My Thoughts Exactly

2010-08-25T15:11:00.003+08:00

Two days after we commemorated the death of a martyr, another tragedy befell. Too many thoughts swimming in my head over the hostage drama that caused the unnecessary deaths of 8 Hong Kong nationals (3 of whom are Canadian citizens, incidentally). I am saddened by the fact that a happy excursion day for a bunch of foreigners ended as the worst day of their lives, and the end of many. I grieve for the dead and their relatives, for the mother whose entire family was killed in the shoot out, for random foreigners who were virtually used as human shields by a selfish man, whose sole purpose was to get reinstated into a position he deserved to get sacked from. But my strong feelings do not end there.

Upon watching the bloody resolution of the hostage situation, my first thought was how embarrassing it was for the whole world to watch (in LIVE coverage) our inept and inefficient police force handle this crisis. I've never been a fan of the police force, or the MMDA, or Barangay officials. I think that most of them are extremely corrupt individuals who's lack in training and qualifications make them and the system completely inefficient to handle major situations such as this. Moreover, the pictures of policemen posing in front of the tourist bus for a souvenir photo is downright disgusting. With that aside, it is fully understandable to have the Hong Kong government express disappointment at the way the situation was handled.

However, I believe that people should stop blaming Noynoy for this incident, for lack of a better scapegoat. If people want to create scapegoats- then why not blame the entire system? In as much as it is true that the President of our country is supposed to be in charge, I think it is quite unfair to blame a less than 100-day President for the long standing problems faced by this country. We elected him because we were sick and tired of the same system that has gone on for too long, but we all know that for real change to happen- A LOT of steps must be taken. It's unfair to cry foul when Noynoy has barely made his first step. If we want to contribute to the changes needed for this country, the FIRST thing we must learn to do is to think clearly, intelligently and use our heads before our mouths. There is a much bigger picture that exists out there and nothing will happen if people refuse to see that.

2009-10-20T14:12:00.006+08:00

Dear Siblings in Vancouver,

I am filled with so much emotion as i write this. It is so difficult to fathom the fact that my little trip has come to an end. I know that our goodbyes this time is sadder than the other goodbyes, and I honestly don't know how to go about it.

So... let me just put together all the fun things we did (not in any particular order)-

-scrambling to get to seattle- the first leg-- oh tina!
-brunches with Karyn at Secret Garden and Sophie's- i so love mornings, and i enjoyed these meals so much!
-lunch at Vij! Thanks tina- you really went over and beyond your food preference to go on this food trip with me!
-Nando's! need i say more???
-Free drinks at Starbucks!!! Muchas thanks to my darling sister and her generous co-workers--
-The Wolf and Hound- Thanks bro, for sharing my new love of pubs!
-Trekking to SFU.. how on earth do you do all that tina????
-Downtown and West 4th shopping days!
-simply being with you.

Of course it was enjoyable too because Denz was here, and lovely friends all over Vancouver, OC and Seattle...

I'll miss you guys always...

2009-08-03T16:14:00.003+08:00

I was 6 years old when I was first exposed to Cory Aquino. My parents took me to EDSA one day and all I could remember was a sea of yellow shirts with a man's face and caps with the L (for Laban) signs. I wore one such cap while propped on my dad's shoulders. Later that year, my brother was born on Ninoy's death anniversary.

Enter a year or so later, every time there would be coups against her, my relatives who lived near Camps Crame and Aguinaldo would stay at our place in San Juan for a few days until it was safer to go home. I would always remember how things would always go back to normal after those few days. Now, it amazes me that this woman held on and courageously faced all those threats against her and her family to protect the principles that she fought for.

Fast forward to 2001- those EDSA Dos days- or so they called it. I often told people back then that that was my second EDSA appearance. Cory was at the forefront of that too, because she was fighting for the democracy and freedom which was again denied to us by way of the unfair and biased proceedings at the Impeachment trial of Erap. I remember how GMA seemed like such a promising liberator- almost like the Cory of 1986.

But there can only be one Cory. In 2005, Cory joined many other politicians in asking Arroyo to step down. I wondered then, why she switched sides just like that, aligning herself with the former President she helped oust. But again, her consistency in fighting for this country's freedom and democracy has always been solid. It was the other politicians who proved to be otherwise.

Just last year, I had the honor of finally meeting and serving Cory at Angels Kitchen, while she had Sunday lunch with her family. She had ordered the Kimchi Rice with Beef Bulgogi, and when I told her it would be a bit spicy, she said she did not mind at all. She also ordered a Sprite to go with that. Every time she spoke to me or a waitress, she always smiled and said thank you. In the service industry like ours, that does not come often. :)

Last Saturday, I was deeply saddened when I heard about her death... Coming home from a late movie, we passed by the Ortigas overpass and I was mesmerized by the simple beauty of the illuminating lights coming from the La Salle auditorium. At that late an hour, Ortigas was filled with cars, TV vans and people trying to get into La Salle, for one last glimpse.

Tita Cory, You will be missed.

One of the best written speeches, in my opinion

2009-07-17T16:21:00.000+08:00

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination

Harvard University Commencement Address

J.K. Rowling

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates,

The first thing I would like to say is 'thank you.' Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I've experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world's best-educated Harry Potter convention.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the 'gay wizard' joke, I've still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called 'real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.

They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.

Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's minds, imagine themselves into other people's places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:

As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

I wish you all very good lives.

Thank you very much.

Prayers

2009-04-17T09:41:00.002+08:00

Almost 36 hours ago, a family friend of ours was kidnapped. He is only 21 years old. I have known J since he was a baby... as he is my dad's godson, we would always spend good times with this family. His older sister, N, was a childhood buddy. I was naturally devastated by the news of his kidnap, but did not get the facts straight until last night at a mass held for his safe return.

They were closing up their store when 5 armed men stormed in to grab my friend, N. This is when her brother, J, offered himself instead in exchange for his sister. Such a brave and magnanimous act. So heartwrenching and the thought brings tears to my eyes.

Please help us all pray for J's safe return home.

To A-

2009-02-17T23:08:00.002+08:00

The past two days have been so out of place for me ever since i heard about your tragic accident. I remember how you were such a good friend and confidante to my friend E, and how you were one of M's bestest friends. We were never close friends, but yours was a name and face I was always familiar with. During the times that our paths crossed, in Boracay, at a mall or restaurant, you never failed to say hello and smile in that warm way you do. I wish i could have known you better in this lifetime, and my heart grieves for those who love you and who are crushed by the fact that they will never see you again. I hope and pray that you have reached a better place that we, in our earthly realm can only dream of.

02.14.09

2009-02-12T19:59:00.001+08:00

Valentine’s day is coming up with less hype than usual. For sure, there will be florists and restaurants scrambling to capitalize on one of the few days in a year that they can do really well. I’ve learned not to be embittered about it (see last year’s Valentine’s entry) and just avoid the rush rather than lament endlessly about the 100% inflation on flowers and food that will occur for one day only.

I’ve decided to spend time internalizing what Valentine’s Day means to me instead, and take stock on the years I’ve spent with my one and only Valentine. This year will be extra special for us. We’ve celebrated our last boyfriend-girlfriend anniversary last December, and will be celebrating our last Valentines day as an unmarried couple this year. Many of our Valentine’s days are spent like an ordinary day is, and for the first half of our relationship, we actually did the flowers and dinner date thing that most couples do for the heck of it. Last year, I told D not to send me flowers and save the money instead. We went to one of our favorite restaurants instead (which thankfully did not serve Valentine specials that I find limiting and expensive). This year we’re doing something different but which some people will be very surprised to hear, since it doesn’t seem like something I and D would do or like, but cheesy and corny as it is, its one thing that the both of us share, and in a life that’s shared among two people, I suppose that is what really counts at the end.

Looking back, I realize that for some peculiar reason, God brought two extremely different people together. But in a deeper sense, I suppose that we are also two very like individuals as well. D is an introvert, a classic INTJ personality, whereas I am the complete mirror opposite- an ESFJ. But the “J” in both our personalities, grounds us to be passionate about the values we believe in. We both LOVE to shop and can spend hours shopping. But I shop at the mall for clothes, accessories and the like, while D’s mall is his trusty old laptop where he shops for the best businesses to invest in. We both cannot live without books, which is why our extensive collection can create a mini library in the future. My books are composed of fiction, rare literary finds, memoirs, poetry and some philosophical ones. His are those that are written by great people that range from the inspirational to the instructive, to finance and fitness. We both love our dogs to bits (even if he won’t admit it) but my dog is a cute medium sized Shiba Inu, while his is a misunderstood German Shepherd. D and I also are deeply committed to God, and strive to be better Christians, though he would rather do it quietly while strengthening himself with the Word, whereas I find myself committing myself more to acts of worship and service. The list goes on and on…

Right now, I feel blessed at the symmetry our lives have created together. Other couples lead completely different his and hers lives, but here we are trying to incorporate as much of our lives as we can to our relationship. Because of D, I’ve taken up running and have loved it ever since. I’ve started reading John Templeton and now think he is the most astute investor and spiritual advisor of his time. Because of me, D has been more adventurous to his food preferences and has been more engaging as an individual. We have now started buying common things like books and gadgets, thinking it more wise and practical. We even have shared friends in the sense that his friends have become as dear to me as mine have to him. There is beauty in sharing, as there is in loving, but what is most beautiful is the purpose of our being together, and for that I am grateful.

Snippets of one Decembrrr morning

2008-12-05T09:08:00.002+08:00

Nowadays, the mornings are darker, the air moist and chilly, and I find myself snuggling deeper into my blanket rather than getting up at my normal time. One by one, relatives and friends from all over are starting to arrive, and nights are filled with joyful merrymaking and reasons to celebrate. There is laughter, there is friendship, there is love.

I love the month of December, for these reasons and many more.

In search of something lost

2008-11-10T16:35:00.000+08:00

I need to get to a place to find all the things that matter to me in place. I have abandoned my first love and the one thing I felt I had potential to do, because I lacked the courage to see it through.

Writing was a passion that started in my early to late teenage years. I started writing poetry when I was in Grade 6, and I remember how I could usually churn out poems in a few minutes (with form and content). I tried out short stories in high school and eventually became the literary editor of our school newspaper and literary magazine. I wrote yearbook write ups for countless friends and edited everyone else’s write ups before it was published. In college, all that remained of my writing were essays and boring excerpts that produced nothing quite original. A small spurt of my poetic self came out in my Junior year when I took a Poetry class and another writing class.

If I were to categorize myself as a writer right now, I’d call myself a frustrated writer. Whilst none of my writer friends have ever had something noteworthy (like a book or an anthology) published, I still feel that hunger come up to me from time to time.

What would therefore qualify me to be a writer?

Books are my passion. I love to read books written by anyone and which covers topics and storylines about anyone and anything. I love fiction, non-fiction, memoirs and autobiographies, history books and poetry books, classical and modern literature. I used to draw inspiration from these books I read and I secretly credit these books for shaping my vocabulary and grammar.

I love to talk. I can go on and on, narrating stories, formulating opinions, reflections and insights for people who ask and do not ask for it.

I’m a stickler for powerful endings. I believe in how every piece must have a good ending. Nothing ordinary or written in the last breath- as if to say- this is the end! I believe that the endings make or break every story and every piece. This is where my horrible habit of going to the last page of the book originated- from that search for that great ending only obsessive people like me can understand.

On the other hand, I have lived almost ten years without having written any notable piece, almost ten years have gone by since I’ve lost myself in my (written) work.

I miss it terribly. It’s as if I was mourning for something I once had, but lost. Is it possible for one person to gain something that has already been given up? Subconsciously, I think it has always been there, and only manifests itself from time to time through various outlets. But maybe, I should think about “coming out” again. Perhaps it’s a start to my quest of reclaiming myself once again- what I once was, and where I want to be.

Run Baby, Run!

2008-11-04T16:39:00.002+08:00

My family and close friends can attest that I, Kath Ong, absolutely has no athletic bone in my body. I am happy enough to watch people do sports, and fleetingly admire the willpower of those who can sustain a sport, but dismiss myself as hopeless.

I surprised myself last May by buying a pair of Mizuno running shoes, which perfectly suited every curve and contour of my foot. Purchasing that shoe was an experience in itself, as I was made to stand on a transparent glass with a reflecting mirror underneath so that I (and the sales person) can see how high or low the arch of my foot was. (No wonder other shoes hurt when I tried to exercise- i bought wrong ones for my feet!) Nonetheless, I whipped out my credit card and made a whopping first investment in running. Again, for weeks, I procrastinated.

Finally, on June 1, at the Clark Hatch gym in CDO, I began my running journey. At first it was about how long I could sustain a jog. I began with 3 minute intervals, for about 15 minutes, after which, I walked the rest away. I would gradually increase my ability to withstand the tiring legs, the pain in my sides and chest, and gradually increased my time and speed again. In months, I was steady and stable on a treadmill. I'm proud to say that I have not run less than twice in any week since I started in June.

I took another leap of faith in mid September when I joined Denzell for a weekly morning run in the UP quadrangle. Running on a concrete asphalt pavement, on a warm sunny day, is not an easy transition from running in a fully airconditioned gym, with a cushiony treadmill equipped with a TV monitor in front of you. One round was 2.2 km, and every week, I struggled to complete a round of pure running, while trying to increase my speed. In five to six weeks, I made it. Faster and better in terms of endurance. My next goal is the 5km run. My ultimate goal would be to run the NYC Marathon.... A girl can dream right?

Aside from the high I get in running, I realize that i now feel so much healthier than before. I feel less sluggish and lethargic during the day, and no longer worry about gaining weight. I can now eat and not worry about the pounds I will gain... I feel fitter than I have before, and for the first time, I actually feel more flexible (from all the stretching) too!

It took awhile for me to write about this latest feat in my life, because I was always afraid that once I did, I would somehow jinx it and it would all disappear. But 5 months of doing this made me realize that I've developed this into some kind of habit, albeit a new way of life. And despite the pain from physical exertion and tired joints I feel every time I try to improve myself, at the end of the day, I am happy that I did this. I owe it to myself to have a better looking, healthy body, inside and out. ;)

For Love of the Blue

2008-09-24T15:19:00.002+08:00

In my entire lifetime of watching live UAAP games, i have never lined up or paid for tickets. Somehow, there is always that generous aunt or uncle, or nice enough friends with the spare tickets who would gladly pass it on without asking for payback. Not that I watched a lot of games, mind you.

I could have snagged (free- again) tickets to the much awaited Game 1 of the Finals last Sunday, but decided to let it go in favor of a baptismal party i had committed to. Thankfully, there was a widescreen tv in the baptismal reception venue, crowded with die hard la salle fans. Thankfully, we won, or I wouldn't have heard the end of it.

I swore to be there on Game 2, and hopefully watch the momentous occasion of Ateneo getting a championship. Win or lose, it simply is one of THOSE GAMES where one had to be present. So, out of sheer desperation, i utilized my faculty status for the first time and queued up for 4 and a half hours outside the College Athletics Office to buy two Upper B tickets. I should not complain. I was there at 730 a.m and was around 30th in line. My colleagues who were there since 330 or 530 were the only ones who were able to snap up the much coveted Upper A tickets. We were talking amongst ourselves and stating the fact that as professionals serving the school, we should not be subjected to such efforts just to get tickets! One shouldn't complain though, as news travelled that the alumnis have been camping out overnight at the Blue Eagle Gym just to score 2 tickets a person, and college students at the MVP who have lined up since 2:30 a.m can only cross their fingers to get General Admission tickets!

How's that for school spirit?

Go Ateneo! One Big Fight!

2008-07-24T11:10:00.002+08:00

There are days when you feel like hiding underneath your covers in a bed far from your own bed. There are days when you feel like all your previous thoughts and beliefs go fly out the window.

There are also days, when as the saying goes, love conquers all.

I would like to believe that this is one of those days.

2008-06-30T17:32:00.002+08:00

I haven't posted in a long time, and so much has happened since. Happy developments, both triumphant frustrating moments, sad realizations have composed the past four months.

I just hope that I can pull off one of the bigger projects of my lifetime with one smooth go. I want to wake up when it is all over and breathe a sigh of relief and happiness at the start of a new life.

That is my one big wish for now.

Valentines Schmalentines

2008-02-11T12:07:00.000+08:00

I called our florist to order several floral arrangements today for various reasons and because we are regular customers, our florist friend adviced us not to get roses because the price had already gone up. Go figure. I was left with carnations instead but even those prices will go up for two days (on Feb. 13 and 14). Can you imagine how much florists make this time of the year? Their margins increase by at least 200-300% for this day alone.

The Valentine's Day business is very lucrative indeed. The "romantic" day for love has in fact turned into a ruckus and a moneymaking opportunity for establishments to take advantage of. It is almost impossible to go out to a restaurant on Valentines Day, as if it were some ordinary day. First of all, most restaurants will not seat you until you can commit to sit at 6pm or 8:30 pm, which are both pretty odd times to have dinner, 6pm being too early, and which really is closer to merienda and 8:30 pm being a tad bit late. But this seems to work, as many restaurants have declared themselves to be fully booked. Not to be forgotten is the fact that you will also have very limited choices as to the food you will have to eat for the night, since many of these restaurants have set menus for the night itself. Shall I even include hotels that offer Valentines packages for the night or weekend, as if their very package alone can incite romantic and you-know-what feelings from the couple...

Let us not forget the single hearted. I mean, what more painful way to remind them of their singlehood than this holiday that seems exclusive for couples only? If we would have this, then we should also have a day to celebrate the single life, right?

Last Valentines, I received a lovely bouquet (which came with a teddy bear) from the BF on the morning itself. I knew it cost him an arm and a leg but I really really appreciated the gesture (what girl doesn't like flowers anyway?) . That night, we went for the second seating at Chateau where I felt as if we were in a venue for speed dating. To the left of our table, barely one foot away, there was a couple who obviously just got together, and even if I truly tried not to listen, I could hear them talk about their friends who were seated at another table maybe four feet away (perhaps they heard it too). To the right of my table, I again tried not to listen to the yuppie lovebirds talk about their office and what they did that day. Thank God no one talked about what they were going to do for the remainder of the night or I may have puked out my sea bass and ruined the BF's crisp white polo shirt. After that night, I told myself that next year would be different.

So this year, I told the BF to not give me flowers, and plans have not been made as to where we will be celebrating, if we are even going to. But I have a fabulous date planned for Saturday (two days after Valentines), and that excites me more than the 14th itself.

Who said you can only be romantic on Valentines anyway?

Remembering

2008-02-08T00:15:00.000+08:00

As an employer, there is a sense of responsibility that I feel toward those who work for me. I work within an industry that deals with loans and collections at the doorsteps of the poor communities. With that task at hand, danger is almost apparent. This afternoon, an employee of mine was killed in the line of duty. His killer was shot dead by the police eventually, but the damage was done.. He was a model employee, younger than me. Tomorrow, I'm off to the province to show support and do "damage control". It is very hard.. I can only imagine how hard it is for his family who have yet to find out (they are from another province). I wrote a memo to all our employees, which goes like this:

At the time of this writing, you would have all heard about the tragic and unfortunate death of our colleague, Mr. Ronel Abadiano, which occurred yesterday at 4:30 p.m. He was a victim of a senseless assault which occurred when he was on his way to fulfilling his sit down obligation for the day. He was stabbed several times in various parts of his body and died minutes after arriving in the Provincial Hospital.

For the information of those who do not know him, Mr. Abadiano has been employed with us for the past three years. He was practically a fresh college graduate when he was hired and immediately was singled out as a promising LEAP (Livelihood Enhancement and Promotions) Agent because of how he was able to manage his clients, his books and the endless struggle with delinquency. He was compassionate to his clients yet at the same time was firm in the way he handled his clients’ accounts. He was also very hardworking in his role as LEAP Agent. He was a model employee who would even serve as a mentor and trainer to new recruits and a trustworthy and dependable right hand of his immediate superiors. He was recently promoted as Team Leader for Recording and Bookkeeping and had he lived on, would have surely risen further in rank.

One thing that I noticed about Ronel was the strength of his fighting spirit. He always was one who fought with his superiors with issues and values which he stood for. He was a man with principles- a man with dignity. Unfortunately, it was perhaps his fighting spirit that got him killed. He sustained the wounds because he simply kept fighting back, not allowing the killer to take what was his. He died with courage and dignity, and I believe it is best to remember Ronel in that manner.

As we grieve the loss of Ronel, let us remember and honor him for his valuable contributions to the Company. He was more than an ordinary LEAP Agent. He showed utmost dedication in our cause of serving the poor communities and was a loyal employee until the end. In this regard, I would like to ask for your continued prayers and support for him, his family and loved ones.

Rest In Peace.

Christmas Wishes and New Year's Resolutions

2007-12-12T10:56:00.000+08:00

Only God knows what my Christmas wish is this year, and I'm not telling. It helps that as the years went by, I've seen my grown up Christmas list (for myself) dwindle in terms of material possessions. Materially, I am content. I don't feel the need to splurge on the latest tech stuff or designer bags, as I used to come Christmas season. So maybe I should jump onto my partial New Year's resolutions instead:

1. Do not upgrade techie things in '08.

I am a complete klutz with my phone, which is why starting 2 years ago, I refused to buy any phone more than 10,000. I end up leaving it lying around, dropping it (or recently, intentionally banging my sun cellphone out of sheer frustration over their horrible network). As of late, it has been doused with a number of liquids, wine and chocolate included, making me wonder about the state. Nonetheless, I've decided NOT to buy a phone this year, since my last purchase was january of 2007, maybe my next one can be in jan 2009, or whenever my phone gives up on me, whichever comes first. Same goes for my 2 year old digital camera, laptop, ipod... NO UPGRADING.

2. Be more adventurous- in the outdoors.

My friends can attest to the fact that I am not an outdoorsy or sporty person. I hate sneakers and only own 2 pairs of rubber shoes out of sheer necessity (Denzell got me the other one, with hopes of converting me). I back out of excursions and even cringe when I hear words like hiking, climbing, biking, running, etc. However, as proven last November in Cagayan de Oro, I totally enjoyed white water rafting and playing tarzan in the jungle. I also realized last May that I actually like diving (sans the expense!)... So hopefully, I can pursue something more... adventurous this year, so I can unleash the inner animal (monkey) in me.

3. Be frugal.

Although I have never found myself to be in debt, I know I need to improve more in this area. I am such a shopaholic, and it does not help that several of my good friends are clothing, bag and shoe designers. A chunk of my monthly income really does go to them almost consistently... Sigh, you know who you are -friends! So yeah, I have to curb that, considering that my closet space has long been insufficient that I had to start using up my brother and sister's closets (Canada based- thus the empty closets!)

Another area that needs frugality is my choice of places to eat. See, I love food, and I love enjoying good restaurants. Unfortunately, most of the good restaurants with good quality food is expensive, so next year, I should limit that to special occasions only. :P

4. Think more.

I tend to be quite the impulsive person when making decisions and reacting to situations... I think I ought to think more, react less, and save myself the drama and stress that comes with making bad decisions and overreacting.

5. Listen more, talk less.

Ever wonder why we were born with 2 ears and 1 mouth only???

6. Pray more.

The power of prayer truly is amazing. But I'm not praying only because of certain things I want to happen. There is something about praying that has a very calming effect, and I honestly believe that everyone should pray more. But I should start with myself first.

For now, these are some of my resolutions. I thought of writing them down early to get a head start on them (hopefully not crash shopping before 2007 comes to a close) ;)

The Season

2007-12-03T14:08:00.000+08:00

A few days ago, while walking outdoors deep into the night, I realized how chilly the night air had become. Gazing around me, I saw houses and buildings bedecked with the trimmings of Christmas. I should have known Christmas was just around the corner, me, who had been ready with lists and presents since October. However, I cannot help but feel a little wistful. It is after all my 28th Christmas now (my first when I was just 8 months old). After all the years, all my Christmas memories have become so entangled that it is almost impossible for me to say which year was which.

One Christmas in particular stands out...

It was 2002. My first white Christmas, in a not so white country. I was in Beijing, China, attending the Fall-Winter semester at BLCU, and it was my first Christmas away from my family. Deep down, I thought how fun it would be, being away from home and my family. But it proved to be difficult, in a country where Christmas is celebrated by a handful (most of whom were foreigners such as us). In China, Christmas is an ordinary day, in which you are required to come to class, or attend work just like an ordinary day. I, however, rebelled at the thought of not celebrating Christmas. So, instead of a Christmas tree, I got myself a wreath to hang on my door and found myself shopping for Christmas gifts from IKEA and the flea market. After class on Christmas Eve, a bunch of us went to the Canadian Embassy for Christmas service, after which we herded ourselves to a forgettable (but expensive) restaurant that served watery risotto for dinner. It was a cold and snowy night. I remember holding on to a friend while walking to keep warm and avoid slipping on frozen ice. Back at the apartment, me and my roomies sang Christmas carols, greeted each other a merry christmas, and went to bed. The next day, we woke up late and deliberately skipped class. I had lunch with my cousin, my only relative in China, at least to feel the semblance of being home, and went to the mall thereafter with my friends...

Looking back, I can say that it wasn't the best Christmas I've ever had, but probably the most memorable. It taught me a valuable lesson which I try to remember every year. Christmas is not just about the trimmings, the presents and the more frequent dinners and get togethers, Christmas is about love and communion, hope and acceptance, but moreso, something each of us carries anywhere we go. One thing I was most thankful for, was that in the very country where Christianity is forbidden, that Christmas was when I truly found myself seeking for God, and finding Him. It is ironic to find God amidst a populace that does not believe He exists. Nonetheless, that is what exactly happened, and I am eternally grateful, and humbled by that memory.

It's been awhile since...

2007-11-21T11:00:00.000+08:00

...I've written something here.

Ever since I deleted my other blog, somehow, I've limited my entries to conform to my more serious and deeper theme of this blog, and since it requires my having to reflect, gather my thoughts and the like, such is a painstaking task I would rather not subject myself to.

...I've gone out with friends.

Okay, Okay, I know that not having a boyfriend in town is not an excuse to keep myself cooped up in my house, or at the restaurant, or simply with family and friends. I just feel so lazy to get involved in the logistics of going out. Yes, yes, going out has its logistics as well, from transportation, to venue, to what to wear, what to pair it with etc etc. Fortunately, some well meaning friends of mine are dragging my butt out of the house this weekend. Thank you guys. I find myself looking forward to the ultimate Chocolate Martini.

...I've had an entire day to myself

A day normally starts out with errands, work, class (if there is), work, restaurant work, home. Squeezing in a quick massage, facial, manicure or pedicure is already a big bonus for that day. Come to think of it, I have never really had the chance to devote AN ENTIRE DAY for myself. Back in college, one of my favorite teachers, Rica Santos, advised us to have an "Artists' Day" wherein we devote a whole day to ourselves with no companions whatsoever. I suppose its about time I tried that out. I'm burning out without me even knowing it.

...I've written a not so narcissistic post

but hey, this is my blog right? Enough said.

WARNING: Depressing Post Ahead

2007-09-17T15:24:00.000+08:00

I'm 27 and I am in the crossroads.

How can one person be so sure as to what he or she does NOT want and what he or she wants, but become so unsure as to what to do next? I know what I want to do for the remainder of my life. But I lack the courage to see it through.. Does that make me a coward or just plain stupid? There are so many options, I know I am lucky, that all I have to do is choose.

I feel as if I am just walking on air, going through the motions of sleeping, waking, eating, doing what has to be done, all in a zombie-like fashion with some kind of adrenalin that makes me appear normal, happy, fulfilled- and all the positive feelings which a girl my age feels. Is this my teenage angst coming to the surface so late in my life? Or is it just early stages of depression commonly felt by similar women my age who have come to what they call as the "quarterlife crisis". I recently bought myself two "feel good self help" books, both of which are slowly gathering dust on my bedside, in my denial to read thru them.

The irony is that, just a few months ago, I thought I had myself and my life all figured out, complete with a five year plan. Only to have to realize that the plan was built on shaky foundation and therefore had to rebuild again.

The only thing I'm certain of involves the matters of my heart. That is perhaps the one thing keeping me going now.

I am trying to enjoy the ride, being on the brink of insanity and this emotional roller coaster of my life is the one thing that I know is real.

Free

2007-09-11T11:25:00.000+08:00

I am in the crossroads of my life. I want to accomplish so many things, run in so many directions, only to wake up the next day with a numbed feeling. I think to myself, what really makes me happy in this life....

the answer is really and truly simple.

I want to be independent. I want to be free. But then, there are consequences to that, and whether I am ready or not, I need to jump and let the wind carry me to whatever destination.

and I am ready for that.

I truly am.

Fear is the Absence of Peace

2007-06-08T10:59:00.000+08:00

At the funeral mass I attended the other night, the priest said something which set the tone for my reflections over the last few days. He asked us what we thought was the opposite of peace. Many said "War was the opposite of peace" while some said that chaos was the answer. But both answers proved to be wrong. I was shaken when he said that ultimately, the opposite of peace was FEAR. Fear of not knowing leads to chaos and disorder. Fear leads people to do things that would gravitate towards war.

Looking back at my own life, I have always been a fearful person. People close to me have said that my worst quality would be that I am a very paranoid person, always worrying about things. I suppose I always thought that my worrying over the littlest things is what would somehow bring order to my world. I was dead wrong.

People left and right have been telling me to let go. To stop being a control freak and to stop worrying what will happen if I stop worrying over the most trivial things. The world will not stop turning if I stop giving a damn about things.

My fears have been blocking peace from prevailing in my life. I know that now. I also am in the process of learning that I have to believe in people more and the abilities and strengths of those around me.

Ah life- what would I have become had I been stuck to what I always thought was right?

The Birth of a Soul

2007-06-06T11:57:00.001+08:00

A month and a half ago, my good friend Chester's dad passed away after a long and courageous battle with cancer. He was 59.

Last Saturday, our family friend, Tito Gerry Gabuya, died after a massive heart attack struck him without prior warning. He was 58.

A few weeks ago, the mom of another close friend of ours was diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer and is now undergoing chemo treatments.

I know that death is inevitable. But I still get shaken everytime it hits closer and closer. I pray to God everyday about my death... the whens and hows. I pray to God to give me courage to accept the deaths occuring around me and more courage to prepare losing those I love the most. At times, I pray for the convenience of going ahead of those I love, only to chastise myself for my cowardice.

I keep asking, "Why them God???" only to take it back, fearing that I have condemned others to die by questioning the death of someone I knew.

I realize that at the end of the day, what I CAN pray for is peace. Peace for the families of those who are suffering from losses. Peace for those who are struggling to live. And peace for myself, so that I can finally accept and truly believe that we all have to die in order for our souls to live forever.

A Life Well Lived

2007-04-12T15:23:00.000+08:00

Almost ten years ago, during my senior year in high school, I was given the task of writing about a young girl from ICA, my alma mater who passed away over the summer. Writing about her story changed my life so much and opened my eyes to many things in life. I remembered her suddenly after having dinner with her brother, and my dear friend, Paul, whom I met a couple of years after having written that article.

In the tenth year since her passing, I want to honor her life, her family and loved ones. Though I have never met her, I feel a certain closeness to her whenever I reread the article I wrote for the school newspaper almost 10 years ago. Indeed, there are things in life which we take forgranted- such beautiful things that can only be beautiful because of God's presence. Writing about her changed my life forever- it made me appreciate the beauty of life and of Creation, it gave meaning to the words "pride" and "forgiveness" and never leaving fights unresolved. If anything, it made me "feel" my faith, not through how I manifest it only in prayer and worship, but rather in how I can truly feel God inside me. God was with me when I wrote that piece. I knew it then, I know it now.

Her name was Elaine. This is her story.

A WALK WITH JESUS: IN MEMORY OF ELAINE MARIE CUASO
(Icalettes-June 1997)

Most of us look at death with fearful and shielded eyes. It is that window of life which we never dare look into. It is something that we have not yet come to terms with, something we have not fully accepted. We would like to think of ourselves and our loved ones as invincible, and that we would live for as long as we would wish to. For a lot of people who have not felt the pain of having lost somebody, death is something far away, something unreachable. For Elaine Marie Cuaso, death meant only one thing: going home to Jesus.

Elaine Marie Cuaso was born on August 28, 1983. Her birth was sheer joy to her parents, Edwin and Emily. Aside from being an only girl, Elaine was also the youngest among three children. However, she was not spoiled. She was a normal child as she was growing up. Naughty and sometimes disobedient, in ways every growing girl is familiar with, but very cheerful. In fact, if there was anything Elaine carried on through her growing years, it was her bright and sunny disposition both at home, at school and even as she was sick. Her smile was described to be contagious. Anyone who sat beside her in class or hung out with her during break times found it irresistible not to laugh along with her or join in the fun she was projecting. It is obvious that she was very well liked and accepted not only among her peers, but by her classmates and teachers as well. She was a trendsetter, never afraid to stand up for what she wanted or for what she believed in. But even as she was like that, she never felt bad or held a grudge on teachers when they told her off. Her teachers describe her as a bubbly and levelheaded girl. She loved Twin Popsies (orange-flavored), the song “Sometimes When We Touch,” dancing, and fashion. She was a normal teenager with average grades and excellent math skills, until something terrible happened to her, something all of us dread to have.

Elaine developed leukemia just before her year in Grade 6 ended. At first, both her and her parents were discreet about her sickness. It was only after a few months that her friends found out about the disease which was already starting to take course on her body system. “It hurts,” Elaine confided to a friend. “I feel so tired… even lying down makes me tired.” But what inspired Elaine to go on despite her suffering was her faith in Jesus. Her mother would often tell her that was she was going through was the same thing that Jesus went through. “Jesus never did anything to anyone, except manifest His love to everyone… and yet He died because it simply was His time.” Somehow, this comparison made Elaine accept her sickness and made her face that challenges that she was forced to undergo each day. When in pain, Elaine never complained because she knew how worried and sad her mother would be if she did. It was at this point in time when her relationship with her parents strengthened and run deeper. “She referred to her mom and herself as bread and butter,” a friend said. Every night, her father would come home extra early from work just to be able to spend time with her. And every night, at eight o’ clock, Elaine, her parents, and her brothers would pray. She would pray for everyone but herself. She offered a decade of the rosary for her friends, her parents, brothers and relatives, but never for herself. What could be a more selfless act than this?

If there is anything th ICAns should learn from Elaine, it would be her strong and unending faith in the Lord. She left everything to Him, entrusted her life to Him, and made Him the center of her life. “Her faith in God was instilled to her both in the school and home,” Sr. Dina said. True, for it was because of her religion classes and because of the strong faith her parents already had that Elaine found solace and comfort in the Lord. “Elaine is a model for all of us; a woman of faith and service,” Sr. Dina adds. Elaine’s determination and optimism are the two things, aside from her faith, that kept her going. She was brave until the end. She never cursed her sickness or questioned God for making her suffer so much. She was so full of life! But even if she wanted to live so much, she knew in her heart that this was her call, and she took it with her whole heart. So, on May 22, 1997, she quietly passed away.

Fifteen days before Elaine died, she wrote a letter to her mom that went this way:

Honestly mom, I don’t feel good. My lips are numb, my eyes tired, my back hurts, my head’s heavy, my gums weak, my bones brittle, my hearing’s weird, but even though with all this pains and sufferings, I don’t know where I get my strength to even play jokes or laugh, or to even smile. God is really with me. Mom, that’s the biggest gift He can ever give me. He loves me, I love him too. I love you.

There came a time when I asked myself where Elaine could possibly be. Then I thought about the three words she had said before she died. Those three magic words that spoke volumes as to where she is right now. Elaine’s last three words were, “Jesus… Jesus… Jesus…” That is why we need not wonder where she went. She is merely talking a walk with the Lord.

Melancholic in Mindanao

2007-03-06T13:11:00.000+08:00

At one point in his or her life, a person stops, thinks and reflects about his and her life and comes to terms with many things.

I suppose I am referring to myself. Lately, I have been questioning every little aspect of my life. From the simple existential question- “Why am I here?” to a more proactive and productive question- “What is my purpose in this world?” to finally the most overused question in the world- “What am I to do with the rest of my life?” I wonder if these questions come with the aging process, as I reluctantly turn 27 in less than two months. Truth be told, I am not quite ready to be 27 just yet. I am not ready to live up to the expectations and responsibilities that come with that age. Perhaps it is just a number, like all other numbers in our lives, but when I look at what I’ve done and accomplished in my life, I cringe at the time and opportunities that may have gone to waste. Does this negativity have something to do with how I compare myself and my accomplishments to others around me? Am I being thrown into the pressures of conformity and being pressures to join the rat race commonly known to man as “life”?

I speak from the bottom of my heart and soul. I speak without the angst of a confused teenager but with the sorrow of a woman possibly going through a quarter life crisis. I know I must come up with answers that is not as simple as having to go through therapy, where the most common question asked by most therapists again and again is the question- “So…How do you feel about that?” I have been scaring myself with nightly sob sessions with my pillow, my dog and at times, my poor boyfriend, and then waking up all sore from the lack of sleep with a dull ache in my heart and the desire to weep once more. But in the mornings, while the sun is up, I know I cannot weep, but brave yet another day which takes me closer and closer to my 27th birthday. Is this the artist in me? The drama queen in most people who was forced to do or be a lot of things that he or she did not necessarily want in the first place? I know I have no one to blame for my conformity and complacency but myself. Perhaps all these years, it was courage I lacked. Courage to listen to MY inner voice, because now that I try to listen for that voice, all I get is the cold sound of silence. My inner voice has escaped me, and I’ve missed it so much.

So I decided to take the easy way out and flee. Not too far away, but far enough not to have to see the people I see and speak to everyday. Is temporary distance the solution and answer to my issues? I have yet to find out. Tomorrow I may head out into a place where I can think. Where nature is at its full glory. Where the grass meets the sky and where spirituality is at its rawest state. I am in dire search of answers, and maybe I will find them when I search for God in Bukidnon.

Obligations

2006-11-07T12:34:00.000+08:00

Have you ever wondered what the world would be like without obligations? That maybe, without these obligations, we would be freer to do things as we please, at any time, and at any place? However wouldn't that result to chaos and disorder in the long run? Then again, are these obligations that we speak of related to the general order of the world in the larger way? And if so, HOW are they related?

I am thinking out loud again, and I find myself in a puzzle. If I choose to ignore my obligations, such as my work, my travel plans this week and my teaching job next week and just take off and literally let the wind carry me to my next destination- what would happen? Let's see, I probably wouldn't get fired by my dad, though I would get a scolding for wasting perfectly arranged plane tickets for two. As for Ateneo, yes, I probably would be replaced if I failed to return for a number of unannounced days. At home, things would run well without me. My perfectly trained and capable sister Tina could help my mom run the household and do my chores, and my siblings realistically can take care of my dog while I am away. Then again, I would probably also be scolded for just taking off unscheduled.

At the end of it all, the answer is quite clear, I can choose to ignore my so-called obligations, and life around me will still run the way it was designed to. The next question is whether or not I want to let go of them. Then again, who wants to be burdened by these obligations that leave us tired and weary most of the time?

The answer is simple. We all want it. You do, I do, We all do. Whether its reasons of self-importance or self-growth or the numerous other reasons out there, obligations give people a sense of well-being, but more than that, a sense of fulfilment. And it is when we are fulfiled that we are sated.

Now, having said all that, I think it all boils down to choosing our obligations. It is no longer choosing whether we want to perform our obligations, but choosing obligations per se be it moral or social obligations. I ask myself this time, whether I choose to involve myself in obligations with regard to serving God. The automatic answer would be "yes!! I attend Sunday masses!"- but does that really suffice? (especially if hypothetically I spent the majority of the Mass thinking about other things)

The thing is, I want to involve God in all my obligations. And yes, it is perfectly doable and possible. And it is something I want and I'm writing about because I want to be reminded of it each time I whine, complain or ponder about yet another obligation. My obligations will only have meaning if God is involved, and it will only have fulfilment if accomplished with God.

I can only pray for the success of this endeavor.

Old Friends, New Friends

2006-11-06T16:59:00.000+08:00

"Make new friends but keep the old,
those are silver while these are gold..."

Making my Christmas lists every year is always something I look forward to, because this is the time I get to sift over my friends and divide them according to groups, i.e. high school, college, beijing, post-beijing, aim friends, cdo friends etc etc. It was only this year that I realized that I have gone on several phases of my life and in each phase, I was blessed to have specific groups of friends whom I get close to and meet up with from time to time.

There is something that has to be said about Old Friends... these are those who have been with you from early on, and who have seen you at your worst and ugliest moments of your life (remember puberty?)... these are friends who may be separated from you either by distance, or simply because you went to different colleges and therefore, different paths since then, but when you meet up regardless of the number of months, or years, you feel no awkwardness, no strange feelings of uncertainty and doubt. These are your buddies for life, and the best moment would be reuniting with an Old Friend.

Take my high school friend Tonee for example- all through college and even post college, I can say that she was perhaps the high school kabarkada of mine whom I saw least. I saw and communicated with our friends in the States even more than I did with her (and she lives 10 minutes away from me). But recently, a couple of months ago, we started going out again, and its just so nice to rekindle past friendships, especially those that have existed for more than half your life. Even my Beijing sister and room mate Didi was an Old Friend who I lost touch with in college but whom I was pleasantly reunited with when I needed a room mate in Beijing.

There are New Friends too, who are just as important and special. These are friends who know us as we are now but who make the bestest friends simply because of the shared joys and consistencies of friendship.

I suppose I can say that I am really quite fortunate with my friends. I may not have dozens of friends and hundreds of options in my phonebook, but I do have solid friends who I know I can always count on time and time again.

These are the friends who matter. These are friendships that were built to last.

You know who you are, I love you guys.

The Art of Goodbyes

2006-11-02T22:43:00.000+08:00

I think I learned something valuable today.

Taking stock of my life so far, I realized that most of it was lived in an altogether sheltered life. I never had to want for many things. Materially, things were just always there for me. It was not that difficult for me to gain friends and go through the stages of life. I never had angst and depression plague my life, nor did I have extreme fits of rebellion of any kind. I never was one who threw tantrums, and although my very patient and sane boyfriend can attest to the fact that I do have some psychotic moments (full blame on PMS), I was normal, and straight.

One thing I could not ever master though, was the art of saying goodbye, albeit temporarily. I call saying goodbye an art because there are thousands of ways of saying goodbye. I don't think that there is one exact manner in which a person or two persons say goodbye to each other. Therefore, if there are 8 billion people in this world, imagine 8 billion ways of saying goodbye. My parents taught me many things in my life, but saying goodbye was not one of them. I always either rushed through my goodbyes (as not to cry), or lingered over it too long (thus causing my tear ducts to overflow). Nonetheless, it was goodbye. For now, for a day, for a week, or even for ever.

My boyfriend left today for 25 days. Of course we have been apart far longer than that (once or twice). But what I realized was that I never could get over the first day quite so smoothly. I have teary moments, scary moments, poignant and happy moments and even prayerful moments. After today, they may lessen and fade as day 24 and 25 creep by, to be replaced instead by anticipation and excitement.

So what did I learn today? Hmm... I'm learning not to be pakipot in admitting that I do and will miss my beloved a lot. (and I'm not talking about Oreo!)

Have fun though, for both of us!

Why I Love Your Birthday

2006-10-25T11:22:00.000+08:00

I love birthdays.

But would you believe that I love celebrating other people's birthdays a lot more than my own? I find so much joy in planning or helping plan for a friend's birthday celebration, or a family members' celebration. But for me, planning for the birthday of the one I love is the best among them all.

I love waiting for the days to come nearer to the actual date, love the challenge of choosing a gift, or gifts which I think he would like. I love planning the venue for our dinner date (yes, we have a deal that our birthday celebration with each other will not consist of other people and will take place- free of charge for the celebrant- in his or my favorite restaurant). Most of all, I love the day itself, because I feel as if it were my birthday too, and I think I'm even happier than he is...

So tomorrow, my dearly beloved one- You turn another year older, and hopefully another year wiser. And even if I do believe that everyday should be spent as if it were our last- therefore spent wisely and happily, tomorrow, your birthday is a date I will forever hold dear.

I love your birthday because it was the day God brought you into the world, and therefore, to me.

When the dust bites

2006-10-06T08:53:00.000+08:00

Yesterday morning, a batchmate of mine from college passed away.

Her name was Donna, and we were not what you would call great friends, but at one point, we were Philo groupmates and we've worked together in other projects as well. After college, there was zero contact whatsoever, except occasional sightings in malls or events, followed by the expected nod and smile of recognition.

And then, all of a sudden, all is gone.

Why her death (and illness) makes such an impact to me today is a mystery. I spent a huge amount of time the other day going through her Friendster page and looking at her pictures. I recalled her vibrant nature, her easygoing and friendly self and the extent of her intelligence. I said a short prayer then, asking for a miracle of sorts, so that she may resume her seemingly happy life with her family and loved ones.

But it was not to be so.

Some of Donna's friends are my close friends as well, and seeing their loss is as painful to me as if it were my loss as well. Why did God choose to take her, in particular, when she seemed to have had such a bright and promising future ahead of her? Why did he take away someone who was loved by many, and therefore grieved by many who up to this day cannot fathom the extent of their loss?

How ironic, that the few classes I had with Donna were classes on the Philosophy of Man, where we were taught that essentially, man was a soul, and that even as the body dies, the soul lives on. Donna was her soul. She did not die when seizures brought about by the sudden mass in her head killed any chances of brain survival. In many ways, perhaps her soul was liberated even at that moment, and will continue to live on until memories of the living Donna fade away into a myth.

There are of course, lessons to be learned. That life is, and always will be unpredictably futile, for we will never know if this moment is our last, or our loved one's last. We will never know if the last kiss we gave our parents or boyfriends/girlfriends would have been the last. Lesson number one: Live each day as if it were your last. The cliche is terribly present in that statement but it is also, terribly REAL. Lesson number two: Forgive and make peace. Say no to unfinished arguments, or sleeping with guilt ridden minds. Say no to the temptations of pride and selfishness that have been primary causes of war, devastation and loss.

The last lesson is the simple act of saying hello to people you come across, no matter how near or far they are. I remember the last time I saw Donna from a distance, a couple of months ago, in a mall. I remember exactly what she was wearing (a Cole Vintage dress and bag made by a common friend) and was contemplating whether I should go up and say hello. But before I made up my mind, she was gone. And I never got to say my last hello.

I am haunted, not by what has passed on, but by what is left in store. I feel unsettled and sorrowful, but perhaps, this is a good thing.

Perhaps this is what I need to truly be able to be freed from the bondage of these fleeting moments we call life.

Back Then

2006-09-27T11:17:00.000+08:00

I wrote the essay below as part of my business plan in AIM, wow... that long ago...

In my almost one and a half years at the Asian Institute of Management, I know I can truly say, without a doubt, that both me and my enterprise have come a really long way from when we first began. I was a neophyte, both in terms of being an entrepreneur, running my own program, and in trying to be a social entrepreneur.

Now that I look back on that fateful day at Prof. Ferreria’s office, after enduring 2 and a half hours of an interview that took others a mere 20-30 minutes, with both my parents and my would-be mentor, Prof. Lisa Dacanay, it seems that ages had passed since I made that commitment that would change my life forever.

While in college, I had never planned on being a social entrepreneur, and in no way wanted to join the family business. I took up Humanities at the Ateneo and was all set to be either a pre-school owner or a lawyer. Either way, I knew I wanted to serve either kids or oppressed women in society. Nonetheless, I needed a break first. I deferred my enrollment at the Ateneo Law School for another year, heeded the advice of my parents and left for Beijing, China to spend 5 months on my own, to learn how to be independent while learning Chinese at the same time.

China was more than an eye-opener, it was a soul-opener. Many people probably do not understand why my experience there evoked such deep changes in me. I blossomed, grew up and matured. I knew I wanted more than pre-school and law (although they were both perfectly good options), but I was waiting for that “calling”. While in wait, I deeply conversed with God, my parents and other people close to my heart. I came home after 5 months, and decided to try working for the family business while “in wait”. A month after my return, my parents suggested I enroll at the AIM for their Masters Degree in Entrepreneurship. I was quick to accept their offer and immediately set out to prepare for my interview.

I remember going to the interview not knowing what business I was going to enroll, or what exactly I needed to fulfill to complete the course. Both my parents were with me, supposedly to offer moral support and assure Prof. Ferreria that they were relinquishing whatever necessary control it was needed to fulfill my obligations for the course. When the subject of MicroFinancing came up as an option, my heart started beating furiously. It was my father’s dream, one that I researched and read about prior to the interview, but one I was fearful to start up. I knew there were risks with working with the poor especially if the system was all wrong. However, I agreed with everything it stood for, and empathized with the plight of the entrepreneurial poor.

Before I knew it, Prof. Ferreria called in Prof. Lisa Dacanay and we then discussed my going into the MESODEV (Masters Degree in Entrepreneurship for Social and Development Entrepreneurs) Program as an option. Suddenly, the idea of staying within ME alone was not as appealing anymore. So when Prof. Ferreria and Dacanay asked me which it was going to be, I bravely chose what I have come to fondly know as the “road less traveled”, where I would be able to release my idealism in making a difference in helping the poor while making a profit.

Little did I know how naïve I was.

On July 8, 2003, MCC MicroFinance was formally launched. The systems were in place and the staff hired. It was, also my first day at AIM. All at once, I felt like an outcast in my class. Here I was, one of the youngest in the batch, and the youngest in the MESODEV class, rubbing elbows with pastors, NGO and Cooperative members who seemed to have a genetically implanted “social-development” cells in their bloodstream!

The first semester made me feel like I was groping in the dark, searching for answers to my seemingly never-ending questions. I knew I had an option to move to ME, but that would mean cowardice on my part, and I knew I had to go on. After one particularly fruitful guruing session, I felt inspired, excited and motivated. So I worked with a passion I never knew I had, and as I discovered new ways to develop the program further, I felt my myopic view of the world widen. I stopped looking at myself as a mere operations manager but rather as a woman with a vision and a cause to fight for and a “Promised Land” that awaited me at the end of my vision. All of a sudden, my relationship with my classmates improved as I began to see the value of sharing my dreams with them, my zeal in working toward my mission was working its way toward the hearts of my staff and the homes of my beneficiaries- and as a big bonus- Prof. Dacanay saw that positive change and went as far as to give me a Commendation for it!

It is only that I write this that I realize what prompted me to change and grow dramatically. My growth was not something that came at a snap of a finger. Growth came with awareness of who I was and what I COULD do and HAD to do out there; Growth was humility in realizing that I was not the only one who had a dream for the poor- that I was one of many people in and outside my class who had such dreams as well and were much more capable than I was in getting there; Growth was when I had to deal with my first past-due account, the first anomaly in the daily collections, the first “sit-down” experienced by my staff and when I had to terminate one of our team leaders for inefficiency; Most importantly, growth came in the form of my realizing that I was not going through this simply to get the grade, to please my parents or for additional lines in my resume, I knew I grew when it finally dawned on me that I was in this for my beneficiaries. It was only after I fully understood and experienced all those that I achieved mastery of myself, of the situation I am in, and mastery of my enterprise.

I am a late bloomer in the social development world. I know I made several errors and miscalculations along the way, and know that I will continue to do so as I go on, but I can quite confidently say that everything will fall into place. How could it not? I have been blessed to have had this “calling”, to have supportive parents, staff and not to mention, an AIM education all under my belt. Moreover, I know I will never run out of people who will join me in my journey, either as partners, beneficiaries or friends, and I wholeheartedly am thankful to have found some of those within and through my experiences at AIM.

Right now, I cannot help but look back at our first day in AIM, when we were all made to choose a symbol that best describes us. I remember clearly that I chose a grape to embody me. It is in the nature of a grape to eventually be transformed into wine. I find it quite amusing that even then, I was able to innocently position myself as an “input/grape” and “output/wine”. AIM was part of that transforming unit that prunes me, and makes “wine” out of me, and though I am far from being that quality wine which connoisseurs pay a premium for, I know that someday, I will be.

Until then, the pruning and the ageing goes on.

Happiest Days

2006-07-17T14:54:00.000+08:00

I might as well conclude this whole trilogy which was not meant to be one but somehow became one by saying that all is now well with regard to my previous entries. Not that its all perfect... which brings me to my title, happiest days. I decided to somewhat honor my happiest days by giving them a portion of this blog to quietly commemorate those events and thank God for giving me those particular days as answers to my prayer. I may not remember exact dates but i will try for the sake of validation...

1. september 1996- my Days with the Lord experience.

2. july 1997- the weekend I served as rector for Batch 38 of Days with the Lord.

3. march 23, 2002- graduation from ateneo- with honors!! (considering I was never an honor student in ica and had to even take summer classes at one time for flunking math for one whole year)

4. january 7, 2003- beijing, china. enough said.

5. july 2003- when the business i put together started its operations.

6. october 21, 2004- my parents' silver wedding anniversary, because love was so present in my family that day.

7. december 11, 2004- graduation from AIM (because of the sweat, tears and panic I put into writing my business plan which I thought would never end)

8. july 2, 2005- because i saw my best friend joy (after four or five years of not having seen each other)

9. today, tomorrow and the rest of my life- because I believe that every day should be lived as if it were my last, and I'd always like to remember previous days as my happiest days.

Cheers!

Happy-er days

2006-07-11T17:48:00.000+08:00

After rereading my entry yesterday, I realized how vague and lost I sounded and how it may sound to people who read it. To quell any notions that my lovelife is in disarray, I'm happy to report that yours truly and her beloved are quite fine at the moment, actually, very fine if I must say. The object of my profound sadness yesterday and the past weekend was actually one of my parents, thus sending me to such states of uncertainty and melancholy.

Nonetheless, I have got to move on. After all apologies have been made, I suppose what is left for me to do is basically to just try and be a better daughter in the future and hope that does it. Nothing will come out of my obsessive observations and heavy feelings of dread and some sort of loss.

As a wise and more experienced person told me- this is only temporary.

Here's to happy-er days to come...

Happy days??

2006-07-10T15:55:00.000+08:00

Having someone give you the cold shoulder is one of the heaviest feelings you can have. Especially if they are people close to you- like your family, relatives, friends and loved ones. Its like you suddenly feel like the world is crushing you with its heaviness and you are unable to focus on things..

One of the things I must learn is to do is to move on. It's more practical to do so, lest time gets wasted, emotions and even health at some point.

But taking the first step is hard.

Fear in the Form of Heights

2006-06-07T16:48:00.000+08:00

A wise (ahem! ahem!) person once told me that Bravery was not when one chooses to act on something without fear but rather it is when one acts on something with fear.

Given this therefore, what is bravery in the context of climbing a steep mountain on foot? For people like those mountaineers who just topped climbing Everest (hats off to you guys!!), they will probably say that they're not afraid of heights and go on with their climb. But what about those like me who are frightened of even the thought of falling off the mountain but chooses to climb anyway despite the fear?

It is characteristic of me to be afraid of many things. I fear disorder, chaos, failure and defeats. I fear the thought of even disappointing or letting someone down. I fear snakes, the eventuality of a fire, death etc. Even the littlest things like heights and missing an appointment or being late for anything (okay that is kind of OC there...) I wonder therefore if there is anything left for me to fear.

BUT- my fears don't necessarily make me a coward. What would define cowardice would be precisely my decision to act on things despite my fears, or do otherwise.

The best feeling would be the feeling of absolute fulfilment after having "conquered" a particular fear by being brave and sticking it out there. Sure, doing something you are afraid of is not a hundred percent safe... I could very well fall off the mountain right? But- in that same way, I could trip on my shoelace and hit my head on the pavement and die anyway right? (hmmm getting kind of morbid here... hehe) My point being- that at the end of the day, it would almost always be better to conquer one fear at a time, despite the risks and expectations, rather than wait for the fear to pass you by. Because fear never lapses on its own. You don't wake up one day not being afraid of scratching your knees when you bike- your fear dissipates when you wake up, get on your bike- and just....bike, with or without the scratched knees.

I don't know about you, but I would rather be bruised and beaten knowing I tried, than forever wonder what could've been had I not let the opportunity pass me by.

Oh and by the way? Heights don't fear me as much anymore as it did. I'm sure you get my drift.

Fight Club

2006-05-17T15:58:00.000+08:00

"Freedom is fought for and won, not granted."

My dad once shared with me his really good definition of freedom, and I really believe it. As parents, its very difficult to give a child his or her independence at any age. In my family, its not a matter of whether you are 18, or 21 or even 26. At this age, I still have a lot of things I cannot do (and will never be allowed to do) as long as I am single. Some which are reasonable, and the others, bordering on paranoia (of my parents).

I have tried everything possible to change this system. I've fought, whined, complained, questioned, but still get the same blank answers. Until I realized that my freedom is not solely based on what my parents are giving me (little teaspoonfulls at a time), but rather what I build for myself and work toward.

First step, I need to grow up. I need to remove my rose colored glasses and see the world as it is. I need to curb my needless urges to buy the latest this and buy that and start thinking about putting my earnings toward something that will yield more in the long run. I have to stop living excessively- such as ordering too much food in restaurants, buying 2 pairs of jeans when i only need one, or buying lunches everyday when there are days that I can just bring food to work.

Next step, I need to assess where I am and decide if this is where I want to be. Compared to a lot of people in my generation, I'm lucky that my dad has a business he needs help running, and I'm lucky that it is something that I actually find interesting and challenging and that I don't wake up each day dreading work. I can't do one thing and dream of doing one million things at the same time. I need to focus more and procrastinate less.

Lastly, I think I need to stop worrying about what people say about me and tell me to do and start believing in what I feel and think about myself. If certain people don't like the way I think, look and do things, that should be their problem and not mine. Life is too short for me to be living it according to how other people want it to be.

How funny. These are things that are trivial to a lot of people and certainly not new to me. But this is the first time I'm saying these to myself and actually putting them in writing. Yes yes yes, it is easier said than done. But as I say to my friends around me, it's just a matter of taking baby steps one day at a time. One fight at a time. One goal at a time.

My World

2006-05-10T13:14:00.000+08:00

I think I've hit a monstrous slump.

Yes, I know it may just be PMS, but why do I feel as if its more than that? All my life, I've lived according to standards and structures. I had no choice while growing up. I had responsibilities then which were uncommon for people my age. At my early teens, I was doing errands on my own, groceries, house stuff, helping with the kids and the house. I had to do my share of the work, with four younger siblings who were far in age.

I became very obsessed with structures. I planned everything in advance. From the littlest things such as what to wear the next day, to what pages to study for the day, to my route in school (from the caf to the library etc), to roads (I'm an awful backseat driver), what to eat, etc etc. If things didn't go according to the structure I set out for myself, I freaked out and thought that the world would end there and then. In short, I became inflexible, stubborn and a control freak.

That all changed when I went to China. I was free. Nothing dictated my life. I was free to plan my day. I could wake up anytime I wanted and not feel guilty. I was free to decide whether I should make my bed, have breakfast or not, or when to do laundry and housework. I was free, free, free. And boy, did it feel so DAMN good!

But like all good things, that had to end. I was asked to come home after that semester and work for the family business. As an eldest daughter, I felt dutybound. I cancelled my enrollment to Law School, declined a job offer from a prestigious accounting/consulting firm and enrolled in a business school to learn the necessary skills in business which I did not have in college.

As it was, I finished my Masters Degree, started a new branch in my dad's business from scratch, and that was that.

Now, I feel as if I'm floating. It isn't a question on whether I know what I'm doing because I can go on and on explaining and teaching people what it is exactly that I do. It's just that I expected much more for myself. I wanted pressure, deadlines, busy days and a challenging workplace. As the head of the program with my dad as the boss, I don't feel that pressure. Credit it to the fact that our business is based in Mindanao (mine in Cagayan de Oro), the work ethics of people there are annoyingly different. Slowness, idleness and inefficiency, along with the lack of initiative are prevalent among people over there. But you do get the most loyal people in provinces, and that's a proven fact.

So now, I'm just confused. My family is migrating to Canada in the next few years and I just don't want to go with them. I've spent all my life doing what's been expected of me, that save for the few months in China, I never really got to live a life that is mine, and mine alone.

I know that there are some people there who would tell me to count my blessings, because I'm lucky to have what I have. Maybe I'm stupid for questioning it or even rejecting a part of it. But at the end of the day, I would rather be called stupid than living the rest of my life in a state of what-ifs.

There is a conclusion to this totally obscure entry. And that is my resolve to DO MORE, and whine less. Life has spoilt me rotten by giving me most of the things I need to survive. I need to show the world what I can do, from the littlest corners of my room to the deepest crevices of the planet. (if that's even possible- High goals are good anyways right?)

Doctors

2006-05-07T23:56:00.000+08:00

During the duration of my dad's operation and stay in the hospital, I was fortunate to have had the chance to talk with the young resident doctors who waited on my dad and who did rounds when the senior doctor/surgeon was not around.

All my life, I've had this misconception that doctors were almost like supernatural beings. They had the "power" which no ordinary man had- The power to heal physical deformities and ailments of man, from his birth to his death. They seemed to possess such confidence that makes us ordinary people find solace and comfort in.

The residents I speak of are no different. They are intelligent, confident, very capable yet very young. These young residents at present should not be taken forgranted, especially by our generation, because these are the doctors who will take over the doctors who were passed on to us by our parents. Our lives and our health, literally will fall into their hands.

The reason I chose to wrote about young doctors was because of my surprising realization that they are ordinary human beings as well. Yesterday at the ER of Cardinal Santos, a couple of my dad's doctors and I were chatting (while waiting for my dad to complete a medical requirement) and somehow the topic turned into business. I was so shocked that these doctors asked me about what I did and asked me for advice about setting up businesses. I eagerly talked and was pleased at how equally eager they responded. I was almost sad to go... I felt as if I made new friends among these doctors who I realized were a mere 4-5 years older than me. I felt their youth, their frustrations, their hopes and dreams. For a split second, I wondered whether they were happy being where they were-

I got my answer minutes later when a bruised and battered man was wheeled into the ER, when the doctors hastily but pleasantly bade us goodbye, as they rushed to attend to him. And when I watched them study CT scans, check the BP/pulse, treat the wounds while calmly conversing with the patient, I realized that they were exactly where they wanted to be.

And you know what? So was I.

My Birthday Greetings to You

2006-04-26T14:15:00.000+08:00

I am turning 26 in a couple of days. There are moments when I wish I could capture time and wind it back to somewhat lengthen this aging process. When I was younger, I used to think that time passed by ever so slowly and I kept counting the months and days before my birthday came (usually a sleepless night on the eve of my birthday). I don't know. There was, and still is something about my birthday that makes me happy. I know majority would say that its "just another day", but for me, I've always felt differently. It's always been- my birthday is a happy day and will always be a happy day for me.

This year as yet another birthday approaches, I am filled with so much gratitude and peace deep down. I am thankful and humbled by all the many blessings that fills my life each day. From my not so perfect and normal family that I would not ever trade for anything, to the man (not boy) who I love and who loves me in return, to the friends I have brought so much joy and meaning to my life along the years, and to the new addition of my super cute pet who never fails to brighten my mornings.

This year, there will be no grand celebration, or a list of dreams to wish on for the next year. This year will be a year for me to say "Thank You", "Salamat", "XieXie" to all of you who have made me who I am, who have travelled with me at some point in my journey. And if there is only one thing I will have to wish for, it is for all of you, and all of us, to continue living our lives each day as if it were our last. With all the love and abundant grace from God ever present in us.

Happy Birthday indeed.

The Beauty of Parenting

2006-04-04T11:22:00.000+08:00

Parenting is not an easy feat. I know because as the eldest of 5 kids, I was often tasked with parental duties from the time I was 11 or 12, owing to the fact that I had 4 younger siblings who seemed to have come out of nowhere. At age 13, I already was doing groceries and errands for my family and was already capable of taking care of my siblings. Yes, I had to grow up pretty fast compared to my friends at school- for some reason, I could not do things as freely because of responsibilities I had to do and also because I had (and still have) quite strict parents. However, I am not one to complain. There are after all, lifetime benefits to growing that way. I can survive without a yaya and maids and I know I will still be able to balance my life at home and work pretty well. I will not have a hard time surviving in an alien place because my survival instincts are pretty above average where that is concerned.

Nonetheless, the parenting I am referring to is not what I’ve enumerated but rather that of a deeper kind. Not in the tasks parents must do but rather in the actual relationship between a parent and a child.

People often say that after marriage, having a child is the end of a particular way of life and the beginning of another. Suddenly, there is a new mouth to feed (literally at first), and the scary thought of raising a child from scratch seems daunting. Parents are particularly filled with a fear of something going wrong, and as such they start to become controlling and “overparental” and it becomes totally overwhelming once the child grows to have his or her own mind and once he or she stresses on having his or her own life.

Of course it can also work the other way- where parents let their children grow freely, with little guidance, make their own mistakes but who will always provide a home to come back to- like the story of the Prodigal Son.

In both cases, can we honestly say that one parent is more “loving” than the other? How difficult to digest that “to love” is almost the same as “to fear for” that person. You fear losing a person so much or for a person you love to go astray… But ironically, the fear brings out a side to parents which children themselves grow to fear and eventually resent.

I suppose parenting is indeed a tough act to follow, but there is beauty in all this. For remember that we are speaking of bringing more people into the world, celebrating the beauty of God’s Creation over and over again, and thus begins the process of guiding them (the children) back to where they came from.

On Death and Dying

2006-03-14T10:29:00.000+08:00

If there is anything that frightens me and shakes me up the most- it is the thought of death. Not mine- for I know that if God were to take me now, I would not protest or fear it. What really gets me worked up and disturbed is when I think of losing people I love to death. My grandparents (I still have 4 healthy ones- I'm very fortunate for that and am thankful.), my parents, siblings, relatives, friends etc etc. The thought makes my eyes well up and my heart turns heavy with grief...

That's why when I heard about my friend's dad dying yesterday, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness and true loss for her. I used to be good friends with her in high school but we drifted apart come college and post-college. It came as a surprise to me therefore, that her dad and my dad were friends. Let us pray for the soul of Mr. Philip Co- that he may rest in the dwelling place of our Saviour in Heaven. Let us also pray for his family- for my friend Lesley "Lele" Co, and ask God to continue to guide their path throughout these difficult times.

On Leading

2006-03-13T10:40:00.000+08:00

One of the great pains of having people work for you is that like a parent with children, you will have to make sure that they have the basic necessities- such as training, a good working environment, a good culture in the company, benefits and the likes.

As a leader, it pains you when your team is divided. It makes you feel as if you haven't done enough. It makes you feel angry when you see that divisions are caused by petty instances which could have been avoided in many ways.

But as with all things, enough is enough.

There is a point in time when man's patience reaches a breaking point- and that point may serve as an eyeopener not only to the witnesses, but also to the person itself.

I know that pretty much everything in my life has been handed to me in a silver platter. And I know that perhaps a part of me is still in a maturing process, yet I discover newer and newer things about myself and the world through my little experiences.

And as I keep traversing on this journey, I pray for understanding, for patience, and for wisdom in discernment.

GOOD NIGHT :)

2006-02-28T00:14:00.000+08:00

For the Soul

In sleep
the soul is freed from the demons
that chain him
to the world
which is the void
in the lives of all humanity

It is in sleep
that man can
for one second
catch a glimpse
of the abounding presence of hope

That what we know of as
the darkness that envelopes one in sleep
is actually the light
to the inner sanctum
where we can be truly free

For it is in our dreams
that we are found;
In waking hours
when we are lost;
but
it really is
in our sleep
that we are saved.

A Butterfly by Choice

2006-02-27T10:47:00.000+08:00

The journey toward self-discovery is not exactly the bed of roses one would think it is. Sometimes, you realize things about yourself which are not what you expected- and you find yourself lost, uncertain and vulnerable. Other times you feel like a monster stares you back in the face in the mirror, and you want to break the mirror into small pieces. After such ordeal, you feel exhausted, as if you've aged a thousand years. You feel weary as you recall things that were said and particularly you cringe at the things you know were true.

It is impossible to look forward without taking into consideration what happened in the past. To become a new person or to improve an existing personality, one must always have an understanding about who he or she was in the past. It is the only way one can right the wrongs of the past- by setting an internal alarm clock everytime one feels that the past is about to unravel itself again.

Yet, is this even possible? People say that you are what you are, that if you are born with a tail behind your legs, cutting it off will not entirely remove the tail. We cannot remove ourselves from what we are born to be and what we have grown to be, I agree.

Let me digress for a moment and talk about one of my all time favorite stories- Hope for the Flowers by Trina Paulus. This is a story that talks about two caterpillars Stripe and Yellow and their life as caterpillars. To them, life is all about climbing the "caterpillar pillar" along with other caterpillars in the quest of getting on top. Since all caterpillars make that journey, you can imagine how the caterpillars fight one another to get to the top- only to attain nothing. But true caterpillars must surrender to the cocoon in order to really fly. Thus, Stripe and Yellow made the choice to be cocooned, in which after a period of time, they emerged from the cocoon as beautiful butterflies.

I believe we are all born to be caterpillars- but not for us to remain caterpillars forever. The time must eventually come for us to choose whether we are content to be mere caterpillars forever or decide to surrender into the cocoon where we will undergo a transformation into being butterflies for the rest of our lives.

I choose to be a butterfly, like Stripe and Yellow.

This is why right now, at this very moment, I just need to pause, get my bearings together, close my eyes, take a deep breath, pray for a moment-

and surrender myself to the cocoon.

Moses and Me

2006-02-24T12:06:00.000+08:00

While I was studying at AIM, we had a creative workshop/ session wherein we had to create a symbol out of our business to be able to understand it more. At first, I was confused... I mean, what could I use to symbolize my business??? Suddenly, I got an image of Moses, and from there- the ideas just seemed to flow....

-o-o-o-

I chose the biblical story of Moses to illustrate my business, the logic of it, as well as the key players and stakeholders.

Moses was an ordinary man when God called Him to deliver his people into the Promised Land. It was God’s special plan for Moses and was a “calling” which Moses could not turn his back on. Moses in fact, was a reluctant prophet. Yet it was because of his faithfulness in God and his leadership qualities that made him a unique person in the Old Testament. In the same way, I feel that I am a mere struggling entrepreneur (or at the very least the daughter of one) whose calling in this world is to serve. My line of business is microfinance, and I know that it carries a product that is far from unique. However, it is who I am and where I came from that makes me different from the many existing microfinance practitioners. It is in my delivery where I am different, as well as in my long term vision.

Going back to the story of Moses, we saw how God’s plan for him was to deliver the Israelites (who were then slaves in Egypt) into the Promised Land. In my case, I feel that the Israelites are my clients and beneficiaries (the entrepreneurial poor). My vision of transforming them into partners of economic development is practiced by my way of serving them, by giving them financial assistance, free training and development, as well as enterprise development support services.

In the case of Moses, he was called and advised by the “burning bush”. My “burning bushes” are my motivators and mentors. These are the people who continuously guide and mentor me, such as my dad, mom, training team, as well as professors at AIM.

The “Golden Calf” symbolizes those lenders who I consider competitors and plagues to my clients. In the story of Moses, the Israelites adhered to a golden calf and worshipped it falsely by paying homage. In my business, I see the personification of the golden calf in the informal lenders like the “turkos”, “bombays” and the like whose true intention of luring clients to their side is plainly for monetary profit at exorbitant rates. These are people who have no inclination toward serving the poor and aiding them in their plight at the lowest rungs of the economic ladder.

Since I am to make a “model” MicroFinance program, this “model” in Moses’ story is carved out on the stone tablets which contained the Ten Commandments. The model that I am expecting to come up with will contain its own “ten commandments” on how to conduct the specialized programs to be replicated in the other branches.

Moses was not alone in his journey. He had people like Aaron and later on Joshua aid him in his undertaking. The “Aarons” and “Joshuas” in my context are the businessmen who I am tapping to help me along the way. These are people who I aim to involve in my journey to that Promised Land.

In the biblical narrative, Moses was beset with more than enough challenges and hurdles. He was continuously chased by the Egyptians and was faced with the challenge of crossing the Red Sea. These represent the hurdles, trials and challenges which I know have yet to come my way. However, I know that my greatest hurdle and enemy would not simply be running along these lines. Such cuts deeper into the internal core of the very people I am determined to serve and empower. The greatest hurdle and enemy Moses encountered in his journey were the Israelites themselves. Many times along the way, the Israelites became disillusioned, lost hope and bitterly wanted to go back to Egypt and claim their lives as slaves once more. Our program was designed for the poor, so that in time, they may rise from their levels and become active participants in the economic development in Mindanao. However, a foreseen enemy lurks in the attitude of the very clients we are serving. Having gotten used to the poverty where they are situated, their mindset and attitude would be difficult to alter. The “Promised Land” is what our company may envision for them, but may not be what they envision and want for themselves at this point. Convincing them to make the journey (or the “exodus”) with us will be a challenge, albeit a very fruitful and fulfilling one.

This “Promised Land” is where I want my clients and partners to be in five years, as the realization of my banner objective. Moses was never able to reach the Promised Land. I believe that the same fate awaits my company in that sense. Unlike Moses, we will be able to catch a glimpse and initially set foot there. However, like Moses, I know that our company can never really fully entrench ourselves in that situation because we will always have to keep looking for potential Israelites and Aarons to take to the Promised Land. It would be our “service” to shuttle them back and forth and help these two groups of people develop a bond and connection along the way.

In the Promised Land, “manna” fell down from the heavens, in the same way that much wealth awaits the stakeholders (clients, businesses and our company) in my business at our arrival at our very own Promised Land. More than worldly wealth is the wealth knowing that we have found fulfillment as people with set goals and ambitions of their own. For the poor, they will be empowered and inspired to continue uplifting their status in society. For the businessmen, they will realize the true fulfillment of their business in their undertaking of their corporate social responsibility. Finally, for me and our company, we will have found self-actualization and fulfillment in the knowledge that we have completed our journey, and served well. Moreover is the knowledge that there are so many “Israelites”, “Aarons” and “Joshuas” out there, as our journey begins and ends over and over again.

This model makes strategic planning a clearer undertaking for me and my company. For instance, now, I have to find a way of packaging myself and my product to make it more attractive and enticing to our clients and altering their current mindsets and values. At present, I need to identify what exactly the Red Sea is in my business and like Moses, how do I “part” that Red Sea? Also, it is helpful for me to identify the “Aarons” and the “Joshuas” of my business, and be wary of those whose inclinations are entirely different from the vision, mission and objectives of the program. Most importantly, I know that I will have to look closely into myself and our company and strive to be like Moses in all that he was, in all that he did and in all that he was born to be.

The Theory of Relativity

2006-02-22T11:19:00.000+08:00

What makes a theory a theory and not a fact? Is it because theories have to go through a “testing period” before being elevated into the fact status? If this is so, what then differentiates a theory given this definition, from a hypothesis in a scientific equation? A theory is perhaps, one that has to be subjected to various stages of “proofs” which can hold true at any given time. In short- theories are theories because they help give accurate (sometimes bordering on the crazy) definitions to what could be certain universal and material truths.

I cannot claim to know all the answers to these questions I posted- but I asked them nonetheless to introduce a very popular yet perhaps one of the most taken forgranted theories in this world- which is Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.

Blame Denzell for introducing me to such a bizarre topic during a conversation on one of our long (15 minute) walks (during the days we opted not to bike) from our classroom at BLCU to our apartment complex in Beijing. At that time, I was a bit confused with the terms that he used, but what I remember was what he said about how time was not absolute, and that Einstein’s theory actually stated that time was “slower” from the perspective of moving objects and “faster” for still objects. He digressed further by posing a question as confusing as that statement- that for example if I were in a car and he was outside, was I in fact in motion by being in the car, or was it actually him who was moving from the car?

There are many many ways to relate this theory with the workings of the physical world. Take for example, how man’s movements as corresponding to how the Earth rotates on its axis can serve as an illustration of how time can seem “slower” in relation to the man in motion. Or simply put, one can also say that time seems “slower” for the man who does 10 tasks in 10 minutes as opposed to a man who does 1 task given the same number of minutes. This theory can also be related to food- in explaining why mold grows on bread after a number of days, or how food expires and spoils after being left uneaten after a period of time. In this case, time becomes the life sentence, and with every tick tock of the clock- the end comes faster to people who don’t move. Say I stand in the middle of the highway and a moving car hurtles itself into me. From my perspective, the approaching car becomes faster as it approaches and as it comes nearer, but for the car, it’s like moving in slow motion. And as it hits me, the car will continue to move while I am on the roadside- dead, or at the very least gasping for my last breath. However, if at the very last second, I jump away from the path of the oncoming car, my “movement” has caused me to have more time to live, thus making time “slow down” for me.

(Warning: Do not try for experimental purposes, this could be hazardous to your health and sanity.)

The theory can be explored in many ways- that is where its beauty and profundity lie. There are many ways in which man can link and relate this theory to anything they can think of. I'd like to explore the life cycle and aging process. It’s startling to realize how the theory of relativity has silently worked its way up to the unconscious minds of people and manifest itself in the way men speak of age and time. Wise men say: “Don’t let time pass you by without you making a difference in the world”. “Time passing you by” connotes being still and letting time overtake you thus illustrating how time and opportunity can actually pass you by if you refuse to take action with your life. Women have a biological clock inside them that dictates when the opportunity to bear children expires. Why are women hasty to marry and have children before they menopause? Simply because if they don’t do so- time will catch up to them and literally “kill” their chances of having kids. There are also people who feel that they are the same person today as when they were kids, indicative of how they only feel they have ages after they have looked at pictures of themselves from eons and eons of years ago.

Is time then greater than all of us? And if so, who controls it? Why does man often feel that there is simply not enough time for him to make a mark in the world, to see all the things he wants to see, or to achieve such heights of successes? During class reunions, people always say how “Time flies”- but is this indeed true? Or have we just been irresponsible about how we manage the passage of time?

What then is the great Einstein trying to tell all of us? For sure, it is not that we have control of time itself- for even Einstein recognizes that there are certain elements in the world which cannot be included in the formula for his theory or be subjected to the natural laws of the world- such as the presence of light.

On the surface, yes, we can learn from this by telling ourselves to manage our time wisely, not to waste time in making decisions, moving towards our goals, towards living a life that is well spent.

Nonetheless, at the end of it all, there is light, and in the Story of Creation- “light can overcome darkness”. Maybe at the end of it all, beneath the layers of the frizzy silver white hair of one eccentric old man’s head lies the idea that indeed there is that inexplicable light that is ever present.

There is indeed a valuable lesson for us all- a lesson on hope.

Solving the MYSTERYous Problem

2006-02-20T16:37:00.000+08:00

If you were to ask me before what my concept of love was, I would have given a lot of emphasis on love as a “feeling” and thus given you an idea of romance. If you asked me about faith, hope, trust and other intangible things, I would have given a whole mouthful of clichés which I’ve become accustomed to hearing and reading everywhere. At present, I have come to believe that the world is made up of all these endless clichés that in the end confuse rather than direct people to the truths of the world. One might question me what these truths of the world are- but in fact are very simple, misused words. Words such as Love, Faith, Hope, Trust, Wisdom and a whole lot more are to name a few.

In my opinion, those words I mentioned are abused words in the English language. Why do I say this?

In a philosophical article written by French philosopher Gabriel Marcel, he defines the basic difference between problem and mystery. Problems are issues that people face everyday and are naturally followed by solutions. On the other hand, a mystery has no need for one. Marcel illustrates this phenomenon by way of a digging process, where one never stops digging until an answer (solution) is unearthed. The digging process is continuous and unending on the part of a mystery because through the digging process, new “faces” of a mystery is discovered, yet not complete enough to be resolved as an actual solution or answer in its totality.

My point in discussing all these is this: the words I mentioned above, LOVE, FAITH, HOPE, TRUST, WISDOM are some words which belong to the “mystery” category. Through time, different aspects and meanings of these words are revealed through us through discovery and experience, yet it is forever revealing itself to us, as we go on digging into the depths of the words themselves. There is not one meaning we can cling onto, no clear “solution”, because these are not simple “problems” which requires simple and clear “solutions”. Thus, these words become abused each and every time a person rejects the mysterious quality of the word and defines it accordingly. Don’t get me wrong, definitions are good in the sense that it gives us glimpses of the totality of what is being defined. However, in many cases, where definitions become the end all and be all of things, there is no room left for further revelations and discoveries. As such, this is when making concise definitions turn toward the negative.

In many cases, those who hold the world and the material in great importance often want everything defined. They simply cannot rest until they have made definitions for the lot or have come up with solutions for everything. The question remains: If man has answers to everything and if man continuously tries to unearth mysteries of the world, then where does that leave room for faith? The act of faith consists in part of believing and trusting fully in something we have no full grasp of. I believe that man’s insistent need to define and give solutions to everything is their way of attempting to control a world that is in reality, merely leased out to them. We all have no right to put any claims in this world, for this is not our permanent home. We cannot say that we completely own what is ours in possession, for we are merely benefiting from little gifts that are parts of the bigger gift of Life. Sad to say, most people in today’s world simply find it hard to settle for things that they cannot define or solve, and their reason for such is a continued attainment of wisdom. The great error in that is that wisdom in man’s eyes is actually mere foolishness in God’s eyes. These men focus too much on making themselves wiser in an earthly sense that they become distant to what is of God and not “of this world”.

There is more cause to lament, for we can see clearly now, how human beings have tampered even with the greatest and most beautiful mystery of all- that which is God. There is a danger in defining who and what God is in simple terms, for we are putting ourselves in the trap of idolatry, in worshipping a God that we have defined for our own purposes and for our own convenience. By trying to “solve” the mystery of God, people have made definitions and pictures of a God that they can relate to, not realizing that in doing such, they are trapping Being in its very essence, and themselves as a result. Man is fully realized and actualized in God. Thus, by trapping God in the deluge of the limited ideas of humanity, man is trapping himself from freely being.

The solution to this problem of “mystery” is really quite simple. To begin with, we must all be fully aware of who we are and what we are capable of with regard to God. At the end of this search, we will realize that who we are and what we are is absolutely incomparable to what God can do and be. Consequently, we must set all our misguided ideas of God free and let God’s mystery be revealed to us through time. The first step would be to admit that we do not know God entirely in his essence and as a result, the quest to know God should be top priority and the first step in getting to know God is to know how he manifested Himself through His Word and His chosen ones.

In this very simple way, we do away with prideful thoughts of ourselves and of this world and are moved to humility and dependence in the realization that we cannot be extricated from knowing God, for it is only in embracing the Mystery to the fullest that we become free in setting out to begin our earthly journey toward Him.

Creating that Balance

2006-02-16T19:28:00.000+08:00

Almost three years ago, I was talking casually to my uncle when he noticed a book casually propped on my table. The book, The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren, was highly recommended to me by a friend and has since caught the interest of many of my aunts and friends of my mother’s. Far from a self-help book (in fact the opposite of it), it is a beautifully written book about realizing one’s purpose according to how it was originally planned by God. It offers day to day readings, biblical quotations, points for reflection, and the like. When my uncle asked me why I was “into” books like that, I launched into the story of my renewed faith, how I came to discover God, and myself in the process. I could see that he was shocked at what I mentioned. He confessed to be “in-between” several self-help books, because he was still trying to find his “purpose” in life. In turn, I said that in my opinion, “self-help is no help at all”. Without recognizing the role of God, and His son Jesus in one’s life, one will always somehow feel lost and confused.

I can tell that my uncle was impressed at the “maturity” that I seemed to embody now. But I honestly did not want him to see that. I told him that it was not about me, not to give me the credit for what I seemed to have become. He then seriously warned me against being a “fanatic” about it, and proceeded to tell me that once upon a time, my family (dad’s side) was caught in a battle of religions. It was between my dad, a devout Catholic who knew exactly what his faith centered on, and another brother of his, who was a full fledged Protestant. They were both so deep into their religions that they were constantly caught in debate. The remaining members of the family watched from the sidelines. In the end, another one of the brothers lamented that religion was actually “breaking up” the family rather than “uniting” it.

My Protestant uncle argued that Catholics don't really read the Bible and therefore base their faith solely on the teachings of the Church and in religion or theology classes. This is one true reality that I see among Catholics- that very few really try to read the Bible in order to understand their faith. Nonetheless, it is not enough to believe in just the Word of God. It is not enough to focus on doctrine and continue reading the bible everyday without practicing the other dimensions of our faith. If the Word of God is “food for the soul”, there is also a need for us to feed others with it, and nourish ourselves with the Word together. There would also be a need for us to glorify that Word, to surrender wholeheartedly to it in prayer and worship. One thing that we have to be aware of is that these dimensions of doctrine (believing), moral (doing) and worship (praying) is not a step by step practice. There is a need for us to be simultaneous in living out these dimensions of our faith because they interact with each other in a very intrinsic manner. That is what would constitute a good balance of one’s faith: letting the three dimensions co-exist and interact with one another.

I personally believe that the Word has shown itself as the light of my world. However I know that it is not enough for me to consume this light on my own. I will have to act according to the direction given off by the light and help light the path of others as well. I also realize that I have to offer myself fully to that light and make myself an instrument of that light. In the end, it doesn't really matter whether one is a Catholic or Protestant, but rather one's personal relationship with God.

Balancing my faith would require me to love, among other things. I believe I am more than ready for that task. As with all the blessings that I have received, I give thanks for the wonderful and extraordinary way I have been tapped by God.

I'm Sorry

2006-02-15T13:24:00.000+08:00

Erich Segal's super bestseller LOVE STORY is one of the most memorable books I've ever read. It is simple, poignant, sometimes comic, othertimes bittersweet, but what stuck with me more than 10 years after having read the book was the line "Love means never having to say you're sorry". This was after Jenny and Oliver, the main characters of the book, had a particularly nasty fight which resulted to Oliver's apologizing.

Whether I believe in this or not is another point altogether, but on my own, I prefer to apologize when I know I have done something quite offensive or when I am being particularly impatient and bull headed over something. Somehow, with the words "I'm sorry" begins the process of healing and forgiveness, no matter how serious or senseless the offense was. I know that apologies cannot right certain wrongs, nor can it alter what has already transpired. Therefore if this is the case- what then is the purpose of apologizing? Is it for purely selfish reasons- so that one can rest knowing that he or she has done his or her "role" by apologizing? Or does it carry a much heavier meaning which is not as prominent at the start?

The answer lies in one word and one word only:

PRIDE.

Pride is the source of all conflict in the world. Pride is what caused Adam and Eve to commit the first sin of the human race. Pride has also been recognized by C.S Lewis in his book "Mere Christianity" as the Greatest Sin one can ever commit. I believe that a sincere apology is the conscious recognition of one's pride. It is not at all cowardly to apologize, neither is it demeaning to accept other people's apologies. If anything, it brings us one step closer or one level higher to what we call LOVE.

Grapes for Pruning

2006-02-14T11:42:00.000+08:00

Just recently, I was having a conversation with a couple of friends regarding the changes I felt myself going through. All the while, I assumed that the changes were internal, that I was becoming more serious, quieter as a person, my priorities in life were changing. I felt myself withdrawing from certain aspects of my life which I considered quite unfruitful and unproductive. I have since mellowed from the previous impulsive and active Kath, though up to this day, I can still be quite impulsive and emotional when called for. I kept emphasizing how much I’ve changed. How much I’ve grown, but failed to realize I was committing a grave error in admitting this. I kept using the word I and ME, looking at the changes from an internal point of view- that I almost missed the whole point of it all.

None of these are about me.

It is a humbling realization I admit, a bit sore on my ego centered pride, but very sensible in its simplicity. It is not me as a person that changed primarily. It was my direction that changed when I made that conscious choice to walk toward God and fall in love with him. Like the Jesuit priest said, my falling in love with God, decided everything- my priorities, my desires, my personality as well as my emotions and impulses. In short, metaphorically speaking, I became a grape, ready for pruning.

Biblical narrations are abundant and loose in their allusions to “vineyards”, “vines”, “grapes” and “wine”. In the Old Testament particularly, there are several references made to vineyards. In fact, Jesus’ first miracle at the Wedding in Cana was to transform 12 jugs of water into wine. As usual, my literarily analytical mind cannot help but put my two cents worth into the metaphors of the vineyards and wine, and their possible allusion to man per se.

We were initially created as “grape seeds”, sown into the fertile vineyards when we were thrust into the world. With the proper care and nurture, the seeds grow into plants and bear fruit. As with the real vineyards, some seeds not nurtured properly eventually end up dying without any chances of growing. People who continually reject God and refuse to respond to His love end up becoming like the seeds that never really grow. In time and with the proper care and nurture, the plants bear fruit in form of grapes. Most people, Christians too, believe that they become actualized as they bear fruit in form of grapes. Most stop at this level and eventually fall off the branches and onto the ground. The question that needs to be asked is this: Does man really become actualized as he becomes a “grape”? Is it enough for man to stop at a certain stage of his relationship with God?

The answer to both questions, is a sound and resolute NO. No, it is not enough to actualize oneself as a “grape”, because we forget that the end of the seed is not realized in the grape (fruit) it bears. We forget that the grape seeds continue to “actualize” their worth after they bear fruit because they are actualized not in the form of the fruit, but in the wine the fruit will continue to produce. Just as grapes require pruning before they are harvested to make wine, so does man need to translate his faith into action and worship. In the course of growing and pruning grapes from its initially being sown as seeds, many factors contribute to the stunted growth of the seeds. Typhoons, erosion and improper tending tend to cause a lot of the seeds to cease growing. Only the tough ones actually grow into a plant that will later on bear fruit, and even as a fruit, these grapes are pruned and harvested and later on made into wine for drinking.

The decision is ours, do we want to remain “grapes” forever? Or do we further submit ourselves to be pruned, harvested and made into wine? Admittedly, becoming a grape forever is the easier road to take. It does not require too much commitment. Nor does it call for a renewal of the self through the direction one chooses. However in choosing to remain to be a grape, man is prematurely actualized. I don’t think it is even sufficient to use the term “actualize” because as a grape, man has yet to reach out fully to God in love. On the other hand, the road that leads to pruning, harvesting and transformation into wine is a road that requires a wholehearted commitment, and a total surrender to God. Thus, it is a road less traveled by man, due to the complex intricacies it presents to the man consumed with the “here and now”.

Sad to say, very few actually make the choice to offer themselves to become grapes for pruning, very few aspire to reach out for the ultimate truth about ourselves as human beings, that at the end of it all, we really are nothing without God. At that point of realization, we are overwhelmed at the discovery that we are who we are because of grace. We are graced beings sent into the world of bodies to become instruments of that grace. Our souls were created as a result of that grace, and as far as eternity is concerned, we never really die. Time, like most of the things here on earth, is a human construct, an element created to supplement the material world. In death, our bodies decompose, but our souls live on simply because we are inextricably bound to God.

At the end of this all, I know what I am, and what I want to be. With all my heart, I can say that I am a grape for pruning, and I’m more than willing and ready to take it from there.

MUNICH

2006-02-13T10:40:00.000+08:00

Last night, I watched the movie Munich with my siblings. I came out of the theatre deeply disturbed, touched and so full of questions.

Munich is a movie that narrates the series of events in 1972 following the murders of the entire Israeli contingent of the Munich Olympics by erring Palestinians. A young patriot, Avner is called in by the Israeli Government to be the leader of a group of men tasked to assasinate 11 Palestinians hiding in Europe who were considered to have had very important roles in the killing of Israelis. He succeeds killing 7 of them and loses 3 of his own men in the process. He leaves Israel with his family and moves to Brooklyn, a changed man. He is haunted by the Munich incident and how being an assasin has toyed with his morality and sanity. In the end, the movie ends in a park in Brooklyn overlooking the Hudson River, with a clear view of the United Nations facility in the background. How symbolic.

The complexity of my emotions bothers me. The movie was not meant to be an escapist movie. It was also not a mere historical account as well. It was real. 1972 and 2006 are not so different after all. There has yet to be a resolution with the Israel-Palestine conflict and the Palestines are still in search for that land and country to call their own.

Political Science taught us all that a nation consists of the people and territory. But beyond all this I realized last night that a nation has to have a common ideology, values, beliefs and a deep sense of pride in who they are. In the movie, it was portrayed that the Palestinians were such people with such values, but without a place they could come "home" to.

Home, as I like to tell people, is where the heart is. The world expands more and more, there are thousands migrants and OCWs in our midst today. Do we lose a home when we leave our roots and gain another one at our destination? Or are our roots and destinations one and the same?

I stand corrected. Home, is not simply where the heart is, but where the soul's telos (orientation) is. Our souls begins and ends with God. Therefore in this world, we are merely tenants and landlords, for all this is temporary. How sad and ironic that in the Bible, the Israelites were God's chosen people, whom he led out of slavery into the Promised Land.

Nonetheless, I believe this is all part of a plan.

God's plan, and His alone.

The REAL Commitment

2006-02-11T17:58:00.000+08:00

The story of Creation shows how man is inextricably bound to God. We were created in God’s image and likeness, He who is the Infinite Good and whom no one can come close to. Through the process of Creation, God graced us with the gift of life. As sons and daughters of God, we are therefore asked to respond through our faith. Easier said than done is what a lot of people would ordinarily say. In my preliminary reading of Genesis, I came upon the account of Sodom and Gomorrah and from this simple story derived my own personal realization of committing myself to what is good, ultimately, which is God. In this account, Abraham asked God if he would spare the destruction of the city if he found ten good people. God said he would spare the city for the sake of these people even if the number of the “bad” people would exceed the number of the “good”. Where does my realization come in here?

In a very symbolic manner, I’ve come to believe that the world is one big Sodom and Gomorrah, where sin prostitutes itself for man to take in without realizing that his actions continue to take him further away from God. At the same point of realizing this, I come to realize that the world stands possibly because of the few people committed to the direction of what is “good”. I cannot help but want to commit myself to be one of the few.

Nonetheless, there is another more blatant reason why the world still stands despite its descent into the oblivion of sin. The answer lies in the beautiful completion of God’s love for all of man, when he sent his son Jesus Christ to atone for the sins of mankind. We were redeemed even before we were born, and as an exchange we are only asked to do one thing as a response, which is to commit ourselves to Jesus, in being Christlike.

Of course, this response to a commitment so great can only stem from an initial decision to Love. We recognize that we were beings created by God out of love and in love. God in Himself IS love, and this is the foundation where our faith is built on. Thus, we become beings of love as well as beings in love. A Jesuit priest once said that “nothing is greater than falling in love with God, because once we do, it decides everything.” True enough, because it is only at this state that we become aware of the response and action we will have to undertake to profess this love we feel for God. We respond through our commitment because of our recognition of that love and our realization that we will only be fulfilled as human beings if we reach out to the Source of our being.

I think that this is basically what our life here on Earth is all about: Biblical narrations will always depict the image of a “journey to the Promised Land”. The Promised Land was first given to our first parents Adam and Eve, but was taken away from them when they gave in to sin and temptation. Life is one big journey back to this Promised Land. Our limited time here on Earth gives us the sufficient time and opportunity to travel back to the Father who created that. The end of our material life marks our arrival at the gates of the Promised Land, which can only be found in the realm of the infinite and the eternal, and therefore “out of this world”.

To my delight, and awe, my discovery of these things has made me more at peace with myself and the world around me. No longer do I seek aimlessly for my purpose in this world, because I know I was created to fulfill a personal purpose which only God mapped out for me. A sense of calmness overwhelms me and there is lightness in the gait of my walk… Because I know I’m taking a walk with Jesus as my guide and inspiration, walking toward the direction of God.

Why Write?

2006-02-10T09:53:00.000+08:00

One of my dreams in life is to be able to have published a book in the course of my lifetime. I am not saying that these loose writings of mine will be published, unless I am confident enough about the validity and sense of which I am writing of will be capable of touching others.

In the movie Forrest Gump, we saw a point in Forrest’s life where he just started running, for no definite purpose to it or a particular need for it. In a way, my approach to writing these kinds of entries is the same. I felt the urge to write, and feel the need to continue doing so. However, unlike Forrest, I do not see myself stopping 3 years from now because of exhaustion. Unlike Forrest, I feel the need for this because I believe that there is an intrinsic connection between my ability to write and express myself to God’s definitive plan for me.

All my life, I have always found comfort and solitude in using words as an instrument in expressing myself. Be it through mere oral conversation to penning down my thoughts, it had always come easily for me. In these stages of self-discovery, I realized that these moments in my life will perhaps be cornerstones of my faith.

When God created me, He gave me the gift of expression. But it never dawned to me until recently what I am supposed to do with that gift. I thought that I was merely “socially endowed” which made conversing and reaching out so easy for me to do. God also gifted me with the ability to use my pen. In the early days, my pen has seen the conception of poetry, prose and essays that were read and admired by my family and friends. But the pen can also serve as a revolutionary tool, and in this aspect, I believe I am being called to express my faith by writing about it.

More than anything, this is an expression of love. My entries reveal bits and pieces about my personal love story about God. This is written and inspired by love, and my dedication is wrapped around an abominable fear that if I stray, all the love will be taken away from me. This is my love letter to God, an epitaph of my faith, and the continuity of my hopes to be as good a child to God as can possibly be.

May 13, 2003- The Night Love Revealed Itself to Me

2006-02-09T16:34:00.000+08:00

As a child, God’s presence in my life was made known to me by my parents. You could say that my “faith” was presented to me in a silver platter and it was something that I was never removed from. At a tender age of 4, I lovingly turned pages of MY FIRST BIBLE which summarized classical stories taken from Genesis, the Exodus, Samuel and the Gospels. After graduating from my first bible, I moved on to other bibles for children and when I was done with those, was presented with my very first “real” bible. I was 10 years old then, and I remember flipping through the pages, feeling proud of my newest acquisition. I carried it around for days, took it with me to school, in the car, everywhere I went. It was a Precious Moments bible, and had cute illustrative pages, and was a rare bible envied by a lot of classmates. As I look back, I see clearly now where I came short.

I never really read it.

My biggest shortcoming then, turned out to be my greatest denial while growing up. I was convinced that I was some sort of a biblical expert. I knew all the significant biblical stories, did well in all my Christian Life Education classes in elementary and high school, and later on got B pluses and A’s in my Theology courses in college. Yet aside from a few verses I had to read for class, as well as the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and John (which were also class assignments), I never really opened the Bible to read, as in REALLY read. Yet I continued to attest to the fact that I was a good Christian. Besides the biblical stories I claimed to know, discussions with my dad (whom in my opinion is the true good Catholic), I was also active in retreats such as the Days with the Lord among others. I was a devout Sunday Massgoer, I knew all the devotions of the Church, as well as her traditional practices which I never failed to be a part of. Everything in my life was perfect. Sure, I had problems and bad experiences, and my ability to bounce out of them proved to me that I was strong because I attributed it to my eternal belief in hope. I was exhilaratingly sailing through clouds. I was perfectly in control.

Little did I know that I was fast tracking toward hitting a hard concrete wall.

I should have seen it coming. After graduation, I went to China and lived there for five months to study Mandarin. But it was also an opportunity for me to reflect upon my life and make decisions about where I was going and what I was going to do with my life. In the haze of the fun I was having at having my own (limited) independence, I felt myself begin to change. I began to think more about my life. Thanks to a prodding friend, I questioned myself more. My decisions, my views on family, relationships, business, and religion were all things which I weighed mentally through the balance scale in my head. I drew emotional strength as an effect of my being alone. I grew calmer and in more control of my (sometimes) wayward emotions. I made drastic changes, such as deciding to work for the family business, dropping the option of taking up a law degree, and even breaking off ties with a guy I was seeing, who I thought could have been a likely choice for a life partner. I came back, adjusted to my “new” life and started paving the way for the career I was about to make for myself.

Then I hit rock bottom.

I knew I was a much different Kath from the time I left for China. I had doubts, established a sort of distance that would enable me to see things in a more objective manner. One day it just dawned on me that I did not have a certain clue of what happiness was, or what made sense and what didn’t. I saw everything I did as meaningless, every potential action or activity a useless cause. I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing friends, except for those whom I sought to help me get out of the abyss I managed to slip myself into. This was a situation I brought upon myself. Through the years, I realize that I carelessly weaved whimsical stories and facts about myself which I chose to believe for purposes of self-gratification. They were not completely false, but I see now how ludicrously vain my whims were, for it focused on the “here and now” and not anywhere or anyone else. I felt that the protective veil that had previously covered my eyes and heart from the realities of life and the world were forcibly ripped from me so quick that I had no time to brace myself for it. I was never more scared in my life.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge…”[1]

The first two nights were the worst. I made no sense to anyone, even myself, and had no idea about what was happening to me. A friend repeatedly told me to “read the bible” and I felt that old feeling of denial surface once again. I was ready to defend myself and my “biblical expertise” but then realized that I never really took an effort to open the bible and read out of love and not obligation. It was then that I broke down and realized what an awfully ungrateful child of God I was in rejecting His words, His gift of eternal love and salvation. Calmly, I ended the conversation with my friend, and with a heart filled with fear of rejection (from God), proceeded to do the simplest yet perhaps the most life-changing thing I will ever do.

I opened my bible… and started to read.

I was afraid that after the many chances God gave me in life, he would deny me the answers to the many questions I have in my heart. I was afraid that he would punish me by not gracing me by igniting fire into my cold and dark heart. However as I read, I loosened up and felt the words literally wash through me. From my eyes, to my head until it finally rested- and fed- the growing embers of my heart. A kind of inexplicable joy initially flowed into me, and I was able to figure out the word for it… divine inspiration! I felt tears come then and I felt blessed, and awed, but despite it all I felt sadness seep into me, and I know that this sadness will finally be the beginning of true wisdom for “Sorrow is better than laughter, because when the face is sad, the heart grows wiser.”[2]

[1] Proverbs 1:7
[2] Ecclesiastes 7:3

An Introduction

2006-02-09T16:17:00.000+08:00

For those who have been to my (one day old) other blog "Ramblings and Musings of the Kath", you might be surprised as to why I have another blog when I could incorporate all my thoughts in the other one. However, as I thought about it, I felt that since faith was such a strong and serious topic, the overall aura of my other blog wouldn't be that suitable for these kind of discussions..

Anyways, this blog shows another part of me, a part which few of my friends know of. I am posting entries which I have written in the past, and entries which I will be writing in the present and future. Nonetheless, these articles are all written from the bottom of my soul, and describes the journey of my faith and my ultimate discovery of God's love and grace.