The Heart's Desire

I used to say I was a reformed Catholic.
Really, I did.
As I think of it I realize there is something dishonest about that.

The more honest statement is this: the values I learned from the way the Catholic faith was taught to me are the very fuel that keep me going, that keep me true. If I am truly honest, the values of love, compassion, fidelity, child-like-faith, the unflinching pursuit of deep understanding and a genuine sense of wonder - these mark my character and strength. I learned them all through the way my heart and mind were reared. Some of this happened in "school" and a lot of this happened through the people life continues to shower me with, through the school of life.

In a country where poverty sits side by side with opulence, a heart can only make sense of things through faith and understanding. In a family where night time rituals include bedtime prayers, the soul learns to search every day. And in a home where love indeed conquers all disagreements, misunderstanding and heartbreak one inevitably learns how to make room, to forgive, to accept. And ultimately, this is what all lessons about the life of Christ taught me - a compassionate heart makes room.

And isn't this ultimately the heart's true desire and destiny? To love wholly, without condition. To accept people for who they are, be a mirror that reflects back their best light? The moon is full tonight, and so is my heart. If you hear some raucous howling, join in. Heed your heart and sing the happy howls so full and well-loved.

That Sickening Sense of Entitlement

What is it with people who come at things with statements like "I deserve this?!" Where do people get off feeling they are entitled to anything anymore? Have they been living under a rock? Have they been on a media diet? Or are they simply without a clue or two?

What we do or don't deserve is irrelevant in this world that is all topsy turvy. Let me tell you who deserves better.

Think of that hard-working father of three, who has kept at a job that doesn't inspire him so he can build a solid home for his family and send his children to school and have them covered under his company's HMO. Then think of him in a 'town hall' meeting at work, hearing ugly words like 'downsize' and 'restructure.' Now think of his heavy walk into the house he has almost paid for, the painful conversation with the wife he loves, with whom plans for a happy retired life have been made. Think of his dwindled retirement fund, the mortgage he is almost done with but cannot keep up with. You have just conjured up a man who deserves more than that pink slip he was given. You have just conjured up a man this system and all its promise has thoroughly failed.

Here's the thing. Stop the whining, stop the pitchy tweets about your pathetic life. It isn't about you. It's about the choices you make. You don't deserve anything but the chance to work hard and do well. And that is a lot. There are people who don't even have access to these. You deserve whatever you have and wherever you find yourself right now. It's the result of choices you have made. Don't like what you see? Then it's your call, not mine so don't complain to me, or to the weary man trying to fix things for you. Life is tough and whiny people can't cut it.

I suppose I could say it isn't your fault, that society has sold you on this false sense of entitlement you so proudly wear. But I won't do that because unless you are under the age of fifteen, I hold you entirely responsible for yourself and your bloated sense of what you deserve. Unless you can get over that, then you'll never really get far in life. And the short distance you are destined to travel, you'll deserve that too. In fact, that might just be all you do deserve.

Come on Baby, Light My Fire

In the final analysis, there
shall be no regret or remorse;
no spreadsheets, no checks and
balances. In the final
analysis there is only you
and your truths, the good ones
that light you up and the ones
that take you to darkness. In
the final analysis it will not
matter that you were loved

wrong or right, only that you
were loved. More importantly
that you loved with furor and
unflinchingly. And that you
danced with abandon. In the
final analysis your swagger
will only matter as much as
the sweat of your hard-working
brow. How much shit taking
was equaled by walking and

working. In the final analysis
how much you know will make
no difference. Your curiosity,
generosity and how openly you
taught, this is what will count.
What you did with what you
know, how you surprised
yourself, that's what I'm
talking about in the final
analysis. Were you kind, were

you gentle - this won't matter this
won't bear much weight in the
final analysis if none of it was real.
So here we sit, on American Independence
Day halfway through the second year of
the second decade of the 2000's and
in the final analysis the thing
that will be most stoking, most
inspiring, most excruciating is this:
have I lived, really lived?

In the final analysis, have I
embodied myself - the good,
the bad, the ugly of me with full
authority and furor? In the final
analysis the real question is am I on fire?
Does the life force of me burn
a steady flame, or spark bursts
of heat? When I speak, do I light up
inside and maybe  through the room?
Do my eyes gleam with ideas,

do my lips flicker with their words?
When I write, is the hand possessed
by pen kinetic? Do I sizzle?
Does my life stoke me? Tonight
cities will light up in fireworks
and cheer, but in the final
analysis and  in the spirit of real
talking, to be truly free requires
fire. So when the dust settles tonight
do it. Find your fire. And work it, baby.

Made in the Philippines, Born in New York

We had a family home in the north of the Philippines, in the mountains of Baguio. In this home was a master bedroom where my father, his siblings and most likely their cousins honeymooned. Being a honeymoon baby, I suspect I was made in Baguio. The weather is cooler there, the air smells like pine. Baguio was built so the American officers could have a vacation place. There are golf clubs, cottages of western style, they even have an American school there.

Nine months or so after my parents' Baguio honeymoon, I was born in upstate New York on a crisp September day. At least this is how I imagine it. So like most things outsourced, I was made in Asia and managed to be born in the USA.

The Dog Days Are Over

The first part of the year was bittersweet for me.

As an artist, I found a thunderous thread in my voice and this fired up my writing like I have not experienced before. In this thunder I also found community, this formed a bridge through which I made deep connections with my New York family and the reason I am here. And though this has happened to me before, I found myself falling in love again with New York so deeply, I knew she was reminding me I was home.

Tish and Nave at a Brooklyn fund-raiser

As a woman, my partner was faced with a health challenge that has altered my life in ways I am only beginning to understand. It was a tough three-month run for me, and I will never know exactly how tough it was for Navé and how he is having to adjust. The good news is that he has been declared cancer-free, the only mark being a scar to remind him of the grace he has received. As only he would, he is using the experience to inform his artistic purpose, starting with writing a poem a day from the first day after surgery until he gets to 100 poems by July 10th.

The groom flanked by his sisters

Then something beautiful happened. I had to go home for our family's first 'proper' wedding. My baby brother (okay, he is 30 years old and may kill me) got married and I got a new sister.  I got to spend two weeks back in the home of my heart, immersed in the simple and so profound gift of family. I got to hang out with the nephews I am crazy about, and soaked up on all that good stuff only family and long-time friends can give you.

A wedding is always a happy event, and for our family this was a first wedding despite the fact that my brother (the groom) is both the only son and the youngest sibling. I don't really think I'm wired up for the traditional approach to marriage, and when my sister and brother-in-law got married in Barcelona, it was a simple affair and not the 'whole hog' celebration Enrique and Isha were having. So for our family, this was THE wedding. And it was exactly the wedding for this family. Upbeat, young-spirited, very modern and lots of fun. As part of the wedding, the couple had asked the entourage to do a campy flash mobesque dance number to kick in the dancing hours at the reception. He chose a song that speaks to what this second half of 2011 means for me. Not only do I get a new sister, Nave has a 'new' clean slate of health, I start a new job and we have a new apartment in Brooklyn. I also acknowledge what we have gone through and keep it in mind as we dance into the summer sunshiney days and embrace the grace and good times ahead. So sing and dance with me, Nave, Enrique, Isha & Florence and the Machine. For real, the dog days are over!

Left-Leaning

The parts of me that needed attention mostly sat on my left side. My left eye was legally blind and ridiculously astigmatic, my spine curves in such a way that makes my relaxed stance skew left. Even the aberration in one of my female parts lived on the left until it made its surgical exit (did it use stage left or right?). These musings are making my mental DJ conjure Beyoncè and shimmy 'to the left, to the left..'

Does everything about me lean to the left? When at a crossroads or literally an intersection do I always veer left? When I bowl does my striking spin favor left? Does the slant in my cursive face East or West?

Then the sensible question of what does this all matter? The values and principles that guide all our choices sit squarely at the core of who we are and the space we occupy. We are all guided by our individual sense of what True North is, and this is as specific to each of us as the thumbprint. As for me, you probably know where to find me... to quote another fabulous female singer, "if you what me, you can find me left of center If you want me you can find me, left of center off of the strip."

Ink Agimat

With this new semester comes a new chapter in my adventures as an Accidental American. The chapter involves a refinement of the track I tried to get on when I first arrived here, only this time I stomp the track with far more swagger and savvy. And to remind myself to stay true, to not let myself get swallowed by the American (corporate) machine, I armed myself with an ink agimat which I had done while back in the Philippines on a quick vacation. With the help of the inspiring artists at Republic Tatoo, I marked my skin with battlecry, mantra and story, my virgin skin a blank canvas for art to lead so life would follow.

Getting a cherry popped at 40 years-old happens with far more thought and understanding than my memories of my long gone cherry-popping days of youth. I came with a clear understanding of why I wanted the tattoo and what the message was, mainly to myself. And since it is body art which can be shown publicly, I had even thought of the public aspect of how it would work. I wasn't prepared for the magical trip Oman, the artist, and I went on to take the germ of my idea to a place I can righteously call body art.

Fresh ink in front

My brother in-law Paco, adventure, kick-ass photographer and admitted tattoo addict came with me, sweetening the trip even further. This body art-amulet-agimat of ink on my skin sits on the precipice of where I come from and where I am headed. It speaks all the languages of my bloodline and my spirit, taking a Spanish word and rendering it in the visual style of traditonal Filipino tattoo art of our inked warriors from the North, the region my mother's family is from.

I mark my body by saying "Si." Cutting through my heart, I say yes with one part in front, speaking just to me in mirror image and another part on the back, reminder to those who see to say YES to their bliss.

So fresh and still sealed in plastic

Each life tells a story, and everyday is a chance to tell a better story. This Accidental American, this woman of words is enhancing her story with image. I say YES to my heart. My heart says YES. Corporate America look out, this tattooed warrior is coming with her marks and her bliss.

And you know what, I think you're gonna LOVE her.