For a while there I thought I would never get this written. Tuesday night and almost the whole of Wednesday were the days of that storm whose name I can’t recall. I could not sleep until around 3 a.m., woke up very early to text my driver and tell him not to come.
I reached out to three people — my daughter, my son and my driver — the core characters in my life. We were all scared. My daughter described it as apocalyptic. My son described it as scary. My driver as nakakatakot. I stayed in bed, terrified by the sounds you hear when you live so high up in the sky. First the wind sounded like 30 cats mewling, or 300 babies screaming wild laments. Then it got worse. I remembered my mother’s farm and the train that passed by at around five in the morning. Last night that train was on the small porch outside my bedroom heading towards me.
I spent some of the morning walking around noticing the whipped and tossed flower pots around my porches but I could not get to them. I read and fell asleep. I woke up hungry, had cookies, potato chips and Coca-Cola for breakfast. Then an instant noodle soup with five cold pan de sal for lunch. Read and slept again. What is there to do when the storm is tumultuous outside?
Then, just as suddenly, quiet returned. No lights, true, but there was still sunlight. No computer, so no games. The world looked clean, tidy, newly washed, hopeful. There will be tomorrow again. Strange. One minute you feel the storm blast in your ears. Rainwater splashes heavily on the glass door near my bed. I look out of my window and see cars on the road at whatever hour. Then suddenly life is brand-new again.
It brought to mind the Jung conference we held at Club Filipino last week. One of my dear friends who attended called it superb. What a job it was to put together, people meeting, talking, arguing, but at the end always coming together in agreement. I thought the first day was absolutely wonderful. We had the best Jung speakers then. What is a Jung speaker? Someone who speaks from the heart, who takes off from her personal experience and who illustrates how Jung touched her life, not through personal contact with him, but through reading his works, attending workshops and seminars. I have been to so many Jung seminars since 1995 and still I discover something new.
This time I discovered that I was once more rising from the dead, metaphorically, of course. Sophie Sim-Bate talked about death, something like depression or profound boredom, not doing anything innovative or fun. One of the markers for women is dyeing their hair. Uh-oh, I thought, I know that’s me. Have you seen me lately? When I moved homes I allowed my hair to grow wild and discovered a lot of white hair. I looked so old. One morning I decided to go to the parlor and have my entire head dyed red. Well, they chose the wrong shade of red and it was so expensive. I hated it. Then one day walking through drugstores I saw an auburn dye for less than P70. I bought it and re-dyed my hair. Now it has the reddish sheen I like. It is a sign that I am coming back to life.
The second day was so different. It was truly Pinoy. We were introduced to the baybayin, our traditional alphabet, to dances, to the babaylan, and to the Black Nazarene. Then Art Valdez talked about being a mountain (Mt. Everest) climber and a sea navigator on a balangay, one of our early boats. He brought the Hero’s Journey to life.
Finally, Rose Yenko spoke about Filipino archetypes. We took a test to determine what our archetypes were. I was delighted to find that I am an artist and a mystic. After the conference we took our American guests out to dinner and enjoyed ourselves immensely discussing possible future partnerships.
When I think about it, the second Jung conference was like going through a typhoon. For me, the emotions were mixed. In the beginning I was scared of the outcome, afraid that the flow wouldn’t happen, that participants would regret coming but now they loved it. At the end of the conference, quiet descended, and we looked around, looked at each other and agreed. It looks beautiful. It looks clear and doable. We will have many tomorrows getting better and better acquainted with Carl Jung, adapting his teachings to the Philippines. Possibly saving the country.
I thank all those who read my column, went to the conference, and bought our creative endeavors on display there.
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