Rituals for everyday enchantment and earth healing

The exchange of letters between friends, who may be siblings from lifetimes ago or maybe just fellow travelers in this life, has been most intense, interesting and educational (for this newbie in all things my child's mind cannot fully grasp).

While I struggled with some issues, some dealing with personal health, some with a fleeting sense of helplessness over how one can be of use and of help in the relief and rehab efforts after ST Yolanda's massive destruction, I received by serendity this ancient prayer-ritual researched by the poet Auggusta de Almeidda, always Chikki to me.

This prayer-ritual was formulated from decades of search/research into ancient, pre-Hispanic spirituality, paralleling Chikki's own spiritual path-seeking. I had asked her permission, and she had given it, if I could use this prayer ritual for the recent Baguio Writers Group's "Journey to Self: A Creative Journal Workshop" at the ICM House of Prayer. This workshop, co-facilitated by Merci Javier Dulawan, Baboo Mondoñedo and this typist, will be echoed elsewhere in the next year.

It closed a busy Saturday, post-Yolanda, when the survivors/orphans of Yolanda, and we all count ourselves among them, needed to pause, to ask forgiveness from Gaia the Mother who has been acting up in ways that continue to befuddle "head" persons (scientists, civil society, especially climate change activists, jaded media people alongside spin doctors, politicians, political analysts, believers in the materialist philosophy discourse).

But many spiritual seekers, even Chikki in her sick bed, remain calm and aren't surprised anymore by what is unfolding for and in this country that sits right smack on the Ring of Fire.

I will stop here before I get into a spirited argument on why the universe, the Source, the One allows for strong quakes, tsunamis, super typhoons that have the intensity of atomic and hydrogen bombs whose explosions in the past really pierced the heavens as though manmade (stress on "man") power taunted who or what is up there.

Here are the instructions for begging forgiveness and at the same time requesting for more strength "to walk the good" from the Triune God (the Father, Son and Holy Spirit) and Inang Kalikasan:

Hold on to the Divine Mother. You can keep calling Archangel Raphael. Or keep invoking like a mantra the names of the Triune God: MABUHAY PATNUBAY PAGIBIG PAGPAPALA. OR MABUHAY APO REYNA YOLANDA.

Repetitions of the Holy Names will up your frequency and get you out of the low-frequency emotional depression.

Also cover yourself up well. Go to a big tree, narra, pine, sampaloc if you can find one, but NEVER acacia or rubber tree. Stay away from memorial parks or cemeteries. Face the tree and ask the Universe, the Mother, Mother Nature for a healing from what you suffer. Now close your eyes still facing but not touching the tree. Now breathe deeply the good positive vibes of the universe. Then proceed to the tree with open palms pointing upwards, and exhale slowly or drastically, up to you, the pent-up sadness, negative emotions in yourself. Bring them all out.

Now remove your hands from the tree. Breathe in again and exhale again. You can do this any number of times and any number of frequency but only well before dusk or 6 p.m.

Please remember that death is an illusion. Those who died are now better cared for in the spirit world where their physical sufferings are only of the past.

"What is said in the garden stays in the garden."

Among the calming foliage she sits and reflects.

Touching

Reading the instructions closely to understand the intentions to be uttered and the gesture to accompany them.

Shielded by shrubbery, she sends up her prayers.

Palms up, a grandmother pleads.

"When two or three are gathered in His/Her name..."

Miyen renders in watercolor her healing tree and God's gifts to her.

Detail of Miyen's tree


All photos of workshop participants by Sacha Weygan; those of Miyen's watercolors by the blogger

Hanged in the mind's eyes, Jolico continues to breathe in my summer

I've been running through rains
and the wind that follows after
for one certain face
and an unforgotten laughter.

I've been following trains
and staring after ships
for a certain pair of eyes
and a certain pair of lips.

Yes, I've looked everywhere
you can go without wings
and I found a great variety
of interesting things.

But it never was you.
It never was any way you.

-- from the song "It Never Was You" by Maxwell Anderson and Kurt Weill

A.Z. Jolicco Cuadra

While other bloggers are reminiscing about their escapades and other similar trips to sand and surf that defined their summer of 2013, I count without regret my losses, two friends who left for the next dimension, one on the last day of April, the other in early June. It’s my way of saying goodbye to them after their liberation from prolonged illness and suffering.
 
Both times I couldn't yet leave my seclusion to condole with their families, but the cell phone and the email have a way of remedying that, although they can never replace the immediate warmth of human presence.
 
Allow me to remember one of the two with deep fondness and respect.
 
Jolico, who later assumed the name A.Z. Jolicco Cuadra,had been called many things beyond hisbeing a poet, artist and critic. "Enfant terrible of Philippine art" and "Byron of Philippine literature" were among those titles attached to him for he worshiped
no sacred cows in the visual arts world.
 
When he made a rare public appearance at a fundraising concert organized by Pablo Tariman andChurch Cafe for him in 2011, sculptor Julie Lluch remarked how his good looks hadn't faded despite the Parkinson's that was slowly devouring him.

If anything, the slight tremors, the voice that was barely above a whisper, the papery texture of his skin that I felt as I kissed his cheek only made him vulnerable and more lovable, at least to me. My heart opened up, and I wished that I could be a millionairess and miracle worker to do more for him.
 
The empathy swelled when his long-time companion, the poet Auggusta de Almeidda (Chikki to us), revealed to the SRO audience that evening that Jolico had always been shy throughout his life and he needed a boost from the bottle to face and interact with people. (Earlier, his former boozing pals, the writers Erwin Castillo and Recah Trinidad,
brought some liquor in a Mountain Dew bottle, and, like mischievous boys, made Jolico smell the "vapors".)
 
At one point, he was persuaded to come up to the mic to speak. I couldn’t catch the scanty words he uttered, but very clear were these: "Without Christ I am nothing!"
 
I often wonder how Chikki is doing these days in her own solitude. We have exchanged text messages now and then since 2011. She'd tell of how she missed the days when she and Jolico could just saunter off anytime they wanted  when he was still hale. I had heard of stories, early on in their relationship, when he'd literally sweep Chikki off her feet and carry her.
 
I could hear my own heart breaking again in a hundred ways when, in April, she sought help by way of prayers or petitions so she could accept "whatever eventualities there would be. I love him so much I don't want him to suffer further just to make him remain by my side."
 
Now, no more fear, no more trembling, no more apprehension. I'll keep the memory of Jolico alive, he and "his life-swaying years."

Tic Tac Toe

A blank plank of wood served as surface for a big painting (I haven't gotten around to measuring it) I began in February and resumed work on in April to offer it as birthday present for Butones, my grand-daughter. I'm hoping it lasts long enough so she can form an opinion about it when she learns to speak in sentences.

As of now, the acrylic-on-wood painting, which I've called "Tic Tac Toe Hally Hally Hoe," is hung in our porch in Baguio City and gets all naturally lit up by the morning sun. It makes for a colorful background for family pictures as these photos of my sister Suzy and the little gels show.

I thank my painting tutor Norman Chow for getting the muddle all sorted out in my head when I explained my idea for the work (he said he could figure out my incoherence because that was his work as a teacher), my spouse Rolly Fernandez for letting me use this piece of retazo wood idling in his basement, my assistants in detailing, Bianca Susi and Maylene Viray, who spent Holy Week with us in Green Valley, Baguio, to be around for Butones's birthday bash. There was no unveiling of said work, except here on this blog.

Juan Jose Cuadra, who used to answer to the name Jolicco when he wrote art reviews in the past, sent these comments through the email account of his partner Chikki Gomez, a.k.a.Auggusta de Almeidda, upon seeing past photos of my visual works in this blog: "Your childhood's deep pure innocence shows in your mature work. Innocence is important in art. All great artists have the grace of innocence in their art. It is an angelic gift, and I find it in your paintings. Nourish it well."

Grandma Sue carries Butones, Bianca stands at attention.

K stands for Butones's real name, Kai, while numbers 4 and 11 are  her birth date.

A tribute to Butones isn't complete without an elephant or two hugging her.

The full piece taken around 8 a.m. on a Friday morning.

Posing in front of work with the wee ones, Butones and Bianca

.

Detail: That button nose, or should it be tomato-shaped nose?

Another detail: There's a frog in my throat!

We're dog persons, but stray cats are constants in our porch, too.

As for socks, mismatched, paired, orphaned, they're strewn all over the nursery when Butones has full run of the room.

Bianca insisted on polka dots, and after painting three or so dozens of them, she decided to drop her brush and join the trip to Camp John Hay. Guess who was left to finish her spot?

Somewhere in the painting is a symbolic figure of Grumpa Rolly who looks delighted by the sweet sunshine in his life. Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Juan Jose Cuadra puts up a good fight

“What's wrong with Jolico? Di kaya na-karma ’yan? Daming walking wounded dyan.”

This SMS received from a fellow writer nearly made the receiver choke after she had sent a text blast inviting those who’ve known Juan Jose (formerly Jolico) Cuadra as colleague, friend or acquaintance to a fund-raising concert in his honor and for his benefit.

Cuadra, retired poet-art critic, who is living the life of a recluse in the hills of Laguna as he struggles with the initial effects of Parkinson’s disease, was known in the past not only for his poems, especially the much-anthologized “Dogstar” and “Dogging Years,” but also his reviews of art exhibitions. There were times when his acerbic pen cut some artists and pseudo-artists down to size. This endeared him to some, but others were not too pleased.

Painter Sonny Yñiquez once had this conversation with novelist Erwin Castillo who said, “Of all the poets whom God loves, it’s Jolico he loves best.” Whereupon Recah Trinidad, veteran sports writer and poet, who overheard them, said, “Tama ’yan. Marami kami ganyan ang alam.”

About his poems having traces of Jose Garcia Villa’s influence, he said, “I’ve written much poetry, and my language is my own. Villa’s and my poetic sensibilities are worlds apart. One has to read everything a poet has written to make a good judgment. One swallow can’t make a summer. One poem can’t make a poet. I stand on my own as a poet because of the totality of my work.”

When he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, defined by answers.com as “a progressive nervous disease occurring most often after the age of 50, associated with the destruction of brain cells that produce dopamine and characterized by muscular tremor, slowing of movement, partial facial paralysis, peculiarity of gait and posture, and weakness,” his reaction was near denial.

He said, “Naturally, it was a terrible blow to me. I never felt so useless in all of my life. There’s nothing I can do about it, except pray. Only God in his complete love and mercy can heal me. Every day I hope for a miracle. I found out in my situation that only love of God can help. Man, no matter how great he is, is nothing without God’s love. I’ve come to realize that one cannot escape his own karma. Karma is exact when it’s meted out to one. Punishment is exact. One is his own judge and executioner because of karmic debts you accrue for yourself.”

He continued, “If I have to live my life again, I’ll dedicate it to God. I will write the greatest praises to God’s creations, showing him his glory. I’ll write love poems to praise God.”

Of his longtime partner, and now care giver with flair, Auggusta de Almeidda (Chikki Gomez to her friends and family), Cuadra, 72, said, “The woman I love I will love without bounds. We exist because God exists. I will live an exemplary life of the good. I will live by example without forgetting I’m still human.”

De Almeidda helps him do soothing ablutions like warm water therapy with a pinch of salt and molasses or honey. He drinks plenty of water, and they have an early dinner. He’s in bed by 8 p.m. after his evening prayers.

The couple likes to go up on their roof deck to greet Mother Nature and her four elements whom they address by their Filipino names: Amang Haring Araw, Inang Reynang Lupa, Amang Haring Hangin and Inang Reynang Tubig.

On sunny days, Cuadra soaks up the sun and does deep-breathing therapy. For breakfast he has a mix of fertilized duck's eggs, fruits, raw vegetables, whey milk with raw honey, raw buffalo milk (when available), natural supplements like brewer’s yeast, lecithin, wheat germ, sea cucumber and virgin coconut oil.

The couple learned this regimen from Dr. Robin Navarro, a proponent of rapid cellular balancing therapy. For lunch Cuadra is allowed organic chicken or chicken liver. He eats bananas for its serotonin, which alleviates his condition, too.

On July 22, if he is not bothered by the chronic fatigue that is part of the disease, he’ll journey with de Almeidda for a long-postponed reunion with friends at UP Diliman’s Balay Kalinaw where baritone Andrew Fernando, mezzo soprano Clarissa Ocampo, flutist Christopher Oracion and pianist Mary Anne Espina will gift him with an evening of song and music.

When Cuadra asked a member of Church Café, one of the concert producers apart from Music News, why they were doing all these for him, the answer he got was, “The love of Christ compels us!”

Top photo shows Cuadra in purple shirt surrounded by friends Jerry Araos, Auggusta de Almeidda and Sonny Yñiquez at a party in 1997.
Lower photo, de Almeidda and Cuadra
Photos courtesy of Araos family

Coming out in tomorrow's edition of Good Morning Philippines, an MWF paper put out by Times Chronicle Publishing.