that which was found posted by imani , Friday, February 24, 2012 at 11:54 PM, in Labels: something else

the last couple of months, i have been dividing my 'extra' waking hours between writing, work and the promise that i will go back to my first love - reading. it was through reading, i suppose, that i was able to discover my knack for writing and speech.

despite the several sudden changes in my line of work, i vowed to keep my mind preoccupied - and have been delving in stories of adventure, fantasy and the living, breathing pain that is the human condition through the last 3 books that i have read.

yesterday, i was able to finally finish dan brown's most recent work. and i was actually two years behind - as robert langdon's third adventure was first unveiled in 2009.

this time, the lost symbol takes us through langdon's journey in decrypting codes and secrets of the exclusive brotherhood of masons. all came spiraling when the protagonist was invited for a lecture in the u.s. capitol only to find his friend peter solomon's severed hand in the rotunda. peter solomon also was the worshipful master, having been initiated to the highest of masonic degrees - the thirty third.

in typical dan brown fashion - he leads us to a maze of signs and symbols, allowing langdon to decipher each item he stumbles upon, only to find out that the answer leads to another conundrum.

robert langdon's adventures has spanned almost a decade, with angels and demons first hitting the shelves in the year 2000, followed by the da vinci code back in 2003. the mythology and facts mentioned on each of the books were just too many to remember, unless you are a symbologist with an eidetic memory.

but what i liked about this particular protagonist, or the way his character evolved, is that he makes a manifold of empyrean and mundane things seem easy to relate to. i do know that all of dan brown's novels have sparked criticisms - their film adaptation even more.

it is true that he is not umberto eco - an author who actually studied and teaches semiotics (that being the study of symbols), however, he is able to mix the idea (or truth) of religion, science and history in a grandiose narrative - all of which transpires within twenty-four hours (or less). i suddenly remembered that such an approach to a story is comparable to jostein gaarder's 'sophie's choice,' which tours the reader through philosophy and its origins.

but the real adventure his thrillers give its readers is the priceless trip one could make through time and space - one day langdon was in paris, then there was italy, and then in this case, the political seat of the united states.

the funny thing was when i started to read the book and remember the character tom hanks played in the last two films, it was much easier to let my mind unravel and imagine, because there's a 'face' to it now. i even went into a soundtrack downloading frenzy, getting what tracks i could from the internet - suites that were used in the da vinci code and angels and demons - and i could swear i 'hear' the haunting hum of the melody hanz zimmer was tapped to compose for the film interpretations in my head as i turned the pages.

all in all, despite split reviews of the novel, i enjoyed the wild, entertaining and intellectual ride. and i am secretly hoping there would at least be one or two more additions to the phenomenon that is robert langdon.

they are among us posted by imani , at 8:38 PM, in Labels: something else

according to danielle trussoni's first novel, angelology.

she gave us the story of evangeline cacciatore, a young nun residing within the safe confines of st. rose convent in milton, new york. since she lost her parents as a teenager, she has lived her life content with the notion of serving Him and their order.

one fateful day, she met verlaine, a persuasive art historian who was seeking her help on some research and from that point on, we were taken to an interesting story about how entangled the world we live in is with that of the mystical lore of angels.

the book was both ambitious and daunting - as we face the possibility that angels, after all, are not just spiritual beings, as the nephilims, descendants of angels and humans, reveal the shape and form of what trussoni called 'monstrously beautiful.'


i was digesting the book for a good eight days, and found myself getting a little lost especially towards the middle of the novel. however, i would have to say that there was one particular thing that made me want to go through the whole ordeal: the idea of reigniting a battle between secret societies and some darker machinations always did its part. impeccably.

from eco's foucault's pendulum, to dan brown's angels and demons and the da vinci code, to c.s. lewis' the chronicles of narnia and even j.k. rowling's harry potter - as humans, we've always been drawn to stories that depict the triumph of good over evil. just the same, this story leads us to the tyranny of the dark angels who bind their wings and the unstoppable decline of their race which was the result of impure, manipulated genetics.

the premise is compelling, but the topic was also too broad all to be congested and placed in one single book. i suppose it would have been better if the ending wasn't rushed. not that there was an end, there was actually a cliffhanger. i am imagining that perhaps a follow up is in the works.

the endless posted by imani , Thursday, February 23, 2012 at 1:39 AM, in Labels: freefall

there was a singular, almost incomprehensible instant that led me to want to talk about this.

what i think of love. and how love has changed me. or every other person's life for that matter. at least for those who have allowed themselves to feel it.

love always have been about patience. the patience to sit and wait in a corner and watch its magic unfold before your very eyes. the tenacity and resolve to stay in one place and learn to seek it but never rush, instead you must remain where you are until it finally seeks you.

there have been moments i chased it, especially when i was much, much younger (now that makes me feel so ancient). that was a phase when i thought i would run out of chances, a time when i thought i knew enough about myself that i am so ready to be with someone else. i was wrong.

as i aged, my notions about it has significantly moved forward, and my own battles with it made me learn the hard way. but i suppose there was never an easy way.

almost always, the things we badly want to achieve are the most elusive. in instances when i had my heart tattered and bruised i almost gave up on the idea of finding what it means to surrender - to desire to give all of who i am to but one person. i thought i'd have forever lost faith in the possibility of having happiness in my life despite of constant chaos.

and just when i was in the brink of disbelief, i realized that i still have to continue nurturing myself - that i have to learn how to love myself despite my own failures, despite the truth that i thought i am solely to be blamed for the miseries of my heart. and in the darkness i stumbled upon an epiphany. that we cannot offer that which we do not have. i cannot possibly want to love someone if i do not understand how imperative it is that i love who i am.

it starts and ends with patience. when i found a glint of hope in one named jona, i took my time. i took my sweet time discerning whether or not i can make myself worthy for this person, and whether or not i can allow her to try to make me happy - or at least show me a side of happiness i have never seen or never imagined before.

and when my days slowly started to begin and end with glimmering and undeniable notion of her, i knew it was something i have to commit to if in case it unravels. and it did. and ever since, i know i have been trying my very best to also show her what she has shown me - that there is more to love than just this one-dimensional approach to it - it is not easy. and there are times, although painful, one must admit that things are not always perfect.

there is the endless fall towards the one who keeps you breathing. there is the call for an endless capacity to always offer more than you have the day before, and to always remember to forgive even when you cannot see through the tears in your eyes.

in spite of the fact that we sometimes get distracted by our work, by our passion in other things that lie outside of what we share, she has taught me to be a little more grateful for every waking moment we are given. waiting for her to come around and to realize the nature of all that i hold for her, and all i intend to offer was and is a gift that i certainly have been blessed with.

faith and reason posted by imani , Wednesday, February 22, 2012 at 1:19 AM, in Labels: freefall

today is Ash Wednesday.

and today, though we all know how flailed we are as human beings, we are given a chance not to wage a battle with faith and with reason, but rather be sanctified by the nourishment we get from our faith in the One True God and understand that a reason exists for everything - in this age when it has become harder and harder to see through the stained glass, when in this day and age we are in a constant turmoil, we are continually reminded that God does not take sides in wars.

i take this time to pray for patience and for peace. i take this time to go back to what i was taught as a child - this day is not just a mere Catholic holiday, but signifies our journey with and towards our Creator. when i was younger, i thought it was a 'fad' to have a cross placed on my forehead, not realizing that it is symbolic to the power of humility, and how such virtue can deepen our relationship with Him.

this is a day i acknowledge the start of a feast, the start of a promise, that all are from dust and to dust all return, that our Father will show the meaning behind everything he has ever created and given the power of mind and of freewill He has enabled us with, show us the meaning of how He can change the very things He gave life to.

here, basking in humility and in surrender, in remembrance and in reverence of The Almighty, and believe that no matter how intense the world gets, we all can live in his promise, that He is our Savior, that He is our Shepherd, and as written on the 37th Psalm: be still before the Lord, wait for God.

the triumph and misery of thieving posted by imani , Wednesday, February 8, 2012 at 1:28 AM, in Labels: something else

a little over a week ago, i had the courage to pick this book up from my dusting shelf and leaf through the pages again. i thought the courage was temporary and would eventually be futile but i underestimated myself.

in the same way, this story is never to be underestimated.

"the book thief' was set in 1939 in the nazi-plagued germany, our protagonist arrives on the lonely street of himmel, a german word which translates to 'heaven.' she was nine years old when i first met her. days before that, her younger brother died due to a lethal cough and her mother resorted to putting her in a foster home. her name was liesel meminger. and before giving color to the inane life on himmel street, she took something that did not belong to her. she took the grave digger's handbook (from none other than the grave digger in her brother's snow-laden burial).

she did not know how to read - it was her foster father who taught her how to, a placid soul who knew the weight of pain and somehow lightened the burden by playing his accordion. her foster mother, as the author has written, was made entirely of cardboard - unfeeling, unattached and has the fancy habit of calling people 'saukerl' or 'saumensch (look it up in the duden dictionary). this family hid a jew in their basement, just when hitler and his minions were in the height of their power. she has also denied her best friend the chance of a kiss - several times. and as the title suggested, she went through this pleasurable era of stealing books. and unfortunately, there were no available recovery programs to help lift her from her subtle addiction.

liesel found liberation in learning, as we all have, i suppose. but the very thing she loved the most - words - was the reason her country and its people were trapped for so long, in the claws and daggers of the nazi regime.

i found myself reaching for the book between my wake and my slumber. fumbling through several pages, or a dozen pages at a time, which totally depended on my ability to keep myself awake. and then i could not stop thinking about how the story would end, as i seem to have formed an affinity for the tragedy and victory of its characters, and all the little stories they lived through during this war-torn era.

it was more than being war-torn. take...war-ransacked or war-robbed. as i approached the last 80 pages, i suddenly had this feeling of wanting to read it slow-motion. or at least i attempted to prolong devouring the last few bits of it, i was afraid of what i would find in the end. i could not conceive of the atrocity that happened several decades ago - and the fact that it did unfold, and that real people suffered.

perhaps the best realization was that it was not fiction at all. these were real events. more real than any real thing or occurrence could get. that in that god-forsaken place, young girls such as liesel did exist - that people like her had to endure all the monstrosity depicted in the book.

markus zusak produced a brilliant novel, which is both a silver lining in the sky at dawn and the thunderclap in the darkest nights of our existence. written with death (without a scythe, as it explained) as the narrator, it is blunt as it is humorous. i have spent the last couple of days feeling depressed - because the story told truth in its rawest form, and because i simply could not help myself.

the photograph you see was taken that very same day i bought it - out of compulsion - and i am glad i stopped to read the gist and gave it to myself for christmas.