Ah. The rains have finally come. Big, fat dollops of rain fell splashing the past days, signalling the end of the infernal summer days. The thunder, the lightning, the pewter-colored skies: let the fresh, cool wind come. Let the rain soak our parched lands. Let new life begin.
Although the stifling summer might have been insufferable, there have been some interesting personal highlights to this summer.
Trip to Guimaras
As I have related a few posts back, I was able to join a group who went to the Our Lady of the Philipines Trappist Abbey to spend 8 days of silent, meditative retreat. I don’t know which flowed more copiously – the sweat from the heat, or the tears that came during the devotional reflections given to us by our retreat master. Sometimes they blend in such a way that they become an offering to God who was the center of that retreat. Teachers, counsellors, missionaries, I sensed a deep awareness of God’s presence and the appreciation of His mysteries within the group. I am privileged to have met and known them.
Sentinels to an Insomniac Vigil
I’ve recently found an interesting companion to my usual insomniac vigil, although lately I am beginning to suspect that this new-found buddy is not just a companion but rather the cause of my sleepless nights these days. Witty, creative, and challenging, this cohort is eloquent (all 240 words) and has the amazing capacity to stick on metallic surfaces. Yes, I’ve recently gotten myself a Magnetic Poetry® set, and I’m hooked at first line. Composed of 240 magnitized words and word fragments, one can create poetry by arranging the words and sticking them to metalic surfaces, e.g. refrigerator doors, etc. The finite number of words forces you to be conscise, terse even, and ultimately evocative, but the possible word combination is virtually infinite –limited only by one’s creativity, or lack thereof. When I feel brave enough, I might even post some of my attempts at poetry here.
Book Binge
This summer, terrifically hot, was an opportunity to go on a reading binge, usually as a result of bargain-book hunting expeditions. Patiently stalking known gathering holes for rare finds, and surprising hunting skills probably genetically passed on by long-dead hunter-ancestors, I snatched up a copy of “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” (I needed a refresher course, in prepation for the upcoming movie version) at Diplomat for P30, Bill Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods” and “Made in America,” at Books for Less (I would have to disagree with the name. Their books are not necessarily cheaper.), Marcel Proust’s “Pleasures and Days,” Isabel Allende’s classic, “The House of Spirits” (hardbound copy, P50!), Garrison Keillor’s “The Book of Guys,” David Gutterson’s “Snow Falling on Cedars” (P60!). I’ve also chanced upon and went for the jugular when I saw Alex Garland’s “The Beach.” Eclectic, this menagerie of delightful finds soothe the fever of the day, and took me to places where the heat of the sun is merciful and forgiving.
Garrison Keillor said, “Book-reading is a solitary and sedentary pursuit, and those who do are cautioned that a book should be used as an integral part of a well-rounded life, including a daily regimen of rigorous physical exercise, rewarding personal relationships, and a sensible low-fat diet. A book should not be used as a substitute or an excuse.” Yeah. Right. Sensible diet – aren’t these contradiction in terms? Rewarding personal relationships? Hugely overrated, someone in the know once said, hehehe. One shouldn’t feel guilty about book reading simply for the pleasure of it.
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