Just Another 365 Project

Today, I decided to start my very own 365 project. But since I am neither a photographer or a DJ, this project won't feature still photos or chanson du jour's. Instead, it will be about stuff that I am grateful to Life and the Universe for. And since, I know, there are too many people, things and incidents to be thankful for on a daily basis, please forgive me if I write more than one entry a day. And more importantly, to everyone I owe gratitude who don't make it to the posts, forgive me too. Know that at the exact moment that you showed me kindness and love, I already have thanked you in my heart.

original photo borrowed and tweaked without permission from Jimbography

1/365

23 May 2011

• My ex-dance students from the YMCA International Kindergarten School remembering, and missing, Mister Rye. They remembered my winged silver shoes too!
• "You're looking really good. You look very happy with your life" -- Susie Young
• "Miss you Chix!" -- Rai Lee via Facebook
• T preparing my steamed salmon and mixed greens with avocado and parmesan cheese lunch for tomorrow.

2/365

24 May 2011

• The clouds, the low humidity level and the half-hiding sun that made today's weather perfect for lunchtime picnic at the park.
• MPF
• YMCA International Kindergarten School, Fusion Academy of Performing Arts and Central Dance Studios for the income they gave me when the company that I was supposedly working full time for was going bankrupt and couldn't pay me my wages.

3/365
25 May 2011

• When Life gives you a gift, you say "thank you" and take it; you don't give it back and say "i don't deserve it". After all, we ALWAYS get what we deserve. Always.
• La Chiquitta is Rosebud in Golden Voice Entertainment's Sleeping Beauty.

4/365
26 May 2011

• The morning off that gave me my much-needed additional two hours of sleep.
• The courteous taxi driver that brought me to Bel-Air.
• The ever-so-helpful Teacher Alisa
• Our bright and adorable Bel-Air students

5/365
27 May 2011

• My lunchtime siesta
• The Universe's surprise visitor-- a person I didn't quite get along with in the past but proved to be such a big help today, as I was struggling to get through my day despite the flu.
• The steak dinner that T had planned in lieu of Jacs' birthday barby.

6/365
28 May 2011

• My bright, adorable and talented Musical Theatre kids who did well in their TGYP Exam
• My dance circle girls who are starting to develop a sense of responsibility
• My diligent Jungle Book cast who made tonight's rehearsal far easier than I had anticipated

7/365
29 May 2011

• T's healthy, hearty breakfast
• The opportunity to work closely with Fajee, a friend whose passion and artistry, I admire; and with her very hardworking kids.
• Chaat Masala & Fenugreek-- my new favorite spices.
• The fact that I don't like calling in sick anymore.

On A Clear Day

I didn't get to play on the beach today, like I had intended to, as soon as I stepped out on to my Tung Chung flat balcony, when I woke up this morning. But that didn't stop me from enjoying the calming presence of the sun, the invigoratingly crisp and cool spring air, and the smile-inducing clearness of the day. This doesn't happen 365 times a year. I am grateful that one of the few times it did, is on my day off.

view from my rooftop

Oh! And the birds are chirping too, singing along to Babs...

On a clear day
Rise and look around you
And you'll see who you are
On a clear day
How it will astound you
That the glow of your being
Outshines every star
You'll feel part of
Every mountain, sea and shore,
You can hear from far and near
A world you've never never heard before

And on a clear day
On a clear day
You can see forever and ever and ever and ever more.

Welcome, spring! Thank you for coming. Thank you for coming today.

The Gift

"Juswa, geb et tu Titsur Rye na! Gu ahid," the auntie ordered.

And coyly but cutely, the boy came up to me, handed his present and whispered, "Happy Bellentime's, Teacher Rye."

I smiled and gave my thanks.

Connect The Dots

"Average is just as close to the bottom as it is to the top."

-Jane Archibald

tweeted 12 Jan. 2010, Wednesday

"By perseverance, the snail reached the ark."

-Charles H. Spurgeon

shared by Paul John Pena and tweeted on 14 Jan. 2010, Friday

"He just didn't get a very good seat."

-Phil Whelan

comment posted on 14 Jan. 2010, Friday

Happy Monday, world!

Congratulations, Natalie Portman and

thank you for The Black Swan

Recharge

5-mile walk.

Big waves.

Sergio Mendes & Brasil.

San Miguel.

Sangria.

Sun.

Sea.

Sand.

And a phonecall to Rems.

I don't need it everyday,

just once in a while is enough to make me happy.

Thank you for this day.

Put It In A Box For Me

HK Singers' 2010 Production of "Oliver!"

Whenever someone who had seen the show came up to me and said, "You did a wonderful job. You must be proud of yourself," there was always a split second where my mind debated as to whether to answer it with false modesty, or to take the compliment graciously and be thankful about it. And everytime I found myself in that situation since we moved into the theatre, even before we opened, I always answered--- with pride, conviction, and gratitude--- "I am, indeed, very, very proud."

HK Singers' Oliver has been the most challenging choreographic project I have ever taken on, by far. We had 65 performers in the chorus, 40 of whom were kids; 10 principals, 2 of whom--- Oliver and Dodger--- were kids; 22 musical numbers; and barely three months to stage the entire musical at only three times a week. The biggest challenge of them all: the movement style requirement was NOT my style.

Photo by Tim Bowman

http://www.bowmanphotos.com

But, with Phil Whelan's string and clear artistic vision & direction; Jodi Gilchrist's invaluable guidance; the trust they both bestowed upon me to take the liberty to explore artistically and to make directorial choices; my ever-reliable dance captain, Chow; Jacqueline Gourlay Grant's patience despite the many times my dance rehearsals had to eat up her vocal rehearsal time; and the vote of confidence that the cast showed me throughout the entire process, I delivered what was asked of me. And, modesty aside, I did it brilliantly. I wouldn't have, though, if not for these wonderfully talented and inspiringly daring people. Oh, I need to mention, some of them are sometimes hard-headed as well. That was an even bigger challenge.

The success of Oliver is particularly special to me because beyond the choreography, I jumped on-board the team with a mission in my heart. Over the past nine months that I have been totally immersed with the "Community Theatre" scene in HK, I have grown to dislike the term "community theatre". I have seen so many people use the term as an excuse for mediocrity, and I found that awfully disheartening. I think that while "community theatre" means that we do not have enough money to pay our actors, artistic team, production team, stage crew and orchestra the professional fee that they deserve, it should not mean that "this is all" we are capable of. Lack of training is forgivable. It is easy to remedy. But complacency, especially because this is just "community theatre" anyway, is not.

Photo by Tim Bowman

http://www.bowmanphotos.com

________

Oliver and Mrs. Bedwin looked out of the window, and they saw a lady walking with a basket full of roses. She was selling them for two blooms for a penny. The milkmaid followed, and then the lady that sold ripe strawberries. After a beat, the knife grinder walked on asking out loud who had knives he could sharpen.

Sitting in the dark, I was an outsider looking into their world where the sky was clear, the sun shone brightly, the roses were lush and red, the strawberries were ripe, sweet and juicy, everything was perfect and melodies and harmonies existed-- not worries and troubles. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to float with the soft but poignant music coming from the pit.

"Who will buy this wonderful morning? Such a sky you never did see! Who will tie it up with a ribbon and put it in a box for me? So I can see it at my leisure-- whenever things go wrong, and I would keep it as a treasure-- to last my whole life long," Oliver sang in the background.

A tear fell. It was our closing show, and I wish I knew who could tie it up in a ribbon and put it in a box for me.

Rye Bautista

Choreographer

A Milestone

"It's funny how you hold on for something for so long, and then you wake up one morning and you just don't need it anymore."

--Marshall, Broken Hearts Club

It's funny how I needed it for 18 years-- to soothe my pains, to heighten my joys, to socialize, to rejoice with, to help me digest my meals, to write with, to think with, to drink with, to be alone with, to be part of me in every milestone or every quiet moment of my life--- and then I woke up on the morning of June 19, 2009, and not need it anymore.

It's been a year.

The last.

The first.

Even Now

After all these years, he still brings a certain kind of tears to my eyes. Seth. Seth Table. The angel who gave up his black coat, jumped, fell, and embraced all the pain and hunger that came with the promise of romantic love.

"I'd rather have one breath of her hair,
one kiss of her mouth,
one touch of her hand,
than an eternity without it."

Today, A Phonecall.

"Do you realize, Ryan, that you are already stages ahead of the therapy?
You finished in two weeks, the program that we planned for 10 weeks.
You're done with withdrawal.
Now, it's just a matter of resisting the temptation, because your body doesn't need it anymore.
Keep up the good work, Ryan.
You should be very proud of yourself, because I am very proud of you."

-Nurse Ann
(HK Jockey Club Smoking Cessation Program)
Today, 2:39pm

___________________
Thank you, Nurse Ann. Yes, I am proud of myself and yes, I will definitely keep it up.

Courage, Don't Desert Me

Rye Bautista

is physically exhausted and morally battered, but is keeping his head high. He will NOT lose this battle. He will NEVER lose any battle.

The Rainbow Has Spoken

"What's in it for you?", was the common question that followed whenever I asked a friend to vote for my blog in the Rainbow Blog Of The Week race. Most of the time, my answer would be "Week-long prestige". Sometimes, "Fame. Site traffic. Advertisers. Money. And when I start earning heaps of money, I'll buy you a bag."

To some people, this recognition may seem petty. Silly, even. Maybe even to me when I look back at this years from now. But behind all that silliness and pettiness lie 2 enriching lessons: 1) that whatever you believe in, even if it doesn't make much sense to other people, if you believe in it adamantly, people will be willing to give you support and help when you ask for them; and 2) that the go-getter in me is still alive.

Just about an hour ago, I received the following message on my YM:

Rainbow Blog for week 3 is "Cant You Read?" .
Cast your votes now for Week 4.
The Nominees are: "Am I Brilliant or What?!?" again,
"Ang Misiz ng Blogspot",
"Mandaya Moore-Orlis",
and "Pop Max Now".
For those who have and haven't nominated yet,
nominate your friend's blog or even your own blog.
-(Yffar & Geisha Klein)

Flattering as it may be, this news that I received tonight could never come close to the epiphany that I had this afternoon, in terms of the sense of victory it brings. I wasn't even interested anymore to hear the final tally. I was content in knowing that the experience, no matter how petty or silly as it may appear, has served its purpose in my life. For that, I am thankful to the Universe.

And to everyone that the Universe had chosen to be instruments for Its divine purpose to unfold: to everyone who voted--- friends from all over the world; to everyone I asked to vote but didn't; to everyone who tried but didn't make it to the deadline; to Gil Khan, Marah, Jethro, Josh, Enan, Steve, Miro and Dan who helped me spread the word and gather votes; to Remcyl, who nominated me; to T, who was to me what Kitty Walker was to Senator Maccalister--- a supportive, loving partner and Director of Communications rolled into one; and to each person responsible of the 356 votes, whose names should be here, my sincerest thanks.

Someday, somewhere, I will face a battle that will require me to muster enough determination to fight for something that I believe in so much--- it could be for my own peace of mind or something that will save mankind, I don't know--- and this experience will be the bank from which I will draw that determination. You, each one of you, will be as much a part of that as you have been in this poll.

Love y'all!

How Are You Gonna Get Up?

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling,
but in rising every time we fall."

-Confucius

Rainy Days & Mondays

I love the rain. It gives me a certain kind of energy that propels me dream. To create. To imagine. To read poetry and feel it with all my five senses. To listen to music and be moved. To dance and meditate through it.

Mondays, however are not always looked forward to. Monday mornings are the most difficult time of the week. It's when I have to forcefully detach myself from the carefree, debauched weekend that passed. It's the time of the week--- the only time of the week--- when I question the Universe why I can't be filthy rich so that I won't have to work.

But as from every rule there is an exception, let today, March 9, Monday, be the exception from my Monday loathing.

If every now and then, my Mondays could offer little pleasures like,

• an unexpected call from the immigration telling me that my working visa sponsorship has been transferred and extended till June of next year,
• realizing that I have more money than I thought and because of that I manage to give myself a little midday treat,
• meeting someone in the lift, a Caucasian ballroom dancer, who says that she could tell I'm a sensitive dancer by the way I stand,
• T treating me to a sumptuous Italian dinner to celebrate my visa extension,
• showing up in the studio and realizing that my class is full and my students tell me that they got excited when they were told I was taking over another instructor's class,
• coming home and discovering an unexpected paycheck delivered by post, and dinner waiting for me (prepared by my best friend, Dan),
• receiving an instant message while podcasting telling us that our podcast is the Blog Of The Week, and that my blog is nominated for next week,
• being rained on a bit as I walk the busy streets of CWB, just before I run Jethro's choreography,

the way it did today, then Monday would be my favorite day of the week.

One Last Lecture

If you were to give one last lecture, what would it be about?


Randy Pausch, professor of computer science and human-computer interaction and design at Carnegie Mellon University, gave his 10 months before he passed away in July of 2008.

On Sept. 19, 2006, Randy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Almost a year later, after undergoing an unsuccessful Whipple procedure, he was told he only had three to six months of good health.

On September 18, 2007, Randy gave his last lecture at CMU, "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams", the condensed version of which, he delivered on Oprah in October of 2007. Below is the video of that condensed version on Oprah. To watch the 1 hour, 16 minute-original lecture, click here.

Mr. Pausch passed away on July 25, 2008. He is survived by his wife and three kids, the people for whom his lecture was originally written.

There's Something About Mary

The dancing.

The spirit.

The person.

A wise man once said, "When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live in such a manner than when you die, the world cries and you rejoice!"

And she did just that.



*video posts lifted from Ida Beltran-Lucila's Multiply page. Thanks for sharing, ate Gen!

Inspiration For The Day

*Thanks for sharing, T!

Is It Ever Timely?

Life is fragile. That's what our teacher, Enrico Labayen, reminded me when he learned the news that Mary had passed away.

Mary was a stunning dancer. Young, passionate, talented, dynamic, ambitious, and full of life. According to her closest friends, she too was very positive, compassionate, humble and generous. Her passing away shocked the Philippine dance world because she was a gem: a dance icon in the making. She died at the very premature age of 20. Very untimely.

But is it ever timely?

If my time is now and I die in my sleep tonight, will my spirit be able to smile and say, "I have lived every single moment of my life without wasting a second to regret and bitterness"?

Will I be thankful for all the pain that came my way that made every joy sweeter?

Will I go satisfied that I have seen enough sunsets and enough daybreaks?

Will I rejoice knowing that I have loved with all my might? And shared everything I could?

Will I be content knowing that I have lived my life climbing the highest of its peaks and down to the depths of its mysteries, through the darkest of its nights, and the brightest of its mornings? Through alleys, roads and rivers?

Will I find pride knowing that I selflessly gave what I could?

Will I be able to say, "I lived"?

When is it ever timely?

And when my time comes, how will I say my final goodbye?

"Sometimes we encounter things in our path, but because our time has not yet come, they brush past us, without touching us, even though they were close enough for us to touch them." --Paulo Coelho

Thank you, Mary. For making this world just a bit better, brighter and enjoyable for some of us. Thank you for inspiring us. And thank you for this moment of reflection. Bouree your way up to heaven, and dance with the angels. The Creator is waiting for your first curtsy in His court.

Pas De Bourree It Forward

For those that the Muse Of Dance chose to mentor me--
Sofia Zobel-Elizalde
Enrico Labayen
Denisa Reyes
...and the men and women that
unconditionally shared their
skills, time and wisdom.

I am not the kind of dancer that my colleagues would call a virtuoso. Neither am I the kind that choreographers would beg on their knees to dance for them. Nor the kind that teachers would kill for, to own pedagogy.

I am just a single unit in the multitude. There will be no tributes staged for me in this lifetime or in the lifetimes that will follow. My life will not be recorded by historians, or studied by scholars. There won't be a school of dance named after me. I am not among the great movers of this artform. Bautista is far from Vaganova, or Forsythe, or Graham, or Cechetti, Nureyev. It doesn't belong to the lines of Labayen, or Reyes, or Jumalon, or Fabella, or Nierras, or Beltran, or Morales.

In the dance atlas, I am insignificant. Invisible, even. But the way by which dance rules my life is neither insignificant nor invisible. It feeds me. It nourishes me. And it keeps me alive. And I wouldn't be enjoying my dancer's life now if not for my mentors who never got tired of sharing--- my mentors who gave and gave and made sure I was learning as much as I can, without even asking for anything in return. Not a single centavo to pay for my tuition fee.

To them, I will forever be grateful. It is my turn to share. My turn to pay it forward.

The Likha Babies prepared
a pre-workshop feast that
we shared on Chater Road in Central

One more picture before digging in.

Good food. Good conversation. Good company.
And it only got better after this sumptuous lunch.

Day 1 Output


Day 2 Output

Call Me Mushy

...I'm not shy to admit I cried a little bit. Just a little. And I'm not even a basketball fan--- faaaaaaaaar from being one.

About A Boy Crossing The Border

For the first time in his current journey, the road seemed bleak and uncertain.

For the first time, he felt his arrogance -- the arrogance that he always depended on to conceal his weak, vulnerable, human self -- abandon him as the rest of his defenses melt away and disappear in a heartbeat.

For the first time in his current journey, he wasn't too proud to admit what he was feeling. He wasn't scared or ashamed to say, "Please forgive me. Give me one more chance. And the only reason that I need that one more chance is that I love you."

The boy was, for the first time in so long, at that point where something ends and something bigger begins. He knew what lay ahead beyond that point. And with much hope and faith, he decided to do what felt right for him. What felt good for him.

It was past midnight. Just a few minutes before that, he was on a cab racing against time, crossing the tunnel that connected Lantau and Hong Kong Islands. Then without him noticing, in just a few minutes, half the world transitioned from Jan. 22 to Jan. 23 --- from Thursday to Friday. At about the same time, he crossed another border: that where fascination ends and love begins.

It was the beginning of a new journey.