On Conversations with a Higher Power

Hello.

I haven’t really talked to You for the longest time. I guess lately I just have trouble believing… not in You of course, but in the plans that You have for me. Most times I just find it crazy how things turn out. Usually You’ll lift me up to cloud nine, then let me free fall back down, without warning and with nothing to break my fall.

You have made me resilient. Countless times I stand once more, stronger after each descent.  Yet the routine plays like an old broken record singing the same requiem. It is getting tiring.

I’m sure that cross was a tiresome burden too. I’m positive my load is not as heavy as the world on Your shoulders, yet like You, sometimes I would think it would be much better if this wasn’t the life I ought to live, my cross to bear. I guess You can understand me on that.

Before, I always prayed for things to turn out better. I would wake up, hoping that it would be the day when I can really really smile. You see, my happiness has always been spiked with sadness. It is like a dangerous cocktail - a momentary bliss followed by a drunken stupor and a serious hangover. Now, I just pray to survive all the cocktails life has to serve me.

I’d be lying though if I said there was not a faint little part of me still hoping for the better. I’d be lying if I told myself it makes sense to believe in You but not trust in what is in store for me. So I guess I am talking to You right now to let You know that I still believe in You… that the only reason why I get up after each fall is because no matter how I have already blinded myself to the idea of a happy ending, it is faith in You that makes me see the light… and though endings don’t always turn out the way we want them to be, what matters is that I guess I try to be who You want me to be… and even in the times that I fail to be that person… You still love me… and in the end, maybe, that is what matters after all.

On a New Day

Set yourself free

...from the chains of sadness

...from the shadows of regret

There will be a time when you feel you can just soar, and live, and love, and embrace this wonderful life.

It may not be perfect.. but it is yours.

It is special.

It starts Today.

On People

I found the first poem I wrote way back in the sixth grade while organizing my computer files today. I remember Ms. Dela Cruz, an English teacher, who constantly shared this to her classes as an example for poetry projects. She urged me to continue writing. Thank you Ms. Dela Cruz. This poem will always be that spark that ignited my desire to write. 

People

A poet sees not with his eyes

But sees as he imagines

A musician hears not with his ears

But hears the music in his heart

A teacher teaches with his knowledge

But his knowledge lives with spirit

A dreamer dreams through his mind

But he strives for this dream to come true

A fighter fights with all his might

But to win he must be true and right

A singer sings with her voice

But her voice comes from her soul

People are people, individually different

But each has spirit, heart and soul

which makes each one truly special

On Hard Work

I have been raised under the "hard work pays off" school of thought. Back when I was young, there were no Batman toys without good marks at school. It was also important to realize that Batman toys were just the tip of the iceberg. Consistently doing good meant entering a good university, which meant a good job, that translates to $$$. 

Work hard and thou shall be rewarded. I think this is the dogma most Asian kids are raised believing in. As long as you persevere and you put your mind to it, there is nothing under the sun that you cannot achieve.

Yes, hard work pays off - mugging for school, tons of practice in sports or your musical instrument, for your SATs, and your job. I've been used to hard work equals rewards. I have lived it well.

There are somethings though that parents tend to leave out.  There is a fine print to this rule, it does have exceptions - that sometimes hard work does not always mean reap what you sow.  

I remember the day in college where I chose to shift out of the Management Honors course. I knew myself. I knew that no matter the hours spent practicing on Accounting problems, I will never be able to live up to a standard that was expected. I simply was not made for this. It was not who I am. I was better off spending my efforts on the regular course, and do well in that. I did. In shifting out, my hard work matched what was demanded, what I realistically could deliver. Recognizing my own capabilities allowed to make most of my efforts.

I remember my first heartbreak, also the first time that I understood what love really is. Time, material things, and even an entire change of self - I gave everything I could. It was not easy. It demanded for me to be patient. All those was for naught. Hard work can only go so much when it comes to matters of the heart. Even hard work cannot change a love unrequited. Then again, it also entails hard work to pick up the pieces and start anew for a future someone who deserves the love one can give. Even in loss, there is work to be done, even if the only reward is to keep yourself whole again.

There are some things that cannot be changed or influenced by pure diligence, some things that require capability. There are things that are out of our hands. There are times when we are dealt with curve balls, surprises or hiccups. In these occasions, we shouldn't blame ourselves. We shouldn't diminish the value of hard work because of failure. It is failure, loss, lack, that fuels hard work so that we can push boundaries. It is these that teach us where to direct our energy. It is these harsh truths that open our eyes to what we can and cannot do, what we can or cannot change.

In growing up, I learned that hard work is important not because it leads you to that pot of gold. I learned that hard work in itself is the prize. It defines who we are. It makes us so much more than who we are yesterday. It takes us to roads that pave the path for a better tomorrow.

On Random Down Days

There are days when sadness is a thief, catching you off guard. It's that peculiar day, which is no different from other days, save that you tend to see things in a shade of grey. There's no victory deciphering this sphinx's riddle. You wake up feeling a bit spent, a bit blank, a bit not-so-looking-forward to the passing hours.

Sometimes I think on these instances, we become truly aware of the human condition. We are finite. We are alone. Therefore, we strive to be infinite by splashing colors to the world, and we move to be part of it by sharing our presence. These instances serve as a reminder, a pit-stop, a reflection - to not despair but to be grateful of our capacity to rise above our finitude through love, through life.

Those days of sadness mean there must be blank spaces still to fill. You may not know how as of yet. The important thing is you know you can.

"I dream of painting and then I paint my dream." 

- Vincent Van Gogh 

On Singapore

Originally entitled as A Question of Home, I wrote this when I had the choice to go back to Manila at the end of my expatriation. I have decided to stay in Singapore and it has been three years now living in this amazing city. Thank you Singapore. You and your people have been wonderful.

A Question of Home

On those pockets of time in my everydays, where silence and self-thought are most coherent, I dabble on the to-be that would be decided today… or soon at the very least. As my good friend Sandy summed up, it is these pivotal points that determine one’s tomorrow - that single choice that would spell out the next years of my life.

It has been a year since I have resided in Singapore, and in that span of time, this city has turned from a career-oriented move to something more personal. From a definite two year timeline, the prospect of staying here is now open for discussion. The once unentertained idea has now become a looming question overhead.

Is it how my tummy savors for ji fan and chili crab? Is it how my tongue can now enunciate the “lahs” and the “mehs”? Do I delight in the ease of the MRT or secretly smile at the hole in my wallet caused by the unending shopping at Orchard? Or being practical, is it simply that the Singapore Dollar trumps the Philippine Peso?

And to those questions I say, the answer is a yes… and yet it would still be a broken yes. Manila packs a punching reminder everytime I take a trip back. There’s always a tug in my heart when I spend time with family and friends I have known since forever. And though Manila may not be as perfect as Singapore, the familiarity of things and the sense of belonging brings about a comfort one cannot find anywhere else. Manila will always be my home. It is that undeniable fact that makes agreement to the prior arguments empty. Staying in Singapore must mean more to me that just those reasons.

And on those pockets of time in my everyday, where silence and self-thought are most coherent, I dabble on the to-be that would be decided today… and I think about

• How fulfilling I find stressing over twenty thousand metric tons of overflowing cargo, battling port strikes and vessel breakdowns, and improving my services could be
• How I have found that sense of peace in me, which I have not had previously
• How proud I am making my parents with me securing my and our future
• Sandy, Eugene, Stephy, Earnest, WB, JJ, Miling just to name a few…  
• My happiness 

To me these are the weighty reasons… these are the bricks upon where I would lay the foundation of my tomorrow should I stay in Singapore.

The choice is tough… but I guess it is comforting that no matter what path I choose, I am grateful to have two places to call my own - one a home, and another a home I can build.

On the Final Lap

Lungs bursting. Muscles burning. Heart screaming. It's that final lap of my run. The body begs for me to pull the stop switch. Respite looms like a sultry temptress offering shelter for my battered being.

When the flesh comes close to faltering, I think of you.

In my mind I play this scenario. Your life hangs on the balance, your fate entwined in my grueling marathon. I must finish lest I lose you. I close my eyes. You smile at me. There is nothing I know now but to race to my destination - You.

Run completed.

You keep me going.

On a Solitary Song

I walk down life’s road all alone
No one is there; I’m on my own
Through the worst, alone I stand  
Not a one, reaching out his hand
Tears fall, I cry alone
No one hears me sob and moan
All I feel is loneliness and fear
An endless silence, I disappear

I lie cold in winter’s snow

My heart hardens; blood stops it flow

No shine beyond darkness’ night
My hope dims, I have lost sight

I pave the way without a guide

Not a one by my side

In this life I walk alone

With no one, I’m on my own

- poetry for the gloomy rainy weather

On Why I Support Reproductive Health

I am Filipino and I belong to the 81% of those who are Catholic. Living in Manila for twenty-four years., I grew up witnessing how my parents work themselves to the bone, sometimes even go in debt, just so that me and my siblings could go to a reputable school and provide for the family's needs. My education, brought about by the sacrifice by my parents, would always be a constant reminder of their love.

In these seventeen years of schooling, I have been molded by Jesuit mottoes of Luceat Lux (Let Your Light Shine) , Lux in Domino (Light in the Lord), and Magis (to be and do more). Apart from a good foundation in your usual Maths, Sciences, Business and Marketing, it is these teachings that I took pride of. It gave purpose to the practical knowledge I gained. Borne out of the love of my parents, the fruits of my education sought for me to be a source of love to those around. It is with this love and concern to my fellow Filipinos that makes me support the Reproductive Health Bill of the Philippines.

The Reproductive Rights is defined by Senate Bill 2378 as follows:

the rights of individuals and couples, to decide freely and responsibly whether or not to have children; the number, spacing and timing of their children; to make other decisions concerning reproduction free of discrimination, coercion and violence; to have the information and means to do so; and to attain the highest standard of sexual and reproductive health.

Support of this bill does not make me less Catholic, rather it makes me more human. It means that though I respect the teachings of my religion, I choose not to be blind to the current plight of poverty plaguing 26.5% of the Filipino people. It means that as a son, I would never want to witness any parent work until it compromises their health, live that every second of the day is spent thinking how to put food on the table, hurt knowing they cannot provide their child with the best education, clothing, shelter... sometimes not even the best but even the most basic of needs. It means that I acknowledge that family planning is a reflection of a parent's concern because it means they are aware that bringing a life into the world is a big responsibility. 

I believe that support of this bill is a choice of love, as a child and as a future parent. It is not renouncing my faith, but an appreciation and a fulfillment of it.  I am still Catholic. I am a Filipino.  But first and foremost, I am human.

On the Tin Woodsman's Love

Wizard of Oz: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.

Tin Woodsman: But I still want one.

- The Wizard of OZ, 1939 

Is there such a thing as an unbreakable heart? Then it would be a heart no longer in its entirety - for a heart breaks, just as it mends itself whole again. But why go through this pain - a wound which will never pale in comparison to any physical injury? Why?

Love, and nothing more, of which nothing greater can be thought. Love because you love, which endures even the breaking of one's heart. Love because it is ecstasy, that no money can buy, no drug can replicate, no thing can replace. Love because you have found yourself in another, not losing oneself, but building something new. Love because it makes vast distances small when you hold someone in your being. Love because it makes nearness into oneness. Love because it is life's main ingredient, not an add-on or flavoring or seasoning. Love because it allows you to see not simply beyond someone's faults, but because it allows you to find joy even in those shortcomings. Love because you hate loving, even when it hurts, even if it has been shattered a dozen times before and even if you shatter it a thousand times still... Love.

Love. Because even if I may never receive your love, I have been made happy with simply loving you.

On Summer Camp Syndrome

Kristl: You know the Summer Camp Syndrome?

Ian: Hmm... haven't heard of it.

Ian: What is it?

Kristl: No, I just noticed it. It's like when you're in summer camp you feel like you'll be super closewith your friends forever.

Ian: But when its done...

Kristl: Then afterwards, you realize that you don't have much in common anymoreand you're not so good friends and you drift.

Ian: Yeah, I get what you mean.

Looking back, we all could probably name one summer-camp-syndrome-friend. Mine would be a friend from high school. He introduced me to Tolkien and Gaiman, to Jose Cuervo and Smirnoff, to Cathy and Marga. We advocated sharing is caring. In English class, we took turns for book quizzes. I'd read A Separate Peace, while he took care of Macbeth. I was the good student while he was the life of the party. 

We drifted after going to different universities for college. It's been nine years since we really talked. Still, I regard him as a good friend. The "summer camp" experience is still fondly remembered today. Those four years of high school was a blast. He has always been a big part of those memories

I'm taking a trip back to Manila in a few months. I think I'll call him out for drinks (though probably not tequila shots like before). Maybe it will be like old times. Maybe it will be something different. I'm pretty sure it will be awesome just the same.

Think of one summer-camp-syndrome friend. Grab your mobile. Drop a line. Catch up. Relive the glory days.

On Endings and Beginnings

It’s an odd feeling knowing that your days are marked. Is this how an inmate feels before he walks the green mile to meet his fate? It’s a calm surrender to the eventual end. There aren't a lot of questions, which is surprising. Simply put, there is a motion that drives you forward. It is a motion that reminisces all things past to prepare you for what is to become. It is a movement that does not trap you to history, but gives value to things that have molded the present. In the preparation to start anew, one cannot entirely scrap the markings of old. Like a roll of film, what has been captured plays one last time as the process of deletion occurs. The film shall always be the film, and what has been imprinted, though gone, has always been a part of it.

In many ways life is like this. We do not always want to go forward and yet, circumstances at times give us that extra push. When life presents us with a new beginning, we come across this process of being in-between the shift from what-is-then and what-is-to-be. Each steps bids us to face the reality of things with more confidence and certainty. Like the inmate who strides towards his fate, every passing moment is both a surrender and an embrace to new possibilities of what lies beyond the now. 

These continuous endings and beginnings is our life. We march on without fear, without regrets, but with hope for better tomorrows.