I saw a TV feature on a Chinese painter the other night. Asked about his process, he said that everyday, he keeps quiet. He sets aside time to be quiet, then he paints. And he does these alone.

It’s a solitary act, to paint and create, and I’ve returned many times to the question of whether it’s an act for me, whether I’d be happy being solitary most of the time, every single day.

Honest answer: I found myself wishing for the same quiet time that that artist had. Honest-to-goodness quiet time, with no phones, no emails to answer, no urgency to attend to, no loose ends waiting for me to resolve, no one waiting for me to respond.

My ideal everyday would be spent quietly, with time for socials yes, but generally, it is a day spent slowly, without hurry or worry. My idea of “work”, which is really just a word for the most effective way to spend our most productive hours, is being alone, sometimes doing nothing but being alone. Because ironically it’s when I’m allowed my alone time that I’m able to be a better friend, sister, daughter, aunt. It’s when I’m able to see clearly, speak with weight, and create with courage. When everydays are noisy, all I can muster, when I do get to put anything out there, is a making-do, a pwede na.

A bridge maybe.

But bridges must lead to somewhere. And for now, that somewhere is the quiet. I want to get to the quiet.

Bridges are also what will get us to that somewhere, I know this. And for all of us who make do, who want more but also cherish what’s before and around us, I say thank you and good luck. There is courage too in bridging. It pushes us forward and gives a taste, of what’s to come.

When I was 23, I met a man who swept me off my feet. He was 29 and tall, had a warm smile, soft hands, and deep curious eyes. He was an economist who one day just packed his bags, went to the mountains and disappeared. I met him on a gap moment, when he literally came out of his cave to reconnect with society. To wide-eyed me, who’s never met a hippie before, he was beautiful.

He told me these words:

You can only hold me accountable for what I say and do, when I say and do it.

At that time, it didn’t make sense to me. How can you have friends that way? How can you love that way? With no one to hold you to your word, with no word to even be given. He was big on the NOW, on what’s present. I remember him catching me once with a faraway look, and he asked me what I was thinking. I said I remembered my family back home (I was away on a solo trip abroad then), and he asked me to just look at him, be 100% with him. The way he was with me.

Maybe that’s why it was so intoxicating to be around him–I had his whole attention. For the moments that he was with me, I had all of him.

I’ve only come to understand what all that meant, what it entailed from his end.

I used to think of it as selfish. When he was present, he was wholly present, but when he was gone, he was also wholly gone. Not letting people call on him, or expect anything from him was short of saying “I live for myself.”

But I’ve also come to see the truth in it, in enjoying and loving what’s before us, when it’s before us.

For one thing, it’s given me a deeper appreciation of impermanence. Everything passes.

Whether it’s for better or for worse that I now see and understand this, I’m still not sure. But here’s what’s been hovering over me lately: Talk is cheap. Promises are easy to say out loud, ideals easily laid out and put to words.

We say a lot of things we don’t mean. Most of us plead guilty to this when we do small talk. But how often do we do this to people who are dear to us? Sometimes, it’s better to just hold our tongue and let actions do the talking. Let how we give people our most valuable gift — our time — be the judge of what we really want to say.

Why are beginnings so wonderful?

Yes there is the exuberance of possibility, of something new and yet to be known.

But there is also the closing of something old, a passing or a leaving behind.

When we begin, we also automatically end, and this journey of the transition, and the call to see it through, makes such events so joyful, and demanding.

And if we pay attention and commit to moving forward, we’ll know where we’re supposed to go.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Here are some old Montaluts– my chirpy pills:

The classic hug.

Hugs are great pick-me-uppers. Great idea to hug as many people as possible after this post.

Roar.

I’m smiling just thinking about why I painted this. HA.

Sometimes looking back at past moments of sadness is enough to uplift.

Numbness = stillness = serenity? Asa.

Aha. Here we go. Recent sketch, in Palawan. Would be great to float again in Nagtabon.

A gentle nudge. Also my facebook profile pic now.

A great pick-me-upper: Sammy! Who can resist softening up to such an angel?

Old scribbles. I can feel the joy here– spontaneous moment captured in a scribble.

More so here– here come’s the sun!

Let’s bring out (in?) more sunshine!

Always a fave:

Singkit smile!

FISHIES! Crazy fun times.

Will end with this. Rumi’s fish.

Swimming up (up is always good!), happy vibe, with seriousness, maybe intent. Peaceful fish, I like this.

That was fun.

xo
Good vibes.

Been trying to answer this objectively, without emotional heaviness and without the musts and shoulds– what happens when you realize everything passes, everything ends?

WHAT I WANT TO BELIEVE:

You punch back with all your might, or with the might you have left, determined to believe that  ”everything begins just as much”.  Yes you punch, because you’ve questioned, gotten angry and confused, maybe even complacent. You now need the build up that leads to the punch, the jolting release to “get back in the game”.

Society has been able to create refuges of every sort, for since it preferred to take love-life as an amusement, it also had to give it an easy form, cheap, safe, and sure, as public amusements are.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Refuge as cheap.  Safety in relationships as cheap.

I never thought to look at them that way.

I’ve always regarded friends as people we feel safe with, that it’s the number one factor that determines a friendship: Do we feel safe to be?  To be honest and just be?   Friends are sanctuaries not necessarily because they protect us from harm, but because they’re just there– no judgment, no demands.  They listen, they understand, and sometimes they don’t even have to say anything. And we do the same for them.

But I never realized how hard it is to really have no demands.  And to not demand even this safety in friendship.

One of the most hurtful things I’ve ever told a friend was “I don’t expect anything from you.” It came from a place of disappointment, of not wanting to be disappointed again, and it also hurt me to say it.  When you don’t expect, you acknowledge a diminished regard for the other.  And yes, some kind of safety sets in, because you’re not putting yourself out there anymore, you’ve already pulled back.

This isn’t the kind of refuge we want in relationships.   Rilke calls it cheap and advises us to brave the difficult path of learning to say “No expectations” sincerely, up close and with zero bitterness, coming from a place of love.

Maybe it helps to ask, ”What is refuge?”  We often equate it with comfort or protection, maybe even a certain untouchability: I am comfortable at a safe distance.  I feel safe when I don’t know you, or when I only touch you up to here, and when you only touch me up to there.

But I think true refuge is actually the opposite– it’s a drawing as near as possible, and also an opening as wide as possible, to someone, something:  I am near but I am moving, we are both moving.  And the time and place where we meet is also moving, adjusting to what it needs to do, what it needs us to do.

I am learning that friendship is movable, and that shifts are not endings.  Safety is not presence or 24-7 availability.  It’s not even loyalty — there is also a danger in over-loyalty.  There is no promise of tomorrow or yesterday, only a sensitivity to what is and what is not, right here, right now.

Where does friendship go?  It goes where it goes.

I drew this only a few days ago, so much anger then. I woke up in the middle of the night and just put pen to paper and let it out.  I even dreamt this scene in such vivid color I swore I was going to paint a whole series about burning bridges.

Now it’s making me chuckle, and that’s not a bad thing.

The cloud has passed, or has nearly passed, and wow.   I’m slightly worried it went by so fast.

Pwera balik.

I haven’t paid attention to TV for over six years now, but today I couldn’t cast it aside so easily. What was on? Local news.

Talk of the water hyacinth invasion in Cotabato was worrisome and frustrating– 200,000 hectares of hardy plants on the offense, surely no match for 2 backhoes! It’s a real life attack-of-the-killer-bees/ants/corn and in a man-vs-nature scenario, what chance does man have, really? What more the ill-equipped Pinoy? Then news of shared classrooms came on– shared not between sections but between grade levels: grade 1 kids sitting almost next to grade 2 kids in small circles around their teachers. Who can learn in an environment like this, and especially when simply learning is not enough anymore, when what is needed is for children to learn well?

Switching channels got me to Willie’s show–and I realized I didn’t even know he was back on TV.

I’ve been so out of touch, thinking all this time that I was being responsible. I banished TV from my everyday life because it got too noisy, too cluttered, and I just assumed (or convinced myself) I wasn’t missing out. I still had the internet and twitter for news updates, and I got to stay “in touch” with the world through filters of my choosing.

But have I really been in touch? Six years of no TV (and no newspapers, no radio, no magazines) and how different have my everydays turned out?

When you retreat into a cave, you get to work on your inner circle–all the things within reach. But there comes a point when you realize your world has gotten so small, that keeping the noise out has become just a vain exercise. Maybe because you’ve recharged for so long, you have so much surplus energy, and you actually owe it to those who haven’t had your luxury to put it to good use “out there”.

The same old questions are still there– who will save the Philippines? What can I do?

There are friendships we hold sacred– people who are our crutches or default, much like family.  They’re just there, won’t go anywhere, no need for validation. Even when we fight and squabble (if  we do), the thought of breaking ties or “losing” each other is non-existent.

Next to love or romance, friendships are stable, non-volatile.  I once wrote about this in Love is not it,  inspired by this line: “Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love.”

I used to think it’s because friendships, particularly soul friendships, last forever.

But what is forever?

Why do we find comfort in forever?

When something cannot be taken from us, we relax, we lose the “security” worry.   We like the idea of unlimited anything– unlimited food, money, vacations.   Why not unlimited time, or people, right?

Forever friends.  Best friends.  Travel-mates–people we brave our journeys with, whether we are on the same journey or not.

Having even just one person believe in us, understand us, be “just there”… it’s enough to empower us to conquer the world!

But many of those who truly seek, advise the opposite: to dwell on impermanence, that everything passes.

Forever is a distraction, a step away, and we must allow even the most sacred people in our lives breathing space to leave when it’s time to leave.  And when it’s us who are being called to leave, we pray for the courage to do the same.

I grew up loving the word “dreamer”.  For me, it brought forth not just a promise, but an assurance that that promise could and would be made real.

It’s not my favorite word anymore.

Neither is food.  Nor travel.  Nor the Philippines, Filipino, saving the world.

I don’t like the same things I used to like — they don’t make me happy, don’t light up my eyes.

What lights up my eyes now?

Is that even the question that needs asking?

A friend says I feel unhappy.
Sees and feels it.
Bitter cloud over my head.

When was the last time I was happy?

When I think happy thoughts I see my family. Big smiles, dancing, drinking, hugging, jumping up and down to be exact. New Year’s Eve 2011 in Boracay. Solid happy moment.
Despite our everyday squabbles, these people are home to me.

Where are friends in the picture though?
Have been running low on happy thoughts with friends.
Solid dis-connect.

Here are some that found new homes during the 10a Alabama art fair– fare thee well, my friends!

Other montaluts now “out at sea”:

- Masked oil painting circa 2000 bought my friend,Gab is Unsubcultured
- Mini montaluts now with by Arlene Barbaza of Artefact Handmade, who pointed out the magical impromptu poetry reading session we had under the mango tree! THANK YOU to you, Remmon, and Mia for that

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I paint as a renewing activity–both for myself and hopefully also for those who interact with my works.

Original paintings and prints for sale. Shipping can be arranged.

Let’s SUPPORT INDIE ART xo

More info at the 10a Alabama Page.

Losing a friend is difficult.   But sometimes an old friendship needs to be reviewed against the very same guidelines that created it.

I’ve found comfort and company in thinking of a relationship as a river.  It flows as two people flow, and gains strength as these two people share themselves with each other and begin to merge.    Imagine what happens when this river gets reigned in by a dam… It will hate that dam, and with all its might, try to break it down, find a way around it, over it, under it— any way to get through and flow like an invincible river again.

The dam can be anything that halts the friendship: a deep disagreement, harsh judgment, loss of trust.  With effort and love, though, even the biggest dams of this type can be torn down and order in the friendship restored.

Sometimes, a special halt happens in a relationship that no amount of effort can put right.   There’s nothing specific to resolve, nothing that needs a return, or a re-take.   The dam is there because it is part of us– we are both the river and the dam.   It becomes deeply frustrating, and also hurtful to be in this situation because ultimately we are fighting against ourselves.   We can keep on insisting on returning to our natural course as friends–or we can recognize that the dam is not meant to be overcome.  We are not meant to be anything but ourselves.

There is good news though:  the river never stops flowing.   Even in this state that now seems unnatural and stifling, the river is actually flowing just as invincibly, if not more so.  It is gathering speed, generating power.  Power for what, who knows…? But wherever it ends up, it will always be that river…

Friends come and go, and for those that go, we weep and reminisce.  But we must also remember to see goodbyes as gifts, and be thankful, and let them push us to where we’re supposed to go.

The goal of the river is to create a wide, flat valley where it can flow smoothly towards the ocean.