A Passion for Creativity

The world would be just a piece of dirt with various mismash of semi or non related objects spewn across its vastness of a dulldrum existence without creativity. There might not even be any words to describe the dulldrumness of its existence.

From my perspective, I have developed a passion for seeking out creative outlets as a means to escape my dulldrum of mediocracy and enhance the need to create. I engage in various projects that continually expands and encourages this need to satisfy all the different senses. I view creation as giving life to oneself as well as giving life to the world. An act of saying "YES" to life itself. Overall, the more I create, the more I feel alive.


Creative Thinking
Imagine harnessing a force such as light and concentrating it into a single beam that can cut through skin and heal it at the same time. This of course is what we now know today as LASER which stands for Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation, where light is really electromagnetic radiation that is amplified at various frequencies depending on its use. But that's not important right now... Interestingly enough, the creation of laser technology is not attributed to one person but a culmination of ideas from several people, starting with Albert Einstein in 1917 who laid the foundation with his Quantum Theory of Radiation.

The lesson I learned here is that I don't have to create from scratch, but rather build upon someone else's imagination. The most difficult part of this process and yet the most fun is sifting through many great ideas to start from or to pattern after.

The sifting process that I emplore is more like completing a jigsaw puzzle picking up a piece of the puzzle to try and figure out where it goes. If I don't see where it goes, I put it down and pick up another piece. Nothing goes into the waste basket because I know that I can use that piece in another part of the puzzle or on another puzzle all together.

The magic behind creative thinking is the formation of thoughts that become reality. The reality may not happen immediately but undoubtedly and inevitably will come to fruition.


Vision:
The key to creativity is visualization. If you can see it in your mind's eye, then it is possible to start the mental engineering process. Leaders and motivational speakers talk a lot about having vision because it is the mental roadmap where you establish where you are starting from and where you would like to end up. The constraining part of visualization is that most often we rely on paths we've already taken. In order for the visualization to play a major role in creativity it is imperative to abandon restriction to all known paths and challenge oneself to explore all paths.

Given a room full of diverse individuals to come up with ideas for a given project, inevitably the disparaging comment of "that won't work because..." or "... we can't do that because...." arises from one amongst the multitudes. Discounting ideas through the visualization process is much like coming to a locked door and saying, "this is a deadend..." rather than, "let's keep this path in mind and perhaps we might be able to find the key to open the door..." The visualization process is where the impossible becomes possible; an act of reaching out to the heavens and asking for some insight into the realms of possibilites. To paraphrase one of the best motivational speaker, Les Brown; illogical thinking brings about illogical results. Therefore if you think about the impossible, you will acheive the impossible.

A final farewell to a friend...

My wife, Didi, and I have been sitting in the waiting room with our baby girl, Heidi, for what seemed to be several hours in anticipation of seeing Dr. Bell. It has been over two weeks that Heidi has been sick and refused to eat, and we were very concerned, which is why we brought her back to get examined. Didi and I were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to handle Dr. Bell’s diagnosis of Heidi’s condition. Dr. Bell had seen Heidi several times during the past months and, each time, Heidi’s condition seemed to have worsened.

At long last, we were escorted to the examination room. Heidi was very weak so I picked her up and helped her onto the examination table. Although she looked healthy, she laid there on the table without a whine or a whimper – she hardly had the strength. She looked up at me with sad eyes as if to say, “Please let me go.”

After a few minutes, Dr. Bell came into the room. He started with the usual examination feeling Heidi’s throat, chest area, and stomach. He then put the stethoscope to her chest to listen for her heart. After a few moments, he looked up at my wife and me with a solemn look, “I’m afraid that there’s not much more that I can do for her – her heart is very weak. We could put her on medication but it wouldn’t do much good. It might help prolong her life by only a couple of days or, optomistically, a couple of weeks. Why don’t I leave you to decide on what you want to do from here.”

I started to recall when we first picked up Heidi at my wife’s former boss’ house. Heidi was a beautiful two year old German rottweiler with silky black fur. Apparently someone had left her in a trash container when she was younger, where she was found and later cared for by Didi’s former boss’ family. They were giving Heidi away because she needed a home where she could be the only dog. They could no longer keep Heidi because they had three other dogs that Heidi would steal attention from. Heidi took quickly to us, so we were very happy to adopt her.

Heidi had a great disposition and proved to be a great companion for both my wife and me. Heidi was pretty much house trained, so we kept her in the house during the first few weeks. She was also a very smart dog and would often find ways of getting into places with little or no effort.

One day, my wife received a call at work from a neighbor who said, “do you know that you have a dog on your roof?!” My wife immediately came home to find Heidi sitting and waiting on the roof of the first level of our house. Apparently, Heidi had climbed on the bay window seat of our bedroom on the second floor, pushed the window screen out and climbed out onto the roof. We made certain that all the windows and doors were closed before we left for work from then on. We definitely had quite a lot of happy times together through the ten years that we had Heidi.

In contrast, there we were in the examination room facing a very difficult decision. After contemplating and reflecting for what must have seemed like hours, I looked at my wife, who already had tears in her eyes, and said, “Heidi has pretty much made the decision for us. As much as I hate to do it, I think it’s time to let her go. She’s led a very happy life with us and it would be selfish of us to keep her alive just for our sake.” Didi agreed and shakingly said, “I know.”

Dr. Bell came in and we told him of our decision – in retrospect, it was Heidi’s decision and we were there to respect it. Dr. Bell prepped the needle and informed us that it would be just like Heidi was going to sleep. He said that the process of her heart stopping would be instant and that she would not feel any discomfort. He also warned us that towards the end, she would let out a release of air like a sigh but that it would be just a natural reaction and that she would already be gone by then.

Dr. Bell inserted the needle to Heidi’s right front leg and almost immediately, Heidi dropped her head slowly in a resting position. Her eyes started to glaze over and her eyelids started to get heavy. She closed her eyes and her breathing started to slow as Didi and I held her as comforting parents. Finally, there was silence…. Then a sigh… Our baby was gone… Pools of emotions erupted from my heart as I said “goodbye.” I’m not certain if she could even remotely hear me but I told her that she was going to a better place and that I would see her again some day on the other side.

I still recall all the great times that Heidi and I had playing in the backyard and walking around the block. My wife and I both miss Heidi – our companion… our friend… our girl.

Sam Paano - The Early Years

This coming September I will turn 49 years old - the pre-cursor to a new phase in life most commonly called "The Big Five-O!"

Although no one has yet labeled me as "Old Man", some have considered me a wise owl because of all the knowledge I've gained over the years... or was it smart ass... well, that's not important right now. What is important is that I've gained a lot of different experiences throughout the 49 years that I've been into existence. I'll document all of these experiences here while I can still recall each and every one of them just as they happened; starting with my younger years.

Perhaps its best to start with the most daring experience I've ever had, just to get it out of the way... This experience happened when I was about six months old and I jupmed in, head first, because I wanted to take advantage of my youthful look and spirit. I got my first modeling experience when I had been asked to pose for one of the most popular magazine, at the time, that catered to young girls. You might have heard of the magazine; it was called "Play Pen Girl". This was my centerfold pose on the first issue that sold out within the first hour of its distribution. I heard on the news that there were stampedes of expectant mothers clammering all over magazine stands just to get a copy. I could just imagine the scene like a bunch of weebles wobbling against each other's bellies without falling down...

The magazine, at the time, was forcing me to do a full frontal nudity but I insisted that for the amount of money they were paying me, the best that I could do is to go topless. I guess we all know who won that arguement!

Well, from there, I went on as a spokesperson for Vicks Vapor Rub since we stocked a number of jars in the house. My mom used it from relieving colds and the flu, curing headaches, easing upset stomaches, remedying itches and insect bites, and good old fashioned replacement to cough drops. Of course, this was before she found out about the many uses of WD-40.

It sounds crazy, huh?... the rub also worked great as a chick repellent; especially with the women papparazzi that kept following me around. I had more female papparazzi than male... Swarming all on top of me just to get a photo op of me for free... They even had their own language like "Woogily woogily wooo..." or "Gaga goo-goo..." I mean, who knows what exactly they were saying; to me it could've been all pig latin for all I cared!

Here's me on a Vicks Vapor Rub commercial - I was like Flo of Progressive Insurance, except I was small, male, and downright cute! Okay, I was nothing like Flo! Although Flo is cute, I was even cuter! There, I said it! Now - LEAVE IT!

After that, word spread around about my photogenic image and was approached by the television studios to do a comedy series. The storyline was about the goofy adventures of four band members and their crazy antics. I would star with three other toddlers by the name of Crosby, Still and Nash. I though, "Hey, I'm Young... I can do this!" I'm glad I did because it was a lot of fun; although I think the other three started getting jealous of my popularity with the ladies. It wasn't long before I went solo and they started going on tour by themselves (although, we were all accompanied by baby-sitters for stroller and other duties -"he he, I said duties...") Sad, though because we could've been more popular than John Lennon and the Beatles.

In the beginning...

At the cornerstone of my existance stands my parents. Mom, a frail and meek looking woman with a heart of a lioness, and Dad, a straight-faced technological genius whose claim to fame was the child who built a radio at the age of 10 (before RadioShack and experiment kits). Both were equal in their intelligence, mom in accounting and dad in technology. Both were religous by nature, and well spoken about their beliefs and ideals.

Where they differed the most was in their view of life.

Mom, in her nurturing way, would sometimes excuse my sisters and I from school and take us to work with her in downtown Manila; especially when there's an event happening outside of their office like a grand parade. I distinctly remember the cramped office full of dark-stained wooden desks, wire baskets; the bond paper and the black carbon paper strewn in and out of typewriters. Men wore black or dark gray slacks with white short-sleeved shirts and thin neckties. The women wore pastel blouses with dress skirts that went halfway down their calves. I don't recall anyone wearing bold colors during that time.

Mom's office was one of the upper floors of the building, perhaps third or fourth. I do remember that when the parade did go by, everyone would rush over to the window to get the best view. Mom would make certain that we had a good spot. During one of these times, I would often look at the crowd that formed on the street thinking, "I wonder what they can see from down below?" I couldn't imagine the view being any better than what we had from where we were.

Milk was delivered in medium-sized thick glass bottles by a man in white uniform practically every morning at our front door. The milk came from a dairy farm called Magnolia and it was always cold. The taste of that milk was so good that I could've drank a whole bottle in one sitting. At night, mom would often give us warm milk because she said that it would help us sleep. Whether that was true or not really didn't matter - all I remember was that it tasted really good and felt very comforting especially before bed.

Bedtime was a whole excercise in itself that started with taking the top matress off of the mom and dad's bed and laying it on to the floor; followed by laying out the bed sheets, then putting up the mosquito net to cover mom and dad's bed as well as a second one to cover the matress that my sisters and I slept on. Each mosquito net was big enough to resemble a see-through tent that bedtime was like camping... only indoors, and with lights on. Mom would often join us on our matress until we fell asleep; then she would turn out the lights and join dad in their bed.

Dad was more regimental and he didn't like the idea of us missing school. He'd let my mom know of his disapproval towards this inexcusable act without any hesitation. My dad was so strict that we weren't allowed to talk, much less laugh and make jokes, at the dinner table. We were there to eat, and by golly we needed to eat and finish our food because there are starving children in China who don't get enough food to eat! (Yes, that threat does go all the way to the Philippines even in the 60's). One evening, I made the mistake of thinking of this joke while eating, and I started to giggle; and I could feel the heat at the back of my head come down to my spine even before I saw my Dad's glare. When my sister saw me giggling, she started to giggle, and soon the whole table was giggling except for Dad. I wish I could tell you more of what happened after that but somehow I don't remember. It's as if the memory has been erased...

My dad really wasn't all that bad. I remember him helping me with my multiplication table when I was in first grade. He was the one who started me with "one times one equals one"... We had gone through the multiplication table all the way to "ten times ten equals one hundred", when my mom called me to bed. Unfortunately Dad wasn't done with me yet because he continued with "eleven times one is what?" Two hours later when we got to "twelve times twelve equals one hundred forty four", I was given permission to go to bed. I glanced at Dad sitting on the floor and he gave me a smile, and told me that I did real well. I saw the glimmer of pride in his eyes and I felt compelled to hug him. We said our goodnight and I scurried off to bed. Looking back, it was probably one of the best bonding moments that I've ever had with him.

I did give Dad a scare during one of our family beach outings when I was little. I didn't do it on purpose and there was certainly no planning on my part - it just happened. You see, I was running around the picnic area at the beach that our whole family went to, and Mom and the other ladies (my Aunts) were preparing the tables for lunch. I asked Mom where Dad was and she said that he's swimming in the ocean. I ran across the shoreline to see my dad swimming with an inner tube about a hundred feet out and I yelled to him, "Dad!" He yelled back, "Come and swim towards me..." I yelled, "I'm afraid!" He then swam towards me and told me to get on the inner tube. Once I got in, he started taking us further and further away from the shore until we got to the same area where he was originally swimming. He told me, "don't be afraid; I've got a hold of the tube and I won't let go..." I felt protected knowing that my dad is with me and it felt good to be sitting in an inner tube on a beautiful sun-shiny day in the middle of the ocean. Gentle waves raised and lowered us as if we were riding over liquid bumps. The cool breeze of the soft wind made its presence known with every flicker of our hair.

Suddenly, a huge wave blanketed me and overturned the inner tube. I found myself underwater and didn't know which way was up. I opened my eyes only to see water all over me. I tried gasping for air but only took in more water. I felt a tug on my right ankle and that was the last that I remembered.

I woke up lying on the warm sand of the beach with everyone gathered around me and my dad kneeling by my feet. He expelled a sigh of relief and said, "You're okay now. I was very worried about you. It must have been twenty minutes to a half hour that I've been searching for you out there. Luckily your feet surfaced and I was able to grab your ankle." My dad had saved me.

At the cornerstone of my life, my parents laid the foundation for me to build upon. I've been blessed with the experiences that I've had and with the people that I've shared them with, starting with Mom and Dad. Apparently, Mom and Dad started me off as a house of bricks because I'm still standing...