Melancholic August

The eight month of the Gregorian calendar, August, was Sextillus or Sextilis in ancient Rome. By 8 BC it was renamed in honor of Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus whose powerful rule can be viewed propitious to Rome and her allies, but woeful to the vanquished like Alexandria which fell in this month. Beyond antiquity, many people regard August as just any other month with commonplace nuances, pleasant or unpleasant, or both. Personally, the eight month still fills me with foreboding.

Let me share a few aids that created my ominosus for August. While growing up and August nears, my parents usual admonition is to brace for the driest store period of the year. That meant weeks without week-end movies or coca-cola during school recess or new superhero comics, more vegetables in home chow, more recycling of old newspapers into "b&w" bags (as in brown bags), and stricter behavior of “waste not” rules on food to electricity and water. At this early time in my life too there were two episodes on mother which were retold many times later by kith and kin. That one hot afternoon while my ma and sister tend to the store and the sun drying of palay laid out on mats at the patio across the street, they saw a hen pecking the grains. Mama left her post and crossed the street. As she was shooing the poultry away, both hen and mama got hit by a truck. And a few years later on an august night, mama fearlessly fought one of the five armed robbers who stormed the grocery store. My adult encounters started tearfully on August 21 of 1983 when hubby and me heard the radio news about the late senator Benigno Aquino’s assassination. A year after, I discovered on an August afternoon that all photos of my youth and pages of favored books have simply been food to Marikina termites. Then on August 1st of 1997, back in the Bikol region, fire reduced to ashes half of Magsaysay house which includes my MA thesis file and lots of wonderful objects. More recent, mama peacefully passed away on August of 2006. By the end of those dog days of August of that same year, my youngest daughter and me immigrated to North America. And in 2007, I got the final diagnosis of cancer. It's not the "settle your affairs" sort of cancer, but the "treatment is going to change you forever" kind that is like an echoing voice announcing my mortality. Sure, it's coincidence that blue events fell on Augustus. Yet my mind brews premonition whenever I’m aware of the eight month.

I fought thoughts or feelings of bad omen by end-running, whereupon only a cycle of defeat-resist followed. Yes, stupid phase. Then about three years ago, I put to good use what I know decades back—“surrender“. Relearning the route to “surrender” and unlearning non-attachment proved to be difficult at this age. But I didn’t give in to impatience and wanderings. And I was kinder to my self. Before long, I loosened up, allowing whatever thought or emotion at that moment to pervade my being or self or mind. I started to spend time at ease. With slow quietness I noticed my self “within” or “a part of”, and at the same time, "observing" decelerating thoughts and emotions. Though my hypo-hyperthyroid condition and medications limit me, I can say, my awareness is getting keener these days. I am still on the journey. However, the hovering dark clouds have, one by one, drifted away and disappeared.

Indeed doggy days have assets too like imbibed thrift, industry, tolerance, compassion, generosity, and flexibility as well as appreciation for simple life, good health, friendship or healthy relationships, diversity, sensibleness, and pragmatism. Add optimism—for months of plenty ensues August such as the Penafrancia fiesta, All Souls’ Day, Heroes day, Halloween, to the Christmas season. Or after a storm, sunny days follow. August shows that certain people and natural calamities can deprive you of money or things and even hurt you, but never can those steal your courage and compassion. Although money was lost and mama suffered bruises, she and pa pardoned the robbers (who were caught two years after the hit). Mama survived eyes surgery and broken ribs due to the truck accident and she waived the legal case against the snoozy driver who has nine children. Mother lived well until age 97. We saw the positive karmic effects of the death of ex-senator Benigno Aquino -- 1986 People power and the moral leadership of ex-president Corazon Aquino (wife of Benigno) that paved the road back to Philippine democracy. All those stories are, seen with today's sight, reminders of impermanence and interdependence of all that exist so that struggle and renewal make up human life.

Today I’m with my family in North America. The family is coping well in spite of the economic recession and state job furloughs. I’m a cancer survivor. I plan to continue life in the Philippines sometime in the near future. I continue to engage myself with my own mindfulness practice. Yes, I am happy. Yes, August remains to infuse me with foreboding. However, only for a moment, and only if I let it.

ADDENDUM
As I was writing this on the 1st of August 2009, the Filipino tube announced that the first lady president of the Philippines, Corazon C. Aquino had just died. (She had colon cancer.)The late president Corazon C. Aquino is considered as the mother of Philippine democracy for her key role in uniting the Filipinos in1986 that ousted from power former president Ferdinand Marcos. To the Aquino family, my condolences. Salamat, tita Cory! (Thank you, tita Cory!)