HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes
Sunday, June 24, 2007

In the course of my travels and the shows I have done, I have met many people and some have really stood out. I am not talking about famous people. I am referring to fellow Pinoys, ordinary people with whom I have had unique interactions. Here’s one. It happened more than 10 years ago. I was doing a lot of TV work then, specifically a noontime show called Sanglinggonaposila. After every show, fans would usually be waiting outside the dressing rooms for the performers to come out so they could pose for pictures and get autographs. I would usually mingle with the fans to get it out of the way before I even washed off my makeup, changed my shirt and fixed my stuff. Then I would have lunch at 2 p.m.

One afternoon, after I had done all that and was about to go out for lunch, my assistant called my attention to a young woman waiting outside who had asked to talk to me. I could sense that it was not good news for me, since I knew from experience that from time to time, there are people who go to celebrities with their sob stories seeking financial help. It had happened to me a few times and it was not pleasant having to deal with strangers, especially those in need of help but whose stories you couldn’t even verify. And it’s painful to turn anyone away.

Against my better judgment, I let her into the dressing room. A few awkward quiet moments after she entered, she began telling me her story. Between sobs, she claimed she was a nursing student who needed money to be able to take her final exams. She was without resources and had no one to turn to. I listened, feeling some annoyance that she had come to me instead of, say, a public official, or some other celebrity in the studio. When I told her so, she said that she had spent the entire afternoon the day before waiting for a certain public official at his office in City Hall, but he never showed up. And the first celebrity she went to asked for something indecent in exchange. And so, she said, she decided to take a chance on me.

For some reason, I began listening to her story with more interest. I asked her the usual questions — where she was studying, what year she was in school — and after dialing a number which she said was the office of the registrar in her school to verify the amount she said she needed, I took out my checkbook and issued her a check.

It was something new for me to be as rash as this. Like most people, I have always been wary of strangers who come up to me asking for money. “A fool and his money are easily parted,” the Chinese saying goes, and I had always made sure I was never going to be anyone’s fool, certainly not because of some unverified sob story meant to squeeze a few thousand pesos from me.

When I got home, I told my wife what I had done and she looked at me with incredulity. How could I be so stupid? She was so sure I had been the victim of a scam. Immediately, I began to have doubts about the wisdom of the compassion I felt. Was I duped by a sob story? I felt like a fool.

That night, as I mulled over the incident before sleeping, I reminded myself that if it was just about losing money, I should not worry so much since I had thrown away bigger amounts on more useless things. I knew that when I gave the girl the check, I was coming from a good place in my heart. If the young woman’s story turned out to be false, then it wasn’t my problem. It was hers. I fell asleep soon after.

Around three or four days later, I saw the same young woman with her mother, all smiles and beaming as I entered the studio. Even before I could settle inside
the dressing room, her mother, who was dressed very simply in probinsiyana clothes, approached me and thanked me profusely for “saving” her daughter. She narrated how just a few days earlier, it had seemed that their only recourse for tuition money was to compromise her daughter’s virtue, until her daughter mustered the courage to talk to me. She expressed her gratitude by giving me a whole kaing of fresh mangoes which, she said, they had brought all the way from Batangas where their family resided.

I was happy that my hunch was correct and that my random act of compassion had not been for naught.

Fast-forward to some four years later. The APO, together with some other entertainers, were in Tokyo to do a number of shows. On our first night, our Japanese host invited us to a club for some karaoke and entertainment. As I entered the club, I noticed that almost all the waiters and guest relations officers (or japayukis as they are derisively called) were our kababayans who greeted us with excited voices.

From out of the blue, a young girl approached me and said, “Sir Jim, do you remember me?” I stared at her for some time but I could not place her. “I was the nurse whom you sent to school,” she said. I was shocked to see her working in the club. After I found my seat, she asked to sit beside me and proceeded to call her friends. She told them proudly that I was the one who helped her finish her nursing course.

I asked her what had happened to her nursing career. She narrated how she had lost her job as a clinic nurse in a government office that was revamped when President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo came into power. Her boss, an Erap appointee, was dismissed along with his entire staff. In the meantime, she was working in Tokyo for a few months while awaiting approval of her petition to work in the US.

In a circuitous way, I asked her what her job entailed since I had a negative impression of what japayukis were involved in. To my surprise, and this was verified by almost every long-time Pinoy resident I met in Tokyo, she explained that she sat with Japanese customers, conversed and sang Karaoke with them. That’s all. Her job did not entail going out with the men, and no, she was not a prostitute. I felt embarrassed.

She then asked me what my schedule was for the next day. She said she was free in the morning and she could help me shop for gifts since she knew where the bargains were in that über-expensive city.

The next day, we met at a big department store and I chose some pasalubong for Lydia and my three kids. She was carrying all the stuff while I looked for some gadgets I could get for myself. Soon after, I noticed that she had disappeared. I found her at the counter paying for my purchases. I ran to her and insisted that I pay for them, since they were my gifts. She raised her hand and motioned me to stop, saying that it was now her turn to do me a favor, and while the amount may not come close to what I did for her years ago, she was now in a position to return the favor with gratitude.

I was touched — and stunned speechless. I could not muster any words and I noticed a lump growing in my throat. I opted for silence, knowing that there are some tender moments that are best left alone.

In life, we are both givers and takers, and I believe that every act of kindness we do somehow takes root and blossoms into more compassion, more kindness, more hope for mankind.

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes
Sunday, June 17, 2007

I thought I’d write about practical things this week — lessons that everyone can learn and apply in everyday situations. I surveyed relatives and friends and asked them for some nuggets of practical wisdom I could share with my readers. I told them that it had to be the kind of wisdom that came from direct experience, which only life itself and years we’ve spent living it can give. Here are a few I learned on my own and some I solicited from friends.

1. Live below your means.

This has been my mantra ever since I started earning money, and even when I was in school. I have made it a habit to be frugal and always save for a rainy day. I actually live simply, although my wife will disagree since I buy a lot of cameras and electronic stuff. But the truth is, every gadget I have bought has paid for itself and more.

I’ve had this habit of setting aside as much as 60 to 70 percent of whatever I earn for savings and for future planning. It is a practice that has served me well and it is something I pass on to newcomers in showbiz. It is pathetic seeing upstarts buying expensive cell phones, Rolex watches and big Expedition pickups only to watch them part with the stuff later when their careers plateau.

2. Apply different standards when talking to men and women about love.

Truly, women are from Venus and men are from Mars, especially when it comes to love. For example, the memories of men and women operate differently when talking about their past loves. I am not just talking about men forgetting anniversaries and women never forgetting their partners’ indiscretions. Their memories just work differently.

As an example, and as a rule, men like to inflate the number of women they have had to bragging levels, while women like to downplay the number of boyfriends they have had, perhaps to appear more innocent and chaste!

3. “If you want to eat steak, don’t buy the whole cow.”

This was my driver’s comment when we were talking about how some married men end up having not just girlfriends but second and even third families.

This is good advice as well, which is helpful to those who think that they really want something — say, buying a vacation house — when all they really want is to go to the beach occasionally.

I’ve always wanted to own a yacht but, thank God, I have never had the kind of money to actually purchase one. And I probably will never buy one, ever since I came across a joke popular among boat owners that their two happiest days were the day they acquired their boat, and the day they sold it!

It saves a lot of money and trouble if one can be clear about what one really likes.

4. Tread carefully when talking about religion or politics.

A musician friend stresses the fact that these two domains have claimed more lives in human history than anything else. Religion and politics are so potent, they can arouse passions so strong — both constructive and destructive — that can consume their followers with the zeal to convert, or more likely, to conquer in the name of God or country. And the need to “win” or be proven “correct” is as attractive as the ring’s compelling allure in the epic Lord of the Rings. If you don’t believe me, just ask Gollum.

It would take a wise person to avoid being sucked into such an argument, or to be able to wriggle out of one with dignity and humor intact.

5. Be nice to the people you meet on your way up. They’re the same ones you will meet on the way down.

The nature of showbiz and life itself is volatile and uncertain. However high or low your peaks and valleys, or how wild the ride can get, the people you work with, like makeup artists, musicians, production people, fans and the other “little people” in the studios, will be the constant witnesses who tell others how you have treated them. They will be there when it’s your time to leave and they will either give you a round of applause or wish you good riddance.

6. Be nice to anyone who serves you food or has to poke a needle into you.

With some incredulity and shock, I have heard firsthand from some waiters how they spit on food or put dirty stuff on plates when they have to serve grouchy, catty or unkind customers. I imagine there could be some nurses and medical assistants who take secret pleasure in making things uncomfortable for people who do not treat them with the respect they deserve.

All in all, it pays to be polite and patient with people even if their service may be unsatisfactory. And if you feel the compulsion to complain or give restaurant staff a piece of your mind, it is best to do so only after you have eaten the food.

7. Never say never.

Many times, I have been bewildered at how circumstances and situations can change so much that I find myself doing something I have sworn never to do again. Sometimes, we feel that we have written something off with finality, and then life brings us back to it. Only this time, we have no choice but to engage it again. Haven’t we written off certain people or made final decisions on something, only to find ourselves facing them again and again?

8. Truth is stranger than fiction because fiction, at least, tries to be logical.

I am paraphrasing Tom Clancy. Life can indeed be unpredictably illogical, irrational and can produce totally unexpected outcomes. A guy buys a lotto ticket for the first time and wins P100 million! A housewife beats a seasoned and powerfully entrenched politician and becomes president. Or how about a country experiencing “people power” for the second time?

9. Murderers and rapists are more trustworthy than thieves.

My grandfather was Director of Prisons in Muntinlupa when my older siblings were growing up. And an uncle was Assistant Director of Prisons when I was growing up. They knew and understood human nature. One of the things I remember as a child was the household help the family kept. In my uncle’s quarters were “living out” prisoners, reformed murderers and rapists who had served part of their sentences and were out on good behavior. My grandfather had this theory that people who murder or rape, or commit a crime of passion, are easier to rehabilitate and trust than people who plot and premeditate to steal and plunder.

My grandfather’s youngest daughter (my aunt), as a beautiful teenager, was chaperoned by this small funny man we called Patok, whom I discovered later had been an inmate in Muntinlupa for rape. In my grandfather’s eyes, thieves and robbers were generally incorrigible. He just could not trust them, period. His judgment seemed correct because the reformed inmates who were his household help kept his home neat and tidy, and served him and his family loyally and well.

10. We cannot change other people. We can only change ourselves.

Pity those who marry with the mission to straighten out and convert their spouses, for they will fail. And I’m not just talking about marriage. Gerald Jampolski, the spiritual writer and psychologist, says: “Peace of mind comes from not wanting to change others.”

On a visit in Manila a while back, he talked about the many years of stress he spent trying to change his mother, until he got tired and gave up and just learned to accept her totally for what she was. It was only then that he saw his mother change from a cantankerous, unreasonable and angry woman to become a more pleasant, easygoing and loving person. He says that it happened because he was the one who changed!

HUMMING IN MY UNIVERSE By Jim Paredes
Sunday, June 10, 2007

I have a confession to make. As of today, I have something in common with the Viva Hot Babes and about half of the sex sirens in show biz.

I am now wearing implants! Yes, two of them — wonderful round ones, except that they are not on my chest area but on my big brown eyes.

After much hemming and hawing, I finally had my premature cataracts removed by the very gentle and skilled Dr. Benjie Cabrera of the American Eye Center and replaced with artificial ones. The lenses I was born with developed early cataracts and instead of opting to wait till they get ripe before having them removed, according to the old protocol, I opted to have them done now. Why wait till I get old and spend years with bad vision?

Thanks to technology, new things are now possible and the procedure is quite simple and painless. I had one eye done one day and another one on the next day, and I feel like a different person looking at a new world. It’s as if I took off a pair of sunglasses that had made my world progressively darker the past few years. It will take a few days for my vision to stabilize but I am sure it will be an improvement from how I saw everything prior to the operation.

Since yesterday, I’ve been thinking about this procedure of having something I was born with like my optical lenses taken out and replaced with an alien substitute. It used to be the stuff of science fiction — of creating part human-part machine creatures. I have been “upgraded.” Do these implants now qualify me as a cyborg, or part-man, part-technological wonder? Have I turned bionic?

More and more, as technology replaces parts of our bodies and functions — our eyes, our hearing, heart, breasts, kidney, etc. — and alters us with implanted machines and stem cell flesh and blood products, we will be forced to redefine who we really are in the modern world. But before we think that people are pondering this for the first time in human history, think again. Zen philosophers have considered this question for centuries.

“What was your original face before your parents gave birth to you?” an old Zen koan asks.

If you shaved your head, used whitening lotion till you lost your kayumanggi complexion, gained/lost weight, had plastic surgery, or whatever else could be done to alter your appearance, would you still be you? Okay, that’s fairly easy to answer since all of the above are mere cosmetic improvements.

But what if you had a face transplant which, incidentally, is now possible? Or an identity change like what people in witness protection programs go through?

And what if what changed was even deeper? Let’s say you were once a shy person with low self-esteem and, over the years, you did your homework in coming to terms with yourself and did what was necessary to build up your self-esteem and you have now become a confident person. Can you say you are still the same person as before?

Or what if it was the other way around? What if you used to be a loving, happy person, but because of something that befell you, some trauma, for example, you have become a withdrawn, bitter and lonely character? Can you say you have changed?

Who are you, anyway? Are you what you look like? Are you what you own or have acquired? Are you your status? Your wealth? Your reputation or educational attainment? Are you the name that you carry, however nondescript, vile or prestigious it may be? Are you, as people seem to think, your personality? Who is it that possesses the possessive word “your” in the previous sentence?

For many or us, it is our life’s work, or our family, or our beliefs that define us. On many levels and in the gross, functional world we live in, perhaps it may be so. But on a deeper but more perennial level, in the reality where the eternals are the only things that ultimately count, none of the above may be a valid definition of who we are.

We cannot be any of the above — our reputation, wealth, name, achievements, life’s works. Why? Because none of them will last forever. They will, as we all know but tend to forget, eventually fade away.

Everything that is ever born must die. This was one of Shakyamuni Buddha’s big realizations. Even as much as we like to remember the dead who were close to us, we cannot even claim that their loving personalities were who they really were since those characteristics went with them when they died. While they live in our memories, our memories will eventually fade to oblivion as well.

And so we ask the question, “What is real?” The Zen answer is it is that which has no beginning and will have no ending. It is that which was never born and never will die. This is the reality of Spirit, the one that was there as God’s artisan before the universe was born. It is that which bares witness as we live our temporary lives with all their fleeting drama and history.

Granted that everything will eventually die, does that mean we are not real? We are not what we think we are. What we really are is what is real. To know ourselves is to go deep into the very source of seeing the countenance of our original face. And what was our original face before the world shaped our identities, our personalities, status in life, etc.?

Before you dismiss all this as a futile exercise in sophistry, or you may even concede the trueness of it but feel that it really has no practical application in our modern existence, think again.

Delving into what is real and what is not can give us a healthy perspective when dealing with losses and gains, happiness and disappointments, and all the other exigencies that govern our transitory existence. But it will only be of help to us if we constantly open ourselves to the grandeur and majesty of the answers we get when we ask the Zen question above.

We may even discover that from the point of view of the only thing that is real, nothing is ever lost and nothing is really ever gained. In the truest sense, however, and however life treats us, literally, nothing in this world can ever blemish, alter, improve, or diminish the timeless beauty that is our original face.

It is perfect as it is. No implants or upgrades needed ever!

* * *

Come join the 32nd run of my cutting-edge workshop called “Tapping the Creative Universe.” Like hundreds who have taken this effective workshop, you will discover aspects of yourself that will surprise, delight and inspire you to achieve the greatness you were meant to in your life.

Sessions are on June 18 to 21, 23, and 25, 7 to 9 p.m. at 31 M. Jocson St., Loyola Heights, Quezon City. Tuition is P5,000. Call 426-5375 or write to emailjimp@gmail.com for further inquiries or a full syllabus.

Humming In My Universe
Philippine Star
June 3, 2007

One of the great comforts of modern living is also its greatest bane. I am talking about the blessing and the curse of living where everything is available and already processed for us. From food to music to knowledge, things are served to us already tested, pasteurized, homogenized, pre-chewed, preserved, pre-approved, certified, and properly hyped and ‘spun’ so that we have very little leeway to experience anything outside the manufacturers’ intent.

I am amazed to realize that I am probably eating immensely better, dressing far more comfortably, or even living more sensibly, health-wise, than say, Queen Victoria, Napoleon Bonaparte or Julius Caesar who were the most powerful movers and shakers centuries ago. I am baffled at the thought of how people of other times coped without Tylenol, toilet paper, antibiotics, cars, or even Nikes. World leaders may have ruled over empires and the lives and fates of nations, peoples and civilizations, but their experience of what comfort and convenience were do not come close to what we have now.

And while it is easy to see the good in all these conveniences, the entire setup has made us more prone to alienation and ennui than any other civilization before us. Modern living, though invented to make our lives more productive and meaningful, can make us feel lost in has actually created a world of shallow consumerism where everything we do or own seems to stare meaninglessly at us in the face and makes us more angst-ridden than ever.

Not too long ago, when I was a child, our kusinera bought all our food fresh from the market. The meat sold was prepared by the butcher himself, the chickens were ‘native’ and probably raised by the seller herself, and the veggies did not have insecticide.

The music we listened to and liked did not need a video to be attractive and wonderful. The singers and artists had to know how to do their stuff really well and impress their audience with very little help from TV, promo people and big corporate sponsored backing to ‘sell’ their songs.

Going further back a few centuries when man needed to hunt for food, it was even simpler. There were the hunter and the prey. The activity involved killing animals to feed oneself and the family. Since there was no refrigeration, man only killed what was needed. There was no hoarding. Life was basic: Kill or die.

In spite of the seeming savagery, there was a beauty to it that is lost in the modern acquisition of food. The hunter respected the hunted because he had much to learn from it. There was a ‘participation mystique’ they shared which led to mutual respect. The respect led to rituals that paid homage to the animal after it was killed. In the end, it was like the animal had ‘sacrificed’ itself so that the hunter could live.

The ritual was important for the hunter since it wiped away his savagery and guilt. And underlying all the sacredness of the activity was the beautiful ecological message of the cycle of life which, put in simple terms, meant that the killed animal would come back to nourish him again since it was treated with respect and not killed wantonly.

In the old days, the food one gathered nourished not just the body but the spirit itself. The sacredness of food could not be missed.

When I was a young boy in the ‘50s and early ‘60s, every time we dared not to finish our food, our mother always reminded me and my siblings about the starving people in China and elsewhere. To this day, I almost always leave my plate clean after every meal. It was perhaps the way I saw food prepared then and the threatened scarcity of it that has made me treat food this way.

As moderns, what can we do to get the magic back? How can we achieve some kind of participation mystique with what we eat, listen to, and every other activity we do? The answer could be the key to bringing enchantment to our everyday life.

Let’s start of by asking simple questions like where the food on the table came from. Beyond a certain point, I am sure that we will not get accurate answers. This is where imagination can come in. For example, we can ponder on who sold the fish to us. What kind of person is he? Does he have a family? Where did he get it? The questions, answered by our imagination can open us up to a sense of wonder at the interconnectedness of things and how a particular object has found its way to us.

In my case, I add a dash of faith which raises the level of curiosity. I consider the possibility of how things that come to us were ‘meant to be’ with us at a particular time. When I do, curiosity leads me to the ‘discovery’ of some sort of ‘sacred conspiracy’ that has brought all these little, mundane stuff of life together in one place.

All of a sudden, I am not ‘just eating any fish’ but am being nourished by a special one that has been sent to me. And every thing around me, both seen and unseen, begins to acquire its own special-ness that was not originally there. All things become special objects, everyone is a sacred messenger and every experience is there for my evolutionary ascent to greater consciousness.