The Earth Still Reminds Us ... Saturday, January 10, 2009
“We can change”-was the favorite upsetting liner used in the movie “The Day the Earth Stood Still” which showed the condemning nature of man to bargain- an offshoot of his selfishness and an exhibit of his delaying tactics of accepting retributions.
An embrace of sci-fi cum philosophical lash was what made “The Day the Earth Stood Still” an unlooked for upturn of current movie trends. It blared the idea clearly that “we don’t own this planet”. For truly an equating adage that says the “Earth doesn’t need us humans!” We never were PROTECTORS of it in the first place.
Just like the biblical rebirth of the Earth, the great ark was brought to fruition in the movie by a cosmic intervention telling us that we don’t own THIS PLANET and that any decision is not within our grip.
Unaware that its toll maybe the great Noah’s ark in disguise, global climate change, escalating biodiversity loss and population growth, natural calamities and even wars, continually ally our paths into sieving out the ‘bad seeds’-but regretfully not all. In whatever angle we may look at it, its catastrophic charge may never be that welcoming. The planet we accidentally have domiciled in will still be here no matter what and can stand still even without US…
We can change… just give us TIME…What? Are we to set the condition? Has TIME been considered by nature on its grand blueprint? I wonder.
Water Management Saturday, November 1, 2008
How Much Water Do We Need
People lived and culture flourished because of water. History conveyed how ancient Egypt civilization grew along the banks of the river Nile. Trades and business flourished because of the presence of the most essential water. Men lived longer, conquered death, sickness and even war because of that simple hydrogen-oxygen molecular relationship. We are truly lucky to have nature made them around “renewable”.
But what is it with water that makes it the most important resources of all? We live in a water planet, right?(71% of the Earth’s surface is water). Well if that’s the case then why worry? Oops,… but then we are also water beings (60% in most of our cells in the body is water) and that, in order for us to survive, we need to continually replenish them and so with our environment. If we have to deal with grim realities and statistical congruences, we may say that in the next two decades (with the course of global warming’s dictate over water cycle and growing world population) one out of four people will have no access to safe and adequate supply of clean and safe water. The hydrologic (water) cycle is continuously replenished.What alters it is the amount of slowly degradable and nondegradable WASTES that we throw into the system and the amount of precipitation (rain) nature would offer us- which is lately exacerbatingly negative. Climate change has dramatically made itself unpredictable. There maybe excessive water to places that could not hold it long (causing floods) and scarce in others where it seldom rains ( desert biomes).
So, how much water would one need now and the practice of using it efficiently? Let’s ask ourselves.We, who maybe fortunately belonging to the water-haves region of the Earth may never know. What we have now may change and what changes may occur is still beyond our CONTROL.
Good-bye Friday, October 31, 2008
One last Sniff in for GOOD-BYE
Bows were courtesy done repeatedly
Not to end but to pause for awhile
Waiting for the next likeable tune to play
When we may dance … and put on an act again
We sometimes dizzied ourselves from a twirl
Then pause to come back empty
Faces paled by the sickening motion
Breathing stopped … but still unmindful of its caution
Many times you glided on a Mazurka
Lively hopping from one partner to another
Oh how I could see the glow in you
But when you reached me…you only said
“I’m tired, let’s sit”
When our favorite tune was played
I was hoping you’d grab me to the center
But you seemed to forget that it was our music
The thing we used to enjoy most
Many times you fancied on looking how good you are in the mirror
I told you never mind for you always DO
But you seemed to have not LISTENED
For my words never mean anything to you
When the ball was nowhere to go but to end
At 12 midnight I decided
When everything in me was exasperated
Not my body but my Heart
One last sniff in and I have to say GOOD-BYE
For I am tired, really TIRED
Of trying to fit into
Your LIFE … a continuing MASQUERADE
Literary Works
The Perfect Proposal
By:
Arnel Francis V. Morales
The rain has relentlessly continued for days like it has a mind of its own, not knowing of when it’s going to stop. Every time Dave has an important day in his life, the weather always seemed to be uncooperative. The haphazardly parked 1968 Ford sedan on the narrow driveway revealed that he was rushing coming home late last night. A salesman for 3 years now, he has never even marked the tail of his dream to become rich by the age of 30- a target he missed two years ago. “A time for everyone” was always his self-comforting pathetic liner every time lapses of bad luck came his way. Dave was determined that he would win his way in the end.
Rushing out as he grabbed his bulky car keys in one hand and leaving his half-finished cup of black roast on the sink, he is faced with the usual dilemma of having a long drive in this tormenting weather – the undeniable condition of his car. The wiper that barely touch the windshield, the half-focusing headlamp that winks from time to time and the unlubricated brake clutches that squeaks, were all but part of the traveling scenario. “What would you expect?” Dave smilingly whispers as he taps the hood of his dilapidated mean machine. “He’s an old pup to bear”. It usually takes him minutes to start the engine, but this time he was lucky to have it in one flick.
The road from Brunskin to New Georgia is a long mile-stretch of slippery macadamized road. Its 6:45 on Dave’s wristwatch. “I must have overslept and drank too much last night,” he thought as he took the sharp curve in the road. The old French restaurant that lies fancy in the heart of the town where he’s heading is famous for their hors d’oeuvre and thick corn potage. Mary, her fiancée for seven years, must have appeared there early, Dave thought. Indeed she has, quite apprehensive already of what’s going to transpire for the night and slightly inebriated by the Chardonnay wine she ordered earlier, she cannot remember how often she had glanced at her watch and the side window alternately. “Oh my, he’s late again”, Mary thought as she fidgetingly rubs her forearm. She was pretty with her Chinese inspired dress. People who occasionally look at her would be reminded of Audrey Hepburn in “ Roman Holiday” movie. “Will he finally say it tonight? I mean the proposal?” Mary has imagined through the coal-colored eyes of Dave that he will finally utter those sweet “ I love you” and the long awaited “Will you marry me?” The coldness of the night was just perfect. The table was set with the flickering long dinner candle. All she has to do is wait.
Dave’s excitement made him forget that he has to hurdle another half-hour to reach “ Une Promenade”. It’s been a long time since they haven’t dated there. The first time they met, Mary was instantly swept away by the charming panache of Dave, seemingly dashing and romantic. But most of all it was Dave’s truthfulness and promises kept that made her in-love with him.
Just when Dave wrestled with the steering wheel as he approached another curve, a flash of blinding light coming from a truck made him shut his eyes. It was late realizing that the car skidded to the other side of the road. A loud crash ended the twirling vehicle to a halt.
The deafening sound of Dave’s alarm clock grew louder rousing him to snap the snooze harder. Dave sprinted out quickly from bed, still shaking from the incredulous experience. “I must have overslept.” telling himself while nodding in disbelief. It was 5:00 in the bedside timer. It was a cold rainy afternoon, a weather so perfect for the intended day of proposal.
On Forgetting Monday, October 27, 2008
On Forgetting
I have befriended loneliness as it crept my midnight pillows
I welcomed it as a celebrating wash for my troubled soul to calm
I sang with it lullabies to hush its deafening wail that it may fade
And cease to bother me as I lay
I tucked myself with the warmth of your illusive blanket and tossed to find comfort
Many times for every recurring thought of the terrible fate I made
I arranged the beating of my heart into a symphony that it may dance my soul
Into a deep trance
I succumb...
Till the pain’s no more... but numbing
For time has mirrored my defeat like a beam so blinding
It flashes back and forth ...unforgiving
I learned to be unresentful
That I shared to sadness a piece of my heart to devour till it burps
Wishful that it won’t cross my mind any more
Of the memories we had before
I tamed the throbbing pain with a whiplash of blame
To make me strong for the sideshow to endure
I made the longing rest and talked myself that the best things doesn’t end
But just transforms to come back
To be another pudding
I have feigned to cover misery and persuaded it to stay till it leads me to sleep
I have made it my love and held on
Believing that one night it would get weary and leave
Me like you did
I keep on ...
To all these
For you are still the one person I desire
On forgetting....
On Dance Sunday, September 28, 2008
When I Dance...
As I stretch a bundle of muscle in my body, I rejoice on how wondrous work of ART I could make. Every twists, every turns and bends could come in precision...A breathing, that is sometimes short, lifts me up as I heave upon an opium of JOY to sustain... a momentary delusion that I can be what I want to be. There is this sudden stupor that I forget the ‘outside world and the ‘worries’ it brings and focus only in the NOW, the physical pain .
There is an unequal joy of convincing myself that I have gotten close to what is being asked ..Enduring, panting, sweating, arms,legs and bodies battling to cross in delirium yet creating not chaos but harmony. What’s next.??..I panic..”Better not think”, I sometimes tell myself. Let the moment decide. So I just glide in the euphoric beat of the music, which sometimes only my heart could hear... The muscle now repays the trust. Yes. “The demands of DANCE is no far greater than the demands of LIFE”,
On Dance
Dance class for me is a day-ender, a therapeutic journey to free myself from a demanding episode. Entering the studio brings chills but the rewards await me like a chocolate mousse treat after. It is my pat on the back, a proof of how I love myself, my physical being. Considering my age, I never worry. Like Agnes* would say, when I returned past the practicable age for learning , “you will eventually find your niche”..not knowing that I have built more than what was expected- a world. I began to reconnect myself making dance a necessity.
Modern dance is a no non-sense discipline like I never thought it was. Being free and untraditional the demands are greater than the classical. All I knew of it before was some thwarted movement captured on the pictures of Martha Graham, her works. I was lucky enough to have been under the tutelage of the world-renowned gifted artist, Agnes Locsin. I learned a lot of techniques and discipline not only in dance but also in composition. There was more than just marveling at her compositions, or lucky enough, doing it. Her instructions sometimes or most of the time, play on analogy “ do it like...” words so exacting that a mere mental picture of it tells you what you should do, how it should look like.
Dance grows. It has a dynamic attitude. The NOW may not be the feeling that transcended the feeling of BEFORE. Even in doing it prior to the ‘real thing’. There is always more to give and every after doing a short class combination or exercise, the feeing of I-should-have-done-better sends a tinge of dissatisfaction. Dance is a discovery of the true nature of what and how it is. It is personal, be it for the performer or the spectator. Realization sometimes simmer from a premature notion.. But a dancer metamorphose in every performance. Real thing grows...if one gets the real picture.
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