By the Jal-o River

Angelus in Balete Secularization. That's one of the main reasons why less and less people in Balete notice the bell tolling at dusk. The young ones seem unaware of that practice. I remember well how we abruptly ceased from going to the hook or dribbling the ball when suddenly, Kulas, the sacristan, hidden in his comfort zone at the belfry, started tolling the bells to mark the end of the day. I remember how each of us impatiently prayed that he hurriedly go for the finale, (Common, show off your campanology, Kulas!), so that we could continue to play. Personally, Angelus (read, the silence in between the tolling) reminded me of my other undone obligations (house chores) that each clang sounded like " patay, owa pat ang kasag-ob ", " patay, owa ko pat a hisaburi ro manok " (what a pity that I failed to fetch water...what a pity that I failed to feed the chicken)....Then as Kulas went off pealing those bells, my mind would rush home even as my body stood immo

Emotion. I'm writing or rather trying to write a critical analysis on the theories of emotion by a number of leading psychologists from James to Lange, to Cannon, Freud and Jung and the rest of the behaviorists. Only that even as I tried to start, my mind seemed rusty and allergic to venture into this kind of discipline. Me thinks that I read Faust again. I just wanted to explore the scene when Valentine attempted killing Faust for having taken advantage of his sister. I just want to refresh my mind of the descriptions used by Goethe of the heightened emotions between the two characters that resulted to Faust killing Valentine in the process. These stuffs really put me in reverie of the past events in my life beginning from my early childhood when Balete seemed to be filled with bizarre, if not mysterious phenomena. I remember how the old folks told me stories of aswang and other bad spirits going out of their lair once the bell tolls at 8 in the evening. Fr. Tito subtly discontin

A friend caught me off guard when he asked for my opinion concerning the suicide of former Philippine Armed Forces Chief Angelo Reyes. I did not have one. My hectic schedule was my apparent excuse for that indifference and the seeming lack of opinion about the matter. Deeply, I fear death. I fear anything that is associated with death. Yet, some friends wonder out loud my breakneck habit of fulling my throttle. They say it's bordering to suicidal--which reminds me of Albert Camus and anxiously, of Ernest Hemingway and Vincent Van Gogh. I am really uncomfortable dealing with this kind of theme. I like to imagine myself as Sisyphus carrying my stone uphill again and again despite the seeming absence of meaning of the task. But then again, as Sartre puts it, there is no excuse, there is no exit. Yet Angie Reyes just gave up the freedom of defining himself. Now, he let others define him to their liking. Even then, I refuse to define him myself other than the fact that he gave up his f

I loved the way he did it one Sunday morning. The occasion was solemn as he was addressing a throng of faithful. He was addressing them in English and then all of a sudden, my attention was called when he shifted in perfect Aklanon. Oh, he knows Aklanon! so my mind was being rough at by questions. Who is this man? Sure, he's a popular one, a prominent one at that. But I didn't knew him. I was flattered to hear him use my dialect so perfectly. Oh, dear, he was good. Really good and seemed has the better grasp of my language. He inspired and amused the hearers: Gin-eangoy ko rong suba Gintak-ead ro bukid ..... Leon, tigre akon gin-away Eamang ro imong nawong Makita ko, Inday. ..... I failed to have it memorized perfectly. Ensik's pamaeaybay was quite long and that's all what I can recall. I wonder if somebody has got a copy of the complete poem. As years went by, I got to know him better. In fact, I was lucky to be one of his pontifical servers during the ordination of n

All roads lead to Balete on Monday, February 21. The Municipal Tourism and Development Council is presenting to Baleten-ons of all ages Kultura Balete 2011. It is a simple event to observe the Culture and Arts Awareness Month. It showcases our heritage as a people with our own distinct identity and history. It is an invitation to highlight the memory of our race through various media: Sotis, composo, pamalaybay, crafts--just to name a few. Sotis is kind of folk dance still being practiced by the Benitinanons and the Ilahaynon (those that reside in the upstreams of the Jal-o). It is much like the street dances of the contemporary world that the pair who takes part in it has to be agile, athletic and acrobatic while without compromising grace and artistry. In its factuality, it is not a street dance but a "house dance". Yes, a house dance. It is performed by several couples to test the structural strength on a newly constructed house. Originally, it is part of the pagpangagad

A Baleten-on OFW based in Vancouver, Canada contacted me through Facebook with the report that the Philippine Consulate there was adamant despite her representation of using an incorrect way of spelling Balete. The DFA employee could not be faulted as she was just basing her action on the available databank entry. My kasimanwa was however worried as it will create discrepancies not only on her portfolio but on other Baleten-on overseas foreign workers and expatriates as well. The Sangguniang Bayan therefore acted with haste when its attention was called on the matter. Readily and on a unanimous move, it adopted a resolution addressed to the National Historical Institute to inform the Department of Foreign Affairs of the correct way of spelling the name of our town. Copies of the resolution were also sent to the Philippine Consulate in Vancouver, Canada through proper channel. Then, specifically, it was resolved that such resolution shall also be uploaded in any Baleten-on sites in the

I'm inclined to believe that Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote this poem entitled, Found, although I've not seen it in its printed form. The style and the theme verging on nature and the incidents of life typical of Goethe's works are well manifested in its verses. But I'm not an expert when it comes to Goethe. As a matter of fact, I just stumbled upon the poem one summer afternoon early in my youth as I ventured to trespass into my sister's room. That was the first time I heard of him then. The poem was set on the headboard of her bed, as if enthroned like my mother's Bible on our altar. The poem, handwritten on a piece of board paper by her future husband as a gift for the Valentine's day, had my usual forgetful mind remembers it vividly: FOUND I walked in the woods all by myself to seek nothing, that was on my mind. I saw in the shade a little flower stand, bright like the stars like beautiful eyes. I wanted to pluck it but it said sweetly: Is is to

Juan dela Cruz is popularly known to us Filipinos as a farmer wearing salakot (native hat made of bamboo thatches), tsinelas (slippers, not Havaianas , of course), barong tagalog and pantalon. A patient and unassuming man, he stands as epitome of the ordinary Filipino. Yes, Juan dela Cruz is the typical Filipino. And many mothers and fathers named their sons after his namesake. Wally Gonzales and Pepe Smith even called their band, Juan dela Cruz Band , to give it a tone of patriotism and to identify with everything that the personification of Juan carries with. But many Filipinos know not that indeed there was a great man and a lover at that by the name of Juan dela Cruz . The young ones are really ignorant and the old oblivious that there was a time when mothers and fathers wished their sons emulate the virtues of that man. He was a small man by stature yet his love for the Beloved is great. Hereunder, let me share one of his great poems for the young and restless to appreciate: SONG

" You have wounded my heart with your Word, and from that moment on, I love you. " Augustine is just as ordinary as we are. He was a parochial boy who made his way into the metropolis and grabbed certain popularity as a rhetorician and a teacher in some respected institution. As a farm boy, he was notorious for raiding fruit trees in the neighborhood--not for want of food to eat though but for the fun of it and the excitement of watching swines gobbled those pears. As a young man, he was unabashed in expressing his appreciation for beauty and admiration of great curves. He was almost trapped when he sired a son, but he lacked a sense of humor to enter into a one-way contract. His heart was restless--too restless to be caged into such carnal relationship. But he did not ran. He faced the consequences of his lust and set himself to be a good father to his Adeodatus (god-given). And of course, as a bonus, he continued to indulge himself to bodily pleasures. Yet his heart was re

John Boyle O'Reilly was having a dilemma which rose to choose, much like those Don Juans and Cassanovas wishing of having two or more hearts to have. But O'Reilley's dilemma is not about having extras. He was trying to grasp an idea that was regarded as almost outlandish in his time. He may have heard of an Austrian (some says he's of a German-Czech race) Augustinian Friar experimenting on plant hybridization in some monastery in Brunn. However he may have arrived at the idea, he was subtle enough to convey a lover's passion tempered by pure love in his poem, A White Rose. A White Rose The red rose whispers of passion And the white rose breathes of love, O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips, For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips. Today's rose lovers enjoy not on

I find it easy associating this pen&ink study of a nude and that poem, Your Grief, as well as that watercolor study of a rosebud in handmade paper with Yanni's Almost A Whisper piano arrangement.   Logic has defied me of the reasons why. Perhaps the gaps can be bridged if I take the leap from rationality into the realm of the unknowing. YOUR GRIEF Your bulging eyelids Tell me that your pillow was again atop your face last night providing a perfect cover suppressing the sobs absorbing the tears concealing the pains of life lest your sister-roommate suspects As you went about the business of the day you face the world with a Mona Lisa smile more than a perfect cover an enigmatic façade of a young beauteous professional concealing the scarred and confused heart lest those green-eyed officemates find out. But your grief is a story a silent ear can hear. It is a song a loving heart can echo or a picture a caring hand can paint. Your sad eyes Tell

(The following is an excerpts from my study on local history entitled, Understanding Balete, an unpublished material, which I'm currently updating due to recent findings.) The later decades of the 19th century saw the rise of nationalism in the whole archipelago. Historians ( Constantino and Zaide for instance) claimed that the martyrdom of Catholic priests Frs. Mariano Gomez, Jose Burgos and Jacinto Zamora served to awaken the dormant spirit of Filipino nationalism. Rizal himself a martyr, recognized the significance of this tragic event and thereby dedicated his second novel El Filibusterismo to those illustrious priests. This growing consciousness for a Filipino nation is best exemplified when Bonifacio together with his friends organized the Katipunan on July 7, 1892. The manner of growth and the rapid spread of this secret society are but indications of this collective desire for freedom. In the Aklan region, Iban and Del Castillo met no difficulty in recruiting for members