East of the Sun | West of the Moon

a bulb in winter a shoot in spring some shade in summer all glory in autumn the rest of the time just to be me Born and raised by the equator meant no seasons, just wet or dry times.  Panting in the humid heat or drowning in torrential rain.  No middle ground - not much in between. Born and raised in the tropics meant no subtleties.  Light and dark from dawn til dusk and back again.  No middle ground - timeless in between. Born and raised on an island meant no bounds, just land, sea, sky.  Cool high mountains east side, deep warm oceans on the west.  No middle ground - flatness in between. Born and raised between the owners and the owned.  Where folks like how it is just too much.  No middle ground - nothing in between.

Bacolod born Eduardo Varela Sicangco has blazed a trail - from small island hometown of grand designs to the bright lights of Broadway in the Big Apple, New York City.  Recently his costumes were featured in the popular Showstoppers exhibit at NYC’s Times Square .  Showstoppers   main window display, NYC’s Times Square Toto , as he is known to us back home, is a master scenographer and illustrator. His multi-awarded creative work - on stage at the Cultural Center of the Philippines and on Broadway, in ballets and opera, on Disney and Hollywood films - have taken him all over the world.  Bacolod exhibit poster , 2015 Yet for us, it is his local roots in Bacolod that put the shine on much of his spectacular achievements. Raised in a home surrounded and immersed in culture and art - by his lyric soprano mom and audiophile dad who possessed a vast collection of cast recordings.  Showstoppers ' central display of Toto's red showgirls Very early on he part...

" If you white men had never come here, this country would still be like it was. It would be all pure here. You call it wild, but it wasn’t really wild, it was free. Animals aren’t wild, they’re just free. And that’s the way we were. You called us wild, you called us savages. But we were just free. If we were savages, Columbus would never have gotten off the island alive. Our religion is all about thanking the Creator. That’s what we do when we pray. We don’t ask Him for things. We thank Him [Her]. We thank Him for the world and every animal and plant in it. We thank Him for everything that exists. We don’t take it for granted that a tree is just there. We thank the Creator for that tree. If we don’t thank Him, maybe the Creator will take that tree away... We are made from Mother Earth and we go back to Mother Earth. We can’t “own” Mother Earth. We’re just visiting here. We are the Creator’s guests. " Leon Shenandoah , — former “Tadodaho” of the Grand Council of the Six Natio...

Years of navigating through land mines mean dread and caution hover close, even as we eat and socialize. One moment on solid ground, then in a heartbeat it's all gloom and doom.  All eyes swivel toward me. Noise level goes from chaotic cacophony to zero. My ears pop as I gulp for air. Locked in a bubble of building pressure.  dark weird wallpaper I view the living as dead and gone - analyzing their distinctive anatomy and facial features. Clinical and removed as these are filed away for future reference. Suspended in a strange soft cloud of too weird. 

Before time and form all was emptiness and there was nothing. There was only god who filled all the empty space with eternal and overflowing love. Bathala was god and Sinta was god's love.  Bathala wanted to transform the universe. Give it substance and form - reate elements and creatures. Provide a  world of play and delight - with  color and texture, sound and movement. Sinta loved this and together they worked tirelessly to make it so.  Luminas Art on Pixabay God took his energy and breathed matter into his creation - molding it like clay into many distinct forms. Love took her energy and breathed light into their surroundings - watching it soar and float all around.  Bathala formed the earth into a huge ball and filled it with all sorts of flora and fauna. Sinta breathed life and fresh growth into every new form.  God formed the Sun and Love brought warmth and light to the day. God shaped the Moon and Stars and Love made them shine in the now brilliant...

fling open barndoors of the heart pray fully surrendered whole self exposed to all the directions the sky, the earth the sun, the moon the whole of my being voice, gaze, blood, bones relish the relief Yayoi Kusama infinity room, NYBG Halloween 2021 all the while more is revealed ripples and waves circles and cycles language beyond words knowledge past wisdom in our veins the stories flow with every breath shifts and change gifts and choice the law of life for each and all beat as one savor the wholeness stripped and pared down full and heavy with bounty the wind sweeps hearts clean the soil transforms and gives birth we are born and live til we die we are made of all this savor the wholeness melt into letting go breath in the light breath out our love this we pray

It's been a year of being a grief doula to all too many friends and strangers who have lost a beloved. Young and old. Sudden or long suffering. The men die and the women have to somehow forge on.  What do I know about loss and grief? I knock on wood like some triggered spastic that I have yet to lose someone I cannot live without. I'm the one who's afraid of going to a wake. I find myself stuck in the threshold like some scarred quivering rabbit.  In the Orient where I originated we have the age old practice of professional mourners who diligently wail the spirit of a dearly departed off to the divine realms. Away from the living so we can grieve and live in peace. Never to be haunted by any lingering ghost of disappointment over some unfinished regret or sorrow.  A practice of countless past dynasties now imbedded in our DNA and mutated by new technology. For folks who love to celebrate with, song, dance, staged performances, and karaoke it's not so strange then that w...