Endurance lessons from water, air, leaves

"She described the reasons 'why I should go on living.'

"That my life was not for myself alone, but also for others around me, especially for those with whom I have a strong emotional relationship...in spite of growing old and infirm, I still had the ability to give something to others. This sense of being able to give and not just take, makes living worthwhile. When the mind and brain still function, one can contribute even a tiny bit for the benefit of those with whom one has a relationship of love and trust." - Sherwin Nuland quoting a letter from his friend Ruby Chatterjee

Before officially crossing over to the year of grace (so-called because one is undeserving of it but it is still being given, perhaps not just another 365 days, maybe more), I've been reading up on aging. The book beside my bed these past nights is Dr. Nuland's The Art of Aging: A Doctor's Prescription for Well-being (a Random House book published in '07).

The small discomforts of physical aging are not yet pronounced, although I'm starting to feel them. But I don't pay heed to them during walks with The Wee One. She isn't so wee anymore. A few days ago, she declared with surety one morning, while gazing up at me, that she wasn't that small anymore, that her head of soft curls could now reach my belly button area.

Our extended family of born free creatures now includes these fish that gotta swim and the wild birds (ravens?) that gotta fly, then rest on tree's branches before they zip to other parts of Baguio.

During those walks, she'd skip, hop, run, climb, ask to be pushed high when she's on the playground swing. I am just her onlooker-observer, someone to sometimes hold hands with. She always chooses the path to take for those walks and leads the way. A "must" stopover is the village pond. She speaks low to remind me that we have to tiptoe. Then she puts her pointer finger across her lips to mean we shouldn't use our normal conversation voices. Otherwise, the school of fish swimming close to the murky, bottle-green surface of the water will quickly dive below.

Her eyes and powers of observation are sharper than mine. At times she even directs me to the direction of the wind that's rippling the water's surface. She notices the reflection of trees and ferns, the unusual shapes made by the morning shadows cast by capiz lamps that hang from the branches of a pine tree.

The strange shapes formed on the water's surface by a summer breeze, trees "growing" on water, the shadows cast by the trees--these are the things The Wee One and I delight in during the summer of her fourth year in this world.

Her lesson isn't lost on this aging woman. To enjoy a sacred Sunday like today, one must stay close to the Present and not fret about tomorrow and the days after it.

I hope that with my companionship, I've also contributed something to her life.

A friend once described her thoughts when she became a grandparent: "It's a great feeling! We all didn't like the idea of growing old. But you can't be a grandma without getting old." Photos by Babeth

The roses of April are here

A pretty song--that's how I remember Simon and Garfunkel's "April Come She Will." It's the month "when streams are ripe and swelled with rain." But I guess the boys were referring to spring in their hemisphere.

I used to spin S&G's greatest hits on my parents' stereo back in college until I had memorized some lyrics. There was "I Am a Rock" whose lyrics struck me to my very core at a time when I was over-sensitive and in need of much desensitizing from a world that I thought I couldn't understand.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

But years and decades have passed, I've somehow "moved on", achieved a certain amount of "closure", and the girl whose body I once inhabited is increasingly fading away. I put those words in quotes because they're, well, so current among those who would play psychologists.

One way of getting out of the prison of introversion is to take photos, to look at the world through a lens clearly. This I have discovered through the years of blogging and doing reportorial coverage for a living (correction: for survival in the big city).

I get near instantaneous results. These results make visible some inner conversations (more of monologues) I have with myself. Somehow I'm able to share the serenity or the turmoil (whichever I'm going through at any moment) with people out there. It does make me feel less lonesome, an alone-ness heightened when one is in the boisterous company of family and of friends.

Typhoon Chedeng is expected tonight or tomorrow. Weather forecasters predict that its tail end will pass through the province of La Union, not too far from Baguio. So before these pink roses are blown away, let them live through these images that I took two days ago while on a morning walk with my grandchild.

Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Swingtime

"If you surrender completely to the moments as they pass, you live more richly those moments." - Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I have realized that my blog has also become a grandmother's scrapbook/journal/photo album of The Wee One's development from birth to departure from toddlerhood. I've saved in a box some of the cards that went with her presents, the table tags that accompanied her mother Kimi's baby shower, her doodles, etc. But I can't seem to find the time to do that collage scrapbook I used to enjoy doing when my own children were growing up--their times of your lives books of remembrances.

Blogging about this child in my life is quicker and response time just as fast with comments on how she has grown, how her verbosity is a sign of how loved she is because she is a confident speaker. She'll even put her hand over your mouth if you've spoken way too much, and she wants her turn to render an opinion or continue a story.

When I'm in Baguio, we go on walks in our not too populous neighborhood. We're lucky when the playground doesn't have the holiday crowd of kids making a beeline for the playground. That's when The Wee One has the swing to herself. All she needs is a strong push and what follows is a delighted "Wheeee!" A living example of one who enjoys the moment!

Photos by Booboo Babeth

Snapshots by toddler K

The Wee One just needs a little assistance and encouragement, as I had earlier written, in skills that she needs to live and endure in this world. And perhaps with her elders' inputs, she'll be equipped to handle the whatevers later on.

Meanwhile, she has taken an interest in pushing the button of the digicam after a little coaching on framing. Sometimes one or two little fingers cover the lens, and she has to be reminded where to place them. Or to be steady from wherever she sits or stands before she takes a picture so the image doesn't blur too much.

Here are her portraits of some of her family members: her Grumpa and her Mamay. The thing with toddlers is, after the initial "mastery" of something, whether it's a puzzle or doing split jumps, their attention wanders or their sense of wonderment shifts. This granny is OK with that. I remember to follow the trail so there are keepsakes like these.

While he was reading

While she was threading the Christmas tree balls