Thu, 23 May 2024 10:08:44 -0400WeeblyWed, 22 May 2024 13:23:59 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/authenticity-with-prideAfter all the cheering and singing, I have learned to embrace the sixties with pride. Since sixty is the new forty I'm glad as forty has always been my favorite age.

The higher number reflects nothing but a win at the game of life. It means constantly bouncing back to the highs after the lows, no matter how difficult or how long it takes, and later learning how to gain peace from the experience. It also takes the skill of accepting what is and never forgetting to laugh at the absurdities around us, while allowing yourself to be a little crazy no matter what others think.

Last but not least, living well needs constant praying for grace to have the time to do what my heart dictates, which is what my soul needs.


]]>Fri, 25 Aug 2023 16:01:40 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/my-lil-divaIt was long overdue, our carefree lunch/chat/shopping date. The four and a half hours passed us by too quickly we couldn't do everything we wanted but..."it was a fun day," Olivia reported to her mom and dad.
As soon as I picked her up, I decided to drive to the nearest mall. Our first stop was Barnes and Noble (as I've expected). I followed her lead towards the Harry Potter section. Hey eyes were twinkling as she browsed through the collection of books and memorabilia. Snacks at the small cafe inside this cozy bookstore. She chose our table, the first one in a row with our backs turned away from the line of customers. I bought two cookies as they were sold for half price on the second cookie. She savored the chocolate chip piece while playing with her HP wand with intense fantasy. I interrupted with my camera clicking to capture her innocence.

"Lola, I'd love to see the elegant puppies." Suppressing my real feelings about puppies (or dogs in general) I expressed my eagerness to see them too, by sharing her childlike awe for these cute creatures. Twenty minutes of total admiration for the display, the facial expressions, and their outfits was spent well in this store.

"Do you like DIY yogurt?" I asked encouragingly.

"Not really but I love ice cream. Oh there's the Häagen-Dazs!"

"Ok, we'll have that for our dessert. But first, lunch."

There was not a crowd at the Cheesecake Factory at two in the afternoon so we crossed the mall street.

"I'm in the mood for grilled cheese." Olivia looked hungry as she read the kids' menu. This time I craved for greens and fruits. Fresh OJ matched hers for strawberry lemonade.

As we walked to find our parked car, we passed by It'sOnlySugar store. The bag-it-yourself sampling style of buying was a sure trick for us! M&M's, chocolate covered raisins, and gummy bears all in one bag. I walked faster this time to start the AC in the car.

"Where do we go next, lola?" I looked at my watch and it was past three. I didn't have the heart to burst her bubble. I drove to another mall heading east. As I awkwardly looked for the entrance, a heavy downpour came down from nowhere. Thankfully, a covered parking lot was easy to find.
Leisurely we both walked in to a quiet mall.

"Just lead me to the store you like." It was brave for me to say that.

"I know where Miniso is." Olivia walked confidently.

"Awww, look at all these!' I shared her delight and childlike wonderment which for me lasted only until I saw the price tags. But I wanted to hold on to her joy.

"Lola, is $19 expensive?" I didn't quiet know how to answer her question. So I encouraged her to look more at other sections after we both spent five more minutes squeezing the chubby toys.

"Oh look what I found!" This time, I felt some relief looking at her smiling face. She proudly carried her Cinnamoroll basket and lunch box for her sister as we ran under the canopy to avoid the heavy rain.



]]>Tue, 16 May 2023 16:13:07 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/a-promise-to-my-motherToday, images of my beloved mother are more alive than ever. In one of our late-night conversations, she had told me that she was living vicariously through me whenever I sang on stage. I felt so privileged. The most highlighted moment for her was when she was seated front row center at a performing arts theater, watching my debut solo performance in South Florida. Sadly, that was her first and last time to watch me sing in a full concert. A year later she fell ill.

For years my mother shared how she felt about me doing a solo performance in my hometown with my siblings being involved. Her face lit up as she talked about her vision of it and loved what she saw, so she made me promise to make it happen. She believed that I could accomplish what she had not in her lifetime. I remember making the decision to leave home to handle all details of production, from auditioning local artists, hiring support staff, shopping for printing shops, renting rehearsal venues, directing rehearsals, to editing program content. This process took over three months to complete. Despite the lack of conveniences and technical resources, I miraculously persevered in my pursuit of creating a musical experience I’d always wanted to share with my audience. My mother’s vision became mine and was 'begging' to come out as a reality.

On December 1, 2018, a year after my mother passed away, The Singing Poet concert was staged at the historic auditorium of Universidad de Sta. Isabel, my Alma Mater. That evening I stepped out from the dark backstage to the blinding lights realizing that I was about to share my most profound performance yet as an artist.  
 

]]>Mon, 20 Mar 2023 15:25:43 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/a-slow-goodbyeI have finally seen the much-awaited light! The dark period of isolation caused by the pandemic restrictions is gone. I have done what I had promised myself I would do since the year 2020, when my childhood memoir was published, and that is to celebrate my book and tell my story both as a writer and as singer before an audience. With a growing number of followers in the U.S., Canada, Germany, the Netherlands, India, South Korea, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds of copies of In The Typhoon’s Eye have been purchased and read within a period of two weeks. Copies have been welcomed in public and university libraries to be offered to students as recommended literary readings representing the local culture.

Sharing my childhood story with as many readers as I can reach seems out of place at a time when global changes are happening rapidly not only due to the recent pandemic but also to political conflicts among several nations. Here I am, an unknown poet and artist, striving hard to keep my fire lit and stay inspired as I hope to inspire others. By writing and sharing true-to-life stories, I believe I am able to offer my readers something of value.
Having lived in four different countries and visited more than 50 cities in the EU and Asia, I have totally embraced the expat’s lifestyle. To say that my experience has been enriching and exciting is an understatement. Learning foreign cultures, meeting people of different values and customs, and making meaningful friendships have helped me shape an expanded view of the world. They are invaluable gifts that I will treasure for life.

As my days here in Frankfurt slowly dwindle down, my thoughts become more and more reflective on what it would be like to return to my adopted homeland after living overseas for the last eighteen years. I fill my vision with images of timeless beauty rendered by the timber houses that stand proudly in the city’s Old Town, knowing fully well that soon they will no longer be part of my daily scene. Sudden surges of poignant feelings come over me as I savor my last few days walking around in my quiet neighborhood. The soon-to-be memory of my beloved city wraps itself tightly around me like a cozy, warming me up against the wintry chill.

]]>Wed, 22 Feb 2023 08:22:45 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/celebrating-meToday, an unusual thought comes to mind: "I want to celebrate myself! Why not?"

As a child growing up and through decades of being an adult, my strong upbringing and culture have instilled in me a trait that has subconsciously guided and influenced my behavior towards myself. That trait is modesty, with humility as a virtue attached to it, the true meaning of which was severely obscured, as how I've experienced it. It made me timid to the point of being emotionally paralyzed, whenever the opportunity to assert my original ideas or show my special talents, arose. It allowed me to feel intimidated as louder voices muted my own. At some point, I realized that this attitude did not serve me well on the practical aspects of life. It has taken me years to undo its effects on me. I certainly did not pass it on to my children. It took me many years to raise my awareness to the point where I was able to allow myself to shine, at the right time. My self-doubt has slowly but surely eroded. I have learned not to minimize my self-worth, if only to please others. I've learned how to remain modest without being timid. Now I can express pride in my work and accomplishments with all humility. Because timidity doesn't equal humility. Humility is being truthful to myself, accepting of my strengths and flaws.

It's overwhelmingly joyful to see how my realizations have led me to my personal success.


]]>Tue, 14 Feb 2023 18:50:15 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/to-be-a-childTo be a child...is to be in awe, to laugh, be silly, be carefree, be pleasantly surprised, to believe, to trust, to dream, to be in love....and so much more. I find it meaningful to be all of these, but most importantly because I'm able to share the same world where my grown children and grandchildren live. We always find each other in this happy place.
Years ago, Steve and I started giving each other gifts on special as well as ordinary days. As time went on, we found joy in surprising each other with various gifts - big, small, wrapped, unwrapped, cheap, expensive...it didn't matter. What mattered most was that each gift was a reassurance that someone knew what made us smile and laugh, as it brought out the child in us.
]]>Wed, 08 Feb 2023 18:32:31 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/my-view-of-the-horizonTwo years ago, as soon as I completed my manuscript for In The Typhoon's Eye, my childhood memoir, I realized that it had been thirty years I hadn't held my brushes. Yet because I needed a meaningful image to represent my story, I found myself compelled to draw the cover of my new book. This image has stayed with me my whole life.

The little girl depicted is my twelve-year old self, looking out to the horizon, waiting for the sun to descend and create crimson hues in the skies. Witnessing nature's magnificence gave me instant relief from the arduous seven and a half-kilometer hike. Overlooking my town from a hilly area on which I was perched, gave me a sense of home.
 

]]>Mon, 30 Jan 2023 18:35:06 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/antidote-to-self-doubtWhen the temptation to doubt myself becomes strong, I start to collect from my personal deposit of grace, faith, and love of my work.
Many times the strength of our belief in our own abilities is influenced by others. The process requires willingness to become vulnerable by taking the risk of exposure. In the end, we do redeem each other.

]]>Thu, 26 Jan 2023 12:14:14 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/milestones-among-oceans-and-waterfallsWhen a stranger sees me as an older adult, it makes me reflect deeply on my own life. These questions keep surfacing in my mind--"How much time do I have left to live? I wonder..."

I remind myself of a line written by one of my favorite authors, "Time is not as we see time but rather in lessons that are learned." As I go through old photos taken for almost two decades, I reminisce on the significance of each year past. The sight of myself surrounded by natural landscapes, especially oceans and waterfalls, energizes me. I see my milestones as proofs of my winning over life's challenges and my insatiable desire to understand its mysteries. The more I learn, the more I know that there is more to unravel.

I cling to youth within my spirit as the inevitable process of entropy looms in the future.

]]>Wed, 10 Nov 2021 11:18:24 GMThttp://www.blessingingpoet.com/blog/a-wanderers-homeA distant memory. A momentary daze. An image appears, slowly taking shape…a small house perfectly shaded by a row of palm trees, the air is warm and humid moistening your face, blooming colors line your narrow street, an old neighborhood welcomes you. On the street corner, the smell of freshly baked pan de sal teases your palate. You join in the incessant laugh of your playmates as full moon descends on the playground. Like a movie, the reel keeps rolling with images so vivid they grab your heart, its beats racing, pounding on your chest. The place you desire is out of reach. You reminisce. With eyes involuntarily closing, you savor the warm sensations all over, like a tight hug from a long lost friend.

Nostalgia sets in.

The vision quickly fades. You decide to sit in your favorite chair. You let out a loud sigh…the thought of the past heightens your longing. Time may not be on your side. You blinked and the years went swiftly by. I waited so long for this… when I no longer have to work forty to sixty hours a week. You placate yourself with the intention to reassure. Four decades is a lifetime spent away from your homeland. You convince yourself that you have a great home where you are. You love the culture that was once foreign to you. You have many friends. Yet something is still missing. Reality keeps knocking...the practical reality.   

Many of my friends in America, Europe, and the Middle East have recently retired from their lifetime careers, and so have my high school friends back in the Philippines. We are in our sixties now and are often referred to as seniors. It took me a few years to let the word “senior” sink in into my psyche, another year to let it settle emotionally. This realization has allowed me to make a courageous decision to give up my nursing career. It meant giving up thousands of dollars pouring into my bank account every other week. I was determined to take that leap even if it meant losing my income and saying goodbye to a career that spanned over four decades. It was time for me to focus on what I considered the most meaningful move in my personal and professional life. So I did.

Since certainty is never a part of life, it is possible that I won’t have enough time to enjoy all the things I love to do. Oh, the arts! I’ve always wanted to become a full time artist, but life demanded that I stayed in the field of nursing longer than I intended. Juggling two careers for eighteen years, I endured sleep deprivation so I could go to school during the day and work at night. Living a double life was an understatement. As if my struggle was not enough, life took on its natural course so fast that I had to set aside my personal pursuits to attend to the needs of my loved ones –my daughters’ weddings, my son’s college studies, my mother’s sudden illness, and her passing. My mother’s illness and passing gave me a new window into my own future. My view through this window becomes clearer as I get older. Will I live another twenty-five years…maybe thirty if I’m lucky? I’d blurt these thoughts aloud that my daughters could hear them.

“Mom, don’t talk about that...we don’t want to hear it.”

“But I need to talk openly about my future and my dying.” I’d tell them. “That is one inevitable truth everyone must face.”

I want to welcome aging and dying with an open heart. I intend to fade away with dignity and grace. I’ll wear a smile when life’s mysteries no longer exist. Questions about dying sneak into my consciousness on idle days and I don’t do too well when idle. The COVID pandemic forces me to isolate in my home. The isolation constantly challenges all my creative resources as I attempt to find new ways to be content.  

Planning for old age is never one of my favorite subjects. I’d rather chase my lifelong dreams, rather than making plans with so-called experts. Following my passions is what makes me feel most alive. Isn’t that a great way to live in the present? However, having experienced a decade of single parenthood and raising three young children on my own, forces me to engage with financial advisers who seem to have all the answers. I find their calculated speculations encouraging.  Timing plays a big role. Saving for the future must start as soon as income is generated. Many of us make the common mistake of thinking “I’m still young. I’ll do it later.”  I’m guilty of making that mistake and it took me a decade to undo it. Sometimes, the well-known cliché, “The only time we have is now,” can be taken out of its context and places us off- balance. I find discipline as the key to the process of saving for the future. I place equal value to my near and far futures. To sacrifice one for the other can end in regrets. Saving for my old age does not mean I deprive myself of the priceless moments. “There may not be a tomorrow,” I remind myself.  I travel to see new places, make friends, share stories and poetry with others, and sing before an audience whenever I can. In a strange turn of events, the lockdown brought about by the pandemic paved the way for me to complete writing the book I’d always wanted to write. While battling the signs of a looming depression, I wrote In The Typhoon’s Eye, my childhood memoir. I turn to writing as often as I can, treating it as my friendly companion when alone. I escape into the magical world of books to destress and heal myself. If inspiration is low, I cultivate it. I learn how to value time as my most precious commodity.

My family and friends are scattered all over the world and distance create another hurdle. Virtual meetings bridge the effects of distance but not all. Computer and cyber skills are vital especially in these times of disconnect. Without them, connecting with loved ones is almost impossible for my senior friends in their 80’s. Loneliness intensifies the yearning to return to their homeland, especially when their adult children live far to pursue careers in other countries. The gift of companionship comes easier to some but not to others. Some brave living a life of loneliness for the sake of physical comfort. For most seniors, choices narrow down to what can support them with their healthcare needs. Others choose to retire back in the Philippines believing that their happiness lies in being surrounded by their family of origin, the old culture they grew up with, in the old setting of where ‘home’ was. For those who are fortunate enough to afford maintaining two homes, one home in the Philippines and a second one abroad, their life can be more rewarding as they live in the best of both worlds.   

The list of hardships experienced by the aging immigrant can be endless. If I dissect further and go deeper into the day-to-day battle, aches and pains occupy the top of the list. I am no exception to this reality. I visit doctors when I need to and choose to be proactive when it comes to my health. I prefer to be a step ahead instead of behind. Since none of us chose our genetic makeup, we inherit predispositions to certain illnesses. The good news is that pain can be managed to a point where it does not need to interfere with the quality of life. Although it took a few months to reduce the aches caused by degenerative changes in my spine, the combination of daily yoga stretches and Zumba exercises proved successful. I choose not to take pain medications. The simple things that we do on a daily basis can have a huge impact on our health as we age. Nutrition, exercise, recreation, socialization, and hobbies play significant roles in promoting health. Nourishing our body with healthy diet is just as vital as nourishing our mind with healthy information. “We are what we eat.” The daily rituals we do to feel good and maintain our well-being eventually turn into habits. Our habits become us. 

Life is never easy. It may seem even harder for people who love adventure, like you and me. I am a wanderer seeking the very best in life. I don’t stop looking for answers. I know that life can be unfair but I rise above that painful truth. Life does not offer me anything without a price. Nothing is free. The moment I chose to live on life’s terms, I broke the shackles that have bound me for too long. I no longer tread inside the dark tunnel of pessimistic thinking. With renewed faith, like a child, I pursue everything that makes me happy. Material things are not the answer. I used to feel like I didn’t have enough clothes, jewelry, and other material possessions. Now I look around and I see that I got everything I need--a roof over my head, food on the table, the love and respect of my husband, children, friends, family, and the chance to live my waking dream. I’m living that dream as I speak. The inner voice says, Bles, it has been long overdue.

With aging comes the gift of wisdom, the end result of life experiences and self-awareness. With wisdom, it doesn’t mean I no longer make mistakes. Learning lessons does not stop. Taking risks is inevitable if I aim at having accomplishments. New mistakes are bound to happen as I navigate new territories, new fields of study, new skills, new relationships, and new places to navigate. Complacency is not in my vocabulary. I intend to enhance my knowledge, hone my skills, and polish my voice as an artist. With all live performances on hold due to the disruption caused by the pandemic, I create my own invisible platform. I sing my arias within the four walls of my home, at the same performance level I would give on a live stage, with imagined thundering applause from an audience in standing ovation. I dance to keep my body limber, my spirits lighter. Music and writing confirm what my life purpose is. Purpose adds meaning to my existence. I write poetry to connect with those who find beauty and solace in the written word. I tell true stories, healing and painful, beautiful and ugly, to widen perspectives and create better personal paradigms. I may not notice when my life’s sunset sneaks in to steal my sunlight for I’ll be too busy being happy. I live to inspire and be inspired. One story at a time.

Chasing my love for the arts took me to my temporary homes, each of them creating memories that have become part of me. The house where I grew up still stands on the same street that looks shorter now. Our old neighbors are gone. Nothing looks like the home I knew. Only the old kapok tree on the corner of the grassy yard bears resemblance of my childhood, in my age of innocence and wonderment.

Last summer, while visiting my children in South Florida, I overheard an impassioned conversation between my six-year old grandson and her five-year old cousin, my granddaughter.

“I want lola and lolo to buy a house in my neighborhood.”

“No, I want them to live in my neighborhood!”

The little cousins happened to live in the same neighborhood. From that moment on, I knew where my next home was going to be. It would be right in the midst of those who will bear my legacy.]]>