Finding My Word.

Coexist.

I woke up early today. My body is rebelling against me, I think. I wake up early when I don’t have to and stay plastered in bed when I’m not supposed to. At 8 am on a holiday, I start to multi-task. This is just the way it goes. I talk to a friend about a rough episode she’s going through, while chatting with another friend about life in general and how disappointing things are turning out right now. I do this while catching up on new music I have learned to like. There is only so much this girl can really navigate through in this early Monday morning.

It’s a great thing. It really is. It reminds me of how human I am in this world I circle in. This makes me feel real and engaged in the sincere things of the world.

Heartbreak. Heartache. Disappointment. Frustration. Stress.

Lately, I’ve been surrounded with a cloud of all of these. It seems like everyone I know has, in one way or another, a taste of the mentioned. So much so that I feel like it is starting to add an extra shade of gray to the gloom that already surrounds LA.

But I say this without complaining. I decided to write about it because it is such a humbling thing. I refuse to associate all of this to the word vulnerable, because ‘humbling’ seems more liberating. Vulnerability has a sense of losing some sort of battle; humility speaks of weakness but is always anchored to growth.

The thing about heartbreak is that it can’t be ignored. You will have to deal with it eventually. It’s one of those things that we try to deny, until every last reason exists. It seems easier that way. Passively avoiding it makes us forget, sure, but only for a lasting while. In the long run, submission to it is the only sure end.

Break-ups. Death. Career roadblocks. Sickness. Financial insecurity. Tainted relationships. Undeserved circumstance. Unresolved conflict. Unforgiveness.

It is real. It always has been. But only the brave choose to talk about it and actually deal with it. Filipinos are known to be the most non-confrontational people in the face of the earth. I grew up in this environment so I should know. Everyone seems to have something they are scared to say, to vocalize. I’ve seen this so many times. The happiest people, the most carefree ones at that also have a tipping point of sorts. When all has been said, done and seen by everyone else, there also comes a time when an actual fall-out happens.

Again I say this is a beautiful thing because at the very moment that you witness someone without any form of control break down and admit loss, you suddenly realize how human this person is. Things become real and relationships become solid. For a while you watch them go through their own personal hell. You say the things you can say but mostly you stay there and just watch from a distance. There is only so much I, as a friend can do. Sympathy is essential and appreciated, but it doesn’t ultimately heal.

People deal with things the way they know how. They lash out, they resort to denial or they substitute their real emotions with something fleeting. But this can be their way of grieving. This is probably what they know. There is no right way to grieve. One thing however, is for certain: Grief is necessary. As that person watching from a close range, you have to allow that. You have to watch them fall, reach the ground and leave them there. You have no match against time. The reality of heartbreak and pain is a result of time. It can only be resolved through the same thing: TIME. It’s a full circle.

So why write about this? Because I have my own share of hurt too. And knowing that the people I love go through it too, helps me heal. So humbling.

For a while, I feel like I’ve lost my creative self. I feel like I’ve hit a dead end in trying to tap through my creative sense. And that is why I stopped writing. Other big things come in the way of these un-affirmed passions, you know. And as much as it hurt me to not let this version of me fully blossom, I decided to stay quiet about it. This is why I feel the need to find myself. To find my true niche, my ideal. But the bigger things in life come along and make you forget. And again, its good for a lasting while but it always surfaces back as something you don’t expect to still matter.

And eventually, I had to deal with it. To realize that you are not where you are supposed to be is a very painful thing. Not knowing what to do about it is just…I don’t even have the words. All I know is that it takes time. Yes, Time. Time will be the only one that will allow me to really find who I am and what I love. Time will be my friend.

For those of you going through an impossible ordeal, time will definitely serve you well. It is the one sure thing that can really heal. Gaaah, cliches are gross. Haha.

A break-up. Unreciprocated efforts. Damaging relationships. Failed careers. Creative hindrances and all the ugly stuff in between…Gosh this list will never end now, will it?

Just go through it. You will get hurt (really, really bad) but you will reach a point, that magnificent place where real growth happens. Once you are ready, and only time and your own self can really dictate that, Coexistence will happen.

To coexist means to live in peace in the moment, amidst the differences. We will eventually find equanimity in our situation, with the people that hurt us, and with ourselves. Once we’ve dealt with that, we find balance again. We find that we are able to go through our days with pure, unblemished energy. We get to sleep well without tossing and turning at night. We have undivided time with our family and friends. We have healthy social lives and become excellent again at what we do. We find our equilibrium once again.

Coexistence is the twin of forgiveness and a product of, you guessed it, Time.

It will be a great, great day. That moment when you wake up one day and realize that you’re okay. Pain and heartache does not really go away, it will always linger. But the amazing thing about being human is that we are created to adapt, to assimilate. And even as we go through our own personal hells, we will one day arrive at a point when we become okay with the circumstances that pin us down, and that we will learn to be okay with ourselves.

And then we live. We learn to live again. We don’t learn to forget the past, we learn to accept it as part of our story. And that’s how life goes, folks. We accept ourselves a bit more than we used to and learn to live with it. One day we smile and realize that not only have we forgiven the people that hurt us, but we have also forgiven ourselves.

This is just how it works, guys. There is no way around it.

Hey, we learned to live through 9/11 right? We’ve come to accept Michael Jackson’s death and will soon be smiling at memory of Whitney Houston. Ondoy crushed us but we came out united and strong. I hated living in LA at first, but it has now become a city I know. A city I call mine.

We just eventually live through it. We always do.

Bad choices always make good stories. They really do. I find that to be very comforting. My story is the best because It is mine and I own it. You do too. I bet you’ve even perfected a way, a choreography even, to tell it. And the story just gets better every time it gets told.

One day, someone will tell you their story of pain. Listen well and smile. This possibly is the very first version of their story. Wait and let time do what it does best and trust that the final version of that story will be the real deal. It will be an awesome and encouraging story, I’ll tell you that. Watch them smile and laugh about it later and enjoy it for what it is, a story of the past.

I will go back to bed and take a quick nap before I start my day. Today will be fun. And later, when I get back home for what remains of this Monday, I will take a long relaxing shower, sing my heart out, put on my Pj’s and lock myself in the comforts of my own bed and sleep. Tomorrow will be what it is supposed to be…

A new day.

Dreams.

Jim Paredes once asked me to write down all the things I can think of that I enjoy doing. No guidelines. He just told me, and a couple of others, to jot down the things that make me happy.  Without thinking and without hesitation, I readily wrote all I could think of in a clean white sheet of paper. Naturally, I filled up the whole page. Fifteen minutes later, he asks us one question. “How often do you get to do the things you wrote in a DAY?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. Its one of those questions that do not need a response to prove a point. Darn. I hate those questions. I hate them because they strike. Sharp point, perfect aim, ready to pounce kind of strike.

Man, I got so excited. I made sure I had written almost everything that made me happy. I made sure I didn’t miss anything. The excitement was so short lived, I’ll tell you that much. Oh, the agony of realizing how disengaged I was in the things I thought I was passionate about was definitely painful.

I underestimated the power of this simple exercise, that’s for sure. I will never forget how much this short activity affected my perspective on pursuing my own dreams.  That day, I felt lightheaded. I can’t believe I allowed the busyness of life to deprive me of the very things that make me whole, that make me beautiful. I was missing out!

If you were asked the same question, chances are, and I know my predictions are right, your face will drop the way mine did. You will realize that you spend so much time on the things that spell out the word RESPONSIBILITY without even knowing that you had let whatever it is that once kept you alive, go.

It’s a tricky deal, I tell you. Because sometimes you don’t even know you had a dream until you allowed yourself to actually lose it. Growing UP does not equate to growing OUT of the things that matter to you.  Quite fankly, I’d rather be a 25 year old with a heart of a 9 year old than a 25 year old with a brain of a 58 year old. I don’t ever want to lose my child-like wonder. Never.

When you were 16, you might have dreamed of being a writer. A singer. A dancer. A poet. A pilot. A traveler. A chef. A designer. A director. A photographer. A filmmaker. A teacher. A communicator. An Artist.

Tell me, why aren’t you who you dreamed you are going to be?

Can’t answer for you but I’ll tell you at least why I am not.

Because I got scared. I got terrified of failing. The thing about dreaming big is that the gap between that ideal and the actual reality likewise becomes HUGE. The bigger I dreamed, the bigger the gap became. Sure, I had hopes for myself. But somewhere along the way, I realized that confidence in itself does not cut it. I became part of a bigger world with bigger people who have bigger dreams. I stopped seeing my dream as unique and being next to the big guys, I stopped believing that I was as capable.  I felt like I didn’t have the right to pursue this said dream anymore because of the many responsibilities that I have to put first in my life. Money. Stability. Survival. I honestly think that these are the first names of those big-headed guys in Mt. Rushmore. Its what every American lives by. No kidding.

Because I was going along with the big guys, My dream became smaller and smaller. Thinking that it was something I’ve always loved, I thought I could always go back to it and nurture it eventually. WRONG. Fact is, the longer you put it aside, the harder it is for you to go back to that feeling of familiarity, of bliss. You allow yourself to live long enough without it that you trick your mind in believing that maybe you don’t want it in your life anymore. 

Once your heart realizes that it wants nothing more than to be married to that dream again, you then feel the overwhelming reality of fear. You will certainly feel that leaving what THE NOW is, what you already know, cannot support you enough to live in THE THEN. Responsibility handcuffs you in your comfy spot and doubt starts to play tricks on you, making you not want to go anywhere.  Worse, you start to think that maybe SETTLING is the better idea.

The thing about dreams is that they are real. They really are, folks. They are not something that we long for only in our sleep. These are actually the things that keep us awake and sober to the beauty of this mad world. The world out there is tough. It’s cruel, sure. But dreams reconcile what is just tolerated with what is celebrated. 

To follow your dream is not a selfish thing.  You are not ultimately putting yourself up as the only star in the show.  I haven’t really heard of anybody wanting to be something so that nobody can take part in it. Organically, even without us realizing this, we dream of becoming someone or doing something to ultimately cater to a community. Various kinds. We are designed to be part of a community. That’s history book fact, friends. We were created to eventually be part of a bigger whole. Even if you don’t believe this now, eventually you will see that your dreams are really more for other people than it is just for you.

An artist never reaches their full potential as an artist if their art is not appreciated, adored and enjoyed by an audience. A singer is not a great singer if she chooses not to be heard. A dancer can dance in the dark, but won’t feel as alive as when he dances in the spotlight. Words are just words alone, but with the craft and imagination of a writer, it becomes a story.

That’s what distinguishes a dream from a hobby. If you do something you’re great at and limit yourself to it being a job, you will run out of reasons to keep on doing it. However, the moment you understand that that gift of yours far exceeds the boundaries of self, your world will be opened up to a concept called purpose.

Dreams are not only for those who are asleep. Dreams are for people who are brave enough to wake this world up and invite change.

Dreams are there for a reason. Every single one of us has one. Not all of us, however will follow them. Sad, sad fact. So, upon embracing what we are purposed to do, I likewise think that it’s our responsibility to be dream releasers. Yes, responsibility. No impact is stronger than you making another person believe in his own self. Encouragement encompasses commentary. No amount of words you say will matter if you are not building real courage in a person’s life. Believe in who they are now, but invest in who they are going to be later. You’ll find that once you take part in releasing their dreams, you continually release and expand yours as well.

What is your dream? What is it that you find yourself doing till the very last years of your life? What are you good at? How can that gift create change? If there is no such thing as failure, and if the availability of resources will never a problem, would you go for that dream? Would you fight to get it? Would you? Would you go back to your first love?

Go on, Dream. Dream Big. It’s Ok, I promise. I believe in you. I really, with all my heart, believe in you. Choose your dream, own it and then release someone else’s.

When I’m 67, I want to be able to tell stories. Stories of worth. I know I will only get to do that If I go back to that white sheet of paper I once wrote on. It might cost me everything. But the return is more than I could ever imagine. This, I know to be true. I am learning that it will never be too late to choose happiness.  Never.

Wake up now, sleepy head. Get a clean white sheet of paper and start writing.

Travel.

I never get to sleep the night before. Any planned trip, big or small, excitement always gets the best of me. I try to remember the things I have to pack come morning, mentally counting the number of undies I stuffed in my suitcase. Going places to me is just as important as Champorado with Tuyo. I need to have it as often as I can.

I realize that the main reason why I bought an SLR is because I like shooting places. After each day that I am out and about in a new city or a familiar place I’ve gone back to, you’d see nothing but pictures of odd curves and unnoticeable details. People huddled together, big smiles and all, are rarely seen in the pool of photos I’ve come up with. 

Travel. Ahhh, just saying it makes me happy. It just makes sense to me. It really does.

My mom loves travel shows. I grew up watching it with her. It is great TV! That is the kind of reality TV I appreciate. It is the stories that capture me first, the sights of it only come in second. This is why I am on a mission to one day meet Anthony Bourdain, among many other travel journalists. His show is astounding as it is, but it is the things he writes about in these places that gets me. He just sees it from a different level of perspective. How amazingly creative, that guy. And he writes his own stuff. Genius. Over the years, my definition of travel has become this: Leaving what you know so you can go back and tell a story of what you didn’t know. 

Traveling becomes gold because of the stories you discover and get to tell. There will always be a story to tell. And there will always be someone who will want to listen.

Not too long ago, I have made it a goal to just….GO. Go where my budget wills me. Go where I’ve never been to. Go with people I love and Go without letting my “what-ifs” stop me. And now that I get to do that, I do not take it for granted. It doesn’t have to be somewhere grand.  It need not be some place expensive. It could be mini weekend trips, long drives or small countries. The plan is to just go, eat, drink and dance. Remember, car conversations will save your life. Those are the most meaningful conversations ever. Yes, you can quote me on that.

It’s not really about going somewhere that matters. Travel to me is more about leaving where you currently are to trust in the unknown. It is about hoping for adventures and kissing the randomness of it all. We know what we know in our lives that’s why we are always scared to leave. Travel teaches you selflessness. You just get out there and engage yourself in the universe, not having control of the time and energy around you, crossing your fingers and pressing your eyes shut hoping that bird poop wont land in your head.

Do it afraid. Do it excited. Do it without knowing. Travel can teach you a thing or two about humility. Home is great but home is familiar. Home is a place that works for our advantage. Always. Home can most of the time be manipulated/ive. It gets too comfortable sometimes that’s why leaving becomes necessary.

Travel can only be enjoyed if you’re willing to open yourself up to nature and organically allow yourself to be an outsider being welcomed by each city you pass. Be a spectator. Enjoy it. Learn from observing. Watch. Join in on the fun. No one knows you there. Dance. Drink a glass of wine (Or 2. Or 3) Sing, if they ask you. Find joy in restaurant hunting. Eat something you’ve never tasted in your life. Talk to a stranger. Tip your hotel housekeeper. Write them thank You notes. Smile. Walk. Look up in the sky. Take a picture of someone eating a sub during their lunch break. Share a cab with someone you’ve only met once. Attempt to speak Spanish. Laugh. Laugh hard. Laugh till you sneeze your food out. Hug someone. Jump. Jump while laughing. Laugh while jumping. Order Chinese take-out and share a dimsum with an old friend. Sing in the shower. Sing in the car. Sing. Dance. Dance on the streets. Breakdance until you break your thumb. Ride a bike. Ride a 6 cycle bike. With 6 of your old friends. Shop. Buy stupid stuff. Dream. Talk about your dreams with someone. Do nothing. Say nothing. Ask questions. Share answers. Share an ice cream sundae with someone. Jack Daniels. Be a tourist and do not care for once. Tell a story. Listen to a story. Be the story.

This is as selfless as it gets, folks. 

Manila.

You’re bittersweet. I hate you yet I love you more than you think. You’re so simple, you make me smile. You’re so insanely complex, you challenge me. I get you, and its an honor that I do. The life in you made mine more than worthwhile. Your ideals, very admirable but are sadly lost to forces that you allow in your life. Then you realize they don’t give a damn. Oh but I care, I really do. I miss your optimism. Even if life seems so far from being reached, just your presence makes me proud to be the person I’ve always known. You shaped me and made me strong, not realizing it until now that they took you away from me. I laugh becuase you taught me to. Besides, youre funny. I cry because of hurt, but all the other aspects of who you are would always wipe every tear and replace it with half-met dreams. That’s what you do. And you’re freakin good at it. You force me to hope, to admire and to be inspired. Even if nothing will ever become of you, as they all say, i trust that you are exactly who you are. No one will be better than who you’ve become to me. Screw all facts and statistics. I choose you because you’ve always made me happy. You’re timeless. Your beauty should be the only wonder in the world. Your character, priceless. It takes more than passion to love you without partiality.The rhythm and sound of your voice will forever echo in my ears. The environment you circle in will always feel positively familiar. your colors vivid and bright, never will they fade. The brown skinned people around you, I love dearly. Their warm spirited beings will always be above and beyond anyone’s standard of who is good. The work of your hands and ability to always RISE leaves me dumbfounded, always. You’re poor, but you’re joyful. You’re “weak” but always proud. You wow me, you really do. I miss you. I miss the feeling of having you around. It has been one full year, my dear. I will go back to you, I really will. I will see you soon my home, my love, my very own manila.

Recycled from March 27, 2007. I wrote this exactly one year after I left Manila to move here in LA. It gave me the chills reading it again. 2006 was the hardest year I had to go through to date. It’s so unnerving to even try to remember the events of that year. It was the biggest change I had to face and I wasn’t very welcoming about it, to say the least. I read through this and I feel absolutely unfamiliar with the angst, bitterness and zero freedom set in the words of old me writing this text. It just seems so ancient now. What I am still familiar with though, is the same love and unyielding respect I have always had for the place I call home. To this day, I still feel all of what I wrote in truth.

Today, March 27, 2011 marks my 5th year of living here. The first 2 years were excruciating, trust. But I appreciate this text even more because I now can see, in bold letters, the transition I had to go through and realize that in the here and now, I feel right about where I am and who I am. I finally feel free.

It’s a sweet kiss on the cheek knowing that I’ve come this far and I only have good things to say about my God who has carried me through this whole process. 

It is true, for all you migrants out there. It. Does. Get. Better.

What I can boast to you, the one who reads this, is that my love for Manila hasn’t left me. It has transcended into a different, deeper kind of love and that’s what keeps me grounded and humble, Creative in a lot of ways. It taught me everything I needed to know and will continue to be my point of reference for the lessons only time can teach.

Manila will always be constant. Even as I go through many more years of change, experience and opportunity away from home, it will always be inked in my kayumanggi skin.  You might not recognize the me I’ll become then but I promise you, talk about Manila and you will capture me in an instant. Yes you will. 

 “Sumasabay sa iyong pulso, bawat kilos alay sa kumpas ng iyong musika. Nayayanig sa’yong tinig tuwing tinatawid and kalsada…Sinasakyan and ritmo ng maynila. Kahit ano man ang mangyari…ikaw parin ang pipiliin.”

Recycle.

Its 12 midnight right now and I just finished watching Eat. Pray. Love. A lot of things have been said about that book/movie but I really don’t mind any of it. I love the book and I enjoy the movie. This blog was birthed from one of the concepts Elizabeth Gilbert touched on in that book. But that’s really not the point of this post. 

I will spare you just this one time ;)

After watching Liz go through the journey of finding herself, I just felt this recurring feeling of being more intentional with my creativity. Again, for the 5,375th time, I decided to make more effort in making this whole “thing” work. I’ve created this blog for that purpose, after all.

5 blog entries. FIVE. That’s all I’ve come up with since I started this blog. So much for effort, eh? Its so funny to me that when I had finally decided to take control of developing my creative process, I end up with NADA.

So then I had an instant epiphany. I decided to look back at all the things I’ve written in the past. I’ve had 3 (now defunct) blogs before this! How could I have forgotten? And so, for the last hour or so, I browsed through most of it and felt so alive. I was so enamored with the passion, perspective and humor this person had. Yes, It didnt even feel like it was me. It was the Denise from years ago that spoke and It was a different Denise that listened in the present. I couldn’t believe it. 

Its really wasn’t because it was excellent writing. Geez, not at all. It was only because I have forgotten how much I used to write before. And how much I loved it. I don’t even remember writing most of it. I cant imagine how I came up with all that I wrote in those moments, ohmygoodness. It feels so foreign to me now.

The point is this. I forgot. 

I forgot because I decided to forget. I forgot because I stopped dwelling in the things that gave me pure and simple joy.  I forgot what it means to let things be because I wanted/needed control in my life. I decided to move on with the bigger things in my “mature” life, that I purposely overshadowed the little things that matter.

RECYCLE is the word I’ve found today.

Sometimes creativity is best experienced through your past. Through revisiting your learnings and faults and realizing that you have now come this far. Its like Adobo. It tastes better with age. And I feel like this whole phase of “blahness” happened because I was so eager to move forward and create new material from the new experiences I WILL have and the new insights I WILL take in. Pffft. Yearight.

But see, It doesn’t happen that way. You will always be who you are. You will just change the way you embrace things but you will always know, in your heart and being, how you like your eggs cooked. You will always know what you’re allergic to. And you will always know the words to your favorite Backstreet boys song. Whether you like it or not. You will always know that part of you. Because it’s still you. That’s the part that remains constant. 

So now that I am in this quest, I will choose to look back and use all that was there to move forth. This just gets me excited. I’ve decided to recycle most of the writings I’ve done in the past to remind me of who I was then in order to see the kind of person I will soon become. Creativity is the accumulation of everything meaningful in your life. Its not a giant Etch-a-Sketch that erases a drawing to make room for new ones. How could I have missed this?

I can’t help but smile as I read my previous blogs in this hour of the night. Here I am feeling so incapable of producing anything worthwhile, not realizing that I was able to feel connected to the world then, when I wasn’t trying hard enough. I smile because I realize that right now is JUST a PHASE. I smile because I know that once upon a time, I was actually engaged, passionate and optimistic. And if I look back often enough to the Denise I know, and possibly learn from her, this phase might just be over sooner than I think.

Mixing the familiar with everything else will be better than the best Mojito you’ve had in your life. Try it.

Now, Let’s drink to that. Cheers to the old and new!

Rain.

I love the rain. I love the sound of it. I’m currently curled up in bed as I write this, listening to the drops trickle down my window. The combination of my clicking keys and the light drops of rain produce an awesome soundtrack to my Sunday. There is just something about it I appreciate. To me, the presence of rain slows down everything. It’s an inevitable way of nature forcing all our busy bodies to stop and perhaps, rest.

There is nothing you can do to control it. Nothing you can do to outsmart it. Its one of those things that you just allow to happen. It ruins your schedule, it ruins your plans, it even ruins your hair. But see, that’s the best part of it. It unknowingly shifts our gears that we are forced to deviate from routine. And that does not hurt sometimes.

When was the last time you felt that you were doing something intentional? When was the last time you enjoyed doing nothing?

The best moments of creativity happen in the nothingness of our lives. Its when we stop what we need to do to make way for what we want to do that the best versions of ourselves surface. Efficiency is not always key. The best moments of your life can come from not knowing what to do and what to expect. You know why? Because there is that magical feeling of wonder you experience upon going through the path of not knowing.

I am most creative when I am humble. I am humbled by what I don’t know and what I forget. Creativity is always about learning. Always.

Sometimes you just have to go with it. If unavoidable circumstances ruin your plans, take it as is. There is no need to fight. Embrace balance. My life hasn’t panned out the way I have planned it. There is so much more to know, to learn to achieve. Sure, it frustrates me a great deal but when things like this happen, I just know that my Creator is reminding to stop and realize that the best things in life… are not things.

Moments. Memories. These are the things that matter. Love. Laughter. Wisdom. We take part in the lives of others because we are created for this. We are fueled by relationships, fellowship. Opening your life to others so that they in turn, may open theirs to yours. Great relationships are great because we don’t plan for them to be amazing. Great stories likewise happen when we don’t plan it.   That’s why it’s a great story. The unexpectedness of it all brings us back to that magical feeling of wonder we tend to miss out the most when we get busy with life.

The rain reminds me of that. Whatever it is that I pursue in this world, it wont have any power in me as much as I have no control of rainstorms, earthquakes and even tsunamis. It’s so amazingly sobering to know that nature is bigger than me.  The only thing that I am really capable of is to respond to it with an open mind and a humble heart.

And now, as I continue to listen to the rain wash away the artificial junk of this city, I respond with a smile and say to myself, “You’re okay, Denise. You’re okay.” :) 

Katrina.

Creativity is a personal experience. It is deeply connected to who you are and who you become as you indulge in this stream of overflowing magic. It is one of those things that you don’t just learn, it is something that you have to deliberately own. If you don’t believe you are creative, no one else will either. Its an invisible layer of skin, if you will. Kinda like those fake tattoo sleeves you buy at Party City. Invisible because it’s not your duty to showcase it. Its something that becomes so natural that people see it on their own through who you are and not solely on what you do. It becomes a part of living not being so different from water, food and shoes (at least for me).  Creativity in so many ways is a spiritual journey. It’s the decision to be and remain connected to the Creator of everything beautiful. It’s the appreciation of and gratitude to the Design made for us to enjoy. It is unity with positivity and marriage with freedom.

Artists are just fascinating. This generation has produced and continues to produce so much great talent. Unbelievable. Fresh. Inspiring. There are so many people who can create great media nowadays. I’ve never been one of them. I may be gifted with a few things but the gifts I bear wouldn’t compare to what these guys can handle. I’ve always considered myself a creative person though. It’s a relationship I have nurtured with the world for a while now. It really is a way of thinking, a way of seeing things beyond what you actually see. Its like wearing those rad 3d glasses. You wear it and suddenly everything you see just becomes more real, more within your reach. Everything has meaning and every single situation has a story. 

A story. That’s what drives my creativity. I am a storyteller. I love stories because each one is its own. There are no rules, no guidelines. It is what it is and no one can argue against it.  I love the fact that everybody has one. You cannot not have a story. You just cant. You can choose to not tell it, robbing people’s chances to laugh, cry and be part of your experiences in life, but you will always have one.

A vision, a mission and a purpose will always be created from a story. And that’s what makes a person creative. Its what they have to say that fuels their creation. The finished product is called Art but the story behind it is birthed from the creator’s creativity.

For the last year, I have been on the quest to nurture this gift. It is a gift so it has been given, but I haven’t really learned to be intentional with it. It’s been such a tough and discouraging year, trying to find my own definition to this “creativity thing.” It was an emotional experience. A dark one almost. But I survived 365 days of it because of a story. A story of a person I know. I followed this story closely that it slowly unfolded to be my own.

Let me tell you a couple of things on creativity I’ve learned from my friend Katrina’s story.

I learned from her that creativity is a process you develop in silence. It is something you have to deal with on your own first before having an audience to share it with. Creativity is a battle. It’s a silent transformation you must entertain in your life. It’s the honesty and the acceptance of your story that creates in you a real open perspective of what life truly is. I have learned from her that it is a constant war with yourself. You have to make yourself believe that it is an insecurity you have to get over with every single waking day of your life. Creativity is winning over your doubts. In every instance that your gut tells you that someone else is better than you, the beauty of creativity assures you that its not about being better than someone else. It is enjoying the fact that you were able to create, to design, to speak up, to capture. Nobody else needs to know this. It is between you and yourself. And that’s where the real joy comes from. It’s a way of thinking that is not bound by law and physics. Its silently your own.

I’ve learned from her is that the most important step in completely embracing creativity is to forgive yourself. I realized that a huge reason why I struggled with creativity in the last year was because I was paralyzed by a bad decision I made in the past. I used to have a plan. A fine printed one. But it didn’t push through and I was left with nothing, back to where I started. “Expensive tuition in life” is what I would tell people when asked about it. I realized however that I haven’t completely forgiven myself for not being who I initially wanted to be. I allowed myself to be drowned by the negativity only I was capable of creating. I didn’t love myself, and I didn’t enjoy being who I was. Here I was getting so frustrated with my creative life, doubting if I was really cut out for this journey but didn’t really allow myself to get past that one huge, fat bad decision in the past. I was so conscious of getting out there to try new things because I  was terrified at the thought of failing again. Everything I did after that was anchored with that driving feeling. I lost touch with who I was, confused even, losing the confidence I once had. I was always sure of myself but this time I was living under the shadow of fear and regret not trusting my capability of doing something great. My ideas and my vision therefore sat in the shelf, dusty and stacked under a pile of unread books.

But something great happened. I just woke up one day feeling so mad at myself. I was blaming my stupid self for putting me through all this negativity. I was losing days, I was losing time. I was wasting my days not trying. I was missing out on so so much. And so, as the sun started to set on my 25^th birthday, I made a decision. I made a decision to take full responsibility of my creativity. I told myself that I wanted to be cool. Haha. Not in a cocky way but in a positive way. I wanted to recreate myself and stuff my face with positivity. The last year I spent sulking and being guilty for what I have done to myself didn’t get me anywhere. It just got me more zits, more pounds and an empty blog. I just didn’t want that life anymore. I didn’t want to be an outsider to this world of beauty. I wanted to be part of it, I wanted to be in it. I just wanted to learn how to love again, to live again and to be part of a creative community. I just wanted to really mean what I say again. I wanted to live intentionally. I wanted a new pair of 3d glasses.

This now brings me to talk about most important thing I’ve learned from Katre. I’ve learned from her that resilience, like creativity, is developed in silence. You wont have lots of big breaks in your life. That’s precisely why they call it BIG. These are rare opportune moments that define your artistic and creative process. Otherwise it would’ve just been termed “just breaks.” Mind you it is a process. And processes take time. Otherwise it would’ve just been termed “steps.” Sarcasm aside, any process requires patience. Lots of it. Gosh, I hate that P word. Guess what though, it’s the heart of it. When you wait for something, even if you’re irked to the bone while at it, it still means something to you because you are waiting to get to the end. This is why a mother and child relationship is special. Both parties wait approximately 9 months to finally meet each other. Every single day that they’re together, they wait. And it becomes more true because you create a strong silent bond through the patience of time.

Getting back up is a process. If it would have been easy to bounce back in any given situation, rehab centers would be out of business and Shrinks would one by one file for bankruptcy. What you will learn to love about it is that it happens in your own quiet moments. You’re allowed to do it whichever way you want, take as much time as you need to heal and allow yourself to grieve. You need not explain anything to anyone and no one’s opinion will really matter in the end. What matters is that you go through it. Nothing worth it is easy.

To me, fear is a big deal. I struggle with it every freakin day. It is a force. Everyday, my fears get in the way with the little things and I realized that I haven’t completely learned the art of getting over them. I have learned through Katrina’s life that the presence of fear most of the time is a true sign that you are in the right path. She tells me constantly to “Do it afraid.” That is one of the rawest things I’ve ever heard her say. Raw enough that I remember it everyday. When you pursue big and mighty things and find no such fear in yourself as you do it, re-asses my friend. You might not be as engaged in your initial purpose as you think.  I’ve learned from Jim Paredes (yes him!), that Hate is not the opposite of love. Fear is. It is the fear of losing something or someone you love that scares the crap out of everyone. This is why fear is a prerequisite to love. It is key. You don’t love something or someone and not experience the fear tied into it. You don’t know how meaningful it is until you are threatened to lose it. Creativity is no less the same thing. When you engage yourself in something worthy, something bigger than you, you will be in love enough to be afraid.

Resilience is another term for the ability to recoil. You wouldn’t feel the need to bounce back if you didn’t experience great fear. You love once, you fear losing it, you lose it, then you get back in the game and learn to love again. That is just how this process works. Only in your own sincere silence will this process be realized.  (And this is why reality TV ruins marriages. Just a thought.) In the real world, you really have no time to explain yourself. Not everyone will listen and not everyone will understand. But heck, it’s your story and your story alone. Deal with it yourself and then the world will just learn how to deal with it too.

I learned all of these from Katrina. I saw this in her life. I saw her get past her mistakes and I saw her react. I saw her do something about it. I learned from her that if you say something and mean it, and say it again and again until you truly believe it, it does become who you are. 

Katre, I want to thank you for teaching me all these things. You shared kind and good words to me, words I will never forget but its mostly the silent support you have given me over the years that makes you an important part of this quest I am at. Thank you for always listening, for never judging and for always believing. I really honestly wouldn’t have done it without you. You were the single person, I repeat, the single ONE who knew exactly where I was in my journey. And you will be the first one to know if I make it our there someday.

In the effort to find my word, I choose the word KATRINA. Creativity would have been a good one to define all that this is, but your name is a close equivalent to how I feel about it.

I look up to you, Happy birthday, my dear, dear friend.

***

I have been writing this since your birthday, Katre. I stopped because I couldn’t find the right words. Until you emailed me. Oh that freakin amazing email. And then the words just came. I didn’t want to rush it, I thought I’d post this only when I knew it was the right time.

Cathy.

If you ever come across this character, beware. She is a riot. Her imagination runs at the speed of lightning needing to pee. She is contagious. Her smile? Oh her smile. Don’t even look in her direction. Once you lock eyes with her, she will own you. Once you get to talk to her, this Cathy, she will make you feel so at home and engage you in her world. You will subconsciously dig a hole you can’t get out of.  AT ALL. I am warning you folks. This woman, this sweet sweet woman will get to you. She settles, she makes her way in your life like a thick blanket you wrap around your body during rainy Sunday naps. And did I mention she is beautiful?

“Oh crap.” You’d find yourself saying that, realizing how easy it is to fall in love with her.

I met her when we were awkward teenagers. I can say without hesitating though that we grew up together. Not in the amount of years, sure. But she has been in my life during the defining times. The ones that actually counted.  Even then, it was never hard for me to see through her.  She had this innocence that defined mostly who she was. She was always the last to know, having that face of amazement at the new things she’d hear and learn. I still remember that face. Cathy in a word is Genuine. Probably the most genuine person I will ever know in my lifetime. Unmatched.

It was so great growing up with her. Every single moment was just honest fun. We would have sleepovers, unforgettable ones, and learn the “Do a Deer, female deer” choreography by Julie Andrews and the Vontraps. We shared everything together.  It was so easy being myself to her. There weren’t moments of pressure to please her and the I’ve never felt the need to be pleased by her. She was completely enough for me.

Rare are the people you know you will share your life with, even in the presence of setbacks. But Cathy, oh Cathy, that sweet sweet girl will be one of those who I will call when I’m 28 and say “Cathy, kape tayo. Kelangan ko lang.” Call when I’m 30 and say “Cathy, I’ve so many decisions to make. Ano sa tingin mo?” Call when I’m 43 and say “Cathy, I need a break from everything, Salsa tayo.” Call when I’m 49 and say “May sinigang dito. Mainit pa. Kain tayo.” Call when I am 67 and say, “Cathy, can you come over? Kwentuhan tayo.”

Like I said, she’s been there during the defining times. And she will be there, I’m sure, during the not so extravagant ones as well. I can only be excited for the future of this friendship!

There are so many things I’d like to say to her now. To say that we need to catch up is the greatest understatement ever. But nah, why don’t we save it? By 67, we will have a LOT of time. After all, she is one of my favorite storytellers to date. I am excited. Oh I think I already said that.

Thank you for being the talented you that you are. You never fail to surprise me with the things you can do with your imagination. People are just enamored by you and that’s not unusual at all. Worlds apart now, it seems but who cares? As long as I can write, I will write about you. As long as I can speak, I will speak great things about you.

Now that you’re 24, maybe I’ll call you and say “O Cathy, long veil ba or short?” Happy happy birthday :)

Cathy. One word. Knowing you and being inspired by you contributes to my creative process. You are one of the reasons why I am in this quest. Thank you very much.  

Fall.

It is gloomy outside. Gray is the color of the day.  On the street, you start to see people wear their coats and boots, walking with their hands tucked in their pockets. I feel this certain warmth in my heart, I really do. Or maybe my sweater is just working its wonders. I have been in a good mood since Tuesday. Monday was the last day the summer sun perched on our skins. It was his final time to shine. Unexpectedly, I woke up to a very chilly and dark Tuesday. I smiled and quietly said to myself “At last autumn, I have been waiting for you.”

There is something about the cold seasons that make me feel warm inside. I feel at home during these times. Summer is fun, sure. It’s just not my season, period.  Besides the perks of Fall fashion and dressing up, it stirs up so much creativity in me. Everything seems more poetic (I refuse to use the word melancholic to prove my point) more engaged, emotional even.

Since moving here 4 years ago, I have learned to love this season and anticipate it every single year. The weather is one thing, the creative aspect another but the sentiments really come from memories.

Fall 2006. My family and I moved here in the US on March ’06. (Spring) I hated everything about living here. I wasn’t ready to leave home, and I wasn’t able to say a sincere goodbye to what I left behind. I didn’t feel the need to replace what home was to me for this rich and abundant land. It was difficult for me to embrace change when I felt that nothing needed mending anyway. I was homesick, angry, stubborn and bitter that I was here in this country instead of being in the company of family and friends where the word HOME actually really mattered.

It was during the Fall season following that Spring that I got my first taste of living like an American. I was getting used to my job, gaining new friends and getting a hang of the system. I was after all a single female in her early 20’s licensed to have fun. I bought whatever I wanted, did whatever, tried whatever and went wherever. I had that “Because I can!” snicker painted all over my face.

Didn’t realize that I was doing this to deliberately make my Dad feel that “this is what you caused your daughter to be, taking her out of the place she called home and bringing her to a place where YOU thought would be better.” I had countless fights with my dad everyday about how disrespectful I’ve become. Ugh. Ugly Denise.

Gained every inch of freedom but lost every sense of humility I had in one single season.

The point is this. Fall has always reminded me of transition. It was at this time that I first realized that every decision I make is not a means of me to get back at my parents for whatever hurt I’ve accused them of causing. I realized that every decision I made, affected ME. No one else. It was a phase in my life when I first understood that I had sole responsibility of my actions, my growth and my direction. Nothing I did will change my parents’ lives. Everything has consequences now. I have to grow up.

And just as the weather transitions from all out sun to full blankets of gray, the contrast of my childish ways to realizing that I had to take ownership of my life, my freedom included, became dead clear.

It was also during the fall of 2008 where another big transition took place. It was a spiritual ride of sorts. Going from super highs to major, major lows. It was, in sum, my most darkest days.

But fall doesn’t bookmark my bad experiences. It in fact reminds me of the beauty of necessary change. Everything that caused hurt and pain during those Fall months, were necessary for me to see a vision. A vision so clear, I knew it could only come from the Lord. (Will talk about this said vision little by little as this blog goes by :D)

Fall reminds me of the feeling of starting over. Having the privilege of starting anew, with a clean slate.  Just like how it made me feel able, even when I was feeling so insecure of not being in my turf, it is liberating. Just as how fall in 2008 gave me the confidence to believe that anything I decide to do can be done, as long as it is seasoned with hard work and guts, it heals.

To “FALL” is not so scary after all. So I’ve learned. Why? Because things get better anyway after that first initial scare. Its not the fall that matters, its how you land that determines the outcome of things. It’s mostly bad, I admit. But we eventually learn the proper way to land so as to not get our knees or butts smashed when we finally reach hard land.

All these being said, I still can’t fully explain why I have fallen in love with fall. All I know is that, I feel the embrace of a new season.  For the next coming months, all the layers of clothing wrapping my skin will comfort me like a constant feeling of an embrace. I can snuggle in bed, with a good book at hand, feeling that I am not alone in this. I have a God who loves me, a family who I adore and countless opportunities to grow.

On a trivial note, September Issues in magazines are the best. It is a big deal to the magazine world because it showcases such huge transition in style and design. It is so grand that I feel like they let the summer issues slip away, using it as buffers as they prepare for the big hit.

My own September issues are always the best. I breeze through the hot months, and really experience the learning, the discovering and everything in between in the cold months. I am excited for what new things I will get a hold of this season.

Were just gonna have to keep turning the pages to see. Well, folding and bookmarking your favorite pages will be allowed too. =]

* Who am I kidding? I just love this season only for the purpose of indulging in Hot Choco every so often. Blame it on Mr. Fall. It always works. Haha!

Word.

I’ve always been fascinated with Libraries. Don’t even get me started. I think the main reason why this is so is because I am drawn to books. The reason why I loooove books is because more that anything, I am fascinated with words. I’ve always loved words. Written and spoken. I am a born talker. I cannot breathe in life without playing with my words to describe it.

Nothing in this world will ever be meaningful without words. One may feel the most extinguished emotion ever, but without words it cannot be shared. A concept or idea is only as good as how it is received. Without this said reciprocation through words, these things are just but mere thoughts floating without meaning.

I don’t believe in making New Year’s resolutions. I don’t believe in creating a list over my life because I don’t want to hate myself later if I don’t get to check off all of the items completely. Every year however, I believe in pursuing a trait, a concept or a lesson. I try to make it simple and direct yet meaningful so I find a single word to encapsulate the driving theme. Three years ago, it was Discipline. The year that followed, it was Love. This year it is Creativity.

I’ve been doing this word of the year thing for the last three years and it has really helped define my passions and my disappointments. I never thought that using this same perspective would help me navigate through my creative identity. The genius that is Liz Gilbert, author of “Eat. Pray. Love.” wrote about this beautifully. She was saying something about how people mostly define their current state through words. An adjective, a noun, a verb. Anything that sort of tells your current story. New York’s word for example is Achieve. LA, screams the word Ambition. Rome’s word of course is Sex. This made perfect sense to me, this whole word theory of hers. A lot of times, in phases I go through, the only way I can pin down an emotion or a lesson to it is through using words. Reading this made my heart jump. She explained it in a way that I felt she knew my heart. When I read it, I knew that this was my cue to start writing again. Ergo, this blog.

I’ve gone through major changes in my life this past year. There are things that I’m defining and discovering and there are tons of things to change. I’ve gone through a year of pursuing something I thought I wanted but didn’t, it turns out. I’ve gone through 6 months of breathing after that, trying to recuperate from all the frustration and disappointment of a bad choice. Depression is a word I never wanted to be associated with. It strikes in many forms. People don’t notice that they go through it because SUBTLE it sure is. I knew I succumbed to this taboo state because I just completely stopped doing anything creative. Stopped reading for fun. Stopped taking pictures. Stopped writing. The danger with this is that it affects all aspects of who you are. As minor as it seems, it does happen to a lot people. The absence of what you are passionate about in your life can and will dry you up. This personal famine will change who you are for the worse, if you’re not careful. You will find fault and offense in anything and everything and it will be hard for you to feel secure with your own self. This is very true and you know it.

Yikes, scary scary eeky stuff.

So now I intend to write as I rediscover the creativity that once was in me. Asking the question, “Who am I, really?” as I go through this quest for absolute creativity. How?

I will find myself through finding my word.

It’s a drag getting to that place. I don’t even know where that place is. All I know is that its taking forever to even come close to the gutter of where X marks the spot. I know it might take time. And the temptation of waiting most of the time is the growing feeling of having nothing. But the Lord didn’t design me for nothing. Surely there is something in my hands that I can work with. You and I might not realize it, but we have so much in us that will enable us to reach out and make change happen. I may not have the resources to carry out my God intended vision, but I do have my story. And as long as I have the words to use to tell that story, my hands are more than full.

And so I will write. And I will write as I learn. Write as I laugh. Write as I eat. And Write as I absorb my days. I will write because it is my responsibility to make my story count. And I will do that by going through every single day and adventure…

One.

Word.

At.

A.

Time.