Oliver James Damian
Bio
I love acting because when done well it weaves actuality of doing with richness of imagination that compels transformation in shared story making.
Stories (15)
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Sometimes it boils down to that split-second decision to take the mobile device out of one's pocket and snap! One click, one shot. Capture that precise moment with non-conscious regard. Unfiltered. Raw. Unedited. An utmost trust in one's instincts paired with confidence in electronic gadgetry.
By Oliver James Damian3 years ago in Photography
Presently past futures
That was supposed to be me. I seem to have been clothed in a beautifully embroidered garment. My face was obscured by what I think is a mass book held by the late Monsignor Cirilio Almario. He would have been the parish priest of the Saint Augustine Catholic Church in Baliuag, Bulacan at that time. This would have been the Philippines back in 1974. The Monsignor would have been anointing my forehead with the oil of catechumens. I believe this ritual of anointing with oil was meant to strengthen the catechumen—the one receiving the sacrament of baptism, me in this case—to resist evil, temptation, and sin. This would have been the moment I was welcomed into communion with the body of Christ, the Roman Catholic Church, in this case.
By Oliver James Damian3 years ago in Psyche
Episode 1 of "Awakening from the meaning crisis"
These are my paraphrased transcription and notes (1) on the first episode of John Vervaeke's lecture series "Awakening from the meaning crisis". John is a Professor in the Cognitive Science Program of the Psychology Department at the University of Toronto. He also teaches at the Buddhism, Psychology and Mental Health Programme.
By Oliver James Damian4 years ago in Longevity
The way of the owl
"Hold tension among opposites and patiently wait for thusness to arise. This is the way of the owl." Bobby started to feel nausea. He has always despised vomiting. As a child, he would drink copious amounts of water to dilute the acidic taste in the mouth which portends vomit. He imagined the bulk of water weighing on the acid reflux. Pushing down whatever was wanting to come up back to where it belongs. Down there. Digested. Defecated. Got rid of, in private. Never to see the light of day.
By Oliver James Damian4 years ago in Fiction
Nanay Disya
I was raised by my paternal grandparents in a little village called Ulingao in the Philippines. I called my grandma "Nanay" in the Tagalog language which corresponds to the English "Mother". Most people in Ulingao called her "Insong Disya" or “Nana Disya”.
By Oliver James Damian5 years ago in Families
Would you be my anti-valentine?
Dear Lover, What would it take to wean you off Valentine's Day? Bury the hatchet I used to love her, but I had to kill her I used to love her, hm yeah, but I had to kill her I had to put her six feet under And I can still hear her complain
By Oliver James Damian5 years ago in Beat
Mistral Point
It is a promontory 12 miles from where I live. Each Thursday morning l get up at five, catch two buses so I can get there by seven. As I walk from the bus stop it feels like I'm approaching hallowed ground. I slow down. I take my time. I meander through the various paths that lead there. Sometimes I take paths closest to the ocean, passing by the rock pool for example. Other times I take paths closer to the road with the joggers and dog walkers. There are other days I do a mixture of both. Still, on occasion, I stray from the already made paths to create my own on the grass.
By Oliver James Damian5 years ago in Photography
