Corridors and Alleys

Walk
Out of the alleys
Of shallow imaginings
Of impossible dreams and pursuits
And futile and empty quests.
Such labyrinth's not
Safe.

Tread
Along corridors
Of meaningful endeavors
Lofty undertakings and pursuits
And fundamental journeys.
Such ventures feed the
Soul.


//Also posted in VF's "Living Outside High Walls" as my challenge for him to write poems of this metering: 1-5-7-9-7-5-1.

SIKA AMANG (ROMAN)

Natibkerka nga inkam’ nagsadagan
Iti naunday a panawen sika’t kamang
Adigi a nalinteg, naanus a nangiwanwan
Sarikedkedmi, sika laeng Amang.

Sika daydi bukel nagdisso nadam-eg a daga
A rimmusing, nagagawa ket rimmangpaya
Sika ti puon dagiti amin a nagtagisanga
Nga apon dagiti tumatayab; agawidda kenka.

Sika ti urat pagtalaytayan naruay a taraon
Maibisibis kadagiti sanga ken kadagiti bulong
Sika ti sappupo dagiti bunga ken sabong
Nabsogda’t pammagbaga, ta sikat’ salinong.

Palubusannak nga agkurno kenka, Amang
‘Toy bungat’ saringitmo, itandudona 'ta nagan
Iti agnanayon sika ti innak pagtamedan
Tibker pammatim, isu’t innak pagtaklinan.


//Sherma E. Benosa; April 12, 2007; 11:07pm
For myAmang, Roman Bona Benosa
on his 88th birthday, March 28, 2007

Some thoughts on looking back

Dwelling on the past may not be the most brilliant thing to do. But to move forward without looking back once in a while can prove to be fatal to the soul. —Sherma Benosa, 2003

It is not bad to look back to our past. It only becomes unhealthy when we do it much too often, and when we allow the past to hinder us from moving forward. While we may need to have our sights focused on what lay ahead, we also need to look back to our past once in a while to strengthen our resolve to move on. —Sherma E. Benosa, April 14, 2007 while on final stopover during my trip to NV

Looking back may serve as a test of how strong we have become as a person, despite (or rather, because of) our experiences, including those that brought pain to our heart, tears to our eyes, torture to our mind, and anguish to our soul. It is when we can look back to the past without getting hurt — and with acceptance, if not understanding — that we know we have definitely moved on. —Sherma E. Benosa, April 14, 2007 while on final stopover during my trip to NV

Sunset by the Sea

Fiery shades of red
Dazzle across the canvas;
A tint of orange
Lingers in the Painter’s brush;
Hush the vast expanse.

Enchanting music
Of waves coming home to shore
Serenades the Sun
Lulling in the horizon;
Precious peace, she hums!

Breathtaking colors
Gleam in the serene waters;
A few shades of gray
Serve as the tableau’s backdrop;
What a lovely sight!

Two souls sit in awe
Enthralled by the glorious scene
Flashing above them
The masterpiece, the treasure
Of the Master’s hand.

Two hearts deeply touched
Go warm and supple and lithe
Turn to each other
Talking of love and prom’ses;
A soft vow is made

As gleaming silh’ette
Gracefully makes her entrance;
And li’l sparklers
Disperse themselves far and wide;
Night has fin’lly come.

//A poem I was able to create from pieces of verses I posted when I challenged MCP to a duel using 5-7-5-7-5 metering (an extended version of haiku. This metering we called ChaikuS)

//First posted in Kamarin ni MSB in Clifton Pascua's blog in iluko.com, April 11, 2007

Racing Against Time*

Sherma E. Benosa
12/2/2003 10:16:00 PM

On the average, I work 14 hours a day, six times a week, and stay in the office 130 hours of the 168-hour week. I should say that at the end of each week I am toxic and dead tired. I am, but only physically. Deep inside, there is an unexplainable feeling of restlessness that arrests me when I am most vulnerable—a restlessness that not even my exhausted body could suppress; a restlessness that fuels my spirit to soar high; and a restlessness that makes me believe that there is so much to do, in so little a time.

Sometimes I feel as though I am in constant race against Time, and that Time somehow manages to occasionally pull my leg by throwing at me extreme feelings of loneliness or happiness that make me want to stop and either enjoy life or wallow in misery. And when I do, I’d soon realize that I’d been tricked, and that Time had run so far ahead that I could barely catch up.

So I'd put myself back on gear again, exerting every strength I could muster, running as fast as I could, wanting to overcome Time and win the game. But even the most determined soul has its limitations. I too, am not immune to these. In every step I’d made, there had always been something in the way that I had to face before I could make another step. On most occasions, I’d had to move sideward in order to move forward.

“What am I to do? Am I not lucky that I have reached this far despite the things I had to go through? So I have not reached that which I’ve set out to achieve, but then, they weren’t realistic in the first place. Hey, I’ve managed to pull out of every catastrophe thrown my way!” So there go the excuses I’d made for myself for the little-above-satisfactory performance I'd put in. Tsk!

But who the heck am I kidding? If I'd be honest, I’d admit that I had not truly exhausted all the possible options I could have taken; that I had let myself be detained by my perceived limitations; and that I had foolishly succumbed to the fearful little voice inside me which kept asking, “What happens if you fail?”

So I’ve been extremely careful in  my steps. Where I should have readily leaped, I opted to look first, until fear of what might happen had enveloped me that I eventually lost the courage to jump. Where I should have  moved on, I chose to look back and what I saw either tied me to the past or made me be wary of what might be ahead, that in my moments of indecision, good opportunities passed me by. Where I should have confidently taken over, I let other people take control of the things that directly affected me, until I realized a little too late that I could have done the job much better.

It’s not yet late, though. One thing that I have learned lately about the concept of time is that, when seen in a different perspective, perhaps in the long-term scale, there really is no such thing as being too early or too late. This I say, because for years I kept postponing doing something I’ve always wanted to do, thinking that it was too early and that I was too young. So I waited for it to happen in its right time. Or shall I say, I waited for Opportunity to come knocking at my door and hand me the assurance that the odds were on my side. But it never came. Before I knew it, Time had already passed me by.

Then, I thought that it was already too late, that I was too old, and that I may never make it. For some time, I let myself believe this. Until lately, I came to understand that it is not Time that chooses when it is perfect for things to happen; it is I who should make Time be right for what I want to happen.

So now I am working double time to make up for the lost time. Soon, I’d be side by side with Time again. Who knows, I might even be able to trick it into slowing down a little. That should not be too hard. I have already started. So much more shall happen. Simply because I’ve decided it’s time…


------------
*I have been told once that time is not something to race against, rather, travel with—a wisdom of age that (not so) young people like myself have yet to learn. Part of me wants to slow down and find time to smell the flowers and live each day as it comes. But then, the other part of me would not want to look back to this day when I am much older and count all the opportunities I’ve missed because I’ve been busy romancing the sunset that I didn’t recognize them when they presented themselves to me. I would not want to find myself wishing to turn back time to do the things I should have done. There is nothing more tragic, I think, than to have might-have-beens and if-onlys one too many. Regret is that one thing I don’t look forward to dealing with. —Sherma

First posted in Iluko.com in 2003.

Mental exercises (for the heart)

Writing is also another form of mental exercise. Besides driving your demons away, weaving words helps keep your mind in tip top shape.

Lately, myTatang and I have turned our attention to writing poems. But here’s the catch. I would write a poem for him (in Iluko), and he would write me one, using the title I’ve used.

Let me share our works with you.


LUGAR A NAIKARI
(My Poem)
(March 24, 2007; 5:30am)

Awan kaimudingan
Ladingit ni lagip
Nga umay sumallisallin
Mangburibor iti isip
Ta addaka a mangibabaet
Mangipalpalagip
Ayat ken karin-kari
Dua puso a naglantip.

Ni napudno nga ayan-ayat
Adu a tagainep inna linaga
Nga mangitundanto iti dalan
Agturong kenni inanama
Tapno makadanontanto
Nga awan sawsawirna
Iti dayta lugar a nangayed
naikari para kadata.

Idiay, adunto dagiti sulisog
Ngem dakkelto met ni talek
Idiay adunto dagiti ublag
Ngem saantanto ida italtalek
Idiay adunto dagiti rigat ken suot
Ngem pagbinnuligantanto ida a risuten
Idiay adunto’t anay a mangrakrak
Ngem ditanto ida pagballaigien.

Ta idiay nabuslonto met ti ayat
Kasta met ti panagpinnateg.
Idiay aglaplapusananto iti garakgak
Awanto’t adu a sasaibbek.
Idiay nabuslonto ti isem
Awanto’t adu a sangsangit
Ta idiay, duatanto laeng
Ditanto ammo ti agladingit.

Wen Dungngo
Awanto kaimudingan
Ladingit ni lagip
Mabainto nga umay sumallisallin
Mangburibor iti isip
Ta datanto a dua iti agpinnalagip
Ayat ken karin-kari
Dua puso a naglantip.


NAIKARI A LUGAR
(myTatang’s Poem)
March 26, 2007

Bay-am nga idiay lugar a naikari ket innakto akilisen
ni dagidagi’n ayat, pudot barukongko’t mangtagiben
ken manglagda kenni Kari tapno inna buangayen
ni namnama ken panagtinnalek ket inna pagrusingen.

Bay-am nga idiay lugar a naikari ket innakto itukit
dagiti bin-i ni namnama, kaduak nga agsibog ni Langit
tapno ti dalanmo ket nalasbang – uray addanto pait
bumangonka a sisasantak, dupirem dagiti palso a karit.

Bay-am nga idiay lugar a naikari ket innakto irakurak
timek ni Panagtalek, ayatko kenka innak ipaduyakyak
diakto denggen tanabutob ni umsi wenno ublag dagiti salaksak
ta dagita balikasmo Sherma, iti agnanayon, isunto’t dumngegak.

Bay-am nga idiay lugar a naikari ket ilemmak ti tugot
ti Anghel a kagabayko tapno punasenna dagiti ut-ot
ni pasidumri-ni-ilem ket maandingay rigat ni subbot
tapno maiyaon nagkammayet-dua-a-puso kenni tuok.

Bay-am a sangalek ti pakarso ni panangipateg nga ingget sudi
ken lagaen dagiti tagainep, kinasimbeng ni ayat ti mangtagibi
ket imdengamto ti samiweng ni duayya, ramayko’t nangtibbi
ta ngamin ayatko, sikanto laeng ti kaduak idiay lugar a naikari.


Here’s another set of poems…


BUKEL
(My Poem)
March 29, 2007

Nalamiis ‘ta dakulap
a nangitukit iti bukel.
Ket ni ayat
Nagrusing a nagsantak;
dimmakkel.

Kasla idi laeng kalman
a ti daga kimraang.
‘Di na kayat
ti makali, agsangit
a mamulaan.

Kasla idi laeng rabii
a nalusiaw dagiti bituen.
Mabainda a rummuar
ta ti rimatda
nalidem.

Kasla itay laeng bigat
a kimleb ni apo init.
Masadut a sumingising
ta dagiti rayana
kimriit.

Ngem ita pati puso
a nanglaylay, simmaranta
Kas iti bukel nga intukit
nalamiis a dakulap
iti nadam-eg a daga.


BUKEL
(myTatang’s Poem)
(April 1, 2007)

Ti bukel nga intukitko
a sinibugak iti lailo,
ayat ti pinangaladko,
dungngo’t pinangtarakenko
simmantak, rimmungbo
ket saanto pulos agpullo.

Kayawakto ti panawen
ikiddayda’t talingenngen
kadagiti rabii ni umbi
wenno tiempo’t saning-i
ket mataginayon ni lailo
iti bukel nga intukitko.

My mother tongue, poetry, and me...

I am now writing in Iluko.

It’s not much of a feat, really. For one, I still can’t say I’m already good at it. But still, I cannot help but be pleased with myself.

I have always longed for this moment… although at the back of my mind, I’ve always wondered if it would ever come, fearing all the time that it never will.

Thank God it did.

Now, the words come easier to me. It’s no longer like before when I would sit in front of my PC, willing my hands to tap the keyboard, and my mind to dictate the words of my native tongue, wishing Ilocano words to blink on my computer screen. But always, my attempts left me feeling frustrated. I always ended up writing in English.

Yet I still persevered.

Now, there are times when, even before I could set up my lap top, words are already bubbling in my mind, so that by the time I have opened my PC, my fingers are already itching to play with the key board. In fact, during the past weeks, I have created several Iluko poems.

That’s another thing. I am now writing poems. Had I not always said I don’t know how to write a poem? Had I not claimed before that I don’t appreciate poetry? How come I am now attempting to write in this genre?

I don’t know. I just do now… I mean, try. Of course, my outputs aren’t perfect yet. Some may just be quasi. But what the heck. I am teaching myself… I am exploring. I am trying different styles. Who knows, soon I may be able to find my own style. Who knows I may eventually learn to write real ones.

I wish… Or shall I say, I hope?



//One can easily point out that it’s not just now that I am writing poems… that I have pieces written even when I was in elementary. But I don’t know. It’s only now that I’ve come to truly appreciate poetry… and actually attempt to write real ones.

Only daughter no more...

Hey folks! Meet my sisters. Roselyn Kate (formerly Ms. De Guzman of Mallig Isabela, my brother Ryan's wife) and Sheryll (Ignacio/Fernandez of Laoag, my brother Manuel's bride this April).

I feel so blessed to have nice and loving sisters-in-law...


/Photo taken on March 25 at Abinganan, Bambang Nueva Vizcaya while Kate and I were talking to myTatang and Sheryll and Manz' Ninong (kano) on the phone. See the headset? He he he...

Balasang ti Bambang

Kansionanka man, O balasang ti Bambang
balasang a napintas nga innak pagrukbaban
itoy nga aldaw nga inka panagkanaganan
panagtaom, ita ken iti agnanayon, diakto kalipatan.

Isagutko kenka toy ayatko a nagpaiduma
bitbituen sadiay langit, purosekto amin ida
inayonko diay bulan aramidekto a kas korona
nga ibalangat dita ulom, selnaganna ‘ta sadia.

Iyawatko a naimpusuan dagiti pinilik a rosas
karagupna metten dagiti napudno nga arasa-as
ti talingenngen ni Kari, saanto a manasanas
panangtagiben kapia-ni-tulag, dinto pulos agkupas.

Itden koma ti Apo ita nga aldaw a panagkasangaymo
pannakataginayon ni ragsak, regta, salun-at ken dungngo
ni pangipateg ken ni Ayat, agsadag dita barukongmo
tapno inta manibi dagiti tarigagay ken kari ti dua-a-puso.

Kansionanka ngarud O Pintas ti Bambang
sapata ni kinapudno dim’ to koma kalipatan
ta awanton sabali nga innak tarigagayan
no di ‘ta ayatmo, Anghel nga innak pagraywan.


Birthday song from Mr. Clifton Pascua

What matters

They say what matters is not how good we are in keeping ourselves out of trouble but how well we get out of trouble after we have unwittingly gotten into it. I agree. After all, there can’t possibly be any one who can manage not to ever get into trouble. I believe that at some points in our lives, we find ourselves in situations we never dreamed of ever going into — situations which we’d rather watch from a safe distance than be involved in.

Indeed, at one point or another, we succumb to temptations, commit mistakes, make wrong moves, and yes — fail. And very soon we find ourselves caught in a tangled web whose ending and beginning we can no longer pinpoint, and from which liberating ourselves seems impossible.

Then we realize that getting out of our predicaments can be very difficult, and that not all of us have the courage, the determination and the will to get out of sorrow’s clasps. More over, it seems that not everyone of those who might have them (courage, determination and will) can actually make it — some do succeed, often after having been badly scathed with all their struggles; but some would fail and succumb to destruction.

What’s worse is that, even those who might manage to escape from the abyss they’ve been thrown into might, in their struggles, lose something of themselves, so that, although they would still be the same persons who have gotten into and out of the maze, they would no longer be their old selves. Somehow, they would be changed.

So while our ability to get out of the trouble we have gotten ourselves into matters more than our ability to keep out of it, far more important is the person we may become after everything we go through — if, after all that we put up with, we will still have our conscience to help us discern what is right and what is wrong, and the willingness and ability to heed the dictates of that conscience.

Drop of Water

A single drop of water
grows into a river
that flows relentlessly
around hills and mountains
over valleys and plains
along a path
both straight and crooked
wide and narrow
in the hope that someday
she might reach the ocean
where she might attain peace
and have her rest.

But for now she’s just a river
that flows relentlessly
around hills and mountains
over valleys and plains
along a path
both straight and crooked
wide and narrow
in the hope that someday
she might reach the ocean
where she might attain peace
and have her rest
after having grown out of
a single drop of water.


Sherma E. Benosa
March 22, 2007, 10:40pm

Nagulimek Dagiti Billit Tuleng

Naulimek ti angin, kumkumpasanna’t aweng
Ken sagawisiw dagiti billit tuleng
A dangdanggayan met dagiti bulong
Mangliklikmot naiisem a sabsabong
A mangpaypayapay, mangaw-awis kenka
Tapno makipagragsakka kadakuada.

Immisemka, ngem apay a napait
Naibus kadin isemmo a nasam-it
Imbunbunongmo kadagiti papagayam
Inarub-obda kadin a naminpinsan?
Naatianan kadin daydi bubon
Pagsaksakduan isemmo naruay a kas danum?

Idiay laud, aggargarakgak ti init
Mangbuybuya mulmula a masinsinit
‘Di mangikankano kadagiti sangit a maip-ipit
Ken rungaab dagiti mula a naiburang-it
Agpapaarayat, dumawdawat iti asi
Sangkabassit a danum a maiwarsi.

Naikulengka, ngem apagapaman laeng
Ta pagamuan adda nangikut kenka nga aweng
A nangidiktar iti aramidem. Wen, gayyem
Luam nagarubosda, ket dagiti mula nagungarda
Ngem anian, saanmon a nakita nasam-it nga isemda
Ta idin, pagayam, ket naglusdoyka.

Nagulimek metten dagiti billit tuleng.


Sherma E. Benosa
March 20, 2007

Some quasi-poems

My sleep-obsessed creativity usually springs up to life when I am in the mood for teasing. Unfortunately, my outputs when I am in this kind of mood aren't good enough for publication. But I don't mind. I always have a good laugh creating and posting them. And that is good enough reward for me.

Let me share some of my "works."

PHOTOGRAPH

Do you feel them, Photograph
The soft caresses VF gives your cheeks
And the stares he throws your way?
And do you notice, girl
The silly expression on his face, the glitter in his eyes
Whenever he sees your smiling face?
Do tell me: Can you hear
His sighs as he recites a prayer
And whispers: “Oh darling, wish you’re here”?
Do they make you blush?
Do they make you wish you weren’t trapped
Like that... a still photograph?
Do you feel the urge to reach for his hand
And to whisper back to him
You’re wishing for the same thing?
Or do you wish that he’d throw you away
Or give you to someone else, for this place —
His desk — is not where you’d wanna stay?

Sherma E. Benosa
September 25, 2005

--------------

IF
'Backyard Kulding’

If you can’t sleep well at night
Without thoughts of the lady that stole your heart;
If you can’t start the day right
Without hearing her voice that’s music to your heart;
If you seem to see her face everywhere you look
And sniff her scent in every flower you pass by;
If you catch yourself a-smiling
At the thought of her naughty, naughty eyes;
If you feel bad and downhearted
Whenever you can’t get a glimpse of her smile;
If for her welfare, you are prepared to die
And in her company, you see heaven
You might be in love (finally!) my friend
But I’m not sure if that’s good news to you
What’s more: she may not feel the same way, too;
Uh-oh. Kaasi ka pay, agbaakka a baro!

Sherma E. Benosa
October 25, 2006

(My apologies to Mr. Rudyard Kipling...)

--------------

UNTITLED (FOR VF)

Hey VF, my favorite prey
Try not to go astray.
After all, wherever you go
My claws, they shall reach you.

My palsiit, I will use to make you ulaw
When you wake up, you’ll be so mawaw
And your head, ha ha, it’s so kawaw
Wen a, because you are agam-ammangaw!

My tali, so atiddog, it shall be the taldeng
That will keep you within my uged
Sorry but already you are nakaparnged
Get out of my clasp you can't; Oh too many lapped.

And when finally you lie down to die, VF
Pray that I'd be able to control myself
Lest before death be brought upon you
I'd make a last-minute fun of you.

Your pingping, I will kuddot
Your buok I will pungot
You ear I will kulding
Your mata, I will make bulding.

Your saka I will paddak
Your muging I will lipak
Your agong I will pitik
Your ramay I will ipit.

Your heart, I will durdor
Your flesh, I will dunor
Your tengnged I will ngurongor
Your ulo I will pang-or.

Your head, uray nabtak, I shall bring home
There in my sala it will stay alone
And to my visitors I’ll say, “oh that trophy
Is actually the ulo of my enemy.”

Then amidst their applause I, the victorious amazona,
My right hand, in victory, I shall itanggaya!
And together we shall pray that your karurua
Will go koma to that place a nakaikarianna.

Sherma E. Benosa
May 23, 2006

All these were first posted in Clifton Pascua’s blog in www.iluko.com

BNSFIT (SHERMA)

Kas iti agmatuon, sinurotko ti dalan ni kinadangkok
a mangsapul ti kalintegan daydi nasaktan a pusok.
Sinurotko ti desdes ni karemmengan a mangkutikot
iti kailugaran dagiti panagsagaba, awan sarday a tuok.
Inem-emak ni saem ken pannakailuya, tinagibik dagiti pait
a nangpatibker iti Bato tapno agtulidtulid a mangidalit.
Linipatko ti kaipapanan ni ayat tapno ti gagem
ni napasugkian nga abrasa, rason ni apas innak matagikua.
Naglemmesak kadagiti alimpatok dagiti nagarampang a silaw
tapno pilitek a lipaten dagiti nasanaang ken kawaw a kalgaw.
Sinapulko dagiti sungbat dagiti saludsod ni napukaw nga ayat
a mabalin a naikitikit iti langit wenno iti tapok a naisurat.
Dinaliasat ko dagiti saan pay a naimaldit a langalang
tapno mautob dagiti nabannogen a gasatko a naawan.
Kumuyogak koma kadagiti raya ni Init nga agdisso
iti barukong ni mangliwengliweng nga adayo.
Ngem patiek ngata nga itundanak iti lugar ni talina-ay
tapno sanguek ni inana, lipatekon tuok ken upay?
Adda kadi kaimudingak a dumawat iti pannaka-awat
ken agpatulong a manglagda’t agrakayan adigi ni Tangig?
Tapno ti natda a lawag pilitek a sapulen ken supusopan,
dagiti nagkurangak kenni naiwawa a tulag ni Puso.

— VF

Creating mental exercises is fun

Answering puzzles is a good exercise for the mind. In fact, experts recommend this type of mental activity for those who want to keep their minds sharp, especially when they are already in advanced age.

Lately though, my Dungngo and I discovered that creating puzzles is far more fulfilling than just answering published ones. And it is more enjoyable, too, especially when we take turns answering each other's puzzle. Our laughter as we tease each other when one of us finds it hard to answer the other’s puzzles, and our squeals of delight when we are able to answer them, echoes loud and clear into our minds even long after we have found other things to amuse ourselves on.

One of our favorite is encrypting and decrypting codes. Here is one of the codes I made for him to decrypt:


MCK0113C 02G01OP EJ1519G UP

Clues for the first phase:
1. Numbers always come in pairs (2 digits). A pair represents a letter. Figure out the rule.
2. A letter belonging to the A-J string represents the second letter to its left in the alphabet.
3. A letter belonging to the K-T string represents the third letter to its right in the alphabet.
4. A letter belonging to the U-Z string represents itself.

Decoded message (which is also a code): ____________________________


Clue for the second phase of the decoding process:

O, goddess of the wilderness, keeper of the key
The cleverest of preys surrenders to thee
Legend has it that poinsettia nursed in thy bosom
And to thy calmness and peace, the sun comes home.

Decoded message (Final Answer): _________________________

Of temptation, admitting one's fault, and faith in God (among others) in just one story

Sometimes when I look at the story of the original sin backwards, it strikes me that it is very much like the myths that we know of today. Sometimes I go thinking that maybe the story was created in an attempt to explain some of man’s predicaments: why there are temptations, why man succumbs to temptations, why man suffers, etc. But even if I don’t look at the story that way, my interpretation of it stays the same.

Sometimes the original sin is invoked by men to tell women that women are embodiments of temptation; that it is because of women that men commit sin. But I guess it should not be viewed as such.

I think the original sin should be viewed as an illustration of how weak man (meaning, both man and woman) is in the face of temptation (as illustrated by Eve believing the serpent, and Adam succumbing to temptation and biting into the forbidden fruit); of man’s incapacity to admit his fault and to take responsibility for his actions; and of man’s tendency to blame others for his mistakes (as illustrated by Adam blaming Eve for making him bite the fruit, instead of himself for being not wise or strong enough to have fought the temptation and chided Eve instead). To this day, many still blame others for their weaknesses, for their failures, for their wretched existence.

I don’t think the original sin is a question of who tempted whom, or who made whom do what. Neither is it a gender issue. I think it is about man being handicapped in making the right choices. (And may be that explains why, to this day, making the right choices is often a struggle to many.) Eve could have chosen not to listen to the serpent’s speech. Adam could have stopped Eve from listening to the serpent; or, if Eve persisted, he could have left her do the biting. He could have chosen not to have anything to do with the forbidden fruit. Instead, he took the fruit from Eve and bit it.

Finally, the original sin can also be about man’s lack of faith in God, as illustrated by Eve (and Adam) believing in the serpent, rather than trusting God’s warning.



//First posted by SEB in Ms. LJ Galleta’s blog in www.iluko.com .

My Home

It is neither made of steel nor stone
Nor wood nor glass nor iron;
But amidst any misfortune and storm
It stands, magnificent and strong —
Such is my home.

Built not by machine nor by hand
It stands not on a barren land;
On a lofty plane it is nestled deftly
It’s foundation, as hard as anything can be —
Well-built, it must be.

Rooms, it has; and doors and windows, too
All wide open for everyone to pass through;
Walls, I know there is none
And locks, I can’t think of a need for one —
My home welcomes everyone.

Inside, it is warm and soft and cozy
Everyone who visits is hummed a melody;
Its rhythm, not quite out of the ordinary
But its beat, sincere and steady —
In it, I dwell comfortably.

At night, the dweller in my home sleeps peacefully
Of the howling winds, she does not worry;
Of the wars outside, she is not at all bothered
The good always wins, she is assured —
A secure heart doesn’t easily get injured.

---------
Sherma E. Benosa
February 26, 2007; 12:37am

Misunderstood

Dear Diary,

I feel depressed. People stop at nothing to have me, yet very few seem to see me as I am. All they seem to see in me is my superficial aspect; my depth, they completely ignore. They look everywhere for me — in products that promise to deliver me to those who use them, and in treatments that guarantee I’d appear in those who undergo them. And while the patrons of these products and treatments are happy with the results, thinking they now possess me, they don’t know that all they have attained is just but an aspect of me — the one that appeals to the eyes.

That’s why I am disheartened. How can I tell them they are looking in the wrong places, for the wrong concept? How can I tell those good-looking people that it’s just a part of me that they have; that although they are gifted of my physical manifestations, they cannot truly have me if they don’t embody me in their thoughts, words and actions? How can I let them see that while an aspect of me can be had by using those products and undergoing those procedures, the more important part of me resides in them, in the recesses of their hearts? How can I make them realize that I am more than what they take me for, that I am deeper than what they give me credit for? How can I make them understand that I am goodness, and goodness is me?

Oh, it’s sad being gravely misunderstood.

Beauty

Sherma E. Benosa
//February 21, 2007; 11:30am

On beauty...

Beauty is one of the most subjective of all concepts. It means different things to different people. What is beautiful to some may seem ordinary to others. That is a fact of life.

More often than not, we see that which we want to see. Remember the story of the elephant and the six blind men? What we are sure to be right in our perspective proves to be wrong when seen in a different perspective. And what’s more, what seems to be the defining factor of a thing in a certain point of view may actually be just one of the several factors that comprise the whole. At times, that which we put so much emphasis on may not even matter at all when a thing is viewed in its entirety.

Beauty (or lack of) is not all that defines a person. Although it is the first thing that we see, it is not really the one that tells us who the person is.

Am I beautiful, or am I not? That depends on who is the judge. I do know for a fact that I’ll never be a beauty queen. But I don’t mind. What matters is that, whenever I look into the mirror, I like what I see. I smile at my reflection, and she smiles back at me.



/First posted in iluko.com in response to an anonymous posting.

Notes on Jean Jacques Rousseau's "Emile"

In gray font are some of the highlights of Jean Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy on education (Emile) as paraphrased by me. Following each main point are my notes/comments (pink font).

(Disclaimer: These are not the only highlights of the book; just the things I chose to comment on. This entry is based on the critique I submitted to my EDFD class, but it is not the actual text nor does it follow the actual format.)



Humans are naturally good, but somehow, in the course of their lives, they tend to depart from their nature. Hence, like plants, they must be cultivated through education; for without education, they will be trampled upon by social conditions.

I am also of the belief — which, I must admit, is spawned forth by religion — that everything created by God (the author) is by nature good; but somehow, as we live among our fellow human beings, we tend to pick up habits that make us very far removed from our natural state; that is, of goodness.

That like a young plant, man must be fashioned through education and that without education, man would be trampled upon by social conditions, I completely agree. Education does refine man and enhance the gifts with which he is endowed.


The education of humans comes from three masters — nature, through which our organs and faculties are developed; men, from whom we learn the use to make of our growth; and things, from which we gain our experiences of our surroundings. The teachings of these three masters should not conflict. If they do, the education of man will be jeopardized.

Rousseau’s concept of three masters is acceptable to me. We do learn from nature, from the people around us, and from our experiences. But for the teachings of these three masters to not ever conflict with each other — that I consider a question of what might be the ideal and what is the reality. It is next to impossible, I think, for these three to be always in agreement with each other.


The teachings of nature are beyond the control of man; but the teachings of man and of things are. Hence, the teacher must control those teachings that can be controlled so that they remain in accordance with the teachings of that which cannot be controlled. Likewise, the teacher must control those factors that present themselves to the child much too early, when the child is not yet ready for them; as well as those that corrupt the child and lead him away from his nature. He must keep everything that might hinder the child from getting proper education, but he must do so such that the child does not learn of his interference.

Rousseau espouses the idea that the teacher must control the environment in which he places his pupil. I think such idea is rather doubtful. For one, it would require a perfect teacher to do that; sadly, there is no such teacher. Second, even the things that are not from nature which he considers to be within the control of man most often do not succumb to anyone’s control. Third, the teacher controlling a student’s environment is just like a researcher conducting and controlling an experiment. To me, such environment is artificial. It simply does not exist in the real world.



The ideal form of teaching is one that adheres to man’s nature. Hence, children are best educated not in the city where they are exposed to elements that will rob them off their nature, but in the rural areas where they are most in touched with it.

For Rousseau, the best education takes place in rural area. Howver, even if his arguments were correct, such would fall under what I consider a matter of what is and what should be. You just cannot transport all the kids to the rural areas. Besides, there are types of knowledge rural children are better at than the city children (like their knowledge of plants, animals and other natural phenomena they are exposed to). But it can also not be denied that children in the city have better knowledge of other things, such as technology, than the rural children.


The best method of teaching is showing, rather than telling. Pupils are better taught if they are made to experience the things that they must learn (experiential learning). They are better off being allowed to discover the facts of life on their own (learning by discovery), rather than being taught about them. The teacher must encourage them to draw conclusions from their experiences, and not to rely on what authorities or experts say about such experiences.

I can see some semblance between present teaching methods and Rousseau’s point that the best method of teaching is showing rather than telling, and letting students learn by experience. There are now teaching theories that support experiential learning and learning by discovery. There is no question, I think, that such theories are effective. However, I also would not discredit the effectiveness of learning by instruction (Rousseau does). If I were a teacher, I would opt to integrate these three methods to teach my students; and if in some instances I favor one over the other, my decision to do so shall be based on what type of lesson I am giving the students.


The ideal form of teaching is in accordance with the pupil’s age. Children must be allowed to be children. They must be allowed to play, and should not be given lessons that are beyond what they are ready to take nor should they be introduced to concepts not within their grasp.

Human development is divided into five phases: infancy, (birth to two years), the age of nature, (two to 12 years), pre-adolescence (12 to 15 years), puberty, (15 to 20) and adulthood (20 to 25).

Education must start at birth, well before the child “can speak or understand he is learning.” During the infancy period, education focuses on (1) not letting the child “contract habits,” for habits interfere with the child’s nature; and (2) giving the child more liberty and less power. Children must be taught to be self-reliant, to “do more for themselves and to demand less of others.” Confining their wishes within the limits of their powers will make them not desire things that are beyond their power.

When children are already in the second stage of development, they are given only “negative education.” Children’s education at this stage focuses on their physical development, and on the use of their senses. Neither moral instruction nor verbal learning is given them. At this stage, the children’s faculties are not yet fully developed; hence it is best that their mind is left undisturbed.

The third stage of development is where the children’s strength increases faster than their needs. In no other stage of development is the children’s strength more abundant than in the third. It is at this period that learning takes a mental form, for they are now more capable of having a sustained attention.

At fifteen, the age at which the fourth stage of development begins, the children’s reason is already well developed. They are now able to deal with the emotions of adolescence as well as with religion and moral issues. Children this age may now enter into community life, but they must still hold back from societal pressures and influences.

The last and final stage, adulthood, signals the full development of humans. It is at this point that they are expected to be ready to deal with love and relationship (marriage) and to be ready to re-enter into the society.

At all stages of development, children must be taught to be independent and to not want things that are not within their power to provide for themselves. To not to rely on anyone but themselves being one of the main goals of their education, they must be safeguarded against the “seductive illusions” of the society. They must “not be seduced by too much learning, too much imaginative literature or art” for these might stir in them wants they cannot satisfy and lead them to become dependent. Practical knowledge of things that are directly relevant is preferable to insatiable pursuits of wisdom of which they do not have any need. Rather than endeavoring in such pursuits, children should focus instead on the practical aspects of things. Likewise, they must veer away from human interactions, except in instances where the people they are to interact with are rehearsed players in a planned environment.

That children must be allowed to be children and that they must be taught according to their level, I completely agree. Like Rousseau, I too believe that children must not be rushed to learn things they would eventually learn. However, I disagree with Rousseau that such activities as singing to children, reading to them, guiding them to walk, and guiding them to speak are forms of rushing children to learn. There are now studies showing that babies, even while they are in their mother’s wombs, are able to recognize voices and are picking up from the things in their mother’s surroundings. These studies show that introducing activities previously thought to be too high or too advance for children does not have negative impact on the children’s development; that, on the contrary, doing so facilitates the children’s learning.

My idea of teaching children according to their level is different from Rousseau’s. He would not facilitate learning of the things he says will be learnt by the child eventually, I would. He would not read to the child, I would. For me, doing so is not rushing the child to learn; it is providing him the things he might already be capable of picking up.

Rousseau’s program of education, which involves classifying activities and then deciding which of them are suitable for each stage of human development, (i.e., affective learning for the first stage; sense-focused lessons on the second stage) — of this I am not comfortable. I would rather adhere to the present educational system, where all types of learning are taught in each of the stages of development; only, they are taught gradually. Lessons are prepared such that children are taught the same concepts but the method and language of instruction differ in complexity (depending on the children’s level).

I am also not comfortable with Rousseau’s decision not to give children the gift of literary and art appreciation. As a struggling writer, I derive profound happiness and satisfaction from reading and creating literary works. I pity a child denied that kind of experience, especially if such child would have had the talent to create works of art had his talent been nurtured.

And while I agree that practical knowledge is very important for it is that form of knowledge that would help the children go through life as they grow older, I also would not dream of denying them the chance to pursue higher thinking if they are so inclined. (I will always say NO to mediocrity.)


On the whole, I would say that Rousseau’s idea of proper education is far removed from what is achievable. It is too “ideal.” As a manual on child rearing and teaching, his treatise is definitely impossible and impractical. The conditions one needs to create one Emile are beyond what one teacher — even the perfect one — can provide.

However, Rousseau’s treatise must not be completely ignored, either. There are points in the book which we can adapt to better teach our children. The idea of learning by discovery and by experience is one good example. Another is the idea of a child-centered learning, which now has good theories supporting its effectiveness and “superiority” over other methods.

The "Presence"

My plan was to fix my room first before I sit down in front of my PC to work on my class requirements. So I strode to my outer door, reached for the doorknob, turned it, and was about to pull the door open when I sniffed a familiar scent that froze me on the spot; my heart pounding fast, my knees weakening, and my senses sharpening with utmost dread.

I willed my weakened hand that was still on the doorknob to turn the metal and re-lock the door; my intent to get the soft broom just outside it now completely abandoned. I psyched myself into thinking my imagination was just playing a trick on me — but it didn’t work. The scent was just too strong for me to ignore.

But where could it be coming from? I had not lighted a candle, and I do not have a single ordinary candle in my room (I have but one candle sitting on my center table, but it is scented… and unlit). But my room did smell like someone had lighted one then put it off just inches away from me.

I uttered a prayer and told myself to calm down. With trembling knees, I forced myself to walk to my inner room. Once inside, I sat down on my chair, turned on my PC, and forced my fingers to tap on the keyboard and write this piece. I did not strive to ignore the unwelcome “presence”; it would be ineffective, I knew. Instead, I did quite the reverse. I acknowledged it and chronicled it. That didn’t chase the scent nor my fear of it away, but it did stop my overactive mind from forming images that would further frighten me.



//Note: It’s been 15 minutes since I first smelled it; but the scent still lingers, though less sharper now. I am still feeling weak, my heart is still beating hard, and my mind has now gone half-crazy. I am now contemplating of bursting into tears, but some kind of strength is emanating within me, inspiring me to calm down.

Slowly I am calming down. But the dread of this night — January 10, 2007, 10:19PM —shall forever be etched in my mind.

Truthiness: 2006 Merriam-Webster Word of the Year

The Merriam-Webster dictionary has announced the 2006 word of the year, and that is truthiness n., which may mean 1. "truth that comes from the gut, not books" (Stephen Colbert, Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report," October 2005); 2 : "the quality of preferring concepts or facts one wishes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true" (American Dialect Society, January 2006).

Next to it is the word Google, vt, meaning “to use the Google search engine to obtain information about (as a person) on the World Wide Web.”

2005 word of the year: integrity
2004 word of the year: blog

For those who are interested to know how a word gets into Merriam-Webster dictionary, click here.

The Newcomer

An angel in whose smile and laughter
we feel joy too intense for words;
and in whose presence we feel God’s grace;

A bundle of joy in whose eyes
we see beyond the present,
and for whom we anticipate the future;

A human being, yet too young and tiny
but already powerful — bringing us closer

and making us united in pursuit of love-filled life;

A little soul whose need for us
warms our hearts, humbles us, and inspires us
to endeavor to become our better selves;

You are all these, little one.
And more.



An ode for my nephew: Lucky Ryan D. Benosa, Jr. on his 6th month on Earth; January 4, 2007.

This piece was written while author was having lunch, January 5, 2007. Pasong Tamo Extn, Makati.

Richard Paul Evans on RD’s cover

The Reader’s Digest issue* I’m talking about is six years old, but I don’t mind. On its cover is one of my favorite contemporary writers — Richard Paul Evans, the author of three** of my favorite books: The Looking Glass, Timepiece, and The Locket.

On RPE’s works
Almost romance (but not the shallow kind silly young girls love to read) and somewhat inspirational, Mr. Evans’ works show his deep understanding of and respect for the human soul. Providing insights into the depths of humanity — the struggles and pains that plague it, the hopes and dreams that keep it going, and the joys and thrills that provide its deliverance from its hell — Mr. Evans’ works appeal both to the emotion and to the mind, and thug even at a harden man’s heart. His novels are the kind of work I love to read; and his themes, the kind which, for years, I’ve been hoping and struggling to be sensitive and wise enough to explore in my writings.

I’ve read quite a lot of books, but none has affected me as much as Mr. Evans’ works had. No other lines had come back to my mind as frequently and as readily as those I’ve encountered in his books. Several of his characters, though ordinary people, had even played the role of an adviser or grandparent in my mind, giving me a piece of their thoughts. Let me quote some (I will add more quotes when I have the books with me):

"Imagine a ship trying to set sail while towing an anchor. Cutting free is not a gift to the anchor. You must release that burden, not because the anchor is worthy, but because the ship is." — Esther Huish to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when Michael told Esther that he can never forgive his alcoholic father who abandoned him and his mother when his father was still alive.

"I love you, not for the things you have, or even what you might have or might become someday--but because of who you are right now and how you make me feel. I love the goodness of your heart. I have friends who have married rich boys with poor hearts and I pity them, in their new cars and big new homes, for all their poverty." — Faye Murrow to Michael Keddington (The Locket), when the latter was worried that he was so poor and had nothing to offer Faye, who was a rich doctor's daughter.


Another thing I love about Mr. Evans’ books are the diary entries of his characters with which he starts each chapter. Let me quote a few (again, I’ll add some more when I can):


“Rarely do we invest the time to open the book of another’s life. When we do, we are usually surprised to find its cover misleading and its reviews so flawed.” — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel

“I have come to believe that the defining moments of most lives are not the acts of courage or greatness; rather, they are the simple acts: expression of virtue or vice that are tossed carelessly like seeds from a farmer’s hand, leaving their fruits to be revealed at a future date. But not always. There are moments that are like some cosmic examinations. And like all examinations, there are those who pass and those who fail. — Michael Keddington’s journal in The Carousel

"There are times that I have been tempted to protect my heart from further disappointment with cynicism...But it would be like poisoning oneself to avoid being murdered." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket

"At times, hearts are the most traitorous of devices. They tumble headlong and blindly toward obvious dangers while they obstinately protect us from that which would likely do us the most good." — Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass

"I have learned a great truth of life. We do not succeed in spite of our challenges and difficulties, but rather, precisely because of them. — Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass

"I have made a grave mistake. I have carelessly handled a heart entrusted to mine. And in so doing I have broken both." —Hunter Bell's diary in The Looking Glass

"The most difficult of decisions are often not the ones in which we cannot determine the correct course, rather the ones in which we are certain of the path but fear the journey." — Esther Huish's diary in The Locket


On the RD article on RPE

As I read the piece on Mr. Evans written by Barbara Sande Dimmit, I felt I knew him. I am glad to note that we have something in common: that is, writing for our loved ones and presenting our creations to them as gifts. Dimmit writes that Mr. Evans' first novel, The Christmas Box, was written out of his love for his children. According to Dimmit, Mr. Evans thought that a book “written by him from the heart seemed the perfect gift.”

As for me, I’ve always thought that some of my better pieces are not among those that have been published; but those enjoyed only by the people for whom they were written and to whom they were presented as a gift. I often spend hours and sleepless nights writing a piece especially for someone whom I care about, and it’s such a great joy for me to know that the recipient of my creation treasures my gift; more so when he or she is affected by it. In fact, it was by writing for my family and friends that I realized I can write. When my dad told me I can, I didn’t believe him (I thought he was just blinded by his love for me). But when I realized that my "readers" are affected by my writings, I started asking myself, can I really write?


* I bought the RD last night from Books for Less when I saw RPE on the cover. That was after I decided not to buy a copy of his book which I have not yet read because I thought it was overpriced at second-hand. I think it’s only 60 pesos cheaper than the brand new version. I thought it wasn’t a good deal (kuripot, he he).

** Besides the titles I mentioned, RPE has also authored other books, including The Christmas Box, A Perfect Day, The Letter, and The Carousel.

Humor helps prolong life

It had always been assumed that sense of humor can help patients cope with their disease, but there were no available scientific studies to support this assumption.

Until now, that is.

A study by researchers from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology and St. Olav’s University Hospital in Trondheim found that sense of humor does help prolong life.

Published in the November 2006 issue of The International Journal of Psychiatry in Medicine, the study involved severe kidney patients (n = 52), most of whom required a once-a-week — others, daily — dialysis treatment. Forty-one of the patients completed a questionnaire that sought to determine their age, gender, education, quality of life, and sense of humor.

The researchers found that those who had high scores in their sense of humor had a reduced risk of dying from kidney disease within two years by as much as 30 percent. This was after adjustments for other factors affecting the patients’ health issues, quality of life and other conditions had been made.

The researchers concluded that sense of humor appeared to help kidney patients cope with their condition and, upon survival, protect them against the detrimental effects of disease-related stressors.


This piece is a rehashed version (by me) of the medical news article "Humour Helps You Live Longer" published in the Medical News Today website and of the research abstract available at the MdLinx website.