My HBD family

Started out with the celebration of the birthdays of Gary, CP and me way back in August/September of 2004. HBD is a group of smart, talented, fun-seeking and beautiful people bound together by friendship that evolved, after all these years, into a loving family. The HBD family.

The Boys: Gary Samson, Ren Molon, Julian Saavedra, Patrick Lubaton and Carl Patrick Canlas

The Ladies:Jennifer Puey, Jacq Gulay, Wee Dimalanta, Jinggay Gonzales and Di Odulio

Untitled from Jennifer Chinggirl on Vimeo.

Thanks for the video, Jen.:-)

Daddy Wowie

Dear Wowie,

On your special day, my only wish is for you to become that great man and wonderful father that you want to be for Kate and Baby Noah. Always bear in mind the lessons Papa has taught us and let it be your guide as you enter this uncharted but exciting path of fatherhood.

Happy Birthday bro, all the best to you.


Love,

Kuya Patrick

Tateekins

My Dear Tatee,

Though miles keep us apart, know that you are always in our thoughts. We miss you a lot Tats, and we are all anticipating your coming home this Christmas. May you be blessed with happiness and love in all your days. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Kuya Patrick

Revenge of the Aswang (short story)

It was a dark and windy night. The coconut trees swayed with every gust of the amihan and their leaves murmured in the howling wind. Moises looked out the window of his hut into the darkness. In between puffs of his cigarette, he pondered on the words said to him earlier by the strange man on the cart… “Humanda ka. Gaganti kami.”

Who were they? he asked himself. It was the first time that he saw them but strangely enough, Moises felt as if they knew him. He turned around and saw his wife sleeping soundly on the banig. The flame in the old gasera flickered and cast eerie shadows in the walls of the hut. Moises finished his cigarette and flicked the butt outside making a glowing arch as it landed. After putting the gasera at a small altar in the corner of the hut, Moises crawled up to his wife and lay beside her.

From beyond the fields, just after the clearing, two pairs of eyes were watching….waiting….

Moises could not sleep a wink. His thoughts were of the words Lolo Oming said when he told him about the strange people he met earlier that day. “They are creatures of the night,” Lolo Oming explained. “They are like us by day, but when dusk sets in, their hunger for human flesh consumes them. Especially fetuses, they can smell them from far away. My tatay said that an unborn baby exudes the aroma of pinipig, that’s why they take a liking for them.”

“Aswangs are a cursed race. And such curse is passed on from one generation to the next. When an aswang is dying, it looks for someone (usually a member of the family) to pass on its power. Usually it’s the first born who is chosen. The dying aswang, before breathing his last, will cough out a black chick from its mouth. It will then enter the recipient’s through the mouth and settle in his stomach. That creature is the cause of the aswang’s hunger for human flesh.”

“The only way to kill an aswang, just like anything, is to mortally wound them. They are also known to be shape shifters, taking the shape of animals, usually a dog or pig, so be wary of these animals, especially at night.” Lolo Oming cautioned Moises.

“Here, take this with you.” added Lolo Oming as he handed Moises a bag of salt and a buntot pagi whip. “The salt burns like acid on their skin on contact, and the whip inflicts a nasty wound on them that takes a fortnight to heal. Keep them and use them when the time comes. They’ll be back.”

Moises sat up and lit another cigarette. He noticed that the surroundings were quiet, too quiet that it was deafening. The cicadas stopped chirping, even the leaves on the trees were dead still. From a distance, Moises heard a faint sound of flapping wings, and then a long bone-chilling howl.

God help us. whispered Moises as he reached for his bolo under his pillow. The flapping sounds drew nearer and nearer, and then……CRASH!

The hut’s window blew wide open and on its sill, a dark, bat-like creature loomed before him. It big red eyes stared at him as the creature opened its mouth revealing sharp fangs that glistened in the gasera’s light. The creature nimbly jumped to the bamboo floor and inched towards Moises and his wife. The noise roused the latter from her sleep, and upon seeing the creature, she screamed almost hysterically. Moises wasted no moment and hurled a handful of salt to the aswang. The aswang wailed in pain and held its leathery hands on its face. Moises stood up and unleashed his fury on the distracted creature. The blows from his bolo rained on the aswang one after the other. The aswang flailed its wings, but the cramped space in the kubo prevented him from escaping, like a fly inside a bottle.

Unrelentingly, Moises slashed and stabbed the creature one after the other. He could smell its sickening stench as blood spurted out of its wounds. Just then when he was about to inflict the fatal blow on the down beaten aswang, he heard his wife shout, “Moises!”

He turned around and what he saw nearly made him drop his bolo. It was another aswang! His wife was trapped in a corner with the aswang about to lunge at her. Moises lashed out a primal scream and thrust himself onto the creature. The two grappled with each other in the dark as the wife huddled in the corner trying to look on. Moises could smell the awful breath of the creature as its grotesque face was inches from his own. Its sharp fangs wet with saliva and snake-like tongue slithering from its awful mouth. From what seem like an eternity, the man and creature fought. Strong the creature was and it threw Moises on his back, quickly overpowering him.

It was now on top of him, the aswang. Like a lion that was able to pin down his prey, the aswang looked down on Moises, as if relishing the oncoming kill. The aswang hissed, and in a deep guttural voice it said, “Ang asawa at anak mo ang susunod.” He glanced at hapless wife and prayed for deliverance. With the last ounce of his strength, Moises bridged his back that threw the aswang out of balance. Scrambling towards the gasera, he then picked it up and cast it against the aswang. The impact caused the gasera to break and its fire spread out the aswang’s body instantaneously. Disoriented and in great pain, the aswang stumbled about in flames. As the hut was only made of nipa and bamboo, it caught fire and soon it was burning inside.

Moises carried his frightened wife outside the hut. From his vantage point he could still see the aswang struggling in the flames. In a matter of minutes, the hut fell down in a burning heap. Moises and his wife stood by, watching, until it was reduced to ashes.

From the east, the sun was starting to rise. It was daybreak.

An Uncle, At Last!

My brother Wowie and his wife Kate just had their first baby on September 3, 2009. And what a bouncing baby boy he is! We were all ecstatic about the coming of the latest addition to our family that we felt that all of us were, in one way or another, parents of the child.

He is to be called Noah Gabriel, a fine name for the child. He came about a year after Papa's passing and have brought renewed joy in our hearts.

Can't wait for him to grow up, this uncle could teach him a little thing or two.:-)

Chi-Chi

My dear sister Chi-chi,

This is my wish for you today... Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, and love to complete your life.

Happy Birthday.

Love,
Kuya Patrick

Baby Gelay

My dear Gerard,

Sigh! Our bunso is all grown-up now. May you find that which will make you happy in life and I bless you with the fullness of God's blessings in all your years. Keep that childlike spark in you and never lose it, as some of us have.

And remember, you're always gonna be our baby. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Kuya Patrick

Everything I Need

Dearest Papa,

I miss you so much. It's hard not to be sad, especially at this time. Nothing will ever be the same without you, Papa. Wherever you are, Happy Father's day. This song is for you, hope you can hear it in heaven.

Love,

Patrick

Everything I Need

Lord I need you to be all the gentleness in me.
I’ve been trying by myself, struggling all alone.
From the very start I knew that I must depend on you.
Here I am, depending on, the rest is up to you.

You’re everything I need for You to be.
You’re everything that shines inside of me.
And I will have the strength to do
All you ask of me.
I will always let you be
Everything I need for you to be.

You are the One who put the stars up in the sky
To brighten the emptiness of space
And You put a light in me today
A dream that will not die away
To brighten every day
And I know that i can say…

You’re everything I need for You to be.
You’re everything that shines inside of me.
And I will have the strength to do
All you ask of me.
I will always let you be
Everything I need for you to be.

The Two Wolves

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson asked him, "Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather answered: "The one I feed."

It really boils down to which "wolf" to choose. However, it is not that easy as it sounds. It's a struggle to embrace what is good when confronted by the vices of this world. But at the end of the day, doing the right thing has its rewards, both within ourselves and those around us.

Aboyskie :-)

My Dear Aboy,

Your calm and collected character reminds me so much of Papa. I pray that you never lose that loving and gentle spirit as you go on through life. Always remember that you are a special part of our family, I can't imagine how it will be at home without you. May you be blessed with peace of mind, success in your endeavors, love in your relationships... and oh yes, more sleep at night!:-)

Happy Birthday my brother.

Love,

Kuya Patrick

Viking Battle Prayer

'Lo, there do I see my father.
'Lo, there do I see my mother,
and my sisters, and my brothers.
'Lo, there do I see the line of my people,
Back to the beginning.
'Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them,

In the halls of Valhalla
Where the brave may live forever.

In the movie, The Thirteenth Warrior, the Viking Lord Buliwyf recited the said prayer along with his other Viking warriors as they face their final battle against the Wendol horde. The movie was based on Michael Crichton's novel, Eaters of the Dead.

Though the movie did not fare well in the box office, still it remains to be one of my favorite for its strong depiction of brotherhood and friendship that transcends borders, language, and even faith.

It evokes in me a sense of kindred purpose, unwavering courage and strength of character---qualities that at times I feel, wanting in my life. And so I made this post to serve as a reminder for me to stay true to the course in my journey to be a better man.

The Way of the Escrimador

The Filipino Martial Tradition

by Pedro Reyes

Arnis is a Military Art, not Civilian

Legend asserts that monks and civilians developed kung fu and karate. There are many variations to those legends. In one, monks hardened their hands so that they could chop wood for fire because they could not carry bladed implements. They extended their discovery to develop external kung fu for self-defense. In Okinawa, civilians also hardened their hands and feet, and use agricultural implements to defend themselves against marauding Japanese soldiers. That is the origin of karate, legend says. And Taoist monks developed internal kung fu to integrate mind and body. How about arnis?

Here, there are no records; there are no legends. But we can make educated inferences. The first clue is the name of the art, arnis de mano. Arnis seems to be a corruption of the Spanish word, arnés, which means mail armor. Mail is flexible armor made of overlapping metal rings, loops of chain, or scales, such as those worn by European knights in the Middle Ages. Arnis de mano thus literally means armor with the hands and alludes to the reputed ability of the arnisador to defend himself with his hands as though he had put on an armor of mail.

Another clue to the military character of arnis is that arnisadores train with weapons before they train with bare hands. Why? No soldier goes to war with empty hands. He fights with weapons first, and uses his bare hands only as a last resort. (In contrast kung fu, karate and judo practitioners betray their civilian origins by starting with empty hands.)

Arnis Adapts to Civilian Weapons

But when the Spaniards occupied the Philippines, they abolished the warrior class. They forbade the Filipinos from carrying their beloved spears, kampilans and blowguns. They banned archery. But….Filipinos could still carry the riding or whipping stick with which to drive their cows, carabaos and horses. They could walk around town with canes or walking sticks even if they were not elderly. Farmers could strap a utility bolo around their waists before stepping out of the house. Any farmer or townsman could conceal a dagger or a knife around his person. And of course, a man or woman, always had his hands and feet.
Arnisadores now concentrated their techniques around those five classes of weapons. They no longer practiced archery, used the spear or employed the blowgun, and they eventually forgot their techniques for those weapons. Of course, the arnisadores would also use other weapons if they were the only ones available, such as the hand scythe, the pestle or the carrying pole. But they retained the military character of arnis. Arnisadores still began their training with weapons and teaching remained “impersonal.”

Arnis is Tribal, not Familial

What do I mean by “impersonal”? The unit of ancient Filipino society is the barangay. A barangay is composed of several families, which were not always related to one another. The number of dedicated warriors in a barangay was probably small. So every able-bodied man had to be able to defend the barangay. Thus arnis masters would teach any able-bodied man in the barangay regardless of the man’s family.
In contrast, ancient Chinese and Japanese masters considered their martial arts as family heirlooms to be used to defend a family or to enhance its prestige. So they confined – or tried to continue – their instruction to members of their clan. For example: Formerly only members of the Ch’en family could learn tai chi chuan until Yang Lu-ch’an broke the monopoly. Only the Takeda family and their retainers could learn aiki-jutsu. At present even the Kano family tries to keep control of judo even though instruction is not confined to the Kano family and is open to anyone.
In those styles, the titles of student, master, grandmaster, great grandmaster, and so on reflect those of the family: son, father, grandfather, great grandfather, etc. The master becomes a second father who can interfere in the most intimate details of life of the student to an extent unknown to the arnisador.

Each Arnis Master is Sui Generis

Kung fu students avidly seek genealogical charts of their styles because that is how they establish their legitimacy. But classical arnisadores pay only scant attention to charts like this. For the classical arnis master stands on his own abilities. He is not a master because he has received a certificate from a school, or because he has been appointed successor by a grandmaster. He is sui generis.
Arnisadores prefer teachers who shine by their own light, like the sun, rather than planets that shine by the reflected light of their school or teacher. That is why arnisadores like Jose Caballero, Remy Presas and Edgar Sulite claim to have created their own styles, rather than to have inherited them.
When a student first approaches a traditional master, the master may say, “Yes, I’ll teach you the little that I know.” He would then demonstrate his abilities and if the student likes it, he would stay for more instruction. What the classical master will not say is, “Yes, I will teach you because I’m the 10th degree master of Rabid Dog Arnis” or “The grandmaster of Howling Devil Arnis appointed me as his successor.” Such boasts are the product of a later, crasser, more commercial age.

A Student Becomes a Master

But in that case, when does an arnis student become a master? Does he promote himself? Strange as it may seem to a Chinese or to a Japanese stylist, the answer in traditional arnis is, yes. The traditional arnisador begins to teach when he feels he is ready to each, not when his master tells him so. For the traditional master will never give him a teaching certificate, much less appoint him as his successor, no matter how able the student is.
That for a simple reason. Once an arnisador starts to teach, he is open to life-and-death challenges. A master who gives teaching certificate to his student, or appoints him as his successor, effectively signs the death warrant for that student. No master likes that responsibility.
(A minor factor that may inhibit the master would be his loss of prestige should the student fail a challenge.)
Suppose the student wants to teach but the master thinks he is not yet ready? The dynamics of Philippine society decides what the master would do. He is likely to remain silent, although in rare cases he might tell the student not to teach. He might also express his doubts to a few intimate friends, but those friends are not likely to pass these on to the student. Thus the new master would go on teaching blissfully unaware of the misgivings of his teacher. There are arnisadores who have become famous masters without taking lessons. Pedro Walis of Iloilo was one: he claimed to have learned arnis simply by watching other masters’ practice and teach.

Arnis Tradition is Open

Certificates of proficiency, appointments of representatives of a style, selection of successors are contemporary phenomena, products of masters who wish to commercialize their skills. Many of those masters have studied Japanese styles and they pattern their ranking after the Japanese; some even call their instructors, dans. For few contemporary students are willing to pay tuition, or put up money for a seminar, without a visible token in return, be it a certificate of attendance, a grade diploma to be hung on the wall, or even just a membership card. Contemporary masters can provide those tokens with a free conscience because life-and-death challenges are illegal and rare now.
Is this the end of the classical tradition and the start of a new one? Perhaps. For unlike the Chinese or the Japanese, arnis tradition is open. Arnis masters are not afraid to change. This is due to the military origin or arnis. In war, one utilizes even alien techniques if they are effective.
The first radical change in the nature of arnis occurred when the Spaniards abolished the warrior class and prohibited the use of their weapons. The arnis masters reacted by concentrating their techniques on the weapons now legally available to civilians. These are the riding stick, the walking cane, the utility bolo and the hand knife.
At the same time, a branch of arnis that so many aspire to learn but only a handful can master became Christianized. I refer to esoteric arnis, which deals with healing and the use of the oracion. The arnisadores now directed their attention to the Christian pantheon. Curiously, the arnisador sometimes found himself using the names of the old gods to address the gods of the Christians without losing the effectiveness of his oracion.
In many cases, the changes were not too traumatic. For example, the arnisdores simply moved the great days of initiation into the oraciones of the Moon Goddess to the days of Lent and to All Souls Day. As for the celebration of the Earth God – Christmas became one of them, leaving only the summer initiations without Christian equivalents. Incidentally, arnisadores prefer to offer themselves to the Goddess. A traditional practice, for example, is to drill during the nights of the moon to seek the favor, protection and strength of the Great Mother.
Next, the Spanish friars introduced the komedya and asked the arnisadores to choreograph the mock battles. Arnis masters responded by creating anew style, or branch of arnis, exhibition or theatrical arnis. Present day masters who coach cinematic actors are heirs to this branch.
The third change occurred when promoters introduced sports tournaments. Sport arnis has developed from competition without protection to one where the competitors protect themselves with armor. The rules for this new branch of arnis are still evolving, but already arnisadores have created techniques specially tuned to sports.
The fourth change is the one we have been discussing: the awards of certificates of proficiency by commercial gymnasia. This is no longer classical arnis. Commercial arnis? To some, that sounds derogatory, but need not be. Competition for students can improve quality, although it could also propel arnis the wrong way among unscrupulous masters hungry for money.
Some masters are caught in the transition to this “new tradition”. Grandmaster Antonio Ilustrisimo believed that certificates were worthless, so that he did not rank his intimate disciples. Nevertheless he cynically issued certificates when he needed money; or to silence disciples who pestered him for them.
And the future? I would like to see arnis maestros with intelligence and guts enough to integrate modern gun fighting into arnis. Some arnisadores would like to re-introduce archery, spear throwing and blowguns, but I consider that a backward step. People do not fight with bows and arrows, shields and spears, and blowguns anymore. They fight with guns.

A Different Enlightenment

If you were to challenge me to write in a few words the essence of arnis, what would I say? Arnis is the search for one’s unique self. Who am I?

If you are an arnisador, you begin by imitating your teacher. Then you find that the only way you can master the techniques is to make them your own, adapting them to your own build, temperament and reflexes. Now go back and forth between those two states, the conditioned and the unconditioned consciousness, until you realize that your self has always been and is always free. Then shout in exultant freedom.

The martial artist who is a Buddhist awakens the non-attached heart; the Taoist, the harmonious heart. The arnisador enjoys the free, creative, unconditioned heart.

Copyright © Rapid Journal 1999

In the company of the Masters

Tondaligan Beach, Dagupan, Pangasinan 2 May 2009.

For Mama

Happy Mother's Day!:-)

To my brother Didoy, Happy Birthday.

When you were still small, I have always thought of you as makulit and hardheaded. Little did I know that you were just trying very hard to win my attention and just be with me, your Kuya.

To be just like Kuya Patrick, you once said. I have never told you this before but I see myself in you, Didoy.

Watching you grow up to be the man you are now, makes me very happy. Hold fast to your passion in helping other people and play beautiful music for the Lord. You have the gift, my brother. Continue to touch the hearts of those around you the way you have touched our family.

And in God's time, I know that you will see yourself to be a great doctor. All of us, especially Papa, could never be more proud.

Happy Birthday Didoy.

Love,

Kuya

That Old Love Song

It's a cold and rainy evening tonight.

The howling winds outside hearken a coming storm. In my room tucked under a soft blanket, I was catching up with my leisure reading when the sound of the neighbor's radio turned up. A familiar tune wafted in the air. A love song whose lyrics I couldn't put my finger on at that moment.

Suddenly, I found myself indulging in sweet reminisce as the verses called out to the tender yearnings of my heart. And as if by perfect design or coincidence, the song spoke out the emotions that I have been holding on for so long---and forever will keep.

Here I Am

by Air Supply

Here I am playing with those memories again
And just when I thought time had set me free
Those thoughts of you keep taunting me

Holding you, a feeling I never outgrew

Though each and every part of me has tried

Only you can fill that space inside
So there's no sense pretending
My heart its not mending

(chorus)
Just when I thought I was over you
And just when I thought I could stand on my own
Oh baby those memories come crashing through
And I just can't go on without you

On my own I've tried to make the best of it alone
I've done everything I can to ease the pain
But only you can stop the rain

I just cant live without you
I miss everything about you

(chorus)
Just when I thought I was over you
And just when I thought I could stand on my own
Oh baby those memories come crashing through
And I just can't go on without

Go on without
Its just no good without you

Sounds cheesy? Nah. This one's a spot on.:-)

Summer Rain

I just love it when it rains.

It came early this year, on a quiet summer evening. Sitting on my window sill, the pitter-pattering sound of raindrops on the roof breaks the silence and monotony of the night. I welcome the rain with childlike anticipation, a welcome respite from the heat and grime that pervades the metropolis--and one's heart.

The rain comes to me as a time of refreshing.

From the toils of a hard day's work, to the uncertainty of waiting for a love lost. In the stillness of the night, it made me think about a lot of things. About memories and the present, of reality and flights of fancy. One could never stay forever in a world of make-believe; even if it is where you feel alive most. But the inspiriting thought is that you know you can always go back. Just as the rain fall in after what it seem to be an interminable dry spell.

That is how the rain makes me feel. It breathes life into my dreary heart, giving that hope to carry on loving and a renewed spirit to face life's uncertain expectations.

Raindrops on the roof
Scent of wet earth
The silent chill of solitude
Moments of eternal bliss.

Happy Birthday, little one.

Your Tito Patrick didn't forget, palangga.

Baby Boy Lubaton

Two days ago my brother Wowie and his wife Kate announced to the family that they'll be having a baby boy.

A baby boy!

As expected, everybody was ecstatic upon hearing the news. On my part, I would have brought out that box of cigars I'm keeping for special occasions such as this one, but I think I'll just save it for his birthday. He he!

My brother and his wife is probably coming up with a name for their boy. I've always thought that it's important to give a good name to a child. I'm sure the couple will find a strong and suitable one for my nephew. In the meantime, he will be our Baby Boy Lubaton, a God-send and my family's source of joy and delight.

Papa, wherever you may be, I know that you must be very proud of your grandson. Rest assured that we will raise him well, the way that you and Mama did for us.

Rock On.

Some of us had dreamed of being rock stars once upon a time.

I did.

Though that fantasy fleeted away as time went by, I admit still doing air guitars and drum solos on whatever surface whenever I hear my favorite rock songs... Okay, okay, so I sing along too, once in a while!:-)











Gotta love it.:-)

Something to ponder on.

I came across this essay in one of the forums I used to frequent. Made me realize that "the one" is truly worth the wait. But until then, we must learn to live each day to the fullest, preparing to be the best we can be and believing that someday soon, we will find our one true love.


PARTNERS AND MARRIAGE
By Eduardo Jose E. Calasanz

I have never met a man who didn't want to be loved. But I have seldom met a man who didn't fear marriage. Something about the closure seems constricting, not enabling. Marriage seems easier to understand for what it cuts out of our lives than for what it makes possible within our lives.

When I was younger this fear immobilized me. I did not want to make a mistake. I saw my friends get married for reasons of social acceptability, or sexual fever, or just because they thought it was the logical thing to do. Then I watched, as they and their partners became embittered and petty in their dealings with each other. I looked at older couples and saw, at best, mutual toleration of each other. I imagined a lifetime of loveless nights and bickering and could not imagine subjecting myself or someone else to such a fate.

And yet, on rare occasions, I would see old couples who somehow seemed to glow in each other's presence. They seemed really in love, not just dependent upon each other and tolerant of each other's foibles. It was an astounding sight, and it seemed impossible.

How, I asked myself, can they have survived so many years of sameness, so much irritation at the other's habits? What keeps love alive in them, when most of us seem unable to even stay together, much less love each other?

The central secret seems to be in choosing well. There is something to the claim of fundamental compatibility. Good people can create a bad relationship, even though they both dearly want the relationship to succeed. It is important to find someone with whom you can create a good relationship from the outset. Unfortunately, it is hard to see clearly in the early stages.

Sexual hunger draws you to each other and colors the way you see yourselves together. It blinds you to the thousands of little things by which relationships eventually survive or fail. You need to find a way to see beyond this initial overwhelming sexual fascination. Some people choose to involve themselves sexually and ride out the most heated period of sexual attraction in order to see what is on the other side. This can work, but it can also leave a trail of wounded hearts. Others deny the sexual side altogether in an attempt to get to know each other apart from their sexuality. But they cannot see clearly, because the presence of unfulfilled sexual desire looms so large that it keeps them from having any normal perception of what life would be like together.

The truly lucky people are the ones who manage to become long- time friends before they realize they are attracted to each other. They get to know each other's laughs, passions, sadness, and fears. They see each other at their worst and at their best. They share time together before they get swept into the entangling intimacy of their sexuality.

This is the ideal, but not often possible. If you fall under the spell of your sexual attraction immediately, you need to look beyond it for other keys to compatibility.

One of these is laughter. Laughter tells you how much you will enjoy each other's company over the long term. If your laughter together is good and healthy, and not at the expense of others, then you have a healthy relationship to the world. Laughter is the child of surprise. If you can make each other laugh, you can always surprise each other. And if you can always surprise each other, you can always keep the world around you new. Beware of a relationship in which there is no laughter. Even the most intimate relationships based only on seriousness have a tendency to turn sour. Over time, sharing a common serious viewpoint on the world tends to turn you against those who do not share the same viewpoint, and your relationship can become based on being critical together.

After laughter, look for a partner who deals with the world in a way you respect. When two people first get together, they tend to see their relationship as existing only in the space between the two of them. They find each other endlessly fascinating, and the overwhelming power of the emotions they are sharing obscures the outside world. As the relationship ages and grows, the outside world becomes important again. If your partner treats people or circumstances in a way you can't accept, you will inevitably come to grief. Look at the way she cares for others and deals with the daily affairs of life. If that makes you love her more, your love will grow. If it does not, be careful. If you do not respect the way you each deal with the world around you, eventually the two of you will not respect each other.

Look also at how your partner confronts the mysteries of life. We live on the cusp of poetry and practicality, and the real life of the heart resides in the poetic. If one of you is deeply affected by the mystery of the unseen in life and relationships, while the other is drawn only to the literal and the practical, you must take care that the distance doesn't become an unbridgeable gap that leaves you each feeling isolated and misunderstood.

There are many other keys, but you must find them by yourself. We all have unchangeable parts of our hearts that we will not betray and private commitments to a vision of life that we will not deny. If you fall in love with someone who cannot nourish those inviolable parts of you, or if you cannot nourish them in her, you will find yourselves growing further apart until you live in separate worlds where you share the business of life, but never touch each other where the heart lives and dreams. From there it is only a small leap to the cataloging of petty hurts and daily failures that leaves so many couples bitter and unsatisfied with their mates.

So choose carefully and well. If you do, you will have chosen a partner with whom you can grow, and then the real miracle of marriage can take place in your hearts. I pick my words carefully when I speak of a miracle. But I think it is not too strong a word. There is a miracle in marriage. It is called transformation. Transformation is one of the most common events of nature. The seed becomes the flower. The cocoon becomes the butterfly. Winter becomes spring and love becomes a child. We never question these, because we see them around us every day. To us they are not miracles, though if we did not know them they would be impossible to believe. Marriage is a transformation we choose to make.

Our love is planted like a seed, and in time it begins to flower. We cannot know the flower that will blossom, but we can be sure that a bloom will come. If you have chosen carefully and wisely, the bloom will be good. If you have chosen poorly or for the wrong reason, the bloom will be flawed. We are quite willing to accept the reality of negative transformation in a marriage. It was negative transformation that always had me terrified of the bitter marriages that I feared when I was younger.

It never occurred to me to question the dark miracle that transformed love into harshness and bitterness. Yet I was unable to accept the possibility that the first heat of love could be transformed into something positive that was actually deeper and more meaningful than the heat of fresh passion. All I could believe in was the power of this passion and the fear that when it cooled I would be left with something lesser and bitter. But there is positive transformation as well. Like negative transformation, it results from a slow accretion of little things. But instead of death by a thousand blows, it is growth by a thousand touches of love. Two histories intermingle. Two separate beings, two separate presence, two separate consciousnesses come together and share a view of life that passes before them. They remain separate, but they also become one.

There is an expansion of awareness, not a closure and a constriction, as I had once feared. This is not to say that there is not tension and there are not traps. Tension and traps are part of every choice of life, from celibate to monogamous to having multiple lovers. Each choice contains within it the lingering doubt that the road not taken somehow more fruitful and exciting, and each becomes dulled to the richness that it alone contains.

But only marriage allows life to deepen and expand and be leavened by the knowledge that two have chosen, against all odds, to become one. Those who live together without marriage can know the pleasure of shared company, but there is a specific gravity in the marriage commitment that deepens that experience into something richer and more complex. So do not fear marriage, just as you should not rush into it for the wrong reasons. It is an act of faith and it contains within it the power of transformation.

If you believe in your heart that you have found someone with whom you are able to grow, if you have sufficient faith that you can resist the endless attraction of the road not taken and the partner not chosen, if you have the strength of heart to embrace the cycles and seasons that your love will experience, then you may be ready to seek the miracle that marriage offers. If not, then wait. The easy grace of a marriage well made is worth your patience. When the time comes, a thousand flowers will bloom... endlessly.