Xn3cTs

Brown’s devices are rather stilted… contrived… Although I laughed at that scene when Brown was thinking of some woman in the past and then the police driver who fetched him asks: “Did you mount her?” The Eiffel, of course… harharhar!

One particular scene that I loved (not for any “high”/literary reasons but for the seeming naturalness of the playfulness of the characters) in “Foucault’s Pendulum” was when the narrator, Casaubon, was reading up on the Rosicrucians in bed, with his girlfriend Amparo. There are no narrative descriptions about what goes on. But Casaubon from time to time remarks, “Stop that!” or Amparo gets some food and eats and feeds Casaubon, too, and repeats a curious word or name or detail from what Casaubon reads aloud, and you know that they’re teasing each other and having some kind of a foreplay. Parang si Dumas din sa “Count of Monte Cristo.” Alam mo kung ano’ng nangyayari sa dialogue lang… sa tone, sa manner of responses and counter-responses… wala nang description o (kung sa play, stage directions).

Wala talagang binatbat ang “Da Vinci Code.” (A comparison can’t be avoided because both works talk about the knights templars, rosicrucians, the grail myth, conspiracies, etc.)

best regards,
ian

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An excerpt from “Foucault’s Pendulum” (This is Lia, Casaubon’s girlfriend (after Amparo) and mother of his child, talking to Casaubon.):

…she patted her belly, her thighs, her forehead; with her spread legs drawing her skirt tight, she sat like a wet nurse, solid and healthy — she so slim and supple — with a serene wisdom that illuminated her and gave her a matriarchal authority.

“Pow (Lia’s pet name for Casaubon - ian), archetypes don’t exist; the body exists. The belly inside is beautiful, because the baby grows there, because your sweet cock, all bright and jolly, thrusts there, and good, tasty food descends there, and for this reason the cavern, the grotto, the tunnel are beautiful and important, and the labyrinth, too, which is made in the image of our wonderful intestines. When somebody wants to invent something beautiful and important, it has to come from there, because you also came from there the day you were born, because fertility always comes from inside a cavity, where first something rots and then, lo and behold, there’s a little man, a date, a baobab.”

(I’m reminded of an exhibit by Gabby Barredo at Hiraya Galler in 1998 or 99. There was a monstrance (the thing where priests put the sacred host during an exposition of the holy sacrament), but instead of a host, what you find inside was a vagina. - ian)

“And high is better than low, because if you have your head down, the blood goes to your brain, because feet stink and hair doesn’t stink as much, because it’s better to climb a tree and pick fruit than end up underground, food for worms, and because you rarely hurt yourself hitting something above — you really have to be in an attic — while you often hurt yourself falling. That’s why up is angelic and down devilish.

“But because what I said before, about my belly, is also true, both things are true, down and inside are beautiful, and up and outside are beautiful, and the spirit of Mercury and Manicheanism have nothing to do with it. Fire keeps you warm and cold gives you bronchial pneumonia, especially if you’re a scholar four thousand years ago, and therefore fire has mysterious virtues besides its ability to cook your chicken. But cold preserves that same chicken, and fire, if you touch it, gives you a blister this big; therefore if you think of something preserved for millenia, like wisdom, you have to think of it on a mountain, up, high (and high is good), but also in a cavern (which is good, too) and in the eternal cold of the Tibetan snows (best of all). And if you then want to know why wisdom comes from the Orient and not from the Swiss Alps, it’s because the body of your ancestors in the morning, when it woke and there was still darkness, looked to the east hoping the sun would rise and there wouldn’t be rain.”

Cultural symbols have some kind of consistency. And rightly or wrongly (I mean, one could always present arguments that would show the inappropriateness of a symbol or sets of symbols), the associations have been formed and set through the millenia. One cannot simply do away with a symbol that has been passed and accepted by cultures/traditions, etc. One can, however, question and undermine the seeming “naturalness” that these symbols have come to acquire (like what Nietzsche, Derrida, among others, have done).

The association of “black” with “male” and “white” with “female” (at least, symbolically) is not consistent with, and I’d even say, goes against the grain of, tradition of symbolical associations with gender archetypes. Check it out for yourself. Research on this topic.

Even the very moral association of “black” with “evil” and “white” with “good” is consistent with the disparaging of the “feminine principle” that Brown himself presents in his novel.

Which leads me back to Nietzsche… the earth/matter, feminine, black, deceptive, as opposed to the spirit, male, white, beholden to the truth… and which does he champion?

Neither.

Rather, he asks, probably with a grin on his face, “What if truth were a woman?” (which can be read as “what if the truth were lying/deceptive?”)

So, again, rather than simply overturning the tables or reassigning the good values with the opposing pole (i.e., saying that “male” is “evil” and “female” is “good”), one gains an insight into the interconnection/interweaving/inter-reliance, complexity, and perhaps, even complicity of the bipolar signs/symbols into our understanding of this world.

The world is to a large extent, amoral, and because of this, both cruel and innocent. It is us humans/cultures who assign values, depending on our perceived needs/wants in given situations. It is when these values harden/ossify that they become dangerous to life/living.

best regards,
ian

I loved the Matrix and Moulin Rouge, despite their being hyped. On the other hand, I did watch Lord of the Rings 1 & 2, but stayed away from 3. Tried reading book 1, but just managed a few paragraphs, and then stopped… (Well, perhaps someday…)

Did “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” have that much hype? I love that novel, have read it twice, and think of it as the kind/type of novel I’d love to write if I ever get the chance of writing one. (Haven’t seen the film adaptation with Daniel Day-Lewis…)

As for “The Da Vinci Code,” if you find a copy lying around, it’s worth reading din naman. For one thing, I do subscribe to the recuperation/rehabilitation of the “sacred feminine.”

One other reason why I stayed away from Dan Brown’s novel is that I’ve read Umberto Eco’s “Foucault’s Pendulum” and from what I had heard about “The Da Vinci Code,” it seemed to me to be a “Foucault’s Pendulum”-wanna-be.

I’m currently re-reading Eco’s novel. (I read it years ago, mistakenly thinking that it’d help me write a paper on Michel Foucault. Wala palang connect. Ibang Foucault ‘to… Or, meron din, if one looks at the obsession for power and techniques of power…)

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Read “The Da Vinci Code” in 2005, after deliberately ignoring it for quite some time because of the hype. And then saw the movie later.

Well, the wealth of information (esp. regarding symbols) is generally sound. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the erudition of Umberto Eco’s “Foucalt’s Pendulum.” (I have yet to understand the elaborate explanation of how Foucault’s Pendulum works…)

One thing I liked in the novel is the rather sympathetic portrayal of the head of the Opus Dei, Bishop Aringarosa.  (Not so in the movie.)  I’ve heard a lot of negative publicity regarding the Opus Dei and their founder Jose Ma. Escriva. (From the late Larry Henares, in his TV show and Philippine Daily Inquirer column, as well as from a Filipino priest who studied in a university run by the Opus Dei…) Bishop Aringarosa may be ultra-conservative in his theology but in the end, when the time came for his faith to be tested, his heart proved to be ultimately in the right place.

Also, it had a more hopeful, happy ending than “Foucault’s Pendulum,” which was darker and more poignant. Eco’s novel bewails the lack of understanding that so-called believers/enlightened ones have. Parang si Elsa sa Himala: “Walang himala! Ang himala ay nasa puso ng tao!”

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A poem by Rumi:

Because I Cannot Sleep

Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.

A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have run a thousand miles away.

The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter.

The moon says, “How long will I remain suspended without a sun?”
Without Love’s jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.

O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces.
O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of bheng from your branch.

Remove the cork once more.
Then we’ll see a thousand chiefs prostrate, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
The the addict will be freed of craving and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgment Day.

(translation by Kabir Helminski and Lail Fouladvend)

Ano nga ba ang isang tula?

Isang marikit na kasinungalingang binihisan. Isang katotohanang ipinararamdam lamang. Tanging sa pagpaparamdam lamang nito hindi nagiging kasinungalingan ang katotohanan. Isang katotohanang ’singhalaga at ’sintago ng miniminang yaman.

Sino nga ba ang nakakakita na, sa katotohanan, kulay-asin ang dagat?

Walang sinuman. Gayunpaman, nagpaparanas ito, wumawagayway, ipinapakita at sinasalamin ng mga binuo nitong bula ang kulay ng gasuklay na buwan. Nasa kanyang hiwaga ang higit niyang kagandahan.

Hindi maaaring tumambad sa atin ang tula nang hubad. Mga buto ng tula lamang ang taglay ng mga tulang hubad. At ano nga ba’ng mas papangit pa sa mga pawang kalansay lamang?

Ingatan, mga manunula, ang diwa ng tula: isang espinghe. Hayaan n’yong matuto silang bakbakin ito tulad ng balat ng kahoy… Ay, tulad ng dalandan! kaylinamnam ng itinatago nito sa loob ng kanyang mala-planetang kabilugan!

Ingatan ang inyong sarili, mga manunula, laban sa mga bungang walang-balat, mga dagat na walang-alat.

Kailangang umubra ang tula gaya ng sa banal na misa.

Kailan kaya darating ang manunula na hawak sa kanyang mga daliri ang tula gaya ng paring tangan-tangan ang ostiya at nagsasabing: “Ito ang Diyos!” at maniniwala tayo?

- Miguel Hernandez, spanish poet, 1910-1942 (Tagalog translation by Ron Capinding)

I love Jeanette Winterson!

It’s true, and every lover knows this deep in his/her heart to be true: when one loves, one becomes a stalker of sorts…

With the regretful sigh and the little blush of a lover,
ian

—

The Lover’s Passion
by Rumi

A lover knows only humility
He has no choice
He steals into your alley at night
He has no choice
He longs to kiss every lock of your hair
Don’t fret
He has no choice
In his frenzied love for you
He longs to break the chains
Of his imprisonment
He has no choice
—

It was easy for me to get in, the door was unlocked. I felt like a thief with a bagful of stolen glances. It’s odd being in someone else’s room when they’re not there. Especially when you love them. Every object carries a different significance. Why did she buy that? What does she especially like? Why does she sit in this chair and not that one? The room becomes a code that you have only a few minutes to crack. When she returns, she will command your attention, and besides it’s rude to stare. And yet I want to pull out the drawers and run my fingers under the dusty rims of the pictures. In the waste basket perhaps, in the larder, I will find a clue to you, I will be able to unravel you, pull you between my fingers and stretch out each thread to know the measure of you.

- Jeanette Winterson, “Written on the Body”

From “It’s Here Now: Are You?” by Bhagavan Das, pp.82-83:

The spiritual path gives you a choice to use your power for either good or evil. Many are tempted to use it for evil — that’s human nature. We must overcome this temptation. This is why the spiritual life is called the razor’s edge. The more realization you receive, the more power you’re given. But if you don’t remain humble and compassionate, you may find yourself slipping into some very deep, dark spaces. And kindness is essential.

The Lord’s Prayer says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Jesus wouldn’t have put that into the most famous prayer in the world if he hadn’t known that a hundred times a day we need to let go, we need to forgive. When we do, the next moment arises fresh and clean. There’s no victim; no one did anything to anyone. And most important of all, one must forgive oneself, too.

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Some people say that Christianity has been misunderstood. It looks to me more like it is Christianity which has misunderstood! The world, perhaps even Christ!

I’m not associating Christ with Christianity. When Nietzsche wrote “Der Anti-Christ” (usually translated as “The Anti-Christ”), his polemics was directed more to Paul and Christendom/Christianity, (a note in the translation says that it is probably more fitting to translate it as “The Anti-Christian.”) The same with Kierkegaard, his beef was with Christendom (the bureaucracy of Christianity). Christianity, as we know it today, is according to biblical scholarship, largely the work of Paul the Apostle.

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Personalism vis-a-vis Parochialism

(A Reaction to a Piece on Personalism by Verdman)

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(an old piece written in June 2004)

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“Walang personalan. Trabaho lang.”

- a line from a movie about a cop (played by Rudy Fernandez) who summarily executes a criminal (”Markang Bungo” yata… not sure though…)

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“i think (i could be wrong, most of the time i am), that the root of our problem is our personalistic approach to life. we easily sacrifice objectivity in order to accomodate our personal affiliations, thus negating our chance to cultivate values that are necessary to achieve real progress. personalism is in every fabric of pinoylife. from the moment of birth (kung sino ang magiging ninong), up to the time of death (kung sinong asawa ang may karapatan sa bangkay). whether business, sports, politics, gov’t, etc…. personalism always plays a part. nothing wrong with cultivating personal ties per se, we are a social animal afterall, it’s when personalism is accomodated at the expense of objectivity, this is where corruption starts, first morally, then leading up to plunder.”

- Verdman (a nom de plume), On Personalism

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What’s the problem with personalism?

The way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with personalism per se. In fact, it is precisely this personalism that makes Noypis so lovable, and as Ninoy put it, “worth dying for.”

It is when personalism clashes with “objectivity” that the problem arises. It thus degenerates to parochialism. Parochialism, i.e., my interests over your interests, my family over your family, my clan over your clan, my my hey hey!… Parochialism, narrow-mindedness, “subjectivism,” bigotry…

The Philippines is relatively a young country. We’ve only started to think of ourselves as one nation during the 19th century, the credit mainly to the ilustrados (which include Rizal). (See Leon Ma. Guerrero’s “The First Filipino.”) Probably no small wonder that we’re still trying to find our bearings… still trying to get our act together.

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