The Seamstress (A dedication to my mother’s devotion to dressmaking)

This dusk is unlike the others
Yes, the sun is setting just like before but this one is darker
I see your frail frame shaped by the gloom of the day
As you trudge slowly entering the gate, uncertain of your steps and feebler sway
Then there in the remaining light a spark my questioning eyes see
It reflects upon the bead of your tears like the salt of the sea
You are crying.
But my innocent mind of a child could not fathom the depths of your agony
Perched upon the window of ramshackled hut
my blurred vision of the dying light
Your tears falling upon the hardened ground
Soft sobs and muzzled rage
Why suffer the fate of the outcast
For being born in the lot of the peonage?
Countless nights saw you sew every thread of your life in each masterpiece
Numberless suns burned your eyes to the core of its balls for lack of sleep
Your sewing machine must have loved you much for the tender hugs that you spent with it

I see this dusk darker than before
You cry with the tears that only a God could dry
You cry .....
Not for the misfortune that you suffer
Not for jeers and taunts from those who have so much to share but would not
Not because of the unrewarded labor that you brought into your beautiful creations,
Adoring crowd in festivals unmindful of the blood and sweat that come with such masterpieces
In every sparkle of beads and sequins are the pearls of your tears
In every crimson fiber is the blood you shed in every pierce of the needle
You fill their empty hunger for beauty as you hunger for a penny
You fill their thirst for vanity as your soul is bared naked for depravity
I love that dress – they say!
Tonight we gather in empty table praying that hunger would go away
The night settles
And the sewing machine trudges on till another break of day.


- 24 April 2010 at the AIM, Makati, Philippines

Sharing the Beauty of Life

Finally, this dawn has compelled me to write and start a blog. This is something that has always been occupying my mind but never got to start. Much in the same way that for years, I have always wanted to put in a journal all my thoughts, experiences, stories, poems, essays and all that I have been curious about, and all that I have done, is doing and will do.

My existence is one of curiosity and adventure. I am always inquisitive about life in general and its mysteries, its joys and pains, its hues and colors, its bluntness and its mysteries. And one thing that further makes my life interesting is my seemingly sometimes naive and childlike disposition to try the things I am curious about. For indeed, I cannot speak of ideas and things I have not explored or experienced. Stories are always reflections of a part of what we have experienced.

So, why the title? Well, since this blog is a narration of my life, my thoughts, and whatever makes my life meaningful, I decided to use this title because this is a reflection of what I have always stood for and struggled in my life.

My life is a celebration of struggles against prejudice and the testament to the blessings of pursuing dreams upon dreams that no one would have believed we could ever achieved because of the myopia that prejudice, self-pity and lack of wealth could bring to us and to those who surround us.

Harvard is quite known for its elitist and wealthy background. This of course is not unfounded. Simply by going through the rolls of its alumni and their respective backgrounds, one can immediately deduce such label. Yet, if one would have to go beyond the label and the stereotype, he could see that it is far beyond wool sweaters and cufflinks, of pricey loafers and crimson ties. Yes, Harvard could be for non-preppy too.

But this blog is beyond Harvard but more of a story of my blessings that I was able to take the journey to its gates and beyond them. A journey from a destitute life, bereft of wealth, influence and power, I shall bear witness to the possibilities of hopes and dreams and how important they are in finding the fire that shall blaze and light up the path on roads less traveled. And this is a testament to the grace of a Power that makes the universe expand. Of a Power that nurtures and makes dreams real. Of God and the power of faith in believing in God's grace and mercy.

And so I shall write and this blog shall be the first step to the journey of finding my steps forward by remembering the lessons of my past. It is also for the benefit of my children who I hope could find the lessons of history as means of finding happiness in the future.

Life is always beautiful. And no beauty is complete without being shared.