Just another false alarm
hope
as always sprang eternal
but alas
just another false alarm
While love
is surely present
as the song would have it
sometimes love
just ain’t enough
sad
but true
yet another false alarm
Hope
sprang eternal
and still my heart weeps
at the thought
of you and i
what we could have been
together
Sad but true
alas
yet another false alarm
All I am is a voice in the wilderness.
(And I know I could. Always be good. To one who’ll watch over me.)
Am in the process of birthing an album. Entitled The Angelsong.
Part vocal, part instrumental. Sadly, my own literal voice doesn’t quite appear on this album. There’re a slew of guest singers who sing songs I’ve written.
Of course, this album has its concomitant heart stuff.
Am in love.
For logistical reasons, I won’t divulge her identity.
Suffice it to say that…
I’m still standing. And I still believe in love.
Friends who’ve seen me lately have said that my eyes sparkle and that I’m visibly blooming.
Yes, I still stand. And i shall always believe in love.
Find your diamond, hone it tirelessly, and the Universe conspires.
Even now, when my hands haven’t been performing as they’ve been trained to, i know this to be true. Even now — when i hear the notes oh-so-clearly, feel the spirit filling every fiber, but am saddled with a spinal injury which leaves me with almost no tactile sensation in my hands and greatly lessened digital dexterity — even now i would stake my life on my faith that this is true.
When your soul sings The Song, The Universe conspires.
And nothing can ever stand in its way.
Love is the absence of fear. Fear none, love all.
Isang malaking…
WOOF!
c",)
It’s really all about angles.
When life seems shitty, it’s often about viewing things from the right angle. When the right angle is found, things become clear.
My hands haven’t been functioning at full capacity the past couple of months. They’ve been… well… fucked.
So the past couple of months have been spent searching for the proper angle from which to view this present wrinkle.
Earlier tonight, i sounded a tad less shitty at our regular thursday night Chakik’s gig.
Part of it was a triumph of will.
Where the mind leads, the universe follows.
I took solos on a couple of tunes, most notably on an uptempo "Cherokee". The past couple of months have been spent in abject terror of uptempo playing. Fast playing has been a distant, impossible dream. A fleet mind hamstrung by geriatric fingers.
Earlier tonight, on "Cherokee", i went deep into the zone. Focused on breath, ki, intent.
One-pointed focus. The same one-pointed focus which, when called upon, has kept me alive in life-threatening situations.
And wonder of wonders, roughly 70% of the notes intended came out of the instrument.
Hooyah!
Part of tonight’s qualified triumph was also a matter of planning ahead. Taking the past coupla months’ experience into account, i know what my hands will NOT do (no matter how strong, how focused, how clear the intent). So i just avoided the obvious pitfalls of execution and went with stuff i knew my hands MIGHT do.
That in itself is, of course, rather frustrating. That there’s quite a bit my hands can normally do but in recent past have simply refused to do is a bitter pill to swallow.
But it also forces me to realize just how capable my hands really are under normal circumstances. Makes me appreciate the level of skill i have in fact attained… have worked damn hard for 21 years to attain!
Forces me to view my own capacities in a new light.
When my hands get back to normal, perhaps i won’t be so quick to judge myself as harshly as i often have. Perhaps i’d've learned to be kind to myself as well.
Immodest as it may sound, given how i’ve sounded the past couple of months, if i could hear myself play the way i normally do, i’d be fuckin’ impressed.
Perhaps that’s part of the lesson this present wrinkle presents.
Tonight’s tale doesn’t end there.
At gig’s end, as i walked to my car, everything around me was music.
Skarlet’s footsteps were punctuations, backbeats of a bluesy 12/8 shuffle. The rustle of an unseen car’s wheels on a wet pavement were a quick whip up a fretboard.
On the drive to a 24 hour internet cafe, car horns were jazzy big band horn hits.
And now, as i write this my fingers tap out a Steve Gadd cadence on the computer keyboard.
It’s all good. It’s all music.
Jedi Dog saga continues.
This current episode seems to be The Empire Strikes back, where Luke Skywalker lost his hand to Darth Vader in an epic lightsaber duel.
Return of The Jedi will soon follow.
And when my bionic hands again meld with Nimfa Banocnoc the lightsaber, even a sith lord will bow to the unstoppable force of love. Palpatine will be cast into the pit.
And all the little dowggie ewoks will have one heck of a party.
Love, light & laughter.
Woof!
c",)
… more like debilitated Dowggie, actually.
My hands haven’t been functioning right for the past couple of months. Have been playing at roughly 30% of my capacity. Severe loss of dexterity, strength and fine motor control — in both hands. Also an almost complete loss of tactile sensitivity in both hands.
Makes playing the guitar well a distant, impossible dream.
If i suffered the loss of one hand’s full capacity, i’d still be able to find ways to work around it and still sound ok. But to lose both hands, and nearly all the skill 21 years of gigs and concentrated practise have accumulated….
Sigh.
Doing my best to be a brave dowggie.
But this is possibly the most terrifying thing i’ve ever had to face thus far.
The problem, i’m told by the two doctors i’ve consulted, lies in cervical vertebrae four, five and six… and the discs in between them. As i understand it, it’s a case of slipped discs, displaced/compacted vertebrae and constricted spinal cord and nerves.
Been undergoing rehabilitation therapy for a month. Also been taking vitamin B pills.
But it still feels like it’s been getting worse every day. Feel like i’m slowly losing the use of my hands bit by bit with each passing day.
Virtually a cripple, guitar-wise.
Sigh.
Why now?
Sigh.
Well, it’s not killing me. So it must be making me stronger.
I drink from whatever cup God gives me.
I seek only to do God’s work. And doing God’s work would be so much easier if i had my hands back (and sounded like me again).
But i drink from whatever cup God gives me.
Your will be done, God, not mine.
Glory to God in the highest.
Not a snowflake falls out of place.
God’s will be done.
c",)
If GMA is allowed a SONA, perhaps i may be allowed a SODA — State of The Dowggie Address.
I started the year 2007 with a lament. Now here’s the state of the dowggie at the year’s midpoint.
Two thoughts recur.
One is something my mother taught me — when a pool of paint is black, often a mere drop of white is all that’s needed to whiten the whole pool.
(The converse is also true, but that’s a whole other story.)
The second recurring thought is: those in virtue of the way need fear no evil.
The Universe conspires.
Love is the absence of fear.
Enter without fear.
Love is here.
Always here.
Thank you, Angel. Thank you, God. Thank you, Universe.
Mwah.
Love, light & laughter to all.
c",)
Whew. To busy livin’ la vida lulu lately to write about it.
Been breathless the past three months.
Gigging, teaching, parenting. Achieving and maintaining balance between those three activities takes all my meager dowggie powers to handle.
Major shake-ups in life and The Force these past months. Major changes. Also a stronger sense of center.
A stronger sense of a dowggie’s place in the scheme of things. Not to mention a greater sense of the responsibility attached to whatever power(s) clarity accrues.
The theme continues to be — Share the gift, share the love.
Truth be told, the effort sometimes seems beyond human capacity.
Thank The Tao i can be more dowggie than human.
;-p
Seriously, though… i can now vouch for the veracity of the saying, "those who would give light must endure burning".
Both my hands have been suffering a strange sort of glitch. I’ll spare you the details.
Suffice it to say that there are nights when my hands don’t function quite the way they should and i have to rethink all my fingerings while in the grip of the moment.
Knowing where i have to land at a given moment, i end up having to plan a few beats ahead. Manage to pull it off most of the time. But still… it makes what is already a quixotic quest that much harder.
Well… as they say, God/The Universe doesn’t give you what you can’t handle. While appreciative of the compliment, i do also sometimes wish God/The Universe didn’t have quite so high an opinion of my capacity.
;-p
The bright side, though, is… stars and heavenly forces seem to be aligning in such a way as to give this li’l dowggie’s career a major push in a positive direction.
Local legends/personal musical heroes, who shall remain nameless at this point, have pledged their help in this venture soon to be birthed. It’s a big deal to me. Very touching. Tearfully so.
Thank you, Angel. Thank you, Universe. Thank you, God.
The time is ripe to share The Angelsong with the world.
Time to share the gift, share the love.
God willing.
Share the gift, share the love.
Yes, i’m willing to pay the price. Yes, i shall endure the burning. Yes, i shall drink from the cup.
Yes, i shall do Your will.
All i am is a vessel. Take me and do with me as thou wilt.
Yes.
Thank you.
May Your song be heard.
All honor and glory be to God in the highest.
Love, light, laughter,
c",)
Played with two masters last Friday night. 25 May 2007.
First with Tots Tolentino. Trio gig with Tots and Ed "Sarge" Carino. At Segafredo, Greenbelt 2. Two sets of incredibly intense magic.
Tots was Bird-like, godlike.
Wow.
Scared me to death then brought me back to life. Sent me soaring. Perhaps higher than i’ve ever been. Glimpsed heaven.
Then with Mon David. At the Rockwell Tent. Makati Jazz Festival.
Alex "Sugar" Fidel on drums. THE Simon Tan on upright bass. Mark Lopez on keys. Some funny-looking bald guy on guitar.
Mon David as spiritual Kapampangan savant.
Shamanistic.
Hair was let down and ego layed aside.
Self disappeared.
Spirit was invoked.
The purest of energy flowed.
Beautiful.
Pure.
Loving.
Wow.
Thank you for the gift, universe. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Mwah.
Light to the universe. Share the gift, share the love.
Kite dancing with Heaven.
I weep at the beauty of Home.
c",)
I guess most people would’ve said that tonight (May 3, 2007) was the night of a full moon. Personally, i think tonight was the first night of a waning moon. ‘Twas was still big, bright and gravid enough to be mistaken for a full one, though.
In any case, long shall i remember the third night of May 2007 as one of lucid Zen.
Had quite a magical drive to the gig.
Began with what could’ve been a mind-fogging event. As i was backing our car out of the garage, wind blew gate into left front fender, denting it severely.
If i hadn’t just come from a deep 45 minute jazz-zen sit, this fender bender might have dislodged my center. By the Tao’s grace, however, my center was maintained.
Sighed mournfully and spat a small mouthful of curses, then assessed the damage and made a quick calculation of likely fiscal dimage.
Hmmm… sige lang. Kaya ‘yan. Do-able. Annoying unexpected expense which could easily have been avoided with a tad more mental presence on our helper’s part. But do-able nonetheless.
And not worth parting with my center for.
Went back into the zone.
One point. Pure awareness. Awareness of awareness itself.
Awareness extended silver tendrils into everything around it.
Mind was Universe and Universe, Mind.
Traffic from Paranaque to Pasig was unexplainably sparse. The few dense vehicular thickets encountered were easily threaded through. Any knots seen were unravelled easily.
It really is true. Mind is universe. And universe, mind.
The calm beauty of it — when truth is gleaned, universe reflects state of mind.
Calm mind equals calm surroundings. Unknotted mind witnesses knot-free world.
Each moment is as the consciousness which perceives it.
* * *
Music played at the gig was equally magical. Everyone — drummer, bassist, guitarist, vocalist — was on the same page.
"Ang sarap, ah!", i exclaimed.
"May libog," Skarlet nodded.
"Mainit ang sabaw ng lahat," Alex the drummer proclaimed.
The Simon Tan nodded sagely and beamed, beatific.
Pregnant kensho moon shone overhead, bathing mind and universe in nirvanic light.
* * *
An arrogant samurai once accosted a Zen monk and challenged him thus — "Hey! Old man! Is there really a Heaven and a Hell?"
Samurai drew his sword, meaning to cow Zen monk into acknowledgement of warrior mind’s superiority over no-mind.
"Here, open the gates of hell," Zen monk replied as samurai brandished his sword threateningly.
Kensho pierced maya’s veil.
Samurai self dissolved. Awareness awoke.
"Here, open the gates of heaven," the monk said as sword was lowered.
* * *
Mind wields sword. Mind is sharp, sword cuts.
Mind is clear, sword is irrelevant.
Mind wields car.
Clear mind, no traffic
Mind wields musical instrument.
Mind is one with all, mundane world disappears.
Music sings angelsong to a kensho moon.
Moon shines overhead.
Woof.
My guardian angel, whom i fondly call The Angel Shprengtot, has been singing to me a lot in recent weeks.
Two sundays ago, i saw some beggars in front of The Manila Cathedral. One set of beggars included a mother and an infant who was ostensibly her child. Madonna and child archetype.
Struck a chord in me — Fm-M7 (6/9), by the sound of it.
Being neither naive nor foolish, i decided against giving them money.
Money given to street beggars often goes to crime syndicates. The children begging "mothers" often brandish in the faces of the unsuspecting are often not really the beggars’ offspring, just children farmed out and exploited to push mercy and guilt buttons in the naive and sheltered.
I instead elected to buy the beggars some lunch. Went to a Chow King fastfood restaurant across the road and bought them some food.
While waiting for the food i’d ordered, i noticed another street waif — an undernourished boy sporting fresh scars on both arms and one leg — outside Chow King.
Dowggie senses perceived a battered but defiant dignity in the boy-child. "Yes, i’m dirt poor, his eyes seemed to say. "But i will not grovel. I’m still standing, and i will fight to the bitter end."
Struck another chord in me.
Bb7#11, to venture a musiko’s educated guess.
Bought another pack of Chow Fan rice.
Gave the meals to James Dean’s reincarnation (or younger brother) outside Chow King and to Madonna and Child outside The Manila Cathedral.
I then noticed the infant’s bare, lice-infested, scarred head and his unshod baby feet. Gave the "mother" my one remaining face towel. Couldn’t bear the thought of an infant subjected to the elements that way.
Against the tenets of good sense and street-honed cynicism, i pulled out my wallet and handed over some money to buy the child some slippers.
I know, i know… the money was as good as in the hands of criminal syndicates at that point. But f_ck it…
The Angelsong keening in my ears at that point would not be denied.
The Angel Shprengtot sang to me in those beautiful moments.
I kinda mean that literally.
What i call The Angelsong is a high, keening tone that resonates… and my soul is as a guitar string quivering in the hands of The Sacred Samting.
Random acts of kindness seem to trigger The Angelsong.
It’s what we hear when we eschew what is easy and choose to do what is right.
It’s the song which drove Don Quixote to tilt at windmills. The song that fueled both Cyrano de Bergerac’s witty swordplay and his rapier wit.
The song which bids wolves to bay at the moon.
To hear The Angelsong is to glimpse home. The home from whence we come. The home to which we return.
(… and come and return and come and return….)
Home is, of course, the Cmaj9#11 to which the aforementioned Fm-M7(6/9) and Bb7#11 resolve.
Cmaj7 moves to a Gm7 - C7 cadence, which then leads to an Fmaj7, which in turn morphs bittersweetly into Fm-M7 then pirouettes into Bb7#11 before leading back to Cmaj7#11.
Tension - resolution. Birth - death. Resolution - tension. Death - rebirth.
Love is the absence of fear.
Fear none, love all.
All is one. One is all.
Praise be.
Such is The Song of The Universe.
But if you meet Coltrane on the road, kill him!
Love, light, peace,
c",)
