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Threats and other status updates

THREATS, threats, threats... and I am also being threatened to be the take-charge-guy over 125 hectares of rolling terrain like this.... such threats, such burdens of responsibility haven't even caused me to wince, flinch or even blink... I sure do the Demon Hand of wuyiquan but there is the too-evident Hand of God nudging me to parlay the skills I have gained, and the gifts I have been endowed with at birth.... Lord, I am thankful!

Threats... threats... threats... I have been threatened being sent to the navel of the the Philippine geography spread to, uh, do agricultural extension work... in those parts where warlocks and witches and wizards like me can share notes and knowledge, I am being sent like a dragon among wolves... uh this bit of word operates in those parts where a friend has been chosen by his town mates as their representative in Congress... that friend went into the night and left friends (or fiends like me) can carry on his mandated tasks... God's hand is too evident in this sudden turn of events... The word: Mamihlapinatapai; a look between two people that suggests an unspoken, shared desire for one another.

Learned a new word. Aithesis. A capacity to allow the unique living essence in all things to flow through the heart... the know-how to engage in darshan, a Sanskrit word for intimate interface, a communion, a symbiosis.

Picked up another word. Greek "kallos" from which "callus" is derived means beauty, yeah... and such lexicon affirms the beauty of the calluses on my hands... fused with thought, which hurls faster than the 30,000 meters per second light speed, the hand won't even leave a blur of a shadow on the ground...

Furusato... the notion that the land one tills, nurtures for beauty and growth, is one's home... that idea cherished by Japanese farmers-- their government sometimes have to pay them off to effect rice production cutbacks to stabilize prices-- sets them apart... When I see an expanse of barren land hereabouts, I can only think of women aching, the embers in their loins dying out...

Stop and smell the flowers? Don't stop. Smell. Deflower.

Edna Ferber. So Big. Peasant woman grows cabbages. Raises a son who later turns into a stock broker who makes tons of money... The minutiae of details in such a plain-as-dirt life had me enthralled. The devil dwells in the details... And this plainsong of a novel was not about making tons of money but making love, making beauty, making sense, making a difference... These tasks that reflect life as art, art as life I can cherish...
It takes strength to wield grace.

Aah, did she just tell me 180 hectares of rolling terrain in Maragondon town? Tumescence in an instant! Permaculture-- Coffea arabica, Theobroma cacao... Moringa oleifera... my passion for the soil has never waned...

The body English is a bit loud... and yeah, quite lewd... indeed, around 70% of human expression is done not with a stringing of words but with the body entirety...

The late Dr. Jose Protacio Rizal has it in "Noli Me Tangere" that white egret's nests can only be seen through the reflection of still waters.. and whoever keeps such a bird's nest gains the power of invisibility...

It takes one PSI to snap human bone.... this aging Neanderthal who is turning 59 at the end of the month can generate about 10 PSI with a bit of twist of hips and sacral area plus the sinews of his shoulders to snap the neck... or the wrist bone... or you do the math... Pwe-he-he-he! (That's in reaction to the Socrates quote, "No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training.. what a shame it is for man to grow old without ever seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable." )

I was born human.. a male of the species... I cherish art that reflects life, not that which makes a farce or buffoonery of it... as for my sexual preferences or the cocktail of hormones that drive me to drool at. I luv ya, minora!
Around 70% of human expression can be done via body language... read my hips... that's where the lethal blows are hurled from. (This is in reaction to the quote, "It's not that we have more patience as we get older, we just don't give a fuck anymore about pointless drama.")

Mushrooms (uh, fungi have a similar DNA configuration to humans which is why certain shamans get themselves high on mushrooms culled off sacred cow plop) pack bio-available minerals... and taste like meat. Mushroom gathering is done at dawn, right after a night of thunderstorms when all that electricity swashbuckling have hauled down nitrogen off the air and into the ground to nudge mushrooms to poke their heads off the dirt and detritus.. I have culled edible mushrooms among fallen pine needles in Benguet and amid thickets in Batangas.... recently in Cabiao, Nueva Ecija, I told someone not to gather a slew of mushrooms that bore the tell-tale signs of a killer... (This in reaction to a photograph depicting edible mushrooms.)

Yeah... what I do is THANK much much... Each day is a rite of gratitude for just being alive... and kinky! (Reaction to the quip, "Don't think too much. You'll create a problem that wasn't even there in the first place.")

Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus... (Or, love is rich with both honey and venom.) This, in reaction to:"No man stood on truth. They were merely banded together, as usual one leaning on another, and all together on nothing...Just so hollow and ineffectual, for the most part, is our ordinary conversation. Surface meets surface. When our life ceases to be inward and private, conversation degenerates into mere gossip." (Henry David Thoreau, Life Without Principle)

Recent findings hold significance for my habit of crossing of hands-- randori or free style sparring-- with people of equal or greater martial arts skills... tendons and ligaments crossing the shoulder store elastic energy that can be unleashed, "generating the fastest motion the human body produces." I really appreciate this... what makes me human makes me so hideously strong... hurling a swish of atemi smack dead in the lethal points of the jen mai and tu mai meridians of the body... (My preface to the article from, 'How throwing made us human')

Aroid type of lily... bulbs and corms from which lilies shoot up their foliage and flowers represent stored wealth, or money that grows-- not the talent that was buried by the bloke in the New Testament parable who was too faint of heart to plow such talent as seed money... (Foreword to a picture depicting a bright cerise calla lily.)

I'm in the ninth cycle of year 58 that ends on July 30, and starts another first cycle of 40 days to send me soaring... born in the Hour of the Dragon, in the Year of the Green Wood Horse, that's me... (And neither politico nor celebrity has ever sent me a stack of gifts on my birthday... I was born gifted.)

Still soaking of last night's deluge of wet dreams I drift half-awake but... the telephone rings yanking me off the bed to answer it in a piquant voice... an entire rainy season drenched me... or was it an ember of summer? My four-year-old grand daughter was on the line, telling me that it's her first day of kindergarten school and she wants me to know that... Did I fall off the sofa?

A white couple had a black baby. Husband furious, asks wife: "Why is the baby black?" Retorts wife: "We made baby. You hot. I hot. Baby burnt black."

Critical thinking.... common sense.... that's the top missing trait or must-have skill of Filipino job seekers, I just found out today...

The goddess of the household... with our firstborn who gets married in July.... tempus fugit... (She has stacked snapshots of our children beside the telephone at home.... aah, how she loves the children she carried in her womb like treasure chests.... and that ought to tell you, my kids, to visit us more often... food on the house!)

I have always told the late Raul Gonzalez that I married a campus beauty queen who graduated at the top of her class... and that union bore children so bright, so brilliant!

It took a month before the seed-- I got a few from Baguio-- of this so-called cockspur coral tree broke out of its deep slumber in the soil to send forth its shy sprout to greet the sun.... This is a miracle... whatever you sow shall grow... and you shall reap such growth... He who sows dragon's teeth reaps an army he has to contend with....
The grand daughter before the door to our Bulacan abode.... someday she'll be able to ring the bell tied to the nearby Antidesma bunius branch with a crescent kick as her grandfather does each morning...(A picture of my grand daughter is laid out beneath this.)

Wheeee! I got seeds, seeds, seeds of Digitalis purpurea-- yeah, the poisonous but lovely foxglove-- while on a two-kilometer trudge from the Baguio Public Market to the Victory Liner bus terminal... Uh, I was lugging a sickle, a kama sickle from Okinawa, two kilos of organic kintoman rice, a kilo of panutsa sugar, a kilo of ground Arabica coffee, three jars of peanut brittle and eight glass jars of strawberry preserves.... Sure, I travel light.... and travel stems from the word "travail" or birth pains....

So you're in your 20's... and when you get to my age, will your body be another derelict as your mind now is? Someone younger than me that I greeted on his birthday this week wrote me-- he has turned arthritic-- that he envies the blur of kicks I can hurl with both feet, the Fibonacci tattoo of fist blows that I unleash in simulated close quarters combat he could barely imagine... I am not elderly, merely ancient.. I'm not of your time... sorry for not greeting anyone's birthday this week or next week...

If an assemblage of petals falls upon a key, will that softness trigger even a hint of a note struck? This is for all of those who must scream or weep but their mouths are sealed....

This was the owl that gave me a Harry Potter moment on Thursday... paid a visit to the southeast section of our home yard... the Philippine horned owl (Bubo philippensis), endemic to our country... a harbinger of tidings that something in me is welling up to a higher level...

Jeanne Calment of Arles, France, outlived Moses of Biblical times by two years. She lived to the ripe old age of 122! She learned to fence at age 85… rode her bike every day until she turned 100… lived on her own until 110… and smoked cigarettes until she was 117 years old!

Punyesma! I know news editing is mostly spit and polish work to give a semblance of sanity to news reports sent from the field.... On the third news report I am to do the spit-and-polish routine, I spat and nearly choked... sa'n ba nag-aral na eskuwela 'tong news correspondent na 'to, sa National Mental Hospital?

Just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet." (Thus, Franz Kafka wrote... and his words explain why I amble through pastures and grasslands without uttering a word... which explains why I go through the quick-as-a-wink blur of blows in the serene, silent practice of the Demon Hand.)


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