The Book of Life, Part V. The Promised Land

We are sick on many fronts, and when we peel off our masks, our layers and our onion skins, we find all kinds of wounds still in the process of healing itself.

The simplest notion of healing is this. Leave any unhealed part of you alone, without trying to cure it or attempting to solve any problems that are caused by it. Leave it resting in the light of the day and in the moonshine of a starry night, and simply watch it. Look at it without judging it. Do not try to control it, but simply, let it be.

You will see yourself in it, and realize that it is seeing itself in you. In this, it is a mirror.

My most practical insight during my two years in Kalipay beach is that everything heals itself, in the light of true perspective.

There is but one true perspective. Oneness.

I’ve just finished Tom Robbins’ first novel where the Chink left the writing on one side of the wall of the clock-work cave: “I believe in nothing, everything is sacred.” And on the other side is “I believe in everything, nothing is sacred.”

When you live in the natural kingdom long enough, the Bible, the Koran, an Archie Comic Book and The Brothers Kamarazov are all holy texts. Everyday is the Sabbath, and the sea turtle as well as the beach’s kingfishers act like holy teachers of men.

The Ascension path is literally like climbing a ladder. When I left my life one day in Boracay five years ago, I was still a meat-eater. During my Mindanao pilgrimage, I was vegetarian. In Kalipay, the ascendancy was from raw food to breatharian.

Breatharians are those that believe that man can live on free energy. Light, water, and air. After my first year in Kalipay, it was easy to fast for an entire week, then live on coconuts the next week and vice versa. This is difficult to believe, yet I seldom got hungry, and even more unbelievable, I gained weight. I am posting some of my old Kalipay photos on the innerdance multiply site to show you what I looked like then.

Here are the physical manifestations of living a life of light. A time came when I stopped sleeping for many days without feeling any kind of fatigue. Sleep is a requirement of the mind and body to digest the stressful absorption of food and noisy inputs fed into the brain. A time also came when my feces had turned to white matter, it I had to go to the bathroom at all. If I had body odor while detoxifying, I later found my body developing a fresh scent, and my skin softened and cleared up so much, considering I was spending so much time in the forest, the sand and the salty waters.

I had tremendous bursts of energy mainly in the early mornings before the actual dawning of the morning sun. I could run and exercise for around eight hours straight and the only reason for stopping was out of boredom.

My body was agile, able to climb high trees with little effort, much like a cat would move. A cat represents unpredictable liveliness and power beneath its languid swagger. It is more akin to the hunter archetype, unlike a dog’s more lethargic energy that likes to depend on its masters for food.

Even more important though, is the positive outlook one begins to develop once enough toxins and negativity are withdrawn. In the context of the figurative beach, anything is possible, and we have the power to change our lives when we find enough energy to do so.


The Book of Life, Part IV. Ascension

My ascension work was born of my frustration with the world. “Why do people need to buy happiness, or even survival?” “Why do we need to sacrifice light to live in day to day darkness?”

I could go on and on with my questions. I would rather relate the answers I found while I was desperately seeking for light.

Light is everything. It means illumination, just as it means a burden-less existence. To live a life of light is to be enlightened while free of the heaviness the world insists to encumber upon itself.

I had given up my life for the pilgrimage to the unknown. I knew that light was in the world somewhere. Not just anyone else’s light, but my light. Initially, when I began my walking pilgrimage in California, I interlaced my day with a lot of exercise. Following a one-hour regimen of running around the track in the local high school in West Covina in L.A. County, I would close the regimen by practicing a set of powerful meditative bodywork a friend in Sagada taught me called The Five Tibetan Rites. So powerful were these exercises that my light weight was further reduced as my energetic metabolism reached new heights. I could feel a change come over me, as I mustered the courage to quit my day jobs and be stuck in the U.S. waiting for a sign that would catapult me to a worry-less promised land existing in my mind.

I felt that to contain light (for light is information, too), we need to enlighten our waste-filled bodies.

After I had quit my job, I walked the many miles from Covina all the way to Pasadena to visit the 2-story Borders bookstore. It was there that I came upon the works of James Redfield and Nealle Donald Walsh. At times of torment, new age spirituality is a welcome reprieve from the mental prison we are trying to escape.

Back then, it was enough to bathe in the light within the words in those books. I had no money to buy the books, so I stayed there the whole day bathing in universal concepts so easy to realize, that it is difficult to think of how confusing the world is outside of that section of the bookstore.

I took my readings to heart so profusely, that my life changed overnight. A few weeks after I had re-read the Conversations with God series, I had that fateful meeting with the Mexican stranger who took me to the San Gabriels to tell me about my past, my present, and my future. It isn’t important that you know the details of this event. Importantly, experience changes one’s perspective, just as perspective changes one’s experience. I couldn’t fathom everything that happened, but it was enough to prod me into a greater part of nothingness.

Fast forward to the time I had left my family, my job, my friends, and my sanity. I’m in Boracay beach, and I am about to make the biggest decision in my life. The “Queen Mother” came in the form of a yellow butterfly and spoke to me. She said, “it will be difficult, can you make it if you choose to embark on this journey, rather than ending your life now?” I was frustrated at everything. Nothing meant anything. It was the darkest night of my soul. Yet, I felt light. My body tingled, though tired.

I threw away my questions, realizing that if I was to continue living in illusion, within Maya, it was certain, figurative and literal death anyway. Leaving everything my mind once clung onto, I decided to let go.

People think that it was a difficult thing to walk around Mindanao, the fifth largest island in the world. If you have experienced a good Inner Dance workshop, you will feel a certain trance-like affair descending upon you. You are entirely conscious, yet you are not thinking and fearing the same way. Your troubles have little power over you, and you feel that we humans are meant to do greater things that we think we are limited to.

When I was walking around in Mindanao, I felt that sensation, but much more so. I felt like I was walking around while enveloped in a powerful energy blanket that protected me from all harm, sickness or injury. I never got sick, nor did I go hungry. If I was sleeping on the streets on the way from one place to the other, I slept soundly. If I had no food or money in my pockets, the most generous people offered me food without my having to ask for anything. I was provided for, every step of the way.

Every person has access to a direct energy stream that is unique to that person. It is the energy stream we will call, The Birth Vision. The Birth Vision is that which leads us to our greatest, most awesome expression and experience possible while living as individuated souls on this planet.

Along the while, I was led to new light, new information that came to my ready hands at precisely the right time.

I learned of entire communities that existed on raw fruits and vegetables. Individuals who elevated their existence to basic goodness, yet a more profound level of happiness people seldom find.

Suddenly, I have no job, no money, living in absolute faith. My one frustration with the world could be summed up in one question: “can we not live in this world receiving energy that is freely given to us by the universe, while having the courage to give energy just as freely, without thought of anything in return?”

Now, put yourself in my shoes. I grew up in Manila, studied in La Salle Greenhills, graduated high school in the mid-west U.S.A., took up Integrated Marketing Communications in the University of Asia and the Pacific. I ran several small companies, acted as consultant to a few corporations, and was the country manager of what was then the fifth largest travel company in the world. I was a professor of advertising, direct marketing, public relations, and English literature. I hailed from a clan that thrives on power, image and money.

In the cut-throat world, benevolence and kindness is conditional. It is seldom real, but rather, it is an idea, a concept; at best, it is an attainable, yet very difficult goal.

For years, I had felt a certain oneness in my bones, I could sense it in marketing presentations, I could feel it in street signs. I got into trouble talking about it, much more when I try to insert it into my professional life. A lot of people understood it, but I had to talk to them on a one-on-one basis, when people had let go of their walls and weren’t afraid of speaking their own yearnings to find happiness.

By the time I was walking around the Philippines, sometimes as much as 60km a day with just some water and a few bananas, I was able to take the very abstract new age philosophies, the esoteric mysteries, the new physics, and my own knowledge of the world, and find a synergy. It was a new connectedness, very different from the conceptual spirituality I dabbled in while living my pretenses in Manila.

I resonated with a woman whose story gave me immense inner strength. Her name is the Peace Pilgrim. I found her story in a magazine on the latter part of the Mindanao journey and was stunned to learn that she began a three decade walking pilgrimage for peace as a grandmother. It took her fifteen years to prepare herself fully for doing this well. She did this all this without money, and swore never to ask people for food and shelter, yet openly received what was offered to her. She began her walk in the same place and time I did mine, Pasadena on the first week of January. She died the day I was born. July 7.

Look up her story on the Internet. The first thing that will come to mind is how she could be so focused on her seemingly impossible task. The same instructions Jesus gave his disciples before he died.

To be involved in Ascension work is like locking on to a specific goal. The goal is constant but the way to that goal is twisting and turbulent, beset by perils and distractions. The goal of ascension is light. The light within us all. The way to finding this light is to find a certain balance.

First, the journeyman/woman must at least have the clear intent to shed off any impurities and attachments that will hinder the difficult upward climb. Most people, at this first stage, are unready. Those who are ready have often undergone tremendous challenges that did not kill them but ended up making them stronger, experiences that have deepened them and are now forcing them to ask the more important questions. Who am I? What am I doing on Earth? Is it okay to allow so much suffering in the world while I am so intent on accumulating material wealth? The same questions Prince Siddharta asked himself before setting for the path of the Buddha.

Second, the pilgrim must place firm faith in his/her innate wisdom. There are many signs meant to misdirect the pilgrim from the light. Signs confoundedly say, “go back home,” “danger zone,” or even “stay here.” There is nothing wrong with home, with staying put, if you are content with your stage in ultimate reality. If you can look at the mirror and say, I reflect from within me, the heart and soul of the universe,” why ought you to change anything, then?

Without these first and second conditions, it will be difficult to summon courage and determination to get past the first few veils of the labyrinth walk to the heart of the earth.

The third thing that can help you find the balance to truly comprehend and rightfully act on your Ascension work is this: give away enough of your belongings to the poor. Enough of it to hurt. To make a point of it, the universe likes good thoughts and nice words, but you will have to prove your detachment to the material world, your neediness if it is going to allow things to flow towards you even if you think you do not “have” enough resources to survive the journey.

Of course, this is not a condition. You do not have to do it. If you can do it, though, you will be taken cared of. Every single one of your needs will be met. You must prove it to yourself – that you truly believe in the creative force within you, and everything that you need at the right moment, will manifest itself instantly, no matter how impossible the situation.

Anyway, if you are on the path to simplification but hold on to things, the universe will find ways to take away your material belongings to remind you of why you’re here on Earth to begin with.

The Book of Life (Part 3). The Tree of Life

Remember the time we didn’t have to work for food?  We just had to float in maternal fluid, waiting for nutrients to flow into the simple delivery chute we call the umbilical cord. 


There is no one precise process to ascending from your dependency on complex physical nutrients towards freer energy. It is not a simple A,B and C process, but rather a zig-zagging labyrinth that will have you cross-eyed and delirious before you even get past the first difficult turns.


The labyrinth walk’s origins stem from Mesopotamia, and it is still connected to our digestive system.  The early Persians modeled the first labyrinths from our intestinal tract.  Ironically, maybe that’s why we call it our “guts;” surely, it will take quite a handful of guts to walk the labyrinth we like to call, “life.” 


It is easier to get stuck in one particular corner of the labyrinth than to push towards our center.  Whenever we feel our consciousness is about to turn inwards, we look for the next movie or the next friend we can send a text message to, rather than leave our emotional digestive process undistracted.


The first challenge to elevating our diets is in putting up with the loneliness and the other discomforts that come up when we begin the inner work in solitude.  This is the stage that follows any kind of awakening.  It is called purgation.  It is almost as if the simple act of focusing our attention on a pinprick of light for but a brief moment can shake up the dust and the darkness that clouds our awareness of our truer reality. 


Try just half a day of lightening your diet.  You will feel weak, and you will owe this weakness to your lack of food.  Before shoveling hamburgers into your mouth, you might alternately try to ask yourself if the weakness is due to lack of food, or to the fact that your body has begun to work out a process it hasn’t had much quality time to devote to – healing.


Your first real challenge, thus, is to break the thought that you are like an automobile that requires gasoline to run.  You are not a car.  Nor is food your fuel. Place your faith in that you are made of spirit, even as your mind tells you that you are made of physical parts only.  The more physical food comes into your body, the more you become aware of yourself as physical being only. 


Think of it this way.  Your enzymes do two important things.  They digest, as well as heal.  When enzymes are digesting your food, they are like janitors and maids inside you, ever cleaning your body of waste material, even as you sleep.  When they aren’t digesting, the same enzymes are like nurses and doctors that go to the parts in your body that needs the most healing.


Most living things contain enzymes.  When you expose these to heat, the enzymes die.  Live food such as raw fruits and vegetables contain its own janitors and maids.  It is like eating food that cleans up after itself, leaving your body’s own enzymes free to keep focused on the arduous task of keeping your whole being on the path to higher evolution. 


But your mind resists this.  Even with the slightest discomfort, your body balks at the skin rashes that come out, the mental and emotional depression that comes with your physiological withdrawals of the toxins you have accumulated over the years you have spent on Earth.  You cannot stand for the weakness that takes hold of you.  You aren’t trained to allow for this weakness. Ever must you feel strong and in control of mind and body, even as you helplessly watch your soul constantly stray from your futile attempts to grasp it with your will.


Myself, I am, by character, weak.  I have many friends who have transitioned their diets through pure will. Rather, I used to be at the mercy of whatever food is placed in front of me. In a way, I was sort of addicted to food.  If you take away what an addict is addicted to, he develops anxiety and looks for whatever it is he is addicted to.


When I left my life, first walking around Mindanao, I had to give up most meat, by condition.  When I began to live with poor farming and fishing communities, the universe, at least, controlled the conditions I was in.  These families couldn’t afford meat, and thus, I became a vegetarian, by condition.


It was around this time that the universe dropped some readings on my lap, regarding entire communities that subsisted on the simplest foods, such as bananas, raw vegetables, coconuts only.  I remember that light bulb on the top of my head flipping “ON,” as my paradigm of the world inverted itself practically overnight.  Having come from the midst of metropolitan Manila, I had long pondered on why we had to devote our waking life to so much egoistic suffering just to ensure we had our three complex meals a day.


But it wasn’t as simple as realizing this.  As I watched myself understanding and believing in this inverted world that subsisted on free energy, I also saw that my body didn’t readily agree with these newfangled concepts.  As my spirit guide kept insisting that I urgently look for the beach I regularly see in my dreams, it wasn’t long until the light bulb illuminated the other parts of me that were still in the dark.


If I couldn’t control myself, I could at least control the conditions I lived in.  If I lived in a beach that had no pork chops, and was thousands of kilometers from any McDonald’s Drive-Thru, I had no choice but to eat what was available.

When I finally had a grip on the conditions – finally getting myself stuck in an empty beach, my next problem was vertical.  The food was there, but I had to work to get it.  Being born on the beach and learning to climb coconut trees at the age of 10, while your body is still nimble, is one thing.  Spending most of your life in the city, then one day having to learn how to climb a coconut tree at the age of 28, at the point where you are still transitioning your diet and have constant dizzy weak spells is another thing altogether.


The dilemma was in simultaneously doing battle with two (or three) daunting fears.  How could I use my fear of dying of hunger to propel me upwards as I conquered my fear of heights – and fear of falling down from fifty feet high up on a swaying coconut tree that is God knows how far from any decent hospital.


At first, I tried to be clever.  I invented contraptions using long branches, rope, and metal things that got washed up on the shore. I tried to lasso coconuts and pull them down, if it would save me from having to go up there to get it.  It was difficult but possible to do this, but every time I succeeded, the coconuts broke open, and I lost most of the juice contained in it. 


After a few days of this, I practiced climbing the smallest tree I could find.  In the beginning, even just a few steps upwards can be so overwhelming.  My knees were literally knocking against wood.  My only consolation is that nobody was around to watch me give up countless times, before I was able to inch my way to the top.  But then, this wasn’t the end of the problem.  I didn’t realize just how difficult it is to detach coconuts from the tree, especially those that are old enough to contain meat in it.  Young coconuts that contain only water proved easier to detach, but did strange things to my stomach.


There are several tricks to this.  The best, and safest way is also the most difficult and dangerous to learn.  You have to pull yourself through the branches and lift yourself upwards so that you will end up at the top of the tree.  If you are able to do this, you can use your feet to just push the coconuts below you with your feet. 


The easier way to learn is also the more dangerous.  While clinging onto the trunk of the tree, you have to rotate the coconut enough to twist the branch that it breaks off.  It seems easy, until you learn often enough that geckos, ants, squirrels, fruit bats, and even snakes can sometimes be found lurking in the branches – the last things you would want to encounter if you’re dangling on one hand with the other twisting a coconut.  Most times, the coconuts grow so thick and are bunched up so tightly that they are difficult to turn even just a few degrees.


The previous caretaker of the beach took care of a dog that was brought there years back when the owner of the beach still lived there.  He was aptly named Bilbo. A guy named Etoy also brought me a three-week old kitten from a fishing community at the far end of the large island, called Pulan Bato.  The cat was named Ming-Ming. 


These two pets had no choice but to survive on what I was subsisting on.  Bilbo lived on old brown coconuts (niyog), which I would peel and crack open for Bilbo, which he would have the uncanny ability to shred with his teeth.  Ming-Ming doesn’t like old coconuts.  She only ate young coconuts.  Everyday, I would climb a few trees, higher ones as the months passed, to gather a couple for myself, one for Bilbo and another one for Ming-Ming. 


The problem was that they knew what I was up to … I fed them on the spot, and so, they knew the careful formula that me climbing tree plus coconuts falling from the heavens is almost certainly equal to food. But they always waited in anticipation right below the tree.  I would have to wait for a few minutes before they get tired of waiting and walk away.  If you are dangling high up there, ants starting to crawl down your shirt, you too wouldn’t be in the best of moods.  I would shout myself hoarse to get them to walk away, but beach pets in the wild like to defy logic rather than to be agreeable.


Lastly, given all those challenges, the one thing that can definitely hinder you from gathering a single coconut at any given time, is rain.  One time during my first months in the beach, I was nearing the top of a very wet tree right after a whole night of rain, when I slipped. The only way I could break the fall was to embrace the tree tight to my chest.  I would rather scrape my skin silly for the two feet of breaking gravity than let go and end up on the sand below with two broken legs.  I was scarred for a month, but the lesson stayed with me much longer.  Even in the hottest of days, I learned to be aware at all times, eventually loving the art of climbing trees which once terrified me when I first lived on the island.


My good friend Gilda Coredero-Fernando published The Soul Book, a beautiful compendium of our ancient forebears oldest myths. I remember it speaks of surviving legends that describe a long-forgotten time when bountiful food would fall to the ground and we just had to gather them. 


Nowadays, we have to clock in hours of putting up with jobs, traveling time, and stress to gather heavily processed food devoid of life-giving enzymes which most of us think we need to survive during this particular stage in our people’s evolution.


We think we have cut off the umbilical cord that once had us dependent on our mother for nutrients.  That umbilical cord is now attached to your TV set, your romantic other, your car, your house, your ATM card, and most especially, your breakfast, lunch and dinner.


It will not always be this way.  Sure, there will be awesome hindrances blocking our perspectives and right action on nutrition, government, economy and health that makes total wholistic sense.  Indeed, it will be just like climbing a very tall tree. 


I haven’t climbed a tree in more than a year now.  I miss the ants, the act of climbing up afraid and later ending up on top of the tree while a heady wind is swaying the pristine world around me.  I remember being on that tree again, looking at the deep Palawan blue.  I have no fears, not even of falling down.  I am making a choice, in between staying on this beautiful island or moving back to the world of people.  I have since then, made the choice and now live with people.  I am making a new choice. I am moving back to the beautiful island one day, but this time, the beautiful island is in my mind, and it will be big enough for the world of people. 

The Full Circle

Legend has it that Lao Tze owned the largest pearl in the world.  It was as big as a human head.  Until it was mysteriously lost. 

A few decades ago, the supposed pearl was found in Palawan.  It was the same shape and size as that of legend.  It was found by a Muslim who called it The Pearl of Allah.  The Muslim’s son got sick once, and the man who was able to save him was an American doctor.  In gratitude, the Muslim gave the pearl to the American as a gift.  In the 90’s, the American was able to sell the pearl to a Christian in San Francisco for five million dollars, where it was then named, the Pearl of Christ.  The Pearl is a wonderful vision of receployment of energy.  It is created by an oyster when it is irritated; thus, it is the expression that results from pain. 

We are called the Pearl of the Orient.  Like our Juan de la Cruz moniker connotes its English counterpart’s John of the Cross’s “Dark Nights of the Soul,” the pearl signifies the light that John states is sure to follow darkness.  Oscar Wilde once said, “dreamers must make their way by moonlight, and their only burden is that they shall see the dawn before the rest of the world.”

Legend has it that Ferdinand Magellan came to the Moluccas Islands (Malaysia) before he went back to Portugal to try to convince the King that he had found another way to the Spice Islands. As his proof, he presented to the King of Portugal, and then later, the King of Spain, a native he picked up, an “Indian” he called Enrique. Enrique, the slave. You know the official story, to keep it short, Magellan landed in Samar or Butuan, people are still contesting the first landing, but my point of interest is when he landed in Cebu.  According to Pigafetta, Magellan’s Spanish scribe, Enrique spoke to the natives in their own native dialect.  How could he speak to the native Cebuanos if he came from the Moluccas Islands.  Which has led some heady historians to claim that Enrique was not from Malaysia, but from the Philippine Islands.  Palawan is the nearest island to Malaysia; the writer/historian Diokno Manlavi presented his own rationale that Enrique is a Palaweno.  It is just possible that the first man to circumnavigate the globe is not the Spaniard as many a history book claims, but a Filipino. 

Or does it even matter that Rizal claims that there were more than a handful of Spanish-speaking Filipinos when the Spanish first landed in Luzon?    

I am at a loss as to explaining what was in these islands before the Spanish came and obliterated our culture.  I have some images and have received some revelations as to particular people to watch out for, and how the ressurgence is going to come about.  It is happening as we speak, this ressurgence of the maian resonance.  In a sense, we are circumnavigating the globe again.  Making full circle.  When Magellan fought Lapu-Lapu, Enrique jumped in front of his master to catch the flying arrows … with his body.  Enrique lived, Magellan didn’t, unconditional service won out.  The Spaniards set Enrique free, and off they sailed to Mindanao, close to death.  When they found the island abundant, they called Mindanao, The Land of Promise. They then sailed to Palawan.  Hunger stricken once again, they resorted to kidnapping the King of Paragaua, a certain Tuan Mahamud, his brother and his brother-in-law.  It was the first history of piracy in the islands.

But the King decided to give the Spaniard what they wanted in chickens, coconuts, pigs … and even doubled it, giving all these in good faith simply because there was abundance all around.  It is the paradox of all time that the ones who brought us Christianity came to convert our people when we already exemplified the same teachings they came to enforce on us through word and not through deed.

If Enrique the slave is the first Filipino domestic helper, Magellan is the first white tourist.

Come the 20th century, it is the Muslims kidnapping the white folk in Palawan and not the other way around.  Full Circle. 

If we are the Pearl of the Orient, we are an expression of beauty resulting from pain.  According to John of the Cross, we are the Unitive State that folows the Dark Nights of the Soul. 

As to this, we will have to wait and see. 


beach junkie: The Book of Life Part 2

A season would come, when you could wake up and your deserted beach would be filled up with junk.  There is nothing as disconcerting as having just spent the last three months cleaning up the beach and then suddenly finding your piece of paradise strewn with trash washed up from Neverland.

There’s a story in this.  Palawan is so far away from the rest of the Philippines that if you turn on your radio, it would receive frequencies from Malaysia and other South East Asian countries rather than Philippine radio.  Its flora and fauna are unlike those from our country, they are more akin to that of Sabah and Malaysia. 

And as it is with the trash.  As to Shampoo bottles alone, I was able to collect at least seven kinds of Procter and Gamble shampoos that came from Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, China, Taiwan, Malaysia, difficult as it is to believe.  My prize was a beautiful glass bottle with a Nazi sign at the bottom, but aside from this, there were slippers of every size and shape, Red Bull containers with unfamiliar characters on it, a ton of styrofoam and anything that has the capacity to float from other countries and end up in Kalipay beach. 

I couldn’t throw it back, it would just return with the waves.  So I was stuck with the challenge of getting rid of it without having to burn it.  I decided to create a fence.  A big fence made of junk that surrounded my Flower of Life garden where I planted my dreams and recycled my frustrations at a world gone mad. 

What is outside is inside.  Whenever I cleaned Kalipay, I was cleaning my life.  My morning habit was to pick up all the seaweed strewn on the beach and pile it on a pattern called the Vesica Piscis, where I decomposed all the biodegradable trash I could find.  I became a compost monster, sometimes obsessing about every small leaf I passed along the sandy way.  Coconut husks, especially, took a lot of my spare time, which was all the time I spent in Kalipay.  A free man’s time is all freed up.  I often had to put up with raw or bleeding hands from tearing apart coconut husks to be used as both mulch and compost fillers.  Don’t ask me why; I just felt like it decomposed me inside when I decompsed things outside.

When the leaves, the seaweed, and the coconut husks turned into soil, I was one ecstatic alchemist.  I invented a swing, using bamboo poles, some strong rope and plywood that also washed up on the beach, surrounded by a junk fence that was constructed with materials imported from around the world.  I never felt richer in my whole life. 

We keep thinking that life will fix itself when we do this, do that, take this course, eat this food, read this book, watch this movie or have enough money.  There’s another way.  The opposite way, which is to do nothing, eat nothing, read nothing, watch nothing, buy or sell nothing.  Just nothing. 

It’s like leaving something alone, and finding our life just fixes itself when we fix our inner selves.  It is the natural way, the way of nature.  Decomposition.  Before you know it, after you live in nothingness for a long enough time, manure becomes nutrients.  Death becomes life.  Frustrations become dreams, and seeds are now grown plants that are bearing highly energetic food that can take us to that higher place we call the I AM.

I was a very bad boy, with a good heart.  Few understood me when I used to speak of these things while I functioned in Corporate Manila.  I couldn’t explain why I hated myself and that I had no capacity to change before I learned the gentle art of crawling into the arms of the divine mother and letting go in a beach where junk washing up by seasons is just a part of the great cycle of life.  I’m back in the city, and there are new rules, new falls, and new dreams.  It was my inner junk that drove my frustrations, yet it was the junk that drove me to dream. Was it God via Nealle Donald Walsh that said, we somethimes have to experience Who We Are Not so that we can choose Who We Are? 

I am changing again, and so are you.  Changing and Choosing once again. There is much more to all these than you think, dear Horatios. I know you feel the same way. Thank you for being a part of all this … The Becoming. 

The Book of Life, Part 1

My dad got shot when he was a child. It was World War II. He and his cousin were unsupervised in a room, playing the gun-gun game.  When gun-gun dropped on floor, Mr. Bullet wooshed from Mr. Gun-Gun and slammed straight through my father’s lower jaw and out of his upper eye socket (God help me, my brain has blocked out which eye it was). 

The legend goes that he caught the eye fragments with his hand before he sauntered up to my innocuous grandmother stating the super obvious, “Mama, I lost my eye.”

Thus, my dad’s fleeting momentary encounter with Mr. Gun-Gun and Mr. Bullet literally triggered his having to see life through the one-eye ratio that was left.  As did his wife and children.

I was his second child, but since I was the second in a series of first males, I was bequeathed his name, which was in turn, bestowed upon him by his father. Thus, I was required by law to place three squiggly Roman numeral “I’s” after the words Alberto J. Villaraza to establish that I, I, I was the exact child to fail, fail, fail Math Quizzes 1, 2 and 3, so as not to be confused with the Alberto Villaraza Jr., Math wiz, scientist-extraordinaire, and exceptional poet.  I do not know how well the daunting Alberto Villaraza Sr. was with quadratic equations, but at any rate, pipsqueak-me was too introverted so as to be confused with my intimidating grandfather in any possible way.

Stop . . .

Why is this turning out to be a poignant tale of Sidney Sheldon proportions?  I woke up an hour ago with naught but a yen for quick jaunt to the urinal and a mug of hot Tsai. 

Truth be told?

If it is indeed time, let it be. We shall see what unfolds.

Jesus was once quoted that if your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light.  My father, who wasn’t always Alberto Jr. but more oftentimes nicknamed Bing, had but a single working eye.  The other was a fake one; it was made of smoky glass.

I can’t say if my father proved Jesus right.  But that one working eye must have been a marvel unto its own.  I remember one instance when I needed help with my homework once. I asked him to read two long pages (small print) for his advice.  He took maybe six to eight seconds to read the whole text.  I was sure he was showing off.  So I started to ask him all kinds of things from the text.  He answered them all.  Names, numbers, even qualitative details.  That is one of the few memories of Bing I haven’t blocked out that made me realize that he belonged to the sort of people who had the memory of cameras and Xerox machines. 

There seemed to be other benefits to having one eye.  Bing excelled at sports that required you to keep one eye winked.  Like bowling, billiards, or ironically, shooting a telescoped rifle.   The same applied to science, for his main interest was devoted to biology, where you had to spend all day with one eye shut while another gazes into those old-style microscopes that lets you into the infinitesimal world of cells. 

My own disadvantage with having to live with daddy’s single eye was more Stephen King than Sidney Sheldon.  Before I had learned the art of skepticism, Bing convinced me that one part of him kept awake even as he slept.  His proof was that when he took off his trademark aviator shades as he snoozed, one spooky glass eye always kept open. 

And it was with conviction that my dad said that I must always behave because he was watching me with his smoky-gray eye even while he was taking his morning and afternoon naps. 

As my dad snored away, I was a mouse in a corner, tracing the superheroes in my comic books or transmogrifying my Transformer figurines from car to robot, robot to car, car to robot, and so on. If I had to cut across his room and use his bathroom, I tiptoed. 

When I grew out of my toys, my interests turned towards my dad’s massive collection of books.  For a kid who had to live under the tutelage of my father’s all-seeing eye, the books were my only chance to escape the four walls of my house and later, the safety of our gated subdivision. 

One by one, I devoured whatever paperbacks and hard bounds had attractive enough cover art, not yet developing a sixth sense of filtering what had value and what did not.  Most of the books were acquired in second-hand book shops so you can imagine what was bought for the sake of 50%-off discounts and buy-one-take-one deals, usually partitioned into store shelves because people either didn’t want to buy them in the first place, or they were so mass-produced that one could find maybe a dozen copies in just a single store.  Many of these were either self-help like “How to Quit Smoking in 60 days or “How to clean your house using just vinegar” or just those ratty pulp fiction paperbacks.

I think he bought a small bulk of his library brand new. Most of them were popular Spy-vs.-Spy such as Ludlums, Forsythes, and Flemings, but once in a while, a Sheldon, a Clavell, or even a Richard Bach can be stumbled on.  If I looked hard enough, a Thomas Hardy or a Friedrich Nietzsche might be unearthed. 

Back in those days, there were only three or four channels on television, mostly Marshall Law-programmed at that.  I was often grounded for long stretches of time, for lines of below seventy-five in math and science, and so you can just imagine what it must have been like living in that two-story house with just those books to tell me what sort of life proliferated beyond our well-manicured garden.  

The key was timing.  I was in that moment when I was just beginning to redefine what my own take on Newtonian, Aristotelian and Euclidean parameters of 3-D reality.  There is a certain stage in one’s life when suddenly, the real world expands outward like a lit match underneath a summer-dried pile of leaves.  Without ample warning, your alphabet-soup existence towered over by He-Man, Optimus Prime, Voltes Five, and Voltron-Defender-of-the-Universe falls over, to be replaced by superheroes of a more complex make.  If it wasn’t Frank Hardy, Hugh Hefner, The Brothers Kamarazov or the Mayor of Casterbridge, it was an aspiring seagull named Jonathan Livingston or a Little Prince that travelled across the galaxies in search of a better way of loving a rose. 

My dad’s constant motto was to “minimize the risk.”  He thought that I could live with his books at the same time resonate with the same fears he had of the world.  I didn’t get shot when I was a child.  I wasn’t afraid to fly for I hadn’t yet lived through the falls. 

After puberty, Bing still opted to maintain his strict house rules: 6 pm curfews when I was still 18, having to ask permission to go out at night up to my early 20’s, getting grounded several times for an entire year in high school for failing one subject in two quarters.  It was typical for a teenager like me for the villains in those stories to morph into my father’s face.  He curtailed my freedom, when it was he who also advised me to read my very first novel – Six Against The Rock – the true story of how six inmates tried the only almost successful escape from the most secure prison in the world, Alcatraz Island.

I began to imagine that there was a rabbit hole at the wall directly underneath my air-conditioner.  Every night, I pretended that I snuck out and was Bruce Lee or Axl Rose for a night, carefully replacing the magic hole when I returned from my nocturnal adventures. 

Until the day I learned just how easy it was to put my blanket over some fluffed-up pillows, leave the stereo on, and jump over the fence.  It didn’t take me long to learn the laborious art of pushing the car from the garage to start it a few good block away where my slumbering parents upstairs still think their middle child is dead to the world downstairs. 

When my family bought a townhouse in the city, it became easier when I was awarded the room that had the fire-escape ladder right outside my third-story window.   I watched and danced to many a good band and DJ that way. In college, I drank like a fish and drove drunk like a dervish, lucky to come home unscathed, the car still dent-less.  By my early twenties, I was an expert in opening the squeaky gate and climbing to my room right before the early rays hit my sometimes vomit-stained fenders.     

One of Bing’s favorite books is Dale Carnegie’s best-selling self-help, How to Win Friends and Influence People.  When he was still alive, he neither won nor influenced me in any way he wanted.  Instead, I maintained a rebellion that lasted for more than a decade, the same that eventually drove me into an intense vision quest for personal freedom that lasted long after my father’s strict tenets had no more direct influence on me.    

Palawan Writings

I was normally a fraidy cat.  I was known all around for being Mr. Negative. I hated that. So much that I was willing to leave it all and withstand society’s judgments that I was insane and reckless for doing so.  This was clear to me all throughout my stay. I just had to stay in that island long enough to the point when I wasn’t proving anything anymore.  And to melt away the patterns I knew covered a much larger pattern that hides not just Me, but all of Us.


I found my Palawan writings recently.  I don’t know if this might be of value to you as much as it is helping me now to remember …


I had been staying in the Beach for half a year. After a few days of fitful sleeplessness, I found myself writing ceaselessly for around two days straight in a way I have never written before.  Knowledge from books I had read in the past, experiences I had undergone, and a strange but blissful oneness I rarely find seemed to be readily accessible at the black tip of a cheap pen  a and a stack of yellow ruled pad. I did not know what was to come, this inner dance thing in front of us.


The date was 9/11/2005.  I later sent the original pages off to Manila via another chance visitor who passed by the beach.  Incredibly, the writings found its way to my mother who had been searching for me for more than a year now after I left the matrix. Today, I am reading it again in Mindanao, as if a long-lost friend had written it.   


Before I began to write, I had been fasting for some weeks when a visitor arrived and I gave in to my craving cooked food which I had been resisting for almost a year already.  Before then, when I was living on live enzymes only, I experienced pure bursts of overwhelming energy, then suddenly weakening to the point of immobility for days on end.  I felt physically sated most of the time, not experiencing hunger for a few weeks, then suddenly, strong cravings for heavy food would take over me.  Mentally, I was generally tranquil save for moments of restiveness and agitation during moments of intense emotional and bodily withdrawals.


By then, I had also managed to grow some simple vegetables in a garden that took the form of The Flower of Life, the fruits of which I consumed, raw: a few string beans and edible leaves. My main diet consisted of coconuts, and when I ate at all, it would be just one coconut a day.


Some pages are missing and some words have blurred over time, but most were preserved. I will try to reconstruct the text as it was written as fully as I possibly can, and to resist the urge to edit what I had to write then without computers or even electric lighting. 


It was titled Scrabbled Schizophrenia.  Scrabbled because I discovered an old Scrabble Set on the island and for two months, have learned how to play Scrabble against yourself.  What you do is to just keep forming words on the board, trying to beat your last score.  It may seem loony, but alone in a beach, this can get obsessing.  The next thing I knew, my mind was jumbling words, seeing patterns everywhere.  The word Schizophrenia … have you ever found your lower self separating from the higher at the same time?  Your consciousness splits in two and you’re within them both, testing one with the other, until they both agree to find a unity between themselves.  This is what happened to me on paper.


Here is the text:


This Kalipay food grows not for your survival

            it grows for your growth.

As you now enter into another kind of world,

            so are you entering into another kind of body.

Stop trying to hurry the process. To strive too hard

            before readiness sets in, is like trying to shout

                        at your plants to hurry.

            yet … that isn’t their nature.  Nature takes its time,

Living not just in the moment, but also …

            loving the unexpected.  Loving the surprise

                        that takes form in the faces of those who

live lives without expectations.

Sometimes, as you yourself noticed, it is good to strive,

            it is good to be constant in positive energy –

But sometimes, in all his trying, man tends to judge himself, maybe …

            a tad bit too harshly.  Too seriously.

                        Anything on Earth was created for a reason.

            In moderation, all food have inherent in it,

                        them a purpose for being there, organic or synthetic.

            Without many of them, man would not have achieved

                        the complexity that now characterizes his

            immense societies and civilizations.

What is happening now is that you, like some before you,

            and multitudes to follow, are choosing a way,

a path to a kind of evolutionary leap that doesn’t just

            preserve and improve on the great creations

                        your race has manifested,

                                    but to also inject in them,

                                                a functionality, a simple and

                                                            harmonious way that you have dreamed of

                                                                        for a long, long time now.

The path to this Hidden Harmony isn’t easy.

            It can be quite uncomfortable, daunting many individuals

                        who seem to be much, much more qualified to achieve

                                    what you are trying to achieve.

All persons existing on Earth at this very moment,

            carry in them the sum total of all experiences

                        ever experienced by those souls who have come before them.

            Everywhere you go, no matter what you do, a chance, big and infinitesimal

                        exists, where you may go up or down, left and right,

                                    forward and backwards.

A part of you has control over this.  A part that plants seeds,

            waters the plants, and turns the compost.

                        The other half of you, the hidden and invisible half

                                    can be said to be underground.

                                                Or in the heart of the earth.

The first part is like your father, whom for now we will call

                                                Mr. Yang;

            While the other part is like your mother,

                                                Mrs. Yin.

Like most females who feel their way through their lives,

            Mrs. Yin deals with growth through emotions.

                        For you, who like to rationalize everything, just like Mr. Yang,

                                    this part of creation can be – and has been –

                                                very unfamiliar territory.

                                    It’s like being underground.  Why, you ask?

Because up to now, you judge things based on what your eyes can see, what your fingers can touch, what your nose can smell, and what your ears hear.

There is a different kind of knowing that does not rely on what your senses

tell your brain to think.  Also, a different kind of planting.

            Whereas Mr. Yang sows seeds,

                        Mrs. Yin conceives.

It’s a vastly different world from your tendency to

            think your way through life. 

It takes much faith, to trust feelings. It’s literally

            like living on another planet.

One isn’t more perfect than the other,

            merely different ways of knowing things.

For a tree to mature, its branches will strive,

            reaching upwards to capture the light.

                        Its roots are equally as important

                                    obtaining water and nutrients.

Have you noticed this, in your own life?

            The need to have both feet on the ground,

                        whenever both your eyes are on the heavens?

Just a few days ago, after fasting for so many days,

            you felt clarity in mind a spirit.

                        Your body wasn’t that content, though.

                        It was weak.

                        So you gave in to its carving for cooked food.

                        Yet, did you notice how you didn’t feel weak this time,

                                    upon giving into your cravings?

It was because of your tiredness.

You’re tired of judging what’s good for you, and what’s not.

It’s very good to give in sometimes,

            before you start collecting negative energy again.

            What’s the use of a live enzyme diet, when

            you fill your body with destructive thoughts, anyway?

Instead of good and bad, try … what works and what doesn’t.

            Instead of controlling your diet too much,

                        try SEEing what certain foods do to you.

            Mr. Yang would say: “you are what you eat.”

                        Mrs. Yin would say: “you eat who you are.”

Both of them are correct.

            But a more functional statement would be,

                        to listen to both your father and mother is more complete.

                                    More whole.

(I know that you cannot make a whole, “wholi-er,”

            but that’s another lesson for a later time.)

To try to achieve an end by acting out the means

            without seeing what the act and the end means,

                        is like … how do I put this …

                                    It’s like almost everything being done on Earth


Mankind lives on a tree, a gargantuan tree

            whose branches, kept branching out further and further,

                        until its once playful inhabitants got lost in

                                    separate innumerable branches,

                        not knowing how to get back to the ground.

            Its roots, too, have spread and diverged into so many complex ways

that those who live below ground cannot dig their way back up.

Most of those who are lost believed,

            for a very long time now,

            that the branch or root

they live in is the

best branch

best root

or only branch

or only root

on The Tree of Life.

And some of Those who realize

that they live not on a branch or root

but on a tree that is rooted and branches out, don’t even see the forest yet.

There’s a harmonious way to go back to the center of The Tree of Life

            that will allow you to find your way to other branches

                        without losing your way again.

                                    It’s very simple.

                                                You must








With all your ears. All three of them.

Two can be found on your head.  Your third EAR

is at the heart of your hEARt.  Your first two

                                    are good for listening.

                                                The EAR of your hEARt

                                                is there only for hearing.

                                                Or better yet,

                                                            only for here-ing.

                                                Can you hear me yet?

                                                            Are you here now?

The way to go back to the center of the tree, is to hear

            the first and last truth.  This is all you need to know.

                        The word, “HEART,” as you should by now know, is made up

                                    of the same elements as the word “EARTH.”  For this moment

                                                of mankind’s stay on this planet, the way to the center

                                                                                                            or better yet,

                                                the center itself, is at the HEART of the EARTH.

                                                                                                Why only this moment?

                        Because that’s where mankind buried, in thinking his way through life,

Womankind.  In his striving, in getting list in the branches of his

sciences, commerce, politics, and other parts of the male

-driven myth, he forgot his other half;

            His scientific and aggressive half forgot that at the HEART of the EARTH,

The Art of Living

            had to give way to the science of living.

It doesn’t apply to all, of course.  We’re speaking of society

            in a generalized sense, like how you would view … a matrix.

Thinking and feeling,

            science, art, religion, education, history, culture, any idea ever created

                        is not more perfect that the other.

                                    This is a very necessary point

                        at this particular point

            in history.

It’s time.

            It’s about time to see the tree as a whole, before you get lost

            in one of the branches again.

Can you hear me now?

Are you here?

            Get ready.

                        Breathe in.  Out.

                                    We’re about to jump to an even bigger scale.

                        Imagine if the Tree of Life is the planet you live on.

                                                            Whatever is left of it, anyhow.

                        The Heart of the Earth is commonly believed to be its core,

                                    that boiling magma that erupts in volcanic pops once in a while.

                        It’s not.

                        It’s everywhere, walking around bumping into each other

                                                            without smiling or saying hi.

                        That’s because the heart of the EARTH is also

                                                 The HEART of MAN.

                        Here’s a more complete picture.

                                                The HEART of the EARTH

                                         and the HEART of MAN

                                         is also

                                                The HEART of GOD.

Let me give you an even clearer view of the forest.

            The HEART of the EARTH, MAN, and GOD are also

            The HEARTS of aardvarks, ants, antelopes, nuthatches, nautilus seashells, germs, blue-green algae, rocking chairs, martians, asteroids, Superman, Hydrogen atoms, The Flying Dutchman, the word “obsequious,” the Grim Reaper, and floating spirits. 

            The HEART is the center, the core, the crux of a thing,

But it could also pertain to the essence, the soul, the very fibre of things.

Imagine this.

A seed.

A mustard seed.


A mustard tree.

A hundred mustard seeds.

Bigger Bang.

A hundred mustard trees.


Ten Thousand mustard seeds.


A mustard forest.  In only three cycles.

Now, the seed is the heart of a thing.

It contains not just the grand design of the Tree of Life.

That tiny seed you can hardly even see contains inside it,

The potential of a forest so large that you wouldn’t have time to explore it

in a hundred lifetimes.

You yourself came from a seed your naked eye can’t see.

You contained all that potential, yet you also had the potential not to be.

But you ARE.  Look at you now.  Trillions of cells born every second.

Can you hear me?

Can you see?

See the seeds within.

The seeds within the seed.

The Seed of Life is the DNA, it its physical manifestation. 

                        Here’s a question you should be thinking by now.

            Is it your DNA that defines who you are?


            Is it you who have the power to define your DNA?

Don’t let your mind do all the seeing, all the listening.

Give it a moment.

Who are you, really?

Just what in the world are you?  Really?

            If you gathered all your missing parts,

                        if you find a way to your whole-iest self,

                                    harmonizing all of you, all your potentials

                                                contained not just in everything you’ve experienced

                                                            in all of your lives, nut in those of others as well,

          that’s if you believe you have access to them –


            What would your life then be like?


                                    Give it a moment.

You are the creator, Mr. Yang, sower of seeds.

You are the conceiver, Mrs. Yin, grower of the Tree if Life.

                                    Are you big enough to find your way back

                                                to your first parents?

                                    The roots are very, very deep.

                                    To survive the journey takes

                                    immense readiness.

                                                Tremendous wisdom.

                                    A gargantuan amount of energy.

                        You have many leaves on this stack of yellow paper.

                                    Lots of ink left in that pen.

                                                Are you big enough?

                                                Are you ready?                       Rest for a second.

It all seems so simple, doesn’t it?

            Like, it applies to everything, yet …

                        as if it applies to nothing at all.

            It’s partly like we’re going places,

            but partly as if we’re going in circles.

This is because the Tree of Life is everything and nothing.

            It is everywhere, every speck of inner and outer space;

                        And all those in it?

                                    Well, they’re all going in circles.

                                    Or, a finer way to put it, cycles.

                                    The Tree of Life


                                                            The Cycle of Life.

                                    Everything is turning into Nothing.

                                    Nothing is turning into Everything.




            Can you hear?  Are you here?

Tarzan was making his way up to the treehouse, looking for Jane.  He can’t find her.  Up, up, higher and higher, he goes, until he comes upon …

A fruit.

Yum Yum.

(some versions of the story will have Jane forcing the fruit into his mouth).

But this one’s different.

It isn’t the history of the Cycle of Life.

Neither is it the herstory of the Cycle of Life.

It’s only a story.  A simple one, concerning two people,

Primal Dad, and Primal Mum.

So anyway, Mr. Yang, err, I mean, Tarzan alights upon the Fruit of Life.

Crunch! Yum Yum.

It’s good.  In fact, it’s very good.  Exactly what one would expect from the Fruit of Life.

More!  More, he wants, his stomach urging him on. 

            And so, he strives, creating a life patter aimed only at living a fruitful, successful, profitable, productive life.

                                                                        The end.

                                                            Or more likely,

                                                                        The end of the beginning.

Evening falls.  Tarzan finds Jane on a branch.  She is staring.

            Staring.  He ambles his way for a closer look.

                                                                        She is staring at a Flower.

“Ugh, Ugh!” Tarzan perspicaciously articulates.  By now, he has invented

the double-breasted Armani and the alligator-skinned attaché case he is now

opening to take out patent application papers, insurance forms, contracts, in case this curious object proves to be instrumental in gaining for him more success in his impressive existence on this big Tree.

                                                            She is staring at the Flower.

                                                            She is smiling.

Surely something worth being this idle, this languid, torpid about must be worth

something.  Especially with more success zipping past Tarzan’s nose since by this time, it doesn’t take him long to

            eat it.

                        “Ugh, Ugh – Ugh-Hug-Guh!”

                                                            The beginning of the end.

Looking closer at the branch, you would notice that the branch, umm, branches out.

So do the roots.  Just looking at the leaves will reveal the same branching out pattern.

It would take a genius, or an imbecile,

            a saintly monk to subsist on this Earth

            without losing one’s center here.

You yourself, a good 200km away from the next mall, living on a deserted

                        beach island with 2 dogs and a cat,

                        doing nothing save for playing scrabble with yourself

                        Planting a garden at the Heart of the Earth,

            with your Robinson Crusoe existence, you yourself

            fall out of sync, out of harmony with the small amount of distractions

            this Garden of Eden contains.  Your choices are much simpler than

            those who live in rat-race, DOG-eat-DOG environs.

                        Yet, you too fall out of sync.

                        You too, ask:

                                    To be fruitful?

                                    Or to flower?

                                                That is the question.

                                                            Where did you get lost?

                                                                        At which part of the Tree?

                                                                                    What happened?

                                                                                    What happened to you?

                                                                                                To all of you?

                                    Stop writing. Rest again.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

                                    The beginning of what?

            Let’s go back to the beginning of the end, the same spot

                        we’re bound to find the end of the beginning

                                    of the eternal cycle of life.

                                                            Where is that, you ask?

                                    You know there was something missing in the Tree of Life story.

                                                Let’s go back to the time of the serpent.

In ancient Egypt, the palin-genesis symbol is

                        a serpent eating its own tail,

            forming that shape called, the circle.

Of course, snakes wouldn’t really do that.  Dogs to that, though they

never really got around to actually catching it. 

            Now, looking through the cosmic mirror, the word





            The cycle of life becomes clearer, when you experience everything in between what it means to actualize your canine or your divine potential.

            Between DOG and GOD is the Letter


            The Cycle of Life.

                        Notice the ever-popular Zen koan,

            “Does a dod have a Buddha nature?”

                        Yes of no?

Those unfamiliar with Zen Buddhism would think about it.  I would, and I would think and think, and keep on thinking until I found an answer, if I didn’t know that Zen Buddhists would say neither.  That’s because they have a third word, other than yes or no.


It means what it means.  Not yes, not no.

It’s a tool they commonly use to silence the mind.

A more sublime explanation is that the question asked is too small, too pathetic

            to contain what is a truth too big, too awesome, too infinite

                        to fit inside a box.

– I’ve been here in Kalipay Beach for almost six months now.

            Ironically, I think today is September 11, 2005, the day two towers fell.

– I’ve learned many things since I’ve stepped off the boat, on my first day here.

            I look at myself now, and wow, how different I am now.  And then,

            I look again.

            I’m still the same person who just stepped off that boat.

                                                “What does the boat say to you?”

  Well, literally, it has a big sign on the side painted, KALIPAY MU.

                                                “What does that mean for you?”

  Literally?  Kalipay means happiness, Mu means “my” in the Philippines.

                                                “Are you happy?”

  YES.  Yes and no.  I’m content.  I’m on the way to becoming happier, that I can feel

I’m headed somewhere good.  I wouldn’t be here if not for that belief.  It feels lonely sometimes.  People come for a short time, and it’s nice.  They leave, and it’s still nice and peaceful.  I still crave for electricity and food, but very little now, compared to before.

“Kalipay is a Visayan word.  In your own dialect, what would be a more exact translation of Happiness?”

  Well, masaya.  There’s also “maligaya.”  Is there a difference?

                                                “What do you think?”

   I think “masaya” is short-term.  Like eating a candy bar and the next minute, it’s gone.  Maligaya sounds more like “joyful.”  Like being in this beach, which I’ve always yearned for. It’s more lasting.

                                                “What is this beach to you?”

  Well, if I was a machine, I would automatically answer, “paradise,” just what Richard said in the Alex Garland book, The Beach.

                                                “Like the Garden of Eden?”

  Like the Beach of Eden, with an organic garden in it.  I think a lot of people in this day and age see this kind of life as the closest current view of paradise, a return to the natural way of doing things.

Why is that?

            “MU means, ask again, rethink your question, see things differently,

                                                            Without splitting hairs.

            MU is an arrow pointing to your divine potential,

                       An arrow pointing at GOD who lives outside of yes or no.

            When you started to write these pages, you were in a state of MU

                        Allowing you access to a part of yourself that was hidden

                                    That was buried in your heart.  You gave EAR to your HEART.

                                                You’re here now. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  So if you’re MU, who am I?

            “MU stands for many things.  So do you.  For now, MU stands for

                                    I M. U.

                                    I am you.

                                    Mu stands for me and you.  MU.

                        I am you, living your divine potential.

                        I am you, in oneness with GOD in you.

            The answer to your query then can be found in a few eloquent words by Aldous

                        Huxley: “To every DOG, every man is GOD.”

            The letters that sandwich the letter “O” are significant, as we shall tackle later. 

            For now, it is enough for you to know that you were once chasing your own tail,

            And now, you have caught it, or maybe better, “caught up with it.

            Your tail is a serpent stuck to your rear.  It is what keeps you running around

                        In circles, chasing Me.  You don’t need to chase me.”

  So, I’m a DOG and you are GOD?

            “You are whatever you choose yourself to be.

            You are yes, no, or MU.

            You are D,G, or O.

            Do not find yourself getting stuck in circles, lost in branches again.

            Find your way to your center, find a way to the Tree.

            Find your way to stay centered, even as you choose to explore the Tree.

            It isn’t difficult to connect to a source of life that isn’t easily broken.

            Simply, find your way to ME.

            Notice how many movies, photographic images and even written stories are set in

the beach, the Hallmark-Kodak moment being sunset.”

  Yes, I’ve noticed it, but more on a personal level.  I don’t have to see it in a movie, or a cheap poster, it’s imprinted on my mind as symbolic of that pure happy moment.

            “It is symbolic.  In your world that is fraught with choices, the beach during

            Connotes oneness.  It is in the middle of everything, time and space. 

                        The beach is the mid-point between water and earth.

                        The sunset is the mid-point between light and dark.”

  You’re right.  But not everyone can be at the beach all the time.  And it’s sunrise and sunset for a few minutes every day, that’s if it’s not cloudy or raining. 

            “Within you exists light and dark, water and earth, fire and air.  No matter where

you are or what time it is.  Your happiness, your true happiness will come with the realization that Kalipay beach rests inside your heart. 

True happiness lies in whether your Kalipay rests on MU.”

-How do I manage to do that all the time, no matter where I am?

“You don’t do it.  It’s a matter of being in it.  I understand the difficulty in this.  This is where most of you get tangled up, on your way to me.  Let’s trace our way back to the time and place of the great split.”

-Sounds good to me.

            “In the beginning of the Biblical Genesis was to Void.  Out of this nothingness, a

voice hollered, ‘Turn the Lights On!’  The Hindus called first Matter, ‘UM,’ or MU reversed.  Now, your parents taught you not to be selfish, whether you start acting like you are the center of the universe, of all existence.  What could you do?  Whenever you go to sleep, the universe ends.  When you awaken, BANG, life begins.  The split in question, is life itself.  To live in absolute MU is to go back to UM, absolute darkness, or in some cultures, absolute light.  The EARTH, as you know it, could only be created in duality.”

  So technically, I’m always in the middle then?  Of UM and MU?

            “The middle is a relative concept.  It is arbitrary.  It is always moving, depending

on the choices that you make.  It depends on Who You Are Choosing To Be.”

  Given how many choices are available, that’s not as easy as it sounds.

“It’s not about what is easy or hard.  It’s not about judging anything.  To see into things, truly see into things, is to see beyond choices.  Let’s look at an example.  Look at the beach cove fronting Kalipay.  It is a mountain range that looks like a sleeping dragon.  The dragon, people say, is mythical.  It is the middle of everything, like everything else.  Look at it.  See it? 

The dragon is both the serpent and the eagle in one.

It is the meeting point of the two states of consciousness, the higher state and the lower. 

In Egypt, the Eye of Horus is sandwiched by the vulture and the cobra.

In Peru, the condor and the rattlesnake, and between them is the puma.

For American Indians, usually the rattlesnake and eagle flanking the mountain lion.

In Tibet, the pig is in the middle of the chicken and snake.  And so on.

  I’m loving this.  I was born in the year 1976, a fire dragon year.  So the trick is to be the dragon, or is it the higher state, the eagle?

            “The key word here is, ‘relationship.’  The key question is,

                        ‘what is the point in all this?’

            The universe began in oneness. One point and pointlessness, complete unto itself.

It is bow made up of infinite parts, moving around in circles.  Life, simplified is polar. Hot, Cold; Male, Female; East, West; Up, Down, etc.

                        So one point becomes two.


                        Which used to be, one point.


                                    What you may symbolize as the circle.

The two points, meeting, is called a line, symbolizing the tension of duality, each point pushing, or tending life leftwards or rightwards, creating a ‘relationship.’ 


            The reality contained in the circle is full of crisscrossing lines. Within this

geometrical framework, MU state depends on whether you manage to define the relationship between polarities, while maintaining your center, viewing A and B as points at the edges of the circle through the points of MU, the center.

In mathematical terms, the relationship of the line to the circle is Pi, or 3.14.  Pi stands for many things.

P.I. stands for the Philippine Islands.

P.I. stands for Putang Ina, signifying the bastardized mother we earlier talked about.

Pi is the 16th letter of the Greek alphabet, their letter ‘P.”

We’ll talk about the other meanings of Pi later, but for now, let’s focus on the last mentioned, and the Chinese definition of Pi.

Pi is a Chinese Tai Chi form and Hexagram meaning, ‘be still’ or ‘don’t move.’  Let’s look at the symbol again. (figure drawn)

You’ll find this in the microcosm and the macrocosm, where each point of creation is circling around a center.  In the cosmic sense, the moon around the Earth, around the Sun, around the galaxy, around the Universe.  In the quantum sense, it’s the quarks, around the nucleus, the atom, the electrons, the cell, and so on.

The dynamic relationship seems orbital, when there are actually unseen forces that pushes or pulls a point towards or away from the center.  Galaxies like the Milky Way make this evident, represented by the spiral.  The spiral represents naught else, but movement.  The process in which the points in all creation flow inward and outward the hearts or essence of the entire universe.

The process is slow.  It is very slow for most of you, save for those miracle workers who manage to evolve to the point where they can manipulate or move energy from within and without.  How? 

The key word, as I already mentioned, is ‘relationship.’

To relate to any other point requires centering.  Centering means finding who one truly is, choosing that point as his heart, and thus, discovering that all things, all points related, are one, and more importantly, all points contain the center of all created things.

Because the process inwards or outwards is hardly noticed by some, especially by those who live machine-like lives ruled by routines and habits, an illusion of security and stasis pervades.

Your popular culture calls this the Matrix, whereas the Hindus and Buddhists call it Maya.

For Buddhists, Maya is the world of Illusion.

For Hindus, Maya is the magic spell entrancing man who plays a part in a very elaborate play.

Whereas Pi in Chinese connotes a point circling around the nucleus, it signifies the part of a whole having to be stuck in the experience of being separated from wholeness.

The play is a grand production, so real and intense, that it takes great

energy to keep it turning.  Electrons, for instance, of the most

            complex elements, revolve farther away from the nucleus,

requiring more energy to hold it together as

compared to a single Hydrogen electron.      

You’re currently taking part in a play that is about to take a twist in the plot.  It has done this twisting and turning many times before, sometimes earth-shaking, and often, unnoticeable. 

The explains the life-changing experiences you had to undergo.

The points inside you are changing, just as you, a part or a point in your own

society, are about to change a bigger whole.

You once jumped from MU to Pi.  Let’s look at Genesis, Pied.  If Pi is 3.14, what

does Genesis 3:14 say?

– “So the Lord God said to the serpent: ‘because you have done this, you are cursed … on your belly you shall go, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life.’ – Genesis 3:14

What does that mean?

“The key words here are belly, eat and dust.  And – serpent.  Centuries before the Old Testament was written, a Babylonian epic describes the hero Gilgamesh who finds the Tree of Life.  He finds it, but before he tastes it, a serpent jumps out of nowhere and grabs the fruit from Gilgamesh.”

  Which is the opposite of the Old Testament version, huh?

“The fruit of Life is more than symbolic.  Anthropologists have found out since the early 1970’s that early man’s diet consisted of only fruits.  Notice how the first characters in the Old Testament lived up to almost a thousand years.”

  So what you’re saying is that life was different then?

“Life like Heraclitus’ River of Life is always different.  It is never the same river, never the same life, just as you’re never the same person.”

  What does this have to do with Mu and Pi?

“Good.  You’re starting to see in a wider perspective.  Pi stands for the Philippine Islands.  On Palawan where you are now, people call each other ‘pai.’  Filipinos as a whole call each other ‘Juan de la Cruz.’  In English, which is …?”

  John of the Cross.  So?

            “Read me The Book of John, Pied.”

– “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up” – John 3:14.

            “What does John and Genesis, Pied, have in common?

  Serpent.  Genesis cursed the serpent to live by his belly, on the ground.  John did the opposite.  Yes, that kind of connects.

            “Moses was mentioned.  Let’s try Exodus Pied.”

  “and God said to Moses, ‘I AM Who I AM.’ – Exodus 3:14

“Thank you.  Now, apart from this being the name of God, the exact translation of the Hebrew text is actually, “I AM Who I AM Becoming.”

  What do the three passages mean?

            “I think you know.”

  For now, I’m just looking at the connections.  Man must go to the basics to transcend the serpent, be the eagle? 

            “Close, but we can do much better.  Relate all this to experience.”

  I did most of my walking in Mindanao.  Its ancient name was Ma-I.

            “Okay, which is I AM, reversed.  And?”

  It’s the home of the Philippine Eagle, our national bird.  The old one was the Maya.

            “Which is Ayam, reversed.  And?”

– Well, Moses found God in a mountain.  The highest peak in the Philippines is in Ma-I, and this is where most of the eagles are based.  OK, lemme see.  The serpent, cursed on his belly.  Moses, fresh from Egypt, slavery, big city and all, climbs the mountain and meets God.  His walking stick becomes a snake.  He frees his buddies from bondage, Jesus acting as the symbol of the eagle in flight.  He who spent 40 days (like Moses) in the wilderness, where Maya is reversed.  How’s that?

“Notice how we are working with symbols.  All of life, as you have noticed, ultimately converges in beautiful symmetry through the most basic symbols.  For instance, notice how all our elements begin with the same letters.  The letter M, for instance.  In Greek, M is MU or µ.

It is the 12th letter in the Greek alphabet, whereas

                                                Pi or ¶

            Is the 16th letter in the Greek alphabet.

Here’s a new element I would like to put in.  Kali, purportedly the oldest spirit to inhabit the Earth.  Symbolizing the mother goddess, the creator and destroyer of life, she also completes the equations these pages are to unravel. 

The beach you’re in is called Kalipay Mu, or

                        Kali-¶-µ. Your happiness.

It is Kali’s journey from ¶ to µ.

Mu is the name of the lost continent submerged in the Pacific.  Many of your country’s history books claim the Philippine Islands as the remnants of Mu.  The islands scattered, all 7,107 of them represent the parts, separated.  While the idea of the continent represents the whole.

Mu is the origin of life.  It is no coincidence that the owner of this beach painted that sign on the boat in tribute to the monkeys that were plentiful there just a few years ago.  Up to now, you canhear some of them in the early morning and on some sunsets. – ‘Mu,’ they remind you of your ancestry.”

  I thought only cows went ‘Moo!’  It did unravel in such an incontrovertible manner.  I

was just reading Cerve’s Lemuria. Which talked about two interesting things.  That early legends in Northern California spoke of an island ruled by a Queen Kalifa near the Garden of Eden . In the vicinity of those parts is an island, oops, no, a mountain named Mt. Mu-Pi.  How does that connect?

“You have to be patient.  Any teaching worth its salt circle around the elusive point for a reason. One of the reasons you would understand is that true inner reality cannot be expressed in words.

But we’ve let loose quite a lot of elements which will have to get tied up before we stretch things even further.

– Can you help me summarize before we move on.

            “My idea is to let some of your experiences do the weaving.”

– I’m hesitant but willing.  I may as well jump to the big one that almost ties all of these together.

“My advice for you is to take it slowly.  There’s still plenty of pages left in that pad, plenty of ink left in that pen.”

  I was living in Los Angeles having moved from San Francisco, after quitting a good-paying job in an investment firm. Everyday it would call me from the house where I was rooming; the mountain called San Gabriel. It was too far, and too crazy a journey.  I had no cash, no car, and almost a 100 mile walk.  No way.

But the voice called.  So I waited.

One morning, it was unmistakable.  I had to surrender.  The voice said someone’s out there, looking for me.  My compromise was to go out on my regular jog at the local school track.  After 20 minutes, I headed for home, still sleepy, feeling sheepish.  A Mexican was by the road holding a map, looking at me, searching for something in my face.

I stopped.  His first words were,

            “I’m trying to find the mountains but I can’t find my way.”

I blurted out, “I think I’m supposed to show you.”

Bang!  Seven words blurted out, and a whirlwind just sucked me into this strangeness.  It was then unfathomable, yet it felt so natural.

I jumped into this total stranger’s car. I told him to pas by my house in West Covina to pick up a book and my wallet.

Here are some of the very few snippets remember of the hazy conversation we had inside that car.  It happened in 2002 so some of it’s quite hazy in my mind.:

– “I go up to the mountain to look for my father whenever I feel lost,” he offers.

I didn’t know what to say to that.

-Here’s an interesting one: “Every time I need help (remembering), I took this man up the mountain.  Every time he needed my help, I take him up.  But this is the last time we have to do this,” he said.

It was about that time when my surroundings suddenly changed.  Like I was in the car but not in the car.  Like I was the wind, the trees and everything else, but still me.  It was just absolute oneness.  All this while riding the car of a total stranger headed to the unknown. 

– “we’re going to walk,” he announced. But we were driving upwards, so I didn’t believe it when he said that.  It was still early in the morning and more than a bit chilly, a cold December.  We had probably been driving for around 30 to 40 minutes by then.

– The roadblock.  I remember it well. From out of nowhere.  We stepped out.  His first question was : “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

– What would you do?  I said “yes, I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.  I’ve come so far.”

– He answered, “even if there’s a chance we won’t make it back down anymore?”

He opens the trunk, takes out two jackets.  And a Bible.  He tells me he marked something in it and he thinks it’s for me.

  The 11-hour walk began.  He began with the Bible passage.  Isaiah 2:2-5:

“Now it shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on the top of the mountains and shall be exalted over the hills, and all nations shall stream towards it

Many peoples shall come and say, ‘Come, and let us go up to the Mountain of the Lord; He will teach us his ways and we shall walk in his path.’  From out of Zion shall instructions go forth and the Word.  He shall judge between nations and rebuke many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.

O House of Jacob, come and let us walk into the Light of the Lord.”

                                                                        – Isaiah 2:2-5

Then he proceeded to tell me about things yet to come.  About people I shall meet, things I will show them.  Walks I would walk.  He told me a bit about my past, but more than enough to make me a believer that he was looking through my sould.  He told me about my past lives and this current one.

Now, most of what he predicted would happen to me had already happened, whilst some are happening as we speak.  I don’t want to have to re-tell an entire 11-hour journey which I can’t recall entirely, but the gist of it is I find myself incredulous that it never really happened at all.  It was four years ago, yet the repercussion and effects of having to live through a strange series of events, that one being only the first of many, many yet to follow, were tremendous.  I know the great changes you’ve been whispering to me, Mu. I’ve been living through them.  Now that you’re asking me to reflect on some which led to hardships I had to undergo is, I think, unsettling.

            “Breath slowly, my friend.  Where are you taking me?

                                                         Wherefore are you taking us?

  I thought you were the one leading me on?

            “I can’t lead you anywhere if I’m already where I’m supposed to be.

                        I AM where you came from,

                        I AM where you are headed.

                                                Your true HOME.”

  Okay.  Sorry about the outburst.

            “One, I cannot forgive what I do not judge.

                                                         I don’t judge you, Pi.

            Your so-called outburst is neither right nor wrong.

            It is an expression.  It’s about time you released your trapped energies.

            It’s a process called healing.  A cleaning of mind, of body, and soul.

            Express what was repressed. 

            Change.  Heal.

            Throw out the garbage.

Release yourself from bondage.

            See yourself in my image … and likeness.

  I like that … “image and likeness.”  What do you look like?

            “‘My image?’  I AM AGE.

                                    I’m the old Man on the Mountain.

                                    I am the new born infant.

                                    Take your pick.”

Here is a good example based on the book you are just now reading. Turn to page 222 in that book, Lemuria.  Now, the last few lines describe the island ruled by Queen Kalifa near the terrestrial paradise, near Garden of Eden. – Lemuria, p.222

Now, jump to those same numbers again, this time going to The Book of Revelations 2:22 by John of Patmos.

‘In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river, was the Tree of Life, which bore 12 fruits, each tree yielding its fruit every month.  The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.  – Revelations, 2:22

– I find that part so significant.  We haven’t even touched on the mystical legends of Kalipay yet. This is as good a place as any to start.  I’ve managed to collect as many of the sightings and dreams guests and caretakers have experienced here in the past.  Most of them, sighted and dreamt by individuals who’ve never met each other, concerning tall, foreign-looking beings wearing white robes, all of them with white and very long flowing hair.  They speak of a human evolution on an individual basis, inviting guests to ascend the mountain.

One of the recurrent patters has to do with a street, strangely enough located right where the river is, which you just quoted John speaks of in Revelations.  Plus, there’s that numbe 12 again, MU, being the 12th letter.  And lastly, Cerve’s descriptions of supposed MU sightings in Northern California in the 1900’s are exactly the same as in Kalipay.  It’s a long way from Palawan to California, isn’t it?

            “We have a long way to go, amigo.  Are you tired?”

  No.  Just help me with the oneness parts.

            “Why don’t you start with what you have for now.

            I’ll help you gather up the missing pieces.”

  Well, the owner of this beach is Carmen.  From San Francisco.  She’s Filipina by blood.  San Francisco is near where MU used to be, according to Cerve.

The guy who took me up the mountain is called Francisco.  What else?  The first painting I did here, without realizing what both words meant, was a sign that said MU Clockworks.  MU I got from the boat and the monkey. 

Clockworks, I later realized, refer to the American Indians who survived the Great San Francisco Earthquake.  They later created the Clockworks Burrows, a labyrinth within the Heart of the Earth to predict the next big one, sometime before or after the millennium.  Lastly, I found late mystics in Ma-I who referred to a future awakening in the Philippines in the 1920’s.  They found a “key” in San Francisco which they gave to a certain mystic named Maximo Guivernas who began a community in Mt. Apo during the 1950’s. 

“The little mystery in your head can be unlocked with the divine feminine in mind.

You have Kali-Pi-Mu and

            Mt. Mu-Pi in Kali-fornia.

In your language, Mu is the 2nd person possessive pronoun.

                            Niya is the 3rd person possessive pronoun.

            Mu meaning “your.”

                        Niya meaning “his” or “her”

            So Kali-Pi-Mu is Kali for you

                 Kali-for-niya is Kali for her.

            The first connotes the journey from Pi to Mu

            The second points at the journey from Mu to Pi.

            It is the cycle of life Inwards and

                                            Outwards the

                                            Heart of the Earth.

            It is right now, right here,

                        The end of the beginning and

                                    The beginning of the end of the cycle.

  There’s that feeling again.  Liker we’re going in circles.

As I understand it, you’re on both ends of the cycle?

            “What do they call Palawan?”

– They call it the “Last Frontier.”

            “The ‘Last Frontier’ is also the “last-front-tier,’ tier meaning ‘level.’ It is the level

where the last and front meets … for now.

You mentioned Alex Garland’s The Beach earlier.”

  Yes.  It’s based in Thailand.  But I read in the Lonely Planet’s South-East Asia on a Shoestring Edition that the actual inspiration for the book’s in Northern Palawan.  A friend of mine also went to the cove where they shot the movie and it’s called Maya.

Garland’s next book is called The Tessaract.  It’s set in the Philipppines.

            “What is a Tessaract?”

  It’s the hypercube unraveled.  It’s the 4th dimension, the level that comes after this one, in our supposed onward evolution. 

I can’t explain it, it’s a bit complicated but I can draw it for you. It looks like this (figure drawn that looks like a cross with a line draw diagonally through the center):

            “So it looks like a cross?”

  I guess.  It’s like this, as far as I can tell.  A line is one dimension (↔).  A cross is two-dimensional (+).  Our consciousness is currently circuited to see life in the 3rd dimension which looks like a cube.  If we look back to the 2nd dimension, everything would look flat, like looking at a photograph.  Most of reality as we know it still follows Newtonian Physics, Euclidean Geometry, and Aristotelian logic, even if the new quantum and relativity physics have theoretically broken down the laws of space-time and the differences between waves and particles. 

During my own personal quest for truth, there were a few moments when I experienced what might have been the Tessaract.  The first time was at the tail end of that long mountain walk with the Mexican.  He fainted once and didn’t want to go on looking for the car we left out in the dark.  We thought we were going in circles and were almost sure we were lost.  He couldn’t walk anymore and I was so cold.  There were no lights, there was snow all around us, and even I could hardly move my legs. 

If we could not find the car, we were goners, it was so freezing with just the light jackets we got from Francisco’s car.

            ‘What happened then?”

  Well, you can imagine how much faith I developed by that 11th hour.  Something happened.  I let go of something, what was it?

“What was it, really?  Take your time. 

You’re in a beach with nothing else but time.”

  I don’t remember.  When I let go of whatever it was, something inside me broke.  Maya fell.  I suddenly stopped seeing things the way they seemed to be.  Like that scene in the Matrix when Neo died.  There were One’s and Zero’s all around him, for me, everything was purely energy.  It was a light that wasn’t exactly bright, it was just glowing everywhere you are looking at and aren’t looking at.  A brilliance, a radiance that permeated everything in front of you, behind you, underneath and above. Even through you. Everything was made up of it, this primal matter.  It felt like a supreme love, like I loved everything and everything loved me. Absolute bliss, even in the midst of possible death. 

I found out that I could move that light within me and without me; not by will, but just by connecting to it.  I sent Francisco that powerful feeling and then he stood up, walked, and strangely enough, a few meters away, the car was there.

            “Now we’re getting somewhere.  Focus on some words you mentioned: Love,

Light, then connect that to what you let go of.”

  Did I die?  Like Neo?

“Do you remember what Jesus said in John 3:14?  Jesus mentioned Moses, the wilderness, and the serpent that had to be lifted up.  This passage was in fact an answer to a question asked by Nicodemus: ‘how can a man be born a second time when he is old?’  Jesus also once said, ‘he who loveth his life shall lose it, but he who hateth his life shall find eternal life’.”

  So I died, in a metaphorical way?

“A part of you did.  In your language, Life is Buhay, Death is Kamatayan.  What is at the heart of these two words?

– Give me a sec. 

UHA is in the middle of the word bUHAy.  Uha is a baby’s first cry, or first breath.

MATA is in the midst of kaMATAyan.  In Filipino language, Mata is the eye, and also to awaken as in from sleep.

So death is the eye?

“‘Eye is a curious word.  It sounds like ‘I.’ In the center of the eye, is the movable part.  It is called the pupil,; like a student, it must be taught how to see properly.  Ancient cultures in almost all the seven continent talk about the pineal gland in the brain which is supposedly atrophied from disuse and misuse as man’s energy descended into density.  Another name for the pineal gland is the ‘third eye.’

Now what is the essence of the ‘eye?’ To explain this further, I need to bring up another geometric figure called the Vesica Piscis (figure drawn of two circles whose edges meet each other’s center).  It can be found in ancient Greece, Egypt, Europe and some other parts of the world.  When two circles meet at both their centers, there is a shared part that looks like an eye.  That shared part is significant in explaining the relationship between two wholes.  That only when they meet at their centers might they ‘see,’ beyond duality. 

What is the essence of the eye?  In a physical sense, it captures light.  You said that’s what you saw.  When something in you died, you began to see reality you’re your third eye.  You saw light.  You said you saw primal matter.  What is primal matter.  It is the heart of everything.  You saw ME.  I am the heart of EVERYTHING.  You saw me … and you.  We are the HEART of EVERYTHING.  When you saw me and you, you saw MU.  Mu is light.  Centered light, light without shadows.  Mu is love.  Love in its truest form.  Reverse Love, you get Evol.  You saw Love, Evolved.  Love, rEVOLving around LOVE.  Notice that the Vesica Piscis is shaped like a leaf.  A leaf’s essence is also to capture light.  A plant is your parent before EVOLution created MEN and WOMEN.  You became the Tree of Life, in the first moments of the world’s creativity. 

For a moment, this particular moment, you must believe, you must be-live, you must be leaves.




– end of Part 1