The Way of The Sword

We often watch slasher movies for entertainment, particularly anything that portrays wielding swords and roaring battle cries. Sometimes we love to watch skull splits and blood splatters; piercing arrows and penetrating spears.
Gruesome as it seems, people tend to focus on the thrill they get when someone is killed brutally and not on the essence of why the film is shot in the first place. But we all have individual misgivings, I guess.

This thought of mine comes from my love of samurai films and the bushido code. The term samurai originally meant "those who serve in close attendance to nobility", while the bushido code means "the way of the warrior". 
(wikipedia) The samurai, per se, refers to a specific military class tracing from the pre-industrial period of Japan. 

What urged me to admire these people is that of their undaunted discipline towards everything they do or the craft have passion to. For instance, a religious samurai would spent his entire day chanting the mantra of Buddha; while a sword master would make his early exercises of sword and skill daily, in order not to dull his techniques. It is also evident in samurai families to practice this kind of discipline; entering an abode requires a bow of respect for its inhabitant's ancestors and a simple brew of tea requires intricate skill of preparation.

Coal hard discipline, honorable defeat,mastery of craft and preservation of lore. These are the things I lack, for I am driven with fear and despair. Warriors empty their mind to deliver swift blows to the enemy as well as to think of verses to write to their haiku. These things I wish to absorb as I watch these movies and admire their craft. Hopefully, my generation would become the modern Samurai of today, if only these principles and codes are seeded in our brains.

One thing I learned in watching these films is that their codes are followed religiously; principles defended with an iron grip; honor conveyed, but in the end of the day, in the eyes of the enemy, in the eyes of every problems we encounter, it is best to follow the way of the sword.

Thrust forward, or perish in dishonor. Die fighting, or live the life of sorrow.

An Ode to Hate: Reasons are Deaf

Reasons to shout
-Words flying
Reasons to worry
-Words so deafening

Bitter and cold
-Your heart whispered something
Lies were forged
-All meant nothing

Black as death
-My heart regret
Chill as ice
-You'll never forget

Please forgive me
-I'm sick of you
Please release me
-I hate you

Hate my attitude
-Said by her
I love you
-Heard no one ever

Sick and tired
-Full of regret
Hate incurable
-Will this ever end?

I'm angry
-So is you
Our hearts expand
-Deaf anew

Words define
-All is worse
Please hear me
-It gets worst

Kicked in the balls
-I tremble and scream
Twice not once
-Slapped in a whim

Fingers pointed
-I murmur in dismay
What was that again?
-Not gonna join the fray

Relationship worsens
-Care to sway?
Words unspoken
-Words decay

I'd love to talk
-Never again
Please listen
-What would I gain?

Cold as death
-You treat me as such
Demonic victory
-Thank you very much

It's just a phase
-Hoping for the best
Let's start anew
-Walk in a tempest

-J.Cruz

It's so good in SOGOD

Happy Fiesta! Pit Senyor!

-These were the phrases shouted on a feverish Sinulog-driven, Sunday 20^th of January. I recall thinking about joining tomorrow’s trip north of Cebu, while strolling inside the mouth of the beast; the horde infested with wasted individuals, along the long street towards cabanas/baseline. I thought, if I ever get out alive (and not wasted), I might be able to arrive on time, set for tomorrow’s trip (which eventually, I failed to do so). Bottles and booze fly all over me while my mind is bent on something else. Sometimes I laugh at myself in silence; I must be really ‘fun’ at parties, the introvert within me kicks and cries.

I arrived home, 2:50am and barely slept an hour, for my eyes were stillborn. The rendezvous time in North bus terminal was supposedly 5:00am, and I woke up at 6:00am! Luckily, all of my travel buddies were in the same predicament as mine; all tired and experiencing individual hangovers from yesterday’s event. We departed, I guess, 8:35am from North Bus terminal via Ceres Bus. I was not sure if it was exactly the time set for the trip or was it a special trip, for we barely spent time checking on ‘time’. We arrived at Carmen bus stop, 9:45am, to relieve ourselves from hunger and thirst. Passing Catmon, my mind switch from blank to full capacity, for I sense a slight negativity present on that place. Flashbacks started to rewind at the back of my mind, and it was painful (physically, I felt a slight ‘crawling’ feeling at my arteries near my ears). For what it is, I wish not to tell, since it was something personal.

A dog in Poblacion Public Market

 

An evidence that northern Cebuanos wore friendly smiles

Nevertheless, it was a sign that we were close. We passed Poblacion, Sogod at 10:20am. We got down the bus at Brgy. Bagatayam and went on our friend’s granny; her house situated near the main road, a walking distance from Bagatayam Falls. From there, we rest for at least half an hour before we started walking our way  1-2 km from her granny’s place going to the market to buy food. Along the way, we stopped at the bridge to get a glimpse of what we were after; our quarry located almost on a spitting distance from the road!

At the market, I took off my camera to take photographs of people and things. A certain kind of fish caught my attention. It’s obviously a specie of half-beak fish but larger. In our place near the shores, we call them “Tawilis” but they were smaller compared to these fishes in the market. Out of curiosity, I ask what they call these fishes. They replied “Pilangan mana sa amoa”. My tummy, as curious as my head, urged me to buy ¼ kilo of these fishes for 45php. Since I didn’t find any delicacy present in Sogod, I might as well eat these fish a la sugba in order to not disappoint my ever hungry stomach since the fish was new to me. We got home to where we stayed via tricycle. At the place, we prepared Kilawin, Sinugbang isda and La-maw for the coconut there was freshly harvested by my friend.

You know it's fresh when it doesn't reek of fish :p

We took off from the place via Habal-habal for a discounted price of 15php. It was past noon that time, for we arrived 2:30pm+ at Binaliw Cold Springs, the repository of Bagatayam falls, to eat lunch. We therefore sampled the area for a dip and played a game of coin-locating along the cold stream that lasted at least an hour. We then packed our bags and started trekking towards the falls. Along the way, we were bothered by the inaccessibility of the stream, which in my assessment, is ½ of the entire stream. So we took a side trip towards near civilization and hit the dirt road. We arrived at Bagatayam falls 3:45pm and I took photos of the falls from the side angle, for the water flows ‘fatter’ if I shoot at the side. Following a certain protocol, I shot both landscape and portrait view of the falls. We then took a cottage located downstream and took our last dip. We drank our baon na lapad and shared stories, hitting almost 5:00pm of the afternoon. We got home dark; took showers and changed clothes then we head towards the city, hearts contented and minds fulfilled.

It’s so good in SOGOD. ~

Ciao

-j.cruz

In comitatu lupórum

Adrift in the sea of thoughts,
I ponder how I should describe my essence in it's present state.

I have been gloomy all this time,
thinking and thinking on things worth living.
Wounded by despair and anxiety, my soul is famished.

Still, I wonder, what might urged me to do things
that will describe me as someone loathsome?

Still, I wonder why I deserved to be called as such,
yet I don't see anything good from someone who called me as such.

 Shall I taunt her hatred by being pitiful in her eyes? 

Or should I rather sulk on a corner and mumble in content.

 I don't want to talk anymore, for I'm afraid of what I might say.

Going on a paradox, my mind has been. 

It sound like straight from that of a jedi master,
but it's all I can process in.

My thoughts were weary, my brain goes blank. 

Every time I think of escaping, I only feed fear. 

But why am I talking about feeding in the first place? 

Why am I talking at random? 

Without context, without concrete lines. 

It is because I'm famished, my soul is hungry. 

I feel empty.

To feed such hunger I drift, like a vagabond, on places I'm not familiar with.

To cure such pain, I learn to cast aside the ever threatening past;
never to haunt me again.

For this day, I will drift along people I barely knew.
For this day,I will be at their side.

For this day onward, I pledge my rebirth.

All in line, in the company of wolves.

-j.cruz