marginally subversive

One year ago...

One year ago, a great woman passed on. She saw through the hardships of the Second World War and lost her husband. Single-handedly, she raised her six children. She brought them up to become good parents to their own children. She saw to it that her grandchildren knew the value of being of service to others, of contributing, of simply being there for others. In silence, she said, there is strength - veiled, but still there.

She was my grandmother.

It has been a year since we said goodbye to her. She was in her 90s.

A lot of people said that she's lived a full life and that we shouldn't worry too much because she is now in a better place.

I concur.

But I still cannot help but miss her.

When she picked me up from school at 12 when I was in grade 1, how she would sit on her rocking chair listening to my travails on the piano, how she would encourage (read: force ;D) me to go to church at 8am on Sundays...

I never managed to say goodbye.

And until now, I still cannot say that word. Because she is still in my heart. And in my memories.

When things are rough, I think of what she would say.

"Just go on; God will find a way."

"There is a reason why you're in that situation - either you chose to be in there or God put you there for a reason. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Just do what you're supposed to do."

"Don't spend too much money on things that are not important. And besides, money isn't everything."

Last time I went home to see her, I bought her a necklace - a nice one and a far cry from the rosaries that I would buy her at the monastery of Sta. Clara. She declined; keep it, she said. Save the money, she said.

Before Alzheimers got her, she would badger me about getting married and having someone to take care of me. Because "when I am gone, who is going to wake you up on Sundays so you can go to church at 8am?"

I always replied, "there's always the alarm clock" - to which she would answer "pilosopo..."

Then we lost her to Alzheimers.

Conversations on the phone became rare. My visits, even rarer.

Then she was gone.

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

Dear Mamang -

I still miss you. I am so sorry I wasn't there to see you go. I wasn't there to play you a song on the piano. Remember that Pamulinawen that you usually sang along with? Or that Manang Biday? or Vizcaya's Song?

I miss you so, so much.

I wish I were still in grade one. You'd always pick me up, buy me stuff, bring me to school, help sew my buttons on my white shirt...

I wish I were still that young boy playing beside your sewing machine whilst you see curtains, dresses and other stuff for the house.

I wish I were still that young boy who you'd scold when I'd spend all my allowance for the week in one day.

You will always be in my heart.

You rest now.

We'll see you again.

I love you.

Agyamanak, Mang. Haan ka nga malimutan. Haan ka nga pabayaan. Haan ka nga maawan itoy panunot ko. Uray pay awanak itta balay, itta Solano, adittoy ka - ittoy pusok.

Agyamanak, Mang.

Jun

in memoriam

My grandmother, Reginalda Candido-Valloyas, passed away on Sunday night.

She was 95; she died peacefully in her sleep.  She was a great woman who in spite of the challenges of the Japanese occupation dealt on our family, made sure that the family was well-taken care of.  She helped build not only a clan that saw the rise of entrepreneurs, thinkers, and social servants - she also made sure that we knew each other and were there for each other.

She will be greatly missed, specially by me.

She raised me up and insisted on picking me up to school even if I were already in Grade 3 because "I want to make sure you're safe".  I remember her waiting patiently as I took my piano lessons up to 5 or 6 in the evening and how she would tell me to constantly pray because "God always knows better than you".  Or "smuggling" non-cafeteria food over the gates because I hated cafeteria food on Mondays.

She believed in me - and that made all the difference.

She believed - in spite of not having mastered the piano nor any other musical instrument - that I was destined to be a great musician and pianist. 

She would sit beside the piano on her favorite rocking chairwhilst I learn Moonlight Sonata, Fur Elise, and the Flight of the Bumblebee (that she said was "horrible; change it..." [I wasn't sure if she was referring to either me changing my style or the piece itself;I decided to drop it, haha.).  She was the first to hear all my compositions and my playfulness on the piano - my first 'judge', my first 'critic', the first to say 'I like that - play it again" until I myself would be too tired of my own work. 

(I never learned how to put them in notes... they are probably gone - but hopefully, not from her memories).

She pushed me to the limit - believing that limits are nothing but concepts and beliefs.  She constantly asked, "So what are you going to do about it?  You're better than you think you are - so go look for a
solution."

When I got into fights in school, she would be the first to rush to the principal's office to complain and face the parents of the bullies - even if sometimes, it was my fault.  And if it were my fault, I would never hear the end of it.

She never, ever raised her hand nor her voice.  She would speak to me gently and rationally - treating me like an adult in spite of being a rebellious teenager. 

When I left the province to pursue my university degree in Manila, I know that she cried but she didn't show it.  She just said, that day, "Take care - and pray.  Do your best.  But you don't have to always win against others.  Just do your best."

And in the same breath, she said "I just can't believe you grown so fast."

The last time I went home - and when she has not yet succumbed to Alzheimer's - she said, "Don't forget your Nanay (Mom) and Tatay (Dad) no matter where you get to.  Don't forget your sisters and your

nephews.  Don't forget me."  I said yes and I promised her that I wouldn't. 

Then she said, "If I die, I am going to miss you all."

Well, I guess she misses our family. 

And we miss her, too. 

I miss her.  And oh my, how I miss her.

She's a good woman.  A great grandmother.  My inspiration.  My pillar.  The wind beneath my wings.  The woman who contributed so much of herself that I can be what I can be - even when I myself doubted so much of me.

She will always be remembered.

And in my heart, her name will always be there.

"Agyamanak, Mamang.  Haan ka nga pabayaan.  Maturog kan.  Haan kayo ag-worry.  We're going to be fine."

Death is nothing at all.  It does not count. 
I have only slipped away into the next room. 
Nothing has happened.  Everything remains exactly as it was. 
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.  Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. 
Call me by the old familiar name.  Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.  Put no difference in your tone.  Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.  Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.  Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. 
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. 
Life means all that it ever meant.  It is the same as it ever was.  There is absolute and unbroken continuity. 
What is this death but a negligent accident?  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. 

All is well.

Henry Scott Holland

who's your superhero?

One of Seth Godin's latest entries - What's your superpower? - reminded me of something.  Not so much about my superpower - but of the impact that others' superpowers have had on me.

(Just in case you're wondering: I am Phil - I uncover stories behind numbers and make sense out of data so you can make a better decision.)

Mr. Godin's entry came at a time when I also unearthed from the morass inside my room a bookmark from one of the magazines that I patronize.  It asks "Who is your superhero?"

I guess it's pure coincidence.

But it got me thinking:  Some of the superheroes in my lives have led very quiet lives - but in spite of that - or perhaps, even because of that - they had made an impact in my life.

The first superheroine is my music teacher, Ms. Regina Batarao.  When I was in fifth grade, she encouraged me to take up music and play the organ during masses.  I am not sure now if that was her ploy of actually getting me into church every Sunday and Thursday - but it did work.  I can't say that I am more religious because of her 'tactic' - but I can say my ears are more 'sensitive'.  I learned - through her - the art of the oido: listening to a song over and over again, looking for the chord-combinations (what I call the "musical skeleton"), reconstructing the notes, and then putting those notes on a music paper with the right notation and beats.

I never got to mastering it - I was very impatient with listening to the notes for the left-hand.  But every time I hear a song on the radio, my brain whirs and I get to identify the "musical skeleton" of the song after its first chorus/refrain.  By the end of the song, I can visualize the notes in my head - and I know that if I wanted to, I can most likely reconstruct the right-hand notes for the song.

I am grateful to her for this gift and encouragement.  And for that, she is my superheroine.

The second superheroine in my life is my Religion teacher, Ms. Lily Magadan.  I was a 3rd year high school student when I met her.  She was my guitar teacher.  At the end of each day, she would gather 10 to 12 of us inside the music room or in the empty church, and get us to play the guitar.  The first lesson - "Yellow Bird".  We had to master the strumming.  I never was good, though - and early on, I knew that I was not going to be any good.  I gave up.

But she did teach me something else:  How to question my beliefs - and how to believe in something or someone that reason or science cannot explain.

She taught us - in her religion class - how to read the Bible, critique it, use a concordance, and 'contextualize' it.  She asked us questions about "Why do you think this was written this way?  What are the historical facts behind these?  What would the interpretations be from a historical perspective?  And what is your interpretation?  If you put faith back in, how would you reinterpret it?"

A lot of us were scared of her.  But she taught us how to read, how to contextualize things, how to question - not just religion.

Both of them encouraged me to get into the Ateneo de Manila University - and forget about being in the State University because "you need a Jesuit education - that's where you will grow the most".

They were right.

In my life, my university days have been filled with challenges - I was stretched academically, physically (darn those PE classes and volleyball!), emotionally (raging hormones, hello!), and spiritually (philosophy of religion?).

Both of them are my heroes.

What's their superpowers?

I guess if you'd meet Ms. Magadan right now, this is what she'd say: "Hi, I am Lily.  I inspire people to reach their fullest potentials and reach for the skies, whilst keeping their feet on the ground."

And Ms. Batarao would probably say, "Hi, I am Regie.  I teach people how to listen - really listen - to what is being said, to what is not being said... and be open."

They both passed away several years ago.  And I never had the chance to tell them they were - and still are - my heroes.

I know this entry won't do whatever they have contributed to my life justice.

But their names?  Engraved in my heart.  And in my soul.

In gold.

lenten season

My sister just reminded me that it's the Christian Lenten Season. I won't say that I am a devout Catholic - but Lent and Easter are to me the most important seasons of the church calendar.

For me, Lent is all about humility and acceptance that we are human. And Easter is all about the 'shouting on top of the world' that we are - indeed - human!

I know. It baffles me sometimes too - my beliefs, I mean.

What I learned from school...

Seth Godin asks in his blog what school is for. 

Seems like a simple question, but given how much time and money we spend on it, it has a wide range of answers, many unexplored, some contradictory. I have a few thoughts about education, how we use it to market ourselves and compete, and I realized that without a common place to start, it's hard to figure out what to do.

He writes down a starter list of what a school ought to be in his entry - and I think all is good, though surely, there could be more what a school is for.

What a school's purpose is for me?  I guess I never really thought about it - but what i learned from school, all four levels of them (kindergarten, elementary, high-school, university) could point me to what school is about.

Photo from my_new_winter_coat

So what are the things I learned from school?

1. I learned that there are some things I could do on my own - like tie my shoelaces, solve problems in algebra and calculus, read and analyze the works of Gabriel Marcel and Immanuel Kant - and there are things that I couldn't do on my own - like understanding firsthand the dynamics of groups and social psychology, understanding what partial derivatives are and how I can visualize them, and how to explain in lay-person terms the philosophy of Socrates and of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.
2. I learned that there are classes that one could take for granted - 'military training', where we spent all day marching around and being 'abused' by our 'superiors' for having the wrong haircut - and those that one should take seriously - philosophy, theology, biology, mathematics.
3. I also learned that teachers are human, too - and they can make mistakes.  However, the greatest teachers I have had are those who had the gumption and the courage to say "I honestly don't know" and "That's one way of putting it - and I see your point".  And they'd get back to you with a rebuttal - or further questions and thoughts - the day after.  (In other words, they took the time to have a look at your viewpoint and considered it!)
4. I learned that teachers who give their students "A's" way before the classes start and the exams are filed and papers were read and graded are the ones who get remembered.
   I had a teacher in Uni who saw in me the potential of being a "lawyer-doctor".  He told me on the final day of class that I would make a good lawyer-doctor, and I said, "I can't even decide what to be, sir!"  And he said, "Trust me - you'd be a good lawyer and a good doctor.  You'd do good."  And right before me, he wrote my final grade on that 'official form': an "A".
   I certainly believed I didn't deserve an "A".
   And he said, as I was on my way out, "Believe in yourself - I see the lawyer-doctor in you.  Try to see that in you as well.  You might find it - you might not.  It doesn't matter.  Just see for yourself."
   He was my favorite teacher (who gave me a hard time on my final oral exams in Anatomy).
5. I learned that friends do come and go.  And whether they go and disappear from my life - or whether they stay on as I grow old - is within my realm of choice. 
   I still hear of friends who see themselves every year or every month.  They are the ones I used to hang out with. 
   I don't see much of them anymore.  Because I have made a choice to live my life away from home - not a good nor a bad choice, just that I made a choice.  And it's all good.
6. The worst times brings out the best - or the worst - in people.
   While working on my theses with two of my closest friends - Tanya and George - the best in me soared.  I discovered theories and techniques that were not common or that were not being taught in the university curriculum.  I spent nights and days in the library doing the research  - and validating all the stuff I got.  That was the good side - and it was all because of the desire to hurdle that thing called a thesis.
   The thesis also brought out the worst in me: I almost got into a fist-fight with George.  And for one whole week - during that crucial one-week before the analysis of the data - I didn't speak with either George or Tanya.
   That was the worst in me.
7. "Education" does not just happen in the classrooms.  And the teachers, lecturers, and professors are not just the ones teaching.  We were all students of one another - classmates, friends, peers, barkadas, study groups, professors...  And in one way or another, we teach each other about things academic and of life.
8. I am - and we all are - the sum-total of the education that we received.
   If someone were to ask me what were the most important courses I took in college, I wouldn't be able to say with conviction which ones would they be.  I'd probably say Philosophy of Man (or Metaphysics, as they call it now, I think), Philosophy of Religion, Theology of Liberation, and my core Psychology classes.
   But then again, Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy taught me about shining through in the darkest of hours.  Zoology taught me the beauty of life.  Botany opened my eyes not just to dicots and monocots - but to the order that there was in nature.  Chemistry - both lectures and lab sessions - opened my eyes to the beauty of structures and disciplined approaches.  Computing sciences furthered that.  Calculus and linear algebra taught me to respect the numbers - and psychology taught me to go beyond the numbers.
   I really can't say.

Photo from m00by

Am I better person because of the education that I received?  I think so.  Had I been through something different, would I still be who I am now?  I don't know.  And I guess, I wouldn't know.

All I know is that what I am now - however I may be - is because of the education that I received.  And how I learned to learn.

fear as a motivator?

There is no doubt that fear could be a motivator. 

Risk management - as a discipline - is a founded on "fear" and the attempts to measure and manage things that contribute to fear - and profit from it.  Probability and statistical sciences are also founded on fear - the fear of the unknown, the fear - and expectation - of the plausible.

However, when managers use fear as a motivator, things go awry.

A friend of mine succinctly summarized it for me in one of our conversations:  You can't scare someone to follow you - you can only inspire them.

Proposition 8 is not about politics, is not about fighting, is not about anything else...

Proposition 8 is about having simply a respect for another.  A simple recognition, a simple acknowledgment that the Other - he or she that is not you - that the Other is human - as human as you, as human as I am, and as deserving as we both are for the most basic of rights: to realize our possibilities.

Slavery wasn't merely about physical servitude.  Tyranny and dictatorships are not simply about amassing wealth.  Rape is not merely a physical assault on another.  Pedophilia is not just about the abuse of young kids.

It is about the lack of respect for the other - and the denial of another's humanity.

And it all starts with simply respecting the other.  Considering the Other to be as human, as boundless, as worthy as you.

Many will argue that the Bible says so - and it is the Word of God.  Man, Constantine decided which books are supposedly going to be in the Bible - and he may sure may have been inspired by God and the Holy Spirit. But the historical context surrounding him paint a different picture: He chose because he needed to reign. 

And how limiting would it be for God's words to be contained only in one book, translated and passed along?  Isn't His/Her Revelation still happening now?  When you look at the sun, when you look at the sunset, when you feel the wind, when a drop of perspiration trickles down your forehead - isn't that a Revelation of God, too?  Of His/Her Magnificence?

And didn't Christ of the Bible rewrite the rules:  "Do unto others as you would want others do unto you.  Love one another - and love your enemies"?

It all boils down to a simple thing: RESPECT THE HUMANITY IN THE OTHER.  It's as simple as that.

"el mas famoso" - or simply writing...

(The entry otherwise known as "Why I blog")

Blogging has been an interesting journey for me.  It somehow clears my thinking - and sometimes, whilst writing, I catch some illogicalities in my thinking.  (Although most of the time, I catch these illogicalities when I re-read and review my blog.)

At first, I thought blogging would be a way to become famous - to be "el mas famoso!" is not an entirely bad objective specially in a crowded marketplace such as my field.  But I realized that I was not really writing for anyone else but me.

It's for me to express my thoughts - to get them out of my system - and perhaps, instigate a conversation with someone who may or may not disagree.  A self-serving purpose, still - which I believe is neither good nor bad.  It is still a personal call - a personal goal - a personal blog.

And no, I probabyl won't hit my "el mas famoso" goal, but it is not so important as the power to express myself in ways that only I can do.

Seth Godin wrote about it today on his blog:

Who cares that you're not writing a mass market newspaper? The point is not to show up on a list, the point is to start a conversation that spreads, to share ideas and to chronicle your thinking. That's the work of an author, and I think rather than kissing author blogs goodbye, someone should just start a new list.

(Emphases mine)

Quiet Leadership

there is beauty in just quietly leading - leading myself, leading others.

i have been told that i am too quiet - too polite - too shy - too non-aggressive.  but i am not about to shout to the whole world how great i am or how great my opinions are or how wonderful things are inside my head.  quiet strength.  quiet leadership.  a silent pillar that can be relied on.

 

i have also been told that i am one who is happily stuck in the middle.  that i am happy to be "not in the line of fire" and just be a "support role" in the lives of others - in the careers of others.

the funny thing is, i am comfortable with that.  not that i don't want to be "in the line of fire" - when called to be there, i am there. 

in fact, i have been there.  it's a nice place to be in - the excitement, the exhilaration of every win, and the pain of every defeat and loss.

but what i am saying is this: i am happy wherever i am called to be in.

for now, I am called to be a pillar so another can rise up.  I am called to be a wind beneath somebody else's wing.  and that is fine.

the glory is never mine - it is God's. and all i do is manifest His Glory through my humble being.

a quiet leadership.  a quiet stronghold. a quiet fortress.

perhaps just living up to the Chinese name that I have given myself years ago: Li An.  Quiet strength.

Why Gen-X'ers are not feeling the love...

I am a 30something gen-x'er.  I entered the workplace when the world was so excited about the internet - and computers and Windows.  Then the tech-boom  - and the subsequent bubble - came.  Suddenly, things were not so good as they were supposed to be.

Gen-X'ers I believe are far more controlling - far more independent and far more of a gamesman and a gameswoman than the "corporate, yes men and women" that the boomers were.  We challenged the status quo - asked questions - and never really got answers.

Some of us had given up - and were assimilated by the big companies and borgs.  Some of us are still struggling with the challenges of being independent.  Some of us are still straddling between being our own person - and a corporate executive Monday to Friday - that sometimes we are scared of change - and yet clamor for change.

And the balance - that darn balance between work and personal life - is still out there somewhere.

Argh.

In this article from Tammy Erickson, there are ten reasons why Gen-X'ers are not entirely feeling the love - in spite of companies needing our expertise.

One thing that Erickson does not mention - that I think should be there in the list of reasons why Gen-X'ers are not feeling the love - is because we're too fed up with hypocrisy.  It's no fault of the companies - it is perhaps the result of the system that we are in.

We hear of companies that are saying "our number one resource is our people - and our employees are our talent" - to the point that they set up talent management divisions, team-building and skill-enhancing projects, and on-job/classroom style training.

Only to be discarded and disregarded at the lower levels of the management rung.

Let's be honest: Gen-X'ers wanted to change the world.  We wanted the world to be a different place from our parents.  When Gen-X'ers came to be, we were on the verge of a technological and sociological mindshift - that suddenly stopped and we all stumbled.

We still want to change the world - but we've been stymied and and we've seen through the facade and the hyprocrisy of companies that say "we value you" - words that do not get translated to real actions and policies that affect us personally.

We've dreamt so much of a better world - and we've been disillusioned once.  We've tried to straddle several aspects of our lives - hoping that one of these - or ALL of these - will coalesce into one big whole that will be different from the lives that our parents and older siblings have led.

But still, we're not being heard.

Come on.  Give us some credit.

And to my fellow Gen-X'ers... it still is not over.  There is still an opportunity to change the world - and make it all different for us and our families.  We may not be the most tech-savvy and most digitally-savvy generation there is (hey, boomers don't even know how to program their VCRs and have given up; at least we tried - and we kept on trying until we got it right).  But we surely have the guts to get through this again.

We've gone through a lot.  And we can go through more.  A lot more.