“I speak for the trees, for the tress have no tongues”

“Mister!”, he said with a sawdusty sneeze,
“I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees.
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues,
And I’m asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs” –
He was very upset as he shouted and puffed –
“What’s that THING you’ve made out of my Truffula tuft?” -Dr. Suess

I don’t get it.  Why cut pine and Alnus trees to build a parking lot?  Are they attempting to remake the Counting Crows “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot” song? And, yet we’re not just paving Baguio.   Our mountains and beaches, our rivers and lakes, our tremendous biodiversity and wild creatures, everything that other less-endowed countries would fiercely protect, we have paved to degradation.  Pristine beaches, two of the worlds natural wonders, the most biodiversity in the world, even giant creatures casually dropping by our waters, and yet: we pour concrete on mountain trails; paint “Jhun love Mhel” on rocks; make sewage out of rivers; erect makeshift stalls that peddle everything from frog keychains to fake bags; tie up and ride whale sharks; build resorts atop fragile ecosystems; and fashion life-sized statues of Disney and dinosaurs, as if the mountains, the waters and the sharks were not enough.  What is wrong with us?

Have you been to Baguio, the city of pines?  There’s neither the sight nor the scent of pines but concrete and smog. Where’s the view at Mines View, because all I see is a market and horses with pink hair? What is it about us that we have to turn everything into a market or a circus?  Oh, we find it so cute that our kids ride on them, and we take photographs too.

Have you been to Boracay? I was and didn’t swim at all.  All three days I spent mourning the demise of old Boracay where the waters were sapphire blue and not overrun by foul-smelling algae with flies. Can you imagine how much leaching to the sea happens from overflowing septic tanks (if there are sewage treatment plants at all!)? There ought to be an outbreak of hepatitis and gastroenteritis, these might drive out the swarm, serve nature well. (If you don’t know: excess sewage that flows directly to the sea stimulates the growth of algae.)

What about all the facilities that make it a luxury vacation? We don’t see it when they destroy mangroves and reefs to make way for roads, a nearby airport, marinas, and your room with the view. Look at SM.  182 felled a.k.a. earth-balled trees to pave the way for a parking lot and an entertainment center.  Well, come to think of it, we love malls more than we do the outdoors.

And then there’s the hiking up the mountain to see not one but 2, 3, even 7 waterfalls.  But I’m yet to see a mountain resort without graffiti on the rocks.  What is it with the “Boy was here!” scribbling?  Why show off your dirty crime? And what about packing after your merienda? Our trails are dotted with sardines cans and Chippy wrappers.  We once hiked up Mt. Makiling and lost count of the candy wrappers we picked on the trail.

And just as we like to eat, we like to feed animals as well, from adorable tarsiers to the novel hand feeding of gigantic whale sharks.  What happens when you tamper with the wild, when you alter feeding patterns, or take them out of their migration routes?  Visit Oslob and we now have wildlife nudging boats, begging for food.

And there isn’t anyone watching out for what goes on below either.  So much trampling happens underwater.  As a country with the most biodiversity in the world (in the world!), we take our multicolored reefs for granted. But I’ve seen many go bonkers over the site of a tiny nudibranch or a Spanish dancer.  Can we just stop selling or buying corals and cowrie shells as souvenirs?

Why do we would bite the hand that feeds us? You don’t even have to do the math to understand the economics.  Preserve the natural environment and you draw tourists. Having an unspoiled natural wonder increases its value, so it then becomes your largest source of income.   Instead of lugging tourists around paved walkways (oh boy, they even carry you in Styrofoam boxes so you don’t get wet!), distracting them with wares or obscuring their views, why not leave it all up to raw, wild, and glorious nature? And because you will have their undivided attention, tell them about the folklore, where places get their names, natural cycles, kingfishers, slates, sea stars and banyan trees.  It didn’t take much incitement or prodding for my kids to adore the sea, or dote on the endangered spotted deer, even understand how you can grow worms for birdfeed.  All I had to do was bring them there.

Yes there are still a few patches of unspoiled paradise with daring stewards here and there.  I enjoyed Coron (7 years ago), Siargao, Siquijor and Isla Naburot, have a high regard for Danjugan Island, the School of the Seas and Siliman University, even admire how organized Donsol is now.  I’m pinning my hopes that someday, we can see perfect coned mountains, our sapphire waters, the spotted gentle giants, even our verdant pine trees, for exactly for what they are worth. Until then, tourism will choose creature comforts at nature’s expense, so one day you’re swimming in sludge, captive in a strange paradise of pink horses and domesticated sharks, with a parking lot for a tree.

*Pictures posted here are not mine.

Concocting an Ocean Elixir

“for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)/it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.”  e.e. cummings

Been back in the city for three days and already I am losing myself- to lethargy, to irritation, to gloom, all these despite the sun. Bliss was easily found in the ocean, while I was lounging on our humongous banca or floating in the blue, trailing after whale sharks and chasing turtles. The heavens graced us with blue skies and glassy seas, and the sea bestowed us dancing dolphins, flying fishes, and even stinging sea urchins. But over here, sitting atop 14 floors, smog in view and with the hum of generators, it’s quite a steep climb towards happy. I have to consciously snap out of my brooding, read books, listen to birdsong, and spend a minute everyday watching clouds. These or I’m back to miserable urban everyday.

Oh if I could only occupy entire days lazing out in the sun with a good book, sand between my toes, sea scent on my hair, and salt spray on my skin. What is it about the ocean that cures even the most hopeless of woes? Because if I could paint heaven it would be an endless swirl of blue and green, aquamarine specked with silver.

But my reality is the city and would have to contend with a life like so. One cannot spend a lifetime wishing she were on vacation, wallowing in a beach fetish.  So I kept wondering if there was a potion I could concoct, some elixir that carries me to the ocean at will.  Maybe I could have the sea in a bottle as a remedy for melancholy.  (A bathtub, no matter how hard I try, is a poor substitute for the beach, despite the salt I dump in or candles I burn.)

And so I put together the ingredients for my ocean elixir.  What was the lure of the ocean?

I always associate being at the beach with joy. My best memories of childhood were entire days in the briny sea, us going home as scrawny, dark, salted and sanded creatures that reeked of seaweed and sunshine. I wonder if every other moment at sea, merely returns me to that carefree moment in time. There are other elements too: as extraordinary as being touched by the Divine, a sense that we’re somehow communing with the sacred.  Maybe it’s also because the ocean briefly allows us solitude, with nothing but the music of waves to set time by.  Then there’s catching sight of spectacular beauty, as the sun breaks in the morning or colors my sky with pink and orange at dusk.  Or maybe it’s because the stars glow so much brighter in the ocean night. Or simply, it is the gift of friends, because we’re suddenly spending real time together, weaving stories anew, and hearing laughter instead of reading “hahas” on the screen. (It could also be because Rum Coke lives in the beach.) Or maybe it’s as ordinary as having unbroken time with my children and being a child again, as we trapped hermit crabs, marveled at the blue starfish, built sandcastles and ditches, as I played mermaid and passed on the glory of underwater somersaults to my daughter.

So here I am, three days after my beach holiday. I was bemoaning my lack of sea and sand, and already waiting for next time I went “home” again. But a mermaid who has opted for legs should find ways to survive the city jungle. Perhaps, if I am able to find the ingredients for my ocean elixir in this city, I could hit on a cure. And so, I’m off to forage for the elements of my sea fix: a slice of happy memories + hints of the Divine + a little solitude + a patch of beauty + genuine laughter with friends + unbroken time with kids + childlike wonder. Perhaps once I have unearthed these, there’d be no need to share my woes with the sirens, chase around after whales, or bury my gloom in the ocean floor.

Live and Let Live: Why Not Caring is the new way to Create Change

I was reading a magazine article and found this:

“Love them unconditionally? Stop giving a damn what they do.”

Which really drives at: “Don’t care.”  It pronounces that the path to true love is to love them enough so that you don’t care what happens to them.  You just love them the same. Pure acceptance. Can I honestly do that?  Let “live and let live” my dysfunctional family. Have them carry on and stop making a fuss when they flounder and fall (in my standards.)  Stop bothering my husband about neatness, sugar or driving.  Never worry about my loved ones’ lack of future. Or maybe, assure my best bud that I don’t care if she stays in her abusive relationship. Just let them be.  Is that love?

Tough. Love. But it does make sense.  Because embedded in my trying to fix things and those I love, are my judgments about right and wrong.  My opinion of what they ought to be, should feel or be doing. Somehow I keep telling them they are not enough, could do so much better, be happier, even that they are not living their fullest potential.

What if I just stopped all this devotion? What if I commit to trust the larger Intelligence that puts them exactly where they are? Because the truth is, I wouldn’t love them less if they stayed the same. If they are back to being lazy, or getting into fights, if they eat processed food, if they have never changed, and even if they stay in an abusive relationship, I love them just the same. Love=acceptance.

Too much tending robs us of energy, and there’s little to gain from it. Smother them with love and you unwittingly attack, invoke defensiveness, and you’re left with disappointment, guilt or aching isolation.  As I get obsessed in fixing, in demanding change, in pushing, in putting things to right, my care overshadows the true joy of just having things be. Why fix those we love? They are not broken.

I remember my father in law irritably barking at my husband who was trying to help him out of the car.  He was annoyed that we had someone trail him as he took his everyday stroll. “If I need help, I’ll ask you.  But right now, I could still walk!” And so we resolved to let him be.  And so live and let live, with everyone you love and truly care about.  Resolve to let them be.  They will ask when they need you. Right now, they could still walk. So have them walk their own paths, be it straight or twisted.  Make way for their own remarkable journeys.  Stop handing them well-trodden roads or change their courses. It is a life fully lived no matter what just because it is theirs.

And maybe you think this article is coldhearted and full of nonsense. I actually, respectfully and lovingly, also don’t give a damn what you think.

Inspired by the article May We Help You? I Don’t Care by Martha Beck

SUMMER ARSENAL: Some au naturale tips against the summer’s scorching side

JELLYFISH

Jellyfish stings cannot be treated with pee.  Really.  Instead, the urine might even make it worse as it causes the nematocysts (the stingers that jellyfish leave behind on your skin) to inject more venom into you.

Best natural remedy: Wipe with a towel and rinse with vinegar.

The trick is to remove the nematocysts without triggering them. Water and urine may trigger them so the best way is to use sand or a towel to remove the tentacles without touching.  I have even removed the tentacles with a shell. (Touching with your bare hands may result in more stings!)

Then rinse the area with vinegar or if that’s not available, use saltwater (not fresh). Note that this is the remedy for box jellyfish (not Man of War or other deadly jellyfishes.)

SANDMITES

If you’re sitting by a beautiful sandy shore and suddenly find yourself itching like crazy with tiny red welts on your skin, chances are, sand mites have attacked you.  You can’t see them but I assure you, they are there.

Best natural remedy: To get the itch out, soak the skin in a bath (oatmeal in the water relieves the itch).  A natural way is to make a paste of baking soda and water and applying it on your skin.  Or use Aloe Vera: just pull leaf off the plant and dab the gel on your itch-ies.

SUNBURN

Sunburn DOES NOT fade into a beautiful tan.  If you burn your skin and nature will definitely not reward you with a tan. Instead, you get freckles, sunspots and wrinkles, (worst, you’re on your way to skin cancer.)

Sunburn happens because your skin is inflamed from the ultraviolet rays you have just soaked up.  Some natural ways to boost your skin’s reaction to the sun is to load up on antioxidants.

Best natural remedy: They say antioxidants raise your sunburn threshold. So eating your bright colored vegetables (and red wine of course) might help.  Still, you should always wear sunscreen! My picks: Healthy Options has Nature’s Gate, Jasons and Alba Botanica, some alternative sunscreens you may want to try.  For kids, there’s also Earth’s Best and Badger’s you can get from Rustan’s.  Also note that there is no sunscreen that can block all 100% of the sun.  Your best block is still a hat and clothes!  SPF 30 cuts out 97% of the sun while SPF 50 cuts out 98%.  So, actually, we don’t need to buy more than 30SPF.

To treat sunburn, cool off with Aloe Vera or I read you can soak a washcloth in milk and make a cold compress. One thing I have done is to soak in a tub with baking soda and also by putting cucumber slices on my sunburn.

SUN-DAMAGED HAIR

Hair can get too much sun exposure and get dry or even break.  Another culprit is chlorine or saltwater.

Best natural remedy:  Some people like to wear a hat or a ponytail.  You can put some coconut oil on your hair or a leave-in conditioner. But after a day spent in the sun, what you can do is put some olive oil on your hair. You can even mix some drops of rosemary or jasmine oil.  Leave it for an hour or so then wash it off.

MOSQUITOES

The bugs are definitely out and about this summer.  Here are some secrets: You can ward off mosquitoes by taking a shower and wearing light colored clothes. Really.  I heard mosquitoes are attracted to sweat and dark colored clothing.

Best natural mosquito-repellant:  Don’t sweat.  Wear light colored clothing.  Use plant-based repellants.  My best bet so far has been citronella oil mixed with coconut oil.  (A formula: 25 drops essential oil + 2 tbsp. coconut oil.) or buy a good natural repellant (just make sure the blend has about 10% citronella oil.) I always like the oil-based ones rather than the spray. Other essential oils that help (even repels ticks) are eucalyptus and lavender oils.

A good local insect repellant brand is Bug Off made of coconut oil, citronella, lemongrass and lavender.   I have found the bottles at EchoStore and also at Sesou Nature Source.  To help with the itch, I use Weleda’s Combudron Ointment.  But some natural remedies are: rubbing garlic on the itch, aloe vera gel (again!), or squeezing juice from a lemon. 

A good Summer Aid Kit: Vinegar, Oatmeal or Baking Soda, an Aloe Vera plant, Olive and Coconut Oil, and Essential Oils: Citronella, Lavender or Jasmine

(Information from years of a beach fetish and Whole Living magazine)

Why Farmers Live Forever

The rickety Karumata

A bumpy Carabao ride, trees filled with the promise of fruit, pigs romping in muddied pools, dragonflies I couldn’t count, a gulp of milk from cows we milked ourselves, and feeding the ducks, that was our morning. It was granddad’s 82nd birthday and Wowo had spent his morning at the farm, up before everyone else. I was wondering why so. On my birthday, I would skip work and perhaps do something special. But, as he did every day all his life, granddad started his day to the rooster’s crow, taking in the scent of cows (and dung), and walking the entire stretch of his farm, jubilant, just like his fruit trees bursting with flowers. We followed him to the farm, my daughters and I riding the “Karumata”, a rickety wagon driven by a carabao, because one farmer thought it was too far a walk for our feeble city legs and we couldn’t take icky mud. First stop was the pigsty. The pigs had just moved to a new romp and rollick pen. In the world of pig, this was the castle of your dreams.

The pigs had two mud pools, wide open spaces, rich green grass and an expansive backdrop of sky. Although, my 4 year old kept asking me what happened to them after they had “pigged out.” To which I said: “shh.” (After all, one greedy pig ended up on my father-in-law’s birthday buffet.)

We found their grandfather 2 hours later in his hat and boots, cheerfully romping around in his version of castle. I was watching him from afar, in awe at how at 82 he could still hike up his entire farm, steep, lumpy and muddy in places, with just a walking stick for company. Not to be outdone by an 82-year old cowboy, we ditched our very bumpy ride to stroll with Wowo. We walked for another half hour, surrounded by Mango, Guava, Pomelo (too many trees I couldn’t name,) and alongside Mother Goose and Jemina Puddle Duck. Wowo stopped a few times to cackle call the hens and ducks, who amazingly came waddling, patiently waiting for breakfast. The sun was scorching when we got out of the trees. But there were still cows to be milked and Wowo had promised my girls they were going to feed the ducks together.

Domeka's eyeing this pony.

Enjoying their stroll

It was the perfect birthday for their cowboy and gentleman grand-farmer. The trees were full to bursting with yellow flowers, there was abundant grass for the cattle, the milk was flowing, the pigs were enjoying their swimming pools, and the ducks just had breakfast. My 4-year was now strolling around with a stick, mirroring her granddad. She was at her best self, because Wowo promised her the brown colt we just passed. My 7-year old proudly declared: “Mommy, I’m going to be a cowgirl when I grow up.” Perhaps my children understood as only children could, what was left unsaid but deeply felt. Here was a contented man who lives, as he ought to. As himself. Working his passion, doing what he loved to do, not an hour or two a day, or just on the weekends. Here was someone spending his everyday “surrounded by cows and china.” (Thank you Charles Dickens.) Which brings me to this conclusion: Flossing, sunscreen and watching what you eat won’t get you to 82 and still able to walk for miles in rough, muddied and uneven ground. Waking up to a rooster crow, breathing in fresh air, working the land, and doing exactly what you love, everyday for the rest of your life, is the only age-old secret you need. (That, and of course, and beautiful grandchildren to feed the ducks with.)

At the hen (and duck) house

Bad Food Gone Good

I thought I’d write a bit about misconceptions about “bad” food.  Politically correct nutrition says these are the food you shouldn’t be eating.  I dare-say these are actually food you SHOULD be eating. Really,  not everything that tastes wickedly delicious is sinful.

1. Butter

Myth: Butter is dangerous. It causes chronic high cholesterol levels. Anything that is tastes exquisitely divine should be bad for you right?

Truth: The French were right. Good old-fashioned butter is good for you. It has in fact always been a staple, valued by countless traditional diets.

Why? Butter is your best source of fat-soluble vitamins A, D, K and E.  Vitamin A is actually best absorbed and utilized from butter than from any other source.  These vitamins are “catalysts” or “activators” that utilize the minerals we ingest. Butter also contains anti-oxidants, everyone’s favorite health word. In fact, “it is a rich source of selenium, a vital anti-oxidant–containing more per gram than herring or wheat germ.”

Best of all, that butter makes you fat is a misconception.  “The short and medium chain fatty acids in butter are not stored in the adipose tissue, but are used for quick energy.  That’s why butter makes you feel full and satisfied and you don’t need to crave or binge after.

*And research does not actually support the claim that butter causes high cholesterol. “Stearic acid, the main component of butterfat, actually lowers cholesterol!”  (Weston Price Foundation, “The Skinny on Fats”)

2.    Eggs

Myth: Eggs are high in cholesterol and bad for your heart.

Truth: (Disclaimer: only for free range poultry): Eggs contain dietary cholesterol. The culprit for raising your blood cholesterol and giving you heart disease is not really dietary cholesterol.   It is a number of other factors in modern diets like your excess consumption of vegetable oils and refined carbohydrates. Trans fats are bigger culprits in raising your blood cholesterol.  Not only that. Eggs “constitute the most complete, nutritious and economical form of animal protein available.” (Nourishing Traditions, Sally Fallon)

3.    Red Meat

Myth: full of saturated fat and dietary cholesterol and bad for the heart.

The truth: Lean beef, and beef from grass fed or pastured cows are a low-fat source of protein and iron, essential minerals that will help get oxygen from your lungs to the cells in your body. Pick meat that is a deep red (not bright red) color with very little fat or marbling.  Chances are these are lean and or raised with little or no grain.

4.    Chocolate

The myth: fatty and filled with sugar. And of course anything that tastes wonderful should be bad right?

The truth: Dark chocolate is the key. It contains antioxidants that seem to help with blood-thinning, another good thing for your heart.  “Researchers in Switzerland reported that eating dark chocolate (1.4 ounces of it) every day for two weeks reduced stress hormones, including cortisol, in highly stressed people.”

5.    Coconut Oil

The myth: High in saturated fat and hated by those who diet.

The Truth: Not all fats are created equal. There is good fat and bad fat. Truly. Coconut oil is made of medium-chain triglycerides, fats that can be metabolized faster than the long-chain variety found in other oils like sunflower. “They’re rarely stored as fat because the body prefers to use them for energy,” says Jonny Bowden, Ph.D., author of The 150 Healthiest Foods on Earth.  Good saturated fats such as those you find in coconut oil, animal fat, (butter, lard, tallow) are the carriers of fat soluble vitamins A, D, E and K, and are needed to convert carotene to Vitamin A. Good fats will also help your body incorporate calcium into your skeletal structure, protects your liver from alcohol and toxins (yes that’s why they say eat oily food when you drink) and enhance your immune system. Lastly, these fatty acids have antimicrobial properties that protect you from harmful microorganisms in the gut.

Now here are some health food you should be wary of.

Sources:  

http://www.eatingwell.com “Bad Foods you should be eating” 

http://www.menshealth.com “Junk Food that’s Good for you”

Sally Fallon’s Nourishing Traditions

Photo from: http://blog.soliditytrade.com/dark-chocolate-prevents-damage-from-strokes/

Spilling the Beans: “Health” Food you should be wary of

Granola Bars

Granola bars are loaded with fat and sugar! That is why they taste good. Check out the nutrition label because maybe the sugar and calories are about the same as a chocolate bar.   Most of them contain saturated fat, additives, artificial colors and flavors too.

Fruit Smoothies

Ok so it’s fruit but wait, check out the amount of sugar syrup they add to it.  You might as well drink soda. My rule: the sweeter it tastes, the unhealthier it is.  What you can do is ask them not to put sugar syrup in your smoothie.

Dried Fruit

Banana chips, dried pineapples or dried mangoes, you think these are healthier alternatives, right? Again, because of the drying, much of the sugar of the fruit is now concentrated (thus, higher in sugar than fresh fruit.)  Some of the fruits’ nutrients are also lost during the drying. Worst, most of what we have in our supermarkets have been further sweetened with sugar.

Commercial yogurt

Yes, yoghurt, the one you buy at the grocery with all those yummy flavors may not be as healthy as you think.  Again, they add too much sugar to make it more appealing.  Just make sure that when you buy your yoghurt, you check the ingredients and nutrition label (or maybe make your own.)

Frozen yogurt or yogurt ice cream

Most of the frozen yogurt you see is just plain sugar.  The ingredients? Fructose, dextrose, maltodextrin, non-fat milk, yogurt powder AND of course, probiotic! That’s sugar+sugar+sugar, commercial milk, powder and to make it yogurt, some probiotic in it.  It’s not at all a healthy snack but junk food. I think you’re better off eating ice cream. Really.

Vegetable Oil like corn, sunflower, soybean or canola oil

Well, first, it is because corn and soybean are among the most genetically modified crops. Second, these hydrogenated oils contain high levels of trans fat. The “hydrogenation” process is what allows these oils to be solid at room temperature so they can be sold as margarine or shortening. Hydrogenation is also what destroys the oils’ fatty acids, turning these acids into trans fat. Lastly, corn, sunflower and soybean oils contain over 50% percent omega 6 and small amounts of omega 3.

Tofu

The reason why I am so wary of tofu is that most tofu is made of genetically modified soybean (and I can never tell whether it is or not.) It is also not low in fat as most people think. In fact it is 54% fat, more than most meats.  I still eat tofu, but in very little amounts.

Commercial pasteurized milk

The modern milking cow has been injected with growth hormones and fed with soybean meal (instead of green plants.)  The soybean meal stimulates them to give more milk but has led to sterility, liver problems and shorter lives for these cows.  Aside from these, pasteurization destroys helpful organisms in milk (such as lactic-acid producing bacteria that protects against pathogens.)  It also reduces the milk’s mineral components (calcium, magnesium, potassium, etc.)  The heat also alters the milk’s amino acids and destroys vitamins (such as Vitamin C and B12.)  Lastly, pasteurization destroys ALL the milk enzymes.  Yes, because the test for a successful pasteurization process is the absence of enzymes! These are the very enzymes that help the body assimilate calcium.

Sugar-free

There is nothing natural in Nutrasweet! It is artificial sugar. Aspartame is a neurotoxin that has been associated with health problems and when it is digested, it breaks down into, among others, methanol.  Splenda is actually chemical chlorine. Then there is Stevia, the natural sugar substitute. However, did you know that this controversial natural sweetener has been banned in the EU? http://www.cspinet.org/new/200808281.html

Fruit juice concentrate and vitamin water

Always read the label. Concentrates, energy drinks and vitamin water are often loaded with sugar, almost as much as soft drinks. Check if there are additives in it.  Make sure there are no added high fructose corn syrup or other high-calorie additives. According to Sally Fallon, “there is as much sugar in a glass of orange juice as there is in a candy bar and most of it is fructose, more harmful than the sucrose of sugar.”

Some information taken from Sally Fallon’s “Nourishing Traditions”

*BIG Disclaimer: These are MY personal thoughts and opinion. I am not a medical doctor or qualified health care professional and not writing as such.  Please make your own health care and nutritional decisions. 

Raising a Green Baby in a Toxic World

A friend recently called me to ask about raising a baby while ensuring a sustainable lifestyle.  In the course of eight months, I have slowly accumulated some wisdom on bringing up a Green-Eyed Baby.

1. Diapers: Who would have ever imagined cloth diapers would make a comeback? Here’s a point to ponder: your baby will use approximately 6,000 diapers before toilet training AND disposable diapers take 200-500 years to decompose.  I know this firsthand.  Notice how those nasty potty-filled nappies are always floating around while you are relaxing at the beach!  More than this, studies have shown that “disposable diapers do release volatile organic compounds (VOCs). The main absorbent filler in disposable diapers is sodium polyacrylate, which could cause respiratory, as well as skin irritations.  Also, most diapers are bleached white with chlorine.”

Enter cloth diapers.  One study has found that home-washing cloth diapers has only 53% of the ecological footprint of disposables.  Do note that cloth diapers are not what they used to be (goodbye diaper pins!).  There are fitted cloth diapers with Velcro closures made of fleece.  These look like disposables but are just made of cloth. I searched for locally made cloth diapers and found Tussy Wussy by Next9. They sell these cute cloth diapers at P1,000 for a set of 3.  There’s also Terra Babies.  They sell Bumkins, Happy Heinys and Ipay cloth diapers.

Also, as you are aiming for sustainable, make sure that you use non-toxic detergent.  There is a local brand called Victoria at the supermarket.  It’s an herbal, non-toxic and biodegradable detergent.  Then there’s the old and reliable Perla White. And remember that you don’t have to iron the nappies.

I also found biodegradable diapers in Rustans/Shopwise.  These are called 7th Generation Diapers and made with plant-based plastics (non-petroleum based and are compostable.)  It’s about P700 for a set of 24 nappies.  I tried these and use the biodegradable diapers when we travel or during car trips. There is a local distributor for Earth’s Best diapers, which are chlorine free.  You can contact her 09178505766.  It’s P180 for 30 diapers and they deliver.

Some have gone to the extreme of “diaper freedom,” but I am not ready to venture into that.

2. Milk

Of course, breast is best!!!  Not only are you raising an ultra-healthy baby, it’s free and has no environmental footprint.  If you need breast-pads though, please remember you do not need the disposable ones.  Use cotton/cloth pads that you can reuse.  Also, your cracked or sore nipples do not need creams or ointments!  Really.  The medicine for the cracks or soreness is simple: just nurse some more.  It’s crazy but I swear by this method.  However, if you really really really think you need one, some say olive oil can do the job.

While we are on the subject of baby milk, let me add a few thoughts on bottle-feeding.  When you pump your milk, you will have to store the milk and feed your baby through baby bottles. If you still have not heard, mothers are concerned about toxic chemicals leaching from plastic bottles into milk.  I used Avent for both daughters (with no problem, yet) but Avent is labeled as #7 plastic, and thus has BPA.  I am now switching to BPA free bottles.  As I said in my old posts, #5 plastics are among the most recyclable and have not been found to leach potential hormone disruptors.  Off the web, I got the following information on #5 Baby bottles that you can try:

Rubbermaid Chuggables Bottles

Rubbermaid Sippin’ Sport Bottles

Evenflo Colored Baby Bottles

Evenflo Baby Bottles (opaque, pastel)

Gerber Baby Bottles (colors)

Medela Baby Bottles

Baby Bottles (Glass)

Lamby Glass Baby Bottles

Evenflo Glass Baby Bottles

While on the subject of milk, if you do not decide to breastfeed (please do) or have already weaned your child from the breast, I believe the next best milk is Goat’s Milk.  Since I weaned my daughter, I have given her Goat’s Milk.  Goat’s Milk is easier to digest than cow’s milk, higher in calcium.  A friend Hindy, sells Goat’s Milk and you can order by texting 0918-942-2611.

3. Solid food

Make your own!  Homemade Organic is best.  Buy local or organic veggies and fruits from the market, steam or mash them with a fork.  Simple!  You can also make brown rice cereal by cooking organic brown rice and putting it in a blender. What works for me are mangoes, squash, papaya, avocado, sayote, carrots,and bananas (limit the bananas though).  These are readily available and are locally grown.  For occasional situations when you need to buy baby food in jars for convenience, Rustans and Healthy Options carry organic baby food (from P50-100).

44. Clothing

Much as we love to dress our kids in the cutest, hard to resist ensembles, all they really need are a few comfortable fabrics.  I try to look for those that are made without toxic chemicals but sometimes the organic clothes are too pricey.  Kids grow out of their clothes amazingly fast.  What’s the most sustainable option?  Hand-me-downs!  I have to admit though, it is hard to resist and occasionally splurge on the new line of organic clothing.  A friend Donna Tumacder Esteban makes these cute organic onesies with One word on them like Hope, Faith, Love.  These are 100% natural unbleached, undyed cotton onesies and sells at P275. You can email her at dtesteban@yahoo.com. ALso, check out Cat in the Hat at Rustans.  These are so damn cute!

Oh, and when washing the baby clothes, use pure soap and warm water. You can use Victoria or Perla White. Ilog Maria has clear liquid soap too but the scent is sometimes overpowering.

55. Bath

Your baby does not need a spa treatment!  All they need is water and soap.  A number of pediatricians even recommend just washing baby with water. Really.  For the soaps, I recommend a local brand called Baby Blue by Nature Handmade Soaps.  A mom especially made the soaps for her atopic baby. (Call 09273100808)  There are also a number of handmade organic soaps in the market.  I found quite a few at the Saturday Market of Salcedo and the Sunday Market of Barangay San Lorenzo, Eco Serendra and Eco Market. Ilog Maria also has a few handmade soaps.  And please, don’t get sucked into all the baby ads.  You don’t need baby powders, oils, lotions, and colognes.  If you can’t resist the urge to use lotion, you can actually use plain old olive oil. There is also Oasis by Planet Noah http://oneplanetnoah.multiply.com. I use their Baby Oil and it’s simply delightful.  Once your baby has grown, and you need to lather her up with shampoo, conditioner, lotion or cologne, you might want to try the organic line of Burt’s Bees, Badger, Jasons, or Aveeno. There are also a number of baby products such as Insect Repellants, Sunblock, and diaper rash creams made by Indigo Baby indigomanila.multiply.com.  A product I highly recommend is Weleda, and made available to us by Centro Natura (you can call 9285386).

6. Wipes

Diaper wipes and liners commonly include propylene glycol, parabens and perfume, which can be made from up to 600 different chemicals. So what should you use?  Plain old water on cotton! When we travel, I bring a spray bottle with water and use small cotton washcloths as my wipes.

7. Toys

I can’t stress this enough about toys. Less is more.  Get back to basics and try old fashioned wooden toys or homemade toys.  I know it’s hard to say no to the plastic toys as these are everywhere, look so appealing to our kids, and inexpensive too.  But plastic, especially PVC vinyl, may contain lead, a neurotoxin; cadmium, a carcinogen; and phthalates, which have been linked to liver and kidney damage and cancer in animals. Babies put most things in their mouths, so go as natural as possible.  Also aim for toys that helps build a child’s bond with nature and the natural world.   If you need wooden toys, they are starting to have more choices at Rustans.  Hobbes also carries Haba and Melissa and Doug.  Local wooden toys are made by Tess Sobeng or Kraftek Trading (gtuano@yahoo.com.ph) carries wooden blocks and puzzles.  There is also Tahanang Walang Hagdan at Market Market.  Better yet, learn to see toys from nature, shells, wood, twigs, and flowers (remember how we used to thread santan to make wreaths, or squeeze the oil out of the gumamela flower.)

8. Furniture and accessories

This stresses me out.  Babies don’t need all those bouncy seats, baby videos and diaper genies!  They actually don’t need much.  For me, the basic and essentials are: a place to sleep (no pillows or comforters), a car seat, a high chair, a sling (check out Next.9 or Indigo Manila indigomanila.multiply.com for the local slings) and a stroller. The best thing about this advice is that it makes having a baby so much cheaper!  Oh and if you are looking for nice blankets, I found local hand woven blankets made in Iligan.  Nenuca Syquia has made exquisite designs on these classics.  Visit www.inabelblankets.multiply.com for details.

9. Home

Studies have shown that children brought up in over-cleaned houses are more likely to develop allergies, asthma, or eczema.  So don’t stress out.  The best thing you can do for your baby is just make sure you don’t cover him or her in synthetic chemicals.  Avoid exposure to the chemicals contained in everyday products such as paints, carpet, furniture, cleaners, cosmetics and pesticides. (You can check my old post on Homemade Pesticides). Use natural and low-VOC paints for baby’s room.  Davies has low-VOC paints. Germs and dust on the other hand, (i.e. let her play in the sand and get dirty!) are occasionally alright. Messy Bessy has recently introduced a product called Handy Nanny.  It’s a chemical free spray bottle of almost pure water with oils that you can use as a disinfectant. www.messybessy.com

At the end of the day, raising a natural baby while minimizing our impact on the Earth has really less to do with buying certain products.  We should always be mindful of simplicity and not to be so engaged in the consumer culture.  So instead of buying the baby gadgets and accessories, getting sucked in by the baby couture movement, or keeping up with the Jones’ baby…try to respond to your baby’s needs with love, respect and sensitivity, breast-feed her, keep her close to you, nurture with the magic of touch, and strive for balance in your everyday life.   I am certain then that parenting will come naturally.

Lighten your Footsteps on the Planet

He who would travel happily must travel lightly. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The future is indeed green.  I am sure you are up to your ears with endless suggestions for greener living.  Individuals young and old,  blogs left and right, and companies big and small (even Clorox!) have  innumerable tips for the Green Planet.  Before they further bombard you with more advice for a sustainable lifestyle, here are simple ways to live a greener and healthier everyday, without breaking the bank.

1.  Energy

One of the most effective ways to cut carbon emissions will also cut loads off your electric bill. Turn the lights off when you don’t use or need them, install energy efficient bulbs, buy energy-efficient appliances (look for the Energy Star rating), and keep a close eye on consumption.

Switch to Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs (CLFs).  CLFs use much less power and last ten times longer than regular bulbs.  CFLs are readily available at all hardwares and groceries, and they have all the sizes you need.  They even have candle-shaped CLFs for your chandeliers.  When buying new appliances, buy energy-efficient appliances.  New appliances have an Energy rating and some are proudly sporting the Energy Star.

TIP: Pull the plug, don’t make your electronics sleep on standby as these still pull current. Televisions or DVDs with standby modes can use up to half the power they would draw when turned on. Don’t just turn something off: unplug it.

2. Transport

One of the biggest impacts we make on the planet is through our cars and travel. We’ve heard about hybrid automobiles but since a new Hybrid car seems like a long shot (and expensive,) you can still reduce your carbon footprint by walking (when the route is not so far), biking, or commuting.  Carpooling is also another option.

TIP: Keep tires properly inflated, it saves a lot of gas.  I also read that the way you drive has a lot of effect on your fuel consumption.  Avoid sudden starts and stops and don’t go too fast.  Lastly, get a regular annual tune-up and maintain your car so you also burn less gas.

3. Water

“Every drop of tap water we use also requires energy to filter, purify and transport, and that means fossil fuel emissions.”   Water is also becoming an ever-scarcer resource. It’s easy to conserve water.  No dripping faucets!  Turn the tap off when you’re brushing your teeth, collect rainwater for use in your garden, or practice “selective flush” (don’t flush unless necessary.)  Another way is when washing dishes by hand, fill up the sink and turn off the water. Take shorter showers or shower with a friend (ha-ha!)

TIP: While reading on sustainable living, I learned that we should not dry-clean. They use perc (tetrachloroethylene), a known carcinogen to dry-clean clothes.

4. Food

To bring it back to basics, there are four principles that can help you:  eat local, eat seasonal, eat organic, and finally, eat less meat (the last one, is hard! I’m trying )).

You may check my previous article on Local v. Organic and Organic Food: When to Scrimp or Splurge.

TIP: By eating local you save a tremendous amount of wasted fossil fuels and packaging to get the food to where you are.

5. Waste

The 3Rs: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. A lot of us remember the last R: Recycle but please, always be conscious of REDUCE and REUSE.  Before buying a new item, think twice, or thrice, about whether you need it.  REDUCE.  Or, always REUSE items you would have otherwise deemed as junk or trash. Try to have a paperless office. Find use for the monthly billing envelopes.  Print on both sides of your paper or use up all or most of the spaces on paper. (There is a software that does that, See Greenprint Software.  You can also opt for environmentally friendly paper like recycled paper or Paper One (available at National Book Store.) Resources like Freecycle or Ebay can also help you find a happy home for your junk.

I also wrote an article on Recycling, you might want to check Recycle, but How? and More on Recycling.

TIP: Use rechargeable batteries instead of buying new batteries all the time.  Billions of batteries are manufactured each year and discarded after a single use.

6. Cosmetics

We all know about the impacts of personal care products on both the environment and on our health. There are now a lot of companies providing sustainable and local alternatives such as Planet Noah, Leyende, By Nature Handmade Soaps, Fresca, or IlogMaria, a Honeybee farm that has soap and oils, beeswax and wild honey. You might also want to see my previous post on Beauty Naturally.  It used to be so hard to find local and sustainable items but now they’re just about everywhere.  Two of the most complete stores are ECHO at Serendra Plaza, Bonifacio Global City and Eco Market at Market Market.  

TIP:  Less is almost always more.  Going “au natural” takes you a step further in caring for the plant.

7. Cleaning

Many everyday cleaning products are made up of nasty chemicals and toxins.  However, the natural cleaning products work too, sometimes even better. All you need are: vinegar and baking soda! Aside from making my own, I use some of Messy Bessy’s Products (www.messybessy.com), Victoria (for laundry soap) and then there’s a new brand called Plantex. I also use Ilog Maria’s Beeswax wood and leather wax for my wood, floors and leather. Take a look at my previous post on Green Cleaning.

TIP: . Vinegar and baking soda can be used to clean almost anything. Mix in a little warm water with either of these and you’ve got yourself an all-purpose cleaner.

8. Renewable energy credits

Another way to “offset” your carbon footprint is to buy  renewable energy credits (RECs). There are many websites that will help you calculate your energy consumption (although these are mostly US-based) and buy a requisite amount of RECs to compensate for it. To illustrate, to offset the amount of pollution you contribute by going to and from work, you buy “credits” from www.nativeenergy.com, a company that pools capital and invests it in wind energy or methane farm projects.  The websites I have found are www.terrapass.com and www.renewablechoice.com.

Lastly, there is so much information on green thinking and sustainable living these days, it’s difficult to decide which ones to follow.  The websites I deem useful are Grist (environmental news), Treehugger (Sustainable Living Blog) and National Geographic’s Green Guide.   Treehugger has Green Guides for those who wish to take the next step and live sustainably.   The easiest way is also to watch documentaries like An Inconvenient Truth, The 11th Hour and BBC’s Planet Earth.

Taken in part from the Green Guides of Treehugger and www.Lighterfootstep.com

The voyage of discovery lies not in finding new landscapes, but in having new eyes. Marcel Proust

Doing Less Having More

I remember my first Mother’s Day as if it was just yesterday.  It was not a celebration of motherhood but a momentous task of making sure that hundreds of flower boxes were sent on time to eager mothers everywhere in the Philippines.  It dawned on me that day: Mother’s Day would always be a WORK day for me, as though I was Mrs. Claus, managing my elves, and making sure Rudolf delivered everyone’s flowers that day.  And so it will be for every other major gift-giving holiday in the Philippines. All work and no play.

But this year, it was different.  Armed with my inner resolve to live more from less, I deliberately stopped receiving orders when I felt that we had enough orders to pay the bills, pay the effort, and have a little to celebrate with.  As I knowingly turned my back on having more materially, I found refuge in having more time to be with my husband and children, as we simply reveled in the blessings of motherhood. Instead of material gain, I found exquisite joy in going home and still having time for play, a relaxed and unhurried mealtime, watching my husband and daughter piggy-back on the pool, sleeping-in and awakening to a banner celebrating ME!

I am too much a lover of life to allow work to dominate my days, despite its material rewards.  Life is a precious and sacred gift, and I cannot afford to waste time pursuing the non-essentials.

With a lopsided culture that measures our worth by money and status, many of us fall into the trap or get caught up in a cycle of living to work, and not working to live.    I just hate it when people I meet right away ask me; “So what do you do?” “Where do you work?”  In this masochistic society, to be busy is a sign of importance.  It’s always about what you do and not who you are.  The harder you work, the higher you rise in the corporate ladder, the fatter your paycheck. It boggles a mind when those who only sleep four hours a night or work 12 hours a day evoke envy, not sympathy.

I used to watch the partners in the law firm where I worked.  The big honchos seemingly lived in the office- they came in early, worked as if there was no tomorrow, would have their fancy lunches and dinners, and then…viola, go back to work!  Of course, they had their flashy cars, sailboats, even a plane, but when will they find the time to delight in these? Do millions still matter when you’re stuck at work, as precious time flitters away? What about being at home to read a bedtime story and kiss your child goodnight, instead of just watching him sleep?  Come to think of it, with the number of hours they put in, if their profits or paychecks were divided by the hours worked, we might find that they’re actually working for peanuts!

A lot of us have placed too much value on work that we have forgotten how to live.  We never question why we have to work so much.  I understand the need to earn a living. Work puts food on the table, pays the bills, allows us comfort and indulges us with a little luxury.  However, many of us squander precious time at the office so we can, among other ironies: pay for the house we can’t enjoy; afford the nannies that raise our children so we can spend more time at work; buy vacations that we can only take once a year in a hurried and frantic pace (while we lug laptops and work even more!)

I believe the key is, as it often is, finding what is essential to you and then striking a balance between work and living a full life.  For some, this means refusing a tempting offer to go further up the corporate ladder to spend time at home raising children. For others, it could be detaching oneself from the lure of the multinational company and choosing a small company that allows free time to go on trips, go on adventures or explore new places.  And still, there are those that prefer the six figure salaries and grandiose perks to lost time with friends or family.  If the fat wad of cash every 15 days makes them truly happy, let them be.

I do not regret foregoing the additional orders that would have padded our wallets and allowed us that fat juicy Wagyu steak nearby.  If I took more orders, I wouldn’t have had the time for dinner on Mother’s Day anyway!  Looking back, I have never regretted leaving the glitzy world that would have provided me with the “Office with a View.”  In any event, I would have been buried in books to even see it!  I simply refuse to have the gift of a cherished life pass me by unnoticed. Success doesn’t have to have a title, or a suit, or a fat paycheck.  I make my own definition of success, one that involves less stress, and more time to do that which really matters.

Simplify

As you simplify your life,

the laws of the universe will be simpler;

solitude will not be solitude,

poverty will not be poverty,

nor weakness weakness.”

-Henry David Thoreau

I just came from Camiguin, to visit my husband’s 97-year-old grandmother.  If there is one thing to learn about this trip, it’s that simple living, in an island where the grass is green, the skies are blue, and the birds are still singing, is the elixir of youth.

I am not about to sell or give away all my material possessions and live in a nipa hut by the sea (actually, that’s a wonderful idea).  However, a glimpse of life without the trappings of modern city life, made me realize that we tend to over-complicate our lives with a lot of non-essentials, when we do not need much to survive.   Living simply means “a manner of living that is outwardly more simple and inwardly more rich.. [i[t is about living an examined life — one in which you have determined what is important, or "enough," for you, discarding the rest. [Duane Elgin, “Voluntary Simplicity.”]

We seem to be conditioned to be more, work more, amass more, have more.  It is as though worth is equated by the ownership of certain material possessions or living a certain life.  We are stuck in a merry-go-round of “having.” “I have to do this, have to buy this, have to get that.”  We live by the standards set out by those outside of us, then get overwhelmed by it, because simply, we are not living our own life. Worse, many of us are stuck in a cycle because we yearn to possess more, to feed the gnawing feeling inside us, to fill a bottomless void.

I fear that I am in too deep in this trap of modern life, that I have to keep living “for others” to fulfill the expectations of the world of men/women.  But then a simple trip to the province has ignited that spark in me, making me see that indeed, simple living is the key and that it has immeasurable rewards.  Living to live up to society’s expectations is living in a façade.  The empty gnawing feeling will never be filled so long as I live a life without purpose, as I overwhelm myself with things and tasks that I have to do, forgetting to breath, and too busy to figure out my own destiny.

Many of us are overly busy, stuck indoors, and over-burdened with chores or tasks that we become disconnected with our soul’s stirrings, nature, or our real purpose.  However, I have only to look at my grandmother and life at the country, and see how simplifying one’s life gives way to contentment.  Having less, makes room for the time and space to do what you really want to do.  I believe that once you have discovered what you really want to do, you can continue living a simple life, as your purpose overrides any of those things that complicate life.

Additionally, we should always remember our deep roots in the natural world.  It’s hard to do so in the city where buildings obstruct sunsets and the sky has turned ashen gray instead of blue.  But just be mindful of nature and you can still see a glimpse of natural miracles everyday. Find time to get outside with a reverence for nature and you will find a little serenity, remind you of simple pleasures and give you a taste of life’s rich bounty.

I am a long way from a simple life, farther even from contentment.  It’s difficult to rehabilitate oneself from the addiction of modern life and its excesses.  It is difficult to dissociate myself from society’s standards of material living. It would take a deliberate and conscious leap for me to live simply.  But I am certain it is possible, and the rewards, priceless. I have a friend who used to be so vain, she would obsess about her outfit for our class, more than studying for recitation, and would recite with her newly manicured nails in midair, afraid she would ruin her perfect nails. Believe it or not, she no longer wears make-up, does not care about fashion and is planning to move to the country!  Yet, I have not seen a more content person, whose everyday is filled with constant joy, not the momentary bursts of pleasure we often have.  I have made an inner resolve to take that arduous leap, eliminating all but the essential (will try )), finding time for solitude, and spending time doing what is important to me.  As Thoreau said, “Our life is frittered away by detail… Simplify, simplify.”

*While reading about living simply, I found the Simple Living Network, an online network for conscious, simple, healthy and restorative living. I also found some great tips on Simplifying from a book by Elaine St. James entitled “Simplify your Life:  100 Ways to Slow Down and Enjoy the Things that Really Matter”.

Local v. Organic

I was just at the weekly market at the Jaime Velasquez Park (Salcedo Market).  As always, the stall with the most people were the Organic Fruits and Vegetables stalls (well, ironically, aside from Ineng’s PORK barbeque.)  I just realized that with the hype on Organic produce today, everyone’s rushing to buy anything labeled “organic.”  But the term is being loosely used left and right.   And, with producers branding their produce as that, who knows if we really get what we want, and need.  My husband has been adamant about how in the Philippines, true “organic“ produce is hard to come by.  Strictly speaking, the fruit or vegetable must have been grown in land that has not used commercial fertilizer for the last three years.  And you know that in our country, that alone is quite a feat.  Also, a lot of experts argue that the environmental advantage of buying organic is negated when you are shipping the product over long distances.  Take the case of vegetables that are not indigenous to the Philippines such as spinach, cauliflower, apples and oranges.  These have to travel far distances to get to our markets, using vast resources and energy to get to us.  Imagine how much emissions we get from airplanes and trucks, as these produce travel over great distances.  Now if we buy these because they are labeled organic, now where is the “green” value of that?   Also, these temperate vegetables and fruits cannot simply thrive in our environment.  We can only product them if we use the very fungicide chemicals that we shun.  Additionally, fruits like mangoes normally would only fruit once a year, usually summer.  If these fruits are forced to flower and fruit, you would have to induce the same by pumping it with nitrates.  My take on this is this: BEST is Local and Organic; and NEXT BEST is Local and In Season.  Adjusting our diets to what is indigenous to the Philippines and what is in season ensures that what we get and eat are the freshest.  And, in addition to “saving the planet,” we support our local farmers.

*As of now, locally grown organic products include rice, fruits and vegetables (mostly carrots, celery, potatoes, onions and tomatoes), herbs and spices, soybean and honey.  There are some farms selling livestock and poultry, fish, dairy and fertilizers.  The main organic export products we have been successful with are muscovado sugar, bananas, and coconut oil.

Organic Food: When to Scrimp, When to Splurge

I read a great article on when it makes sense to buy organic and when the advantages are nil that it’s impractical to spend money on it.  Here’s the rundown:

FRUITS

When to spend on organic:

Apples: Among fruits, apples pack the highest level of pesticides overall!  The pesticides pool on the apple’s top and bottom.  So much for “An Apple a Day!.”

Cherries: Heavily contaminated with pesticides since worms love them.   You have no choice but to go organic.

Grapes:  This one, you can’t be sure.  Since grapes are not all imported to the Philippines, some grapes have high pesticide levels since international controls on pesticides are not rigorous on some countries.

Pears: Definitely.  The skin of pears is thin and the pesticide content is high.  They absorb chemicals directly into the flesh.

Strawberries:   Yes.  These grow too low on the ground and need high pesticide content to keep away soil bugs.  I have seen some farms in La Trinidad, Baguio that claim to be growing organic strawberries.  Do not be deceived by the label, we went into one of their greenhouses, and despite what they say, the berries were still being sprayed. 

When to Scrimp on it:

Avocados: Protected by tough skins, these are one of the most no-pesticide fruits.

Mangoes: Also protected by their skins and grow high in trees.  Be sure though that these are in season when you buy them.  Otherwise, the mangoes have been grown using flowering enhancers.

Bananas: These grow 30 feet above the ground and are protected by the tough banana skin.  Bananas have one of the lowest pesticide loads.

VEGETABLES

When to Spend on organic:

Peppers:  Yes. These vegetables are doused with pesticides and have the highest pesticide load of any vegetable.

Celery: Pesticides stay on the bottom of the bunch of celery stalks.   It is also said to have the most likely to contain multiple pesticides. You can still get away with it though if you prepare and wash these well.

Broccoli: If you are in the United States or live in temperate zones, broccoli has among the lowest pesticide levels.  However, these vegetables only grow in cold weather, and if grown elsewhere (i.e. tropics), would need fungicides to thrive during the rainy months.  Higher elevations would have more rainfall.  Most of the broccoli we get here are grown at higher than 700 meters and these entail over a 100 inches of rain a year.

Lettuce: Ease up on your salads or go organic.   Lettuce stay in the ground and bulk up on pesticide laden water.  They have the highest pesticide load of any vegetable.  If you can’t spend extra, reduce your exposure by removing the outer layers.

Spinach:  This one has got to be organic or your better off eating Gabby Leaves or Malunggay (plants endemic to the Philippines.)  Spinach is a ground-hugger like lettuce and drinks in pesticides through its stalks.  And unlike lettuce, you can’t remove its outer layers.

Potatoes:  Again, they just grow above the ground so farmers use chemicals to make sure they can harvest potatoes.  Pesticides are also ingested through the potato’s thin skin.

When to Scrimp on it:

Peas: Peas have among the lowest pesticide content and are protected by pods.

Camote/Sili or Fern Tops: These are tropical vegetables and will thrive anywhere and anytime without the use of pesticides or fungicides.

Malunggay/Gabby/Alogbate/Kangkong: Again, these are tropical vegetables and will thrive anywhere and anytime without the use of pesticides or fungicides.

In a nutshell:

1. Fruits or vegetables grown in the ground would have the most pesticides.  Those that grow in trees would have lower levels.

2. Fruits or vegetables with thick outer layers can be washed and/or peeled, and prepared properly to lessen the pesticide levels.

3. Fruits or vegetables that are temperate, can only be grown in high elevations in the Philippines.  These elevations have more rain, and thus require more fungicides to thrive.

4. You are better off, as always, eating what is endemic or indigenous to the Philippines, and in season. Go home and plant camote.
   

Taken in part: Environmental Working Group; Chensheng Lu, Emory University’s School of Public Health; United Fresh Produce Association

Homeopathic Remedies

I’ve been fortunate to have found a doctor who practices homeopathy and natural medicine.  My children are yet to take antibiotics, and their bodies have almost always naturally healed without conventional medicine.  Oatmeal for rashes on my three month old baby, water for the cough of my two year old (“that’s the first thing we learned in med school” she said), Tea Bags for their eye sores, Eucalyptus oil for clearing breath-ways, Echinacea to prevent the nasty flu from bugging us, Belladonna for fever, Tempra only if the body can’t cure itself.  Natural remedies have been used for centuries.   Remember how our moms used to make us Ginger “Salabat” tea for sore throats?  “Homeopathy has also been there for more than 200 years.  It is a gentle, holistic system of healing.  It focuses on you as an individual, concentrating on treating your specific physical and emotional symptoms.  [It uses a holistic perspective, taking the whole human being, his body and his psyche as well.]  The therapy is based on the theory of treating “like with like”. Homeopathic remedies are diluted natural substances that if given to a healthy person, would produce the symptoms the medicine is prescribed for.” What is nice about it is that Homeopathy is a complementary therapy, and is used alongside chiropractic, herbal medicine, acupuncture, and with most conventional medicines.  (See http://www.homeopathy-soh.org/about-homeopathy/what-is-homeopathy)  With my experience of homeopathy on my children, I have learned to approach sickness not as problems but as “need-bes” that contribute to the development of later, more stable states of health.  I have learned to trust in the body’s healing forces, taking fever, rashes, or vomiting, as signs of the body’s struggle to overcome infection, and achieving a higher level of immunity for the future.  I know that I owe the strength of my immune system to the fact that we, as children, were allowed to learn how to cope with germs.  We were allowed to survive illness with no fever suppressants, antibiotics, even some vaccines.  Also, I have come to value health as a balance and order in our bodily, emotional and mental functions and activities.  Our resistance to ill-health may be strengthened by love, security and a stable home environment. While I can’t say that I shun drugs or vaccination, I have learned to take the middle-ground, trying natural remedies first, then moving to homeopathic treatments, and if the infection is too strong, then drug my way into health.

Here’s my list of TOP homeopathic remedies (most of these I get from the ISIP Center, Dra. Chen or Dra. Baclig.  Healthy Options also carries homeopathic kits):

Echinicea:  Immune System, when someone in the house feels like getting a cold, the flu or fever

Ferrum Phosphate: Low grade Fever, Colds

Pyrite and Cinnabar: Cough

Apis Belladona: Fever, Infection

Sabadilla: Allergies

Constipation: Digestodoron

Diarrhea: Carbo Betullae

Asthma: Prunus, Veronica, Quercus

Chamomila: Sleeping, Migraine, Dysmenorrhea

Liver Detox: Hepatoderon

Stress/Anxiety: Bach Flower Essence: Rescue Remedy (from Healthy Options)

There are several doctors that now practice homeopathic medicine in the Philippines, aside from other holistic practices such as Reiki healing and curative Eurythmy. If you want to explore homeopathic medicine, alongside conventional medicine for your children, my doctor is Dra. Cricket Palanca-Chen.  You may reach her at her clinic at 632-8449185.  There is also a Raphael Clinic at the Isip Center, 6241 Palma St., Poblacion, Makati City. 632-895-84-21. The Clinic has wellness and healing programs on family medicine and pediatrics, general medicine, eurythmy, acupuncture, stress management and laser therapy.  For family medicine, I go to Dra. Pinky Baclig.  She has clinics in Makati (Th-Sat. at the Prince Tower, Tordesillas St.) or Quezon City (1-A Paciano Rizal Street, corner J.P. Rizal, Project 4, Quezon City.)  http://pvbaclig.wordpress.com.  You can also contact Dra. Baclig at 396 53 86 or 09177068951.

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K.I.S.S.

So now I am attempting to write and K.I.S.S. (Keep It Short and Sweet, or)(Keep it Short and Simple, or)(Keep it Short, Stupid, or).  I know, I am rambling again. Perhaps, it would a cinch. It could be complicated.  Because how do I cram entire thoughts, circuitous, brooding, pondering thoughts that fill me up to the brim?  With the demanding requirement of keeping it sweet.  Tough feat.  But here goes simple. I hope I can keep it beguilingly fudgy and dark, like the Dark Chocolate Lava cake I just had.

Notes to Self

1.  Bring reusable bag everywhere.  If I forget it, I don’t buy anything (or stuff my handbag silly.)

2.  No processed food= less energy (to produce it) and packaging.  (That includes El Rey.)

3.  Back to vinegar, baking soda and olive oil for cleaning.

4.  Remember that less meat= less livestock consumption= less pollution.  Roasted steak is only eaten once every two weeks.

5.  No bottled water.  Bring own bottle. If I don’t bring it, die of thirst.

6.  No more fast food. (That includes Mini Stop Fried Chicken.  Maybe once a month?)

7.  Brew own coffee.  Skip cafes?  (Maybe not yet. Revise to: Bring own coffee mug.)

8.  Shut down laptop at night.

9.   No more To Go’s.  Bring own container.

10.  Grow more vegetables. And eat them too.

Won’t drink again

I have a headache that feels like the Big Bad Wolf knocking: “Let me come in.” They made me gulp down Sambuca a.k.a. Burn Bugsy Burn. I cannot believe I sucked in the ghastly alcohol that was smoking up the glass. Fred the Bartender had flared up the booze and mad, but I drew the vapor in. If it looks dangerous to the health, it should be dangerous to the health. I want to pull out my head and take out the little demons that are hammering within. Woke up with a sore throat too.  Why did I stay in the Smoking section when I don’t smoke?  I surely didn’t need vapor or smog to do the typewriter dance, even laugh for no reason.  And this scene looks shamefully too familiar.  So tell me, why do I never learn?

What I learned from Nora Ephron’s Julie and Julia

1.  I don’t want to cook. The movie was meant to inspire me and whip up a culinary masterpiece.  What it did? Made me run the other way.  Complicated kitchen wizardry. Sewing a duck with those gooey things inside?  Zilch desire.

2.  “Forget love, I’d rather fall in chocolate.” We were born to devour, savor, lick, munch, sup, and slurp our way into what could be a taste of heaven.  The gods were definitely genius when they adjudged the pursuit of food as the earthy thing to do. Have carnal knowledge of butter, oysters and chocolate frosting, and it is a transcendental, sensual moment. No wonder food and sex use the same adjectives.  And after that movie, I was hungry.  Had an insatiable appetite. For food.

3.  With airfreight, Internet and eggbeaters, there is zero excuse for bland food. Julia Child had to live in France, translate Boeuf and Poulet and build up muscles with a mortar and pestle. We have Brie next door and hollandaise in a bottle, the Beef Bourguignon recipe in one-mouse click and whirring machines that beat everything to a pulp. We’re being spoon-fed, to taste the world on a platter.

4.  Nora Ephron movies leave me like mush and wanting to be a good person again. Wish I were Julia, jolly and good-natured, taking everything in stride (big ones too.) When she blundered, whether the recipe or her life, she took it with her chirpy, quirky charisma. “You can always pick it up if you’re alone in the kitchen. Who’s going to see it?”  Life was like a lighthearted recipe to try, everything a possible divine dollop. Because really, “you could never have too much butter.” Can never have too much joie de vivre.

5.  I’m curious, did those two good men (Paul Child and Steve) really exist? In real life? Butter me up.

This Week: Walk Past Cafes

Read from More Minimal: “We are shopping our planet to death.” Consumerism, and that includes our voracious desire for plasma TV, this laptop computer, that Iphone, and “I cannot keep wearing the same outfit” needs.  Think about it, when people recently donated to flood victims, they sent truckloads of clothes. Now tell me, why did we have so many clothes stashed away in storage boxes? My carbon footprint is now as big as a Mammoth that gobbles up “all things pretty” her way. It does not help that I work fifteen giant steps across Greenbelt. I have to transform my worldly ways. Stop consuming so callously, oblivious to the invisible emissions I release for every thread count and every coffee cup.  My daughter is happy playing with blocks of wood and has built an entire castle and train off them.  I should already make myself a princess out of my monstrous armoire of clothes. I wrote about SIMPLIFYING a year ago and yet there are greedy Mammoth days.  And I cannot retire from caffeine-at-the-cafe addiction, which means C footprints that pile up everyday.  Why won’t I brew my own brew? Which should be my motive this week.  No caffeine from cafes. Next week: no clothes shopping.

COP 15: Who gives a hoot?

I honestly had no clue. Except that a few weeks ago Climate Change stared me in the face: 700 dead and Metro Manila turning into Waterworld. A month’s worth of rain in a day escorted by a storm that would not leave. As if Nature is forewarning us: “You’re in deep water.” Climate Change and its surge, largely depends on what the big economies do about greenhouse emissions, trees and waste. The more the big people burn, the more the small people (that means us) get scorched. Still, economies aside, we all share the same planet and should all bear responsibility.

So again, what is COP 15, and why should we care? On December 7-18, the world’s biggest and smallest (192 countries), the guzzlers and those running out of steam, are going to meet and execute an agreement.  This agreement on Global Climate Change will substitute the Kyoto Protocol expiring in 2012. Scientists hope that the guzzlers would agree to reduce emissions in the range of 25-40% by 2020.  Thus, humanity will attempt to halt Climate Change while it still can. It’s called COP because it stands for Conference of the Parties (the highest body of the UN Framework Convention for Climate Change.)  It is 15 as it is the 15th Conference of the Parties. Without sounding like Armageddon, the fate of the entire planet may hinge on COP 15. And that’s why I’m not COPping out on this one.

More on COP 15: What’s at Stake in Five Minutes, Countdown to Copenhagen, UN Climate Change Conference

350 seeds on October 24, 2009.

We’re planting 350 seeds on October 24, 2009.

Here’s the plan. Take one day and wield it to stop the climate from going haywire. October 24, 2009 is the International Day of Climate Action.  The goal is, wherever you are on Oct. 24, organize an action using the number 350 as a symbol.

Why 350? 350 p.p.m. is the safe upper limit for carbon dioxide in our atmosphere.  We are now at 387 p.p.m. (and that is why we had the torrential rain) BUT we may still manage it back to the safe zone. How? Your small step, one giant leap for mankind.  Again, wherever you are on Oct. 24, do something using the number 350. Take a picture that speaks 350 words to our world leaders. Upload the photo to 350.org and they will deliver a visual petition from the entire planet to the powers that be.

With less than a week to go, people around the world have committed to: plant 350 trees in Bangladesh, hang 350 banners in Easter Island, have 350 divers in the Great Barrier Reef, and toll church bells 350 times. Even Buddhist monks have formed 350 with their bodies against the backdrop of the Himalayas.

Oct. 24 is six weeks before the crucial COP15 conference when world leaders meet in Copenhagen for a new climate treaty. If we make enough noise, our world leaders might go farther than mere politics and draw a road map that leads our planet back to safety.  

100 nations are taking part. But we need you- you, your friends, friends of friends, partying with 350 as if there were no tomorrow. Because really, you are changing tomorrow, more than if you just changed your light bulb or brought your own bag.

What is happening in the Philippines? Choose an event near you or create one.

Peacocks and a Peahen

Just the other day, I saw two men (literally) taking shots to woo a couple of ladies in a bar. Realizing it was futile, they decamped and moved to a bubbly group in the next table.  A few hours and a little hammered later, they made headway.  The hitch: Two men had ensnared only one girl. Now, this makes for some amusing entertainment. Two friends, pitted against each other, parading peacock feathers for a damsel who was obviously without distress.  I watched bemused. And fascinated. The peacock dance.  One displays his tail feathers and dark wings, and then the other flutters his rapidly. Side to side angles, backwards and forwards.     She was the consummate peahen.  Avoid one, and he unveils more tempting colors.  Walk away, but just to the Ladies Room.  Allow the cocks to figure out their predicament, or maybe ogle some more. She reappears, lovelier than ever. And then the dance starts again.  

I wonder, when does the dance end? When does one man captivate First Prize and leave his friend with pride and manhood defeated?  Do we take pleasure in playing the game or taking home the prize? And why I ask, when the peacock dance is over and the man takes home the prize, the lady suddenly feels defeated?

I took two shots and moved on to the next table.  Another peacock dance, and this one had just begun.

*“The peahen may mate with the peacock, or she may simply walk away or stand still, whereupon the male starts over, turning his back again and resuming the rapid fluttering of his wings. The peacock can hold his fan of display feathers up for a very long time…For reasons that are not well understood, peahens tend to mate with peacocks with the most eye-spots.”

Oh The Things I Would Do

Tomorrow and it’s another long weekend.  I have nothing planned except the customary lunch at the park, a drink with friends on Sunday, and some time with the kids. I just calculated how many Saturdays I would have till I breathe my last. 2,456 days (if I live to be 85).  And yet I always think it is unending.

How many more sunsets? (Brandon Lee once posed this question and he died at 33.) How many more times do I get to dip in the ocean and lick the salt off my lips?  How many more deep and wet kisses, the kind that seeps to my soul?  How many more songs to belt out with my girls, their high-pitched voices and jumbled words? How many more prancing ballerinas, clumsy pirouettes that I often fail to capture?  How many more days till I am no longer the queen and my every word magic? How many books, how much more wine, how much time to write another poem, and how many more times will I be in love?

I feel life slipping me by, as I sit here, staring at my screen, wondering what to do.   And as I write this, I remember how often I have aimed to seize moments, and how often I have let them pass me by. I don’t want to wish I could, have done this or that, stayed longer at the beach, burnt myself crisp, crooned and twirled, kissed you more than I should. But that’s that.  And now I have tomorrow, a Saturday and 2 more days of nothing to do after that.  Oh the things I ought to do. So, what about bracing the beach even if there might be a storm? Or what about being bold about love, abandon into its exquisite joy?  Because tomorrow my count goes down to 2,455, and that is, if I live till 85.

Snakes and Ladders

I do not know why I had to be good Samaritan today.  It was almost disastrous. I went to a COMELEC satellite office to register.  As I had registration forms filled-up (download here), I did not have to wait in the line that was now a zigzagging serpent devouring time and sanity. I marched up to the front, handed my form, and in a mere 15 minutes, I heard them holler “Aberasturi”.  Liberated from the hundreds waiting inside the dank room turned cell, I went inside the final frontier. Picture a makeshift office with a few tables, Step 3 wobbly hanging in carton and only five COMELEC officers multi-tasking a mountain of tasks: transferring details, taking photographs and scanning thumbprints.  Now, how are they going to register the hordes of citizens still queued up outside? But I was the Wise One and since my registration had been pre-filled and my name gloriously called, I finished my tasks.  Said: “Cheese!”, punched my index finger and thumb, right-left right-left, and sealed the digital deal! Thumbs up filled with ink, I was done.  Off to brag about COMELEC registration in one hour!  No snakes to devour me, no ladders to climb either.

Now, enter the good Samaritan. Aspiring to replicate my one-hour happy registration, I printed out COMELEC forms from the Internet, photocopied 50 sets, and returned to the satellite office.  I had a foolish notion of saving 50 citizens from the zigzagging serpent. It worked for me and saved me an entire day. I infiltrated the now dank and dreary room, asked who was first in line, then distributed my manna from heaven.  Or so I thought it was. COMELEC-appointed police officers with blaring voices (potbellies too) came. Scolded me for disturbing their peace.  Told me off. “Ginulo ang sistema!” (Oh, there was a system?) Close to crying or having a fit (I don’t know which one), I countered: “I was just trying to help. These people have been queuing since 7a.m. for the very same forms! They were here hours before I arrived and yet I have been registered, because I had these forms.”  Two continue to berate me and I waved my white flag. Told them to forget my act of supposed good.  Nothing was lost. Only time.  A lot of time. There is no use arguing over spilled milk, especially when the milk has been spoiled. I left the same way I came, but I heard the sound of clapping. I saw a few faces of gratitude, faces that understood why I did what I did, and faces did not want to dash the hopes of a girl who tried to help.  Went home, emotions jumbled, happy and sad. There were no snakes to devour me, only a ladder to climb.

P.S. Two more days to register. Three tips that did it for me: (1) Download, print and fill out the Registration Forms before you go to COMELEC; (2) Have a photocopy of your ID which has to indicate your home address.  If your ID does not have the address, bring a Proof of Billing; (3) Before you queue, go to the front, check what the queue is about and find out where to go if you have forms ready.

Irritated

I adjudge myself brat and irritated by the slightest inconvenience. Noise, smoke, perfume, waiting and people not paying attention, I am provoked. Shrill voices screeching on the radio, chatter, booming phone conversations, the same words repeatedly chanted on my ear. Pollution like poison slowly wafting into my lungs. And perfume, the smell of after-shave or shampoo, I cannot stand. Waiting, while salesgirls and managers bid their sweet time and waste away mine. And me, having to repeat what I say, two times, three, right after I have said it, and, again a week or month after. I feel my senses suddenly overwhelmed. Trounced on by a little more than what should be. I want to scamper away, pinch my nose, mask the scent with my own blend, shout and have a tantrum. I cannot simply have a dose of too much. What I should have is an excess of birdsong, or the hush of the sea, or too much lavender and orange, or even waste away time writing or reading poetry. And why can’t people hear me? I sense my voice lost to the mind’s bantering, mobile phones, twitters, and YouTube videos and ears forever plugged with earphones. We waste time, we waste time, we waste so much time on the screen. And we are filled to excess with all things that are not real. As though we want to escape our real life, our real world and the man or woman right next to us. Just today I walked in the park and had to keep my ears open to hear a bird chirping. I didn’t even hear one tweet. And yet there were hundreds of tweets waiting for me on my screen and I spent hours there instead. And, in this excess of stimulation, I grope, finding my voice, and yours too. I have been having bad allergies this past week with my hay fever back, as though I was 14 again, and everything outside is making me break out in hives.

Prey and Kill

I wonder how that feels? Killing. Having someone murdered. Butchered. Not someone you hate. But anyone in your way: people who have never laid a finger on you; blameless; but were just there, that diabolical moment when you decided you could play God and rid them of their lives. I just read it today. 50 people abducted, 46 found dead, a wife included and two pregnant siblings, today when all they did was file a husband’s and a brother’s certificate of candidacy. I cannot fathom, and I could go deep down into the abyss and still not fathom, how anyone could murder so many on a motive of what? Invoking fear? Loathing? Retribution? Hatred? Just knowing that you can do so? I always thought we had evolved enough as a race such that we no longer killed with impunity. But our very freedom has ironically turned us savage and less human. And less than animals, we are. Animals hunt, stalk, hound and strike on their prey and yet they never kill without reason other than survival. And they never kill to surplus, hound and mow down more than what they need to remain alive. With intelligence and cunning, we stake out, prey and kill heartlessly, for any reason except survival. Or, have we fallen so deep into the pit that we have equated survival with staying in power? Stake out humans, prey and kill heartlessly so one wields excessive power, be above the law, even the queen. And the recent massacre is but a blatant picture of the dark, deplorable, wretched state of our times. Acts are dictated like puppets on strings as the powerful puppeteers put on their shows, and truths are cloaked in wads of cash. And as we continue to gape at the sidelines, shudder, and then allow this diabolical act to be forgotten carried off by mists of gold, we are killing every semblance of humanity, and downgrade ourselves to being less than savage beasts.

Who’s Coming?

Advent begins today.  No one minds advent anymore. I don’t have a distinct memory of it except of lighting one purple candle and anticipating the joyful pink one, which meant gifts are just around the corner.  Still I didn’t really know what Advent was for except that it meant preparing.  Preparing for that eve when presents were opened, along with sweet jamon and castanas. I had to google Advent. Latin “adventus” or “coming.” But the days before Christmas have always been a blur.  Forget wreaths and purple candles.  There are just too many other things to do. I strive hard but there is the endless temptation to give in to Christmas trimmings. I don’t want to be hosting Christmas dinner and have guests over without my house transform to green, red and white.  I need that delightful checkered tablecloth that matches with my table napkins, the ones with the embroidered green trees.  Oh don’t forget my red towels, with trees stitched too.  And I want all my reds and greens living, so I want pine leaves and cypress, poinsettias, and that Douglas fir tree from Oregon.  Because truly, Christmas necessitates the scent of pine.  And then there’s the host of parties.  Once a year, we remember all those mates we once had, playmates, classmates, workmates and do not forget family unless you want Caribou wishing you prick your finger and die. And so here goes lunches and get-togethers, and there goes my money too.  Please, we talk about the same old, every year and it’s the ghost of Christmas past. And then, do I have to go to a bazaar?  I have been effective at dodging that somehow, now that I have vowed to make all my gifts handmade or grown. So my godchildren will have to contend with knits and no knacks. And my friends and family- the farm’s harvest. The coffee beans and bees have been good to us this year and so I have enough to perk up and sweeten my friends till next Christmas.   It is tough to consciously imbibe Christmas tidings of goodwill, grueling to even take on Advent . Waiting is not what I am good at.  I will try harder this year.  So tonight, hubby, 2 daughters and everyone in my household (did they have a choice), read a verse, lit a candle, and sang the Advent song. I hope that makes up for forgetfulness, and that I, hubby, 2 daughters and a household, lit a spark and remembered for a couple minutes, the joy the comes with anticipation.  Especially for something so bright. Without the fancy Christmas lights or rudolf.

*And oh, I can teach you how to make a wreath.  You should do it every year. Scents of pine waft in your nose while your hands are busy making a halo of flowers.  I use a circular floral foam (soaked in water), poke it with cypress leaves and then alternate that with pine, adding little leaves of eucalyptus and rosemary. I then add plain cones and teeny hypericum berries, and then top with pinches of purple limoniums. You can get all these flowers in the flower market.  The wreath will last you all four weeks.

Adventus begins today. The light of the world is coming to birth. And I don’t want to miss it this year.

Have a Break

My children snatched me and took me to the park today, to listen to the Madrigal Singers. Pure voices all in harmony, serenading us with Christmas carols under a tree of lights. Thank goodness for Children and their sixth sense. They knew I needed to return to innocence, when I can hearken to the voice of angels. Call me sentimental but sentiment was exactly what I needed. In the midst of our nation’s troubles, and even the world’s, I suddenly find myself a grumbler, unpleasant company, at times hateful. When did I become such a spiteful person, and judgmental too? I feel like the Queen of Hearts yelling: “off with their heads” as I give nasty pronouncements on right or wrong, right and left. It does not help at all when all I see are snippets about injustice, people with nothing to eat, homes still flooded with muck, and everything dark, dirty tricks and black propaganda included. But now I feel that as you belch out negativity, you suck in negativity as well. And one day, you find yourself losing all optimism and that little bounce in your step. And you forget how on Wednesdays, you can still find a nice a cappela concert, a block from where you live. And you forget that there are still people who sing like angels and that there are still songs about love. And you forget that your children still need to be carried to magical places where everything is good. I needed that dose of holiday cheer, that William Tell Overture I used to play on the piano, and oh, Jingle Bells. I forget it’s almost Christmas and I shouldn’t be such a grouch. I want to go back to belting out carols and family dinners reminiscing over jamon. My children need a memory of themselves singing Pasko na Naman. I haven’t swayed to a song in awhile, tapped my feet, clapped my hands (and mean it) and haven’t been truly there as my girls glanced up at me, in awe at the world. It’s tough to see merriment these days. But there are pure joys that should not be missed. And I, needed a little song.

Mummies and Sunshine

By some twisted fate, does mommy burnout come once a year?  I am truly being paid a visit by the Burnout MUMMY.  And I certainly want to swaddle myself in those bandages so no one would see the decaying body and ask her to please do this for her or him, right now.  Can someone please bundle me up, ship me in a box, and take me to Egypt?  Is the sun a brilliant white there?  Or release me down some beach where I can spend hours floating, drown out the noise underwater. I have been junking on Vitamin D, my substitute for sunshine.  My dose of sunshine. I need one whole day out in the sun.  Perhaps two. By my lonesome.  Yes, my lonesome. Without the kids and husband in tow.  So I no longer have to worry about things.  So I can forget schedules and milk and not give a damn. So I do not have to brood over what’s on the table or in their heads. I want to plop myself on the sand and grin silly.  Be away without a care in the world, but have the world caring for me.

I wish there was one day in the year when you could chose to un-mother or un-wife yourself.  An un-Mother-Wife’s Day.  I know I sound like a grump but really, who needs Mother’s Day or Valentines (well, our flower shop does.) I’m not desperate for chocolates or flowers, or dinner where everyone’s at their best to please the mommy-wife.  I vote for a day to be myself for 24 hours. I know.  Myself is a Mother and Wife.  But that’s exactly what I am hankering for.  One full day of me, without the honor of being mother and wife.

I realize as I am writing this just how terrible this Burnout Mummy has snared me.  But honestly, everyone has been visited by the Burnout Mommy.  I believe that there is no mother in the world that did not wish for the Sphinx or the Siren, (Stepford wives especially,) even if that wish has been buried in the pyramids or the sea, as a deep dark secret.  There is always that day, that hour, those few minutes, when, having just packed the bags for school, kissed the little ones goodbye, given that big smile, clucked like a Mother Hen and tidied up your hen house, that you dreamed, you were a swaddled up nice and cozy, inside the box, that casket that wishes to be shipped to Eqypt or dropped down the ocean floor.

Smug About Makati

I was savoring my walk to the shop today.  The sun was grinning and I thought: “I should do this regularly, stroll Makati, lap up on some sunshine.”  Puff! Blasting black smoke, appeared out of the already thinning air, and I lost my sunshine.  The jeepney greeted me with fumes for a smile, trailing clouds of smog in its wake.  “Goodbye” he said. “I cannot see you now.” And my sanity vanished in the blanket of black. Can’t anyone walk in Makati anymore? Silly how we panic when someone coughs in the elevator, fearing that the virus would get transmitted and claw its way into our throats.  But that smoke-belcher we see (or not see) everyday?  They cough up clouds of smog into the air we breathe. And we ingest it.  And it’s worst than any virus. It would be like being stuck in an elevator everyday whilst a man coughs up carbon monoxide (among others) that surely claws its way into our throats.  I’d rather have a virus visit and leave me than have smog kill me softly, and silently too. So I read up on smoke pollution in Makati.  The air over Makati, exceeds the acceptable level of 230/TSP/microgram.  The Total Suspended Particulates (TSP) is 270 over Makati.  That means that while writing this piece in Makati, I take in 40 more of the shadow killer. Now, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), the levels of lead in Manila are more than three times the established safety limit. Three times against what is safe?  That means we’re breathing in air that is not only hazardous, it’s THREE TIMES hazardous.  Now who in his right mind would keep doing that?  The WHO report grants Metro Manila as the fourth most polluted worldwide.  Isn’t that grand?  Our country counts the fourth highest for something, and it is air pollution. And while we’re taking 4th highest honor in and out our lungs everyday, our government enacted the Clean Air Act in 1999.  I didn’t know we had an action plan for clean air because obviously, it is being ignored.  The regulatory agencies do not strictly implement its provisions. For what excuse I am baffled, as surely they would not trade health for wealth. Right? Not. Still, all you have to do is look out your window and step outside- puff there goes a jeep and puff the law ignored.  And the fines?  A hundred pesos by the LTO. Not even enough for one mask.  Two thousand Pesos for the first offense and P6,000 for the third.  Too low for my lung’s worth.  So what am I to do?  Live elsewhere.  Stay inside.  Wear a gas mask. Lose any semblance of life. But then again, life’s being puffed away by the shadow killer regardless.

I’m going to step outside again.  Time for lunch and time to drink in some more carbon monoxide.  What a depressing trade-off for sun and a stroll in Makati.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. – William Shakespeare

Heat Wave

It’s tough to write when it’s hot. I fidget and stare, glancing at my book, my hand itching to write, my mind reasoning that I read instead.   It’s May (the lusty month of May) and yet I found myself still scouring the shops for stringy clothes that will take the sweat off my back.  Sandals too. What is there to write about in the summer?

Childhood. Unfortunate how my kids can only imagine about other kids climbing trees and rooftops these days. Because in the summer of my childhood, that’s all we did. We had four rooftops to climb and an abundance of fruit trees to pick. I vividly remember scrambling up the 2nd floor, taking a courageous jump from the floor onto the roof, and having an entire afternoon to just sit.  In the heat. Scorched. Sweating. Lapping up on those pink and red cherries that would leave gooey stuff on your palm. I wonder why the elders let us be. Would I even let my kids climb trees and rooftops? Where will I find trees and rooftops to climb in Makati? I wonder why I never felt the heat, the sweltering heat. I wonder why I lathered up on the sweat, lapped on the cherries, and not mind the gunk on my hands. I wonder at the wonder of childhood summers- danger, heat, sweat and sweet sticky stuff. Easy too. Now you don’t get danger, heat, sweat and sweet sticky stuff so easily. And it isn’t always wonderful.

Rum Cokes. April, we were at a beach, 45 minutes off Cagayan de Oro (some have it easy) and they ran out of Rum Cokes. No Rum Cokes on the beach! But then there’s the splendid thing about being a Filipino in the province. You can simply ask the waiter to run to the nearest sari-sari store and buy you a lapad and a Litro. Our waiter did our very bidding. Even made it special by adding “crushed” ice (frozen off some water you shouldn’t even ask about lest you ruin the experience). And so we sipped Rum cokes and I dropped my guard that day. Forgot that beside the picturesque white sand and turquoise blue, there was snow white and the seven dwarfs in their version of a garden. Forgot to panic about the unfiltered water that was now my crushed ice. And forgot to brood because my drink came in a water goblet. Nothing beats a Lapad and litro by the beach. In the province. Not even fancy drinks served by men in flamboyant tuxedos and adorned with umbrellas.

Beach. Isn’t that truly the only thing about summer? I figure I haven’t been to the beach enough to last me a whole lifetime. I can’t get enough of the sea, sun and salt air.  I still lap up on salt water every chance I get. Well, now I have to pretend it casually found it’s way into my lips. Because who in her adult mind would still drink briny water right? There’s always a need to get sloshed on the sea. Sink myself in it, or drift, be shipwrecked, and then wander about an island. I will always look back on that day of perfect freedom, when I cast myself away from our dive boat, in the middle of Palawan and Mindoro and rowed myself into a small patch of sand. That atoll had a reef enough for a shade and I have never felt as much delight as being beached there, solitary, marooned with only quiet for company. (Meanwhile, hubby and the rest of the dive group were tense fishing for the girl who thought she had sea legs.)

With three more days of summer, I panic. Remind me please, why did waste my weekends in the city? Why am I able to count the number of Rum cokes I’ve had and still have an unopened bottle of Jamaican Rum sitting at home? And why oh why have my kids been stuck playing inside, or worse, outside with insect repellant and yaya in tow? Why did I keep whining about the heat when I had a perfect excuse to dunk myself in the sea? And what’s the use of summer clothes when I had nothing much to do about summer?

Three days to go. Three days too short. The weather bureau just announced that summer might linger a bit longer this year. She gives me another month for frenzy in this heat. It is still summer. It is still tough to write because it’s hot. Precisely. Because I should be elsewhere, doing something else, like drift in the sea.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.

E.E. Cummings

The Goldfish, The Poet

June already. How did that happen? I woke up on Labor Day, browsed the Internet, screen-sucked, and maybe tweets rather than chirps got me through days. Today I woke up and I feel like I am 30 days older with nothing to show for. What did I do the last 30 days? Let me look over my Facebook status and my tweets too. Because honestly, most of my fleeting time was squandered on the screen. Did I even finish reading all the books I bought? Two maybe. And yet I had bought three more, which I neatly labeled, leafed through and put aside for dusting in my bookshelf. And just today, I got worked up and bought two more- sonnets this time. Perhaps if I can’t get through one whole book without straying somewhere between a page and the update on my screen, I could at least finish a poem. That will make me feel better. Who won’t with: “Book, when I close you, I open life.”- Pablo Neruda. Actually. Not. When I close the book, I stare at my screen and suck. I am a goldfish with an attention span of nine seconds. (According to a BBC article, that’s what we have become. No wonder Twitter lords it over everyone else.) I can no longer concentrate enough to win a human-goldfish marathon.  My eyes swim, from one thing to another, doing a myriad of things inside my tiny bowl. And as I swim through emails, blogs, videos, status updates and content, I grasp only snippets. Did I even bother reading emails to the end? Get the drift of what was said? Does anyone swim to the finish, the whole gunk? It’s maddening- the desire to rush to the next tab and drink more content to my brain. Too little time, too much to see. And probably the worst symptom of cyber-wasting is the inability to stop. You shut down and then your eyes have nothing to feast on, you are anxious, your fingers itch, and your very bored self pleads with you to “Please, just one hit, check for messages?” Is there a Screen-Sucking-Anonymous somewhere?  I’m torn, constantly having to choose between quiet, slow time with books as you lounge on a couch versus the fast-paced, accelerated bytes of information you get to sup up from the web. I adore browsing at the bookshop. Perhaps half the joy of reading is searching for the perfect book and finding it tucked there in that corner, exactly where you (only you) can see it. But then the search tab lures me: “Type any word,” he says, “I have millions of answers, all for your taking.” And then the email icon winks, attracting attention and it’s too damn seductive to refuse. So the maddening cycle starts and I’m once again hooked- a pushover, bait swimming around in an unending sea of information. Unable to stay long enough to catch what I should. I’m keeping this article short. There’s no use trying to trap goldfish. My 9 seconds are up. There was May. Here is June. I’m going to try catch what I still can. And so let me start (and end) with Sonnet 22.

We drive and are driven

But time’s stride—

think of it lost

in the ever-remaining.

All that’s hurrying

will quickly be past;

only what lingers

grants as credence.

Boys,  don’t fling your courage

into the thrill of speed

or attempts at flight.

All that is is at rest—

darkness and morning light,

flower and book.

Sonnet 22, Rainer Maria Rilke

Red Line Blue Circle

I watched an overworked friend keep still for an hour and with great heed, draw a blue circle on paper. She looked completely serene, as if rendering the perpetual loop meant she never had to eat a sandwich on her office table for lunch again.  We were at Michelle’s farm for the long weekend.  Tita Merle, full of wisdom, remembered to leave a blank canvass beside the window, there to capture anyone’s creative genius. I wonder how many people have marched on, ignoring the very bare and needy canvass, the drying paints and brushes, even the outdoor landscape that was just screaming to be made immortal on paper. Children couldn’t resist immaculate white paper with such assortment of paints and pastels. Their greedy hands would be itching to create.  And you have, in barely seconds, enough art to carpet an entire floor. But adults, we barely notice it. And when we do, we say our ohs and ahs, “our “oh how lovely but I can’t draw.” We get retreat back to whatever adult thing we were doing, that thing we were masters at. I do not know what it was about that place. Maybe it was a drab canvass leaning against a backdrop of Picasso sky. Or maybe it were the children, spearheading the task with gusto, edging on the adults. Maybe it was the chat we just had, about losing winks and lunch hours for a white Mercedes and fortress we do not have time to enjoy. She had just reminisced about fifteen years ago, when she could still write poetry and prose, when she lazed away time imagining the next gift to wrap, the next basket to fill, the design of her stationery. And her nostalgic self edged her on. She lay hold of the canvass, and decided to take on the epic task of painting again after fifteen years. I left to chat with the gang and my overworked-now-artist friend was completely immersed in her colors and lines. We saw her an hour later, as she sashayed to our circle, to draw her perpetual blue.  Did I mention the last time she held a paintbrush was 15 years ago? Yet today as I watched her take her place among my children, she was a child again, fascinated of colors, respecting the cobalt blue and the carmine red, seeing the forest and the trees. Out of her mind were lunches spent munching sandwiches while she typed and work that followed her home, watched her while she slept. I realized then that we should always have some art in our lives: have the courage to always stop and paint some color into our drab canvasses; have the spunk to dive into painting (poetry, dance or song.)

It took an hour for their work of art. My children had run off, leaving me with their art of lines and hearts. The lines and hearts were everywhere, and they now wanted to swim in them. My artist friend went home with her carmine red lines and a cobalt blue loop. She knew that next week, even while having lunch at her office table, she could escape the drab with a memory of getting drunk on colors and diving into an infinite blue.

Always be intoxicated! To escape being the martyred slaves of time, be ceaselessly drunk. On wine, on poetry, on virtue, as you wish. But always be intoxicated.” Charles Baudelaire

Take a Break

My children snatched me and took me to the park today, to listen to the Madrigal Singers. Pure voices all in harmony, serenading us with Christmas carols under a tree of lights. Thank goodness for children and their sixth sense. They knew I needed to return to innocence, when I can hearken to the voice of angels. Call me sentimental but sentiment was exactly what I needed. In the midst of our nation’s troubles, and even the world’s, I suddenly find myself a grumbler, unpleasant company, and at times hateful. When did I become such a spiteful person, and judgmental too? I feel like the Queen of Hearts yelling: “off with their heads” as I give nasty pronouncements on right or wrong, right and left. It does not help at all when all I see are snippets about injustice, people with nothing to eat, homes still flooded with muck, and everything dark, dirty tricks and black propaganda included. But now I feel that as you belch out negativity, you suck in negativity as well. And one day, you find yourself losing all optimism and that little bounce in your step. And you forget how on Wednesdays, you can still find a nice a cappela concert, a block from where you live. And you forget that there are still people who sing like angels and that there are still songs about love. And you forget that your children still need to be carried to magical places where everything is good. I needed that dose of holiday cheer, that William Tell Overture I used to play on the piano, and oh, Jingle Bells. I forget it’s almost Christmas and I shouldn’t be such a grouch. I want to go back to belting out carols and having family dinners reminiscing over jamon. My children need a memory of themselves singing Pasko na Naman. I haven’t swayed to a song in awhile, tapped my feet, clapped my hands (and mean it) and haven’t been truly there as my girls glanced up at me, in awe at the world. It’s tough to see merriment these days. But there are pure joys that should not be missed. And I, needed a little song.

Pinoy Organic: When to Scrimp, when to Splurge

I have been hankering for a Philippine Dirty Dozen and Clean 15. There are vegetables and fruits that have made it to the American Clean 15 list, but shouldn’t be in ours. Their fruits and vegetables grow in a temperate climate with four distinct seasons. Our fruits and vegetables are not too lucky. We have no distinct wet and dry, and have the rains and humidity to contend with. There are just certain temperate fruits and vegetables that do not grow in this climate. And these fruits and vegetables are able to thrive, only when doused with pesticides and fungicides. Among these are cabbages and asparagus.

Here’s the gist of it:

1.     Fruits or vegetables that are temperate can only be grown in high elevations in the Philippines.  These elevations have more rain, and thus require more fungicides to thrive.

2.     You are better off, as always, eating what is endemic or indigenous to the Philippines, and in season.

3.     Also, determine whether your fruits or vegetables are grown in the ground. Those grown in the ground would have the most pesticides.  Those that grow in trees would have lower levels.

4.     Fruits or vegetables with thick outer layers can be washed and/or peeled, and prepared properly to lessen the pesticide levels.

Below is a list I came up with (with a little help from our farmers). I took into account the fruits and vegetables that make it into the Filipino cuisine.

DIRTY DOZEN Splurge on Organic

1.     Celery- Pesticides in the bottom of the stalk

2.     Pears- thin skin

3.     Strawberries- grown low in ground, not endemic to Philippines

4.     Apples- packs the highest level of pesticides

5.     Grapes- some imported grapes have high pesticide levels

6.     Bell Pepper- highest pesticide load for vegetables

7.     Spinach- You’re better off eating Gabby Leaves or Malunggay (plants endemic to the Philippines.)  Spinach is a ground-hugger like lettuce and drinks in pesticides through its stalks.

8.     Potatoes- Again, they just grow above the ground so farmers use chemicals to make sure they can harvest potatoes.  Pesticides are also ingested through the potato’s thin skin.

9.     Broccoli/Cauliflower- If you live in temperate zones, these would have low pesticide levels.  However, these vegetables only grow in cold weather, and if grown elsewhere (i.e. tropics), would need fungicides to thrive during the rainy months.  Higher elevations would have more rainfall.  Most of the broccoli we get here are grown at higher than 700 meters and these entail over a 100 inches of rain a year.

10.  Tomatoes- Prone to bacterial wilt and pesticides, which in temperate climate, eases during the winter. In tropical zones, has to be sprayed to thrive.

11.  Lettuce- Ease up on your salads or go organic.   Lettuce stay in the ground and bulk up on pesticide laden water.  They have a high pesticide load.  If you can’t spend extra, reduce your exposure by removing the outer layers.

12.  Cabbage- In temperate zones, these would have low pesticide levels. In our climate, cabbages suffer from diamond black moth infestations and are sprayed with pesticides.

CLEAN 15 When it’s ok to scrimp.

1.     Onions-grown underground, can always remove outer skins

2.     Avocado- tough skins

3.     Sweet Corn (make sure these are not GMO)

4.     Pineapple- touch skins, tropical

5.     Mangoes- tough skin & grows high. BUT be sure though that these are in season when you buy them.  Otherwise, the mangoes have been grown using flowering enhancers.

6.     Watermelon/Melon- tough skin

7.     Sweet Potato- grown underground, tough skin

8.     Malunggay- endemic

9.     Kangkong- endemic

10.  Okra- endemic

11.  Bananas- Tough skin, grows high

12.  Alugbati- endemic

13.  Camote Tops- endemic

14.  Squash- tough skin

15.  Carrots- grown underground, tough skin

GRAY Your call. These could have some fungicide/pesticides but negligible

1.     Asparagus- with our rains, may get some fungus so some spray fungicide

2.     Pechay- prone to worms, may be sprayed with pesticide

Taken in part: Environmental Working Group; Chensheng Lu, Emory University’s School of Public Health; United Fresh Produce Association and The Environmental Working Group’s Shopper’s Guide to Pesticides.

 

Harmony of the Spheres

I was stopped on my tracks by a symphony the other day. It was late afternoon and I thought I could sit and have coffee just across the street where I live. But on the way there, I passed an orchestra, rehearsing on a makeshift stage. “What grace!” I thought. I only wanted solitude and coffee and yet here I was, being regaled with a serenade and an entire ensemble. It was, music to my ears. And so I stopped and sat back, one of a handful of people who felt amazed by an endowment of art from the Muses.

I listened, enthralled by the wonder of a symphony orchestra. How can strings, woodwinds, brass and percussion beat so differently and yet create harmony befitting the gods? Each instrument was different from the other, owning a different pitch, a tone or texture. The strings strummed melodic tunes, the woodwinds piped in the highs, the brass tooted majestic sounds, and the percussion thumped rhythmic beats. And yet, as diverse as they were, they each had an equally grand offering to give. They each had an equally monumental part to perform. And as distinct as their gifts and roles were, they each played in harmony to create one symphonic masterpiece. Every player was attuned to the Maestro’s beat. Not one instrument overpowered nor imposed its tune on another. No instrument drowned another’s sound. They neither clashed nor were dissonant. Instead they strummed, tooted, or plunked only when the melody called for them, awaiting tempo, their own perfect time, and especially granting others the space to play the fullest, perfect rendition of themselves.

And I suddenly had an intimation of the highest possibilities of humanity. Maybe we ought to create beautiful music together, create harmony befitting the gods. What if we played in unity like the strings, brass, drums and woodwinds of a symphony? If enlightened flutes and clarinets soared high and yet chimed in to the pulse of the oboe? If powerful trumpets and tubas gave strength in needed places but stayed still at other times? If violins, cellos, and guitars celebrated each other’s divergent characteristics, and did so without envy? If drums and cymbals didn’t clash and bang but held all others in steady beats, giving rhythm. And what if we all played out our distinct gifts and role in the ensemble, attuned to the same symphonic masterpiece? Without anyone drowning out another; without clashes; each one in rhythm; and each one allowing the others to perform their rendition to the music? Maybe then, all this wailing, this clamor, this discord, the din and the disquiet will stop. And maybe we can finally be regaled with a serenade by the stars. And maybe music can finally be heard. And I thought: “What grace!”

Music takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startle our wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto. Ralph Waldo Emerson

My sky

Sometimes I wish I could paint so I could show you my sky at dusk. But I can’t. So I’d have to contend with telling you instead.

Gray hovering over the city lights

Periwinkle blue splashed here and there

Wisps of violet and cobalt

Threads of silky white

A bright blue backdrop

Peach and pale pink highlights.

And as I keep glancing to write this, the sky darkens. Now indigo, then blue, almost black. And I wish I could have captured the colors as they were. Plastered it on my canvas. But I couldn’t. So I’d have to contend with reading what I wrote instead.

March 23, 2011 6:26 PM

Upside Down

I woke up today with an upturned sky. The sky and sea merged and what I saw was an expanse of water, or maybe an expanse of sky. There was no horizon to divide earth and the heavens, infinite silver blue. And there I was, filled with so much promise for the new day. An entire day to create I said. A chance to fix what I failed to do yesterday.  Today I will be quiet when I should, and let others be, without judgment or envy.  There was no need to prove myself I thought. No showing off. No need to take center stage. No need to bask in the light. And especially, no need to sulk when others took the light. And just right before I stepped out, I thought, no insignificant acts.

But an upturned sky made an unturned day.  And all my good intentions were whisked away by all the bad temptations. I couldn’t stay where I sat. That or I would once again sulk in my misery. I could not listen. That or I would turn to judgment in my thoughts.  And I kept feeling the need to show off. And so I escaped. And kept seeking places of solitude. Breathed in the salt air. Kept going back to that place inside my heart where I should find a higher me. Asked the waters to cleanse away my deep pain, and even deeper longing for some peace within. The sky was stroked with angel wings and I kept looking up, asking for some help from heaven.  And I feel wretched. As though I failed my big test today.

It’s 2PM and I have another half day for redemption. Here’s another half chance to save the day.  The sky’s separated from my sea. And I see a clear distinct horizon. Maybe a normal sky will make a normal day.

Lucky Strike

Just got back from a night out with friends and I am not at all sleepy. My eyes are tired and would rather get forty winks but my mind’s awake. And so I thought I could do a treatise.

 

There was a drunken man in the bar. He had 40,000 cash. He wanted a cute guy he had just spent 17,000 of Patron XO on. But he the money he burned had gone to waste. And he left dejected, lamenting the fate of gay men. And he left me saying. You are beautiful. Cherish being straight.

 

2:27 AM November 17, 2010

Pretty Smart

It’s hard to shake off the feeling of being 16 again, especially when you see the high school caboodle after 19 years of pretending to have grown up. You ogle perplexed at how 19 years is a long time and yet there you all are, still competing over the same title of Queen. Then there’s a tussle between the 16-year old who has to look pretty and talk smart, and the 35-year old who’s presumed to know that charm and wit will get you places, but will only leave you there. The fearful, unsteady, insecure 16-year old won out last night. It didn’t help that I was encircled by the same people of my past albeit set in a 2011 restaurant. We’re much more worldly, having just had ordered exquisite Tom Yam soup paired with a Catfish salad. And yet, there’s no insecurity like having to validate you deserved the title of Queen in high school: or that, the Queen hasn’t been downgraded to pauper or fool.

So I’m shrinking from myself the morning after. I should have been less judgmental, praised instead of criticized. I shouldn’t have bothered I’d be upstaged, allowed others the limelight instead of sucking the light. I should have paid heed to every conversation, heard their voices instead of drowning them in mine. Because just as I tried to out-pretty and out-smart, I lost out. There’s nothing pretty about a girl with a loud condescending mouth that snickers at everyone’s grand ideas. And you lose smart when you stop listening.  I left not knowing the richness of their lives, what they have amassed years from when I last saw them.  I didn’t even know their new names. And all I left them with was an unchanging image of me. “You’re still the same.” I am 35 but no matter how far you think you’ve gone, shedding off past layers, you just so easily bear it again when fenced in by symbols of the past. I am 35 but no matter how far you think you’ve gone, shedding off past layers, you just so easily bear it again when fenced in by symbols of the past. And I can’t shake off the feeling of being 16 again. At 16, it was pretty smart to bully others with your insecurities. But it’s 19 years hence, and it ain’t no longer a bright or beautiful picture.

 

 

Finger Puppets

There wasn’t really any Father’s Day to celebrate. I don’t have a notion of father. You see, after years of trying to fly high on gin, my Poppy finally grew wings when I was 5 and never came back. Even then, I could not remember what it was to have one. All I have of him are dreamy, dim bits: him going down the staircase in his checkered blue shirt and maybe one solitary father-daughter moment.  In my grandfather’s room, on the high bed, the curtains dimming the bright sun from outside, my Poppy had drawn little dots and lines on his fingers and made finger puppets.  All then all I have are three dark and deathly scenes: they had poured whisky on the casket; I had to be carried to lean over and kiss the glass; and I had wondered in horror whether the dead man inside the box had to be let out and buried standing up. The colors were gray and copper, the church was old and grotesque, and the air was flat. I watched scared out of my wits, in absolute befuddlement: Why did I have to kiss glass so close to a dead father? Were they going to let him out, prop him up, so he could be buried with his feet on the ground?  I trembled and sobbed. They thought, “poor daughter, to have lost her father, so sad too.” But I felt no sorrow but dread. Not grief but fright. Fear of death. Fear of the dead. And every night thereafter I would get up and point in the shadows. “He’s there.” I would say. In the hour of darkness, I saw Poppy every night. Then one day, he was gone. And I could no longer sleep alone at night. Someone had to hold me, be on my backside and hold me, up until high school. Someone had to be there when I slept. I was afraid to wake up in the middle of the night and see the ghost of my past.

 

Yesterday was Father’s Day. I considered whom among my fathers I had to greet. I sent it out to two. They were the closest to having fathers I ever had. I was meant to love them, find myself finally as someone’s daughter, see them as my own. But I never really felt myself a daughter. They were my mother’s husbands, my brothers’ dad, my siblings’ papa. And I was always someone else’s daughter. They did try. They would grant me the same privileges, shower the same gifts, sometimes more, compensating for the lack of “father-ness” they themselves felt. I was even to call him “Daddy.” It should have been easy, being only 5. I had a whole lifetime to practice and make perfect the joys of being a daughter. But you see, you could never really teach a child to alter her truth. Child’s play did not include imagining fathers. I knew they were not mine. Much as I had dreamed and wished it to be. I had even written my 2nd dad’s family name right next to mine, hoping that maybe that would do the trick. But it still wasn’t real. And I always felt myself a stranger, set apart, a member never really belonging. In a portrait of family, they were inside the picture, I was halfway in, halfway out.  I was the baggage they had to carry with them, so they get the girl. And wherever my mom went, I had to be lugged alongside her. Try as I might, I could never dig deep enough to reshape my heart’s lack of real fondness for fathers. I did strive. Went along with them, beamed my half-smiles, hugged them sometimes, gave them kisses in church and on their birthdays. I even cried alongside them when my mother left them. And still I know I do not have enough to make it for a Father’s Day. I still envy my children. They have so much love for their father. And him for them. They have wet kisses, Tickle Monsters, Pedro stories, piggy-back rides, belly laughs and photographs. I never had those. All I have are memories of one lone afternoon of finger puppets and a lifelong desire to feel love for fathers who were there, but were never really mine.

 

Rain Check

The days have been hushed, more subdued, unhurried, and I find myself wanting to write more. Rains get me all squishy inside. I remember forgotten books in the closet, cotton blankets, and staying in bed a little longer. (I wonder how many children would be born 9 months hence?)

Coffee doesn’t do rain justice and so I sip hot chocolate instead. Which gets me wishing for a country house with a porch. These days though, I am content with an oversized window of trickling raindrops. The world seems awash in misty rain.  The buildings from my window are mantled in gray that any tinge of color stands out. Now I suddenly notice the yellow building and begin longing for shiny umbrellas or children in flashing raincoats and boots.

I fancy the smell of rain. I used to imagine it as the earth breathing out, the damp ground sighing. Even the sound of the rain tugs at me: a subtle shh.  I sense everyone quiet, easing off, going by the day slowly, remembering to sit by porches and sip their cups of steaming chocolate. Taking rain checks. Reading a book.  Walking with deliberate slowness. Sighing, melancholic, misty, pining for the promise of romance. Imagining chance meetings of bumping into a beautiful stranger under the rain.  Or kissing under a red umbrella.

I sense time. It moves leisurely. The rains remind me of a small pocket of bushes in our backyard. There was a dent in the ground and the waters collected into little pools over shiny pebbles. I used to pick pink and red hibiscus flowers, squish them under the rain, and make the oil I needed for playing house. Somehow one never forgets how muddy wet feels like. I used to tap-dance in the rain, sloshing around barefoot in gray puddles. Or stay under rain gutters, waiting for a waterfall. I still walk under a drizzle sometimes. There’s something delightful about looking up and getting a rain shower or feeling naughty about a wet t-shirt. I am also fond of those moments right after a rain, when the world is bit hushed, the colors are muted, and everything seems bathed in newness.

Perhaps we need a little rain sometimes, the soft kind that collects into little pools.  It makes for slow time and moments of deliberate intention (or you get your feet wet). A time for noticing trickling raindrops and yellow buildings.  When you hear the earth shh-ing you to stillness. When you can squeeze oil out of a flower or tap-dance in a puddle. A day for getting all squishy inside so one remembers wet accidental meetings, or even writing again.  

August 1, 2011

The Case of Uga (Tuyo or Stinky Dried Fish)

There’s all this talk about food the past few days.  Not just any food.  It’s the kind that you seek out, return to, and always, always crave.  Twenty years later and a whole new life and still when someone writes: “uga, calo2 and scrambled eggs for breakfast,” you panic, and all sorts of tastes hound you or your palette.  And then a slew of other menu suggestions ranging from specific Tita chorizo to San Andres tapa and you’re a goner, off to satisfy that bratty appetite that would have to eat just that.  So much has been written about food but I felt that this one needed the honor. There’s something peculiar about food that you grow up with.  It just doesn’t leave you.  You’ve met all sorts of haute cuisine and gourmet. In fact you’ve had the nasty duck liver and icky snails that people laud about, you have feasted and made merry in the world’s grand kitchens, and still, it’s “uga” you always, always crave. It’s as unrefined as one can get and yet the foul smell can make my mouth water.  Worse, there’s a need to eat it with the hands.  Once, we were two weeks in Europe with a last stop in Norway. We were almost heading home and yet I couldn’t eat another morsel of decent European dishes I couldn’t even pronounce. And so I found myself in the kitchen, eating dried herring with steaming white rice, my sorry substitute for uga.

Curiously, what is it that makes one fanatical for food that would never make it to the World’s Best? And don’t forget the grease. You pass yourself off as a health nut and yet, when the going gets tough, you sneak out to snack on Chippy or worse, have midday chorizo, grease over rice.  Fight and the flight is straight towards comfort food. Why? They say we’re hard-wired to eat high-energy food to counter high levels of the stress hormone. Maybe that.  But I daresay it’s because comfort food is the antidote. It is the kind of food that takes you places, relives a moment of bonding, and blurs time and space. It transports you to that time when everything was easy and all you had to worry about was what toy to play with or what to wear to the next party. That food you hunger for is a trip down memory lane, with exactly those people you pigged out with. Somehow, the food blends with the feeling, and it’s the closest thing you get to a feasting with family, friends and a memory again.

Uga remains in my inner circle of comfort food, along with (not in any order):

1. My Lolo’s Kadios (quintessential Ilonggo dish)
   

   Kadios (picture from Market Manila)

2. My Yaya’s birthday Spaghetti
3. Wimpy’s burger from that ice cream parlor in front of Hua Ming
   

   Wimpy's Burger: It's almost all gravy and cheese!

4. The Buco Meringue Pie from Veron’s house
5. JacknJill Barbeque Curls. Well Chippy, He-Man (the kind with the yellow goo that sticks to your fingers) and Tortilla Chips occupy this spot too.
6. Bob’s Pancit Molo
7. Corned Beef with Mayonnaise (seriously, ask my brothers)
8. Milo with condensed milk
9. Ilonggo Chorizo, calo2 and scrambled eggs
10. Chocolate (No particular brand. Well, maybe Haagen Daz Belgian Chocolate)

Now I stop writing to satisfy my heart pangs.

Indoor Plants as Natural Air Filters

I grew up surrounded with green. My mom had the Green Thumb, which unfortunately has not been passed on.  She had a beautiful garden and although we kept switching homes, the plants were a staple.  Which is why I can still cringe when I see plastic ornamentals inside a home. I just still think that nothing could pass off for the real thing. It doesn’t help that I married a walking (and talking!) plant encyclopedia.  My husband can tell you the name, genus and species of every plant and tree you see and can go on for hours.  Ask any friend who’s had the privilege or bad luck of getting stuck with him in a road trip for 16 hours.

Now I’m stuck in a building and most people wonder how in nature’s name I could keep plants thriving inside without a balcony and the sun. But if I had my way I’d transform my home into a tropical forest. There’s something delightful about going inside a home filled with plants. The air’s a little bouncier, and you can actually breathe easy. And since you spend most of your time indoors, it helps to have a breath of fresh air especially when you live right smack in the middle of smoke city. In fact, indoor plants not only produce oxygen, they also absorb benzene, formaldehyde,  xylene, toluene and trichlor.

NASA made a study on the best indoor plant filters. I have come up with my own list, adapting it to the availability of plants here and our tropical climate.  These are VERY easy to have.  Indoor plants originate from dense shades in tropical forests. The reason why they make good air filters is that they have a very high rate of photosynthesis (that’s why they don’t need as much sun.)

Plant	Benefits (according to NASAand Wolverton)			My comments
	Benzene	Formaldehyde	Tricho
Peace Lily	X	X	X	These are the easiest to take care of. They don’t need much sun and in fact thrive beautifully indoors.  You also get a pretty white flower thatreminds you to om your way to peace.
Chinese Evergreens	X	X		These plants you can actually see everywhere as they are the office and mall favorite.  They are sturdy and also do well indoors. I am not too fond of the plant though. They don’t look pretty J but you can buy small ones to keep on a desk.
Bamboo Palm			X	This ornamental I really love. They have nice pretty stalks that look like red bamboo and you can keep them for months. They also grow tall. I have had Bamboo palms inside my house growing for more than a year.
Mother in Law’s Tongue		X		For wives who would like their mother in law always in the house, this is the plant for you. Kidding.  The name says it all, this plant just won’t wilt! It could go on forever. Though I have relegated these plants to the bathrooms (no meaningful reason, really) as they don’t need so much sun and could stay up and erect for months even if you forget to water them. (This plant is also known as Espada in the vernacular.)
Draceana (Fortune Plant)	X	X		Some people love this because it supposedly brings good fortune.  I tried my luck and have these plants at our shop all the time.We bring this plant outdoors once a week. I try to water it twice a week.  But I’ve seen this plant thrive so long without sun exposure.
Ficus		X		Quite elegant and can grow quite tall. I haven’t been very successful at keeping it for so long. I think it needs some sun. It is also sensitive to drafts. After a few months the top branches wilt.  The little leaves always fall off too so you need to always sweep.
Rubber Plant		X		A strong indoor plant that tolerates drought. The leaves look shiny and sturdy almost like plastic.
Fern		X		I like how this plant looks but it is not as strong as the other plants. I think it’s because this plant likes humidity and you should be misting it when it gets too dry or hot. Could last a few months without a lot of sun.
Areca Palm				No one pays much attention to this palm as it is quite very common. But I love this plant and have had the palm for more than a year.  It looks pretty indoors as they grow to a good size. I usually buy 2 or 3 (P100 each) and have them put in one big pot.
Spider Plant   Rhapis (also known as Five Fingers or Lady Palm)				This is the easiest to keep. You can neglect it and still it will thrive.  These are those common plants you see with the long thin leaves that have a white stripe in the middle.   This one is very easy to keep.  I have had Rhapis stay indoors for months without much problem.  They call it Rapis in the vernacular.  The leaves of these look like a fan or an opened palm.

You supposedly need 1 plant for every 1 square meter of floor space.

Spider Plant

MIL Tongue

Fortune Plant

You need not keep these plants near the window all the time nor do they need direct sun.  Bi-weekly by the window with some filtered sun does the trick.  I also water only once or twice a week.

Peace Lily

I buy my plants from the Bulacan Gardens, Guiguinto, Bulacan.  It’s quite easy to find. Just take the exit that says Guiguinto and you’re apt to see gardens on one side of the road. It takes me about 1 hour 1/2 (from Makati) but it’s definitely worth the time and the gas.   The prices are 1/3 what you would pay for them in other markets/gardens. You can get small plants for about P50-75 a piece and tall palms at P100.  The more special ones (like an enormous Peace Lily or a Bamboo Palm) could go only as high as P250-500. Go with P2000 and you’ll have enough plants to fill an apartment or small home.  Note that they won’t have a clue if you just tell them names.  You need to research before you go there so you know how the plants should look like. They make up names for their plants too. Another garden market is the Manila Seedling Bank but there’s not much variety for ornamental houseplants and the prices are not as low.

There’s also a wonderful book How to Grow Fresh Air: 50 House Plants that Purify Your Home or Office.  The book tells you about contaminants and toxins in your indoor environment and how plants remove these from the air.  It also tells you what plants to buy and how to take care of them.

Eat what you Sow

So I guess farming is now in vogue. Growing up I was embarrassed when I had to write “Farmer” under Father’s Occupation.  I wished then I could write something more lucrative, like lawyer or doctor, businessman or banker. I guess that’s why I became a lawyer and then married a farmer.

After I had my children, wholesome food became an obsession.  Since we lived in the city, hours away from my husband’s (then only a flower) farm in Bukidnon, I had to rummage about markets and buy expensive organic produce.  My farmer husband saw my weekly grocery receipt and went bonkers over the absurdity of buying expensive food we could grow ourselves.  And so begun our venture into biodynamic vegetable farming.

Fast forward to three years hence and I’m a (hopefully) healthier eater. It’s liberating when you know exactly where your food comes from.  I think the best tasting food cannot be bought at any price.  Of course the best tasting salad should of salad greens picked straight from your garden.  (Here’s an article I wrote for our Farm Blog: Starting your own Kitchen Garden.) But living right by the farm or a having an edible kitchen is still a dream.  And maybe one day we can have restaurants with lists on which farms supplied what, or grocery stores that tell you exactly where the butter was churned and from what milking cow. But until then, I am contented getting my food from our own farm in Bukidnon or getting produce from my trustworthy farmers (now friends.) Knowing where my food is from (well at least most of it) gives me some measure of control over the quality of food my family eats and what businesses I support.  I rely a lot on my list of farms.  They are the farms I would trust my children’s tummies with.

VEGETABLES/FRUITS: My rule for vegetables and fruits in order of preference: (a) biodynamic; (b) organic; (c) local and indigenous. I get them from:

ISIP Center, Palma corner Manalac Sts., San Isidro, Makati  

ISIP can text you a list of the available produce every week.  Order by Sunday: 09209831329.  Market Day is Tuesday

http://isipphilippines.multiply.com/

ISIP is almost like a CSA.  Reimon Gutierrez, our dear friend, got several farmer friends together in one market so consumers can have access to wholesome produce and buy it in one place.

Greg Kitma: Has been growing biodynamic vegetables in Baguio for years and also holds biodynamic farming workshops. We’ve been to his farm too. Greg grows a lot of highland vegetables like carrots, yacon, cabbage and leeks.

Kitchen Herbs: Gejo is also a friend and grows biodynamic herbs and specialty vegetables in Silang, Cavite.  He has a great selection of herbs, sprouts, micro vegetables and salad greens.

Prado Farms: This is Reimon’s own farm in Lubao, Pampanga. We have been there a few times (it’s not only a working farm, it’s also a destination.  You can even arrange for lunch there.) He grows lowland vegetables (the kind you can assemble your Pinakbet with), herbs and some fruits.

ISIP also offers biodynamic brown/red rice from Bios Dynamis managed by another friend, Betsy in Kidapawan, coconut sugar from Coco Natura and also free-range chicken and eggs.

Holy Carabao

Weekly Deliveries can be arranged.  Call Annabelle for inquiries at 09398828722.  

They deliver P50-200 charge, Free delivery within Makati (min. of P500)

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Holy-Carabao/220493567990748 

Our good friends Gippy and Hindy Tantoco own this lovely farm.  You can visit the organic/biodynamic farm (and a Fun Farm for kids too) at Sta. Elena, Sta. Rosa Laguna.  Holy Carabao sells lowland vegetables, herbs, and some fruits.  They also sell biodynamic rice, milk, cheese, honey and fruit and vegetable juices.  I get my hormone free Goat’s Milk (brand is Aussie) and Feta Cheese from them. Their Green Tea and Lemongrass Tea is also my wonderful substitute for the sugary Iced Teas we have in the supermarkets.

Then there’s us: DowntoEarth.

We deliver Th-Sat if you order by Wed.  Call 632-7528826 or 0922-8165147. We are also at the Salcedo and Legaspi Markets during the weekends. 

www.downtoearth.ph

We grow biodynamic specialty vegetables, micro and baby vegetables, salad greens, herbs, sprouts, and edible flowers. You can get a weekly vegetable box too.

Our bestsellers are our Mesclun Salad, french beans, baby Arugula and micro radishes. For a complete list see www.downtoearth.ph.

POULTRY, MEAT and PORK

Pamora Farms http://www.pamorafarm.com/contacts.php

Tina is a good friend. She and her husband Gerard have been raising free-range chicken (French breed) in Abra since 2000.  They also have homemade pates.  You can buy Pamora Chicken and free range eggs at MOM, Legaspi Market on Sundays.

DowntoEarth

This is us again (well, it’s hard not to love your own brand). We sell Grass-Fed Beef, organ meats, and Pasture-raised pork. We also have smoked meats like additive free bacon, tapa, jerky, ham and tocino. The beef comes from our farm and small family farms around Mindanao. They come from cows that have been raised entirely on grass, with little stress and with no hormones and antibiotics.  The pork comes from our own farm and the pigs have been raised on pasture, in spacious outdoor pens. Their natural diet consists of grass, cassava, copra cake, and chopped greens. They don’t get hormones or antibiotics too, nor were they fed any GMO corn or soybean.  www.downtoearth.ph

Prado Farms (above) also has organic/biodynamic Lechon.  He also has Biodynamic Lechon.  His pampered pigs feed on Arugula and only receive homeopathic medicine.   I have tried the Lechon and it’s tasty and guilt-free, because you don’t even see the grease.  You would have to order a few weeks in advance.  09209831329. 

If you go to the local butcher or market to buy beef, here are some tips: Grass Fed beef should be dark red in color (the brighter the red, the more chances the cow has been fed more grain.)  The beef should also be smaller than imported/grain fed beef.  Lastly, grass fed beef is always leaner than other meats. Make sure you don’t see a lot of marbling or fat.  Beef in the supermarket or imported beef (unless labeled pasture-raised or grass fed) will most often be beef from cows that have been fed a majority of grain.

DAIRY

For me, the best would be raw milk, butter and cheese from a grass-fed milking cow (PLUG: we might have these soon!) My next best thing would be Hormone Free Goat’s Milk and Kesong Puti from Holy Carabao. There’s also Rizal’s Dairy, one of the older companies that started organic farming way back in the 1990s. I have bought Peanut Butter, free range eggs and Yoghurt from them since 2006.  You can also find them at the Salcedo Market on Saturdays. They also have a stall at the open air section of Market Market in Fort.

 SEAFOOD

I don’t have a source list but I stay away from heavily farmed fish like Bangus and Tilapia. Good choices would be to buy fish that are caught in the wild and are small. The smaller fish (and those that stay closer to the reef and corals) have lower doses of contaminants like mercury.  Sardines and other fatty fish would be good for Omega 3 but they say not to eat Farmed Salmon, Chilean Seabass or Cod. I also try to buy deep water fish (but then you get the metals, argh!) and fresh shellfish. Oysters are a treat.  There’s also a Sustainable Fish Pocket Guide you can download although it is based on U.S. standards and U.S. seafood.     I stopped using the guide though as it leaves me very little to eat with!  http://www.montereybayaquarium.org/cr/cr_seafoodwatch/sfw_alternatives.aspx

BREAD, CEREAL AND SNACKS

I sincerely try not to buy products made of bleached white flour or refined sugar.  Also, my husband won’t let me buy commercial cereal because he’s paranoid about GMO corn.  But the best thing would really be to bake your own bread, cake or cookies (that I cannot do.)  Healthy Options has a good offering of alternative baking ingredients (I buy the brand Bob’s Red Mill and use organic unbleached white flour though they say the best would be to use coconut flour, which I am yet to see.) They also have Baking Powder and Cornstarch. For the lazy ones, you can buy Muffin, Cookie, Pancakes and Brownie mixes.  Healthy Options would also have a wide variety of choices for healthier snacks.  As much as possible, we stay away from fortified or bleached white flour and corn.

I buy my bread (10 Grain) from Gng. Bukid. They are famous for their Challah bread, Maja Blanca and Pandesitos. He is at the Salcedo Market every Saturday.  http://ginangbukid.blogspot.com/

EVERYTHING ELSE

Everything else I have to buy at the Grocery Store, Health stores (like EchoStore: echostore.ph and Sesou Nature Source), a lot from  the weekend markets or Healthy Options. There are some rules I follow:

1. Try not to buy canned.
2. Don’t buy vegetable oil.  I use Palm oil and olive oil instead.
3. No processed meats with additives.
4. Stay away from anything with the label “high fructose corn syrup, dextrose or fructose” with soybean or corn (chances are they are genetically modified soy or corn), MSG (Use Braggs for soy sauce), aspartame, or with a lot of ingredients I cannot pronounce.

So that’s almost my entire grocery list. Of course I would often stray (more often than I would like.)  And then there’s always the binge, the relapse (especially when eating out) the comfort food, the parties and stress eating. But I tell myself, at least there’s the intention, and the striving. I try. Really, I do.

Some good recipes for cooking can be found: Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon. A good friend who bakes also suggested Fannie Farmer Baking Book.

A good resource on the state of our food: Omnivore’s Dilemma.

Loot Bags

The looting in London happened in mobile phone chains, electric retailers, jewelry stores, and expensive clothing stores. The riots they say, were because young people wanted a taste of things they could not buy. And the unfulfilled desire- they violently resented. And so wreck what you can’t have. Better yet, sack them. Having those expensive gadgets made them more of who they were, or who they ought to be. They coveted that same feeling of affluence, of entering a lavish store, and impulsively shopping.

Streets and Billboards (photo fr. http://getrealphilippines.com)

Which brings me to the streets of Manila. We have that sort of looting everyday. Mobile phones and laptops snatched. Pickpockets. Cars stolen. We have riots in small doses. Who wouldn’t riot with the great divide between those with the Hermes bag and those bearing a knapsack? And who wouldn’t be tempted, with the in-your-face billboard telling you that luxury and fine things will give you beauty, a contented smile, and someone to hold your hand?  As though, “I have, therefore I am.  The measure of self is now determined by shopping activity.  Just look at all the malls we have. (Isn’t it weird, we have even named SM a city!)? And with the excess of cars, the lack of parking space has landed us a joke in David Letterman. Not only that, we are the travel junket for fake bags and shoes.

It used to be stress eating, now it’s de-stress shopping. I live in a world where people salivate over bags and shoes, and where bad quarrels and imperfections are settled by a shimmering stone. But really, has anyone been sated (permanently) by a Birkin bag? A handbag makes a woman like the shoes make the man. It doesn’t help that the champion of the masses’ mother proudly wears her Hermes bag like arm candy and flaunts it like sheer joy.  Suddenly, splurging $1000 on a little purse has become acceptable, even coveted in a country with 40 million living on less than P100 a day.   Shouldn’t we feel the worst for flaunting our excesses? How can we dole out coins to the beggars with the diamond on our finger? And aren’t we taunting them even more as we pervade every corner and every home with advertisements of “must haves?”

The looting in our streets may be the consequence of poverty. But it may also be a symptom of a deeper malady of conspicuous consumption. Of a need to have enough so you are assured of a fulfilling life, of social acceptance, of lifting a stigma of being “have-nots,” of status, of respect, of being afforded existence in a material world.

There is looting in Manila everyday. Pickpockets. Car thefts. Snatching. And an unchanging landscape may have anesthetized us to the malady in our streets. And so we go about our day, oblivious to the oddity of having security guards with guns in every corner or that our bags have to be checked for bombs. And we go about our day, clutching our handbags tight and making sure we don’t wear real diamonds on the street.

Green Wash

Everyone’s jumping on the green bandwagon. Seems like every brand in the grocery store is now green, “eco-friendly” and filled with “natural goodness.”

The Philippines does not have a strict labeling system.  While we have the Bureau of Product Standards and the BFAD, their mandatory requirements fall short of what consumers should actually be told. BFAD only requires manufacturers to write: name, ingredients, net content, manufacturer and a telephone number for complaints. A Nutrition Info Table (which is also misleading) is only required when there are nutrition or health claims. For organic products, the OCCP is the organic certification body.  They do have a training and certification program. However, the use of the term “organic” for food packaging is not strictly regulated. In fact, there are numerous local “organic” products in the market but only a few actually certified by the OCCP.

These (what I think) are the most abused labels:

1.  “All Natural” and “Natural”

There are no standards for the use of these phrases. And so manufacturers follow the market trend and label their products “natural.”  The standard? A semblance of any fruit or vegetable. It does not matter whether these “natural” substances have been chemically processed, are food concentrates, or heavily induced with additives.  Products that contain reconstituted vegetables or fruits and high fructose corn syrup are on the shelves posing with the “Au Natural” label. Candy and boxed cereals have colorful pictures of healthy (smiling) fruits on them. Anything that has a teeny drop of fruit or vegetable in it is now “Natural.”  Even Knorr Pork Cubes is on the “Natural” shelf because it has itty-bitty pork in it, never mind the MSG.  Instant Pancit Canton proudly labels “No artificial preservatives added.”   Even yoghurt is now green-washed. Read the ingredients and except for some Lactobacillus and bits of fruit, it’s all calories and sugar.

2.Healthy

Now this is pure marketing genius. Sexy actress sipping the beverage with the tagline: “for a healthier you” and you’ll have people drinking themselves silly with sugar. Look at the popularity of sugary drinks, now being marketed as having “freshly brewed tea leaves.” The most common deception is to highlight just one or two benefits, without disclosing the entire package. Think “for a healthy heart” and a picture of an old couple in tai chi poses. Or boxes with children and rosy cheeks, reciting A to Zinc. The claims are not approved by the BFAD and there is no scientific proof to support their claim.

3.  High-fiber

High fiber is another misleading label that I didn’t quite understand. But I read about it and found out that while fiber can come from traditional sources like whole grain or vegetable, it can also come from inulin, maltodextrin, pectin, gum or other purified powders. Read the ingredient list (you might have to use a magnifying glass.)

4.  Sugar Free

I was deceived too many times by this claim.  My stepfather and father-in-law are diabetic and so sugar-free options were supposedly the choice for them. But these are often made with artificial sweeteners. And it’s not even the lesser of two evils.  For example, Splenda, Nutrasweet, and anything with aspartame are quite controversial and have been linked to cancer.

5.  No transfat

I say be wary of this one.  Often, if you really check, it may have 0 trans-fat but loads of saturated fat and total fat elsewhere.

6. Organic

Now this can just be “fibbing.” There are a lot of traders passing off their products as organic. Unlike the US, we do not have strict organic standards and labeling is not being regulated. In other places, you need to put the percentage of organic ingredients.  You also have to make sure that the land where the produce comes from has been without chemical fertilizers for a number of years. And you can only use USDA Organic if you meet the standards. It seems like the requirements here are that you think little or no synthetic inputs were used and that there are no food additives. It’s mostly self-regulation and the label organic is easily abused. You also never know if the products have genetically modified ingredients.

No one really knows whether the farmers actually comply with the “organic” standards. I have passed by market stalls selling organic produce, and I wonder how in the tropical world did they manage to grow those vegetables organically.  Locally grown, big and robust red peppers and large salad tomatoes are for me, not organic (unless they have found a magical way to grow them in our tropical climate.) You simply cannot grow them like that here.  Well, unless under strict growing conditions and roofing, which only a VERY few farms have. (Or maybe we just don’t know how.)  I have also been to an “organic” strawberry farm. They wouldn’t let us enter the neighboring patch because these had just been sprayed. But this other patch, they said, “it’s organic.”  As if the wind of chemicals won’t drift.

But seriously, until we’re able to regulate the use of the organic label here, it’s important to really know and trust your farmer, your trader, or the manufacturer selling his/her organic products.

7.  Pasture-raised- This one is not yet common but I do think it will be one day.  Most animals will be raised with some pasture but with a lot of access to grain. As of now, there is no requirement on how much percentage of pasture is needed to properly label a product pasture-raised.  The animals can also be fed antibiotics or injected hormones.  Similarly, there is no standard for grass-fed.  The only requirement is access to grass during its life.  There is yet no restriction on the use of antibiotics or hormones either. For me, true grass-fed, even pastured, should be fed grass from start to finish, and without antibiotics or hormones. 

8.  Eco-friendly, Environmentally-friendly- This is easy. Color your bottle green, use earth tones, rustic fonts, and put images of trees, leaves and butterflies. These alone will do the trick.

But you really cannot blame companies for doing their utmost to market their wares. (I actually jumped on the  bandwagon too.) And maybe they can indeed put pretty pictures and color their boxes green, even highlight the good about their products. But I do hope the white lies, the deception and fibbing stops. More than these, the most prudent thing to do is to be a more conscious consumer. Read the label, and then the fine print. Be informed.  What is high-fructose corn syrup? What good is an artificial sweetener? What about enriched flour? Why the tiny font on ingredient list (I actually cannot read some!)  Who am I supporting by buying this or that?

And I’m not saying you can’t eat anything else but.  I still enjoy Choc-Nut. I would give in to potato chips. Some spicy food just won’t do without Coke. I can’t say no to Boy Bawang. And there’s always the Pancit Canton temptation after a hang over. Eat your Boy Bawangs and Choc-Nut, but eat it (with gusto) KNOWING that you’re feasting on finger-licking good MSG and insulin-spiking sugar. I’m all for informed choices, healthy or not. I just don’t want you proudly slurping on a “freshly brewed tea” sugary drink deluded into thinking you’re on your way to a healthier you.

Clearing Spaces

Been clearing out clutter the past few days. It’s meant to make way for the new to come in. I usually pride myself with my neatness. I grew up with everything spic and span.  And so, I cannot quite stand a cluttered desk or anything out of place.

But being clutter-free is not just about being neat and organized.  It also means being free of things you no longer need, having minimal storage, and having less of things that still need fixing, even giving away unwanted gifts. 

And while I have labeled things into boxes and coded them into files, I still have boxes of things waiting to be used, things to fix, and things that I still cannot just throw out. (Wow, reading through that, that sort sums up life.)

Organized clutter is what I have. My desks are bursting with an assortment of odds and ends.  My tidy closet is filled with clothes I do not use (a chest of suits and killer shoes.) In fact, I only wear less than 20% of what’s in my closet. The unwanted garb, reflections of someone I was, are there left waiting, wearing out its use. And yet every year, I “spring-clean” and again, organize and stack them to gather more dust.  Maybe this year I could find use for them.  I say: time to just let it go.

Image fr. http://blog.iqmatrix.com/life-success-series/de-clutter-your-life-mind-map

We like to keep memorabilia. We also just have way too much garb. And we try to fill in too many shoes. Our lives are an assortment of things I suppose. Collections.  But the clutter restricts us, sort of like a crowded room that does not give you much room to move.  I see my 80-20 closet as a metaphor for life. As though I am unable to let go of an old collection of me (honestly, who wants to wear stiff, uncomfortable, itchy suits and shoes that hurt anyway?)  By doing so, I somehow don’t leave much room for the life I really want now. And foolishly, I remind myself about the confusion everyday, as I open my closet door.

There’s a need to purge the old stuff.  You cannot just always keep things to deal with them later.  Overflowing drawers allow no room for new things.  Crowded spaces won’t let you move.  It’s quite simple, when you bring in something new, let go of something old.  What you wear everyday, that’s you. What you haven’t worn in ages, you lost her somewhere in the past. Sort through the boxes, and let go of junk.  There are things that are no longer loved, unwanted, not even useful, let these go. These can be more precious to someone else.   Most of all, be clear about who you are and what you want.  Everything else will just be clutter.

I’m doing mine one room at a time. So this week, garage sale, suits and killer shoes for sale.

Hearth and Home

Been watching Mad Men non-stop.  And I wonder whether the 50’s stereotype of women has somehow stuck. And where does that put me? A housewife whose realm is not the kitchen and whose suburbia is definitely not a spic and span house.

Sometimes I wish I could cook. That, and do crafts. Come to think of it, I don’t fit the “motherly” stereotype. I don’t even understand why my 6-yr. old likes to draw me with an apron and heels when I have never donned both. And neither will they reminisce to the smell of freshly baked cookies and cinnamon.  I even flinch when they mention I’m a stay-at-home-mom.  It simply was not part of my “what I want to be when I grow up” list.

I remember our high school slam book.  You won’t find my name under “Most Likely to Get Married” or “Have kids.” In fact, my heading was: “Most likely to be a Mistress.” (Don’t know if I should be shameful or proud of the distinction.) My best friend who’s a badass litigation lawyer keeps putting off motherhood, and wonders how in the world I’m able to occupy entire days at home.  Even my soul sister once said: It’s wasn’t like you to be a mom, but somehow, you’re doing fine at it.

Isn’t keeping house innate?  Or am I to thank the heavens that the likely Mistress got married, had kids and hasn’t burned the house, yet. The thoughts preoccupied me till I realized: throw the mommy and housewife stereotype out the window.   There should be a new kind of domestic goddess, keeping the hearth and home. And television should learn a thing or two about the new breed. Because I’m quite tired of watching the happy housewives dull routine of cleaning in pearls, singing with imaginary notes in the air, even hanging up dirty laundry. And I equally hate people equating modern housewives with fat lips who shop and gossip at housewives clubs. And please, find us another product to sell other than cleaning ware or shampoo.

Here are some hints:

1. We don’t wear aprons, pearls and heels all day. Not all of us can cook (well, we try.) We don’t sing, crochet or do needlework. (I can’t even fold the bed sheets right. Although I would still crown the ideal mommy-housewives who are able to bake, crochet and do the laundry, in their heels!)
2. We’re not preoccupied with dirt.  And when we do clean, we don’t smile so joyfully.
3. We don’t stay home because we’re timid, shy, dumb or because we’re lacking in ambition. We’re cut out for the real world. We just prefer the wackier world of home.
4. We got the dough.  We don’t depend entirely on allowance or alimony for being mothers and wives. We can earn our own keep. Most work from home and get paid.  Yes, that’s what working from home means. It’s work and it ain’t free.
5. We’re not mothering hens. Our husbands and children are not our entire world neither are we defined by them. We didn’t leave ourselves behind in exchange for housewife suburbia.
6. Forget submissive or dependent.  Decisions are not deferred to husband.  We make the decisions (ok, together.)
7. Women’s clubs. Nah.
8. We can still change the world from home. Hey, there’s a lot of time to spare, why not just save the world; and
9. We have fun doing what you would actually, maybe, in your heart of hearts,  be rather doing.

And oh, we have time to waste writing nonsense.

Best Party Ever

The kids made these!

My little girl just turned 4.  And once more, I just had the joy and pain of making sure this one had her Bird and Butterfly party.  It’s difficult not to get seized by the mommy competition for “best party ever.” I go through the dilemma every year.  “Don’t lose the meaning in the celebration,” I tell myself.  It’s tough not to keep up with the Mommy Joneses. My kids were gushing when they came home from the last party, filled to rapture with prizes and glitz. But keeping up with the Joneses can often get out of control. And really, who are we putting out a show for?  The Mommy Joneses or the birthday girl?

And so every year, despite the competition, I have managed to evade party planners; wacky, witty, sometimes annoying party hosts; sumptuous gourmet catering; larger than life prizes; snow cone machines and chocolate fountains; make up, glitter and face painting; bouncing houses and (yes, I’ve seen them) carousels!

Growing up I still think I won “best party ever.” And yet what did my mommy give me?  A birthday cake, musical chairs, handmade loot with Bazooka bubble gum, and all my friends gathering around the table for a birthday song.  And oh, presents of course.   I don’t miss the lavish party I never got.  Nor will I ever yearn for live shows of eating fire and the party host that made us “bring him” daddy’s shoe.  I would rather have daddy as host, helping me with my treasure hunt. And know what I remember the most? I remember my mom toiling days before my birthday, cutting out wrappers, making paper chains and hanging banners on strings.  I remember my nanny making me cheese pimiento and egg sandwiches, and getting to lick spaghetti sauce off the wooden spoon.   And I remember racing to sit on a chair or posing as a statue, the cassette player paused.  We had tiny plastic toys and candy that hung on a bamboo; our piñata was a clay pot. It was simple. It was magical.

I won’t break the bank for my children’s parties. What will I teach them with over the top and lavish, and about getting your every whim and fancy?   If there’s a flamboyant carousel for her first birthday party, what happens on her 3^rd, give her a pony?  Take her to Paris on her 7^th?  This mommy makes her invitation by hand, will cook spaghetti (nana does. And I order food too, this mommy just can’t cook) and will always have egg and cheese pimiento sandwiches on the table. I’ve learned variations of good ole musical chairs and pin the tail.  I am the wacky, witty and maybe annoying party host, and I still cut, string, sew and glue decors (with a little help from nana and friends.) Yes, and we can do themes. Bugs, butterflies, princesses, fairies, a farm, China, and even Mexico.  And friends and family have honored us too, being puppets, the storyteller, even the mascot. I like celebrating BIRTH days, just that.  That doesn’t take much off my wallet, just a whole lot of backbreaking love. And I don’t think my children mind the least bit. (Well, maybe they just don’t tell me.)  But I see it in their equally enraptured eyes, glitzy prizes or not.  Their faces still light up as I hang an imperfect banner I had painted and cut out.  And I still see big toothy grins after the song has been sung and the candle puffed out. And maybe one day, they will see my yearly labor of love, as I make a fool of myself in their games, and glue-stick my fingers into a dozen cut outs.

Dis-Ease

I woke up one day to bullfrog eyes and hives all over my body.  Every crease in my eye was exaggerated as though there was a magnifying glass to it.  That, and little red splotches all over.  Like a polka-dot bullfrog.  Only, it wasn’t Halloween yet. I was having an adverse reaction to a powerful dose of antibiotics I took the day before. Thank goodness I skipped the last dose.  That would have turned me into a spotted English bulldog that cannot breath.  

(Diagnosis: I should have listened to my hunch and avoided a tough dose of Clindamycin.)

Please don’t get me wrong. I am not against antibiotics. They can save lives, especially fatal infections.  But as with most magic medicine, we often take it to excess, pop it at the sign of a lingering cough, or some fever. Antibiotics are now the most frequently prescribed medication! And suppressants and painkillers, the pill-popper’s favorite.  I have had too many arguments with mother and MIL. They cannot understand why I wouldn’t give my children cure-all antibiotics when they are seemingly dog-tired and coughing their heads off.  In the same way, I cannot comprehend why they insist on antibiotics for a virus or a sore throat.

(Sickness 101: Antibiotics do not work against virus, only against bacteria.)

I am cautious about antibiotics for a cold, cough, flu, even a fever. Honestly, why use the magic pill when there’s a strong immune system that might even do better.  You call them antibodies and they can actually annihilate harmful bacteria or attack infection. I would only take antibiotics if (1) the infection were serious; and (2) my doctor strongly insists despite my insolence that I have to take it.

Why am I so dubious about antibiotics?  Well, for one thing, they are not so smart. Antibiotics cannot distinguish between good and bad bacteria, so they end up eliminating both. Trigger-happy medicine. Antibiotics will get rid of ALL the bacteria in your body.  And so they destroy the beneficial bacteria we need- little helpers that actually aid digestion, boost our immunity and rid us of toxins.  Like fighting a war with no sides, taking children and women too. So just in case you really have to take antibiotics, take Probiotics after, drink Kefir, or eat yoghurt to restore your body’s beneficial bacteria.

Secondly, antibiotics are quite flimsy. The more you use them, the more useless they become. Bad bacteria will begin to resist antibiotics with too much use.  They’re also fussy. You have to take all doses at about the same time and complete them for days and weeks. And worst, while at it, you can’t even take a glass of wine. Now, who wants that?

Lastly, there are a whole bunch of alternative remedies you can try to attack bad bacteria or ward off an infection: warming teas, cold compresses, massages, simple water and plain old rest. Then there are homeopathic remedies. Voodoo medicine. That’s how my best bud calls it. (And yet, when he’s sick, he asks me if he could have some of it anyway!) I have nursed my children (and myself) through high fever, terrible sore throats and debilitating flu, with nothing but voodoo medicine, unending compresses and a dose of faith.  Of course there’s always the temptation to reach for the fever suppressant when the thermometer hits 39. I even wonder whether I’ve turned witch-mama as my child looks at me with glassy eyes, a red nose, and talking through coughing fits.

But there is a certain knowing, instinct, and intuition that tells you to trust the magic of your own beautifully designed body.  Your body will always endeavor to bring back the balance in the imbalance.  Disease is exactly that: DIS-EASE, a lack of ease.  Healing is exactly that: from the Germanic root “HALE” meaning “making whole.” And often, pain and sickness have been my informant friend, telling me what I am doing wrong.  Why suppress that?

And again, please don’t get me wrong. I am all for conventional, allopathic medicine. What I want is informed medical intervention, not chronic over-medication or a quickie relief.  It is more sensible to take responsibility for your own health, rather than rely with reckless abandon on others, expert or not. I have suffered more pain by needless testing and more weakness taking medication I didn’t need anyway.  Sometimes the panic and anxiety (and perpetual waiting at the emergency room) makes me sicker. I was intimated by the doctor I never saw in the delivery room.  She told the resident I needed extra-strong antibiotics on the expert opinion that I MIGHT develop an infection. Even my alternative doctor thought that maybe I needed it.  And so, going against my own reason, I took the pill that gave me bugged-out eyes and polka dots. Which gives me an idea, I should take Clindamycin for Halloween.

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Just in case you want to learn more, a good friend Jake Tan wrote a book: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Healing-Ourselves-from-Medicine/194827963898595 and there’s also an upcoming workshop on healing.

(Disclaimer: this article was not written for marketing purposes. I just thought this Workshop and Jake’s book are a great complement to my article.)

Internet Yin Yang

I am slowly turning into mouse potato. Sucked into the screen, oblivious to time and space. An hour online (or so I thought) and yet an entire morning has ticked by in the real world. Sort of like stumbling into the wardrobe closet and finding yourself in Narnia.  Only, it’s the reverse.  Time shuts down at the screen. But it goes on in real time.

I have attempted too many times to curb Internet use.  Mornings only. Not. Unplug by 4PM. Sometimes. Because there’s always something I forgot.  A miniscule thing I have to check. And wham, a little peek becomes an hour, and then I’m drawn into the vortex again.  Worse, I have lost all powers of concentration. Computer-deficit disorder. Somehow, I can no longer stay focused on one page. Even do just one thing, at a time. (Honestly, are you still able to read a long book without distraction?)

But why is the Internet so addicting?  Maybe it’s the capacity to connect to anyone, at anytime.  Perhaps it’s the abundance of information in a second.  Probably it’s the gossiping, the peek into everyone else’s lives, or their thoughts, their perfect tagged smiles, or even their food.  Or possibly because someone, somewhere is finally paying attention. Maybe. But I believe it’s certainly about this one place where everyone is seemingly free. No boundaries. The closest thing we can get to a real democracy.  Where money does not rule. Where there are no protocols or rules of conduct and no one to tell you you’re not fancy enough, affluent enough, pretty enough, or even grammar-worthy enough. And everyone’s just like everyone else.

“On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog” -Peter Steiner

You see, never in my wildest dreams did I think I could read Alain de Botton’s thoughts.  Or that Paolo Coelho would follow me.  Or that I could study almost anything, without big business or government screening what gets on my head, or my plate. Even that I could write to Time Magazine and have them post my comment for the world to see. And that I could think out loud and have hundreds read them.   And that maybe, I might have found a wormhole to change worlds.

So how does this work?  Where do I find the Yin and Yang of it all? I reckon, the challenge is to sift through the Internet bounty and separate the wheat from the chaff.  Also, to keep the humanity despite the machine. For example:

• The nonsensical games are the virtual black hole. So are the countless links. Stop tripping on them. These are the absolute time warps.
• Treat an inbox as you would have a mailbox. Check it but once a day (ok, twice.) Just do not check in every hour.  And please stop bringing out your Blackberry when you’re out having dinner with friends.
• Facebook and Twitter should mimic real life. You don’t hover over someone else’s life the entire day.   Or endlessly sing yourself praises.
• Make your own boundaries in a world without bounds. We often hide behind the mask of anonymity, mistaking brashness for courage. I have read too much hate posts online. That, and way too much information: like what you have for dinner, everyday.
• Take time to dive through the Internet gunk slowly.  Some emails and articles should be pondered on, digested and absorbed, not skimmed through.
• Spend more time in the real world, however imperfect it may be.  Unplug when your children come home from school. Connect with friends and family you can actually hold.
• Constantly be in awe and respect the enormity of the power that now lies in your hands. You no longer need pigeons or a plane. Make sense of every connection made, however  uninvolved it might be. Your integrity is your word. Speak your own truth as best you can. Especially now, because the entire world might just read it.
• And remember, the virtual world has no sense of time or space. Log off and all virtual time will cease. It waits for you.  And all your spaces stay put. It’s the same space next time. Log off from the real world and real time persists, leaving you behind. It does not wait. And that expanse that was your life is never the same again.

So now I take off my Mouse Potato hat. Surely it will be where I leave it for next time. Logging off. To catch up on time. Get on real spaces.>

 

Sowing Patience

I might have just unearthed a perfect lesson plan for patience. Definitely not by example. I grew up in a city where everything moved fast. It seems like the only waiting I had to do was wait for next week’s episode of Alf or Small Wonder. But then that too vanished with Betamax tapes. And so a mother who grumbles at the slow pace of things could not be the patience exemplar.

Trying to harvest rambutans

Because lately I have had to grumble some more: about food this time. I grew up buying food at the grocery. You ride your car, grab what you need, (you don’t even have to bag them!) and then run home for a pleasant meal, several courses too. Fast food and the drive-through were my generation’s ingenuous development. Now twenty years later, we are in the food business. Not grocery. Not fastfood. But the very slow-moving, plodding, “let nature take’s it course,” biodynamic farming business.  And so let the worms nibble on the dirt, forever turning the soil, let the organic matter leisurely bake under the sun and decay under rain, and worst, follow the sowing calendar. It’s your biblical “there is a time to reap and a time to sow.” And the tomatoes we planted four months ago?  I tried the first handful just last week.

And so here I am complaining about: why we could not have baby carrots for months and why next week there will be no French beans but an overabundance of broccolini; that the raw milk has been missing for days; or that on Christmas, I did not have enough red roses for all my friends’ trees. I wanted the tomatoes growing soon after they were planted. Or at least,  consistently give me enough for pasta. And I thought really, how can we tell a customer, “it’s out of stock?”  What about their weekly grocery list?  And what will I tell the friends who ordered bright red roses for Christmas because we had tons of them last year!

My kids with their Wowo and Dad Farmers

But farming is patience.  (Inhale.)  And I have to grasp that bit of it. (Exhale.)  Delayed gratification. Our farm, and the novel luxury of growing at least 70% of our food is teaching me more about patience than 16 years of Catholic school. Waiting. Patiently. Without drumming your fingers. It’s a long time between sowing the first seed and the seedlings creeping up. A seemingly endless time between the buds peeping and when you can pick them. You can’t just pull up carrots until they are ready. Before that, there’s the tedious business of preparing beds, composting and mulching. And then, you’re at the mercy of rain and sun. (Not to mention weather that has now gone wacko on us.) And finally, the seemingly endless dance of nature will give you a bounty of delectable gifts, because you hung around. Patiently. Without drumming your fingers. And I wonder if the waiting titillates the tongue, fires up the tummy, or gets yummier with anticipation. Because the bounty is often worth the wait. You relish the tartiness of that little vegetable more, or the crunch of that leafy green, as you had to wait for it to grow, in its own SWEET time.

So you see, I might have just uncovered a perfect way to teach my daughters patience. It might ward off boys and teach “waiting for the Right One.” It is tough trying to make them (and myself) value and be amazed by unhurried time, by minute changes as days pass and nights come, by the deliberate ripening of life. Because this world does not make us wait for things.  How will we have the patience to wait for seeds to germinate? For buds to burst forth? Or only to pluck when they are ripe? We live in the world of Internet and text messaging. And we don’t even have to wait for episodes of a TV series, we can download entire Seasons!

So I’m going to bring my children to our farm more, dig dirt, sow and reap instead of exercising their nimble fingers in front of the screens. The farm will teach them how to linger, how not to have everything here and now, how to work for something and be responsible for it, that seeds die when you don’t nourish them, and especially that the soil won’t sprout them a new one in seconds. Who knows, they might even learn to appreciate the toil and trouble it took to bring that green leafy thing they don’t want to eat on the table.

“Life on a farm is a school of patience; you can’t hurry the crops or make an ox in two days.” Alain, Henri

Pride v. Prejudice

I’m on to an experiment. On playing big. No more griping about why I hate this country. Won’t poke fun at the Filipinos’ bizarre habits. Won’t even write another word about exasperating _________.

You see, I’m suddenly noticing a mass of Pinoy self-flagellation. We like to goof around on ourselves: on our being Filipinos; on our country’s folly; endlessly critic what doesn’t work; and then mock the sorry state of our nation. That may be the reason why “It’s More Fun in the Philippines” is having such a heyday. As Felipe de Leon put it: “We have been belittling ourselves and have become the worst self-bashers in the world.” I’ve never seen a citizenry having so much fun at its own expense.

I was tempted to start writing about our cult of smallness. And realized that I would merely be reaffirming my point. I was going to self-bash on Filipinos anew. But what if I begun celebrating grand-ness. Tell you how I, along with many other Filipinas have always been proud about my brown skin instead of grumble about whitening soaps again. That I could easily love the name Mayumi and would have been happy to name my daughter that. Or maybe, that I read Filipino literature to my kids, and that they dote on Ines Kannoyan equally as they worship Cinderella. Even tell you about exquisite artisan treasures I saw at the export fair. I would have bought the entire exhibit except that the foreigners manning the booth wouldn’t let me. They were zealously guarding the prized Filipino crafts, wary of a Filipina who had uncovered their little secret. We don’t need “stateside.” They make them here!

And as Felipe de Leon said, what if we begun to celebrate our country’s triumphs instead of our defeats? Stop recalling the botched up bus hostage rescue and instead revel in every Filipino rescue that happens as I write. Or what about considering heartening stories as newsworthy too? We’re fascinated with death and destruction. Soak up on stories of misery (including sobbing actresses.) Why is that? I am tired of hearing stories about our country’s wretched poverty, the violence happening in all sectors, corruption, yes, death and destruction. We are fond of rendering this country hopeless. That, or we just stay in our cynicism. Maybe, a new way of looking at things is in order. Instead of lamenting the negative, polarized, oppressive institutions that no longer work, why not exalt the stories that inspire?

And I say we should remove all those tilted statues of a bound-up Rizal being shot. Even that of a terrified Ninoy going down the tarmac. Why show them in their most vulnerable and dying moments? Let’s have Rizal sit erect, pen in hand, showing off his slick mustache. And please, let’s stop all the copying. Do we have to bear another cheesy movie or hear another screechy song? Why copy crap? This time, let’s try to really define ourselves, on our own terms. Can someone please remind us and play “American Junk” on the radio again? We’re such an imaginative race. Really. We need to resurrect the likes of “Pumapatak Ang Ulan.” Want another proof of creative? Just look at the stream of very inventive “It’s More Fun in the Philippines” anecdotes.

We may be 14th most happiest in the world but please let’s not laugh at our expense. Don’t let the joke be on us. Let’s try this time, to think big. Grand-stand. As Marian Williamson puts it ”you’re playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking.” This cult of smallness has not served us at all. And there’s no other thing to do in this darkness except light a candle. Some people might call it new age-y but I do think we do create our own realities. Nick Perlas says: “a nation’s pessimism tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.” So why not be more deliberate about thinking big?

And so, I’m onto an experiment of imagining and creating grand things for this country. And I’ll do my best to make it #1forFun. Please remind me when I go back to self-loathing.

“If in our minds we think we will be defeated, we have already lost. If we think we are an inferior people, we will tend to lower our standards and be satisfied with good enough. Negative self-images, whether individual or collective, can cause untold social and cultural damage. We have to begin celebrating our genius as a people and not continue to neurotically wallow in our defeats.” Felipe de Leon J (This article was inspired by the article of Felipe de Leon Jr. See https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mission-Possible/269780463052783)

Image taken from: extraordinaryjaney.wordpress.com

Weather or Not, it’s a wet summer

I’m sitting here shivering because I wore the wrong clothes. Light and sleeveless and of course bright orange, just because it’s summer. But the weather’s been in such hurry that it’s raining in March. I had a whole armoire of summer clothes and a flawless plan for our island getaway. What do I do with those? Summer was my perfect prescription for past days of feeling downcast: saltwater, sundecks, and entire days to perfect the art of doing nothing.

(A girl just came to ask me if I’d rather go inside seeing I am a bit wet. I told her I’d wait it out a bit more. You never know in this weather.)

But this isn’t just a drizzle. I forecast a downpour for the day. And the wind feels cold for tropical weather. You simply can’t deny climate change anymore. And I’m not talking big here like floods or drought. Even for the unmindful, oblivious or self-absorbed, this unsettling weather dampens your wardrobe and all holiday plans.

(Now I’m really cold and rethinking my decision to stay outdoors. If a tropical girl cannot have coffee outdoors, we’re in big trouble.)

I pronounce Mother Nature is becoming more and more a woman: temperamental, you can never predict her moods anymore. Now imagine how other creatures feel like? The erratic weather wreaks havoc on breeding and migration and yes, dampens their holiday plans too. The fish were awaiting sunny weather, their signal to go to deeper waters but it’s not even April and the waters are cold again. At least they can rest from the poking and jabbing of eager humans who won’t be diving this year. Or what about birds? Without a real summer, will they still be flying elsewhere for frolic and relaxation? Even the bees’ work hours have been cut short. They barely had enough time to make honey. We were able to collect enough for a dozen bottles or so, and then gone again. Or what about flowers that eagerly await warmth to blossom? Do they prematurely burst from bud or bury their heads in the soil again? Imagine what it does to our farm? My husband is losing his head worrying about all the water flooding our beds and the excess moisture in the soil.

Summer barely begun and now it is raining again. The seasons are messed up and we’re all left to waiting and wondering. Things were easier when we knew when to stock up on water or fix our roofs, when the birds and the bees and the flowers and trees, could time their lives to the pulse of Mother Nature, and when we knew what to wear or plan a new destination, despite an unpredictable weather bureau.

(The rain has stopped but the skies are a drab, nothing like my summer Picasso sky. And I am still here “chilling” out because I picked the wrong outfit for a wet summer day.)

The Scream

The Scream

We spent the day at the beach. Azure waters and a shore that went forever. A hut. Shady tree. Rhum on ice. The music of the waves. Solitude.

Well, that for an hour. And then the noise barrage came. And a sea of shrieking Karaoke. Not one. Two in competition. No wonder the seagulls halted in midair and the waves seemingly stopped rolling to shore. I could no longer hear them. I couldn’t even hear myself. I was now immersed in “How do I live without you” and the image of forlorn women swirling in my head.

What do you do when you are besieged with intolerable noise? Unhealthy food you can avoid. Doors and windows keep out fumes. But what about unwanted noise that you cannot simply shut out? Your ears are wide open, even when you are asleep. Noise is “in your face.” I wanted to find a way out of noise pollution. Is there anything you can do about blaring loudspeakers, especially when you have to endure songs outside your music genre? Can I tune out of that ear-splitting radio show on every taxi ride? Piercing, several decibels high, deafening noise is all the rage. For some reason, this country’s song of choice is squealing and squawking. (That and a radio commentator doing baby talk, hysterics on the side.) And how do you silent honk-crazy drivers? Or what about my brother who lives next door to a 24-7 party? His neighbors have sung him out of house and home. Busses and trains; hammering construction noise; the buzz of gadgets, background television; the nearby table’s gossip; or a preachy judge who wouldn’t stop lecturing? My list goes on.

I searched for a Philippine noise pollution law. The US have a maximum outdoor noise level of 65 decibels and recommend an indoor level of 45 decibels (and I bet that’s our normal noise.) Somehow they have realized that elevated sound levels affect you. Not just in an annoying, bratty kind of way. (Studies show too much noise can cause hypertension, changes in your immune system, affect cognitive performance and sleep, and even be the cause of birth defects.) But I realize, our country is a fan of loudspeakers, wang wangs, and of course Karaoke. No one sees incessant, rackety, high decibel sound as a health hazard. My way out is to classify the noise as a “nuisance” and if I’m mad enough, file a complaint. But what sort of response will I get from the police? “You’re calling for what? Noise? Killjoy!” And really, with our crime rate, who gives a hoot?

But I honestly believe the right to peace should include the right to be free from unwanted noise. Noise is not just a nuisance. It is pollution. Unwanted noise invades your space, and seeks you out even in your solitude. It barges in without your permission. I should have a right to choose what I take in, acoustics included. This country is beset by (I’d say even obsessed with) noise. The squealing and squawking is imposed on us, in our homes, our offices, on the streets, even in my beach. I want out of this racket and yet there is nothing I can do except cover my ears.

Clearing the House for the New Year

It’s funny how people would chuckle when I tell them I rang bells and lighted incense sticks in my house when we first moved in, and once a year after that. They find it quite strange, “you’re really a witch”, they say. But just the same, they are quick to anyway, put a bowl of rice in their new home, and have it blessed by a priest. They even throw coins to bring luck. When I asked why, they said that’s what the oldies told them. And so I explained, it’s the same concept. You do it with rice and a blessing, I do mine with flowers, candles, salt and a bell. I say tomato, you say tomato.

I guess the old folks knew a thing or two about the energy (“spirits” they say) around everything, especially our homes. I see it in just the same way as having to sweep out the dust and remove the clutter. We do have to clean the stagnant energy as well. I remember growing up and having had to move homes at least 15 times. There was always something different about every home. Some felt happier, others felt just sinister, more dark (well, others would blame ghosts or the Kapre in the Balete tree.) But I have learned to cleanse my home in my own way, reading articles by fellow good witches. I don’t understand what happens, but it always feels as though the house is a little brighter. As though I just switched the lights on again.

Here’s my ritual for clearing spaces. I do it right before the Chinese New Year or when I feel like arguments or problems have dampened my space. I like using the 4 elements so fire (candles), air (incense), water (I just use a spritzer with essential oil) and earth (salt). Don’t worry, there’s no chanting or dancing around the fire. It’s really simple and you can even just do it like an ordinary cleaning day.

 

Pretty Simple Clearing Space Ritual

1. Clean the house physically. Remove clutter.

2. Open windows and let the light in.

3. Put lots of flowers around the house.

4. Light candles.

5. You can put salt in little containers in four corners of the house and leave it for 24 hours. But don’t be too obsessed about this.

6. Use a bell or even just clap to “dislodge stagnant energy.” Start at door, then do it in every corner of each room. My kids and I do it as a sort of fun game. So you don’t feel too weird, just liken it to the Chinese custom of lighting fireworks to ward off demons during the New Year.

7. Carry a lighted incense stick while going around the rooms & corners. Again, think of it as something akin to air freshener to get rid of bad air. You can mist the room with water too. If you think it too voodoo, just leave the lighted incense sticks in those “sticky places.”

8. While doing all these, you might want to intend what you want to happen or create. Sometimes it’s just to clear out energies and harmonize it. Or it may be to clear out the energies of previous occupants (if you’re moving into a new place.) I usually also try to bless the house and all that live in it.

As you can see, it’s really as simple as cleaning and as the blessing ritual a priest would normally do, and which most of us accept with ease (but this one, you don’t need a big party after.)