I was fortunate to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend, and though I failed to book tickets in advance, I was in luck. I found transportation that would bring me to as far as Batad.
For details about this trip, click here.
Baguio- Sagada- Banaue- Batad
For the second time, I visited the cold Benguet and Ifugao regions.
I was fortunate to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend, and though I failed to book tickets in advance, I was in luck. I found transportation that would bring me to as far as Batad.
For details about this trip, click here.
I was fortunate to be able to enjoy a four-day weekend, and though I failed to book tickets in advance, I was in luck. I found transportation that would bring me to as far as Batad.
For details about this trip, click here.
Untitled
"I'm leaving."
I pause the movie I am watching and look at him,
standing by the door, holding the handles of his big, red bag.
Why only now after eight long years?
He looks down, lifts the bag, and turns.
Before he closes the door, he says,
"I can't fix the shower knob for you anymore."
I pause the movie I am watching and look at him,
standing by the door, holding the handles of his big, red bag.
Why only now after eight long years?
He looks down, lifts the bag, and turns.
Before he closes the door, he says,
"I can't fix the shower knob for you anymore."
A Resolution
For who could stop farewells
One can only let out a smile
pretending to remember the infinite succession
of years
of days
hours, minutes
that had passed before that smile- a child of nostalgia
or a product of one's acceptance
that farewell is the easier way to go
about forgetting.
You marvel at an old friend's recollection
Both of you were trying the bike for the first time
He wanted to go home after the fall
You thought the scratches were painful
But you would never let go
of making it around that waterless fountain.
Now, you only remember the fear of falling.
You are not even sure you can still ride a bike.
Some afternoons, when everything seems busy
the clanging of metals from a house being built
the soft hum of the fan from your living room
some distant shouts of children playing ball, perhaps
You close your eyes for an instant
sip some cheap instant coffee
As you try to notice how it goes down your throat,
your eyes toward where the light of the setting sun
makes the greens of a tree brighter
You remember, you woke up late again.
But even that habitual self-reproach will fade
Like how a friend reminded you
of how you wanted to teach.
I have some years ahead of me.
I will welcome them like a sunny day after weeks of rain
It may be fleeting
before they become fragments
of stories my friends will remind me of
But I will see them pass by
as a child sees
a beautiful, colorful marching band
whose music can be heard even from later years
One can only let out a smile
pretending to remember the infinite succession
of years
of days
hours, minutes
that had passed before that smile- a child of nostalgia
or a product of one's acceptance
that farewell is the easier way to go
about forgetting.
You marvel at an old friend's recollection
Both of you were trying the bike for the first time
He wanted to go home after the fall
You thought the scratches were painful
But you would never let go
of making it around that waterless fountain.
Now, you only remember the fear of falling.
You are not even sure you can still ride a bike.
Some afternoons, when everything seems busy
the clanging of metals from a house being built
the soft hum of the fan from your living room
some distant shouts of children playing ball, perhaps
You close your eyes for an instant
sip some cheap instant coffee
As you try to notice how it goes down your throat,
your eyes toward where the light of the setting sun
makes the greens of a tree brighter
You remember, you woke up late again.
But even that habitual self-reproach will fade
Like how a friend reminded you
of how you wanted to teach.
I have some years ahead of me.
I will welcome them like a sunny day after weeks of rain
It may be fleeting
before they become fragments
of stories my friends will remind me of
But I will see them pass by
as a child sees
a beautiful, colorful marching band
whose music can be heard even from later years
They are possibly not happy
I read the news today, and my attention was drawn to how the CBCP (Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines) is planning on "luring back prodigal children".
It wrote how Cebu Archbishop Jose Palma said that it’s possible that we failed somewhere in the sense that people are transferring to another sector because they are not happy.
The first thing that came to mind is, "WTF!"
So, they merely consider this a possibility? Don't these pious ones really know why many have defected or simply stopped going to church on Sundays? Are they lacking up in there or just playing deaf and blind?
At least, though, they finally got it right. The people are not happy. Not because they don't have God in their lives but because they have leaders that seem to act as if they may not be able to spell the word L-E-A-D.
For almost 500 years now, the Filipino people have grown tired of their arrogance in asserting that only they know the truth and no one else. History has slapped them many times over with embarrassing moments of how many of their beliefs had been wrong all along. The people have been very understanding. I have been very understanding, knowing that they are also just human beings who are not exempt from making mistakes every now and then. However, there is a limit to that, especially, when they deign to care very little about history repeating itself. There they are, still, at the helm of every idiotic movement, imposing on people, and proselytizing them for a cause that is as clear as morning to somebody who has just gotten up with a hangover. It is tiring, indeed, to hear another priest's sermon on how this and that bill should be opposed or how this and that should not be allowed because the Bible literally says so. Sometimes, I wonder, do they think that God created his image without brains to think with?
Yes, they can guide people to be in the right. They can show the way, but should they have to push people to whatever way they think is the right path?
They are right, I am not happy. I am not happy because they are not letting me to be. To me, they are no different from a nagging wife who does nothing each day but point out all the wrongs by virtue of how she believes them to be wrong.
To CBCP, the people have not lost faith. I have not lost faith. I still believe in God. I still believe that everything has a beginning, a purpose and an end. Sadly, though, I have lost faith in your ability to lead my spirituality. You just plainly do not cut it anymore. I believe 500 years is such a long time for you to prove you're worthy to be the Catholics' leaders in this country.
It wrote how Cebu Archbishop Jose Palma said that it’s possible that we failed somewhere in the sense that people are transferring to another sector because they are not happy.
The first thing that came to mind is, "WTF!"
So, they merely consider this a possibility? Don't these pious ones really know why many have defected or simply stopped going to church on Sundays? Are they lacking up in there or just playing deaf and blind?
At least, though, they finally got it right. The people are not happy. Not because they don't have God in their lives but because they have leaders that seem to act as if they may not be able to spell the word L-E-A-D.
For almost 500 years now, the Filipino people have grown tired of their arrogance in asserting that only they know the truth and no one else. History has slapped them many times over with embarrassing moments of how many of their beliefs had been wrong all along. The people have been very understanding. I have been very understanding, knowing that they are also just human beings who are not exempt from making mistakes every now and then. However, there is a limit to that, especially, when they deign to care very little about history repeating itself. There they are, still, at the helm of every idiotic movement, imposing on people, and proselytizing them for a cause that is as clear as morning to somebody who has just gotten up with a hangover. It is tiring, indeed, to hear another priest's sermon on how this and that bill should be opposed or how this and that should not be allowed because the Bible literally says so. Sometimes, I wonder, do they think that God created his image without brains to think with?
Yes, they can guide people to be in the right. They can show the way, but should they have to push people to whatever way they think is the right path?
They are right, I am not happy. I am not happy because they are not letting me to be. To me, they are no different from a nagging wife who does nothing each day but point out all the wrongs by virtue of how she believes them to be wrong.
To CBCP, the people have not lost faith. I have not lost faith. I still believe in God. I still believe that everything has a beginning, a purpose and an end. Sadly, though, I have lost faith in your ability to lead my spirituality. You just plainly do not cut it anymore. I believe 500 years is such a long time for you to prove you're worthy to be the Catholics' leaders in this country.
Collateral
I had just gotten out of bed when I received a message from my parents asking me to call them when I get the chance.
Knowing their previous record of sending messages only when there is a problem or when they need money for my sisters' school, I thought I would be some grand poorer before the week ends.
"Do you still smoke?", my father's voice on the phone sounded hesitant. I said, yes, a couple of sticks a day, 8 sticks max.
I felt a little strange with the question, especially, since this was the first time we ever talked about my taking to smoking. They never said anything about the first time I went home from university with a pack of cigarettes. They even bought me an ash tray.
Stammering and sounding worried, my father continued, "Well, your mother and I, we...we just thought that maybe, you should start thinking about quitting". I was shocked, but found myself saying, "I am trying. That is why I go running every now and then to naturally expel the habit. I know it is really bad for my health, so I want to quit as soon as possible".
It has been 11 years and 2 months since the first time I started inhaling nicotine down my lungs. Previous to that, I had always thought that smokers did not have half the brain most people do. It's a no-brainer how smoking kills, and yet, they never seem to care or understand. This was one of the things I thought a normal, good person would actually avoid. Ironically, it was the same belief that led me to start it. With the decision to force myself into a nasty habit, I would be redefining myself. I would be breaking free from a self-concept that was too safe, too ordinary.
Now, this juvenile attempt at being unique has taken its toll. I am stuck, and every time I think of quitting, it only makes me smoke more. I asked a friend who managed to forget about nicotine after more than 10 years of puffing at least 1 pack (20 sticks) a day. To her, it was not really a decision to quit. It was more of a consequence of her decision for a better, healthier lifestyle. It was a holistic change that made quitting cigarettes a mere collateral change. And because it was not really an object of which she had to spend a lot of energy mustering her will against, it was relatively easy. Like her, I also believe that if I focus so much on the negative, meaning by going with the personal campaign: I will not smoke again, I would still have the action smoking for this to come true. I would have nothing to negate if it did not exist. So, I thought, like my friend, I will decide something positive: I will live a healthier, happier and more exciting lifestyle. I know that when I embrace that, smoking would become passe.
"Ok. We were just concerned, with all the news, TV ads, and your sister telling us about the statistics...", my father trailed off. "Yes. I understand. I am slowly getting rid of it", I said. I realized, I was so entranced by the conversation that I only puffed twice before the cigarette I was holding burned out. I was so close to telling myself that should be the last, but I snapped out of it. I know that if I said that, I would be running counter to what I believe. It's not smoking I want to stop, it's a better life (whose explications I am attributing to what I know as the highest ideal there is about life) that I would like to start. If I am still the one who shuns contradiction, then I know that smoking does not fit in. Naturally.
Simple Thing
Keanne could not have sung it better.
I celebrated my 31st birthday last month, and I thought it was going to be another uneventful one. As much as I tried (I don't normally make a big deal of it), it wasn't. I got a surprise bash from fellow managers, and my team gave another surprise blow out the next day. I also got interesting wishes in a jar.
Yes, I tried not to mind it so much, getting another year older. For me, it is just another day, an inevitability. Yet, I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of ignoring it for two reasons. One, it is a day to be thankful for. Two, it is time to reflect.
***
I am still awed at how there are people who think of this day important because it is my birthday. My family, for example, I know how excited they get when the day approaches. In fact, one of my sisters came to my place and brought a gift and some food. The rest (who live far away), they called to greet me. My friends, too. Many sent text messages, and many more posted their wishes on my website. I could never be more thankful.
But this day is also for me to pause. At least once, in a year, I can think about what I have done, where I am headed, and about my own evaluation of life, if it has changed.
Often, I find myself getting anxious about letting days go by, as if cars fleeting by on a highway. I don't remember any of them. They all happen in the most ordinary way they could. They all lack substance. So, to make up, I would arrange trips that I could mark in my diary, that I could write about. For a time, they fill me, but it does not last. Several months later, the trip transforms into nothing but images and words that I post online.
I remember how I used to convince myself with the belief that life is the one adventure I am looking for. I told myself how I needed not plan on going anywhere to be challenged, to be inspired. I only need to notice things more. It's a shame that I still cannot remember the color of the flowers my neighbor has planted in his small garden by his front gate, which I pass by every day.
On my way to work, I only notice the smog and fail to really see the buildings and the two bridges that I pass by. In the office, where I spend most of my time, I miss a lot of things. I only think of stress when I need to solve a work problem or when I need to come up with a good proposal. I do not notice the miracles that take place.
When I read the messages (written in rolled, small pieces of paper) in the jar that my team gave me for my birthday, I saw a couple of times, how he/she looks up to me, how I am his/her role model. I was stunned. I never thought of myself as that. I never looked up to myself because I thought I was really just doing what I needed to do. Yes, I do things with passion and excellence, but it did not occur to me that I was touching lives, inspiring people.
***
Today, I had been restless since I got up. I did not want the weekend to start without a clear picture of what I should be doing, and that it should be something that matters. I searched the web, played some music, and imagined myself as sombody else. And just like that, it is now only an hour before the sun sets, and all I have done is validate the inevitability of time and the futility of a grand adventure other than each day.
I may still be looking for that simple thing or that I am probably getting old without anything to rely on. Be that as it may, I am very thankful for this never-ending adventure.
"Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."
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| A jar of birthday wishes |
Yes, I tried not to mind it so much, getting another year older. For me, it is just another day, an inevitability. Yet, I have been feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of ignoring it for two reasons. One, it is a day to be thankful for. Two, it is time to reflect.
***
I am still awed at how there are people who think of this day important because it is my birthday. My family, for example, I know how excited they get when the day approaches. In fact, one of my sisters came to my place and brought a gift and some food. The rest (who live far away), they called to greet me. My friends, too. Many sent text messages, and many more posted their wishes on my website. I could never be more thankful.
But this day is also for me to pause. At least once, in a year, I can think about what I have done, where I am headed, and about my own evaluation of life, if it has changed.
Often, I find myself getting anxious about letting days go by, as if cars fleeting by on a highway. I don't remember any of them. They all happen in the most ordinary way they could. They all lack substance. So, to make up, I would arrange trips that I could mark in my diary, that I could write about. For a time, they fill me, but it does not last. Several months later, the trip transforms into nothing but images and words that I post online.
I remember how I used to convince myself with the belief that life is the one adventure I am looking for. I told myself how I needed not plan on going anywhere to be challenged, to be inspired. I only need to notice things more. It's a shame that I still cannot remember the color of the flowers my neighbor has planted in his small garden by his front gate, which I pass by every day.
On my way to work, I only notice the smog and fail to really see the buildings and the two bridges that I pass by. In the office, where I spend most of my time, I miss a lot of things. I only think of stress when I need to solve a work problem or when I need to come up with a good proposal. I do not notice the miracles that take place.
When I read the messages (written in rolled, small pieces of paper) in the jar that my team gave me for my birthday, I saw a couple of times, how he/she looks up to me, how I am his/her role model. I was stunned. I never thought of myself as that. I never looked up to myself because I thought I was really just doing what I needed to do. Yes, I do things with passion and excellence, but it did not occur to me that I was touching lives, inspiring people.
***
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| My team's birthday cake for me |
Today, I had been restless since I got up. I did not want the weekend to start without a clear picture of what I should be doing, and that it should be something that matters. I searched the web, played some music, and imagined myself as sombody else. And just like that, it is now only an hour before the sun sets, and all I have done is validate the inevitability of time and the futility of a grand adventure other than each day.
I may still be looking for that simple thing or that I am probably getting old without anything to rely on. Be that as it may, I am very thankful for this never-ending adventure.
Calaguas to Mayon
Check out my latest travel blog on Calaguas here.
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Top: Mahabang Buhangin, Calaguas Group of Islands |
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| Top: View of Mt. Mayon from Legaspi's ship port |
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