Pandoraspace

There is a scene from the movie, Memoirs of a Geisha, where the main character, Sayuri, who is clad in her beautiful kimono, stands under a cherry tree. As the wind blows, the cherry blossoms from the tree float in the air like snow. From the time I saw that scene, I promised myself that, one of these days, I would visit Japan to see the cherry blossoms.

More than the cherry blossoms, I also wanted to visit a dear friend in Japan. Once of these days, when I have permission to write about him, I will tell you all about this person who has known me since I was four years old and of the extraordinary life he lives.

I had hoped to visit Japan in April of this year. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond anyone’s control, a visit to Japan was not possible.

Since then, thoughts of my dear friend, cherry blossoms and Japan have been lost in the myriad of things I had to attend to at work and at home.

A few days ago, I had a mountain of paperwork to accomplish and family responsibilities to attend to. I was stressed and out of sorts. I had gone home ready to drop on my bed when I noticed a brown envelop on my dresser. The envelope was addressed to me but it did not indicate who had sent the package. To my surprise, the envelope contained a book, Cherry Blossoms of Kyoto, with photographs by Hidehiko Mizuno, Kayu Mizuno and Yasutaka Ogawa. It is a beautiful book and I felt very happy to receive it. I was even happier when I learned that my dear friend, who has been having many troubles of his own, remembered my cherry blossom obsession.

Perhaps someday soon I will see my dear friend and the cherry blossoms…

Not too long ago, I learned that Uncle G (not his real name) stayed in Indonesia for extended periods of time.  Since he is a chef and a gourmand, I asked Uncle G to recommend to me several restaurants that LS and I could try while there and he provided me with a long list of restaurants.  Although we only tried one restaurant on that long list, I was consciously taking mental notes of the food I tried in Indonesia so I could tell Uncle G all about it.  

As I was writing my letters to Uncle G on my Indonesian food trip, I decided that I should also share the letters with you since you may find them useful on your Indonesian trip.  In the next few days, I’ll be posting my letters to Uncle G.

An introduction to Balinism

While in Bali, LS coerced me into going to Pura Tanah Lot with her.  When I asked her what Pura Tanah Lot was, she said that it was a temple by the sea.  When I asked her whether it was a Hindu temple, LS told me that it was a Balinese temple and the Balinese people have their own religion, which was something of a mix of Hinduism and animism. 

I was intrigued.  I never knew there was such a religion as Balinism.   Thus, when I came across a book called Bali Chronicles by Willard A. Hanna, I immediately bought it.  In one of the chapters, Hanna tries to describe Balinism and he said this about it:

“In Bali, there is no creed, no dogma, no scripture, no conviction about salvation or damnation by reason of any metaphysical doctrine.  But there is an immense deposit of mystical and spiritual manifestations which the villagers constantly re-experience in daily life, always aware of the living presence in nature of the ancestral and divine spirits.  Under the guidance of the priests who plan the temples and conduct the temple ceremonies, these manifestations assume substance and names and significance.  This arrangement proves philosophically gratifying to the learned and symbolically satisfying to the unlettered.  And there is a rigid code of conduct which conditions every contact between human beings or between men and immortals.”  (Hanna, Bali Chronicles, p. 241 (c 2004).)

While Hanna’s description of Balinism is all the information I have about it, I do know that this system of belief has had a profound impact on the Balinese people who are gentle folk with a peaceful (almost spiritual) demeanor and who show great respect for life, people and  the world around them.

Sutopo’s heart beats for Prambanan

Without a doubt, scholars have done extensive studies on the architecture and religious significance of Prambanan. I know because I read some of the accounts prepared by those scholars.  I find, however, that the best account about Prambanan is that of Sutopo, who is by no means a learned scholar. Sutopo was our guide at Prambanan. He is a Muslim who lived all his life in and around the premises of Prambanan. While he may not have read scholarly accounts about Prambanan, he certainly supplied us with accurate information about it. More than that, his account contained something  missing in those scholarly accounts. That something is a heart that beats for Prambanan.

LS and I barely slept the night before our 6:00 a.m. flight to Jogjakarta. As soon as our plane landed, Danang took two sleep-deprived girls to Prambanan. We got there at 7:30 a.m. and were introduced to Sutopo in the receiving area, which was some distance from the temple complex. At that point, I was dreading the long walk to the temples on a hot day and wondering how soon the tour would end so I could get some shut-eye at our hotel.  Surprisingly, Sutopo later managed to stimulate my senses by introducing us to his beloved Prambanan.

(more…)

My friend Danang

I no longer remember what I said or did that prompted Padma to tell me that she made many Muslim friends in Indonesia and that they are wonderful people.  I had no Muslim friends then and no way of knowing whether what she said was true. So, I did not give the matter much thought until now as I remember my friend, Danang Purnomo. 

Danang is my first Muslim friend.  He is more than a decade younger than me.  Danang is a college student who does part time work as a tourist guide in Jogjakarta, the place where he lived all his life.  As a favor to his friend who knew our hosts in Jakarta and without knowing who we were, Danang agreed to “babysit” LS and I in Jogjakarta.  I use the word “babysit” because I somehow got the impression that Danang thought he would be looking after very young tourists. Of course, LS is young.  I am past young and I would rather think of myself as a traveller rather than a tourist.  As soon as we got the age issue sorted out, I think Danang was momentarily relieved that he would not have to exert much effort in the babysitting department.  Of course, Danang’s relief lasted only until I decided to do some marathon Batik shopping.  But, this is a story for another post.       (more…)

Bellur Krishnamachar Sundararaja Iyengar

On living Yoga, Bellur Krishnamachar Sundararaja (B.K.S.) Iyengar says “When I practice, I am a philosopher. When I teach, I am a scientist. When I demonstrate, I am an artist.”

B.K.S. Iyengar is Guruji.  He is also a person who developed a means by which Yoga could be taught in a scientific manner that allows ordinary people like me to get into, and sustain, the asanas (poses). Although Guruji has never taught me Yoga, and probably never will, learning Yoga from people he had nurtured makes me believe that Guruji had so much consideration for his students. He recognized that each person has his or her own strengths, weakness and limitations. Through the guidance of Guruji, my Yoga teachers are able to determine when to push me further and when to be compassionate. The recognition by BKS Iyengar of the needs of each student of Yoga and his apparent and sincere desire to help us achieve the benefits of Yoga is what endears me to this practice.

On Mirador by Horacio dela Costa SJ

On the Meaning of Mirador, Fr. Horacio dela Costa SJ writes, and I quote:

This house is called Mirador: Prospect Point.

There have been four stages of its life.

It began as a meteorological observatory, with Jesuit scientists puttering about measuring rainfalls, observing winds, recording the shiverings of the earth, quietly, patiently opening windows into the secret heart of the physical universe.

Then it became a villa house, where Jesuit teachers - in the happy days before summer schools- rested from the labors of the year.  They played ball.  They prayed to God.  They read books and argued about them endlessly, opening the world of ideas and the world of men.

After the Pacific War, when mainland China was closed to the Gospel, this House became a scholasticate, a house of studies for the young Jesuits of the Far east Province.  In these rooms, along these corridors, they followed the progress of Christianity from Pentect to Paul VI, opening windows into the life and meaning of the Church.

Today, Mirador has acquired other uses.  It is no longer a scholasticate; but is still a villa house for Jesuits; and the Manila Observatory still keeps some of its instruments ticking away on this hill.  Groups of priests, religious, lay people come here for retreats.  Conferences are held by bishops, scholars, student leaders, journalists, businessmen.  Men and women who want time to think, time to reflect on what they are, what they must be or do come here, to this quite hill beneath a quiet heaven; to reflect, to pray to observe the signs or our troubled, yet immensely hopeful, times; to open windows to even broader horizons.

And so, Mirador is still what it was in the beginning: an observatory, a point of vantage.  And if this house could speak, perhaps this is what it would say to you:  Look out of my windows and try to extend your vision beyond the Gulf of Lingayen to all of Asia.  Tey to make out more clearly what God’s plan for all these people is, and for all those - like yourself - seek nothing else but to be of service to man.

Man - the glory of God.

Miracles happen in Mirador

Mirador is the Jesuit retreat house in Baguio located at the summit of a hill. One way of getting there is to climb the steps that lead to the Grotto of the Virgin Mary. Many many many years ago, I spent eight silent days at Mirador. Although I have no talent for drawing, I miraculously produced this one - 

My friend Wayne Tkel SJ is in the drawing. Spot him if you can.

I was in high school when I first heard Eartha Kitt sing the Filipino song Waray-Waray. I laughed when I heard it .  Then, I was amazed when my parents told me that Eartha was not Filipino. Eartha sang the song like she had spoken Filipino all her life and understood the meaning of the song.

I had forgotten about Eartha until Neil Gaiman mentioned Eartha’s obituary in his journal.   I never even knew that Eartha had died.  Since the obituary did such a good job of describing Eartha’s life, I will say no more about her except to say that you should read Eartha’s obituary and click on this to hear her sing.

I heard on the news today that the trial of Kaing Guek Eav, otherwise known as Duch, began yesterday. Duch was the prison chief of Toul Sleng or S-21 and he is being charged with crimes against humanity.  As I was trying to learn more about the trial, I came across this, this and  this.  I am now interested in reading Nic Dunlop’s book about Duch called the Lost Executioner.  It seems like an interesting read.

I did not notice any picture of Duch displayed in Toul Sleng. I suppose it is inappropriate and disrespectfully to the victims to display the picture of the suspected torturer in Toul Sleng.  I have likewise never seen Duch  until I saw his picture on this website.  Just by looking at him, you would never imagine that Duch is capable of leading people, children in particular, in torturing and killing the prisoners of Toul Sleng. But, then again, people capable of atrocities would not look any different from us.

Assuming (I say assuming because all are innocent until proven guilty) Duch is guilty of the crimes he is accused of committing, I wonder how it is possible for him to sleep at night knowing people suffered and died under his hands.  I am greatly disturbed that people, myself included, are capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty.  How does one become so cruel is a question I have constantly asked myself since visiting Toul Sleng.  I am hoping the answer will teach me be compassionate and to never let myself be the source of other people’s suffering.