Tag Archives: The Book of Love

In the Advent of E-Books and the iPad… (55/365)

Just like so many other things in my life, there are those I run away from, and there are those I gravitate towards.  Books, I have begun to notice, fall into this pattern as well.  There are books I cannot put down once I’ve started reading (like Anita Daimant’s The Red Tent – a book I still cry over every single time I read it), and there are those that I just cannot seem to finish (like Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being – of which I am still in chapter one).

Presently, I am reliving my journey with Harry Potter – the original plan was to have re-read all 7 books before the second part of the 7th movie came out, but that obviously did not pan out.  I’m currently in the middle of The Half-Blood Prince, excitedly anticipating Harry and Dumbledore’s trip to that little cave in the middle of nowhere.  And then, of course, there’s Dumbledore’s death at the end of the book.  Then it’ll be book 7 and I’ll be bawling while I read Rowling’s note the readers.

Then there’s Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.  I’ve heard so much good stuff about this – and it was kind of hard to miss since bookstores and malls had banners containing reviews that included a quote from Stephanie Meyer saying it was something that she enjoyed reading.  It was very fortunate that I was able to get e-books of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mockingjay – primarily done because I really don’t have enough money to buy all the books I want, but it was also out of curiosity and because Brian’s cousin, Elisha, was looking for copies too.  I mean, so many readers have said it was a good read  They couldn’t all be wrong, could they?

So I tried.  I mean I really tried.

I got really comfortable, opened up my pdf file and prepared myself to get caught up in the whirlwind that was supposedly one of the best books written in the last couple of years.  I started reading, and…


And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.  Not even the slightest spark of interest.

I have to admit, that’s a bit unusual for me – most of the time, I determinedly work my way through the story line until I get a vertical lift off (like Kathleen McGowan’s The Book of Love).  This time, most reminiscent of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, I just couldn’t get into it.  At least when I attempted to read The Unbearable Lightness of Being, I was able to get to the end of chapter 1.  This time, I couldn’t even get to page 3.  Since then, I’ve closed The Hunger Games file and have never attempted to read it again.  I haven’t even thought about giving it another go.  Until tonight.

I happened on this blog called The Read Queen and found a rather interesting way of possibly getting through books I have trouble finishing.  This particular blog put up a series called a Read-Along (and it did help that the book she’s currently reading is The Hunger Games).  Every week, the author reads a chapter and then writes about it – ensuring that the whole book eventually gets read, albeit the longer timeline.  It got me thinking… I could do this.  I could try reading it again – this time with armed with a plan.  Who knows?  Maybe I just need that little extra push to get to the point of vertical lift off.

So here’s to another go at The Hunger Games.  And since the weekend’s just beginning, the first Read-Along might just come out sooner than you think.

Blessed Be…


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Lovers Alone Wear Sunlight (37/365)

I began reading The Second Summer of the Sisterhood late last night and finished it about half and hour ago.  The title to this post is something I picked up from the book – it was something e.e. cummings wrote.  Although too many things happened today (most of which I will write about in another entry, probably), this was what I wanted to share, at least for tonight…  


“…She used to read Kostos’ letters so often she had pulled out every possible nuance, every meaning, every drop of emotion.  She had sucked them so dry she was surprised they didn’t burst into powder.  She remembered the joy when a new letter would arrive – full of potential, unread.  She remembered thinking that the multitude of fresh, unfelt feelings made the new envelope sit heavy in her hands.

She perched cross-legged, hypnotically opening them one by one.  In the beginning she had often been struck by the formality of Kostos’ writing, constantly reminding her that he wasn’t an American or a teenager.  The it had all fallen away and he was just him.

The first one was from early last September, soon after she’d left him and Santorini for home.

The memories are so close I feel your presence everywhere.  And I see forward so clearly and sadly to a time when the memories will be distant.  I won’t be able to picture your painting things scattered on the flat rock in Ammoudi or your bare feet soaking up the sunshine of Valia’s garden wall.  Now I see them.  Soon I will remember them.  Long after that I will remember remembering.  I don’t want any more hours to pass to separate me from you.  Tonight I was packing for London, hating to leave this place where we were together.

The next one, sent later that month, had a postmark from England, where Kostos had moved to study at the London School of Economics.

There are five of us in a three-bedroom flat.  Karl from Norway, Yusef from Jorad, and a couple of Brits from up north who’ve barely moved in.  London is loud and shiny and thrilling.  I’ve waited for it for a long time, and still, it’s startling to be here.  Classes begin Tuesday.  Last night I had a couple of pints (cupla is the term – no matter how many) with Yusef at a pub on our street.  I couldn’t help telling him about you.  He understood.  He has a girl back home.

The next letter was from October.  She remembered her surprise at the Greek postmark.  It had been written just after Kostos’s grandfather had his heart attack.  Kostos had dutifully gone back home to Santorini.  Instead of studying macroeconomics with world-famous professors, he was making boat fittings in the archaic family forge.  That was the kind of person Kostos was.

Lena, please don’t worry about me.  It was my choice to come back.  Really.  The LSE isn’t going anywhere.  I’ve already received a deferment.  It was no trouble finding a guy to take over the flat.  I’m not sorry about it.  My bapi is recovering quickly now.  He sat in the forge with me while I worked today.  He clams he’ll be back to full schedule by Christmas and I’ll be back in school for the new year, but I don’t need to rush.  I’ll take care of Bapi’s business first.

I went swimming in our olive grove the night I got back.  I was delirious thinking of you.

He’d originally written making love to you, then crossed it out about a thousand times.  But when Lena read the letter from the back in the perfect light, she could read the censored words.  And as many times as she read them, their impact never faded.  Each word burst like a firework in her brain.  Longing.  Agony.  Bliss.  Pain.

Had he made love to this new girlfriend?  The thought seared her breain like a hot coal, and she tossed it out as fast as she could.

The next letter she pulled from the pile was from December.  The letters from this period still evoked a throb of Shame in Lena’s chest.  She was only lad she didn’t have possession of her own letters.

Your last letter sounded so distant, Lena.  I tried to call you on Monday.  Did you get the message?  Are you feeling all right?  How are your friends? Bee?

I tell myself your spirits were down the day you wrote.  You’re fine and we’re fine.  I hope it’s true.

Then came fateful January.  Whatever courage had bloomed inside her last August had withered in the cold winter.  She’d become huddled and impermeable again.  She’s written a cowardly letter and he’s responded.

Maybe it’s just too far.  The Atlantic Ocean seemed small in September.  Now, even the Caldera looms for me like the edge of an uncrossable distance.  I have dreams where I swim and swim and I always end up on a different shore of this island.  Maybe we’ve been apart too long.

And then she’d broken it off completely, promising herself she would be whole again.  But she wasn’t whole again.  She was still missing him.

Of course I understand, Lena.  I knew this could happen.  If I were away in London, working hard in university, it would all feel different to me.  Just being here on this island, longing to be somewhere else… I will miss you.


Such sad letters of longing and love and loss.  The entire book made me cry – and the passages I copied were just part of it.  I wish I could write it all down here… But that would be too tedious and take too long.  It’s late and in two hours, I will begin another week, albeit a short one this time.

Time… I wonder why I always feel I am running after it, forever begging for a little more.  There never seems to be enough.

Blessed Be…

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To He Who is Worthy

And so it was that the Queen of the South became known as the Queen of Sheba, which was to say, the Wise Queen of the people of Sabea.  Her given name was Makeda, which in her own tongue was “the fiery one”.  She was a priestess-queen, dedicated to a goddess of the sun who was known to shine beauty and abundance upon the joyous people known as Sabeans.  They goddess was known as “she who sends forth her strong rays of benevolence.”  Her consort was the mood god and the stars were their children.

The people of Sabea were wise above most others in the world, with an understanding of the influence of the stars and the sanctity of numbers that came from their heavenly deities.  They were called the People of Architecture, and their structures rivaled those of the greatest Egyptians, so astonishing was their understanding of building in stone.  The queen was the founder of great schools to teach such art and architecture, and the sculptors that served her were able to create images of gods and med in stone that were of exceptional beauty.  Her people were literate and committed to the written word and the glory of writing.  Poetry and song flourished within her compassionate realm.

A virtuous people were the Sabeans.  Their fiery sun queen reigned in her kingdo, with warmth, light, and love, and they were therefore possessed every kind of abundance: love, joy, fertility, wisdom, as well as all the gold and jewels, anyone could require.  Because they never doubted the existence of abundance, they were never knew a day of want.  It was the most golden of kingdoms.

It came to pass that the great King Solomon learned of this unparalleled Queen Makeda by virtue of a prophet who advised him, “A woman who is your equal and counterpart reigns in a faraway land of the South.  You would learn much from her, and she from you.  Meeting her is your destiny.”  Solomon did not, at first, believe that such a woman could exist, but his curiosity caused him to send an invitation for her, a request to visit his own kingdom on holy Mount Sion.  The messengers who came to Sabea to advise the great and fiery Queen Makeda of Solomon’s invitation discovered that his wisdom was already legendary in her land, as was the splendor of his court, and she had awareness of him.  Her own prophetess had foreseen that she would one day travel far to find the kind with whom she would perform the hieros-gamos, the sacred marriage that combined the body with the mind and spirit in the act of divine union.  He would be the twin brother of her soul, and she would become his sister-bride, halves of the same whole, complete only in their coming together.

But the Queen of Sheba was not a woman easily won and would not give herself in so sacred a union to any but the man she would recognize as a part of her soul.  As she made the great trek to Mount Sion with her camel train, Makeda devised a series of tests and questions that she would put to the king.  His answers to these would determine if he was her equal, her own soul’s twin, conceived as one at the dawn of eternity.

For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.

The Legend of Solomon and Sheba,

Part One, as preserved in the Libro Rosso

The Book of Love,

Pages 27 to 28

Blessed Be…

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…Knows How the Time-Space Continuum Works

I (pause for effect), woke up on the wrong side of the bed… and maybe this is not the best time for me to be writing because I have no filtering system during moments like these.

My other half went home to Bulacan for a blood drive.  He left at 6:30 am, saying that he would be back by around 1:00 pm or 2:00 pm.  Well, guess what?  I woke up after 2:00 pm… and he wasn’t here.  I’ve had conversations with Yolly about something like this probably a month and a half ago.  Our point was this:  It’s okay to be somewhere else… BUT LET US KNOW.  I don’t mind that he couldn’t make it back by the time that he kept promising over and over again, but when I had to initiate communication because I’ve woken up after the promised time and couldn’t find him here and that was the only time that he sent a message saying that he was still two hours away from Manila… THEN it became a little annoying.

Sent to Boyfriend (8:36 am): Mahal?  Kamusta ka naman po sa byahe?

Received from Boyfriend (8:37 am): Ok naman po.  Bakit hindi ka pa din natutulog?

Sent to Boyfriend (8:38 am): Hindi pa ako makatulog eh.  Pero mejo inaantok na ako.  Nakarating ka na ba?

Received from Boyfriend (8:41 am): Wala pa ko s munisipyo pero nasa hagonoy na ko.

Sent to Boyfriend (8:50 am): I love you

Received from Boyfriend (8:50 am): I love you too!

Received from Boyfriend (9:19 am): Mahal, dito na po ako sa munisipyo.

Sent to Boyfriend (11:22 am): Mahal?

Received from Boyfriend (11:23 am): Yes po? Dito pa po ako.  Daming tao eh.

Sent to Boyfriend (2:21 pm): Mahal?

Received from Boyfriend (2:22 pm): Yes po?  Kakakuha lang ng dugo sa kin.  Uwi na ako after.

Sent to Boyfriend (2:22 pm): Hala.  Ang late naman.

Received from Boyfriend (2:24 pm): ang dami kasing tao.  Tas nagkita pa kami ni Rodwin.  Kamusta ka po dyan?  Direcho na po ako dyan.

Sent to Boyfriend (2:28 pm): Kakagising ko lang.  Sakit ng ulo ko.

Received from Boyfriend (2:38 pm): Inom ka po ng gamot.  Direcho na po ako jan?

Sent to Boyfriend (2:29 pm): Ikaw

Sent to Boyfriend (2:45 pm): The pictures of the blood drive was posted a couple of hours ago.  Mukha naman syang successful.

Received from Boyfriend (2:48 pm): Oo nga.  Meh mga pics din ako. Dami tao. Puro samahan ng mga trike drivers saka mga tao sa opisina.  Magkasama lang kami ni Rodwin ngayon.

Sent to Boyfriend (2:49 pm): Not for anything, Mahal, pero sana nagmessage ka na hindi ka makakauwi agad.  Ok lang naman ng magtagal ka jan eh.

Received from Boyfriend (2:50 pm): Kanina pa po ako nagtetext.

One of my many talents is poking holes at arguments… and there were so many holes in the logic presented through the messages that we exchanged.  After his last, I refused to send another message lest this becomes another one of our fights.  And I really can’t deal with anything like that right now.  Hey, at least I told him what I felt (very euphemistically).  That’s a lot better than just keeping it inside again and then feeling incredibly repressed. Sometimes, while I commute going to the office, I often find myself coming up with theories about my life.  I do like taking the alternative route to Burgundy.  It’s my quiet time.  It allows me to think about so many things without really having to filter.  That’s one of my weaknesses – my ability to filter sometimes overpowers to my ability to express what I really wanted to say.  Anyway, at one point, I started wondering what would my cause of death be and came up with this:

Cause of Death: Cardiac Arrest

I’ll be the first to admit that the lifestyle I lead is not the healthiest.  I’m not careful of what I eat and I don’t exercise regularly.  Compound that with the inexplicable fear of getting into a confrontational situation and you have a really, really good formula for cardiac arrest.  Most studies show that men are more prone to having illnesses related to the heart because men, by nature, compartmentalize more and are less expressive of their emotions.  In that aspect, I am very, very much like a man.  And, if I don’t find ways of venting out all my ill feelings, I have no doubt that I will die very, very much like a man as well.


On a side note, I posted the Pater Noster in my blog because it was something that I knew I could believe in.  The teachings in the Way of Love does not even contradict my beliefs in the Divine Feminine.  It’s a very fresh perspective on doctrine and Christianity and it somehow gives me hope that one day, maybe I will find my way back to the church as how it was truly supposed to be.

Right now, I realize that there are a couple of petals that I need to work on.

Holed Up in: Our Room in Colorado

Drowning In: Dialogues from 24, Season 6 (and I really need to start paying attention)

Blessed Be.

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Pater Noster

Pray in the manner in which I have instructed you, using the rose as the model for the Holy Spirit.

And working from left to the right always, embrace the first petal of the holy rose, which is to say the petal of FAITH, and pray,

To Our Father Who is Benevolent and Reigns in Heaven,

You names are hallowed and sacred.

Contemplate here your faith in the Lord your God and the grace of the Holy Spirit, while giving gratitude for the presence of both in your life and on earth.

Embrace the second petal, which is to say the petal of SURRENDER, and pray,

Your kingdom comes to us through obedience to your will.

Thy will be done.

Listen to the voice of your Father that you may hear his will and carry it out without fear or fail.  Stay in this petal for as long as it takes you to submerge yourself and find the blessed release of surrender to his will rather than your own.

Embrace the third petal, which is to say the petal of SERVICE, and pray,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Here you will reaffirm your promise, to God and to yourself, if you are fully anthropos and have remembered it.  If you have not yet reached the state of realization, you will confirm your commitment to create heaven of earth by acting in accordance with the Way of Love, by loving the Lord thy God above all else, and by loving your brothers and sisters on earth as yourself, for they are a part of yourself.  You will pray then for enlightenment, that through gnosis you will remember the nature of your own eternal promise.

Embrace now the fourth petal, which is to say the petal of ABUNDANCE, and pray,

Give us this day our daily bread, the manna.

Give thanks to the Lord for all he has provided you and know that when you live in harmony with hi will, and honor your promise to his service, you will know the bounty of abundance and never have a day of want,  There is nothing that you need or desire that will not be provided you when you live in the flow of God’s grace, and when you have aligned yourself with God’s will.

Embrace the fifth petal, which is to say the petal of FORGIVENESS, and pray,

And forgive us for our errors and debts,

As we forgive ourselves and all others.

Here you must list those who have harmed you, who have given ill witness against you, or who have otherwise caused you pain.  And you must forgive them, while praying that they will one day be fully anthropos and realize their own connection to God and remember their own promise.  You must ask that anyone you have offended forgive you in the same way, and most of all you must forgive yourself for all the actions and thoughts that have brought shame upon you in your human weakness.  For while all forgiveness is the balm of our compassionate Mother, self-forgiveness is needed most of all.

Embrace the sixth petal, which is to say the petal of STRENGTH, and pray,

Keep me on the parth of righteousness and

Deliver me from the temptation of evil.

For temptation is that which keeps us from becoming fully realized beings.  It prevents us from keeping our promise to God and to ourselves and to each other and is found through the temptations of avarice, hubris, sloth, lust, wrath, gluttony, and envy most of all.  Contemplate these sins and pray for your release from any that tempt you from the path of the anthropos.

Pray in this manner that I have given you, and teach your brothers and sisters in spirit to do the same.  It is through this prayer that they will live as love expressed.

Love Conquers All.

For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.

The prayer of the Six-Petaled Rose,

From the Book of Love,

As Preserved in the Libro Rosso

Pages 219 to 221

The Book of Love

Holed Up in: The Big Room in Colorado

Drowning in: The Hum of the Air Conditioner

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Weekend Most Wanted

My Star Sign for today actually makes sense…

The Bottom Line

Today’s tasks won’t take too much energy or enthusiasm – it’s an autopilot today.


Do you know your limits? Now’s a great time to get a better idea of what you can and cannot do, or else you will end up getting frustrated. Recently, you have been pushing yourself to stretch and grow, but if you continue on this aggressive path you will get overwhelmed. To prevent that, you have to take care of yourself. It’s time to act more conservatively and slow down. Take a step back from life — you won’t miss out on a thing.

I woke up at 5:30 pm today.  Boyfriend and I were supposed to go to GH, have a dinner (it’s our monthsary) and watch a movie… we’ve changed that into a nice dinner at home.  We’ll probably spend a most of the night watching DVDs or Visionaries, eating homemade popcorn.  I am mentally and emotionally exhausted.  I really do need to just stop and rest.

Sometimes I feel that more appropriate term is to give myself a break… and maybe forgive myself a little.

Work is no longer a refuge these days… it’s not what I do that’s become a chore, it’s the people I deal with.  Deep, deep down inside I’m in awe of what Aida did – leaving the company after 6 years of working there.  When something like this happens – someone I know deciding to change their paths – it makes me wonder why I can’t do it.  I’ve got good credentials, I know I’m highly competent and absolutely brilliant (=p)… so why can’t I let go of this thing that is starting to tear at my soul and try finding fulfillment elsewhere?

I know I have to stop being afraid of having to start again.  Why is this so difficult when I’ve rewritten myself so many times?

*sigh* So many questions… so little time to figure out the answers.

In an effort not to depress myself to death, let’s move on to other things…

I’ve finally finished Kathleen McGowan’s Book of Love.  It took me a while to get into it, but once I did, I couldn’t put the book down (which caused me a couple of sleepless mornings).  As a tribute to the beautiful passages that I’ve read, I’m planning to put some of it here.  This blog’s earned a couple of steady readers and I know they’d appreciate that too.

Currently, I’m fixating on Emmy Rossum and her song “Slow Me Down”.  It’s very reminiscent of Michelle Tumes’ Lovely which, by the way, Rossum has revived.  It’s haunting without sounding too much like a Gregorian Chant.  I’ve asked Boyfriend to download her songs for me.

I had a couple of weird dreams today – none of which I can remember with much clarity.  I have this feeling that I dreamt of one thing, became semi-awake, fell back asleep and dreamt of something else.  What I do remember is one of my dreams had Rachelle in it.  I wish from the bottom of my heart that I could remember what it was about.  All I have left is knowing that in the dream we were very much aware of each other’s existence… to the point that we actually had conversations.  Again, I wished I could remember more.

Oooohh… Dinner time! Gotta go!  Gotta go!  Gotta go!

Holed Up In The Big Room in Colorado

Drowning in The Hum of the Aircon

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