With Gustav, our SUV, sleeping in an auto shop in Baguio, we set aside all out-of-town plans, and prepared for the two to three days of virtual seclusion at home. All the malls, markets, restaurants, and shops would be closed for Holy Thursday and Good Friday, so we had to purchase our supplies today. We also went into the hardware store to purchase an auto light, a replacement for dresser light box, and a few meters of rope LED lights for the kitchen.

I had the rope lights set up under the cabinets above the kitchen counter before dinner, running the stretch of lights through small hooks that I connected to the underside of the cabinets, and plugged the end into an empty outlet. I loved the effect that made my old kitchen look more modern and a little more brilliant. Lights are always a nice trick to perk up a room.

After dinner, I decided to cover my laptop with an almost transparent layer of window laminate, with a nice daisy design which gave the effect of embossed metal. Very chic and classy. Then I attended to the replacement of the light box over my dresser.

Because I had bought a different less expensive brand than the one that broke down in less than a year, I had to change the connector that was attached to the power cord. With my ever-reliable Exacto sliding knife, I cut the cord an inch above the connector.

I cut the cord halfway through, and a few seconds later, saw a small spark and heard a loud pop, as the cord jumped from my hand.

Uh oh. The power is still on. I instinctively looked at the outlet, and realized I had not unplugged the power cord.  So careless of me.

I castigated myself for not taking the precautions I normally take. I could smell burnt rubber. I unplugged the cord, looked at the burned end, and took a pair of scissors to cut another two inches off. Then I checked the inside of my hand. I was just starting to realize the emergency I could have gotten myself into. No burns, thank goodness. I looked at the Exacto blade and realized I had been saved by the thick plastic that covered the handled, and prevented me from touching the blade.  I know enough about electricity to understand that when the metal blade touched the two sets of tiny copper filaments in the cord, the electrical connection caused the spark and the pop. No one else in the house heard the pop, and no one know how close I had been to an accident.

I went about my night on Facebook, “liking” my friends’ posts, and sharing a few items, until Kim invited me to watch 500 Days of Summer.

Last night, I seemed to be in a trance, even as I sat in front of the TV with Kim, the laptop left open on Facebook.  For hours, I couldn’t understand why I kept receiving reactions to a note from Minnie when I couldn’t find my name as a recipient… until I realized I was indeed in the Facebook Notes list as “You”. I had forgotten Facebook’s style.

I posted on my wall:

“is watching 100 Days of Summer with Kim, and still wondering what the story is all about. Am confident I’ll eventually find out. Am so dense these days”

as my Facebook status. Friends reacted. “Funny”, and “it’s 500 Days of Summer”, not 100. hahaha

I reacted to myself and added another status post about how I was feeling

“floating just a few inches above earth simply floating in the wind, reminiscing with fondness, observing life like watching a movie, smiling at the pettiness of this life, lurking & liking FB friends’ posts . . .”

“I prefer this than having my feet on the ground, and my mind intact. hahahaha”.

I awoke in the morning, still feeling a bit whoozy and floating. As I washed the lunch dishes, I realized that I was actually floating above earth most of the night last night.

Perhaps, the “almost electrocution” accident propelled me into the inner worlds where life in more peaceful, where I can look at my situation from a distance, where I can actually be unfazed by situations.

Whatever and wherever I was last night, I now realize that I had felt nary a tinge of fear of death (yes, in a worse scenario, I could have been near death last night), instead I savored the relaxed peaceful feeling of nearness with my Creator, a feeling that I would welcome anytime.

Found myself today in the middle of so many memories of lovely days in the past, even as I tried to attend to the endless tasks at home and at work (also at home).  Reminiscing the past gives endless joy, and hope for more of the past in the future. Memories never fail to boost my determination to live life to the fullest.

Some unusual things I have done, or have happened to me,  in my life, at least compared to others  in  my circle of friends:

• jumped off the 19th floor rooftop of a 5-star hotel in Makati to demonstrate the use of a harness-style fire escape unit.  Bach in the early 1980s, I handled the promotions account for Uniscape, a fire escape unit that was already installed on top of the Mandarin Hotel on Makati Avenue. We organized a press conference, and coincided it with a fire drill of the hotel.  Everyone, including media, was directed up to the rooftop. After a short briefing on the fire escape unit, the visiting Hotel Manager from Hong Kong and I each slipped into harness connected to simple hydraulic-powered machine.  We sat briefly at the edge of the ledge, our legs dangling. I had looked at my boss who asked if i was insured, as he wiped large beats of nervous sweat from his forehead. We then pushed ourselves off the ledge an savored the 30 second free-fall. As we descended in our harness, we slightly hit the wall, and scratched my arm, but otherwise were fine. As we alighted on the grassy garden, we waved at the open-mouthed media men above.
• sang solo in Las Vegas.  Oh well, I only sang a few solo lines, but they were still solos. I belong to the Theresian Alumnae Chorale, organized in 2003 among STC QC alumnae to help promote the school’s alumnae association programs.  In October 2008, we went on a tour of three cities in the US West Coast — Las Vegas, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. I sang a short intro and extro solo for Fantine’s I Dream a Dream in our Les Miserables excerpts, and a stanza for He’s Got a Ticket to Ride in the Beatles Medley.
• performed flamenco solos to thousand-people audiences when I was 15 years old.
• Enjoyed climbing the garage onto our house roof weekly during my early childhood years in P. Florentino.
• Fallen off a banca with my unborn 5-month-old Rita into Laguna de Bay. I immediately treaded the water, grabbed 5-year-old Gela, and assisted her to tread, and called out to my husband to start treading the water. We were  part of a school tour of the Bay, and were fascinated when a banca slid near us with loads of shrimp. We all turned to that side of the banca, and before we could stop anything, the banca was toppling over. After a frantic minute, we realized that we were in chest-deep water, but the lake floor was eekie soft.
• Played patintero with 10 other 8- to 10- year-old kids in the street.
• Fell in a smelly canal with guppies, in my school uniform, as we waited for the school bus to arrive. To while away the time, Lulu Abad and I jumped across the meter-wide canal back and forth. I miscalculated and slipped on the bank.
• Sewed up the skin of my frog after we temporarilly paralyzed it and observed its heart and lungs in high school Biology class. I taped the sewn would and let it go in the empty lot beside our house in New Manila.
• Faced a cocked armalite at the wall of San Beda College. Jarius, Daisy, and I  had joined a rally at Plaza Miranda for the release of my second cousin Dodie Guanlao, which led to a lightning rally to Malacanang. When riot police fired shots in the air, the rallyists dispersed and we were caught at the sidewalk fronting San Beda College. Almost immediately, 4 policemen were in front of us, pointing those cocked armalites in our faces. I felt we were facing the firing squad. We were marched together with a few others (10 in all) to the Provost Office of Malacanang.  (A nice story for another day).
• Threw leaflets out a 2-seater plane as we launched the first  shampoo with conditioner Rejoice.
• Played hide-and-seek with the Metrocom when martial was declared in 1972.  In at least three situations, we were able to get out of the community before the Metrocom arrived to pick us up. Obviously there were snitches.  One one occasion, we had just left Area 5 in UP Diliman, and were walking to the  jeepney stop in front of Vinzons, when 5 Metrocom cars whizzed in front of us, wailing sirens. That night, friends informed that the police missed us by 5 minutes in Area 5 but took three community leaders with them.
• Portrayed the colorful Firebird in Paradise, in the 1-Act Play Woman and God, produced by St. Theresa’s College Quezon CIty and directed by Fr. Reuters. (I need to look for the yellowed program of the event.) As a minor Grade 5 performer in a high school show, I was tasked to fly 3x across the stage. The audience applauded my high and extended grand jetes when I was done.
• Experienced the huge hand of  God catch me from hitting my head on the back wall. I was dancing the Salsa with a friend DI in a small dance hall, when I accidentally tripped on his size 12 shoe. The world instantaneously slowed down. My partner had stepped back in, but was now reaching forward to catch my hand which was now high up in the air.  As I fell, I noticed the edge of the table on right, and knew that I was surely going to hit my head on the full-length mirror behind me. My butt hit the floor, and I instinctively placed my hands on my hand to protect it from the inevitable collision with the mirrored wall. Yet, I did not feel anything, and instead fell softly on my back to the floor, as if an invisible hand had caught and cushioned me as I fell. I immediately turned my head, surprised to find that the wall behind me was still a meter and a half away.  How could that have been?

Things I’d like to be able to do:

• Fly a plane
• Parachute from a plane and feel free like a bird
• Scuba dive
• Drive a car/truck alone with confidence
• Join the Tour of the Fireflies
• Go on a Mediterranean cruise / tour Europe
• Run a corporation

When I first saw the preview trailer of the movie Alice in Wonderland, I immediately made a mental note to watch this movie on the big screen.

I’ve always loved fantasy epic books, and their movie counterparts — Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Star Trek, Memoirs of a Geisha, Star Wars, Merlin, Gladiator, Avatar, and now Alice in Wonderland.

I don’t like watching movies in theaters. For me, they’re a big hustle. I’d really rather watch from my good bed or comfy sofa, relaxed and in my house dress.  But I am more than willing to stand a little more discomfort for really good fantasy epics. Plus of course the company is always a good reason to go.  Tonight, my daughter suggested watching Alice in Wonderland after dinner, and all of us lighted up immediately.

I do love to watch other movies and read a variety of other books. But the fantasy stories have never failed to catch my wonderment, and tickle my creative fancy.  Perhaps I have had very fantastic past lives — hundreds, thousands maybe. All I know is that I am able to associate myself with them, either as a character or behind the scenes, and blend well with the scene or situation. It’s almost always like I’ve been here so many times before.

The first time I watch a movie, I take in the story, with very little mental analysis. It’s much like observing a series of scenes, really just watching. If interesting enough, which means I am able to relate to the story, situation or the back history, I often get the urge to watch it again, this time with a little more attention to plot and content, consistency, and logic.  In other cases, I look into the technical possibilities of the scenes, as if I were a part of the production team for special effects, costumes, graphics, computer works, and the like.

Alice in Wonderland was a delight to watch. For one, Johnny Depp was portraying the Mad Hatter. I remember loving him in Pirates of the Caribbean.  Second reason, I believe, is the fact that the story is magical, or deals with magic, which has always fascinated me. I don’t care much about show magic as in David Blaine and his kind. I am more fascinated and can associate with Gandalf and Merlin, and Dumbledor, and the physically unexplainable.

For me these are the real magicians, with purpose, with ethics and principles, and fully aware that there is no such thing as magic, only people who want to believe so. For all magicians are mere tools to prove the greatness and love of the One Creator.

I can’t actually recall the story details of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. But the movie, which portrayed a sequel to the story 13 years later, referred to it as flashback dream memories of Alice in her youth. Then I remembered snippets.

Alice was a dreamer, who visited fabulous worlds as her body rested. Of course, people around her would dismiss her dreams as mere figments of her imagination, and can never harm her.  I had reacted to this statement when I heard it in the dialogue. I counter with my own: Dreams are real, and we explore other worlds every night.  But then that’s for another blog.

For now, I am just so happy to have spent a few precious hours with my eldest daughter, her husband, my 6-year old apo, and my hubby, enjoying a nice good relaxing movie together.

Image grabbed from The New York Times, which you can also check out a great movie review.

The other night, Saturday, before our chorale practice, we were chatting as we waited for the others to arrive, updating each other or the latest developments on each other, and about about the election campaign.

Suddenly, one lady popped the question that we thought was unnecessary. “Who are you voting for?” A bit taken aback, someone mentioned her candidate. Another refrained from mentioning names. I just posed my categories for choosing my final vote.

But as with all political discussions among people of various persuasions, we ended up with a sharing of differing viewpoints, mostly in query form but nonetheless critical.

The same person who asked the first question, apparently hurt that I did not necessarily share her reasons for voting, barked out loud, “Di, wag ka na lang bumoto!” with her eyes large and confrontational.

I had no intention of starting a fight. This was obviously just a sharing among friends. But startled at her raised voice, and direct affront, I replied with a non-confrontational statement, “We were just expressing our opinions. Akala ko ba nag-uusap lang tayo?”   But as I finished my sentence, I realized that I had also raised by voice 2-3 decibels higher than my normal (which many of you know is definitely not soft.) And I was looking straight at her.

I was heating up, and had no intention of backing out of the discussion. Yet, I knew this could get nasty. So I called on the Holy Spirit for help to cool down.

Actually whenever I think of the Holy Spirit, and of God, my immediate reaction is to relax. I feel ashamed of myself, and apologize inwardly. But not to my co-chorale member.

Just then, the elevator rings to announce the arrival of two more members.  We greet them and change the topic unconsciously.

Surprisingly, I did not harbor any grudges or bad feeling for the confronter. Till the end of the practice session 3 hours later, I had treated her as just one of the group, and had totally forgotten the incident…. not until someone mentioned it over our late dinner / midnight snack later.

One thing I’ve learned from the situation is that politics is much like the negative force, which God allows to exist among men.  Politics, by its very nature creates confrontation among people, even among the best of friends.

And it provides so many opportunities for us in terms of mental calisthenics, logical thinking, understanding various personalities, debating skills, so much more.

Spiritually, though, which in the end is the key to our survival in this world and time, our involvement or non-involvement in politics and the subsequent activities it entails is truly a great opportunity to let us know ourselves better. At least for me, I am learning to be more humble and not confrontational; patient and understanding that others cannot automatically see the same situation as I do; respectful of the opinion of others; and detachment from the confrontational situation and not allowing it to pervade my being.  I believe this way, I am becoming a much better person, one step and one situation at a time.

Exploring the God Worlds of ECK by Claude Gruffy

I awoke right before lunch today,with vague memory of several dreams of going to a university, a trip to the mountains, meeting with my daughter at her home. Too bad I can’t recall more details of the dreams. I had been startled by the loud banging on the neighbor’s door, so I missed that usual slow and subtle transition from the sleeping to the waking state during which I could reminisce the dream and write a record of it in my dream journal.

I’ve maintained a dream journal for about 20 years, ever since I started reading about Edgar Cayce, the sleeping prophet. Cayce was able to help diagnose patients’ illnesses only when he “slept” and got in touch with his patients’ past and present life or akashic records on the inner planes.

Ever since I was in grade school in STC, I have constantly wondered why I dream. The teacher to whom I had posed my profound question had dismissed my probing as nonsense, just a figment of my imagination, and I accepted it as that. For decades I left the question be, though I know that it would pop out every now and then, especially when I dreamed of failing in a Chemistry exam in high school, or meeting and taking a walk with my dead grandma, or of little people watching me from our window sill, or persistently dreaming of a huge ball that followed me in any direction on a wide featureless plain, or watching a couple of llamas disappear in the misty ravine, or opening the heavy door of an antique aparador, entering and climbing a wooden escalator to a party on the second floors, or seeing myself lying in a coffin.

In all of these dreams, I can distinctly remember the emotions and thoughts that came along with them, and almost always ended with the question: “What is the meaning of that dream? How does it relate to my life?”

Looking back, that question also implied a conclusion that I’ve made years ago. I believe in dreams, and I know that dreams have a reason for being. But “what are dreams” and “why do I dream” are questions that remained unanswered. . . until some eight years ago. I started to understand that everybody dreams, whether they remember or not. I learned that dreams are my own travels in the worlds of God. Dreams are as real to me as Soul, a spark of God, as my daily circumstances are while I’m awake. At one workshop I attended, the facilitator said:

“You are Soul, an eternal spark of God. That is your true nature. Your body is but clothing to allow you to work in the physical world. You are Soul, your true essence, a child of God. Soul never sleeps (unlike the physical body), is creative and imaginative, happy, loving, courageous and fearless, confident, eternal, all-knowing, and much more. . . .Your only purpose on this earth is to learn your lessons on lovingness from the myriad experiences that are brought before you by the Holy Spirit. . . .The Holy Spirit is God’s love in action. It is the energy source of life, without which nothing lives. The Holy Spirit, often relegated to the background of many other spiritual paths, is the eternal guide, the wayshower, the inner master, and manifests through light and sound. . . . All your emotions and fears are but results of your mind’s web-spinning, to keep you grounded to this earth, instead of flying off to your original eternal home with God.”

Since then, I’ve realized that through my dreams, God communicates Its love to me. God talks to me in my own language, my level of consciousness. I continue to have dreams that I can barely understand, but with time, and with a much wider and open point of view, I am able to finally get it.