The Foolish Amba and Clever Pong

Amba

Once there were two friends named Amba and Pong. A monkey, Amba was shrewd and self-centered. a humble turtle, Pong looked after the Amba and himself. Both of them lived beside a river, in a forest.

One night, a storm hit their place. The river surged and a lot of trees fell down. The following morning, the storm had left and Pong looked around for food. He found a banana tree floating on the river, with some fruits still hanging on it. Hit by an idea, he grabbed the whole tree and searched for Amba.

Amba was lounging in one of the trees in the forest. He was waiting for Pong to bring him breakfast. He was whistling tunelessly, while enjoying the after scent of the storm.

"Amba! Look what I found!" called out Pong.

Amba loped his arm on a branch and dangled himself. "What is it?" he asked excitedly.

Uninspired

The Muse has deserted me
While I toil inside a box
With blood as my sweat
My inspiration is now drained.

Now as I stand in the open air
Searching inside for that beat
Yet the spark has now waned
The Muse has deserted me.

Mental Shackles

So many times, we found ourselves shackled by our own fears,
immobilized by dread. The sword of Damocles is hanging above our head. A vitriolic decoction, we swallow the draft that make us see our lack of control.

We feel alone, helpless, like living inside a dank dungeon. No sunlight streaming in. No bright tomorrow to look forward to.

Yet, this terror is in the mind, a susurrant whisper that swells into a shout. It warps our thinking process and disables our motor coordination. If we can silence this, we enable ourselves to act and gain back the control on our lives.

In the process, we realize that the manacles that fettered us from acting is just a figment of our imagination and that all along, the manacles are corroded.

Getting Out of Hand(s)

Things are stressful lately (or as always). For one, the second semester is ending. Exams are to be handed out. Later on, grades will be computed and requirements are to be accomplished for clearance signing.

In addition to that, I need to finish my thesis in time for my  defense in March so I can finally be over and done with this one hurdle in my academic life – my Master’s degree. Perhaps, by then, I can focus on the rest of my life.

Amidst all these deadlines and must-do’s, one can be overwhelmed to the point of breaking down. Fortunately, I got friends who are there to reassure me and ease my high-strung mind. Another ace on my sleeve is my doodling on paper. Lately, I have been sketching hands.

These sketches remind me of what I have learned about letting go; a lesson I keep on repeating like a mantra and hopefully it will be ingrained on me as I lead a less stringent life. (I used a semi-colon, Jack.)

The lesson appears simple but often overlooked especially when one just wants structure; that I can control my life and I am not at the mercy of fate. If chaos reigns, I only have to sort the things I can change from those that I cannot,and let  to go of those things I have no control with and hold on to those that truly matter.

Byways Along Our Highway

It has been a long time since I made an update. There is only one post for October and if I am starting a pattern, this might be my only post for November. I certainly hope not.

Let me share with you this ink drawing I named Highway. Even though this won’t earn me a P5,000 cash or a P5 coin, this piece has a special meaning to me.



During my month-long absence, I realized some points in my life. One of which is that we are all travelling on a highway. Some travels in groups. Others with a partner. And there are those that travel alone. They are referred as “the lone wolf”.

Different we may be, our inherent curiosity often prods us to check out the byways, the little roads we see that littered along the highway. And this is when the journey becomes interesting. For just like a game, each turn can break or make us. It might bring tears on our eyes or laughters in our lips. It can teach us to fight or die. It may consume us.

In the end, we find ourselves moving towards the direction of the highway. Given the patience of time, we reach the main road. But whatever we have experienced in the byways, we know we are no longer the same person at the start of the journey.

Itapon, Basura Nyo

Sa bawat araw na ginawa ng Diyos, marami tayong nagagawang basura. Balat ng kendi, buto ng prutas, plastic cups, bote ng Coke, papel, balahibo ng manok. Ilan lamang ito sa mga basurang ating tinatapon sa mag-araw.

Dahil sa talamak na pagtatapon ng basura sa ating kapaligiran at ang mga kaakibat na problema nito, likas sa atin ang maghanap ng kasagutan. Karamihan, pinagbubukud-bukod natin ang bawat uri ng basura. Malata, di-malata, residual.


Meron namang biodegradable, non-biodegradable. Sa ganitong sistema, may mga basurang  nare-recycle. May iba  namang ginagawang biofuel.

Ngunit may mga basurang di nakikita. Tinatago natin ito sa kaibuturan ng ating kaluluwa. Mga pighati, poot, kabiguan, inggit, galit at iba pa.Ito ang mga basurang karapat-dapat na itapon sa paglubog ng araw. Sa tagal ng panahong pagkimkim sa salansang na damdamin, ito ay aalingasaw at sisira sa bawat relasyon ng mag-ama, mag-asawa, o magkaibigan.

Ito ang mga kaugnayang di natin hahayaang mawala. Kung sa gayon, isang mapanglaw na pagsalubong ang ating maidudulot sa pagsikat ng araw.

Concretizing Abstract

Mama taught me before to use pencils to draw. Whatever mistakes I would make, I could easily remove it with an eraser. When I discovered sign pens in high school, I overlaid my pencil-drawings with ink. Ballpoint pens are good tool for drawing because you can’t always leave to the house without it. Only, once you commit a mistake, you have to find ways to save your work or start all over again with a clean paper.

Inks have found niche in Chinese and Japanese art, specifically in calligraphy. They used brushes and specialized applicators such as bamboo quills. The ink they used are not the same type we used on pens. It is a special type of ink, sold in National Bookstore or Metro as Chinese ink.

Considering the drill my mother taught me, ink-drawing is a challenge to me. When I had dabbled on this in my art class, my most likely theme is abstract. I can just whisk an ink here and there using the bamboo quills. Unfortunately, I have never been a fan of abstract drawing.

I have great respect for abstract artists but my obsessive-compulsive side just refused to lose control. To my credit, I did try and here are the results.

A poor attempt of abstracting volcanic eruption that looks like a party at the tip of the crater instead.

Or something that lies in the chemistry realm, abstracting chemists. Unfortunately, they look more like ghosts to me.

Indeed, I am not good with harmonizing lines to generate abstract beauty. But before, I left my art class that night, I finally came up with this.

Not bad after how many takes I made.