Open Again for Business

Been Away
For those who have expectations of reading a weekly post from me, I apologize for not delivering. Several events have come into play the past two weeks, some of which follow:

*my daughter got sick, I think with H1N1;
*my sister's house in the Philippines suffered from the flood; her husband almost didn't make it;
*I had a lingering cough/cold/sinus infection that just refused to go away;
*I organized a relief program here in Illinois in coordination with a Rotary club in the Philippines, where my father is president;
*we have a new puppy, 10 weeks old today
photo courtesy of Bunny Fabella

Of course, I could just say that life intervened. But that's a sorry excuse, one I'm embarrassed to admit that I've used too often to justify not working on my writing projects.

Body
One thing I could say is that people have told me I've lost weight. I haven't confirmed it by using my bathroom scale; allow me to savor this delusion for a bit. I've kept up my zumba classes (except when I was sick). Every Tuesday night I swear I'd never make it to the cooling down exercises (which still leave me panting.) Thank God for Gatorade.

I walk my very energetic puppy at least twice a day. I've come to appreciate the beauty and serenity of early morning walks, when it's still dark and nobody's about. (Well except for that one time when Isis and I passed a car with its motor idling under a street lamp. When the driver saw us, he drove just a few feet forward, under the next street lamp. Just happened to park at a private subdivision at 6:30 am?) We walk at a brisk pace, to keep my puppy focused, and I like feeling that I'm already into my day while the others are still sleeping.

I'm still belly-dancing. In fact, I'm participating in a short dance in a student recital in two weeks. Does "Rock the Casbah" sound like anything I'd be doing? Those of you who know me well know I don't even know what the Casbah is. They're probably saying it's a midlife crisis. I'll tell you what the crisis was: what to wear. Since I'm very shy about exposing my midriff (which is ironic for belly dancing), I ordered a body suit from Australia with the most coverage, snipped the bottom off an old shimmery blouse, and fashioned a long tie that hangs all the way past my belly button. It will do for a five minute dance. I'll be the most inexperienced there, having taken lessons for less than 2 months while the others have been doing it for over a year. My 14year old daughter refuses to go (Good. She'll dogsit.) My husband makes funny noises and averts his eyes when I practice--you'd think a husband would be more eager, curious, at least, but he winced when my coin hip scarf arrived in the mail. So why am I doing this? Why do we do anything?

Mind
I've been making progress on my novel. I try and write several hours a day, when the puppy is resting. I've taken to writing at the kitchen table--quite a change for me since I usually write in isolation so I can more fully imagine this world I'm creating. Since the story is set in the Philippines, it's not a difficult transition, except now I'm working on a chapter that takes place in Quiapo and Binondo, where I've never been. I guess I've been there a few times, but I have nothing close to the intimate knowledge required for the chapter. I've resorted to eating Filipino food to get me in the mood, which actually works. Eating is such a sensory experience that I think it fuels my imagination. Now if only it were hot and humid here, instead of dry and 67 degrees fahrenheit. And if only I were surrounded by a crowd of Filipinos instead of my Wisconsin husband, my high schooler (a world of its own; need I say more?), and an Australian shepherd. Funny how somebody in my writing class who read my manuscript called my novel magical realism, when in fact, this world does exist, on the other side of the globe. And the narrative is based on actual events, although I've made the characters more eccentric. The theme is ambitious: How does religion survive in a secular society? This is something I grapple with everyday, coming from a devout Catholic family. My mother would probably answer, "We survive because of religion." My mother is a very insightful woman. She's 82 years old and still active with volunteer work. I owe so much to her. Damn, now I'm missing her.

Questions
I haven't received any feedback regarding our camino arrangements. I'm sure the typhoons set things back a bit, but I'm ready to start asking my friend again. After all, I've been telling my friends about this walk and now I'm setting expectations. I have a habit of doing this.

Answers
None at the moment. Just something I heard watching a Mad Men rerun last night: Chinese saying goes, "The faintest ink is better than the strongest memory." Not a mind-blowing insight, but a useful tip for a writer. Especially one who gets the names of her daughter and dog mixed up sometimes.

Peace,
Almira

Unloading

Body
Took a short break to spend a long weekend with childhood friends in the Washington DC area. Of course, that reunion completely sabotaged my diet: spicy catfish, salmon, crabcakes, native Filipino sausage, all eaten with copious amounts of rice. Exotic ice cream--2 huge scoops.

I did try and work it off by walking from museum to museum, standing around for hours taking pictures, saying a few prayers. I fear, however, that the calculus of calories and exercise tilts heavily toward added poundage.

Photo taken by Bunny Fabella

Mind
As I gazed with awe at the beauty of the National Shrine (Basilica of Immaculate Conception in Washington DC), I couldn't help but wonder about the busloads of pilgrims gathered there. Now, they probably would get some special dispensation too for making the trip, but how would that equal to the arduous journey I'll be making this time next year? As a friend laughingly told me, she crossed the threshold in Rome when the curtains parted, thus earning her deliverance from purgatory. All she did was take a few steps; I would have to hike 60 miles. Where is the divine justice in that?

What other burdens would I have to carry from now until the time I take those first steps in Spain? How are we judged--by discrete actions, or in the course of a lifetime? Does one act of faith cancel an offense, and vice versa? When do we actually attain salvation?

And to make things more complicated, here is my weekly quote from Marcel Proust:
"We become moral when we are unhappy."

How's that for food for thought?

Peace,
Almira

Shortcuts (Already!)

Pilgrimage road in Roncesvalles from www.santiago-compostela.net


Body
Took my second belly dancing class this week.

You might be wondering what belly dancing has to do with preparing for the Camino. Well, I could say I want to tone my core muscles because this will help my walking posture. Or I could say I'd like to connect with my inner exotic (but wait, I'm outwardly foreign.) Or I could say the dance requires a mind-body awareness not unlike yoga that will help me focus. But the real reason is, I won a certificate for free lessons at a dance studio, and I like the way the bells and coins on the hip shawl sound when I shimmy.

I called my son in Ann Arbor to ask him a question, and I told him I was waiting for my belly dance instructor. He said, "Stop right there, Mom." My daughter has implored me not to demonstrate moves in front of her friends.

So maybe this class will build my character, help me deal with rejection, teach me about intestinal fortitude (in more ways than one.)

I've also started taking zumba classes, a combination of dance and aerobics. All I can say about this is: maybe I'll stick with swimming. The instructor is so beautiful and toned that I feel light years away from where she is.

So, the general plan for preparing for the Camino is to lose weight to help my poor feet, build up aerobic fitness, strengthen leg and core muscles. I intend to gradually increase my walks/hikes (my limit now is only 3 miles walked in one hour), and by the start of summer next year I'll start carrying a backpack. I'm a little concerned about the long winter in Chicago--where would I hike?--but well, I just have to be resourceful.


Mind
I've stumbled upon a (temporary) solution to my avoiding-yet-needing Proust issue. Quotations! Yes, a summary of salient thoughts, a condensation of circumspection, literature for the lazy. I'll probably be doing his noble body of work a huge disservice by using one-liners, but let the Proust scholars cringe. This is Proust for the every man/woman. So, quote for the week:

"We must never be afraid to go too far, for truth lies beyond." Marcel Proust

My friend Bunny, our chief Camino planner, has announced a month-long schedule. Yikes! I'm trying to cut my participation down to 2 weeks. School starts about that time, and I shudder at the thought of my husband, Blaine, taking charge of driving my son back to Ann Arbor (who'll pack the goodies?) and my daughter missing her HS bus every morning. But wait, what was it Proust said about not being afraid to go too far for truth?

Walking in the Galician countryside and eating fresh seafood sounds glorious, though. Not to mention salvation from eternal damnation at the end. (Bunny mentioned that 2010 is a jubilee year--see first post.)

About that redemption and revelation thing that I also mentioned in the first post: would I be content with just one? If yes, which would it be?

In theology, redemption is deliverance from sin; salvation. In the secular world, the term means atonement for guilt, deliverance, rescue. I suppose for one to be redeemed, there has to be a pre-existing transgression. But who is not without such a mark on their soul? Who is not in need of even a little redemption?

As for truth, isn't the lack of truth a distortion of reality? Do we not hurt ourselves and others when we deny what is?

But sometimes we cower from both. We are afraid because the acquisition of truth or redemption holds us to a higher standard of ethics. Expectations are thrust upon us.

All I can say at this point is, I am far from redemption, and truth is hazy. I cannot yet walk the Camino. But it is there for me to reach, and it tests me even now.

Peace,
Almira

First Marker: Where I Stand

Another Pre-amble
I do know how to spell preamble, but I thought I'd show off. Well, that's done; two preambles is one too many, so this is the last time you'll see me murder this word on my blog. However, I thought I'd add something to my previous foreword.

While pushing my way through the Labor Day weekend mall crowd in Schaumburg, it occurred to me that my preparation would be two-fold. There is the crucial requirement that I get into shape so that my co-pilgrims would not have to accompany me in an emergency vehicle before the trip ends. (I must admit that my compliance in doing the pilgrimage was very much influenced by the fact that one of my co-pilgrims is a doctor.) The other preparation I have to do is emotional/intellectual. I'm not just referring to a pep talk of the "I can do this" variety but also the "man's search for meaning" kind of thing that usually accompanies formidable projects. If I gain neither revelation nor redemption from something as huge as this, well, where does one find it?

Taking Stock: My Body
I weigh 160 pounds.

I am flabby in some places.

I was told about 5 years ago that my lung capacity was less than ideal. After further testing in a hospital (in a plastic bubble that probably showed my capacity for hyperventilating more than normal breathing), this was confirmed. However, the kind specialist also reassured me that the data was modeled on tall, Nordic women and that I shouldn't be too worried.

I am flat-footed and have a bunion on my right foot. In other words, my shoe choices are usually determined by comfort rather than style. (Yes, to all of you who have noticed my rather drab-looking shoes, this is why.)

I have hypertension, but this is well-controlled by medication. Lately, my blood pressure readings have been beautiful.

Taking Stock: My Mind
From Publishers Weekly: "Generally writers fall into one of two camps: those who feel that one can't write without having a firm grasp on Proust, and those who, like Virginia Woolf, are crippled by his influence..."

I am a writer. I have not read Proust. I have not even tried. I'm afraid to belong to either camp above. I have not read "How Proust Can Change Your Life" by Alain De Botton either, although I knew of the book's existence and its reputation as a lively read.

However, I think there is a vacuum in my brain that needs to be filled by Proust. Just look at this quotation by him: "A powerful idea communicates some of its strength to him who challenges it." Genius. And I was told there's much, much more.

So, it's clear there's some work to be done here. This is my first marker: the starting line. Recognition of who and what I am today will propel me from a state of inertia to forward movement, and hopefully, growth. Isn't that what turning older is all about?

Peace,
Almira

Pre-amble: Where I Want to Go

photo copyright Adrian Fletcher www.paradoxplace.com/Photo Pages/Spain/Camino_de_Santiago/Cmino.htm

The Pilgrimage
The Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage consisting of a network of ancient routes starting from France, Portugal and Spain and ending at the tomb of St. James in Santiago de Compostela (SdC) in northwest Spain.

My Journey
I am turning 50 early in 2010, and when some of my friends in the same boat decided to do this, I agreed to join them. Two had done parts of the pilgrimage before and volunteered to take care of the logistics. They've decided to start from Roncasvalles in Navarre (near France); the entire route to SdC is 800 km (497 miles). Only those who walk at least the last 100 km will receive "compostelanas," or certificates, at the Oficina de los Peregrinos in the SdC Cathedral. Supposedly, one's term in purgatory is halved upon completion. Too bad we missed the jubilee year (2008) because during such a year all years in Purgatory are wiped clean.

Along the pilgrim routes are markers to guide the traveler. Similarly, I will mark significant events of my preparation for this journey. While I will document as much as I think you'll find interesting, I will mark only those that I think are worthy of notice, such as significant poundage lost (which is, of course, relative), significant mileage walked, acquisition of new gear (but of course!). Also, be forewarned that since I am a naturally introspective person, this blog will probably contain a lot of questions and very few answers.

For many, the Camino is a spiritual sojourn. I intend to get out of it all I can: meditating on the landscape of my spirituality while I traverse the Spanish terrain, testing the limits of my flat feet and lungs, re-discovering high school friendships (my co-pilgrims are high school classmates from the Philippines, some of whom I haven't seen in 30 years.)

I need to stop for now because I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by the enormity of what lies ahead. My husband just walked in and exclaimed, "Is that how long you're walking?" I hope to pace myself blogging, posting at least every week, taking step by steady step toward the end: September 2010.

Peace,
Almira