abashet/

abandon shet/ est. 1996. copyright Gang Badoy.

[gangbadoy]

I have two grandmothers, both approaching their 80s when I was born. Both died way before I turned 10.

One died in the summer, in Dumaguete, one died in a Quezon City hospital within the weeks of the usual Philippine school year sem break.

I experienced being carried over a coffin (Filipinos know this "pamahiín") and with the other lola they buried my Mickey Mouse shirt with her; I learned afterwards that they did this so the dead ancestor won't "visit" the living (?).

It's a foggy montage, really, both deaths. All I know was their names were Consorcia (maternal: Consorcia is derived from Latin origins. The name means association.) and Corazon. (paternal: Corazon is Spanish for the 'heart.') It was also the two times I saw my parents as more than 'my parents,' they, too, were children, and they cried, too, for their Mommies. I don't think I ever saw either of my parents cry - save for during those funerals. What an education regarding associations of the heart.

And also- how serendipitous that both lolas died while there was no school so I didn't have to go to school the next day and pretend to be not sad. It's the pretending that gets most of us in the end. The fatigue from the daily emotional micro-faking is what wears us down.

So, when we chance upon spaces for (even just momentary) raw honesty, we must enter it. We must sit in living rooms with others, who won't judge us unfairly - ESPECIALLY when we find a couch where with our selves we can sit comfortably and accept every molecule that constitutes us. Liking all parts of us that came, too, from our grandmothers, the women who bore our parents. The wombs - from all the things we like about ourselves: the waves and particles, the dark, the large, and all things bright - were formed.

GBC/

651pm TUE 24Nov 2020

Project: Steady

[gangbadoy]

I have a story! Okay, it's not really a story, it's just a something. Leading up to my parents' deaths last year, I (unknowingly, or perhaps SO in-denial-knowingly) started to wear a lot more white.

A year after my Mom, and 3 months after my Pop, I decided to plant dye most (actually, parang all) my white shirts.

Then, on the first day of the year, I ironed them all.

We are sensory creatures, we need to see, touch, smell our own rites of passage. Which is why we need to see ribbons of smoke, fruits on our table, tiny controlled flames, fabric turn other than white; something burn.

So I get to say, "and on the third day my shirts rose again."

Let's not forget the feeling of might we give our selves when we create rituals only the senses understand; we need to soothe the grieving that resides in the real estate zone of our brain that has no words.

1008am FRI

3 Jan 2025

[gangbadoy]

If one day they ask me about everything sapient, incisive, dialectic, and astute in my life, I will just mention my father.

I remain his daughter - grateful, affectionate, proud.

Justice Anacleto Deles Badoy, Jr

19 Oct 1932 - 14 Sep 2024

[gangbadoy]

"I have done nothing the last twelve years but wait for myself be myself again."

(paraphrasing Georgia O'Keefe regarding summer.)

*******

I have under my belt 100 teacher training hours of "Restorative Yoga for the Elderly." I made it my excuse to live and study in Singapore some time in 2011 under the guise of wanting to guide my Mom to gently stretch in her old age. Her Alzheimer's was detected early so I think (looking back) this was my mad scramble to fight the anxiety that came with my Mom's diagnosis. Pattern shows that my default coping mechanism is to study. 🤷🏻‍♀️

She was still all right then, save for a worrisome fall (which prompted the revealing brain scan) and the usual forgetfulness that comes with being a Mom (aka kulit) - she was definitely still A1, tiptop, sharp as they come.

Most of us kids went to Singapore with her that year, my brothers to catch the F1 in Sepang, and the girls stayed in our Ate's apartment. Mom made us walk and walk and walk and walk around Singapore because walking was her thing. She super enjoyed wading around that fake beach shoreline in Vivo City's rooftop - when she waved at me to join her, and I said, "Is the water chlorinated?" She rolled her eyes at me - without saying a word she commanded me to take my shoes off, put them aside, and wade shin deep across a mall pond to her side.

We (again) walked and walked and walked in circles, mall-water sloshing the tips of our jeans chatting about real beaches we've been to.

Even though she thought it silly that I was studying superslow yoga in a Buddhist temple she still humored me by doing the stretches I taught her. She was often distracted and impatient and would say "let's just have coffee and chat" instead. When I was done with the teacher training course, I showed her my certificate and she asked me solemnly if I converted to Buddhism; it turned out she was worried that I was going to that Buddhist campus everyday for faith reasons. I assured her I wasn't and slightly reprimanded her because even if I did decide to become Buddhist she should still love me. (my turn to roll my eyes) 😉 She looked relieved.

I usually let Mom have her way, in fact many of our "scheduled yoga sessions" ended up being long walks around our village and then we'd end up in our parish church somehow (coincidentally daw) always in time for 6pm mass. 😳

I'd often hear her tell my brothers saying, "Na isahan ko si Gangging, akala niya walking-walking lang kami, tapos napasimba ko bigla!" then she'd laugh her infectious laugh while I pretend to look like I lost a championship match. She enjoyed winning, and though it was WAY different when I was younger (I may have inherited this 'win or die' gene from her) but when we both got older I (surprise surprise) learned to enjoy losing to her.

I vividly remember the last long walk we took (I didn't know then that it was to be the last but maybe I did) - Brother (JunBads) and I took one elbow each and we walked slowly up and down our street. I remember she told Merl (her trusty healthcare partner) that she need not come along and to stay home because she'll be okay with us kids. I didn't think much of it then but I think that was probably her telling Merl how happy she is that we were both there to accompany her on her usual walk.

While walking I asked her why she didn't use a cane or a walker and she said "What for? I have lots of children, five for each arm." 🥹 She would point to our shadows - stretching and fading, shrinking and moving as we walked beneath streetlamp after streetlamp. She said "I'm really the shortest now! I'm even shorter than my last two eggs." (again, the laugh) 🪺

She referred to us (Brother and me, her 2nd batch kids, number 9 and number 10) collectively as "her last two eggs." It became a joke that always showed up in our Easter cards and even in the dwindling text greetings.

I stopped doing yoga completely as things got busier, Mom got less and less mobile, and I was getting more and more ill at ease with silence, stillness scared me; I hated the quiet because I was wrestling with anticipatory grief. (More on this another time, remind me to write about it.) I stayed in the noise and the funk and the speed and the dribble and the hustle and the mess of the crowd - all so I don't need to feel the crush of the Alzheimer's wall closing in, so I don't always feel the fear of what was to come.

I just spent my first Easter Sunday without my Mom; this 'massive missing' rendered me either weepy or snippy most of Holy Week. I'm sure she's rolling her eyes again at me from wherever.

1229am SAT

6 April 2024

[gangbadoy]

I want to tell you something. It hasn't even been two months since I lost my Mom and one of my best ever-present-for-me buddies. Yesterday, my childhood and neighborhood girl buddy @maritumale was snatched from her two kids by cancer. While my insides are fractured and caked in dried and fresh blood right now I still have all my senses and my mind is clear. So are yours. We and all we love are safe today. We have food. The dog is napping, healthy, full, gorgeous, and chubby. J is in his office occasionally shouting "you hungry?" I make my own coffee. Wondrous bean. I have a solid home unit of unbelievable friends. Some really fine people love me more than I love my self.

I raise this glass today - to all who couldn't make it - and I toast, too, to all of you who come and see me. Thankful for your company.

I am still alive, and so are you.

☕️🍊

@projectsteadyasia

@projectsteady

[gangbadoy]

Many of us are grieving, this is true - WHICH IS WHY WE NEED YOU TO KEEP POSTING YOUR PEACEFUL and even MERRY season; you need to remind us, we need to remind each other that seasons happen, leaves turn brown, and seemingly dead trees will bear fruit again.

It's okay, keep posting, some of us will feel the sting, the sharp burn when we see happy posts, it's in the cards.

It's been messy, simultaneous songs playing; cacophony!

Words in my head go from vulgar to divine every half hour. I go from shit this to eternal rest grant, and it almost always ends with an amen.

The texture of real things and the unreal tasks slam against me, I am frozen and scorched.

As a note to myself, I am not apologizing for my incessant need to write and post and constantly negotiate with the "I'll delete this later" monster and the Titan of "immortalize him" staring at me.

I belatedly want to thank everyone who silently gave me permission in the past - no matter how it stabbed them back then - to post my own happy seasons. This is what it means to hold space for each other.

We hold space for defeat as much as we hold space for wins; hold space for grief, we hold space for joy. We take turns. This is nature and this is the story so far.

117pm WED

20 Dec 2023

[gangbadoy]

I hear him say "oops." ⚡️

One year na, Kids. Sa'n ka pumunta? [ hug your best buddies today, I'm still in oops]

Hindi pa maibaba ang luksa kahit deadline na yata. Lang'ya.

Kidlat de Guia

28 May 1975 - 8 Mar 2022

🇩🇪🇵🇭🇪🇸

[gangbadoy]

Mostly you hold them in your heart because they save you, in a million quiet and perfect ways, from being alone. #TheSundays

[gangbadoy]

Spotted in a gas station: true love. 😍

[gangbadoy]

On July 1, 2005 - 17 years ago Rock Ed Philippines started its quest to be 'an advocacy of questions.'

What can I do?

Where can I share my knowledge and resources?

Who can I partner with to optimize our contributions to address ANY (then Millennium, now) Sustainable Development Goal?

17 years ago Rock Ed's convenors were younger, brasher, with energy unbound. Thousands of concerts (exhibits, documentaries, disaster response trainings, foras, workshops, campus tours, projects) later, we still stand -

this time a little older and more focused, working with athletes and artists, writers, publishers. Working with the EU and South East Asian collectives as well.

Intensity as strong, only dealing now in chiller decibels.

Project: Steady Asia is a trauma-informed multi-disciplinary clinic and research lab allied with the Trauma Research Foundation, Boston. It is the Mental Health Education program of Rock Ed Philippines and just yesterday, we signed a partnership with (in my mind, yet another venue that may provide venues and the occasional answer to nation-building questions) Angat Buhay.

This is because, after a life of observing Philippine politics, (I am as old as the Marcos Martial Law declaration) this thought struck me- and has become the basis for my work since-

"Neither a brilliant political strategy, nor a sound socio-economic plan can take care of uplifting lives as much as an emotionally safe environment does.

Peace and progress are impossible if a traumatized nation doesn’t prioritize the mental wellness of its citizens and leaders."

That we share an anniversary [with a 17 year difference] is mere bonus, that makes us only need to buy pansit once per year to celebrate this partnership. 😬✌🏼

Paano nga naman aangat ang buhay, kung bihirang-bihira kang mentally steady?

Much to do, Raffy Magno, but here we are, so there we go. 🌤🇵🇭

GBC

528am THU

14 July 2022

[gangbadoy]

[gangbadoy]

Welcome home, Kidlat.

Alas, today has come.

Thank you for being my friend. ⚡️☁️

Kidlat de Guia

1975-2022

[curseworm]

the inherent shame of beginning… dont look at me while i learn

[garden-graveyard]

“the inherent shame of beginning”

i admit, “don’t look at me while i learn” hits hard… but why is that so? when i was 7 years old i sang along to songs i had yet to fully learn by bumbling through sounds that half-resembled what i thought i heard, at full volume.

at 6, i would practice ballet moves–in which i had no instruction–outside the theater after a professional performance, in full view of the public.

at 5, i asked my teacher so many questions that she affectionately called me Bug–because i was always bugging her with my endless inquiry. i loved the nickname.

at 14, i was afraid to practice a song in my own room with no one home because, “what if my voice cracks? what if i can’t hit that note?”

at 15 i was afraid to dance in the garage with no one around because–i mean how embarrassing would it be to get the move wrong?

at 16, i forgo asking questions in class because god forbid i not understand.

what is this? “the shame of beginning”, we say. but not inherent, never was it inherent. the child loves to begin! they love making the silly mistake. the world tells us the mistake is fatal, or worse, shameful. what a tragedy. the world strangles our joy of beginning and when we’re old enough we add our own hands to the neck.

but the truth is we begin everyday and we are wrong and we’re dumb and we make silly mistakes and at the end of it all we are still the brilliant learners we’ve always been. there is no shame. it’s alright. i don’t know how to properly express that i wish upon everyone who’s reblogged this post to realize the shame is in our hands wrapped around the neck. we can let go. allow the self-kindess of your heart to soothe the bruises.

learning is no secret burden. we do it together :)

[gangbadoy]

Here it is! My quarterly ID post: 🤣

(I am not male, yes, my nickname is Gang - from 'pangga' - my given name is Thérèse, and I am not in government.)

🥰🇵🇭

[neil-gaiman]

I dozed off with Tumblr open. Had a dream in which both David Tennant and Michael Sheen were now acting in Good Omens with ridiculous quantities of glowing Gold Leaf on their faces, and i was told that was their angel marks. I felt guilty for not having known when someone on Tumblr asked. Then I realized I'd added a sentence I had thought was being emailed to David Tennant about him looking like David Bowie with a golden forehead circle to a gigantic ongoing work of fanfic on Tumblr and I was about to get into trouble with Amazon for revealing what Crowley now looked like. Meanwhile Michael Sheen had seen a rough assembly of Good Omens 2 and was trying to tell me important things about it but was speaking so obliquely that I couldn't tell if he didn't like what we'd done or was just complaining about being all golden and less human. I woke up trying to work out how to Google an image of Bowie's golden forehead circle...

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Gaiman! I recently saw a tiktok by Hank Green saying that it costs a huge amount of money to put song lyrics in a book. Was that the case with all the Queen lyrics in Good Omens?

It was.

[gangbadoy]

Idol niyo o.

(okey ba sweldo niyo, may health insurance ba kayo, may sariling bahay na? may pang matrikula? pang upa? sasakyan? -- idol niyo pa rin? Galing.)