Taming This Tyke's Voice Since 2007

Plant

Underneath Your Sheltering Canopy

~  

Under your sheltering canopy  

In the safety of your embrace  

Beneath your reassuring grip  

Certainty returns.  

Like the shadow of the clouds  

Passing by on a midday.  

Such fleeting moments  

Of alternating shadow and light:  

Long absence,  

Brief presence,  

And the silent anticipations in between  

Fuel hope, keep the heart pounding  

To reach another waiting shade  

Along the way  

To rest  

Underneath your sheltering canopy.  

"Ethan" is my Bonsai tree I planted when I was 13, he is now 24 years old.

"Portrait of Ethan" Pencil, ink and pen on paper by Jeques B. Jamora, 2010 ("Ethan" is my Bonsai tree I planted when I was 13, he is now 24 years old).

His Name Is Ethan

 His name is Ethan Yes, I gave him a name and his name is Ethan. 

I was called once to priesthood when I was in highschool, but I was expelled from the seminary after a year. Many are called, they said, but only a few are chosen; I was not. It was my first taste of rejection, and it was how my story with Ethan started. 

 His name is ethan I mentioned the seminary because I planted Ethan the summer after I was kicked out. I was 13 years old with wings broken. Nobody really cared to listen to my side of the story especially my father. My mother, as always, was there to console me ~ in silence. I was left alone in the corner to leak my own wound to heal. At that lowest point of my life, for a reason that I’m just beginning to understand now, God sent me Ethan to care. I always had some loner tendencies as a kid. That summer and years after that I became withdrawn, misunderstood. Gone was the child full of life, I fell down so low I never thought I could ever rise again. 

For more about “Ethan,” please click image below >>>

 

His name is Ethan

Hi name is Ethan, 24.

   

   

 

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His Name Is Ethan

His name is Ethan

His name is Ethan

 Yes, I gave him a name and his name is Ethan.

I was called once to priesthood when I was in highschool, but I was expelled from the seminary after a year. Many are called, they said, but only a few are chosen; I was not. It was my first taste of rejection, and it was how my story with Ethan started.

 

His name is ethanI would like to tell you about my first bonsai tree, Ethan. I mentioned the seminary because I planted Ethan the summer after I was kicked out. I was 13 years old with wings broken. Nobody really cared to listen to my side of the story especially my father. My mother, as always, was there to console me ~ in silence. I was left alone in the corner to leak my own wound to heal. At that lowest point of my life, for a reason that I’m just beginning to understand now, God sent me Ethan to care. I always had some loner tendencies as a kid. That His name is Ethansummer and years after that I became withdrawn, misunderstood. Gone was the child full of life, I fell down so low I never thought I could ever rise again.

I found Ethan still a seedling just starting to grow wild under the coconut tree in our backyard. He is a rare specie from the Balete(Rubber tree) family often found only in the forests. He must be a seed from those trees brought here by birds’ droppings. My natural liking for plants His name is Ethaninstantly draw me to his 5 verdant leaves. I replanted him and his first home was an empty tin can of milk.

Quietly, I spent my summer wondering where to go, reaching the end of my road, while I watch Ethan grow new leaves. To him, I was a broken guardian; and him a soothing green that healed my broken soul.

~

What now with my broken wings?

I wonder now if I could fly again.

Will the winds of time save me from falling?

Tell me, where will I go from here?

~

What now with my wounded spirit?

I wonder now if I could rise from here.

Is there a pill that can mend this pain,

Would I ever have the courage to fight again?

~

His name is EthanMy highschool years was a mess. I lost interest in everything. Like a seedling uprooted, I drifted with the uncertain currents of my young life. I slept my way through highschool, I was in section F of our batch,  a picture of defeat at 15. Looking back now, I feel I only did one thing right those years ~ I planted Ethan. 

God always have his way to pull our strings and bring us back to shores when we lost our ways His name is Ethanin the ocean. He did and he put me in a nursing school. The least I thought I would become for a profession, but the course served me double purpose: I got a degree while I nursed my heart’s scars through college. Ethan grew into a maniature tree with dense leaves and 2 main branches by now. We practically grew up together. I trimmed his roots and leaves year after year, trained his trunk to lean to the direction it would look best, molding him into a lovely tree in a pot that he had become. While I became a nurse.

His name is EthanIt was sad to leave him home when it was time for me to go to find my place in the real world after college. But I had to do what I needed to do. And for the first time he was out of my life. I have risen and had moved on from my previous defeat. I never saw him for 5 long years. When I went home, we already moved to a new house in the city and then I remembered Ethan.

It was a sad reunion for us. He lost his beautiful form the last time I saw him. My mother cut His name is Ethanone of his main branches the previous year not knowing what to do with his uncontrolled growth. He was like an old friend with over grown mustache and beard unrecognizable when I saw him during my home-coming. He has a scar in the heart of his trunk from the branch that was cut off. I bleed inside seeing this friend who was once there for me  to soothe my pain with his green silence.

His name is Ethan I started trimming, grooming, molding him again making the best out of the one branch that was left. His cecatrix added beauty to his new form. 3 years after he surprised me with abundant fruits in his branches to show me that he is a full grown tree now. He inspired me to grow more bonsai trees and he became a big brother to all of them. I was home for 8 years spending every day moments with him sitted in that quiet side of our garden with the pond under.

His name is EthanWhen I moved to Chicago in 2006, he’s one thing in my life back home that’s hard to let go. He is part of our conversations over the phone whenever I call home. I made sure my nephews and nieces are taking care of him. I left him to their care for I know it is time for him to touch their young life like he did to me.

During my home-coming, I always have a blast reunioniting with family. But in my His name is Ethansolitude, I have a silent reunion with Ethan. I spend quiet moments in the garden with him  towering over me when I’m sitted ~ God, how he has grown sturdy like a seasoned tree. I  took shelter in his canopy of green leaves, I felt the cool breeze of his breath in the wind ~ he has grown to become the guardian of my once broken soul. 

It is when the seed is almost destroyed that it is about to grow. I understand that better now with Ethan. I went through the lowest point in my life and manage to rise like a seed. Yes, our cicatrix add beauty to our forms.

Ethan and I ~ time healed our wounds and left us marks adding beauty to our forms ~ we stand firm and sturdy.


“1sts” (#3 Plant)

Some live to hunt; I came to life to plant.”

~

The first living thing I planted is a stem cutting from a “Camote”(sweet potato). My mother uses the shoot tips for her fish stew. I observe her while she’s preparing the food, when my child-like curiosity made me ask her how the vegetable is grown?

“The cuttings,” she replied.

What happened next, she picked and handed me one cutting from the waste box and there I was, 3 years old, planting my first farm of potato in a pot. I would visit my new potted friend each morning patiently waiting for any sign of life from the stem partly covered with earth. I can still recall my surprise one morning finding some changes during my regular check. It was magical to my young eyes seeing tiny greens sprouting from a seem lifeless piece of stem. The sprig grew long with the passing of day, as new leaves replaced the pared parts my mother used for her stew.

The progress are exciting source of story I told my sibling everytime they arrive from school. I have learned from them later on that the  steamed“camote” (sweet potato) we ate for snacks are “over-grown” roots of the plant. My curiousity of the leaves waned as I become more interested with the roots, observing the soil closely, digging its roots to check for any growth thinking of the sweetest potato produce from my potted farm.

My childhood curiosity killed my first plant – that same curiosity that once breath life to it. I woke up one morning finding my wilted plant, and no amount of water can bring it back to life – or perhaps I over watered it – and for the first time, I grieved for the first living thing I lost.

“You have touched its roots prematurely,” my mother told me. I know better about plants since then..

This is where my love for plants started. The garden brings back beautiful childhood memories. The passion remains in me to these days, the roots has grown deep in me. I have to mention that at thirteen, I planted my first bonsai tree, I gave it a name: Ethan. I am 35 now, which makes Ethan my 22-year old potted friend. My story with Ethan is still on going. It is crazy, but I miss my plants back home.

~

Shepherds Of Life (Senryu)

Hunters live to take

While planters exist to give

They’re shepherds of life.

~Ethan, my 22-year-old bonsai

Ethan, my 22-year-old bonsai. I’ll write about him next time.

 


Be The Best That You Could Be

tree
~
If you are a tree
Be the best tree that you could be
Allow the hands of time
To mold your body
Be a sturdy seasoned tree
That you could be.

 

 If you’re not a tree

But a shrub only,

Be the best shrub that flourish

Your sight people will cherish.

 

herb

If you’re not a shrub

But a herb only,

Be the best herb that heals

So people may live.

weeds

If you’re not a herb

But a weed only,

Be the best grass that’s green.

To console the people in pain.

The Best

And If fate would not make you any,

Then be just the soil maybe.

A fertile soil where seeds

Of herbs and weeds

And shrubs and trees would grow.

              .

 Somehow, you would live in them;

You will bring them life ~

Becoming the best that you could be.

~

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michaelangelo painted or Beethoven posed music or shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here live a great street sweeper who did his job so well. ~ Martin Luther King

~

And when I die strew my dust-remains in the earth so trees may grow.

This week, the http://writersisland.wordpress.com prompts us to write about Persistence. I think this is how it should be.


The Seed’s Wishes

~

I wish I’d grow up a lovely tree,

You would sit under my cool shade

To rest your weary body.

  

I wish I’d grow up a healthy tree,

Bear fruits and nourish you

I’d give myself entirely.

 

 I wish I’d grow up a sturdy tree,

People would build houses from my branches.

Your refuge, I would be glad to be.

 

 I wish I’d grow up a seasoned tree,

Bridges and light posts will rise from me.

I’d be along the road to light your way.

 

I wish I’d grow up a fine tree,

Pages would be made from my fibers ~

Books, letters, notes, songs , poetry.

 

 I am a seed for the moment,

Wishes, and dreaming of a full life

The morning will change me.

  

I wish I’d grow up a parent tree.

Thousands of seeds would spring from me.

Seeds metamorphose to homes of love.

 

 

I will be your shelter, eternally.

~

 


“1sts” (6. Bonsai)

~

I was called once to priesthood when I was in highschool, but I was expelled from the seminary after a year. Many were called, they said, but only a few were chosen; I was not. It is my first taste of rejection, I will not write about that now, but soon I will.

I would like to tell you about my first bonsai tree instead, and it has a name, I called him, “Ethan.” I mentioned the seminary because I planted Ethan the summer after I was kicked out. I was 13 years old with wings broken. Nobody really cared to listen to my side of the story especially my father. My mother, as always, was there to console me ~ in silence. I was left alone in the corner to leak my own wound to heal. At that lowest point of my life, for a reason that I’m just beginning to understand now, God sent me Ethan to care. I always had some loner tendencies as a kid. That summer and years after that I became withdrawn, misunderstood. Gone was the child full of life, I fell down so low I never thought I could ever rise from there.

I found Ethan still a seedling just starting to grow wild under the coconut tree in our backyard. He is a rare specie from the Balete(Rubber tree) family often found only in the forests. He must be a seed from those trees brought here by birds’ droppins. My natural liking for plants instantly draw me to his 5 verdant leaves. I replanted him and his first home was an empty tin can of milk. Quietly, I spent my summer wondering where to go reaching the end of my road while I watch Ethan grow new leaves.

~

What now with my broken wings?

I wonder now if I could fly again.

Will the winds of time save me from falling?

Tell me, where will I go from here?

~

What now with my wounded spirits?

I wonder now if I can rise from here.

Is there a pill that can mend the pain,

Will I ever have the courage to fight again?

~

My highschool years was a mess. I lost interest in everything. Like a seedling uprooted, I drifted with the uncertain currents of my young life. I slept my way through highschool, I was at section F of our batch,  a picture of defeat at 15. Looking back now, I feel I only did one thing right those years ~ I planted Ethan. 

God always have his way to pull our strings and bring us back to shores when we lost our ways in the ocean. He did and he put me in a nursing school. The least I thought I would become for a profession, but the course served me double purpose: I got a degree while I nurse my scars through college. Ethan grew into a maniature tree with dense leaves and 2 main branches by now. We practically grow up together. I trimmed his roots and leaves year after year, trained his trunk to lean to the direction it would look best, molding him into a lovely tree in a pot that he had become. While I became a nurse.

It was sad to leave him home when it was time for me to go to find my place in the adult world after college. But I have to do what I need to do. And for the first time he was out of my life. I have risen and had moved on from my previous defeat. I never saw him for 5 long years, when I went home we already moved to a new house in the city and then I remember Ethan.

It was a sad reunion for us. He lost his beautiful form the last time I saw him. My mother cut one of his main branch the previous year not knowing what to do with his uncontrolled growth. He was like an old friend with over grown mustache and beard unrecognizsble when I first saw him. He has a scar in the heart of his trunk from the branch that was cut off. I bleed inside seeing this friend who was once there for me soothing my pain with his green silence.

I started trimming, grooming, molding him again making the best out of the one branch that was left. His cecatrix added beauty to his new form. 3 years after he surprised me with abundant fruits in his branches to show me that he is a full grown tree now. He inspired me to grow more bonsai trees and he became a big brother to all of them. I was home for 8 years spending everyday moments with him sitted in that quiet side of our garden with the pond under.

It’s been a year now since I bade Philippines goodbye and gave Ethan my last glance when I moved here to Chicago last year. If only I could bring him here. I left him to the care of my 2 nieces for I know it is his purpose to touch life like he did to me.

It is when the seed is almost destroyed that it is about to grow. I understand that better now with Ethan. I went through the lowest point in my life and manage to rise like a seed. Yes, our cicatrix add beauty to our forms.

~

 

 

 


“1sts”(3. Plant)

“Some live to hunt; I came to life to plant.”

~

The first living thing I planted is a stem cutting from a “Camote”(sweet potato). My mother uses the shoot tips for her fish stew. I observe her while she’s preparing the food, when my child-like curiousity made me ask her how the vegetable is grown. “The cuttings,” she replied. What happens next is she picked and handed me one cutting from the waste box and there I was, 3 years old, planting my first farm of potato in a pot. I would visit my new potted friend each morning patiently waiting for any sign of life from the stem partly covered with earth. I can still recall my surprise one morning finding some changes during my regular check. It was magical to my young eyes seeing tiny greens sprouting from a seem lifeless piece of stem. The sprig grew long with the passing of day, as new leaves replaced the pared parts my mother used for her stew.

The progress are exciting source of story I told my sibling everytime they arrive from school. I have learned from them later on that the “camote” we ate for snacks are “over-grown” roots of the plant. My curiousity of the leaves waned as I become more interested with the roots, observing the soil closely, digging its roots to check for any growth thinking of the sweetest potato produce from my potted farm.

My childhood curiousity killed my first plant – that same curiousity that once breath life to it. I woke up one morning finding my wilted plant, and no amount of water can bring it back to life – or perhaps I over watered it – and for the first time, I grieved for the first living thing I lost. I have touched its roots prematurely, my mother told me. I know better about plants after that.

This is where my love for plants started. The garden brings back beautiful childhood memories. The passion remains in me to these days. The roots has grown deep in me. I have to mention that at thirteen, I planted my first bonsai tree, I gave it a name: Ethan. I am 35 now, which makes Ethan my 22-year old potted friend. My story with Ethan is still on going. It is crazy, but I miss my plants back home.

~

Shepherds Of Life (Senryu)

Hunters live to take

While planters exist to give

They’re shepherds of life.

~

Next time, I will tell you about my first bestfriend. ~ Jeques