Alone time

Stranger reading under a tree, Murray Hill park, Montreal

Photo by: C. Mercado

It has been two weeks since my girls left for their summer hols. I have been on my own for most of this time, and I discovered something extraordinary: I actually LOVE my solitude!


This is all really new for me. While I used to cherish the few times I was on my own in the past, I have always been surrounded by people. My recollection of the last time I was truly alone was when Kara went to a school trip for a weekend. Otherwise, there are always different folks in my life.


The wonderful thing about being on my own is that I am not responsible for anyone but myself. And I can tell you that this is BLISS, even if it is only for a short while. For the past two weeks, my mornings are always unhurried, I wake up lazily while letting myself feel how lucky I am to be alive, and prepare myself to face a new day. I sometimes take a bit of time after I get up to do a bit of yoga, stretch my limbs and open my mind.


I savour my cup of tea and biscuit , very often in complete silence with only my thoughts for company. It is amazingly refreshing to explore new ideas in the morning. For me, each dawn comes with a new resolution, whether it is just being calm for the day and to go with the flow, or realise that certain decisions have to be made. I have never really enjoyed my imposed solitary life more than in the mornings when I am just awash with new and positive feelings. It is always during this time when I have clarity of purpose for some things in my life.


My day does not often end up the way I want it. But in the recent months, I have also realised that even the best laid plans can go awry, I am sure everyone will agree.


The evenings are even better. The last few days have seen me savouring all the different events the city has to offer. Outdoor concerts, dinner out with friends, or plainly just hanging with people I like. I get home feeling quite good about myself. The strange thing is there have been a number of times when I did not feel like being with anyone, and wanted to hurry home and just be on my own, curl up on my comfortable chair and read.


I have even surprised myself by actually letting life just carry me, and I marvel at how when I let go of things, these somehow become easier to bear. With this I also realise with certainty that this is where I am meant to be at this specific place and time, and it is not too bad. I have learned to roll with the punches, and I am definitely teaching myself to better appreciate me, myself and my needs.


I know that may sound very selfish, but I found out that when my needs are clear, I am in a better position to know what I truly want and go for what I can get. I also find that nowadays, I am often very demanding about this aspect of my life. While I do not want to come across as very onerous and difficult, I do think that the people who truly value me in their lives will give me the respect and allow me to express what I sincerely want, and try to accommodate this. I say this because I do the same for people who are important to me too.


I also find that when I love myself enough, I am able to give more to those I care about. At the same time, I also allow myself to accept love and cherish it.


When I love myself enough, I can also easily say to myself, "hey, you are not too bad, in fact, you are quite something!" and believe it.

Haiku

Twilight quickly fades..
I taste your skin on mine lips..
I’m lost forever.











Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Photo: C. Mercado

Shapeshifters

Mystique of X-Men

Photo courtesy of : http://xmen.ugo.com/

I am fascinated by some comic book characters who can change shapes. Metamorphose into another physical being, either a different person or an animal. When I was a child I read a lot of comic books and fairy tales. Escape into the world of fantasy was something I loved doing. I read X-Men, Fantastic Four, Superman, all the superheroes who were normal people during their normal lives but change into powerful beings when they needed to save the down trodden.

While the idea of shapeshifting is more prominent in mythology and folklore rather than reality, I feel that we humans are shapeshifters ourselves. Perhaps not in a truly physical sense, but the fact that we can be different personalities in front of different people, is a form of changing oneself. Teenagers are the perfect examples. They can be smiling and happy at one given moment, and suddenly change completely into a total stranger even in front of our very eyes.

Each of may have had similar experiences ourselves. Isn't it odd that we feel very happy in front of other people, then when someone who we are not very comfortable appears, we feel like we are being transformed into another person? Our eyes glaze over, we feel angry and annoyed, or just distant, somehow we are overtaken by another personality, and we wonder where the other one went.

This is what draws me to the subject. Is this transformation voluntary, or does it happen without us being aware of it? Surely even these temporary changes in personality have a reason? Maybe sometimes we want to hide our real selves, and in so doing involuntarily acquire the qualities of the person totally our opposite. It can be very disconcerting at times, to be in a state where one feels that there is some "acting" going on, and even if one is aware of it, the situations seems to be beyond the person's control.

Have you ever been in a situation where the consequences made you ask, "Who was that person? Surely that wasn't me, I would not have acted in such a manner?"

In the X-Men, Mystique transformed into someone familiar to her enemy, to get close, to be able to do something without the other person being aware of it until too late. In the TV series Heroes, one character was also a shapeshifter, she took on the faces of her enemies as well, pretend they are someone they are not. When Sylar stole her powers, he used it to his advantage, he pretended to be Nathan after he destroyed him, and in doing so opened up many possibilities for him to exact revenge on his enemies.

Have you had similar experiences yourself? Something for you to think about over the weekend!

Thunderstorm

Photo courtesy of :earthobservatory.nasa.gov/.../2005011118157.html

My daughter Kara had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. As we drove to the hospital, the sun was shining brightly and it looked like the beautiful weather will continue until the evening. There is a bit of a walk to get to the doctor's offices, the parking lot being on the other side. No more than perhaps 200 meters. Well, the building is, but the block where the office is located is a maze of underground corridors and lifts, and it took us a while to get used to it.

As we sat in the doctor's office waiting for him to finish his notes of the consultation, I could see heavy rainclouds gathering on the horizon, moving faster towards where we were. Kara and I looked at each other, the sky looked like it would open up any minute, and we did not really want to get caught in the downpour! Thankfully, the doctor also got up to shake our hands and wish us a happy summer, afterwhich we both hurried to get to the car.

When we stepped out of the building, there was still a bit of sun, and I was trying to make my daughter walk faster, since I could feel a drop or two of rain. She was not worried, but as we got closer to the parking lot, it really poured, and we had to run the last 20 meters to the car but we were already quite wet by then, almost drenched to the skin but not quite.

We laughed and giggled as we settled into the warmth of the car! It is very seldom that we get wet in the rain. We were both quite thrilled and excited over this experience. You see, there is a Filipino belief that if you get rained on, you will fall sick. I have always been wary of getting wet in the rain although I love it from indoors. In my whole life, I could probably count with my fingers the number of times I was actually out wet in the rain, without a brolly. Five max, I swear!

The heavens clearly seemed to want to empty all their misery, is all I can say since it was really pouring, and thunder and lightning followed its wake.

I love thunderstorms. I love it especially at night when I am cuddled up in my warm bed. The sound of thunder and the flash of lightning evokes memories of the song "My Favourite Things" from the Sound of Music. When the kids were small, we used to all huddle under the sheets together. I get scared of them too, but have to be brave for the smaller ones!

It is nature's light and sound show.

I always wonder how it would be like to step out into one, to feel almost one with nature raging all around you. The beauty of thunderstorms is that while these can be very destructive when bad ones really hit, those quick and fast ones are always a sight to behold.

Today, I sat by the window and watched.. for a little while.. and thought about my own inner thunderstorms. I realised that the strength of my emotions can sometimes get the better of me, but when these wane, it always signals better days to come!

Haiku

Flickering candlelight
threw shadows on the blue walls
when I fell in love.






Photo by: Nirmal Ghosh

Rock the Casbah!

Sunday night's concert was a very fitting end to the 28th Montreal International Jazz Festival. Rachid Taha in person, au plein air. Have a look at the touching review on how he rocked the house down!


It was a cool night. The cab driver who brought me to the corner of St. Catherine and Bleury wondered loudly whether summer had passed us by, since it had been raining the last few days and there were scattered rainshowers the whole afternoon. I was in fact wondering whether I needed an umbrella, since the evening's forecast was for more rain. I was saying a silent prayer to hopefully keep those dark clouds away, since I did not want it to ruin the final show!


As I walked towards the Scene General Motors (the main stage) on St. Catherine at Place des Arts, people were already spilling out of the sidewalks, and I wondered how I would find my friend Ruth in this crowd! Thank goodness for cellphones! While waiting, I was trying to figure out the best way to get closer to the stage, to at least be at some vantage point where we could see what was happening.


Ruth finally came with about half an hour left to spare. We jostled and pushed our way through a very polite crowd, I must say, and braved standing on what we knew was the pathway to the exit. We tried to push ourselves to the side, and for some reason got through to the barrier and decided this was the best place: close to the exit path with lots of fresh air, and bit of space to dance. Well, the last bit was a bit of a dream, there was just about enough room to wiggle, and if one tried belly dancing, it was certainly a challenge!


While I have listened to Rachid Taha's music, this is my first time to see him perform live. As the clock ticked closer to 9:00 pm, there was an electricity going through the crowd, and the palpable anticipation of a good time. Beer overflowed, many young men with large trays of glasses and glasses of Heineken were weaving their way around the crowds since no one could navigate to any of the make shift bars close by, for fear of losing precious floor space!


After the usual introductions, Rachid appears on stage, with the strains of Summertime on the trumpet, and this Algerian activist and rock icon brought the whole house down. It was a hot evening with rai, techno and other beats emanating from the stage, and obviously people could not help but dance to the rhythms! And when they played a classic from the Clash "Rock the Casbah", his version, Mick Jones, an ex-Clash guitarist was there to lend a hand, and I can tell you, the whole crowd was wild!


We did not realise how big the crowd really was until we left the venue at around 11:00 pm, when the party was still in full swing, but the concert was on its last song. All the streest around the Place des Arts wwere packed with people, content to watch the whole concert on the wide screens that were around. I wish I had my camera!


The Jazz Festival is over for this year, and I still wished I could have seen more of it. I missed Manu Chao, Angelique Kidjo, Bob Dylan and even Nikki Yanofsky, a 13-year old Montrealer who can scat like there is no tomorrow.


But this week, the African music festival starts, and it promises to be an interesting week again! Let us hope that the weather holds and gives us some sun, to make the open air concerts more enjoyable!


In the meantime, I leave you with a YouTube version of Rock El Casbah from Rachid Taha to show you what you've missed.

Inspiration

something red along Westmount Avenue, Montreal

photo by: C. Mercado

It is funny how I get brainwaves from anything. These could be lyrics of a song, or even just the song title. Sometimes the weather provides me with ideas. In a few instances, snippets of conversation, or even a word in a discussion makes me think of writing something. A memory, a familiar glance, a picture, these flashes of inspiration at any time makes me reach into my deep bag to to unearth the little notebook I carry with me for these purposes exactly. I scribble a few words for fear of losing them, because this has happened to me many times, where I compose beautiful prose in my head, and forget them just as promptly as these words come together.

Inspiration comes in many forms, and we see these differently as individuals, since often they reflect our own experiences and our unique view of life. The word itself is seen to be positive, often conjuring happy images... Saying "I have an inspiration" or "I am inspired" quickly projects that one has something quite important to tell, something wonderful to share.

But does inspiration always have to be positive? While these may bring a acceptable outcomes in the sense that thinking about something makes one more sensitive to emotions, can't we also have insights to do something that could make other people listen up and take note, albeit not in a nice happy way?

I like to think that I always feel inspired. Even when I am sad, I am inspired to think of happy thoughts, to lift my spirits up. Isn't that an odd thing to say? I hear the strings of a familiar song, and I feel compelled to write something about it. I see a beautiful sunrise or sunset and the urge to capture it in a photograph is so strong. A sad memory drifts through my mind, and I become even more convinced to just let the feeling wash, the pain stay and feel it, deeply.

Is this inspiration?

As I sit here writing about this, one thought occurs to me: what would be the opposite of inspiration. Desperation? Does the word convey enough of total discouragement?

Think about it and let me know.

Poetry

Bako National Park

Nomad

weary feet, aching arms, take me home, please….
around the world, he goes around in circles
seeking yet never finding,
wanting but wary of having,
he who tries too hard never gets it.

while she waits… stalls, bides her time.
“stick around,” he says…"i like being with you"...
she wonders why..

she still wonders why.

Not a typical haiku

I, the little child,
Barefoot, laughing in the wind,
Sun-kissed face, hands outstretched... catch!

Le petit Julien
Photo copyright: Jon Higgins

Hellos and goodbyes

Cristina and me, at her farewell dinner

I hate goodbyes. Last weekend I just said goodbye to a beautiful and amazing woman who became a friend in the past year I have lived in this city. We clicked immediately when we met, she actually remembered that we had seen each other earlier, about 2 years ago in Bangkok where we were at the same meeting. She has gone back to Nairobi, our headquarters and we don't know when we will be in the same city once more, breathing the same air.

I will miss her, miss having coffee each morning and just yearn for those moments whe we sit and chat and talk about life, over a glass of wine. She somehow always knew if I was not feeling okay, perhaps a little depressed for personal reasons, or just feeling out of sorts. I will definitely look for these in the next few days and weeks and perhaps the next few months

The trouble is, because of the nature of my job where I tend to move around countries for assignments, hellos and goodbyes are a characteristic part of my life. Well, I guess it is for most people too. But there are friends out there who remain friends despite the distance, and these I cherish very much. There are also those who promise eternal friendships yet these remain just words and cannot even keep in touch. I try to keep them at arms length, maybe as natural way of shielding myself from being hurt.

I have lived in four countries in the past 44 years. The travel and the excitement never wanes for me, but the adjustments are never easy. I have to say that luck has always been at my side that I never really had a hard time adjusting to the new places I find myself in. I always manage to find wonderful homes and good neighborhoods to live in, and seem to find it easy going around. Even different languages do not really deter me. These can be daunting at first, I have to admit, but I always keep an open mind.

But the attachments and the friendships I form are the most rewarding of all these. A colleague once told me that she tries to become less attached to the new people in new places because she does not like feeling sad when she leaves again. I guess sometimes I feel the same way too, but I think that defeats the purpose of personal interaction. Sadness is an inevitable consequence of happiness, and vice versa. Such is life. I cannot imagine my life without the richness that all these different friends have brought into it. I will not allow myself to be superficial with people I meet and like just because I am scared of leaving, and being potentially depressed when we part. I just will not.

I move around the world gathering memories, embracing the differences and similarities that I have with these people, giving and taking affection and love, expressing honesty and openness, just giving a little bit of me because what I receive is much, much more. And when we are full, we tend to give more and more back because there is just so much to share.

I am who I am because of these experiences and I would not trade it for anything in the world, even if eventually I will have to say goodbye.

But come to think of it, when we say good bye to someone, the next time we meet we will have to say hello, isn't that a wonderful feeling to anticipate?

Haiku

Bask in sun drenched me
You, only you my dearest
My soul aches for you

Angkor, Cambodia

Photo copyright: C. Mercado

The Interview

Bob the Bear, himself

I have been fascinated by this blog interview stuff. It reveals things about our blogger friends that we did not know, and often they make for interesting discoveries! I was put in the hot seat by Chewy in my post Unravelling Me (well, I volunteered, but...), and I was fortunate to have Bob the bear ask to be interviewed!

It is not easy writing interview questions for a bear, but I thought I would try anyway. After sending these by email, I received a response from Bob's mum really worried that little Bob would find the questions "too grown up". As I was getting ready to draft more "bear appropriate" ones, I got another email telling me that the cheeky little bear found his way to the questions and answered them as is!

Believe me, it makes very interesting reading, so please if you want to learn more about a little bear and his philosophy in life, visit Bob T. Bear's Diary. I can assure you enjoyment in learning about this little nose hugging bear!