal with the
fragmentation and ‘compartmentalization’ OFWs suffer in the hope that
they can be whole and empowered enough to reconnect with themselves,
and eventually their loved ones and their community. And the great
thing is, according to Kay and Teddi, the Leap Year Project is
remarkably effective. OFWs who go through the workshop not only heal
but also pick up skills that help them help others in the community.
In effect, it is a great service to our modern day ‘heroes’ who most
need it.

It takes a lot of resources to keep this going. The cost of airline
tickets alone is a big drain on meager resources. Kay and Teddi’s team
of four psychologists would like to get more of their colleagues
involved to deliver this service to other OFW communities in other
countries. The workshops demand that the psychologists stay a month at
a time to make sure that the process is thorough, even if they hardly
receive any compensation for it.

I am writing to urge you, dear reader, to help this compassionate
effort in any way. Aside from financial contributions, they also need
volunteer staff, videographers, editors and even participants who can
help them raise funds by joining the workshops they offer.

To inquire how to help, please call 4265992 or email ugat@admu.edu.ph.
The way to help our OFWs is to help them restore a true sense of
authenticity in their lives, and their relationship with themselves,
their loved ones and their own Filipino-ness.

#  #  #
Last Basic Photography Workshop  until May. Sign up now and learn how to use that DSLR to make sure your summer photos are great.

When: March 24

Where: 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC.

What time: 1 to 6:30 p.m.

How much : P3,920 VAT inclusive.

Call Ollie at 0916-8554303, 426-5375 or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.comfor inquiries and reservations.

–

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated March 11, 2012 12:00 AM

In my sixth year as a columnist for the Philippine STAR, I realize that I’ve written about an entire gamut of topics such as God, spirituality, technology, the future, people, teaching, music, passion – you name it, I’ve done it. Except for one topic that I spend an inordinate time on and I am very passionate about it. I have barely written about photography.

Over the years, I have done countless photography workshops around the Philippines, in Sydney and Melbourne, Los Angeles, and soon, I will give one in Singapore. I teach the basics, and even a few advanced topics such as glamour photography, and the art of the nude. And I have been a judge in many photography club contests around Metro Manila.

On an obvious level, it is understandable why I have not written about photography, which is all about pictures. Why write about it when I can just show the photos I have taken. And I do share my photos in different websites; I have had two solo exhibits and have participated in joint ones.

But when I put on my writer’s cap, I realize there is much in photography to write about. For one thing, never in the history of man have so many people suddenly had the capability to take pictures with simple and high-end cameras, cell phones and gadgets that probably have more capabilities than the cameras used by the masters only some 30 years ago. Sometimes, I kid about this and say that everyone on earth is turning Japanese. I used to laugh at how many Japanese carried cameras as standard equipment for every day living and how they would take pictures of anything, including the food they are about to eat. My wife and daughters, I have noticed, also do this very same thing today. Every facet of life must now be documented in pictures.

Today, there is an abundance of cameras in the hands of people with the corresponding deluge of photos they post online for everyone to see. This makes me resigned over the lack of aesthetics in most of these snapshots. Many are underexposed, overexposed and quite lacking in basic presentation values. Look at social media and be underwhelmed by the ho-hum slices of their lives that people post in tons of dreary pictures.

I always start my photography classes by defining photography as the art of using light to tell stories. With the camera, one captures and manipulates the light available (or unavailable) to give a narrative that aims to move the audience in some way. One takes pictures to evoke delight, surprise, shock, disgust, fear, joy, laughter, awe, sensuality, mystery and other feelings within. In my book, if a photo does not do that, it is not worth keeping or posting.

How does one evoke emotion and feeling in a photograph? Do objects already evoke these feelings by themselves and all we need to do is capture them? Or do we actually give the spin to what we see and capture it as such? Good questions.

To me, good photography is about making a visual narrative, however short, of what we are looking at. For example, before capturing the image of a building, a photographer must ask him or herself what it is about the building that he or she wishes to convey. And the way to do that is to attach an adjective to what one is looking at. Instead of just a building, the photographer may want to take a picture of an “imposing” building, or a “busy” building, or even a “sorry looking” one. With an adjective in mind and using the buttons on the camera, one can come up with an evocative photo that will impact on the beholder.

It is amazing what one can do with the few tools available in a camera. With the adjustment of speed, aperture opening, ISO and White Balance alone, a photographer can use an infinite combination of settings and apply these to a subject to create different pictures around a narrative. Throw in angle and framing and the options practically double. These tools are pretty basic. Using my background in music, I call them the ‘do-re-mi’ of photography.

I started taking pictures during that charming era long ago when people still used something called film. At the time, every shot I took cost me money, even before the film could be developed and the pictures printed. Compared to today, we took only a few pictures. And we had to wait a few days before we could see the photos since we had to have the film processed in a lab. Every shot therefore was given some thought, arranged properly and shot with the right settings to make sure it would be a lucky one.

I remember doing shoots for magazines using my Mamiya medium format camera and being given only four to six rolls of film (with only 10 shots per roll) for the cover and inside photos. I took the shots with great concentration and focus, and then fretted till I saw the final outcome a few days later. The activity had to be done with careful calculation and an eye out for detail, and, of course, knowledge of my equipment.

Camera manufacturers are constantly upgrading and giving their products newer and wider capabilities that can tantalize a photography enthusiast or professional. And each time a new camera model is released with ever better bells and whistles, I am so tempted to part with some of my wealth just to own one.

But great pictures are captured by people, not by cameras. One can have a great camera and totally miss out on what is right before him. But a person with a visual story to tell can work the subject to do what he wants it to, and say what he wants to say, even with a simple point and shoot camera.

Sometimes, when I have a physical need to take pictures, I go out and look for scenery, or call people and ask them to pose for me in my little studio setup at home. Luckily, I have a group of friends in Sydney who I go with on occasional out-of-town trips to capture the breathtaking sceneries that Australia has to offer.

A passion is something that feeds one’s soul and must be allowed to express itself. To me, shooting the moment is like choosing the right notes in making music, or the right words or thoughts in writing a poem, short story, novel or essay. It is gazing at the physical world, taking delight in it, and preserving a moment of zen insight into an image!

* * *

Last Basic Photography Workshop runs until May. Sign up now and learn how to use that DSLR to make sure your summer photos are great.

When: March 24

Where: 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC.

What time: 1 to 6:30 p.m.

How much : P3,920 VAT inclusive.

Call Ollie at 0916-8554303, 426-5375 or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.comfor inquiries and reservations.

My visit to Baguio last week was a pleasant shocker. After dozens of visits to the summer capital in my lifetime, I thought I had seen everything this charming destination could offer, until I went with Sydney friends Edd Aragon and Menchie Maneze to the BenCab Museum along Kilometer 6 in Asin, Tuba.

National Artist Ben Cabrera — the BenCab himself — greeted us at the gate, and after taking some photos by the museum entrance, we went in. I was immediately charmed upon entering the lobby where large art pieces greeted us and I knew this was going to be a special treat to my artistic senses.

The museum building is multi-level, made of glass and steel. To view all the exhibits, one must take the stairs four floors down. On the top and bottom platforms are viewing decks decorated with sculptures and outdoor paintings, and a breathtaking view of the entire property.

In full panorama are thousands of trees on a steeply slanted hill that is at least a couple hundred feet tall. Between the museum and the hill is a valley of streams, lily ponds and pathways that lead to large gardens and hidden delights such as waterfalls, orchards, fishponds, small gardens and little Igorot huts scattered throughout the property. Strewn randomly but artfully about the huge property are carvings in stone, wood and petrified rock and lots of bonsai. Within this magical kingdom are also the studio and living areas of the artist himself.

We were lucky to have been accompanied on our tour by BenCab himself. He knew every detail of the place by heart. He described every tree planted, every patch of land beautified, in a continuing conversation from the time we arrived, through lunch, and until we left the premises four hours later.

I gathered that it had been BenCab’s dream to build a site like this for sometime. Walking with him around his property, I realized that, in this case, the artist was a creator in the grandest sense of the word. He has not only created artworks that have delighted his international audience, he has also created entire landscapes, environments, ecologies and mindscapes — worlds, if you will — in this generous sprawl of nature.

It was a special delight listening to BenCab, who allowed us into his creative universe pointing out his art pieces and giving us the background of each. He spoke intimately about the paintings and sculptures, including those that were not his own creations. Bulol statues that occupy an entire wall, ancient Igorot wooden pieces — bags, rice containers, harvest vessels, etc. — displayed in a huge room are really impressive.

A valuable bit of trivia I learned from the artist himself is that Paul McCartney actually bought one of his paintings in Ermita when the Beatles played Manila in the ‘60s. Sir Paul paid P70 for it. The sale transpired while the artist had stepped out of his gallery. To Bencab’s dismay, no one in the gallery had taken a picture or even had thought of asking for an autograph from the famous buyer. Years later, when BenCab wanted to include the sold artwork in a book he published in London, he wrote to McCartney who acknowledged he still had the painting and even sent a photo. The title of the work is “Fishing in Sexmoan.”

A friend who had visited BenCab’s museum a few months ago described it as “world-class.” I would have to agree. It isn’t just a nice or impressive place for Baguio or the Philippines, it is comparable to great museums we have visited in other parts of the world, such as the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, for example.

There was a small but steady stream of visitors when we were there who, like us, were enjoying the exhibits, the outdoors and the café. Once in a while, BenCab would gamely pose with them for pictures or autograph a museum flier. Marveling at BenCab’s capacity to create something as maddeningly beautiful as this, I realized that not everyone shared my appreciation of the place. I am hoping that local officials see the value of the great art and heroic effort in an investment of this magnitude that honors, propagates and preserves man’s higher longings.

A few tax beaks would certainly encourage more investments in fine and worthy projects like the BenCab Museum that uplift our sensibilities, instead of the crass materialism of golf courses, theme parks, malls and parking lots.

* * *

For the first time, I am offering an Advanced Photo Workshop on March 10, 2012. This will be in a location where we will shoot under different sets of lighting conditions with a model. For details, e-mail jpfotojim@gmail.com or call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.
View to a thrill: The breathtaking view from the top floor of the museum.

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