Poetic Doses: Thoughts on Fall

TRAIN

Life passes by in a blur

Like a train speeding through the tracks

Leaving me breathless

Staggering to keep my footing

So I sit

And allow life to take me where it will

The dizzying days

Disappearing as fast as they come

Yet, amidst the blur, I realize

Now

I have not moved

No closer nor farther from wherever I should be

So I stand

Surprised at my sure-footedness

Finally ready

To run 

     --- or jump.

FALL (1)

Fall

I love the fall

Those moments of giddy uncertainty;

Teetering

The catalyst moment 

That pushed you over the edge

And then all those moments stringed together 

Pulling you further down

There is no rush - nor fright 

Much like that of falling inlove. 

FALL (2)

Fall

I dread the fall

Yet enthralled by its beauty

There is charm in the inevitable 

Those quiet unseen moments 

That creep in between the warmth

Turning lush greens

Into shades of yellow, orange and red

Heralds of winter

When all things beautiful die

There is no poetry more tangible - nor pathetic

Than love fighting to breathe and keep breathing.

Poetic Doses: Australia Series

 

Who knows,

If you looked close enough,

You might just find me.

And yet,
For all her unapologetic wildness,
She is still
A delicately fragile flower;
Proud of her strength,
Yet astonishingly yielding;
Every bit
An intricately complex
Woman.

For what of love

When time moves

in never ending circles;

When love begins

and ends in the same breath;

When feelings come to light

long after they have died;

When forever misses a beat

and all is lost in that single breath?

What of love

What is love

But eternity lost in a moment

of uncertainty ...

Here I stand

An outsider

Watching

Watchful

A glimpse

You

A moment

More

To catch

Your light.

Bigger Bear Series: Endings, Breaking Free and New Beginnings

(Tang Law by Jerson Samson) 

It's a strange feeling, being here and now, at this very moment.  How did we get to this?  How did I get here --- without you? 

The years just flew by  in a blink of an eye.  And I am here, sitting dazed and lost amidst the swirl of memories and feelings.  I am startled by an epiphany:  So much ... and nothing ... has changed.

I am stardust, propelled here and there by the sheer force of your life; disintegrating; inconsequential against the trail you left behind.  

And, for a while that is a lifetime, I stood here rooted where you left me, dying a slow death.  Endings, when left unattended, have a way of numbing everything.

Then there were the jolts; the jolts that woke me from my stupor; the repeated painful jolts that sloughed off the "me" with you.

You are gone.

And I am reborn.

Poetic Dose: Pinto Series

(Art:  Haplos by Mark Justiniani)

Dream Walker

She came to him in dreams 

Always only in dreams;

Of black and white 

That melted into grey;

Then, of deep purple black

Riddled with pinpricks of light;

Of stretches of verdant fields

Flanked by Ents that swayed and danced;

And of gold, bright and then mellow

Resting against blues and salmon hues;

She came to him in dreams

Always only in dreams;

Until her palettes emptied like a raging river

Into a vast and colorless ocean;

And then, once more, 

She came to him in a dream;

To retrieve a drop of amber

Remnant of her heart and soul;

And he 

He remained slumbering ...

As in all the times she came.

Daraitan sa Mt. Daraitan

Daraitan means "Tagpuan" in Filipino; "Rendezvous" in English.

It was, by far, the most difficult hike I've ever done. (Granted, I've done only three; but, still ...).  Whoever rated its torture level at 4/10 must be related to Legolas, because it definitely felt more like a 12/10.  It was an all-assault trail.  And I mean "assault" in its truest sense:  steep, literally vertical!

Exhibit 1 - Notice the angle of my head.  I'm looking up.

Exhibit 2 - No, that is not just the camera angle.  That virtual wall is the trail.

"Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way."

Ten minutes in, I was catching my breath and having an internal argument with my body, which kept screaming, "I told you, we should have done some cardio!"

Before I could internally scream back some form of rebuttal, one of our trail guides cheerfully (I swear, he could hear the internal argument and was mocking me) proclaimed, "Guys, it's going to be like this the rest of the way." I looked at him with the most stoic it's-no-big-deal look I could muster.  He smiled back, a giddy silly isn't-that-awesome! kind of smile.

I smiled back ... and mentally punched him.

Then we took our first break. I sat down, took a sip of water, breathed deeply and looked up.  That's when I first saw it --- the elegantly rustic charm of the trail.  Every nook and cranny was a perfect photo subject, just beautiful beyond words. The lush greenery all around, the damp earth riddled with big and small rocks.  All of these, for all their randomness, felt thoughtfully placed --- right where I needed them for footing, for gripping or support. (And I needed a lot of support.  The trail is not for the vertically-challenged!). I can't help but think that God had meticulously prepared the trail for me. He must have.

"Kaya pa?" (Still manageable?)

I am not going to lie.  I struggled.  As I said, the trail is not for the vertically-challenged.  I swear, I must've grown at least an inch from all the stretching and reaching I had to do.  Yes, I said God had strategically placed supports left and right; but, sometimes, He made me work for them.

A few times along the way, one of the trail guides would check up on me and ask, "Kaya pa?".  I smile and he gives me a thumbs-up.

I realized, God is like a trail guide.  He points me towards the right direction, but allows me to decide which route to take.  He lets me maneuver the challenges my way; but watches over me like a hawk, swooping down in a heartbeat anytime I need help.  There is a sense of fulfillment in accomplishing things my way; and a sense of security knowing that He has my back.  And, because of that, I have the confidence to stretch beyond my perceived limits and say, "Kakayanin" (I will manage).

"Take 5"

I appreciate that the group was a good mix of strong seasoned and eager rookie hikers.  The stronger ones were the alpha team, who set the pace for the group; while those of us who lacked in strength but made up in eagerness took the sweep and "forced" everyone to "stop and smell the roses".

The alpha team sprinted ahead, but waited for us at the rest areas.  Their initial bursts of energy afforded them longer rest periods.

As for us, we took it slow and steady with our assigned trail guide regularly allowing us to "Take 5".  The pace and the short breaks enabled me to enjoy the trail more.  It afforded me time (short but sweet) to look around and appreciate the breathtaking scenery --- because it's precisely the reason I hike.  In nature is where I feel closest to God.

"Take 5", hands down, was my favorite phrase for the day.

"Promise. It's worth it".

Legolas' cousin, the person who rated the hike 4/10 when it is more appropriately a 12/10, must have been inspired somehow.  If he/she hadn't rated Mt. Daraitan a 4/10, we wouldn't have taken it.  And, for all the torture - external and internal, it was definitely worth it.

Our trail guides kept us pumped with "Promise.  It's worth it", said a million times sporadically throughout the hike.  And we latched on to this promise, climbing, trudging on and hanging on for dear life with it.

When we broke through the summit, I caught my breath.  It was 380 degrees of picturesque mountains. It was worth it.

Then we started our trek down towards Tinipak River.  Just when I started asking myself why I was subjecting myself (my knees, especially) to sheer torture, one of the guides said, "Promise.  It's worth it --- even more than the summit" (Weh?).

We finally reached the river and were ready to jump in, when the guides said we needed to walk a bit more (which was really "a lot more").  To which one of us spoke what's on everyone's mind, "But there's the river right there!"

"Promise.  It's worth it."

So, like the good hikers that we were, we followed our trail guides towards a more secluded area, where cold water from the cave emptied out into the river.  There are no words to describe just how beautiful the spot was ... and we had it all to ourselves!

At the end of the hike, I finally understood and appreciated the silly giddy isn't-it-awesome! smile of one of our trail guides.

It is true what they say, the hardest climb (or trek down) is the most worth it.  And, when the trek gets particularly difficult and challenging, remember:  "Promise.  It's worth it."

It always is.

Stumbling Through Multiple Brain Farts

The first day of the long weekend found me plastered on my bed up until noon.  My sister asked, "Did you pull an all-nighter?"

I was definitely up all night --- until first light peeked through the horizon, actually.  But, although the the spirit was more than willing, the body (the mind, specifically) just wasn't.  I wanted to download some of the swirling thoughts that had been waiting to transform into coherent ideas.  But the hours ticked by as I stared blankly at the monitor, struggling with one brain fart after another.  Or, perhaps, it's not brain fart in its strictest sense. My brain was just so full of ideas that I couldn't ride through a train of thought long enough to finish.

It wasn't writer's block.  It was mental constipation!

Frustrated, I took several deep breaths and looked around me.  My room was as cluttered as my brain. A few more deep breaths, and  I shutdown my laptop with a single thought (for a change):  "Clear out the rubbish!"

God sends the perfect aid at just the right time.

This time it came in the wonderful form of a very random no-occasion gift from one of my girlfriends (God bless her!):  a compact manual paper shredder.

This magical shredder gave me the courage to finally work on  the piles of paper that I had been putting off to sort through.  My excuse:  "There are confidential stuff I will need to shred and I don't have a shredder."  Well ... TADA!

After clearing off a mountain of paper (there's another smaller mound of it I have to face some time soon), I got to sort through some clothes and bags as well.  I finished with a box and 3 big garbage bags of paper, clothes and bags for recycling and garage sale/donation.

Amidst all these, a twin soul reminded me, "If you want to find peace, fix your things." I couldn't agree more.  Reasonably uncluttered, my brain unclogged and I conquered some brain farts, which translated into a few rough-on-the-edges-but-tolerably-acceptable literary works.

Glorious release, finally!

Happy Meetings: Quirky Oldies

Couple Goals

During my last business trip to the US, my friend and I grabbed the opportunity to visit the Grand Canyon. It was in that tour that we encountered two pairs of quirky and extremely opposite couples.

The first pair was an old Vietnamese couple who reminded us of Carl and Ellie from the movie "Up".  They looked every bit prepared to go on this trip, dressed in comfortable clothes with matching safari hats.  They each carried an iPhone and iPad and were looking really tech savvy, typing away on their gadgets all the time.  It warmed our hearts how they were so thoughtful and caring to each other.  They allowed the other some time to enjoy the sights at their own pace, lost in their own bubble, yet always aware of the rest of the group.  That is how they noticed me and my friend and decided to adopt us as their grandchildren for the trip.  We were more than happy to oblige.  They barely spoke a word of English, though.  But we enjoyed spending time with them, nonetheless.

The second couple was an old American and his Chinese wife.  This couple seemed the total opposite of the quiet and gentle Vietnamese couple.  At first, they seemed like grumpy old people with their brows perpetually furrowed and arguing about every single thing.  But then she "pestered" the driver to find her husband a better seat because he had a bad back and the long drive was becoming a torture for him.  And he carefully stood up, while the bus was moving, to walk towards the back of the bus to give her the other half of his sandwich ... because she might be hungry.

Different folks, different strokes.  I guess, whatever works for them. Just goes to show there's no one "fits all" formula to a long-lasting marriage.  But there is one vital ingredient:  Love - the verb, not the noun.  Most of what they did was an act of love for the other.  Or, perhaps, everything they did for the other was done in their own unique brand of "lovingly".  Either way, they are our couple goals.


Coolly Lit

During my flight to the US, I had the pleasure of sitting beside a really cool old lady.  She was a retired Literature teacher.  A Literature teacher! We had an amazing time talking about various topics, including our favorite literature pieces.  It was no surprise that we were both Jane Austen fans, and we talked about the characters we relate most with like two old high-school friends.  We then progressed to Robin Williams' "Dead Poets Society".  Then I told her about Neil Gaiman's "Instructions" and Haruki Murakami's surreal but accessible style.  Suffice it to say that I had one of my most stimulating conversations during a long-haul flight.

I realized, working on your passions and talking about them is one of the most underrated "secrets" of eternal youth. The minute she started talking about Literature, she lit up and looked easily 10 years younger.

Poetic Doses: Pinto Series

Peek-a-boo

Mornings used to open

A flutter of nervous excitement;

She used to watch

And wait;

But they all passed her by

Barely a glance;

Once or twice

Someone stopped;

But only for a heartbeat

Never a lifetime;

She stood against the white

Hands over her face;

She grew paler

More invisible by the day;

Then

There he was;

She counted

One, two, three ... ;

She breathed

Peered through her fingers:

"What are you doing?"

He said;

"Watching you 

watching me";

He smiled

So did she.

(Art:  Borlongan)

(Art:  Stephanie Lopez)

Oblivious

(When I first saw this sculpture, I thought it was the man who was oblivious.  But, as I looked closer at the detail, I noticed that the man's hand was upon his open chest - which was difficult to capture due to the glare.)

She walks as though willing herself to be invisible;

And yet she carries the sun in her smile.

(My heart is heavy;

How could this be, when this is happy news?)

Her touch soothes and her voice calms;

Nothing can faze me, when she is by my side.

(There he is; My heart lifts 

and crumbles in a single moment)

Nothing, until ...

She waves proudly the diamond upon her finger.

(Life waits for no one;

So stop waiting)

She carries the sun in her smile;

Her touch soothes and her voice calms;

And I

I never told her

(Steady now, my unsettled nerves;

Love, afterall, is letting go)

I breathe her in, one last time; Holding on to her, 

I smile, as my world falls apart.

(Yet I melt into his oblivious embrace;

Just one more moment; for one last time).

(Art:  Mark Justiniani)

Some people just feel like home;

Those people with whom

Time & Distance are of no consequence.

Whole, yet caged;

Or disintegrating, but free?

Sometimes

To be truly whole

Is to fade into everything.

(Steel art from Pinto Art Museum)

(Art from Pinto Art Museum)

Tell The Children

Tell the children of clear blue skies;

of cloud art, sometimes wispy, sometimes cottony;

Tell the children of  playful rain,

and the joy of dancing in it with friends;

Tell the children of  the grand mountains,

their quiet and steadfast strength;

Tell the children of the army of trees,

and their fight to keep us breathing;

Tell the children of the temperamental seas,

that, nevertheless, give so generously;

And tell the children of Noah's animals,

big or small, gentle or fearsome, all part of the circle of life.

But, most of all,

Tell the children of Men;

of their capacity 

to give and take,

to build and destroy,

to love, to hate or be indifferent.

Tell the children who they are:

The heirs of this world;

Tell them of their power

and the urgency

to protect their only heritage

NOW.

Virtual and Actual

What to do when the president declares a surprise non-working holiday?  Go to a far away museum, of course!

Pinto Museum does not only boast of a richly diverse set of artworks, but also of a beautifully well-planned layout of the grounds and architecture. It was a treat to just sit out in one of the gardens, looking out at the scenery.

While we sat under a canopy of trees, eating lunch, we noticed how many people were taking photos around the grounds.  We watched, amused, as people lined up for their photo op by a staircase.  Later, as we walked around the halls, pondering the paintings and sculptures, it was the same story.  People rushed through the halls, looking for photo op spots or cool art pieces to have their photos taken.  Very few actually stopped and truly appreciated the art pieces.

I felt sad for the artists who gave so much to every piece.  I felt sad for the audience who came and left unchanged.

The whole scene led us to a discussion on how technology, for all its capacity to connect us, has inevitably disconnected us.  For years, technology has been pushing society into a fast-paced way of life, that so much is now managed virtually.

There is so much art available on the internet now.  People can browse through them at their convenience.  But there's so much to see and so little time, that people barely take a heartbeat to look at most of them and fail to truly see each piece. Fewer, still, actually take the time to see the real thing.

(The same is true for relationships).

As a result, some fancy-looking (or fancy-packaged) "crap" are overpriced, while some real treasures are underappreciated.

Take this piece, for example.  This looks like a simple painting of two birds with  human-like legs.  In truth, it is a 96 x 96 inches piece, painstakingly made out of thread (Yes.  Thread.) and textile cloth by Raffy Napay.

This photo is a terrible representation of this piece's true grandeur upfront.  And, even upfront, it is so easy to miss the beauty in the intricacy until you actually stop and look closely.

(It is true for people, too).

(Borlongan)

Mornings used to open

A flutter of nervous excitement;

She used to watch

And wait;

But they all passed her by

Barely a glance;

Once or twice

Someone stopped;

But only for a heartbeat

Never a lifetime;

She stood against the white

Hands over her face;

She grew paler

More invisible by the day;

Then

There he was;

She counted

One, two, three ... ;

She breathed

Peered through her fingers:

"What are you doing?"

He said;

"Watching you 

watching me";

He smiled

So did she.

  

Poetic Dose: Chasing Stars

chasing stars

darkness engulfs the vast sky

just moments after the sun's parade;

and, for a heartbeat,

the emptiness seems absolute;

the pain, wrenching, as if

from love irrevocably lost;

then, with a blink, pinpricks of light ---

they appear in silent succession;

the constricting darkness gives way to

a boundless bejeweled sky;

and I --- I fall softly into its quiet embrace

of endless possibilities;

thus, this is where I will remain,

embracing the darkness, chasing stars;

as I await the promise

of my inevitable new dawn.

Happy Meetings: Single By Choice

Ever since I discovered Archangel Raphael as my perfect match, he had been orchestrating happy serendipitous meetings for me (He is, afterall, the angel of happy meetings).  Alas, the idea to chronicle them only came recently.  So, I shall start from this year's first happy meeting/s, when the coincidence was too glaring to write off as a mere coincidence.

On my way to a business trip, the driver who brought me to the airport was a single father with two children.  His wife had died giving birth to their son.  Recognizing that his wife was an only child, he made the unusual decision of staying with his in-laws.  This way his in-laws' loss was tempered with the joy of witnessing their grandchildren grow.  It's been more than 6 years since and he has not regretted his decision.

On the same day, when I landed in my destination country, what are the odds that the lady driver assigned to take me to the hotel was a single mother!  Things did not work out between her and the father of her nine-year old daughter, but they have maintained a good co-parenting arrangement.  She makes sure that her daughter spends ample time with her father's family as well.  There is no need to antagonize when they are family, afterall.

Both single parents did not feel that their circumstance was a hindrance to a romantic relationship.  If anything, it is a diamond test that will help them find the right partner, one who will love them and their child/ren in their entirety.  There is no need to rush into anything.  Like all things precious, the right love, one who recognizes and respects their responsibility as single parents, is worth waiting for. God willing, the next one will be the partner who will enrich their little family.

Prayer Before Mass

Come, Holy Spirit, I pray.  Prepare my body, mind, heart and soul to celebrate Jesus' love and sacrifice in the Holy Mass.

May I be physically disposed to attend the Mass, sufficiently comfortable or uncomfortable, as You see fit. May I find myself in a part of the Church where I can fully appreciate and take part in the celebration.  If my EQ (emotional quotient) is particularly low, please guide me to a place with the least distractions.
May my mind be open and my heart even wider to receive your special message and lesson for me today.  And may I be cognizant of it, whether it comes from the priest or other people in attendance --- like finding easter eggs in a vast garden.
May my heart be generous in recognizing, that I belong to the universal church made up of imperfect people with an even more imperfect leadership, each one with their own unique struggles in their journey of faith. May I have a heart willing to forgive when their struggles impact mine and, in turn, may I have the humility to forgive myself for my own shortcomings.
May I always maintain a grateful heart for having been accepted into the Church without a need for a spiritual IQ test.
Lastly, may my soul be properly disposed to receive the graces and blessings this highest form of prayer offers.  May I recognize, that, more than anything, the Holy Mass is a celebration of Jesus' gift of Easter.  May my heart remain full, knowing the debt that was paid through and trusting in the promise of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

I ask this, with Mary my Mother and Joseph, my foster father.

Amen.

Bigger Bear Series: He Finds You

I guess it's true what they say, the first day/month of the year basically dictates how the rest of the year would turn out.  This year started out with a business trip for me and I had been flying every month since.  Between the trips, A's school work, family/friends and the rest of my work, I didn't have much time to slow down and squeeze in some Lenten spiritual exercises.

The next thing I knew, it was the week before Holy Week and I was in Costa Rica. The most optimal flight schedule allowed me a weekend breather in the country after the hectic week.  I took the opportunity to spend time with a dear friend who lived there.  I was supposed to drive out with her to their farm on Friday, but my meetings ran over; so, I spent another night at the hotel.

As there was no rush to go to the farm, I spent the morning visiting two nearby churches. Incidentally, the two churches where the driver (who spoke no English at all!) took me were dedicated to two of my patrons:  San Raphael and Santa Ana.  What are the odds!

I was able to spend some good quiet time in both churches and I experienced a resurgence of the spirit.  It doesn't matter where you are, He finds you.

I realized how much I missed these quiet moments, that I visited the Blessed Sacrament everyday and attended Mass whenever I could since I came back.  It feels good to be found again.

Somebody Loved
By:  The Weepies

Now my feet turn the corner back home
Sun turns the evening to rose
Stars turning high up above
You turn me into somebody loved

Sunrises and Sunsets

(El Nido, Palawan Sunset by angkulet)

I am consumed

by the colours of the sun;

it haunts my dreams

and my waking hours;

i close my eyes

and i feel its warmth;

kissing,

painting my face;

a beautiful salmon pink

amidst the deep blue. 

(December 2014).

Sunrises and Sunsets have a way of pulling at my heartstrings.  It doesn't matter how many I've witnessed, each sunrise or sunset is an entirely new experience that still awes and captivates me everytime - no fail.

Sunrise by Francis Ghersci
At dawn, when purple skies begin to fade into blue, and tinges of yellow and orange start peeking through, I feel a certain excitement; like butterflies of hope fluttering from my stomach to my heart. And, when the sun bursts into an explosion of light (like new loves), it brings with it the promise of a new and beautiful day. Troubles past feel like forgotten dreams from an eternity ago and worries are swiftly washed away.  Sunrises mean nothing is impossible. Everything can be conquered.

Manila Bay Sunset by Damijan Zizek
Dusk, for all its beauty, bring with it a certain bittersweet melancholy. As the bright sun moves towards the horizon, its light gradually mellowing, I can't help but feel a form of quiet surrender for all things inevitable.  And, once the sun hits the horizon, setting the sky on fire in one final burst of effort, there is no ending (like dying loves) more beautiful nor more magnificent.  Moments after it has gone, the sun's echoes remain in the beautiful shades of salmon, blue and deep purple; much like forgiving, letting go and moving on.

Just recently, I witnessed a breathtaking sunset while in a moving car.  Like any normal person, I fumbled for my phone to catch a photo. But the photos by my unprofessional hands were a mere whistle compared to the symphony before me.  So, I abandoned my phone and immersed myself in the full experience.  And then, I realized, there are photos best taken with the heart. 

Poetic Dose: Parallel Universes

(October 2014)

i cannot say
the exact moment
nor fully comprehend
the how ---
perhaps a swift blow
from cupid's stray arrow,
or the slow burning
of daily small gestures;
or the why's ---
similarly wired brains,
the unspoken partnership
or, perhaps,
simply
the volumes spoken
from a sideways glance,
the undefined yearning
from a brief touch.

i cannot say
my exact sentiments
my heart, as conflicted
as your cryptic messages ---
tossed around in a sea
of late night exchanges,
pulled deeper in the undercurrent
of the almost-but-never-quite;
my soul, as lost
as your true meaning ---
wound up
in the rollercoaster ride
of your affections
--- or affectations?

i cannot know,
may never want to know
perhaps i should just
draw a cupful of comfort ---
these moments
of mutual tenderness
come to pass
   a wrinkle in time,
perhaps somewhere
in a parallel universe
i am
for you
the very heartbeat
that brings you to life.

The Promise of Plenty

Obviously, our first trek left us on such a high, that we made a pact to make it a regular activity.  A month and a few days later, amidst our crazy busy schedules, we were back on the road at 3 am to conquer another peak - Mt. Marami (Plenty).

True to its name, Mt. Marami gave me, and everyone in our trail group, PLENTY.

There were plenty of trails that led to the summit and several other surrounding communities. It offered the full experience.  We had to go through forest trails, rivers, heat-exposed valleys, ravines, very narrow side-of-the-mountain-is-this-a-friggin'-trail trails, inclines and descents in varying degrees (some really close to 90 degrees) and a literal rock wall. A ROCK WALL.

Oh! And, yes, it took PLENTY of steps.  33,500, to be exact, according to my iPhone.  Needless to say, we also needed plenty of time to complete the trek.

So ... I, therefore, conclude, Mt. Marami definitely delivered.  And, because of that, I have plenty of "A-ha's" to share.

It pays to be prepared.

Call us nerds, competitive or committed, but, after our Mt. Batulao trek, we debriefed and talked about what we could do better.  

1. Lip balm. I carried my lip balm in my most accessible pocket, so I could apply liberally anytime.  No windburns this time :)
2. Good pair of trail shoes.  In Batulao, I wore a snug-fit trekking sandals which tortured my feet.  So, I invested on a pair of outdoor trail shoes (kapit, Salomon!), a size bigger than my actual shoe size.  A tip I got from trail guides and the trekker sales person who helped me at the shop.
3. Compression socks are the bomb!  I threw in a pair of compression socks, which, without a doubt, helped reduce my feet's after-trail soreness.  Despite being a longer and more difficult trail, I was not an invalid the following day.
4. Sleeves help.  I got some itchies from the tall weeds in Batulao, so I borrowed my sister-in-law's biking sleeves.  No itchies that left pocky dots on my arms.  Yey!
5. Compact trekking backpack.  The bag I used in my first hike was much too big and heavy.  My back ached even though my hiking buddy adjusted it for me.  I'm glad my brother talked me into buying a more compact trekking backpack more suitable for my compact size.
6. Hiking poles are a huge help.  We borrowed a pair of hiking poles which were a big help during the many ascents and descents.
7. Music.  Everything is so much more pleasant with music!

Other than that, we had the standard trail food (can't go hungry), water, sunblock and cover ups.

Keep your eyes on the goal.

When we started our trek, our trail guides pointed at an obscure point, its highest point, on top of the mountain.  They said, that was where we were headed. 

What?! 

I fainted inside.  I really did.  

I wondered whether I would even make it halfway through.  But I took a deep breath and took my first step towards my goal.  While it looked daunting in the beginning, it helped a lot to look up every now and then and see where I was in reference to the summit.  It served as encouragement and motivation to see my progress.

The important lesson here is to measure progress in reference to my goal --- and not against other people's progress.  Progress, after all, is relative.  No two people would have exactly the same goals and timings to achieve them.  Comparing yourself to other people would only give you undue stress (and stress, they say, causes cancer).

Stop and take rests.

And, because the only person you are racing against is yourself, it is completely fine to stop and take rests.  As you catch your breath, take the time to breathe the fresh air and enjoy the sights.  Moreover, it is essential to rest, recover and rejuvenate yourself.  You'll be amazed at the momentum from the burst of renewed energy vs. trudging on drearily.

Most constraints are in your head.

The summit was composed of three separate rocks.  We had to traverse the side of the rocks to go from one to the other.  We had to climb the rock wall in order to get to the main summit (the bigger rock formation).  I thought to myself, "Great.  You always wanted to do wall climbing.  Well, here you go!"  

And, as if that wasn't enough, we came to a fissure in the rock.  I will have to jump across the gap.  I stopped, assessed the gap and decided out loud, "It's too wide for me. I'm too short.  I won't make the jump."  My friend didn't say anything.  He merely looked at me incredulously and shot a glance at our tiny 9-year old guide.

Right.

I jumped.

Help comes when you need it; sometimes, when you least expect it and from the most unlikely people.

On our descent, I was managing myself down the rock wall when I couldn't find my footing.  Out of nowhere, there was a hand outstretched towards me.  A trekker from another group helped me get down safely from the wall. And I'm glad, that instead of just muttering my appreciation, I looked up to give him a proper "thank you".  I found myself face-to-face with the first (and, probably, only) attractive non-gay male specimen in the trails that day. (Thank you, Lord!)

No, we did not have time to exchange anything more than the standard thank-you-you're-welcome dialogue. 

Perhaps on the next trail.

Ask for help.

Because Mt. Marami had plenty of paths, it was so easy to get lost.  A few times we lost track of our other groupmates on the forks in the paths. The instructions from our trail guides were to either stop and wait for help or call out for help vs. trying to figure it out on our own.  Faster and safer.

I realized it's a sound advise for life in general. How many times have we tried to proudly figure things out our own and found ourselves going around in circles?

Trials bind.

When we started out the hike, we all stayed within our little groups.  As the hike progressed and the trail became more challenging, the groups slowly merged - supporting and encouraging each other, finding humor in the arduous trails.  At the end of the trek, a number of us gave each other high-fives and sat together around a sari-sari store for our most satisfying no-frills meal.

Make connections.

The trek took 10 to 11 hours to complete.  That was a lot of time spent around strangers, ample time to make connections beyond the usual small talk and courtesy helps offered.  The good thing about trekking is that it forces you to interact with different people. Depending on how fast or slow you are, you get a chance to talk to different individuals within or even outside of your group.  

I got to know our junior local trail guide who immediately won my heart.  I found out our Australian member is actually taking a break from her masters (or doctorate) studies to do some volunteer work here in the Philippines.  The owner of one of the houses who had an abundance of buko does not actually sell buko because it's much to heavy to transport.  They also travel farther to than the nearby town to do business in order to earn more.

When you focus too much on speed and finishing faster, aside from ending up spent too soon, you also miss out on making meaningful connections.  No one is chasing you.  Enjoy the trek.

Not all paths are created equal, but each one has a unique lesson to offer.

Mt. Marami has several paths.  They say all paths eventually lead to the summit.  Some just take longer, while some are shorter.  Some are more difficult.  Some are scenic.  Some go through communities ... and who knows what kind of connections we could have made with the locals there?

Each path offers something unique to the entire experience.  Each one has a valuable lesson to teach. Each path will build you and help you unlock capabilities you never knew you had.    No path is a waste of time.

So, no matter what path you are on now, don't fret.  You'll get there --- where and when you should be.

Where God is, Life is Beautiful.

The trail boasts of a majestic ancient tree by the river, several patches of bamboo groves (one of which had a cathedral-like canopy of bamboos), rows of weeds with brightly-colored flowers, wild raspberries and black berries, a whisper of a river, artful array of rugged and smooth rocks, mountains all around and clear blue skies overhead.

For all its thoughtless randomness, it was the grandest, most beautiful garden I have ever laid my eyes on.

And I thought, even the remotest, most desolate places are not forgotten by God.  He takes care of the littlest things in the most loving way.  

He craves to take care of us.  

The key is simply to let Him in ... and "He will make all things beautiful in His time."

Poetic Dose: Soulspeak