Huggybear's Stories
June 21-27 Edition
May 4 2014
Sunday
It's really funny. Just when I've to the point where
material acquisitions don't matter to me, I realized that buying a tablet is a
good idea.
What appeals to me is that I can
watch, and take notes at my own leisure, the videos of my spiritual mentors
like Wayne Dyer. I was tuned in again to Wayne's Every Day Wisdom earlier.
Forgiveness, he says, is an act of
self love. You forgive those who hurt you not because you love them, but
because you love yourself. It means you respect yourself too much to let
negativity corrupt your being.
Learning to let go is a way of
honoring your being. If people judge you, it's a reflection of their character,
not yours. A heart full of love cannot
spread hatred. You can't get apple juice from an orange. You can only give what
you have.
Wayne Dyer
Everyday Wisdom
I found a bit of solace away from the maddening crowd. I got a piece of crinkle biscuit
and a mango shake for dinner in a quiet corner of I.T. Park.
I didn't go to Bantayan Island
though today I uploaded my amateur short film Crossing Lapu Lapu.
I shot it as a record of my
travels. It's my own movie postcard.
Crossing Lapu Lapu
A Film By Huggybear
One of my idols is Michelangelo Antonioni.
The legendary Italian filmmaker is
the inspiration for my latest camera technique in my evolving style. .
I want the scene to convey what
words don't and what the mind wants to see.
Michelangelo Antonioni
A Tribute
The end part of Antonioni's
L'eclisse (The Eclipse) is a great
influence in my passion for making movies. There's something magical in
capturing a fleeting moment in time and giving it immortality on celluloid
L'eclisse
A Film By Michelangelo Antonioni
On this day a week ago, I spent a quiet weekend just reading
books.
One of them is about the works of
The Coen brothers, Joel and Ethan.
I like how the Coens evoked the feel of Barton
Fink. I can relate to the protagonist: a writer battling with his personal
demons.
Barton Fink
A Film By Joel and Ethan Coen
I seldom suffer from this so-called
writer's block. I could imagine how frustrating that must feel.
Of course, there are times when I
don't feel like writing. But it always comes back. Always
does.
I try to avoid prostituting my
writing by not working as a staff writer. I tried that once and it was the most
constipating hell I went through. Never, ever again. I'll write only what I want to
write.
Today, my fiction anthology, Johnnybee: The Stories &
Short Novels of Jonathan Aquino, got published in ebook by Smashwords.
I shared excerpts instead of
writing a blurb.
Johnnybee
“You deaf or something?” she
roared.
“Ah, yeah, look who’s talking,
yo!”said Blue, gesturing hiphop.
I looked – glared – at him again.
"Hey you!” the Ice Queen was
jabbing her finger at my left nipple.
I looked back at her.
“She can’t see us, Johnnybee,”
White said.
I looked at him in wonder.
“STOP SPINNING YOUR HEAD LIKE A
FREAKING ROOSTER!” screamed the Ice Queen.
The Huggybear Show
"The soul comes back in
another body, like, a robber comes back as a fox?”
“No. A robber comes back as a
victim.”
“How come I don’t remember my past
lives?”
“It is all in the mind.”
“So how do you get out of this
merry-go-round?” asked Huggybear.
“Ye must become perfect.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Is it? It is like solving a
crosswords puzzle, Huggybear. Sometimes, thou art right, sometimes thou art
wrong. Sometimes ye face a blank. But ye still go on,” said Leon.
“Trial and error?”
“Yes. The scientific method. If ye
persevere, ye will come to a place where every letter just falls into place.
Suddenly, thou art gazing at what was not there before. But if ye really think
about it, it has been there all along,” said the Angel Leon.
They Call Him Legion
"The structure evokes visions of Spaniards, horse-drawn
carriages and ancient souls. Even the pavement outside was cobbled, mute
witnesses to the footsteps of time. On a large cross on the altar, a life-size
statue of the Son of Man gazes across the empty pews with an air of
unfathomable sadness, for the redemption of souls is but a myth. And from the
walls can be heard the lamentations of those drowning in the fires of Hell for
all eternity. The only illuminations in this forbidding place are candelabras
discreetly placed in recessed corners. The darkness seem to have a life of it’s
own: an amorphous entity, breathing, as if in anticipation for a primitive
ritual..."
A Thousand Summers
"I was sitting on the lifeboats at the top deck as the
ship began to move. No money can buy my joy. White foams around us, the water
churns as we head to the open sea. A short while later, I was at the highest
point in front, the sea breeze embracing me like a lover, unseen lands
beckoning. I knew then, with absolute certainty, that I would spend the rest of
my life this way..."
A childhood friend texted at four past midnight, just like
the title of the Stephen King book I read years ago. My friend is now working
as a caregiver for his aunt who was paralyzed with stroke. His cousins are not
paying him.
"Bro, if you need help, just
tell me," I texted back. "I try to avoid giving advice unless it's
asked. So I'll just pretend you're asking for it. Here it is: you have to avoid
being dependent on people who take you granted. Those people you work for are
treating you like a servant and they justify not paying you because you're
their relative. I'm not saying they're abusing you. But that's what I'm
saying."
I sent my reply but I got an error
message. Apparently I've run out of prepaid load. What's weird is that he got
it. I looked at my Sent box. Nothing. That's spooky. To think that I was tuned in to the
paranormal radio show Kasindak Sindak half an hour before that. I caught the
show's last segment, where they're reading text messages and giving the meaning
of dreams. I was really curious where they get their interpretations because I
don't believe in dream dictionaries. There's a couple of ghost stories and
requests for future topics from listeners. My Sent-Unsent text gives me the
willies. But I got my message across.
3 comments:
I woke up early on a peaceful Sunday morning. It's the first time in a very, very long time that I heard about what's happening in the world. I tuned in to Cebu's 101.9 Radyo 5. Some of the Filipino contract workers repatriated from the politically deteriorating chaos in Libya have just arrived.
There is a student protest rally going on in Mendiola in Manila against the pork barrel scam where some senators have been implicated and charged with plunder. I saw the headlines on a newstand yesterday about Senator Bong Revilla turning himself in. The rally is calling for officials allied with President Aquino to be charged too.
Literature Prof. Cirilo Bautista, the literary editor and one of the columnists in Philippine Panorama magazine where I'm a regular contributor, has just been honored as National Artist. I really enjoyed reading his articles on the craft of writing so, even though we've never met, I've always thought of him as one of my mentors.
(Phone Notes, June 22, 2014, Sunday)
I believe in what Wayne Dyer says about us being spiritual beings having a physical experience. Some of the most transcendent moments in my life are those where I felt that I am more than my body. Sex, according to the Tantric philosophy, is not a purely physical act, but an aspect of the divine. There is the Kama Sutra from ancient India, the land of Buddha and Krishna. There is also the hieros gamos, or sacred marriage. This is the union of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, who was not a prostitute but a pagan priestess.
(July 3, 2014, 5:22 p.m., Thursday)
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"Forgiveness is an act of self love...."
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