Today's Inspiration -She Said and Kalinga Woman

Aside from the quotation from Babaylan that I posted earlier, here are two more pieces of inspiration for today.

Kalinga woman, circa 1905

Babaylan: Filipinos and the Call of the Indigenous

From the Introduction of Babaylan: Filipinos and the Call of the Indigenous:

"How? How do I retrieve my own memories of indigenous knowledge and indigenous spirituality when colonialism has robbed us of the language with which to speak of the knowledge we still feel in our bodies and in the depths of our Loob? When what we have is the language of the West and the language of a theology that is the language of the West and the language of a theology that is difficult to translate? When we aim to be understood by transnational and diasporic peoples whose engagement with the world is also determined by discourses not of their own making?

...our spirits have need of nurtures, mythic and symbolic, rooted in the soils and souls of primal cultures so that we might have an amulet against pathological forgetting forced on us by modernity...." -Leny Mendoza Strobel

A Day Made of Glass

My homie who is an engineer sent this to me and it blew my mind a little bit. It's like the Jetsons to me. Is this really the time period we are living in?! The visuals of the possibilities were totally making me trip. What a world we live in!

Wonder how much all this would cost for personal use. lol.

Supple as the Wind

"Knowing love, I will allow all things to come and go, to be as supple as the wind and take everything that comes with great courage…Life is right in any case. My heart is as open as the sky."

Sensual Dissonance aka Withdrawal

“As the expressive and sentient landscape slowly faded behind my more exclusively human concerns, threatening to become littler more than an illusion or fantasy, I began to feel –particularly in my chest and abdomen –as though I were being cut off from vital sources of nourishment. I was indeed re-acclimating to my own culture, becoming more attuned to its styles of discourse and interaction, yet my bodily senses seemed to be losing their acuteness, becoming less awake to subtle changes and patterns….

There [Nepal] the air was a thick and richly textured presence, filled with invisible, but nonetheless tactile, olfactory, and audible influences. In the United States, however, the air seemed thin and void of substance or influence…Hence, in America I found myself lingering near wood fires and even garbage dumps –much to the dismay of my friends –for only such an intensity of smells served to remind my body of its immersion in an enveloping medium, and with this experience of being immersed in a world of influences came a host of body memories from my year among the shamans and village people of rural Asia.” –Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous

~

There’s a painting of a beautiful sunset where a person sits on the boat by the shadows of the trees at my friend’s new apartment. The colors are familiar –orange, gold, purple, blue, and pink. I stare at it, letting every part of me travel to those moments where I was the one sitting in that boat, watching the sun, surrounded by warmth, water, and spirits. I breathe in deeply and catch a whiff of the thick island air, half praying that the spirits I encountered will manifest themselves so that I can just remember.

Just let me remember.

A siren squeals loudly outside and a cold gush of air sweeps over me through the window I’m sitting next to and I’m back in New York.

~

Every part of my body wants to remember the Philippines. Every minute back here in the States, I’m afraid I’ll forget it all. I’m afraid that the old images of things that I love will overcrowd the things that I love from my most recent home. I’ve kept myself inside for the past 3 days, subconsciously afraid that overexposure will make me leave it all behind completely. My heart warms at the sight of the New York skyline, but I foolishly fight the warmth I feel, thinking it will make me forget the bundok, the bukid, the dagat, the ilog…lahat –everything.

Like Abram, my nose itches to smell the scents of diesel mixed with heat, dust, and burning garbage of the city or the warm, gentle air of the waters or the clean, crisp air of the mountains. Walking down 139^th, I catch a quick scent of something burning. The familiarity excites me for a brief moment until the cold hits my nostrils with a shock.

My skin roars at the cold –cracked and itchy, screaming for moisture and the natural oil produced by the heat of the islands that kept my sin safe and protected. Granted, I’m not dusty like I was in the PI, but that’s what tabos are for. My hands reach for warm waters to dip into while my toes wiggle in winter boots, desirous of the freedom of tsinellas.

My ears strain for the sounds of birds, crickets, frogs thrumming in the day and the night and the constant chatter of Tagalog. I liked listening to people talk, trying to figure out what they’re saying and being happy when I could get the gist of it. I liked hearing the women gossip and the men guffaw. It always made me smile. Instead, I hear sirens, trucks, and loud voices bantering in English. I guess that’s all right too.

Meanwhile, my tongue trips over both English and Tagalog. I find myself eagerly chatting with my parents about what I experienced in the Philippines and what needs to be done at the house, but shying away from too much unnecessary chatter with other folks, afraid that falling back into my old gregariousness will signal a clutter in the mental space that I had just spent four months clearing. The space for Tagalog is even more limited now that I’m back home. I want to drop Tagalog into my sentences with friends, the Starbucks girl, the waiter at Queen Sheeba, but I can’t. I mean, I could, but you know…it wouldn’t make sense.

My eyes get tired from the screen -staring at photos from my journey over and over again. They long for the bright, burning sun and the green of plants and trees that I would wake up to. I look for Filipino faces all around me, but there are few. Instead, I’m met with the sight of snow, bare trees, and gray pavement. The connection to earth blocked by the concrete weights. Driving into Harlem, I’m shocked to process the sight of other brown people, not just Filipinos –Dominican flags, Black faces, Central Americans. "Oh my GOD!! A Black person!!" I scream at Leigh while she shakes her head at my weirdness. (I probably saw like 8 while I was in the PI. And yes, I was counting.) When’s the last time I saw a Latino…not on Facebook?

~

I look back at the painting longing to let myself be transported again. But it takes so much energy and I’m here now. I can’t always wish for there when I’m meant to be here, now can I?

Anyway, it’s all stored in my cellular memory. Any day now, it will all come back to me.

The Spell of the Sensuous

Throughly enjoying this read right now!!

"Humans are tuned for relationship. The eyes, the skin, the tongue, ears, and nostrils -all are gates where our body receives the nourishment of otherness. This landscape of shadowed voices, these feathered bodies and antlers and tumbling streams -these breathing shapes are our family, the beings with whom we are engaged, with whom we struggle and suffer and celebrate...The color of the sky, the rush of waves -every aspect of the earthly sensuous could draw us into a relationship fed with curiosity and spiced with danger. Every sound was a voice, every scrape or blunder was a meeting -with Thunder, with Oak, with Dragonfly. And from all of these relationships our collective sensibilities were nourished."

-David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous

PI Day 33 -Crossing Boundaries in Cotabato

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PI Day 35 -These Dreams Are Real

When I was younger I would look up at the purple, orange, yellow, and pink shadows of the clouds and imagine angels, saints, and other spirits working, creating, living, looking down at us while smiling, laughing, frowning, shaking their heads –just there.

I’d sit in front of my house and watch the willow branches float in the breeze while the creek water flowed by. My young spirit knew the gravity of my surroundings, felt gratitude for them and recognized there was more to them than cells, bark, leaves, oxygen, hydrogen, etc.

Books about the saints were some of my favorites because they always revealed how the supernatural could connect to and manifest itself in human life.

In my teen years, I began to experience paralyzing shocks of electric energy through and around my body. Not knowing what they were, I grew to fear them thinking that some evil was trying to hurt me.

Good or bad, God, spirits, angels, saints, ancestors, nature, miracles –they have all been a part of my everyday life. They have always been there: around me, pushing me, pulling, me, watching me, guiding me, allowing me to be free. I’d prayed to them, talked to them, confided in them, ignored them but I’d never encountered them in the flesh except for those precious moments in the Mass.

That changed with my visit to a Maguindanao community in Cotabato City, our first stop of the Tribal Tour. During our stay there, I experienced the supernatural with a force and a light I had never felt before.

~

In Cotabato City, we would partake in the Ipat every night of our stay. It is a traditional healing and cleansing ritual of the Maguindanao tribe. Ipat is translated to "to take care,” and it was an ideal beginning to our journey through Mindanao. The Ipat, similar to a retreat in my experience, was an opportunity for us to cleanse ourselves and free our minds of the weight of everything in our lives in order to re-approach the good and the challenges in our lives and begin again.

Traditionally, royal Ipats are 14 days. Ours was much shorter but no less powerful. On our first day, we learned what might happen during the Ipat. The shaman, Kaka/Bapa Maugan would surely be taken over by a spirit and we were not to be afraid. He would be an important mediator between the ancestors and ourselves. Any one of us, if we were open portals, could also be taken and we were directed to try not to fight the energy that would move through our bodies. We would receive help if necessary.

My nerves tingled with both fear and excitement -excitement at the prospect of coming face to face with the ancestors and with other spirits, but fear with the possibility of being taken. I could only think, “What if I were faced with a spirit that wanted to hurt me? What if a spirit took me so hard I couldn’t come back?” Those fears were all I’d ever been led to think of when it came to the manifestation of the supernatural. In Cotabato, though, I was continuously forced to face those fears and learned of the expansiveness of the possibilities that God was showing me.

~

That evening, we walked to the home of the datu (chieftan) hosting the Ipat, passing by the river through the poor bahay cubo in Barangay Tamontaka. The only light came from the young men’s flashlights and the full, glowing moon. It was eerie but beautiful and I could feel my stomach churning.

Barangay Tamontaka by day

Our path through the Barangay

The traditional flags and decor marking the Ipat had transformed the small home. We walked in greeted by the curious faces of young people and the firm, handsome faces of Kaka Maugun and his right hand and adopted son Abraham. Maugun smoked a cigarette while unabashedly assessing us. I felt see through. Later during our visit, Abraham would tell us that he could smell that something special was going to happen as we were walking toward the house.

Ipat flags decorating the house

Kaka Maugun, Sata, Abraham, and one of the young men

The small room where the whole family slept was where the alter, for lack of a better term, was set up. The walls were covered in colorful traditional cloths, the colorful boat of Bantugan (one of the first Magi ancestors) which served as one of the physical portals of the spirits hung from the ceiling, food offerings were set on the floor, houses of the male and female spirits stood filled with clothing, shields, swords, and scarves for them to wear upon arrival.

Ipat alter underneath the Boat

Offerings

Clothes for the Spirits

We sat towards the back of the room, almost all of us hanging back in anticipation of the next 3-4 hours. After a while, the kulintang, the ancient tonal gongs began playing and Kaka Maugun began the ritual using amber as incense to cleanse and bless the space, all of us participating, and the boat itself. We had been told once the boat was swung, the spirits were called and would come with that first movement of invitation. He swung the boat, laid down underneath the boat while Abraham covered him in a sheer, jeweled scarf of yellow calling the water spirits.

Swing the Boat

As spirits took people, one by one, my skin burned with the blood rushing through my body as it happened. I was frightened but didn’t want to be. Soon, there was chanting in ancient Maguindanaon language and Abraham began talking with the female spirit that had manifested itself. It was a twin spirit who hadn't visited in a very long time. She rose and began dancing. She spoke to us (as translated by Abraham and our local guide Faisal) and was so happy to be here with us. Towards the end of the night she moved outside of the house and began dancing around the yard and the two bamboo poles that stood high and acted as another physical portal for the spirits. We watched her dance and I began to weep. My whole life had led up to this point. My study of history has become so much more than mere intellectual/academic pursuit and this meeting with the ancestors was more than I ever hoped to find, understand, or experience.

My mother's words rang in my head, "God created this just for you" and I cried with the truth of the words, the blessings and love that rained/reigned down. I watched the spirit dance. She grasped our hands, saying it was time for her to say goodbye, but she didn't leave because she didn’t want to go just yet. When we clasped hands in farewell, my nerves tingled on contact and the energy shot down my arms. This was one of my mothers. I was face to face with her. It was unreal. I sent messages of thanks and love to her and to God in my heart and spirit. Inside, I begged her to stay. We had just met, but she eventually left the physical world. With that, the first night of ipat ended -all of us exhausted by that first heavy encounter.

I couldn’t sleep thinking of all the times I had encountered spirits in my life, all the fear that I felt at their coming, the images of people taken that night, the transformations that happened. I was still afraid despite the blessing I had encountered. The people in the group were unbelievably supportive and stood by me every step of the journey. They, along with the rest of the community and the spirits themselves taught me not to be afraid.

~

As we walked through the knee high waters of high tide the next night, I felt the same mixture of fearful and excited anticipation as we walked to the house. The moon was pulling the water close to us just as it was pulling the spirits of the ancient boat closer to us. The water moved briskly and pulled water lilies down stream as we carefully navigated through mud and water. I prayed to God and the spirits; told them, half forcing the thoughts into the universe that I wanted this. I did, I really did, I was just so scared of the manifestations. In some ways it's like the fear of fully loving, the fear of being completely taken over by the other and losing self. How do you let go, love, and remain true to self in a healthy way? A question we've all faced.

The ritual began again, the kulintang, amber, and boat opening the portal. This time Maugun was covered in red for the earth/air spirits. The ancient chanting began and another female spirit was manifested. She danced. It seemed like a celebration. She came to each one of us, touched us, asking us to dance. She pulled me to my feet. I didn't know what to do, how to dance. I was too conscious. I couldn't tell if I was being taken but she wanted me to rise and dance with her and the others.

I closed my eyes and started moving. I let my rushing thoughts fall away and closed my eyes to shut my self-consciousness out. My head felt heavy, my body swayed fluidly with a weight that wasn't all my own. An energy different than any of the electricity I've ever felt before rushed through my limbs and forced me to dance. Eyes closed, I felt the female spirit hand me two scarves to dance with. I swayed and moved in a way that was my own but with a physical rigorousness I've never ever felt. The energy rushed and rushed and rushed and I recognized my true self in the expansive burst that brought together all of the smaller, disconnected sensations I've ever fleetingly felt.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and realized I was myself. I was conscious, but my movements were still being influenced by whatever had come into me. I tried to balance my consciousness with the spirit so that I wouldn't completely snap out of the trance that I was experiencing. I watched for others while I danced. Two friends were experiencing pain. I directed my energies and my dancing towards them. One was on the floor crying. My arms moved towards my friend moving with the chant in my head: “take away the pain, give it to me, take it away.” As I motioned towards my friend, tried to pull away the negative energy, and prayed for peace, I felt a burning ball rush into my body through my feet and upwards to my abdomen. The ball of pain/energy settled and contracted in my stomach as I pulled more and more energy from her and into myself. It raged.

My other friend was crying and stiff. I tried to pull negative energy from them but realized I couldn't. It wasn't letting me or it was more than I could hold/handle/take on. Similar to my tendency in life to take on too much of others' burdens I was being told that this one wasn't for me to carry. Instead of taking I sent what energy and love that I could in my thoughts and my movements. Eventually, the spirit motioned for us to sit. They would be leaving. She left with the same farewell as the spirit from the previous evening, hands clasped in between one another's -her hand, my hand, her hand, my hand. Everyone had been taken. The ritual closed.We were spent and crumpled against the walls of the room and stared off or at one another in exhaustion.

That night, something had changed. Before that, people from our group and folks from the community had eyed each other curiously, them more guardedly, we more self consciously. We formed a bond that evening and looked at each other differently after that. Though we still had trouble communicating verbally, we exchanged smiles and loving gazes with more understanding than before.

The smile that changed it all.

Sharing a pomegranate after the dance.

Sweetness

Air, one of the young ones who always watched out for me

3 Generations of Shamans. 3 Generations of Mad Love.

~

During the last night I was a little more ready but still anxious. As we waded through water again, I prayed my Hail Mary's and told the spirits that I wanted this. I wanted to be able to share my gratitude and my joy with the spirits and with God. My life and my joy was a testament to all of the challenges and heartbreak I'd been through and I wanted to celebrate them in this space with my ancestors. They were my reason for being here.

The ritual began again and I was mesmerized as a female spirit was manifested. As the female spirit chanted to us, people around me started trancing out. I closed my eyes and felt the kulintang move me. Tita Alleluia had said that for everybody, it's the sound of the kulintang that causes our spirits to become open. Before this, I had never fully understood the kulintang. Seems like I never really heard it until Cotabato. The sacredness coursed through my body. My head fell back with the weight of the music and I started to sway while my consciousness become cloudy. I grabbed my friend's hand as a warning and began to sway and shook convulsively. One of the shamans directed people around me to assist. I felt friends rubbing my arms, hands, legs, and feet trying to soothe the energy through and out of me. They let me lay down as I continued to shake and convulse. I arched off the ground and gulped air in ecstasy as friends continued to help. I fought to move and to free myself and kept moving. I don't know how long it was until I came back but little by little I was able to control my own movements, blinked my eyes and began to sit up. Alleluia gave me a huge hug and a kiss as I came back to life, as if she was proud of me and my ability to be open, unafraid, and to let it take me completely.

As I watched others come and go I listened to the music and cherished it. Soon, I felt myself being taken again, in tune with the music. I grabbed Alleluia's malong to let her know. Onlookers who had been taking care of us and watching, particularly some of the younger men were alarmed when they noticed my eyes dropping and my body swaying again. The Ipats were communal like that, everybody watching out for who would be taken so that nobody would get hurt by the sudden movements of spirits flowing in and out. As I saw the look of concern in their eyes as I began to go, I simply smiled to let them know it was okay.

As I shook, convulsed and swayed I watched the spirit and directed all my energy towards her and God letting them know how much I loved them, thanking for them for the opportunity to show my gratitude for my life and all the people in it. There have been so many times where I wanted to get down on my knees and bow to the floor at the alter in Church out of gratitude and surrender to all I've been given, both the good and bad. I had been given my chance to lay prostrate before the universe that evening.

In Like Water for Chocolate, the character John Brown says, "If a strong emotion suddenly lights the candles we carry inside ourselves, it creates a brightness that shines far beyond our normal vision and then a splendid tunnel appears that shows us the way that we forgot when we were born and calls us to recover our lost divine origin. The soul longs to return to the place it came from..." While there were no tunnels or candles for me, my soul was for certain reconnecting with its origins.

~

On our last walk to the Ipat grounds

The next day was the closing of the Ipat where we would send off the spirit with offerings on two boats. We woke around 5am. There were many ceremonial rituals and formalities that had to be performed -many of which were done underneath the hot sun in formal Maguindanao costume. Initially, I slumped with the discomfort. But as we practiced the ceremonies, I was reminded of the repetitiveness that many people complain of during Mass, the boredom and disconnection that they feel. Similar to the Mass, these were all preparations for the supernatural encounters we were so blessed to experience. I straightened and changed my attitude towards the ceremonies, making an effort to give them their proper austerity.

Kulintang Music During Ipat Ceremony

Cleansing the offerings

Cleansing and Blessing the Offerings

Chicken Dugo

Blessed for Our Travels

Offerings on the Boat

Sagayan dancer waiting for the heart of palm

The women wait for the men to bring the offerings in

The warriors

After performing Baptismal ceremonies for the community, it was time to call back the spirits so that we could say good bye to them, send them off, and formally close the Ipat. Kaka Maugun swung the boat to call the spirits one last time. The male spirit that came danced with strength and grace. With the beginning of the kulintang, I swayed as the male spirit performed last rites outside. When we returned to the alter, I stayed as conscious as possible in order to participate in the closing ceremonies. The boys who watched looked over and I simply smiled again letting know I was fine and they smiled back. I love those kids.

Though I began breathing heavily and shaking, I was able to rise when we were all called to place our hands on the boat and swung it 14 times. We placed all our intentions and pains on the boat and sent them off.

Gotta make sure his tubaw is on properly!

Prepping the babies for their Baptism

All too soon, it was time for the spirits to finally say goodbye. The song he chanted was the most beautiful I'd ever heard -a sweet good bye chant that you could feel in your soul. One of the shamans translated for us. The spirit was saying goodbye and that it was time for him to leave. Of course, I cried. I tried to hold it in tight as he told us that he had enjoyed himself with us -this good bye was the saddest he had felt in the longest time. Individually, we sat in front of him and clasped hands with him as our final farewell. When it was my turn, I sat and our hands touched. He swayed his head and body with the sadness he felt. As I heard his words, I began sobbing uncontrollably and bowed my head over our joined hands. It was as if I was a child hysterical with the thought of not seeing a parent again when they have to go away for a little while. He was crying too and continued singing with his head close to mine. Many people were watching me fall apart and I tried to pull myself together. When I began to pull my hands away so the next person could go, he increased the pressure on my hands so that I couldn't leave just yet. We sat and swayed together like that for a long time as I tried to control my sobs and he continued to sing. We finally let go of one another and I moved away with my scarf covering my face as my sobs eventually subsided.

Tita Alleluia was last to say goodbye. He wouldn't let go of her either and bowed low over her head, maybe thanking her for bringing us here. They both cried. Even the men behind Maugun, the other shamans cried with our sorrowful goodbyes. It had been a joyful Ipat. Finally, he told us that he didn't know if he would ever see us again, or how long it would be til we could all be together and kept repeating how painful this was for him. We would see one another in our dreams, though and he reminded us that we all came from the same God. As he said goodbye for the last time, my heart and spirit again begged him not to leave, but of course he had to. He laid down to let go and as the kulintang rang one last time, his spirit left us. The energy in the room died quickly and stilled with his departure.

~

In those few days, my life had changed. God had given me everything I had ever searched for, everything that I had ever consciously and subconsciously loved at my core, in order to guide my steps forward. I had peeked in on those spirits working, smiling, and watching. I was given back my willows, the wind, and the water.

Everyday since then I’ve thought about the Ipat in Tomontanka. When I find myself missing Cotabato, my family, myself, I think of the Mothers and Fathers who lovingly showed themselves to us to offer protection and to be protected. Then, I drift off to sleep hoping to see them in my dreams, just like he said.

We will never ever forget these people or this place.

I'll be back!