Monthly Archives: March 2012

Begin again

On this lazy Sunday afternoon, while Hubby and child rest from the week’s labors, I take this time to recharge: Why do I want to write?

When I told my mother I was abandoning law practice for writing (and teaching), she mourned, “I did not raise you to be a writer.” Writing, for her, was a hobby, something I could do on weekends, on my free time, when I had finished with everything else more important, like earning a living. She thought that I was being too indulgent.
I could not give her–or myself–any easy answers.
Writing connects me to parts of myself buried by deadlines or harassed by daily cares. It shapes thoughts that defy form. I find the words that hide in my heart; by this I relive or grieve moments. My life, sometimes painfully, falls into place. I am a fractal; I need words to find me.

Ay, caramba!

Worked out this afternoon, dancing the Zumba. Great exercise that felt more like dancing. Discovered two things: I’m tight as a fist, and I’m not graceful.

Did a bit of yoga a few days ago, which felt more like meditation but crunched a whole lot of workout. DIscovered two things: I’m tight as a fist, and I’m not flexible.

Looking forward to combining these two with swimming. I feel the endorphins working and hope they also jumpstart my creativity.

A curve ball

Oh the many ways we procrastinate.

Spent all afternoon–my most productive time–at the service center, trying to connect my main gmail account to my Blackberry Curve, which the technician, kind as he was, was unable to do. Consoled myself with coffee mocha and ensaimada soaked with yema. My Food Diary was grieved, but my mouth was in ecstasy.

Spent all night figuring out what the technician couldn’t, and as if it knew the time, the phone decides to cooperate by midnight. Finally.

A day spent not writing, though I got to read the wonderful It’s Not My Fault by Drs. Cloud and Townsend at the service center. My heart is a little slow in absorbing this book’s many truths.


A writer I admire told me today that one of the books he’s looking forward to reading is mine. What can I tell him: I want to read that book too.

Tonight I need and embrace, fully, the encouragement I’ve received.


In December Hubby promised me an iPhone 4S. Today he brought home a Blackberry. Wrong fruit.

The BB gives me access to my e-mail anytime, anywhere. I wonder, would it make writing easier or harder?

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Had to stop and watch the fountains at Tektike after a meeting, soaking in the sights and sounds of water, to breathe and forgive myself for taking on another writing job that I don’t want to do. Hubby had warned me not to make money my reason for accepting a project, but with our home renovation costs, I am, alas, a beggar who cannot be a chooser.

I would ordinarily resort to junk food and cola, but the Food Diary would be offended. So I bought some Camembert, brie, multigrain crackers and black grapes–further sealing my fate as a debtor. My warrior self would say Bring it on, but tonight I think I’d just like to wallow. I deserve some big-time wallowing.


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I am Amazon

PayPal sure earned enough from me tonight. But, oh, am excited to try out the Christian yoga book and DVDs–five!!–that I bought from Amazon.

Lived my life in bits today: a bit of yoga, a bit of swimming, a bit of writing, a bit of reading, a bit of play, a bit of work. All adding up to a whole lot of tired.

Food Diary worked for Day 1. I even bumped off Coke and salt today. Nice.

Tomorrow is another day. Starting Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. Sounds apt: my bones are a tad sore from today’s exertions.



I have over 50 notebooks and journals. Beautiful ones, with leather covers or thick, cream pages. They hold such promise.

They terrify me. They are too pure, too pristine, and I feel my words are not sufficient, not worthy. I have to forgive myself for marring their pages.

Today I exorcise this writing fear rooted in perfectionism. I embrace Chilton Pearce’s words: “To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.”

These are my freedoms:

1. I am free to make mistakes–no apologies.

2. I do not always have grand ideas.

3. I am ordinary.

4. I commit grammatical errors.

5. I will allow my handwriting to go haywire.

6. I do not have to fill the pages.

7. I will not edit what I have handwritten.

8. I forgive myself for starting only now and am grateful for this 45th second chance.

9. I do not have to please anybody, even me.

10. Relax.

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Food and writing

I start my Food Diary today, praying it will make me more mindful not just of what I invest in my body, but also of how I value myself and God’s workmanship. May this exercise strengthen my ability to say NO to what harms me. I extend this discipline to my writing and pray for the Spirit to gently guide me in a journey that requires more mental and spiritual calisthenics than physical.


I can do 50 days

(I’m cheating. This isn’t a post for another day. I’m writing two (probably more) posts tonight and change the dates so it’ll seem like I’m more disciplined than I really am. Gah. I’m fooling even myself.)

So. I figure that since the blahness of my writing is directly related to the blahness of my energy levels, I’ve decided to adopt three workout regimens: Christian yoga, swimming, and Zumba.

I don’t take much to gyms, and have squandered many a peso on paid but unused memberships. I prefer workouts that don’t feel like exercise: trekking, badminton, dancing.

With pollution and heat levels increasing, I can’t do much trekking in the city. The badminton courts near us have closed since running has snatched the players away. That leaves me with dancing–Zumba, which looks like a lot of fun. I’ve been urging Hubby to take ballroom lessons with me, which he likes, in principle. So if the mountain won’t go to Muhammed…

I’m looking forward to trying out Christian yoga. But it’ll take some time before my DVDs arrive, so I’ll make do with the free 20-minute yoga downloads for beginners. I’m intrigued by finding my center, by breathing right, by opening my mind and heart. Surely the physiological is never far from the psychic? This body and soul is meant to be in union, in harmony, married to each other, even if temporarily. I want to explore how yoga–underpinned by Scriptures–sparks my life and revives my spirit. Hubby went out patrolling for this nice Adidas yoga mat, over which he got upset about because his Adidas discount card just expired, and he couldn’t use the 30% discount on a P2,200 mat (what?!?!). He is a dear, and will go out again looking for someone with a viable discount card.

Swimming, well, that I’m not too fond of, but Hubby just bought me a kickboard and some state-of-the-art Speedo goggles (yes, they are really neat) at my request, so the next few days are a go for swimming. I also need to work up good sea legs for my first dive safari to the Tubbataha Marine Sanctuary in April, where the currents can be fierce. This dive trip, I hope, will light a spark plug in me. Imagine: I am given free dives so I can write about it. Two loves in one.

There is a lot to look forward to, not least of all the energy and renewed creativity for my writing that I hope will result from sleeping early, getting fit, and keeping focus.

Today is Day 1. (Told you I’m fond of scaring numbers into me.) I’d like to do 50 days. I want to do 50 days. I can do 50 days.