From Lisa

So, Bro actually found my blogspot and read how I enthused about her most recent Don Q. Here's what she emailed to me about the post...

"I like what you wrote about the show. I really enjoyed dancing Kitri
again. I thought talaga that the Kitri of 2004 was my last Kitri
full-length and it was a great feeling to be able to still dance her after
2 years...

Sabi nga ni Shaz after that show, "Lisa, can you imagine if you retire
Jerome, and then Rudy? Then, you will be dancing with Buknoy!" I don't
think so...(Buknoy is Arnulfo Andrade - a 12 year old scholar!)

Hope we can get together soon!"

Oh, and that's us in the above photo. Lisa is in the middle; to the right is her partner of 16 years, Shaz Barroso, who retired last year. He continues as ballet master and rehearsal master of Ballet Manila.

Valkyries

What is a Valkyrie?

In Nordic mythology, Valkyries are angelic figures in the form of women who lead warriors into their glorious deaths and escort their souls to paradise, Valhalla.

Wagner wrote an entire opera dedicated to Das Valkyries, and a popular piece from this work is entitled "Ride of the Valkyries".

My personal encounter with the word, the myth and the symbolism was in 1997, when I was gifted with Paulo Coelho's novel, The Valkyries. Although it is probably my least favorite among the Brazilian super-author's body of fantastic work (I'm a fan, I'm a fan -- I have all his books, with The Fifth Mountain autographed by him in London), I fell in love with the very name "valkyrie" and what this mythical figure stands for. In fact, I immediately used it as my email address. When I wrote to Paulo by email, the address did not fail to call his attention and he ended his missive to me with "God bless this new Valkyrie!"...

On this post, I've attached one of my favorite Valkyrie artwork, executed by artist Boris Vallejo.

How I wish I looked close to even a fraction of the artwork -- those abs, that hair!!!

For now, I content myself with listening to Wagner. Maybe I should use that music while working out. The sleeping cuts might reveal themselves. I know they're just resting somewhere beneath the extra layer of ice cream and chocolate leftovers...

Onward, soldiers of the metal horses!

Meanwhile, on a more serious note, I share a few lines I've scribbled while I was in London after meeting Paulo Coelho, inspired by my email alter ego:

FLIGHT OF THE VALKYRIES

Morning whispers
from the yawning landscape
of still mountains.
Apollo riding his chariot
across the heavenly plains.

I hear the thunderous roar
of a thousand wings --
Michael leading his army
to battle…
Goddesses leading warriors
to their glorious death.

I hear the thunderous roar
of a thousand wings –
calling from across
the Great River.
I close my eyes
and in the sacred darkness,
the angels sweep me away.


· July 1998

Nahilo yata si Bro!

My apologies to Lisa for the boo-boo on the previous post... Confessions of a first-time blogger!

There, now she's back on her toes!

Ageless and Indestructible

Today I went to the ballet to watch my best friend Lisa in what was whispered to be her "last" full-length Don Quixote. Of course, I did not believe it -- but went to watch anyway because in the last 20 years, LISA MACUJA + DON QUIXOTE = FIREWORKS! This has been an infallible formula eversince she danced her first Kitri with the Kirov Ballet in 1984.

I was not disappointed. She was at her elements. At 41, Macuja still jumped higher, turned faster, and whipped more breathtakingly than dancers half her age. In fact, she was dancing with a company consisting mostly of her own students! It has been a running joke among friends that Lisa has "outlived" practically all her partners and contemporaries. In the last 20 years, there are at least two generations of Filipinos who find that Lisa Macuja means Ballet, just as much a brand name as Colgate is to Toothpaste.

Tonight, the theater was filled to the rafters despite the EDSA Anniversary rally-cum-fiasco happening outside. More than half the audience were students, kids really, elementary and high school pupils who probably do not realize they may never again in their lifetime see any Filipino ballerina as brilliant and prodigious as the one they were watching with unconcealed awe and celebration.

Lisa's Russian mentor, Tatiana Alexandrovna Udalenkova, has told me that the Filipino people owe it to themselves and to their country to watch and support Lisa, because she will not be dancing forever and we may never find a virtuoso like her again in our generation. Her dancing is exceptional, said Madame Udalenkova, but her intelligence makes her even more impressive.

For me, Lisa has been "Bro" for the last 15 years. She taught me how to appreciate Walt Disney movies and drink vodka. She treated me to my first trip abroad -- a shopping spree in Hong Kong after I got hospitalized for work-related stress. I was in her house, having comforted her through bitter tears all day, when the 11 renegade young dancers arrived and pledged their support in forming what is now Ballet Manila. I was bridesmaid at her wedding and godmother to her firstborn.

But everytime I see her don her tutu and pointe shoes, I am reduced to an awestruck fan.

"Ang lupit mo!" I texted her. "Para kang hindi 41... Sana ganyan din ako pagtanda ko..." She responded with equally good humor: "Ang lupit din ng ballet na yun!"

The photograph I posted here was taken 22 years ago, during Lisa's first ever DON Q at the Kirov. Those who have watched her tonight are one in saying that she hardly changed. And if she has, only for the better. Here is a woman who has gone through a true hero's journey. Soon, all these will be chronicled in a book celebrating her sacred work -- for truly, as the balletomane seated next to me commented, when Lisa dances, she seems to be enveloped by Divine Creative Light, the Holy Spirit, if you please, something that elevates her physical skills to spiritual heights. Her mission of bringing ballet to the people is her divine destiny.

"Don't retire", I texted her. "Think Fonteyn. Makarova. Martha Graham!"

"Oh God, they all danced until their 50s!" she responded, adding "God will provide".

When Busy Met Lazy

Hmmm... No one has discovered this little corner of the cyberworld. Why should I be surprised -- even I haven't dropped in for a while! What a shame, three months of inactivity!!! Blame it on Christmas. On New Year. On Valentine's Day. On the 20th anniversary of the EDSA Revolution. On the dollar exchange rate. Or on the 12% VAT. There are 1001 reasons not to write. Trust me. Been doing this for more than half my mortal life, wordsmithing that is. And to this day, it doesn't come automatically. There are no "words on tap".

I actually have been in a deep blue funk since the holidays. Waking up late just because there's no reason to get up early. Five kilos heavier because I couldn't drag myself to the gym. Been lagging behind on the two new book projects I've committed to for this year. Picking a fight with my business associate because I don't feel like "peddling the goods", so to speak. I sit in my antique rocking chair and stare at Pinoy Big Brother celebrity edition with only a half a brain on. (Actually, it's more than enough for any reality show, to be sure.)

Busy met Lazy and they fell madly in love. In my head.

I come from a generation where IQ ruled and there was no such thing as developing "EQ", multiple intelligence, or life skills. Intelligence reigned supreme and woe to the child who did not meet the academic standards of brilliance. Fortunately, I did not have to try to hard. My IQ is 152. I qualified for Mensa. I had been consistently on top of my class. I think therefore I am. I am miserable. The head, fortunately, cannot define sorrow. But neither can it know joy. You can have a million reasons to love or hate someone. But reason cannot make you feel love or hate.

My friend Lucito, who's known me for 23 years, said I was like the Elephant Man. A big, big head, in a fragile body. And what happened to the poor man? He wanted to experience being "normal", so he slept lying down for the first time... and died.

I haven't left the country for more than a year. Quite a shame for someone who professes to be a pilgrim. Something happened as I was about to hit 40. Could it be the aches and pains? The trips to the doctor for mammograms and ultrasounds? The excess baggage around the waist and hips? I re-read my articles and wonder: Where did this girl go? The one who was always defying convention and tempting fate. The one who could never learn to swim or drive but kept on taking classes anyway. The one who would look at a stranger in a foreign land and see the light in that person instead of running away in fear. The one who could never sit still and would sometimes shed copious tears in front of her typewriter (then later a laptop) because of a vivid recollection that she is channeling into the written word.

Alas and alack... Busy met Lazy and they fell madly in love inside my head.

I am 40 years old and realizing that everything I thought I held dearly is slipping through my fingers because I do not care for them anymore. But there is nothing I know to replace them.

I've made many attempt to put pen on paper and just write down the things I enjoy doing... Hobbies, interests, recreation... Favorite food, things to collect, places to visit, stuff to buy... Nada. The paper remains immaculate, as blank as my mind becomes when I try to conjure answers to the above.

All these years... I seem to have forgotten who I am. Memories of my childhood are vague. My life has been measured by accomplishments, not relationships. By success, not by friends. My life is a 9-5 success -- after hours, nobody gives a shit about ratings or advertising loads because they're too busy with their family, their hobbies, their friends, their pasttimes, their little picnics... or even little problems. Things of which I am either spared or denied. Because my mind can keep its own company.

I was ok when I was busy. But just when my life took a calmer turn, my heart started racing. With no track to run, it sat in the garage. Tick. Tick. Tick. Zzzz. Busy met Lazy. That's how the romance began.