Jim Paredes's Blog, page 26

Making every moment a shot at eternity

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts. From William Shakespeare's As You Like It

Theater is the filling up of time and space," my teacher Rolando Tinio declared, discussing an activity he loved in its most simple form. The stage is the space and what you do on it your every movement, every word spoken, every silence and pause, every emotion is played out in a span of time by the performers. This is a great description of theater and performance, and it may well be an apt metaphor for life itself.

The space is the world we live in, including the geographic and emotional locations we find ourselves in as we show up for everyday life. And time is, well, our entire lifespan. Perhaps the main difference between theater and life is proportion. A great theatrical performance where time and space are filled up majestically with a great story and a convincing dramatic depiction may seem "bigger than life" as the expression goes, but it will always be dwarfed by the largeness of real life playing out. An average lifetime, after all, is longer than a two- to three-hour performance and is "performed" in multiple locations. And everyday life, though not as packed with dramatic content every two hours or so, surely has its share of drama that we take part in and generate.

Then there is also the script. In theater, it is vital for a performer to know the script and relate to it on various levels to be able to give a decent performance. In real life, there is a starting script that you inherit your personal circumstances that are your givens parents, race, nationality, economic and social status, religion, genes and physical characteristics, etc. At any time, you have the choice to follow this script or dump it and create a new one as you go.

Life is an open-ended performance where you are the scriptwriter, director, actor and if you develop enough of an interior life, you may also be the audience and critic/reviewer all rolled into one.

When life seems aimless or when I am bored or stuck between life's stages, levels, journeys or meanings, I worry about how time is slipping away. Look at old picture albums, or hang out with classmates you've known forever, or listen to retro music and you will understand what I mean. What were once new, current, young and fresh are now rendered quaint, old, irrelevant and useless by time.

As the years go by, I notice how short life really is. Years can pass almost with the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it could all be over.

I recently had a conversation with an old friend whom I had always known to be super active. He liked to travel, go diving in the ocean, sky dive, climb mountains and engage the great outdoors. He sucked the marrow of life's adventures, so to speak. He was, after all, a former Green Beret, the elite corps of the US military. He was one of those guys that is tough, trained to do anything and everything, and he did. The last time we talked was years ago. Now 72, he has slowed down a bit due to health problems.

When I asked him if he still went diving, he looked at me and said that he has pretty much lost his appetite for such physical activities. I know he is still physically fit to do them, though on a more moderate basis, but he said it was a case of "been there, done that." He is done. The thrill has gone.

While I am far from wanting a limited engagement with life, I can relate to my friend's need to prioritize what he would like to do with his time. After all, at 72, he has less time to do it all. If he cannot totally plan his life and choose only worthwhile activities, he can make sure that everything he does is a meaningful pursuit and not a waste of time. And he can do this by being present and paying attention to whatever is going on around him.

Now, more than ever, I give greater thought and sincere responses to questions about life's meaning, the true relevance of activities and issues that come up in everyday life, the value of the people I meet, and questions that matter outside the field of space and time. This mindset opens an avenue so wide it makes living exciting. The onset of age and its diminishing prospects, especially time-wise, can open us up to the possibility that the greater part of our being may be its link to the timeless and borderless, or the eternal.

If you seek meaning in what you do, choose your activities and link them to values, causes and truths that will outlive you. Those actions will constitute time well spent on life's stage. Time and effort such as do not only defines and depicts a life well-lived while performing on life's transient stage, it defies time itself as the greatness of your life lingers long after your performance has ended.

It is making every moment a shot at eternity. When one's life's performance has ended, people will still be talking about how extraordinary it was.

Tomorrow has come

http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=790592&publicationSubCategoryId=449

Our modern day heroes need healing and compassion

Jim Paredes

I recently met with Ms. Kay Bunagan and Ms. Teddi Dizon, two young

psychologists with the Ugat Foundation, an NGO that helps families in

the grassroots deal with psychological problems. They wanted to get me

interested in something they are very passionate about: Project Leap

Year,  a mission to help our OFWs cope with the psychological problems

they go through because they are away from their home, loved ones and

country.

Try to imagine being an OFW in, say, Italy where Kay and Teddi and

their group of psychologists currently operate. Let's get into the

mind of someone who has left everything familiar and important in the

hope of earning enough money to keep his loved ones alive. In the name

of love, one turns his back on everything that spells 'home' and lives

and works in an alien culture away from the people whom he loves and

who sustain him. It is hard to miss the cruel twist of fate here.

There are countless hardships and sacrifices OFWs encounter. The

feeling of alienation living in a strange culture, and learning a new

language and customs are just some of the tough situations they face.

Add the disempowering feeling of being denigrated to the task of doing

lowly menial jobs even if they have college degrees and professional

experience in the Philippines. That does something quite devastating

to a person psychologically. There is also the extreme loneliness in

being far away from the reach and touch of loved ones.

There are a lot of things OFWs and their families go through. There

are the unintended and unpredictable changes in the family dynamics.

OFWs miss out on birthdays, weddings, graduations, baptisms, house

blessings, anniversaries, Christmas, Easter and other family bonding

moments. They are also not there for the less dramatic but equally

important moments like family dinners and simple family time with the

spouse and kids. Children in turn grow up without one or sometimes

both parents, missing out on the parental love and guidance they need.

They are raised by surrogate parents like ates, kuyas, lolo, lola,

aunties, uncles or whoever is the adult they are assigned to.

All these surely take a toll on family life. The situation is bound to

cause some kind of resentment on the part of the children. As time

goes by, the unusual situation loses its novelty but not its

unintentional negative consequences. Family life settles into

something less than what it once was. The formerly richly nuanced

relationships are reduced to something more like a simple financial

arrangement. One parent works abroad while the spouse and children

left behind spend the money.

The effect of all this on the OFW's psyche can be quite a burden. He

can suffer a kind of  psychological fragmentation. In his mind, the

family members are somewhat unrealistically 'frozen' in time, and he

lives with an idealized impression of the kind of people his children

or his spouse really are or have become. There is a gaping hole in his

understanding of the reality of what has happened to the family. He

has after all missed out on much of their lives, and vice-versa.

Kay and Teddi point out that many OFWs are in denial and even

delusional about their situations, and that of their loved ones. Their

capacity to earn money and send it home has superseded all other

responsibilities and concerns.  It has become the justification for

everything. And it is easy to understand how this has come to be.

Kay told me about an OFW woman enrolled in the therapy they offer who

had stayed in Italy for many years. She was finally able to bring over

a daughter she hardly knew, only to discover that they were both

alienated from each other. Her daughter was not only a stranger but

harbored so much resentment towards her mother for having 'abandoned'

her. As part of the woman's therapy, she had to vent all her bad

feelings by writing down everything she had gone through and

sacrificed as an OFW. Since she was not computer literate, she asked

her daughter to type the document for her. It was only then that her

daughter realized what it took for her mother to 'raise' her

financially until they could be reunited.

The Leap Year Project, so named since it was started only this year,

offers psychological workshops, interventions that deal with the

fragmentation and 'compartmentalization' OFWs suffer in the hope that

they can be whole and empowered enough to reconnect with themselves,

and eventually their loved ones and their community. And the great

thing is, according to Kay and Teddi, the Leap Year Project is

remarkably effective. OFWs who go through the workshop not only heal

but also pick up skills that help them help others in the community.

In effect, it is a great service to our modern day 'heroes' who most

need it.

It takes a lot of resources to keep this going. The cost of airline

tickets alone is a big drain on meager resources. Kay and Teddi's team

of four psychologists would like to get more of their colleagues

involved to deliver this service to other OFW communities in other

countries. The workshops demand that the psychologists stay a month at

a time to make sure that the process is thorough, even if they hardly

receive any compensation for it.

I am writing to urge you, dear reader, to help this compassionate

effort in any way. Aside from financial contributions, they also need

volunteer staff, videographers, editors and even participants who can

help them raise funds by joining the workshops they offer.

To inquire how to help, please call 4265992 or email ugat@admu.edu.ph.

The way to help our OFWs is to help them restore a true sense of

authenticity in their lives, and their relationship with themselves,

their loved ones and their own Filipino-ness.

#  #  #

Last Basic Photography Workshop  until May. Sign up now and learn how to use that DSLR to make sure your summer photos are great.

When: March 24

Where: 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC.

What time: 1 to 6:30 p.m.

How much : P3,920 VAT inclusive.

Call Ollie at 0916-8554303, 426-5375 or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.comfor inquiries and reservations.

–

Shooting a thousand words

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated March 11, 2012 12:00 AM

In my sixth year as a columnist for the Philippine STAR, I realize that I've written about an entire gamut of topics such as God, spirituality, technology, the future, people, teaching, music, passion – you name it, I've done it. Except for one topic that I spend an inordinate time on and I am very passionate about it. I have barely written about photography.

Over the years, I have done countless photography workshops around the Philippines, in Sydney and Melbourne, Los Angeles, and soon, I will give one in Singapore. I teach the basics, and even a few advanced topics such as glamour photography, and the art of the nude. And I have been a judge in many photography club contests around Metro Manila.

On an obvious level, it is understandable why I have not written about photography, which is all about pictures. Why write about it when I can just show the photos I have taken. And I do share my photos in different websites; I have had two solo exhibits and have participated in joint ones.

But when I put on my writer's cap, I realize there is much in photography to write about. For one thing, never in the history of man have so many people suddenly had the capability to take pictures with simple and high-end cameras, cell phones and gadgets that probably have more capabilities than the cameras used by the masters only some 30 years ago. Sometimes, I kid about this and say that everyone on earth is turning Japanese. I used to laugh at how many Japanese carried cameras as standard equipment for every day living and how they would take pictures of anything, including the food they are about to eat. My wife and daughters, I have noticed, also do this very same thing today. Every facet of life must now be documented in pictures.

Today, there is an abundance of cameras in the hands of people with the corresponding deluge of photos they post online for everyone to see. This makes me resigned over the lack of aesthetics in most of these snapshots. Many are underexposed, overexposed and quite lacking in basic presentation values. Look at social media and be underwhelmed by the ho-hum slices of their lives that people post in tons of dreary pictures.

I always start my photography classes by defining photography as the art of using light to tell stories. With the camera, one captures and manipulates the light available (or unavailable) to give a narrative that aims to move the audience in some way. One takes pictures to evoke delight, surprise, shock, disgust, fear, joy, laughter, awe, sensuality, mystery and other feelings within. In my book, if a photo does not do that, it is not worth keeping or posting.

How does one evoke emotion and feeling in a photograph? Do objects already evoke these feelings by themselves and all we need to do is capture them? Or do we actually give the spin to what we see and capture it as such? Good questions.

To me, good photography is about making a visual narrative, however short, of what we are looking at. For example, before capturing the image of a building, a photographer must ask him or herself what it is about the building that he or she wishes to convey. And the way to do that is to attach an adjective to what one is looking at. Instead of just a building, the photographer may want to take a picture of an "imposing" building, or a "busy" building, or even a "sorry looking" one. With an adjective in mind and using the buttons on the camera, one can come up with an evocative photo that will impact on the beholder.

It is amazing what one can do with the few tools available in a camera. With the adjustment of speed, aperture opening, ISO and White Balance alone, a photographer can use an infinite combination of settings and apply these to a subject to create different pictures around a narrative. Throw in angle and framing and the options practically double. These tools are pretty basic. Using my background in music, I call them the 'do-re-mi' of photography.

I started taking pictures during that charming era long ago when people still used something called film. At the time, every shot I took cost me money, even before the film could be developed and the pictures printed. Compared to today, we took only a few pictures. And we had to wait a few days before we could see the photos since we had to have the film processed in a lab. Every shot therefore was given some thought, arranged properly and shot with the right settings to make sure it would be a lucky one.

I remember doing shoots for magazines using my Mamiya medium format camera and being given only four to six rolls of film (with only 10 shots per roll) for the cover and inside photos. I took the shots with great concentration and focus, and then fretted till I saw the final outcome a few days later. The activity had to be done with careful calculation and an eye out for detail, and, of course, knowledge of my equipment.

Camera manufacturers are constantly upgrading and giving their products newer and wider capabilities that can tantalize a photography enthusiast or professional. And each time a new camera model is released with ever better bells and whistles, I am so tempted to part with some of my wealth just to own one.

But great pictures are captured by people, not by cameras. One can have a great camera and totally miss out on what is right before him. But a person with a visual story to tell can work the subject to do what he wants it to, and say what he wants to say, even with a simple point and shoot camera.

Sometimes, when I have a physical need to take pictures, I go out and look for scenery, or call people and ask them to pose for me in my little studio setup at home. Luckily, I have a group of friends in Sydney who I go with on occasional out-of-town trips to capture the breathtaking sceneries that Australia has to offer.

A passion is something that feeds one's soul and must be allowed to express itself. To me, shooting the moment is like choosing the right notes in making music, or the right words or thoughts in writing a poem, short story, novel or essay. It is gazing at the physical world, taking delight in it, and preserving a moment of zen insight into an image!

* * *

Last Basic Photography Workshop runs until May. Sign up now and learn how to use that DSLR to make sure your summer photos are great.

When: March 24

Where: 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC.

What time: 1 to 6:30 p.m.

How much : P3,920 VAT inclusive.

Call Ollie at 0916-8554303, 426-5375 or write me at jpfotojim@gmail.comfor inquiries and reservations.

Paul McCartney bought a BenCab for P70 in the ’60s (and other stories at the BenCab Museum)

My visit to Baguio last week was a pleasant shocker. After dozens of visits to the summer capital in my lifetime, I thought I had seen everything this charming destination could offer, until I went with Sydney friends Edd Aragon and Menchie Maneze to the BenCab Museum along Kilometer 6 in Asin, Tuba.

National Artist Ben Cabrera — the BenCab himself — greeted us at the gate, and after taking some photos by the museum entrance, we went in. I was immediately charmed upon entering the lobby where large art pieces greeted us and I knew this was going to be a special treat to my artistic senses.

The museum building is multi-level, made of glass and steel. To view all the exhibits, one must take the stairs four floors down. On the top and bottom platforms are viewing decks decorated with sculptures and outdoor paintings, and a breathtaking view of the entire property.

In full panorama are thousands of trees on a steeply slanted hill that is at least a couple hundred feet tall. Between the museum and the hill is a valley of streams, lily ponds and pathways that lead to large gardens and hidden delights such as waterfalls, orchards, fishponds, small gardens and little Igorot huts scattered throughout the property. Strewn randomly but artfully about the huge property are carvings in stone, wood and petrified rock and lots of bonsai. Within this magical kingdom are also the studio and living areas of the artist himself.

We were lucky to have been accompanied on our tour by BenCab himself. He knew every detail of the place by heart. He described every tree planted, every patch of land beautified, in a continuing conversation from the time we arrived, through lunch, and until we left the premises four hours later.

I gathered that it had been BenCab’s dream to build a site like this for sometime. Walking with him around his property, I realized that, in this case, the artist was a creator in the grandest sense of the word. He has not only created artworks that have delighted his international audience, he has also created entire landscapes, environments, ecologies and mindscapes — worlds, if you will — in this generous sprawl of nature.

It was a special delight listening to BenCab, who allowed us into his creative universe pointing out his art pieces and giving us the background of each. He spoke intimately about the paintings and sculptures, including those that were not his own creations. Bulol statues that occupy an entire wall, ancient Igorot wooden pieces — bags, rice containers, harvest vessels, etc. — displayed in a huge room are really impressive.

A valuable bit of trivia I learned from the artist himself is that Paul McCartney actually bought one of his paintings in Ermita when the Beatles played Manila in the ‘60s. Sir Paul paid P70 for it. The sale transpired while the artist had stepped out of his gallery. To Bencab’s dismay, no one in the gallery had taken a picture or even had thought of asking for an autograph from the famous buyer. Years later, when BenCab wanted to include the sold artwork in a book he published in London, he wrote to McCartney who acknowledged he still had the painting and even sent a photo. The title of the work is “Fishing in Sexmoan.”

A friend who had visited BenCab’s museum a few months ago described it as “world-class.” I would have to agree. It isn’t just a nice or impressive place for Baguio or the Philippines, it is comparable to great museums we have visited in other parts of the world, such as the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, for example.

There was a small but steady stream of visitors when we were there who, like us, were enjoying the exhibits, the outdoors and the café. Once in a while, BenCab would gamely pose with them for pictures or autograph a museum flier. Marveling at BenCab’s capacity to create something as maddeningly beautiful as this, I realized that not everyone shared my appreciation of the place. I am hoping that local officials see the value of the great art and heroic effort in an investment of this magnitude that honors, propagates and preserves man’s higher longings.

A few tax beaks would certainly encourage more investments in fine and worthy projects like the BenCab Museum that uplift our sensibilities, instead of the crass materialism of golf courses, theme parks, malls and parking lots.

* * *

For the first time, I am offering an Advanced Photo Workshop on March 10, 2012. This will be in a location where we will shoot under different sets of lighting conditions with a model. For details, e-mail jpfotojim@gmail.com or call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.

View to a thrill: The breathtaking view from the top floor of the museum.

View previous articles from this author | Subscribe to this author via RSS

Paul McCartney bought a BenCab for P70 in the '60s (and other stories at the BenCab Museum)

My visit to Baguio last week was a pleasant shocker. After dozens of visits to the summer capital in my lifetime, I thought I had seen everything this charming destination could offer, until I went with Sydney friends Edd Aragon and Menchie Maneze to the BenCab Museum along Kilometer 6 in Asin, Tuba.

National Artist Ben Cabrera — the BenCab himself — greeted us at the gate, and after taking some photos by the museum entrance, we went in. I was immediately charmed upon entering the lobby where large art pieces greeted us and I knew this was going to be a special treat to my artistic senses.

The museum building is multi-level, made of glass and steel. To view all the exhibits, one must take the stairs four floors down. On the top and bottom platforms are viewing decks decorated with sculptures and outdoor paintings, and a breathtaking view of the entire property.

In full panorama are thousands of trees on a steeply slanted hill that is at least a couple hundred feet tall. Between the museum and the hill is a valley of streams, lily ponds and pathways that lead to large gardens and hidden delights such as waterfalls, orchards, fishponds, small gardens and little Igorot huts scattered throughout the property. Strewn randomly but artfully about the huge property are carvings in stone, wood and petrified rock and lots of bonsai. Within this magical kingdom are also the studio and living areas of the artist himself.

We were lucky to have been accompanied on our tour by BenCab himself. He knew every detail of the place by heart. He described every tree planted, every patch of land beautified, in a continuing conversation from the time we arrived, through lunch, and until we left the premises four hours later.

I gathered that it had been BenCab's dream to build a site like this for sometime. Walking with him around his property, I realized that, in this case, the artist was a creator in the grandest sense of the word. He has not only created artworks that have delighted his international audience, he has also created entire landscapes, environments, ecologies and mindscapes — worlds, if you will — in this generous sprawl of nature.

It was a special delight listening to BenCab, who allowed us into his creative universe pointing out his art pieces and giving us the background of each. He spoke intimately about the paintings and sculptures, including those that were not his own creations. Bulol statues that occupy an entire wall, ancient Igorot wooden pieces — bags, rice containers, harvest vessels, etc. — displayed in a huge room are really impressive.

A valuable bit of trivia I learned from the artist himself is that Paul McCartney actually bought one of his paintings in Ermita when the Beatles played Manila in the '60s. Sir Paul paid P70 for it. The sale transpired while the artist had stepped out of his gallery. To Bencab's dismay, no one in the gallery had taken a picture or even had thought of asking for an autograph from the famous buyer. Years later, when BenCab wanted to include the sold artwork in a book he published in London, he wrote to McCartney who acknowledged he still had the painting and even sent a photo. The title of the work is "Fishing in Sexmoan."

A friend who had visited BenCab's museum a few months ago described it as "world-class." I would have to agree. It isn't just a nice or impressive place for Baguio or the Philippines, it is comparable to great museums we have visited in other parts of the world, such as the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, for example.

There was a small but steady stream of visitors when we were there who, like us, were enjoying the exhibits, the outdoors and the café. Once in a while, BenCab would gamely pose with them for pictures or autograph a museum flier. Marveling at BenCab's capacity to create something as maddeningly beautiful as this, I realized that not everyone shared my appreciation of the place. I am hoping that local officials see the value of the great art and heroic effort in an investment of this magnitude that honors, propagates and preserves man's higher longings.

A few tax beaks would certainly encourage more investments in fine and worthy projects like the BenCab Museum that uplift our sensibilities, instead of the crass materialism of golf courses, theme parks, malls and parking lots.

* * *

For the first time, I am offering an Advanced Photo Workshop on March 10, 2012. This will be in a location where we will shoot under different sets of lighting conditions with a model. For details, e-mail jpfotojim@gmail.com or call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.

View to a thrill: The breathtaking view from the top floor of the museum.

View previous articles from this author | Subscribe to this author via RSS

Family stories

Humming in my Universe Philstar.com

By Jim Paredes

Last weekend, I spent time at my brother's Batangas beach house with most of my siblings. Two, who are US based came home to attend class reunions and it was a good reason to get together and talk about old times, our current situations, and just about everything and everyone.

It's amazing how years spent apart are instantly bridged by memories and shared histories. We talked about our relatives who had passed away, the narratives their lives took and the color they added to our family heritage. There were heroic exploits, noble deeds, principled stands and interesting twists and turns in their lives. And then there were the peccadillos and the full-blown scandals surrounding some of our elders.

We must have gotten tired of retelling the good things our elders did since we have recounted them so many times in the past, because last weekend, we spent much time discussing their indiscretions. Each of us shared what we knew about certain incidents concerning certain relatives, surprising and shocking some of us who were hearing some of the stories for the first time (though admittedly with great relish).

We realized that the primary sources of family stories were mostly our mother and some uncles and aunts. However, they never told any of us the complete narratives. The stories were parsed, the details spread out among us, perhaps unintentionally. If it was intentional, I do not know what made them do it. One sister, for example, would know the general story of an indiscretion but another would know the juicier details.

Listening to the sordid and torrid goings-on that some of our relatives were involved in, I somehow felt a strange sense of comfort, more than shock. It was actually a relief to know that behind the larger-than-life principled acts they did for personal or family honor or for country and people, were human beings with human frailties. It somehow makes me feel better about my own imperfections and weaknesses. Perhaps, my last comforting insight is that my family is like many other families in the sense that it is capable of great deeds as well as despicable ones. Thank God, we are not special.

It is always educational and enriching to look at one's family history and see one's relatives in the contexts in which they lived. On my mother's side, there was a strong moral impulse to reject immorality and corruption. My grandfather was the most beloved prison director Muntinlupa ever had. He did not just discipline criminals, he rehabilitated them. My grandmother's roots were in the rebellious Basque region in Spain. She was a strong-headed and very moral woman who passed the tests of faith, love and charity when the situations presented themselves. I see these traits in my mom and my siblings.

On my father's side, my grandfather was an Ilokano lawyer who was a man of the world, open-minded and more understanding of a person's weaknesses. My grandmother was a homebody who doted on their children and grandchildren. Although my mom's side was not more morally upright than my dad's family, they set a higher bar for themselves and so were also more strict and unforgiving of themselves when they failed.

There were both the heroes and scoundrels on both sides of my family. But hero or scoundrel, they were mostly lovable. Maybe I am casting a sympathetic eye on them because they are my relatives. But really, for a large part of them, the balance is tilted in their favor because of their redeeming qualities such as compassion, a true sense of charity, intellectual probity, a strong sense of social justice, and courage.

When I look at the lives of the people I love, I take into account what Carl Jung said that every person has a dark side. His basic message is that every man casts a shadow, and the greater the man, the bigger the shadow. It is foolish and naïve to expect people to live lives of perfection. The so-called perfect person, the one without a shadow, is probably a one-dimensional, uninteresting and soul-less being, a caricature, or a stock character. And I even doubt he or she really exists.

We are all capable of good and evil deeds. And there is not one of any of us who comes from a so-called "pure" source. Thomas Jefferson, one of the drafters of the US Constitution which guaranteed the rights of every person, was himself a slave owner. Contradiction exists in every man and woman.

Shakespeare, in his play "Julius Caesar", had Brutus speak these words upon the death of Caesar: 'The evil that men do live after them. The good is oft interred with their bones." I often wonder about this. On some days, I fear it is true. But from our family stories where good and bad deeds are re-told objectively, almost matter-of-factly, I know it is not.

In a cynical but funny and true way, the novelist Kendall Hailey wrote, 'The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you."

To the members of my large clan who have gone before me, what will determine the perspective I will take when I look at my family history, or any person or event for that matter, is whether I have the capacity to go beyond judging simplistically, unlike the wooden one-dimensional shadow-less people Jung described. But that shouldn't be that difficult because I am getting more and more accepting of my own shadow as I learn more and more about my relatives. And I thank God there isn't a relative I know of who was and is not real enough to share not just his or her light but also his or her shadow with the rest of us.

###

For the first time, I am offering an Advanced Photo Workshop on March 10, 2012. This will be in a location where we will shoot under different sets of lighting conditions with a model. For details, Email jpfotojim@gmail.com or call 4265375 or 09168554303 to reserve.

Downsizing

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated February 19, 2012

People my age are currently going through what is called the empty nest syndrome where one by one, our children are opting to move out of the family home and going on their own. It's the cycle of life, I suppose. It's what we also did when we came of age.

Strangely enough, one of the things that parents whose children move out to live on their own actually think about is the exact same thing their kids want to do: they, too, want to move out. They think of downsizing their lives into something smaller and more manageable. While their children want to discover the bigger world, us parents want to miniaturize ours. A smaller place like a condo or a townhouse is what many have in mind. For some, it is a move to the province or a small home in places outside of Metro Manila like Tagaytay, or Quezon or Laguna.

All of a sudden, the comfortable family house has become too big for just two people. Where once the corridors, the dining area, the big sala and the spacious kitchen were the scenes of family bonding and happy moments, they now seem lonely and empty, devoid of the laughter and happy voices of the kids. The big happy house is slowly but surely being abandoned.

My wife Lydia has entertained the thought of downsizing but I am not too keen on it yet. Maybe it's because, despite the absence of my children for the most part of the year (since two of them live in Australia and the one in Manila is moving out), this big, spacious, happy house continues to get its share of visitors. This is where my side of the family holds many of its loud, boisterous and fun dinners, after-dinner meetings, sudden gatherings that start during lunch and continue till things just wind down on their own, usually late into the afternoon.

In this house is also where I hold my photography, creativity and songwriting workshops. Here is where I receive visitors, work and conduct meetings so it is still a busy house for the most part. I also like that it is quite spacious and empty since a lot of the furniture has been shipped to Australia. Sometimes, the sparse furnishings seem to float around the house. There are still many things here for sure, like many types of tables and chairs, cushioned sofas, picture frames, some antique pieces, two pianos (one of which was once owned by Juan Luna's wife, and the other by the songwriter Willy Cruz). There are also little mementos — abubots and figurines, bells, cups, statuettes and other souvenirs bought from different tiangges here and abroad that grab the attention of visitors who have an eye for detail.

Even if the house sorely misses the sound of laughter and life from two of my children who lived here for most of their lives, it still seems to be a living organism which sustains its life through the visitors and activities that find their way here.

Admittedly, despite the house's relatively young age, the "ancestral home," as my kids like to call it, has some vibrancy to it. But there are many things in it that need to be thrown away. Typhoon Ondoy, which affected us slightly with mild flooding, made spring cleaning mandatory, and sooner than we had planned. Boxes of pictures, letters, documents, old and rare vinyl records were destroyed by water and had to be thrown away. In the process, more stuff which was stacked in areas of the house that had been left untouched and unexamined for sometime was also uncovered and deemed fit for the trash bin. And the truth is, there is a lot more that needs to be thrown out.

There is that feeling of a desecration of memory when one throws away things. And I am not in any way close to being a hoarder by any definition. But getting rid of stuff can seem like closing one's eyes and simply jettisoning things out of one's life — objects that were once loved and even held sacred and are now treated as worthless junk. I ask myself many times what the conscious criteria should be in deciding what stays and what goes. And often, the answer is utilitarian. The useful stays and the useless goes. My son told me once to be ruthless in getting rid of things. If something has been in a box for years and you've never missed it, it must go!

But like all rules, there are exceptions. The gray area where many things that would have been condemned to the wastebasket find a new lease in life is whether these have been thoroughly appreciated or examined, or whether they were objects which were acquired but never opened, used or even looked at since. If they fall in this category, they are set aside for further evaluation.

Zen practice tells us that one must empty the mind to see clearly. It is logical as well to say that one must make way for new things and ideas by letting go of old stuff and paradigms.

The big house downsizes to the more humble abode fit for two people to live in. As the years go by, people learn to live with less stuff. That's what happens when couples downsize. For parents who are empty nesters, there is also the slowly diminishing need to control our children's lives. More and more, we leave them to make their own decisions, which is just as well since parents are now just occasionally consulted anyway.

As I sit and have my meals on my long dining table in the sprawling screened veranda, often with just my grandchild Ananda, or alone, I am happy to be accompanied by the ceiling light installation above, and the furniture that has served my family since way back. I am the man of the house, the gentleman of the manor, the king of the castle, and as I survey everything within my domain, I feel a sense of peace and accomplishment.

Where others may feel lonely because they are alone, I feel a sense of fulfillment knowing that my once little children have become adults. Soon this house will have only Lydia and me and the remaining household help for its occupants.

While this house has lost many of its occupants, it has hopefully not seen the end of happy moments that will be shared in its rooms and living areas by those left behind and the people who visit. A good sign is that Lydia still wants to do some remodeling, repainting and a minor makeover of some areas.

Downsizing does not have to mean living smaller lives. When we downsize, we can enjoy the new spaces available to live even more expanded lives.

The right to sing 'My Way'

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated February 12, 2012 12:00 AM

When we speak of "quality of life," we generally mean the well-being of individuals and societies. There are so-called standards of living brought about through hard work and prosperity that rich societies like to brag about.

This is well and good and societies should strive to attain some freedom from many of the challenges human beings need to overcome to achieve a so-called "decent life." That includes freedom from starvation, ignorance, unemployment, lack of opportunity, etc. Essentially, it is freedom from want.

I have visited many countries where the people's basic needs and wants are more than fulfilled, yet there seems to be much unhappiness or meaninglessness in the lives of their citizens.

I have been pondering over this lately. Granted that physical needs have been met, what makes one person seem to be more put together, more a person of substance and meaning, than another who remains vapid, shallow and generally discontented with life?

I am referring here to the quality of life of people I have met. Some are rich and some are poor but in the end, it hardly matters what their status in life is. It's not about how materialistically or ascetically they have lived their lives; it is more about how much marrow they have sucked out of their lives to nourish their existence.

This is an essay for those who have lived their lives fully and well and, may I say half-jokingly, have earned the right to sing the song My Way. The fact that all the people I refer to here are still alive is perhaps because they wouldn't be so careless as to sing this song in a karaoke bar. The following are some of what they've been through that have made their lives rich, and kept their cups full.

1. To desire something or someone so badly and not get it, but to live long enough to talk about it without the pain of loss or disappointment.

2. To dream, to have ambition and to fulfill it.

3. To do foolish things — spend a fortune, face danger, maybe even challenge a rival — for the glory of winning a loved one.

4. To discover something that is burningly true for you, and perhaps for you alone.

5. To decide to do something you truly believe in that goes against your parents' wishes or society's norms and stick to it despite the extreme pressure to conform.

6. To have had a teacher, a mentor or someone older who opened your eyes and changed you and set you on a path that greatly defined who you have eventually become.

7. To have risked possibly being on the side of error and still doing what you thought needed to be done, rather than not doing anything and remaining safe in your comfort zone.

8. To discover an author you learned a lot from and to read every book he/she has written.

9. To come to terms with a God that you may or may not have grown up with but, more importantly, to believe in a God whose wonder and unfathomable quality have grown in you as you matured.

10. To have fallen into a deep rut — financially, psychologically, spiritually — and picked yourself up.

11. To have tasted forbidden pleasures in moderate doses, and even thanked life and God such "poisons" existed.

12. To have loved someone so completely as to lose your ego-identity and become one with the other, and perhaps even with everything.

13. To have engaged in and continued to develop at least five things that you are passionate about.

14. To experience aloneness and be at peace with it without feeling loneliness. In fact, it brings you to a state of contentment.

15. To have experienced not just the ecstasy of love but also the ordeal of commitment and stayed there long enough to enjoy its gifts and pleasures.

16. To feel that the sum of your life means something not just to yourself but also to others.

17. To have turned your back on something so temptingly pleasurable or materially rewarding, or something that would have given you much prestige, for the simple reason that you knew, deep down, there was something dishonest or wrong about it, and so it wasn't the right thing to say yes to.

18. To try with all of your might and strength to be true to someone, to some ideal or commitment.

19. To be able to see people beyond their stature in life, their money or their reputation.

20. To experience great fear and dread and still go on doing what needs to be done or what you set out to do.

21. To have continued on a path (career, love, etc.) even if sometimes it seemed like a blur and you weren't sure what was up ahead.

22. To have been on the wrong side and being big enough to admit it and move on with life gracefully.

23. To have forgiven those who have hurt you, and most importantly yourself, for whatever you have done.

24. To feel a shared belonging to a community of people, an extended family, society or nation, and a deep connection with all of humanity.

25. To pass on to others many of the good things you have learned or even the things that you possess.

26. To be able to enjoy the little things as well as the big things.

27. To have friends who you would die for and who would do the same for you.

28. To have developed daily habits that strengthen your sense of integrity.

29. To have both loved and lost, and loved and gained.

30. To have a keen sense of proportion and appropriateness in deciding which things are important and trivial, and which are not worth your time.

These are some of the things I have heard from older, accomplished and evolved people I have met. There must be many more that we can all learn from. Looking at this list alone, I am not sure if I have completely earned the right to sing My Way and dodge a bullet. But if I live to see another day, I will work on it.

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Last Call

1) Basic Photography classes on Saturday, Feb. 18, from 1 to 6:30 p.m. Cost is P3,920. Venue is at 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC. Call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.

2) Songwriting Workshop on Sunday, Feb. 19, from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Learn the basics and actually write songs during the session. Very hands-on! Student must play the guitar or the piano. Venue is at 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC. Call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.

The way they were, the way they are

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes (The Philippine Star) Updated February 05, 2012 12:00 AM

It seems to happen every semester.

These past years, since I started teaching, I have had the privilege of interacting with many young people and I hear many of them say how fun, exciting and romantic the '70s, which is the decade of my generation's youth, must have been. Every time I teach a module on the origins of OPM in the '70s and the milieu and mood of the times then — the protests, the drugs, the challenging of authority, the political underground, religion, sex taboos, etc. — I sense a longing in my audience. They seem to look at my generation's formative years as a time when people were more alive, and challenged.

Sometimes, I wonder if I over-romanticize the era in the telling. But the truth is, those were really heady days when it seemed like a big chunk of life as our parents knew it was undergoing massive outer and inner transformations.

Physically, my generation looked different from our parents. Aside from the fact that we seemed taller, perhaps because of the better nutrition we had, men wore their hair longer, and attempted to grow beards and mustaches. And we wore psychedelic clothes, spoke a different language, and embraced ideals and morals that shocked our parents and teachers.

The women were also less Maria Clara and more Mary Travers (of Peter, Paul and Mary) or Sampaguita — more openly expressive in showing affection, more daring and hip in dress, rebellious, sexually liberated, loud — certainly shocking in the eyes of the older generation.

Kids today are riveted by narratives from the bygone '70s era, stories of my generation's attempts at making original music that became the soundtrack of Filipino lives, and the life-and-death adventures of the college kids who dropped out of school and society to join the underground movement against the Marcos dictatorship. Heady times they were, indeed.

The romance of it all is attractive to many kids today perhaps because the reckless spirit, the call and the response to ideals that my generation took on, make our era seem more "far out" than their era today. Whereas today, much of life seems safe, predictable, easy and measurable, my generation lived in more difficult times, where nothing was predictable and no outcomes were assured. We had no cell phones, iPads, laptops, Wikipedia, geo-tagging, or even the MRT. Ours was an analogue, linear world. We had the telephone, for example, that took years to apply for and if and when you got one, a "party line" went with it. People met and planned their appointments, dates, meetings, parties, etc. by using the telephone or writing letters sent by mail. Social media was unheard of. Even beepers came only a decade and a half later. Yet we accomplished a lot, with remarkable efficiency.

We drove our cars without seatbelts, consumed many things as we were growing up that are now considered toxic, smoked, and had no idea whether some of us had ADD, ADHD, Asperger's condition or whatever else we know today about learning disabilities.

While kids today are fascinated by life in the '70s, I am ecstatic over many things about our current modern (or postmodern) life. I love the technologies available to practically everyone — from cell phones, Internet, e-mail, FB, Twitter, instant communication, Google Maps, air travel and access to digital archives from practically everywhere, to many great thinkers, intellectuals, leaders and famous people through the net. I also love how quickly the flow of ideas from one part of the world can influence another part. People can also now migrate or travel to places that seemed inaccessible before.

This is the world our kids today were born into. It is life as they know it. And they may in fact even be bored with it. The speed of life today may find them with shorter attention spans and an appetite for ever greater stimulation. But for a '70s guy like me, this is the second big wave I am experiencing in my lifetime. The '70s opened the world to a lot of changes. And now, this!

Every age has its challenges and opportunities and it is incumbent upon the current generation to take them on. Perhaps every age seems more exciting, romantic or wonderful than it really was when seen in hindsight. But as John F. Kennedy said in a speech during his equally challenging decade, the '60s, "We would like to live as we once lived but history will not allow it." The reason why I am feeling the way I do is probably because I have the advantage of hindsight. There is the present to compare the past with. In time, the kids today will probably feel as excited about their time, too.

This generation will one day give way to another and they will talk animatedly about "their" time when they invented rap, ecstasy, meth, social networking, planking, "occupy Wall street," laptops, YouTube, smart phones and other stuff as they brandish artifacts and ideas from their "bygone" era. And the younger generation will marvel in disbelief at how boldly innovative and cutting-edge their parents lived their lives.

But one thing that ties all these generations together is man's eternal yearning to feel alive. And this means living in a way where one is engaged fully with the life and the times one is in. Fashion, lifestyles and morals may change but the quest to make a mark on the world, to matter and touch other people's lives, and to feel awake to one's own existence is perennial.

If the '70s were our heady days, this early 21st century, for the present generation, will someday be remembered and reminisced gloriously as "the way they were."

I know this era, regardless of its generation's seeming boredom and indifference with it, will someday be romanticized about and retold with exciting narratives, and future generations will also gawk at and be inspired by them.

* * *

1) Basic Photography classes on Saturday, Feb. 18, from 1 to 6:30 p.m. Cost is P3,920. Venue is at 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC. Call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.

2) Songwriting Workshop on Sunday, Feb. 19, from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Learn the basics and actually write songs during the session. Very hands-on! Student must play the guitar or the piano. Venue is at 113 B. Gonzales, Loyola Heights, QC. Call 426-5375 or 0916-8554303 to reserve.