i write to believe.

The rain falls cold this morning. My throat is sore. We have a whole day of work to do. Some of my staff got home at 2am. Manuals need to be signed. Last week’s pace was embraced by a creative flow. Filled journals. Sketchbooks painted on. I began to understand the rhythm of visual art as it helped me channel my thoughts into words. This week’s rhythm slightly changes. I feel like delving into reading more than drawing. Sometimes I find the changes peculiar and contradicting. I have questions in my head like, “Why do I feel like drawing now and then a week later I feel like reading?” I suppose it is the nature of creativity. A pattern I need to get used to as I continue to integrate my brain into wholeness of thinking and being. My aunt Elvira left today. She stayed with us for 3 weeks. She visited my Mom and spent time with her. I never thought I’d appreciate her presence so much till this past 3 weeks. It gave me a little bit of breathing room. And I’m sure it h...

My writing flows more in private. I’ve started another journal which only focuses on my explorations on personalities and characters. I’m trying to learn how to write about people. Aside from that I’m trying to understand my writing process better by learning how to understand the rudimentary details of visual art.

I have been wanting to write about the past several days but to no avail. The thoughts wouldn’t just form in my mind. The moments just pass by me. I had wanted to describe the feeling of thinking about my young niece as she boarded the plane back home last year. She has skin asthma and her mom sent her to the Philippines to get well because the weather in the US was too much for her. She’s only 3 years old. Traveling to and fro. I wonder what anxiety heaves behind her chest. I wanted to write about walking around the village at night with friends on their bikes while enjoying the night air and the half-moon watching down from the skies. I wanted to remember how the silence felt like and how peaceful it was to be in so much quiet. I wanted to write about the words of Madeleine L’engle that continue to haunt me towards the last few pages of A Circle of quiet. And the words of Catherine Doherty which are now teaching me to find importance in the practice of prayer. I wanted to wri...

Madeleine L’Engle’s books arrived from my Amazon.com order on July 14, 2009. I was ecstatic. I picked them up at the post office myself and couldn’t wait till I got home to open them. It has been over a year since I started with the first volume of the Crosswicks Journals and now I am proud to say that I have finally reached the last few chapters and am 80% finished. I have to confess, I’m such a mighty procastinator when it comes to my creative life. Reading through Circle of Quiet has shook me at an intensity of 7.1 in the Richter scale. It had me face the facts. I am scared to pursue my dream of becoming a writer because I feel that this desire has been invalidated 5 years ago when I decided to take a detour and go for an MBA to meet my parents’ expectations of giving myself a stable future. I am scared to journey alone. I am scared about the amount of time it would need from me and I am not sure the weight of work obligations will allow me to do what is needed. I am scared t...

I should always get out of bed the moment I wake up on weekends. I seem to accomplish a little bit more when it comes to my solitary moments. So far, I have spent 3 hours solitary at the new sacred space in the garden. An hour of living the internet life and 2 hours reading Madeleine L’Engle’s book. I am less groggy. And less lethargic. Digging into A Circle of Quiet for the last stretch of chapters. I may just finish this book in a record time of 1 month (this greatly frustrates and disappoints me because I used to be able to finish a book in 1 day). Still I move forward however slowly and find my way back to my writer’s rhythm. L’Engle provokes me to pay good attention. I wish she were still alive. I’d really appreciate some good mentoring loving care. I miss having a good mentor. Recalling my mentors back in gradeschool, highschool, college and business school in this (hopefully) brief roll call. Ms. Bocalbos . Was my 3rd grade reading teacher. She was stout and had a ver...

It sat there lazily oblivious I was walking towards him. Orange our resident stray cat found a new place to hang out now the gazebo has been set up in our garden. He looked annoyed when he saw me. As if to say, “Awww you’re up so early! I barely got some shut eye. The night was a long hunt for scraps down the next street. Some teenager’s birthday party.” I didn’t budge and looked flatly at him. “Okay fine, I’ll scoot.” He jumped off and slyly walked into the bushes and out of my sight.

The week felt long and short at the same time. If I can only grasp the words to say it all I’d be the most liberated person alive. But oh, how complicated can thoughts be that one has to be really still just to find all of them swimming to and fro between the right and left hemisphere of my brain. Stillness of the mind after a long activity at work is usually a challenging feat for me. But here I am still trying to carve my way into creativity. This morning I had a moment savored. I was driving at 120kph up Aguinaldo Highway going towards Tagaytay for the last day of our Strategic Planning Workshop. The sun has just about risen. A Starbucks grande caramel macchiatto on my left hand pulled close to my chin. The light of the sun’s rays cast lightly down the left side of my face causing me to see a glow from the left windshield. A bird flies overhead. And the road was long that the drive felt like flying. I had some words tucked in my mind and spoke them softly to myself. ...