From Eric Butterworth's You Make the Difference
" What is the world like to you at this moment --your world? Actually, no two of us live in the same world at any time. Your neighbor may be having a headache, so his or her present world is pain-clouded. Your child may be out playing in a world of all laughter and fun. Your business associate may be poring over charts and statistics, planning a new campaign -- a world both thoughtful and serious.
And you--what of you? Is your world happy, harmonius, healthy? One thing is sure. If anything is making you less than happy right now, it is not likely to be doing so a week, a month, or a year from now. Can you remember what was bothering you a year ago today? Of course not. Your world is constantly changing, and thus a tremendous technique that can give you mastery over life's ups and downs is this: in the face of whatever seems to be irritating or worrisome, say emphatically, "This too shall pass."
You see, your world is made in the image and likeness of whatever you most consistently believe in or give attention to. It follows then that you cannot think one thing and get another. If you are thinking trouble, you will get trouble. Fortunately, the reverse is also true by reason of the same law. If you think health, joy, peace, and love, you will get more of them."
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
french viewing and tessa prieto
Last June 8 (2007, Friday), I was able to get my hands on a few tickets (thanks to Ms. Weckerle) for the show "Company 9.81," an aerial acrobat show by artist Eric Lecomte. This was a part of the French Spring 2007 events this year.
I originally intended for my niece to watch a repeat (as rumours had it) of the fascinating show "Pokemon Crew" because she was so much into percussive dance these days. But there were no repeat shows that night for these incredible dancers who seemed to have gums for bones. Let me backtrack a bit here. I watched the Pokemon Crew (the current group to bag the hip hop dance world title) performance last June 6 and I was mesmerized by the six guys (read: eyes fixed on their abs). Ten minutes into the show and I realized how generous the universe can really get. I did not have to fly out of the country to watch these guys. All I had to do was to be there (and bug my friend Sid for tickets).
Anyway, so there we were at the Little Theater. I have center orchestra tickets but I gave my mom, niece and three other girl officemates the ones nearest to the stage while I huddled with my sister Nymph (real sister, as in blood sister) further back. A few minutes into the performance and I heard a swish of a gown to my left. Lo and behold, there was Tessa Prieto in her signature fabulosa gown. That was my first sighting of Tessa (deep down I knew that I'd meet her one way or another) and I wasn't dissapointed-- she came like a princess. And so, on with the show. Lecomte was the king of weightlessness on stage: sliding like a fish onto the floor then swinging on a limb next like there was no danger beneath him, or that the whole stage itself was water into which he floated effortlessly.
The crowd loved him and we all gave him a generous amount of applause at the end of the show. A few minutes later he re-emerged and wrote something on the slides projected on the wall. The audience could not read clearly what he wrote and so he blurted out "salamat po" and that, of course, earned him another round of applause. There was a forum that followed where the members of the audience did get the chance to ask Lecomte questions. Among Lecomte's answers was his fascination with gravity and that other show he did in the mirror facade of an actual building a few stories off the ground. No, he did not have any special diet: he ate what he could. And no, he did not go to the gym. But yes, certainly, he did have some accidents in the past. He said he's also open to teaching the kind of acrobat skill he performs if there'd be classes that would result from a cultural agreement between France and the Philippines. And just when we thought we had heard all that we had wanted to hear, Tessa raised her hands. She had managed to move forward to the center seats, and there, in her orange gown, asked about the red balloon that Lecomte used in his performance and how it flew about on the stage and up into the beehive-like coverings of the Little Theater ceiling. Lecomte responded that it was a trick and as all tricks are trade secrets, he could not reveal how he'd done it. But he told Tessa that if she would be that insistent, he would later tell her about it backstage. That, of course, went well with the crowd.
Later, I learned from my officemate and friend Sonja that seated in the same row with them was a snooty French guy (who was gorgeous, nonetheless, the time I sneeked a peak at him later). Sonja told me that, at one point during the show, when my other officemates were commenting briefly on the performance, the guy suddenly told them to stop talking. And their mouths, of course, went promptly into their pharynxes. I told them later that they should have told the guy "arret por vous!" or some other bit of french words they could muster. After all, the performance was a totally visual one, not an aural experience. Anyway, they decided to enjoy the rest of the night and went straight towards Lecomte at the stage and had their photos taken promptly with him.
I went ahead through the side exit, and before long, Tessa was also exiting the same side. Of, course, the kikay that I am, I went and asked to be photographed with her. And of course, my nanay, my sister, and my officemates and friends: Caleta and India (true amigas that they were) followed suit. For that moment, at least, we were weightless. :)
I originally intended for my niece to watch a repeat (as rumours had it) of the fascinating show "Pokemon Crew" because she was so much into percussive dance these days. But there were no repeat shows that night for these incredible dancers who seemed to have gums for bones. Let me backtrack a bit here. I watched the Pokemon Crew (the current group to bag the hip hop dance world title) performance last June 6 and I was mesmerized by the six guys (read: eyes fixed on their abs). Ten minutes into the show and I realized how generous the universe can really get. I did not have to fly out of the country to watch these guys. All I had to do was to be there (and bug my friend Sid for tickets).
Anyway, so there we were at the Little Theater. I have center orchestra tickets but I gave my mom, niece and three other girl officemates the ones nearest to the stage while I huddled with my sister Nymph (real sister, as in blood sister) further back. A few minutes into the performance and I heard a swish of a gown to my left. Lo and behold, there was Tessa Prieto in her signature fabulosa gown. That was my first sighting of Tessa (deep down I knew that I'd meet her one way or another) and I wasn't dissapointed-- she came like a princess. And so, on with the show. Lecomte was the king of weightlessness on stage: sliding like a fish onto the floor then swinging on a limb next like there was no danger beneath him, or that the whole stage itself was water into which he floated effortlessly.
The crowd loved him and we all gave him a generous amount of applause at the end of the show. A few minutes later he re-emerged and wrote something on the slides projected on the wall. The audience could not read clearly what he wrote and so he blurted out "salamat po" and that, of course, earned him another round of applause. There was a forum that followed where the members of the audience did get the chance to ask Lecomte questions. Among Lecomte's answers was his fascination with gravity and that other show he did in the mirror facade of an actual building a few stories off the ground. No, he did not have any special diet: he ate what he could. And no, he did not go to the gym. But yes, certainly, he did have some accidents in the past. He said he's also open to teaching the kind of acrobat skill he performs if there'd be classes that would result from a cultural agreement between France and the Philippines. And just when we thought we had heard all that we had wanted to hear, Tessa raised her hands. She had managed to move forward to the center seats, and there, in her orange gown, asked about the red balloon that Lecomte used in his performance and how it flew about on the stage and up into the beehive-like coverings of the Little Theater ceiling. Lecomte responded that it was a trick and as all tricks are trade secrets, he could not reveal how he'd done it. But he told Tessa that if she would be that insistent, he would later tell her about it backstage. That, of course, went well with the crowd.
Later, I learned from my officemate and friend Sonja that seated in the same row with them was a snooty French guy (who was gorgeous, nonetheless, the time I sneeked a peak at him later). Sonja told me that, at one point during the show, when my other officemates were commenting briefly on the performance, the guy suddenly told them to stop talking. And their mouths, of course, went promptly into their pharynxes. I told them later that they should have told the guy "arret por vous!" or some other bit of french words they could muster. After all, the performance was a totally visual one, not an aural experience. Anyway, they decided to enjoy the rest of the night and went straight towards Lecomte at the stage and had their photos taken promptly with him.
I went ahead through the side exit, and before long, Tessa was also exiting the same side. Of, course, the kikay that I am, I went and asked to be photographed with her. And of course, my nanay, my sister, and my officemates and friends: Caleta and India (true amigas that they were) followed suit. For that moment, at least, we were weightless. :)
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