A WRITER’S PRAYER

writer’s prayer, picture credit to google

This is a share, a re-blog (not quite sure if that is the word for it) of a blog written by Joanne Guidoccio in a post she did two, three days ago.  If you’re reading this, Joanne, thank you, again.

Two years ago, I participated in a series of Artist’s Way workshops facilitated by Lisa Browning of One Thousand Trees. During one of those sessions, I encountered an interesting task: Create an artist’s prayer. While reflecting and researching, I discovered the following Writer’s Prayer written by Sandy Tritt:

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YOU DON’T KNOW ME

…   …   “You give your hand to me and then you say hello”   …   …

Michael Buble

The hopeless romantics among you (me included) know this is not my line.  It is from a composition entitled: “You Don’t Know Me”.  This song was vastly popular back in the days, was rendered by various artists with big names enough to be set forth in glitzy neon lights.

Of them all I like the take of Michael Buble.  He brings the tune off to a new plane with his talk-like manner of serenade and the folksy style with which he carried himself.  And of the so many that covered the piece, Buble is the youngest, and, quite the bit unexpected to hang around to an old melody.  But he did it.  He breathes life into and made relevant what should have been a long-forgotten relic.

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WHY THE SKY IS BLUE

Blue skies and seas

Long time ago, the oceans weren’t blue.  They were as clear as your glass of drinking water.  So, when people take to the beach or travel on it, they see through all the way down the deepest recesses, as clear as we see distant horizons.  This unnerved the fisherfolks to see serpentine-like sea creatures slither through and disappear in the underwater chasm.

The sea god, Dagatan disliked this too.  Dagatan felt that human encroachment into his watery world is already something; giving off privacy is too much.  Something has got to be done.  So, the sea god gathered his subjects to talk things through.  They finally agreed to put up a five-foot thick layer of blue colored water screen.  This veneer of blinder installed ten feet below ocean surface is to prevent prying eyes to filter through.

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THE CHAIR

The Chair

A chair is still a chair even if there is no one sitting there – so, goes a line of an old song.  No doubt, yet even a chair may a have story worth telling if one only sees it with one’s heart.

Of all, I choose this chair.  This because it’s old, made of wood and avow of old money – mounds of money, perhaps.  And this in particular, because it seems to have it all.  This woodwork is seasoned, imbued with character and craftsmanship that can only be described as a labor of love and the promise of stories of times past.

This chair is old and frayed with patches of thinning wood stains on some areas that lay bare its woodiness.  The visible wood grains follow imaginary sinuous contours of alternating light and dark tracts that tell of its growth at diverse seasons. Although the grains follow a serpentine-like path, it is ultimately concentric and whose spider web appearance is permanently fossilized into the wood.  At its center is a dark soft, corky wood matter.  This Achilles is carved out and refilled with body filler and sealed.

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LIKE

I’d like to teach …

 

Let me indulge you to a different kind of writing experience and hope you’ll join.  I’ll bullet things I like doing.  I’ll put it in a sentence that begins with “I like …”  For example: “I like movies”.  But instead of outright run-on sentences, I’ll expand the sentence, example: “I like movies”.  I’ll expand this to, “I like watching scary movies at night over garlic flavored bag of tortilla chips”.  Ready?

“I like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony”. Sorry, I can’t help it.  Yes, this is a line from an old song

“I like the gut wrenching total abandon of downhill ride on mountain bike over twisty turns and devil-may-care drops”

“I like when things veer off to an exciting turn than meander on the mundane”

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THE CRAZE BEHIND TITOS AND TITAS OF CEBU

Patugtug …

Afraid to scratch the tracks and ruin the record, I held my breath to steady my hands as I lifted the needle from the recording that played on the vinyl player.  Abruptly, the music stopped and silence descended like the sword of Damocles.  I replaced the vinyl record with a more upbeat “Manila Sounds” and chase it with syncopated dance steps.

You may be stunned at how we do things back in the days – quite understandably so.  But each time we reminisce, the memory never fails to crack a smile into our faces.  Especially when pictures are shared and talked upon – in real-time.  Such is CLASSIC BAI, TITOS AND TITAS OF CEBU, a Facebook group page that features anything and everything old timer from 1960’s to 1990’s.  And so, the past is a repertoire of memories good and bad, yet the mind tends to romanticize the past to make us feel bad of the present.

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