We are craftsmen

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What is your art? It amuses me to hear people say they don’t have any talent or that they’re not good in anything.

“Care of the Soul requires craft.

To live with a high degree of artfulness
means to attend to the small things
that keep the soul engaged in whatever we are doing
And it is the very heart of soul-making.”

Art, as language of the soul, nurtures the soul.
Thus it should be in our every day. 

“The fine arts are elevated and set apart from life,
becoming too precious and therefore irrelevant.
Having banished art to the museum,
we fail to give it a place in ordinary life.”

My art is in people. I like seeing them grow and I’m a believer of change and progress. Seeing through and being seen, that’s when I am most connected to the world, in my very sense of destiny. People when they bloom, for me is the most beautiful that art has ever known.

Art that is not contained in movement, in rhythm, in color, texture and shape, in emotions and still moments — what is your art?

This is what Hey Artist is all about. Focus on your craft, enrich your talent, nurture your soul, and work out your own salvation.

There’s a song for everything

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There’s a song for everything.

I said let’s start with head over feet and then ironic.
But you said ironic should go first so it goes:

It’s traffic jam, when you’re already late. It’s meeting the man of your dreams… isn’t it ironic? You treat me like I’m a princess, you’re my best friend…

When I’m mad, you sing mardy bum; in calm and quiet, you’re stuck on the puzzle just like those smitten first days. When we prepare ourselves, you sing La la la la la la I swear I’ll never be happy again! Is this really happening?

I didn’t know we should have taken Pink and Nate seriously. Just give me a reason, why did you vanish like a murderer, Mr. duplicity? Are you thinking of me in the middle of dinner?

Most of the time, when I remember you, I just put my hands in my pocket because we lived, we learned. We loved. I still hope we’ll be coming back, are we? But please, please don’t make me sing for 25 minutes.

Episodes

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A friend understands episodes.

It’s like a deep open wound that periodically chugs liters of blood.
Like asthma that pulls your breath, gotta run for it.
It’s balloon with too much pressure.
It’s rape visiting the victim in dreams.
It’s a ghost nobody else senses.
It’s sudden blur, confusion and pain.
It’s voicelessness while you scream.
It’s release and containment, at once.
It’s wanting to run but having to stay.
It’s the better in you saying, “focus.”

A friend understands episodes, in its utmost urgency.

You’re never coming back

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You said you won’t abandon me like they did, and you’d just pinch my ears instead. But now is the time to let every ounce of hope go, so we can be happy in our own universe. Because the planet you’ve gone to, there is no ride home.

You’re not coming back.

I drown every waking moment into slumber. But in slumber, you’re all I see. I wake up only to the most striking pain in the chest. Do you also think of me?

I get up and tell myself, you’re never coming back.

At my lowest, I wish I can just hold your hand. Wherever I walk, I see you walking with me, towards me, around me. I hear the music of your keys bouncing with every step. Your face gets clearer as you come near.

Your eyes of infinite depth and future; high-bridged nose and dry lips as I last saw them; your hair of exquisite mess; The shirt fitted well on your chest; low-rise jeans and the hole on your pocket, and the bottom one-and-a-half inch fold.

No matter how I conjure your image,
You’re still never coming back.

I remember every single thing that made us amazing.
I remember every single promise that we made.
I will always remember the battle we’ve never won.
Why did you leave without a word?

I know now that you are never ever coming back.

Wiser every mourning

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Create a dreamy afternoon, the sun melting a tangerine sky; on your feet is fine sand becoming finer with every bitter-sweet rendezvous with confusing waves.

The people stare at your open back baring inked skin and no longer toned physique.

They also stare at his piercing eyes of confidence, of holding onto this moment with you. He knows it will go by as fast as you came into his friendly little hometown.

Picture out the night you got there and the bars that you would hop about; the smell of beer and the men who think they’re living the life, and the women who don’t know why they are fucked up.

Draw in your mind the music that will make you stand. And you both will dance because not a pair of eyes could tell that you are victims of time, criminals of the law.

Sculpt very well the touch of his hands as he drags you out to watch the stars he booked just for you. Tonight the clouds take leave to make you fall even more in-love.

Hug him and fear the dawning of the reality. Believe him say that he’ll do something.

Create this dreamy paradise and visit it every night-mare;

and your heart shall become wiser every mourning.

For the psychologically challenged

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A couple of days ago, I had a familiar visitor (again) at the boarding house, and it was starting to manifest as fever and UTI attack. The smarter person in me texted my dad to cook some nice food, sinigang na hipon (how do you translate that? Maybe shrimp soup lol). His reply was “ok,” as usual.

Right when I got home, the fever was gone, together with all the bad feelings. The next day, he dyed my hair (because my mom and sisters can’t), offered to teach me how to drive (this time, a car and not a motorbike; oh and I suddenly remember that he also taught me how to ride a bike), and then got into a muddy fight with this huge crab that he had been feeding the past weeks.

Crab in mud

From the muddy pond

huge crab on plate

To this, on my plate

Do you remember my post, “There’s a place for healing?” Yes, I confirm that there is such a place. If we can just treat our psychological challenges as simple as physical illnesses or allergies, survival and happiness may be closer at hand. Just like there are kinds of weather and substances that trigger allergies, or food that heightens cardiovascular diseases, there are also music and sky colors that make you crawl on the bed and hurt yourself a little bit. And just like there are foods that could prevent cancer, there are also dogs and sounds of birds and the wind that relax your soul.

dog on boardwalk, dog by the pond, dog by the lake

Kobi relaxes on the boardwalk

dog welcome

Shila welcomes me back, all the time.

Dog goodbye

And says goodbye when I leave

What essentially makes you stronger is the knowledge of your weaknesses and limitations. Always remember the components of your healing process.

Join me when you’re strong

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Can’t help but take a photo of this little boy sitting in front of me in the jeep, who had a nice mixture of tired-adult look in his eyes and the i-care-not comfy-ness of a kid.

Don't rush darling, love is a matter of timing.

Don’t rush darling, love is a matter of timing.

I grow strong when you are weak
So can you just be weak?
I’ll be gone before you know it.
So love me before I’m gone.
It could have been the best journeys
of our ironic lives
but the Universe was quick to say no,
and go
your separate ways.

A whole lifetime stretches ahead of us
The road is long before the next.
When you look back for me,
Don’t.
I may be the road you’re walking on,
the light that gives you life,
And the tomorrow that you promised yesterday.
If you’d want to look back for me,
Walk on,
So you may join me when you’re strong.

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