Pensées de la lune (Moon Thoughts, a poem by me)

The shadows of the moon
are not her choice. 
The clouds sympathize;
they want to embellish her,
while she just wants to shine,
bask in the cold light,
of her strong glory,
owing it all - 
every bit of her presence -
to the heat
of the sun. 

When the sun dies, 
as he will, 
as all stars do,
what will this rock
of infinite shadow
feel in the truth
of its darkness?
Being a blank slate,
scars visible to no one.
No mere human
at least.

(Objects feel.
They must,
at some infinite depth.
For they are alive
only after
some form of death
by technology
or otherwise.)

- F

On Language and Other Concepts

I've started on the research into my Philippine heritage and ancestry, and it proves to be just as hard as any subject matter delved into seriously and with sensitivity. It has always been hard; as an undergraduate I wrote my thesis paper on a subject matter very close to this but with a completely different approach (my thesis paper was titled: On Emergent Technosubjectivities: Fragmented Identities in the Era of Globalization. It was a very abstract paper, and as I enter into a more structured study into this part of my life, this subject matter of nationhood and cultural identity, it is proving to require the same amount of research and thought as an academic essay, and I've realized that something like this has to be handled as more than a simple hobby. 

This morning, I attempted to post something for social media regarding the nature of language in the Philippines. After posting, I asked my aunt and my mother (both Filipinos, now Filipino-Americans as they have earned their citizenship here in the United States) what they thought of it. While my aunt thought my commentary was "very good" (which it might have well been!), my mom was more concerned about how I approach writing about this topic, with an emphasis on doing the necessary reading of scholarly literature before sounding off my own educated guesses on the matter. 

The post, which has since been deleted, included this photo, which I found unsourced on Pinterest (usually a place to get into trouble with anything that requires sufficient context):

Such a beautiful sounding word. I wanted to share it with everyone as a way to share this Filipino word with the world, so it could go on it's way to become something like "Mahalo!" (Hawaiian) or "Gutentag!" (German), or "Arigato" (Japanese), or "Bon Apetit" (French), or "Bellisimo!" (Italian), or "Tak" (Polish)... you get the picture. The famous one I do know from the Philippines is "Ma Buhay!" - but I'll write more about that later. 

What I got right: kalinaw is a word from one of the many dialects in the Philippines. It is a word that originated on the island of Cebu (there are 7,107 islands in the Philippines, FYI). The word is thus part of the Cebuano dialect, and indeed does mean serenity and tranquility, and is also, correctly a noun. 

When a word like this is simply put on a Pinterest board as one of the most beautiful words spoken in the Philippines, I am concerned about the lack of complexity given in its caption, particularly the need to provide the proper context. 

Cebuano is not the official language in the Philippines. The Philippines has two official languages: Filipino (commonly referred to as Tagalog) as well as English, which is what the Filipino government uses, mostly. In Tagalog, the word kalinaw is also used, but the meaning of it is almost completely changed. Usually, when someone uses the word kalinaw in Tagalog, it is used to say something like: clear, concise, precise, understandable. It is used more to say something like: that person spoke very clear to me. Or, what that person said was crystal clear; erudite, even. Direct. Whereas in Cebuano, kalinaw's meaning more about a state of being, of a place, or person. Though describing this to you in English might seem like this word is an adjective, in both Cebuano and Tagalog, it is a noun. 

My aunt was the one who informed me that kalinaw is *not* a Tagalog word, but a Cebuano word. My mom was the one who told me that kalinaw, though not normally associated with Tagalog, is still used in Tagalog speech. I'll need further research to say anything more.

Another concern my mother had was my use of the term The Philippine Islands. I love using that term for a few reasons. One, to denote that the country is a group of thousands of islands. Two, I think it sounds official. Three, I'm not too comfortable with the idea that the Philippines is actually only named the Philippines because of the old King of Spain: King Philip II. Actually Las Islas Filipinas (Spanish) was it's given Spanish name which almost exactly translates as The Philippine Islands... which I like.

However.

On the phone this morning, my mom said, "Felicia, no one uses the term The Philippine Islands anymore. Only the colonizers liked to use that term. The Philippines gained their independence already, and since then everyone just says the Philippines." OK. So I didn't know! But fair enough. I learn something new everyday (yes, even from you, Mom). I'm not sure what the reason is for this, but it seems to be some sign of unity. Just the Philippines. All together. As a whole. According to Wikipedia (I know, I'm only in the very initial stages of reading about all this), the official title is actually The Republic Of The Philippines which signifies - even more -  that the  nation is a whole comprised of multiple parts. 

Another question my mom asked was: "Why are you so interested in all of this?" As in, opposed to other concepts?

For me, culture can be pared down to these basic components  (I think this might be similar philosophy to Anthropology or Sociology): art, orally transmitted stories/folklore, traditional rituals, clothing, food, and language (basic communication). 

History and written literature come later - at least in my study of it. What I'm finding out at this point is there is common universality in the idea of an indigenous culture native to the Philippines. Who claims this as their own? And who claims the idea of the colonizer as part of Filipino identity? And is there any way to peacefully merge these two forms together as a way to develop Filipino heritage and culture? Are they already merged? Are they split? And thus I delve into the terrifying abyss of politics. 

- F 

Recording of Claude Debussy's "Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum" from Children's Corner (take ONE)

I've played this piece for quite awhile, and every time I play it it is so much fun and I hear and learn different things each time. My fingers are still very "muddy"; so something I'm working on, with every piece I'm learning now, is clarity. I'm also working on dynamics; I'd like more contrast in this piece. Here's my recording from today - on the Yamaha. My performance is better midway through the end. I'm going to record this again on the Boston (which I love playing, perhaps my favorite upright at the library) and after I improve a ton...

So here's my very, very poor performance - 

This is what I'm working towards (performance by Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli) - 

- F

A Day At The Art Institute

Dan and I went to the Art Institute last weekend the day before the new John Singer-Sargent exhibition was due to close. 

While walking through the Ancient Greece and Ancient Roman sculpture and art gallery, we overheard a girl, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, ask this of her friend, who was about the same age:

"How do you feel about places like this? Like museums. All this stuff behind glass boxes? Or these fancy displays? I don't know. It doesn't do anything for me. I want to care about all of it, but I don't."

We might judge her, laugh at these remarks, sneer at one another despite of her. After all, these are ancient relics! But, like her friend, Dan and I just smiled gently to ourselves and remained silent for bit, thinking. 

If you think hard enough about it, she's not entirely wrong to feel this way. It reminds me of something the great contemporary philosopher Slavoj Zizek once spoke about in regards to the 2006 film Children of Men:

"The true infertility is the very lack of meaningful historical experience, and that's why I like this elegant point in the film of importing all the works of art. All those classical statues are there, but they are deprived of a world. They're totally meaningless because what does it mean to have a statue of Michelangelo or whatever? It only works if it signals a certain world, and when this world is lacking, it's nothing. It is against this background, I think that the film approaches the topic of immigration and so on."

(from Children Of Men, directed by Alfonso Cuaron)

As a librarian, this makes perfect sense. While we review the stimulating and significant value of being able to look at and analyze primary sources, such as original historical documents or even artwork, there is a point when we have to make mention the necessity of secondary sources. Secondary sources, oftentimes written by scholars and academics, of course, and this might be obvious, put these primary sources in perspective and context. Despite this self-evidence, as librarians and any kind of teacher, this fact is still important to articulate. The thing itself - the primary source - might not be enough. 


How was this young woman supposed to understand the gravity of having an ancient object, such as the statue of Sophocles, without having any prior knowledge of his work? As I gazed upon this relic, I did pity those who never read or intended to read a great work such as Antigone. 

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

In my defense, her lack of desire to wonder or know about the art and objects surrounding her was a little bit alarming. Even when I was a child, born here with hardly any knowledge of the classical texts or art, and none passed onto me by my parents (both immigrants), I always felt a need to understand where their importance in this society came from, where it was built from, what need. Simply, I had a feeling that there was more to this life than Cosmopolitan magazine and whatever else seemed "trendy"; though mind you, I keep notes on both.

"No one is an expert on anything unless there's a burning need somewhere to have that particular skill," says the character Danny from one of my favorite films as well as the book it is based off of, Submergence by J. M. Ledgard.

(One day I'll write about the different circumstances which made reading my skill of choice.)

The need, for me, came from wanting to find meaning beyond the surface. Sometimes that comes in a form so different from what we come to see as reality.

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

Ancient Roman as well as Ancient Greek mythology inform much of what surrounds us today, with its influence shown in religious practices and stories, artwork that can be found in its cheapest forms on the lawns of our neighbors, and in much of our literary canons from the past thousands of years. And much of this mythology interests me all the more because of my newfound love for fairy-tales and folklore. There is a close connection between the rich literary canon of the West - usually seen as something elite - and the fairy-tales and folklore of what a lot of people consider to be more connected to the working class and even the poor. To connect these two classes by way of stories that impact one another is absolutely fascinating because it might be something ultimately unifying. 

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

photo taken by me, at the Art Institute of Chicago, 09.29.18

The last gallery Dan and I decided to explore was the Medieval Art gallery. One of the most striking objects we came across was this choral book, from sometime during that period (5th to 15th Century), Europe.

Notations were completely different, without circles and stems, and overall the music was less precise in terms of rhythm and dynamics. The singers were more likely to make their own decision on how to interpret the music. This book, if seen in person, is very large, I think even a little over a foot in height; the choir had to share one book, and all had to see the notes on the exposed pages. 

(The idea of transformation is such a prevalent thought in my mind these days; how like me to see all things meta; across time and all encompassing.)

I did not take any pictures at the John Singer-Sargent exhibition, primarily out of respect for the artist. The audience was allowed to take pictures but when I attempted to do so, the paintings did not have the same effect in any way whatsoever. Sargent's paintings are very large, and the thickness of his paint is so key to the emotion that it draws to the viewer, brushstrokes and such and effused light (excuse my language, I am not a fine arts expert) that the camera on my phone could not do it any justice. They were all striking images, conjuring up emotions not of peace and happiness but of toughness and work, public persona, and the grim notion that tenderness always lies beneath the surface of this calloused reality. I even think I saw suffering in the subjects of his work, despite the luxury the people lived within; suffering from the grueling politics of the day. They were, suffice it to say, beautiful. 

A good day at the art museum left us brimming with new information and appreciation, and the anticipated tiredness that came with. It's our plan to always go to the Art Institute with two exhibits in mind, see those, and stop wherever our eyes and legs feel inclined. 

I'll end with this: I am happy that this trip did not require the obligatory gift shop present. Of course, we took a peek in there, but as I get older I'm realizing that the gift shop is NOT my point of excitement as much as it was when I was a child. I surprised myself by buying nothing. 

Until next time.

- F

Three Projects Of Differing Natures

There are three ideas which I have been concerning myself with because I feel a strong necessity to either write about them, in essay form, or manifest them cohesively in some other way, creatively or artistically. Where this feeling comes from, or for what desire or outcome, I know not. At least not yet. 

The first concerns mental illness; my own. I would like to write an essay about my own experience/s with mental illness, and how it developed over time. However, time and time again I've attempted to prepare my mind for the endeavor of writing about it, but I am realizing that I'd like to do some real research. Get statistics. History. Other opinions from people who have this mental illness. Needless to say, I feel that my writing would benefit. The subject - the illness - I am coping with is a form of psychosis designated as schizo-affective depressive type. I have a few books to start with at home, and as I'm reading those I'm going to take notes, and at any spark of an idea to tie my essay together I will have pen and paper at hand. I will also include thoughts and notes on a recent all-day course I took via my job at the library. This course was sponsored by the National Institute of Mental Health and I received my certificate in Mental Health First Aid, which I think should be a required course every three years, much like CPR courses.

The second idea that has been floating about is my concern for my ancestry and culture. That would be the Philippine Islands; i.e. the Philippines, and the state of Puerto Rico. Because I feel "closer" to the previous, I intend to look into what literature is available from contemporary Filipinos and Filipino-Americans. I wouldn't be surprised if not one reading this knew that this month, October, is Filipino-American Heritage Month. How many Filipino-Americans write fiction each year? What is available? What are they writing about? As for biographies and memoirs, who is writing those? What is it about? What is the emotional geography of this immigrant group - my own - and how does it differ and compare to other immigrant groups today? What are its politics and sensitivities? Why I am so interested in this is because I am concerned about the lack of proper, or at least, understandable heritage here. It is not clear because these are lands with heavily colonized histories. What does the ethnic and cultural heritage look like - and how does this fit in to the United States and furthermore, the global world - today? What can be brought to the table in a way that isn't terribly politicized? 

The third idea is fairy-tales and folklore. I'm just going to dive in, swim in it, and see what comes up. 

I'll keep you posted.

Sincerely,

F