Holy Wednesday: "Keep Your Eyes On Me. We Are Going Up To Jerusalem"

     On Holy Wednesday, Ate Aidah and I prepared for the upcoming 3 days of the retreat.  I set my intentions, more of questions, for the retreat; while Ate Aidah reminded me that the answers might not come.  What is important is the journey; the experience of reconnecting and re-establishing my relationship with Jesus.  She reminded me to hold on to the knowledge that Jesus is journeying with me and of His invitation from our earlier conversation:  "Keep your eyes on Me."

       After our session, I thought I'd prepare myself by going through the readings and taking Cardinal Tagle's Online Recollection.  

Holy Wednesday's Responsorial Psalm:  Psalm 69:33

"Lord, in Your great love, answer me."
"See, you lowly ones, and be glad; you who seek God, may your hearts revive!"

    

    Once Cardinal Tagle's Online Recollection began, I knew it was an inspired idea.  His recollection is anchored on Matthew 20:18 - "Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem." and focuses on Jesus's invitation to journey with Him as He fulfills His mission:  to suffer, die AND rise out of Love.  Doing so, according to Cardinal Tagle, requires conversion or renewal in hope, faith and charity.  To achieve this, we need to go back to the 3 disciplines of Lent:  prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

The following is a summary of what I learned from the Recollection.

Renewed Faith - Fasting

    Faith is accepting AND living the truth revealed in Jesus Christ.  Jesus said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life."  In faith, we accept that Jesus is the Truth.  In accepting that He is the Truth, we know that He is the Way to Life; the way to fulness and fulfillment of life.

    What does this have to do with Fasting? 

    Society has taught us that fulfillment of life is equal to SELF-fulfillment; getting what I want for myself.  Fasting is a form of self-denial, which helps us find fulness of life in Jesus rather than in the self.  

    Watchout:  The world would rather satisfy us so that we don't find satisfaction or fulfillment in Jesus; so that we will not accept Jesus's Truth.

Renewed Hope - Prayer

    Hope is focused on the future; hoping for the Father's mercy through Jesus's death and resurrection; hoping for the future that the Father holds for us through Jesus.  It is believing that history does not end in our mistakes ... or the sin that crucifies Love.  It is receiving with open heart the Father's forgiveness.

    Sometimes we are too focused on our failures and limitations.  (This was my favorite past time since  Anton's passing.  I went through all my failures and all the things I could have done better).  This leads to judgement and despair, which is contagious and can corrupt communities and countries.

    We recover Hope through PRAYER.

    Prayer silences the noise and enables us to hear and listen to the Father; to shed light in our lives; to inspire us; to offer, once again, the Love of Jesus. 

    Since Anton's passing, I stopped talking to Him.  I prayed the rosary and attended Mass by rote.  As they say, "Fake it till you make it." Keep at it with your head.  And, when you're ready, the heart will follow.  Those "mechanical" prayers acted as one-sided conversations with Him where I was only half-listening. Occasionally something would hit me, but I did not fully engage.  I guess this was my way of giving Him the cold shoulder.

    But, as with any relationship standoffs, it only prolonged my agony. (To be fair to me, I did not even realize I was upset at Him!).  I needed to be open to Him and lay my heart out to Him.  Only when I talk to Him will I understand the depths of His Love for me.  Only then will I understand the depths of His mercy.  And then I will have the courage to forgive myself and LIVE with the renewed hope that my failure/s is/are not the end of my story.

Renewed Love (Conversion to Love) - Almsgiving

    Love means to love in the footsteps of Jesus; the way He loved, showing concern and compassion for ALL, especially those treated harshly or non-existent or non-persons by society.  Love rejoices in seeing the other grow, even those that have wronged us.  Love suffers when you see others suffering.  Jesus's brand of Love makes you see and feel for EVERYONE.

    Almsgiving is not just donating, but caring for one another, especially for those who suffer.  It is offering with love, joy and simplicity.

    "The life of a community is sustained by the little acts of kindness; little acts that make people feel important, seen and loved."

 For the past months I had been zombie-walking through life, alive but not living.  And, although I know that healing does not happen overnight, I know the retreat is His way of resuscitating me.  Hearing Cardinal Tagle's recollection was a defibrillator.  After several months, I got a pulse!

From the Internet

Epiphany on Holy Monday

    It's my first Holy Week without my son.  Other than my silent retreat at Trese Martires 10 years ago, Holy Week is another sacred time for Anton and family.  I would normally come up with activities for both of us.  That is why, this year, I did not really feel like engaging in any Holy Week activity.  But a friend invited me to join the IHS Online Retreat, so I signed up for the generic one.  I did not want to open myself up to a random spiritual director ... until I saw a familiar name in the Zoom session.  

    At the last minute, I requested to get into the directed retreat, specifically asking for Ate Aidah.  As fate would have it, she confirmed as spiritual director also on the same day.  Whether I requested for her explicitly or not, she would have been assigned to me 😉

    Knowing what had happened, the first activity she gave me was to write a "Thank you" letter to Jesus. So, I setup my quiet space on the floor in my room -- complete with laptop table, mini altar, candle and the Spotify IHS Retreat Playlist.  Now it was time to get into my quiet space in my head.  

    I settled onto my yoga mat and tried to be still; to empty my mind and allow Him to just come and move me.  I took myself to my favorite prayer scene:  facing the setting sun at the Grand Canyon.  It's only been a mere few seconds, but I felt like I could not get into the right disposition.  I could not BE still. I felt like giving up and started to say, "I can't ... "

    Then His face appeared from my right side.  

    He had been sitting (weirdly out of my peripheral vision) just beside me.  "I'm here," He said.  Then He was quiet, while I felt sobs welling up from my chest.  He kept looking out at the scene as I tried to collect myself.

    "I'm here," He repeated.  And I broke down.  

    He hugged me to Himself, "I've always been here."

    Ate Aidah wanted me to start by writing a "Thank you" letter.  And, although I know in my head that there is so much to be grateful for, I just don't feel it.  There is this huge block in my heart.

    "Alam ko nagtatampo ka sa'kin" ("I know you resent Me") 

    It was only then that it dawned on me.  I never even realized it.  For months I thought I only resented Mama Mary and San Raphael whom we prayed to during Anton's final moments and at the ER.  But He was right.  Since that day at the ER I had not talked to Him.  I had not visited Him in our quiet place. Unknowingly, I pinned this on Him. Afterall, He knew it was going to happen this way and He did nothing.

    He continued to hold me to Himself.  Quiet.  "Bakit Mo binawi? (Why did You take Him back?) Your greatest gift to me ... "God giveth and God taketh"  Is that it?" 

    "Hindi Ko binawi. (I did not take Him back). He is still yours ... just different. Evolved.  And you have to evolve with him."

    "Bakit ang sakit sakit pa rin? (Why does it still hurt so badly?)  I feel so lost."

    

    Then from my left side Anton hugs me, "Mom ..."

    It was probably a good 15 to 20 minutes of just cathartic crying.

Sunset at the Grand Canyon North Rim Photograph by Donald Pash

    Then I looked at the list of readings for reflection.  I chose the one entitled:  "I Am Mary of Nazareth" (Luke 1:26 - 38). It was the Annunciation scene.  The following verses struck me:

• "God sent the angel Gabriel ..." - to me! (Anton has 3 names.  The 3rd is Gabriel).
• "Peace be with you!  The Lord is with you and has greatly blessed you!" - A part of me had thought that Anton was taken from me because I was unworthy of him.  The encounter affirmed that it is untrue.  My greatest blessing was not taken from me, but evolved into something beyond my wildest imagination. I do not fully comprehend it yet, but I am beginning to understand.
• "For there is nothing that God cannot do" - Surely He can heal my brokkenness.
• "I am the Lord's servant.  May it happen to me as you have said." - No matter how painful.
• "And the angel left her" - Anton has left me physically, but he was never gone.

    I have read this story many times.  But, at that very moment, it felt like a deeply personal conversation with Jesus.  I sat for a few more minutes reflecting and relishing its new meaning.  And I knew my healing process has begun.

    

Namaste: Driving for Divorce

I was so happy to that my Uber driver for the long drive to my Aunt's place was a lady.  I was even more delighted to know that she was a gregarious individual with whom I share the same general life principles: diversity and inclusion, equal rights, the value of freedom and the responsibility that goes with it.  We liked the same individuals who are change agents and prime movers of society.

I asked her why she started driving an Uber.  Her answer was as unexpected as everything about the ride.  "I am driving for divorce, honey!"  (I'm sorry ... what?!).  Her husband was cheating on her with a younger woman, while leaching on her. She knows her worth and will not let anyone trample all over her, so she's setting herself up with enough to file for a divorce. I would have stood up and saluted her had I not been in the car.  You go, girl!

Needless to say, the 1 hour drive flew by so quickly.  And, before I knew it, I was almost at my Aunt's place and completely forgot to message her that I was coming!

Image from Internet

Namaste: Different Facets of Love

His friends call him the gentle giant, sauntering around his garden and tending to his patches of greens and flowers.  In the few times I interacted with him, I understood why his friends were both proud and protective of him.

I have never met someone with a bottomless reserve for love.

He is the most loving husband and devoted father to his girls and grandchildren.  Imagine switching to a pure vegan diet in support of his wife, learning ways to cook delectable vegan dishes along the way.

He is a great lover of this beautiful world we live in.  Every year he goes on a trip outside of his home, appreciating the the unique beauty of the place and enjoying open and honest interactions with everyone he meets.  And, even though not all experiences are fun, he always finds the silver lining and the humor in every situation; never judging anyone who may have wronged him.

On top of that, he makes an annual trip to serve a remote community, helping build their homes along with other friends from his church.  He serves with pure love, expecting nothing in return, being happy at just loving.

And while he has the softest heart, easily given to tears; he has the strongest faith, anchored on pure filial trust in God. I hope, one day, to grow into the kind of person he is, God's love personified and happy dancing everyday.

Namaste: Chasing New Dreams

Art by Inadoodles on Instagram

Beauty is a colleague-turned-friend with whom I had the opportunity to spend time during my last business trip.  While we have had several business trips together, it was the first time I had her all to myself.  And, boy, did she open up so radiantly when devoid of all inhibitions and expectations.

Beyond the beautiful face, her Math smarts and her sharp wit, she is one of the kindest most sensitive souls I have known.  I never would have thought that we shared the same interest for psychology, particularly early child development and special needs, until this trip. We talked about our discoveries on how childhood events and interactions shape the persons we grow up into; and how we can proactively help ourselves to heal, forgive and grow from our painful pasts.

From these conversations I glimpsed how sensitive she is to everyone around her, especially to people she loves. Her face lit up with so much love when she talked about her husband, her sister's kids and the rest of her family. And she bubbled over with excitement at the new dreams and hopes she has for her family.  I can't help but hope and pray for her success in chasing these new dreams and reaching new personal heights (and highs).

Namaste: Skylight, Feathers and Healing

Funny thing, inspiration.  Sometimes it creeps on you and sometimes it just lands squarely on your lap, without warning nor context.  And you're left to run with it before really making sense of it.

One fine day in February, a friend of mine forwarded a post via Instagram.  She did not explain it to me.  I suppose, she trusted I would understand.  We have this little thing between us, being kindred spirits not often blessed to actually touch.

The post was from @yogatips defining and expounding on what "Namaste"means:  "The light within me honours/sees the light within you."

So much meaning for just one word.  And, I realized, it was the perfect word to sum up my latest trip.

I met 4 individuals (Namaste series) whose light touched mine profoundly.

Skylight, Feathers and Healing

I first met ST a couple of years ago.  When I walked into her room, I was filled with a tremendous sense of peace.  Subdued light filtered through the skylight that gave me a peek of the clear blue sky outside.  It was lined with feathers, a dream catcher and a rustic butterfly art - each piece simple, uncluttered and distinct.  There was a quiet fire going as nature music played and some form of aromatherapy wafted through the air.  It felt like a sanctuary ... with a massage table in the middle.

I would describe her as a modern-day sage or priestess.  Her voice is soft, her spirit softer.  She asks the same one question as my heart melts under her kind blue eyes, open and devoid of judgement.  I come for a massage.  But her greatest gift is the way she cradles my soul, making it whole again so that it can soar once more.  Maybe that's what the feathers are for.

During this visit, I found myself  finally able to filter through the clutter in my heart that had been weighing on me for months.  She did not offer any solutions.  Like a true sage, she merely unlocked what had been churning inside me and left me to figure it out.

"Sometimes all we need is to hear it out loud to know if it feels right in our heart."

Skylight image from internet

Christmas Stories

It's been awhile since my last entry.  Since then, there were so many stories and topics that excited me, but was too busy (or tired) to write at the very moment the inspiration hit. "I'll write it tomorrow", I said; but, by then, it didn't seem good enough or the excitement fizzled out. 
So here are some stories, that highlighted the Christmas spirit for me, to exercise my writing muscles. 

***

This Christmas holiday, I decided to grab the opportunity for a 2-week break.  I had no special plans.  Just some down time and breather from work to catch up on chores and, hopefully, get some reading in.  First few days were wonderfully spent on catching up on sleep.  Yes, I now get those little reminders from my body that I am old, and it was a good time to finally heed them.

The days that followed were spent helping out on some last-minute Christmas preparations for my mom.  Once, she asked me to accompany her to Mercury Drug Store, hurriedly picking up a wrapped gift from her pile of gifts for giveaway. (She has this system that helps her know what the gifts are even though they are unlabeled. Still amazes me).
"Are we stopping by somewhere else?" I asked.
"No.  I hope the nice pharmacist is on duty."
The store had a line for regular customers and a special line for seniors and persons with disability. There was an old guy with a walker ahead of us in the line. He sat on the chair with his backpack, sorting out the prescriptions and figuring out what to buy.  I remembered thinking, how sad it was that this old man, who could hardly walk, has no one to buy his medicines for him.  Just then my mom said, "Oh, good. She's here."
I looked up to see a simple lady with a bright smile. She patiently attended to the old man, helping him figure out the medicines he needed to replenish, and rejoicing with him when the total fit into his budget.  She took the medicines to the cashier so she could ring them up, and returned all excited, "Happy birthday po 'tay.  Akala mo ha!" (Happy birthday, gramps.  You thought you could get away with it, didn't you!).  The rest of the folks in the store - customers and staff alike - greeted the old man.  He choked up a little and kept thanking everyone while he walked out of the store.  I felt both happy and sad for the old man and wondered how many more are in the same situation.
The lady was already helping my mom, by the time I recovered from what happened. I understood why my mom liked her so much.  She is happy with her work and genuinely cares about her customers, especially the older ones.  I wondered if she volunteered or management simply noticed her big heart, thus assigned her to the seniors/PWD counter. Either way, I'm glad.  And I'm happy Mama brought her a gift, which surprised her immensely.  All I could manage was, "Thank you for all that you're doing."
I wish I could have said more. Perhaps I'll drop in later this week.

***

Filipinos (with the exception of myself) are known for their singing prowess.  And Christmas is the time when this is most showcased with chorale groups going around homes, offices and churches singing Christmas carols.

This year we got to see several amazing ones, mostly coming from provinces.  These are choirs from parishes whose offertory earnings are insufficient to cover for the church's expenses; much less, fund for programs for their parishioners.
It started with a group of seminarians serenading at our house even before the 9-day novena masses started. I was at work, but my mom took a video and I was floored at how great they were.  God obviously knows how to choose the cream of the crop!
In one Misa De Gallo Mass a group came from a remote province in Bicol, Pili.  They were a group of students putting themselves through college by singing.  They were dressed in traditional Filipino attire at 5 am in the morning, singing and dancing their hearts out, and appealing to the church goers for whatever help they can provide.  They will be in Manila for 6 days, going around parishes.
In another Misa De Gallo Mass, we were treated to a bunch of jolly Rogate seminarians, singing to get support for their outreach and also their studies.  We are in dire shortage of priests.  How can we export missionary priests, when we don't even have enough to minister to all our remote islands? I was happy to see such a rich harvest and prayed that all will find the grace to carry through to ordination.
Then my mom asked us to join them for their workers' and staff's yearend Mass.  It wasn't even their Christmas party yet.  Then I saw some of my parents' friends in attendance and wondered why they were there.  When the Mass began and the choir sang, I knew why this impromptu Mass was organized.  The choir came from another parish in Bicol that earned only 1400 pesos and a few harvest/livestock offerings each week.  They travelled ~12 hours just to sing for us.

These choirs not only showcase amazing talent, but also how amazing the human spirit is, rising above life's challenges. More than anything, they show the value of belonging to a good community, pulling together to achieve their goals and pushing each other to keep moving forward amidst the difficulties.  And I am happy to see all of the generous souls, reaching out to support in whatever way they can to raise these communities and individuals up.

***

Last Friday, my son came up to me and asked me to wake him up early the following day.  He was going to Mass with Lolo (Papa goes to Mass at the Miraculous Medal Shrine every Saturday) and was hoping I could join them, because Lola might not be able to join.  I was surprised because I normally just go on the first Saturdays and he would grumble everytime I asked him to join.
"I want to confess, Mom", he said, before I could even ask.
(A couple of days before the Misa De Gallo Masses ended, I had a conversation with him, explaining the implications of a misdemeanor I just recently uncovered. He stopped receiving Holy Communion then and was anxious to be able to receive it again).
After Mass, we went to one of our favorite restaurants where there is a deaf-mute parking attendant that we've known for years.  When I ordered breakfast for him and they called him, he glanced my way and thanked me.
There was a lady at one of the outside tables, selling blankets from Ilocos (The staff in the restaurant tolerated her little setup).  Our friend gestured at her to share the meal with him. She politely declined. I told Anton and Papa about it. "Wow!", was all Papa could manage, smiling.
Then he told us about Mang Tino.  He was an old man peddling newspapers at the parking lot of another establishment, when we were still kids.  I remember how Papa had a soft spot for him.  Last Saturday, he told us the full story.
He noticed Mang Tino eating the leftovers from the tables at a restaurant.  He approached the old man and offered to buy him breakfast. Mang Tino shyly declined, saying "Ok na ako, brod" (I'm already good, brod).  Papa insisted, bought him burger for snacks later and advanced for the old man's lunch as well.  Mang Tino was crying, "Sobra sobra na ito, brod" (This is too much, brod).  For years, Papa would buy newspaper from the old man and treat him to meals every now and then.
Then I just stopped seeing the old man.  Papa mentioned he got sick and couldn't sell newspapers anymore.  What I didn't know, was he had talked to the parish priest to take the old man in until he can find a facility for him.  Then my parents made arrangements with DSWD (Department of Social Welfare and Development) to bring Mang Tino to a senior facility.  The old man was hesitant, insisting he can still earn a living selling newspapers.  Papa told him that he didn't have to and shouldn't do that anymore.  On the day the DSWD came, my parents came to see Mang Tino off.  He fumbled as he cried, thanking my parents for all that they had done, so Papa gave him his handkerchief.
"How would you feel if you saw your father eating scraps?", Papa said, ending his story.  I realized Mang Tino's slight build, manner of walking and mild demeanor resembled our grandfather's.

I had always wanted to get involved in outreach programs for children, but have also been wondering if there are enough good facilities for seniors, too.  This reminded me of a program in a European country, where a home for the aged was regularly visited by kids from a daycare or pre-school. The program gave the kids something to look forward to beyond gadgets, enjoying the wisdom and amazing stories of olden times; while the older folks enjoy the kids' vitality, wide-eyed curiosity and honest humor.

I had been wanting to replicate it in the Philippines.  Perhaps this was a little nudge?

19 And Some

A few months ago I celebrated 19 years of being a "corporate slave", just a year shy of our service center's 20th year of  establishment.  I was honored as one of the center's pioneers at the Gala a couple of weeks ago. At that moment, it felt nothing more than a loyalty award that highlighted my age (and everyone knows that's the first rule against successful female engagement ... tsk tsk tsk!).  Looking around at everyone I was up on stage with, I felt my corporate achievements appallingly mediocre in comparison. It made me look back on all the years I burned the midnight oil, deliriously working to meet a deadline. For sure, whatever breakthrough initiatives I delivered then is now passe. A terribly melancholic thought on a day of celebration; to realize that ~20 years have gone by and I had nothing major to show for it.

Then it came to me: the ten million coffee breaks, ambush lunches and dinner dates.  I would have left a long time ago had it not been for these. I realized, the best moments in my corporate life came from: (1) random emails from friends who were promoted, letting me know how I had been a huge influence; (2) skype (or whatever older versions we had) messages from familiar names thanking me for hiring them ... or coaching them out; (3) local and overseas calls at normal and odd hours for urgent career or life mentoring; (4) surprise visits from my old kiddos, braving south traffic and toll fees, just for a catch up; and (5) being asked to be a wedding sponsor (despite being young and SINGLE! Yes, this definitely takes the cake) .

I couldn't help but smile to myself, realizing how God knows the workings of my mind and heart enough to send me little shooting stars leading up to the event:

• A friend telling me he kept an informal training I put together on my coaching and people management principles
• Another friend asking me how I turned around a non-performer into a top performer
• A number of previous "babies" who said they kept my notes and "tough love" letters as references they go back to until now (how odd they would tell me this around the same time, too!)

My heart is full.

That is why, when I was offered another Operations "gig", I said yes.  I'm ready to get back to the saddle and run with my passion for organization shaking and building.

Happy 20th, MSC!

Coming Back Home To Me

Tell me of the hidden struggles

All the unnamed pains

And I will tell you

Of the glorious view from here.

Mt. Pamitinan

I remember Monsignor Gabriel telling me once, "I don't know why they call it mid-life crisis, when it is such a beautiful phase." I've been stuck in "crisis" for years. And, although it's been a hell of a rough ride so far, it's definitely been beautiful.

A month ago, I attended a seminar-workshop called Reparenting the Child Within (RCW), which I had been trying to fit into my schedule since February.  It took months for my schedule to align with the RCW weekend.  But, as the facilitator mentioned on the first day, it was the perfect batch (and time) for me.  From the time I started on my mid-life journey, I had been on a self-healing quest.  RCW was the perfect culmination.  It reinforced my learnings, thus far; demystified the process; and closed out the loopholes.  It is an essential I would recommend to everyone (from age 25) --- regardless of life phase they are in.

The 2.5-day weekend seemed too long for a seminar-workshop.  But it was one jam-packed weekend with the strength of a million therapy sessions.  I will not go through my entire experience and spoil it for you guys.  Let me just say, that it was a Coming Home to ME.

In that weekend I learned:

• I was brought into this world whole and full of grace ... 
• and I can return to my original wonder child.
• I am wounded, but not broken.
• I am my responsibility and nobody else's.
• I can only give if I am filled ...
• and I can (and must) fill me.
• I know my truths ...
• and I will live them ...
• because I can (fix me)
• because HE has given me all I need to be beautiful Me. 

Come to think of it, it felt like finally unlocking that treasure chest you searched far and wide, and even dove underwater for ... to find a mirror inside.  However anti-climactic or cliche the weekend plot seemed to be, it was only then that I truly felt fully unwedged from my being stuck.  

As it turned out, the only way forward is inward.

KAPAYAPAAN: A Weekend About Peace (Part 1 - #Peacified)

Representatives from different communities
leading the group prayer. 

September 29 was the #Peacified event of my son's school, Creative Learning Paths, and its partner organizations.  It is an annual Peace Fair organized as part of the "Teach Peace, Build Peace" Movement and participated in by schools catering to Christians, Muslims and Indigenous communities.

I didn't want to go because, honestly, I would rather help my sister (Inadoodles) teach her Art Class at CBTL Bistro in BGC than melt in my son's outdoor school activity. But it was my son's first major school activity outside of school and he was really looking forward to it.  I'm glad we attended.

The event, although it did not disappoint in its promise of extreme heat, more than made up with the activities and the booths.



PEACE BUDDY

The best part of the program was that of pairing up kids from different schools to finish a set of activities in their "peaceport" together.  This gave each child that joined a first hand interaction with another child who was brought up very differently, inculcating a mindset of diversity and inclusion.

A few weeks before the event, the parents had to sign up their kids for this part of the program.  I left the option open and told my son what I thought about it, but told him that I am letting him decide for himself. I didn't want to force him into an interaction and end up disappointing (or frustrating) him and his potential buddy.

My son's buddy was a Muslim boy, Mohammad.

I was so happy when he decided to sign up for it.  On the day itself, though, I was a bit worried about how my son would react.  I forgot to brief him on the ride over (Yes, he needs to be prepared emotionally and mentally).  But when they were called, he did not hesitate to join Mohammad with a smile and even went in for a high-five.  (#ProudMomMoment).

I shadowed them for awhile until he said, "Mom, you can go around the booths by yourself" - a silent assurance that he's got it, as well as, a veiled plea for me to buzz off.

PEACE BOOTHS

There were a number of booths with various materials on Peace.  It was only then that I realized the broad scope and the diverse meaning of Peace.  Peace is also a kind of spectrum!  It means different things to different people and, yet, if you really get down to its very core, we all want the same kind of peace.

The booths that caught my attention:

• Teach Peace, Build Peace booth.  The booth had tarps on the movement's main strategies: (1) Nurturing Peace in the Heart of Every Child; (2)  Building Peace Heroes Alliance; and (3) Institutionalizing Peace Education for All.

Teach Peace Build Peace

• Christianity booth. It had a reading lounge area with pillows and lots of quick easy-read Bible story books and lives of saints. There was a huge board just outside where anyone can post their prayers and thoughts on peace. Going through what the kids put up on the board was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

          

• Islam booth. The booth had various reading materials and cultural effects that highlighted Muslim beliefs and way of life.  There was a board with some basic teachings which, I realized, had its corresponding teachings in Christianity.  Outside the booth was another board with prayers and peace thoughts as well. What I read in this board was not too different from what I read on the Christianity board. 

      

• Aeta booth. My son enjoyed going through this booth as the Aetas brought various unique products made of plants they grow.  I saw some toys that were reminiscent of my childhood.  The kids marveled at the simple yet ingeniously functional toys.

      

• The Army booth.  Yes, the military was there and they had no guns.  They even had male and female soldier mascots; and a photobooth that let the kids wear different uniforms ... even a camouflage that made them look like part of the foliage!
• The "-ism" booth.  I forgot what it was called (Haha!).  But it had different kinds of games that the peace buddies had to complete together.  There was one that highlighted all the different ways people tend to discriminate these days.

Going through the booths was eyeopening for me and, I realized, there is so much more I need to teach my son (and myself) about peace.  

SURPRISE TREAT

While I wandered around the booths by myself, I stumbled upon one of our previous neighbors I grew up with.  I always considered her as one of my little sisters and, apparently, she considered me as an older sister.  In fact, that's what she said when she introduced me to her boyfriend.  While our kids mingled with school friends and new friends, the two of us had a marathon catch-up over iced coffee, while dutifully taking photos and videos of our kids.

We were both very happy to find out, that, without our prompting (or conniving), our kids met each other in school and hit it off instantly --- even though they belong to different grade levels with very different dispositions (her daughter is an introvert, while my son is an extrovert).  It just goes to show how much we are limiting ourselves once we start putting labels on people.

That said, knowing that my son has an "older sister" watching his back in school definitely gives me some peace of mind.

THE END OF THE FAIR

We had to leave before my son's class had their presentation, since we had to catch an anticipated Mass.  (We had a scheduled Sunday hike the following day and wanted to make sure we don't miss it).  While walking towards the car, my son thanked me for taking him to the peace fair.  I took the opportunity to debrief with him and exchange thoughts on the events of the day.

Me:  "Why did you ask me to talk to Mohammad?"

A:  "Because I don't know what to talk about and you always do"

Me:  "You should have tried looking for something in common"

A:  "I did.  We both like Art ... and games"

Me:  "And?"

A:  "We made a peace poster"

Me:  "That's it?  Did you finish the 'peaceport' activities?"

A:  "Yes po ... but I wanted to be with my friends, too."

I sighed.  That meant he ditched Mohammad as soon as they finished all the tasks.  I had hoped they would hit it off.  I debated whether to go into a lecture or to park it for another day.  I parked it and decided to talk about the interesting stuff I saw at the booths.  "Read this," I said, handing over my phone with a photo of a Muslim kid's prayer to Allah.  He glanced at it and gave it right back.

Me:  "Did you read it?"

A:  "Yes po, but it doesn't even matter because it's for Allah"

I looked at him in dismay. "I can't believe you just said that!  Allah is the Muslim's version of God.  How do you think Mohammad will feel about what you said?"  My son turned pale and then looked at me in horror at the realization. I piled on, "How would you feel if Mohammad dismissed our God the way you did his Allah?"

A: "I get it now, Mom. I know.  I'm sorry. I am still trying to understand and be respectful."

Social interactions and sensitivities do not come as naturally or as easily for people in the spectrum.  A lot of the social actions, reactions and behaviors need to be taught and hammered into them.  They follow patterns they learn and make them into rules.  But the right reaction to a situation may not always be the same.  There are other factors that come into play that help us determine the right behavior. It is in this subjectivity and discretion where the neuroatypical often falter ... and where neurotypicals need to give them more concessions.

My son was taught to be a staunch Catholic.  His reaction came from years of pounding on him the Catholic doctrines and beliefs.  Apparently, I have not done a very good job at teaching him about  Christ's brand of Love and what He meant by universal Church.  

I soldier on.  So, help me God.

My son's and his peace buddy's peace poster

Tour of Luzon: From Down South to Up North in 4 Days (Part 2 - Bolinao)

What to do when you're out cold all day due to painkillers so that you're wide awake all night?  Write the long-overdue Part 2.

Coordinating a trip among very busy individuals can be very challenging.  And this is how I ended up with a roadtrip marathon weekend.  After our glorious off-the-grid 3-day vacation in Calaguas, I had to make a pit stop at Bolinao, Pangasinan (oh, only about 650 km away from Calaguas.  Thankfully, my sister came along as my alternate driver) to meet Fr. Jun Ranera, RCJ. a priest friend who manages a thriving organic farm.  The farm is meant to be a learning site for organic farming, create livelihood for the local community and potentially help other farming communities around the country.  

It has to be said.  That EDSA bit right before NLEX entrance was nightmarish (and that is an understatement!), but, once we reached the expressway, it was smooth sailing all the way.  I enjoyed traversing the long strip of road flanked by the Sierra Madre mountain ranges on one side and rows of farm fields on the other. The mountain ranges were a sight to behold, standing out from a background of blue sky and wispy white clouds. And I thought to myself, this would have been even more beautiful had the mountains not been barren from too much logging. I also noticed untended farm lands and thought it a pity that we import food products when we can produce them here.

Photo By: Inadoodles

The Rogate Oasis Organic Farm (ROOF) in Bolinao, Pangasinan, houses a range of fruit and nut trees, vegetables, edible flowers, rice fields, a diverse set of organic farm animals ... and VermiWorms. They are also prepping their old wells for organic fish farming! (All photos below by Inadoodles.  And don't mind the squash.  Apparently, it doesn't want to be squashed in between the tomatoes and the cashews.)

Over a delicious lunch of Tinolang Manok, Inihaw na Bangus and Pinakbet, Fr. Jun talked to us about the joys and challenges of starting up an organic farm and a learning site at that. There is still much work to be done, but the land is promising and the endeavor, a passion worth pursuing (if not a must).  One small step at a time. These are what I learned:

• It takes time to rehabilitate or cleanse a land that previously used chemical fertilizers.  But it can be done; is worth the investment; and the right thing to do --- not just for the consumer's health, but for the environment.
• The farm is a mini ecosystem.  There are no wastes. (1) Plants and fruits (even fruit peelings) not fit for selling are fed to the animals. (2) Rainwater is collected in the wells and used to irrigate the farm lands. (3) Fallen leaves, rotting fruits and other organic wastes are composted. (4) VermiWorms are used for composting and the end-product, vermicast, is a nutrient-rich material that promotes plant growth.
• Traditional farmers think organic farming is more time-consuming with little yield. Thus, they opt for chemical fertilizers.
• We have a dwindling community of farmers with an average age of 50+.  With the next generations opting for "better" careers, the country will have no farmers to tend the fields in less than 10 years.
• Farmers do not earn much, losing out on the traders who have direct contact with customers and consumers.
• Farmers, generally, still employ traditional manual techniques.

The trip, for me, was both enlightening and troubling. 

• Farmers are a critical segment of our society.  Afterall, without them, we will go hungry. But we take them for granted; in some cases, even look down on them.
• The current trade structure or practices leave very little profit margin for farmers.  How is it that the ones who worked hardest, toiling the fields, benefit the least?
• There is great advancement in farming technology (techniques and equipment) that either have not reached our farmers or they can't afford. (Shout out to my nephew, Ernest Asence, who tirelessly travels the country to provide training to farming communities).
• Organic farming is healthier and environment-friendly.  How do we encourage farmers to invest and adopt these methodologies, while enabling a better profit margin for them?
• If our farmers stop producing, we will have to import food. While it might not necessarily be more expensive, it will definitely mean more carbon footprint.  

As we left the farm, I committed to more proactively and consciously support our farmers, not just in terms of fresh produce and meats/fish, but also in terms of local products that use local materials.  Supporting local products do not only help our economy but our environment as well.  Buy Local!  Buy Pinoy!  

Tour of Luzon: From Down South to Up North in 4 Days (Part 1 - Calaguas)

This, too, shall pass,
I say

As I crawl towards Feb's end

Into March's faint light

Saving each tiny breath

Mustering my remaining strength

Let this not be

The slow death of me.

I can't believe it's mid-March already ... and I'm alive!  I survived February, which, for its relative shortness, has been the longest, most jampacked month of my past 12 months.  In fact, it spilled over into March 6th, the eve of my (I must say) well-deserved personal holiday.  An hour before our scheduled departure, I just finished my last meeting, sent my son's grading sheet (a day late) and completed submission of my expense report receipts.  And did I say I wasn't packed yet?  Oh, and I was taking the first shift for the 8-hour drive to Calaguas, Camarines Norte in Bicol.  Needless to say, we left an hour or so late.

I was practically "dying" to go on my holiday.  And I reached Calaguas, just in the nick of time. (Saved by the beach!) Who wouldn't come alive at the sight of this?

Waling Waling EcoVillage
Photo by:  #Inadoodles

To say that the place was breathtaking is an understatement. I find both languages I grew up with - Filipino and English - wanting of an appropriate adjective to describe Calaguas.  I had never seen so many shades of blue, so bold and stark, in any sea/ocean I've traveled through or any sky I've ever been under. The beach was pristine and the vegetation, lush.  This must be one of the last bits of Paradise on earth. (And we had it ALL to ourselves!)  Then, I thought, this is what the next generations will miss out on if mankind continues abusing Earth at the pace of its unchecked greed. 

After gaping and gasping at the scenery, I did what anybody in this century would do ... I took a video and proceeded to upload.  But there was no signal --- unless you went up to the very top of the hill behind the resort.  But why would you do that, when you can swim in crystal clear water?  The plan was to rest once we reached the resort, but the beach beckoned and who are we not to heed? So, we frolicked in the water and lounged under a tree; taking pictures (that do not even come a fraction close to the real thing, so best to just drink it all in with your eyes) in between marveling at the sight. I felt the last pulls of the past months' (or year's) anxieties and stresses lose their grip and slip into the sea, where the waves carried them far away.  With a contented sigh, I thought, how wonderful it is to be off-the-grid!  

Time in the islands,

Like the peace of being underwater,

Makes everything move in slow motion;

Turns all noise into distant muffled sounds.

Photo by:  Ina Nolasco

We explored the shoreline and the rock formations near where we stayed.  I took one look at them and figured I could climb them.  So, I did.  I climbed (up and down) different rock formations, despite my sister's admonitions, but under the watchful gaze of our boatmen -- who, only once, told me not to proceed because it was dangerous ("Ma'am, danger diyan").  At every milestone "little summits", I raised both arms in victory and let out a triumphant "Woohoo!"  And, I thought, save from God, nobody knows my capabilities more than I do.  I should not let anyone's opinion deter me from moving forward to where I want to go or forging my own path or exploring the limits of what I can achieve.  

Photo by:  Ina Nolasco

The following day, our boatmen took us out for an island tour.  First stop was the sandbar.  We reached the place before the water fully receded, so our boatmen had to "feel" their way through the water.  After a few minutes of maneuvering the boat slowly, the oldest boatman exclaimed in surprise.  We hit sand.  I realized, the seas, like life, are ever-changing.  Thus, while there is wisdom in listening to the counsel of the old or those that have gone before me; I should also take the changes and present situation into consideration. Afterall, the circumstances of yesterday (or even a moment ago) are very different from the circumstances of now. 

Then, they took us to the snorkeling site.  It took awhile before we saw fish.  While they came in beautifully varied colors, what struck me most was what one of our boatmen said, "Patay na po yun ibang corals dito." (Some of the corals here have died).  I asked why and was about to probe more, when my sister emerged from her snorkeling wearing a disconcerted look, "Bleaching, Ate. I see coral bleaching".  I put on my gear and looked. There, just underneath me, an immaculately white coral stood out against a background of bleakly colored corals.  I didn't know exactly what I felt at that moment.  But, when we reached the coral-littered shore of our next stop, I knew I felt angry. As we stepped down from the boat, my cousin spoke everyone's thoughts, "This is a coral graveyard!" I thought, even here, where the community has been responsible stewards, there is no escaping the effects of Climate Change and Global Warming - phenomena some people claim are not real. 

Photo by: Ina Nolasco

Coral Graveyard

From far away it was
a shore of pristine white sand;
Up close it was
a shore of dead corals, piled 4 feet high;
A hauntingly beautiful coral graveyard
created by the waves;
In tribute to (or a cry of justice for?)
the silent (and ancient) martyrs
Of man's recklessness

Photo by: Ina Nolasco

and thoughtless folly.

Climate Change is not real, you say

And this heat is not Global Warming;

How many more must die

Before we claim responsibility and rectify?

When will we realize 

That Her death is our extinction? 

When we got back to the resort, there was enough time to swim and create sand art while we waited for the sunset.  And in those dusk moments, when I usually felt a certain melancholy, I felt peaceful.  I thought to myself, somewhere enfolded in these moments, is what life is meant to be.  I don't have it all thought out yet, but I am finally at the fringes of understanding. 

And Time said ...

There is no lack of Time
Only an abundance of moments
And I have made each one uniquely
There is not one the same as another
Each one meant to be experienced
Each moment meant to be lived fully.

On our final night, after dinner, I decided to have a proper look at the stars (which my sister brought to my attention on our first night, but was just too tired).  I know I've said the phrase too many times in this article, but ... I have never seen a sky so full of stars!  The entire horizon and the 180-degree dome of sky above me was riddled with stars.  (I now understood the reason why the resort was so sparsely lit). I went back to our cottage and pestered my son to join me.  I pointed at the few constellations I knew, while my son pointed at a few more (show off!).  My sister and cousin joined us and we all sat out in the beach, gaping at the stars.  Only after a few minutes did I realize, that the patch of sky I thought was filtered by a thin layer of cloud, was actually the Milky Way!  

It's funny how such a sight makes one feel profoundly small, giving way to some very profound thoughts.  I realized, that I have not fully understood the greatness of my God (for how can there not be?) --- nor my smallness (and I don't mean my height). I wondered how, in such a vast universe, can God find time to zoom in on me and care about my littlest most foolish thoughts and feelings?  Why would He? And then, I realized, I don't need to understand. I probably never will.  But it is enough that I know, at my very core, that He loves me.  It is a fundamental truth; although not fully explained by Science, it is fully supported by it.  Everything around me is a grand display of a God deeply in love with His creation. It is only right that we honor Him by loving this world He gave us and everything in it.

She said, "Have you looked up yet?"

I shook my head and then did.

There, above me,

as far as the eyes could see,

Stars as numerous as the sands on the beach.

And then ...

as plain as the brightest constellations,

The Milky Way

in all its quiet resplendent glory.

I felt infinitely small then

And my "wisdom", suddenly laughable.

Photo of the Calaguas sky by @iamfitzcardenas on instagram discovered via PhiliHappy

The following day we started out for mainland at 9 am, just as the waves started welling up. When we reached the port, it started raining.  I chuckled at how the weather sympathized with our reluctance to leave the island; and thought it ironic how time seemed to slow down yet still felt as though it ended too soon. Anyway, I thought, it's time to head back to reality, hopefully, revived, recharged and with renewed purpose.

Water and Time

All around me

Rushing

But Calming

Endless

Yet running out.