Climbing the Winding Staircase

Quick Response

2011-07-29T08:52:00.001-07:00

God works really fast. Or at least, I'm seeing this as His response. If it isn't - it doesn't matter - I'm still happy that He sent these good vibes my way.

Today was a beautiful day. Everyday is - but today especially. I started it off early. By 6am was off the church with Mama, Lola Riting and Auntie Melit. The mass was in Bicol, but I got the gospel and the homily. And it hit home. In a good way. Spending time with the Blessed Sacrament was amazing too. It's been a while. Much to pray for. Much to discern. I could have spent the whole day there really. But that would have been escaping.

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Everybody in the work knows that it is anything but easy. Anything that deals with people is hard. Everything that deals with change is difficult. But sometimes there are moments when it becomes so difficult that whatever pains you feel, makes you forget why you're doing it in the first place. Buti nalang these are just moments. Short-lived. But they come back. And you just have to fight them. And pray they go away.

The afternoon brought me back to reality quite quick. It made me remember - and not just remembering based on distant memories - but remembering because of fresh stories, because of new faces all experiencing the classic tale of love.

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Karl sent 12 French interns our way about two weeks ago. They are 20-21 years old, all highly intellectual, passionate and determined to make a difference in the communities that they will make their home. They were divided into teams - 4 interns in 3 different sites: Bibirao, Libmanan and Balatas. They were assigned to get to know the communities, the families, the people in their neighborhood. They were told to seek the opportunities present in their home villages. And propose a social enterprise that can make the community sustainable. They were to spent two weeks at the village, then spend another week enjoying the other sites, sharing their different experiences and just relaxing.

Relax was not part of their vocabulary. They wanted to work. They wanted to be useful. They wanted to help.

Mama and I were on our way home from GK Ocampo when we received a call from Angel. The four kids were there at the GK office. They wanted to talk to someone. They had some concerns. My Gad. I was thinking of only the worst things.

Their concern was their stay was too short. They wanted to extend their trip. They wanted to spend more time with their families, with their friends. They wanted to be able to work on their Pili Candy business, their English lessons with the community and motivate them to clean their village more. No CWC please, no shopping, no resting. There is work to be done, they say.

They stay at a village that has never had foreign guests. They stay at a village that has problem upon problem. They stay at a site that is not as beautiful as Libmanan, nor as strong as Taguig. They stay at an ordinary village - and they've fallen in love.

It is such strong affirmation that the work truly is so good. That our ordinary is really extra-ordinary. And so many people see it.

The rain was strong and the clouds dense. I asked God for a peek - that I may see it again too. I got a panoramic view.

Ragiwdiw, Jobos and Lots of Patience

2011-07-28T04:48:00.000-07:00

Today was to dye for.

Tom and I spent the afternoon going around Naga's Public Market. Looking for different colors of dye. Thanks to Tita Vivian - the friendly stall owner of an unnamed square-meter of a space - we got ourselves a few dozen sachets.

Yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Red and Black. A couple of each at Php3 a pack. A good peso less than what the other stalls were offering.

Thanks to the ehow website, we got ourselves a basic dye recipe for seagrass. We have grown to believe that ragiwdiw is seagrass, but the different stalls at the market beg to differ. Some say it is just the same as water hyacinth - I think that's a totally different plant. More research to do, I guess.

We boiled our dye and popped in our grass, but to no avail. The jobos did not stick. We'll try again tomorrow - with more dye.

Today we spent: Php183

Php16 - tricycle ride to the Public Market for two

Php51 - for our different colors of dye

Php50 - for Ragiwdiw slippers

Php16 - for tricycle ride back to Bubble Town

Php50 - for oatmeal cookies

Third Printing

2011-05-17T22:18:00.001-07:00

The excitement and novelty of seeing your work printed never fades. For the third time, The Philippine Daily Inquirer printed a piece of my written work. It's my first piece with my married name. :) I wish they had kept the name I submitted though - Tamara Tan Azana - so that people still know that it's me.

I pray for - humility.

--

Youngblood
Home is where grass is greener
By Tamara T. Azaña
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 03:54:00 05/14/2011

Filed Under: Migration, Employment, Family
IT SEEMS as if everyone just wants to leave. People are leaving the provinces for Manila or Manila for elsewhere in the world (even if it means going to the very rural communities of another country). The grass is greener over there (or so we’ve been told), the streets are paved with gold, and there is more of whatever it is we seek.

Moving makes sense if what we seek is opportunity, if there are more jobs, better jobs and a better quality of life waiting for us on the other side, if there are better benefits, better public transportation and better choices for us there, if there are better chances for our children out there. These are all valid reasons to move to a place far from home.

Moving has always been part of human history. People move all the time—and people ought to move, ought to grow and ought to learn.

We Filipinos are no first-timers when it comes to moving. Filipinos left for Hawaii in the 1920s, and from there, to California and the rest of the world. Up until now, Filipino doctors, nurses, nannies, construction workers, caregivers, teachers and technicians are scattered across the globe.

Having so many Filipinos around the world has its pros and cons. The remittances of our workers keep the economy afloat, and yet, you have different organizations and the academe scrambling to correct what seems to be a social mistake with repercussions on the family as well as the brain drain and human rights violations. Migration has had some mixed results, but still millions long for the golden ticket to leave.

There is a difference between leaving because one wants to explore and grow and leaving because there is nothing at home that allows you to provide for yourself and the people you love. It is heart-wrenching to see families separated because there are “better opportunities” abroad. It makes one wonder if there really is no chance for those who remain at home.

It makes you wonder even more when you have already made it abroad and then you are thinking of moving back. If moving is normal and there are millions of Filipinos leaving because there is seemingly no green grass left in the country, why would anyone want to go back?

Not much is said about balikbayans who come home permanently but I believe there have been waves of them because my family was caught in one in the 1990s. After 15 years in the United States, my parents decided that they had their fill of the American dream and took us all home. After college we could choose whether to stay or go. I shuttled between the United States and Manila and eventually chose Manila as my home. But as fate would have it, I got married last year and moved to Vancouver where my husband works. I was no stranger to migration.

We knew we were going to move back home eventually (everyone who leaves says something like that; they just can’t say when). But a few months into our marriage, my husband decided it was time to regain his Filipino citizenship and come home for good.

Friends and family are shocked to learn that we are going back to the Philippines. It makes no sense to many of them. Moving from Canada to the Philippines. Moving from Vancouver to Manila and then to Naga. It is some sort of reverse migration. While everyone else seems to be scrambling to get out, there are a few crazy ones who are going back. But we aren’t alone in making that choice. My parents did it 20 years ago.

Going home makes sense to me. There is so much potential in our country. The opportunities are there for those who are willing to take the risk. The “better life” is not as obvious back home simply because you have to put more effort to achieve it. One needs to work harder and invest more in making home worth staying in.

The country won’t become a “better place” without people making it what it should be. There won’t be better jobs if people don’t create better jobs. The Filipino won’t be better educated if there are no more good teachers. There won’t be a better anything if people don’t start to believe they can make it better. With balikbayans trickling in, and with the focus of other friends on the provinces, I see much hope in this new kind of migration There is a new movement going on—one that is no longer driven by desperation, but by a new sense of adventure and optimism.

We see opportunity in the idle land of the countryside. Opportunities exist in the men and women actively trying to be productive. There is opportunity in everything, even in what we think as the most negative aspect of what we have as a people. We have raw materials and raw talent, giving us a million and one opportunities to process and produce whatever it is we want. There is opportunity if we are willing to define it ourselves, risk it and make it something fruitful. There is opportunity because we see the beauty of what we have and hope that there can be something even more beautiful.

Funny how a Philippine-born Canadian citizen, who has spent more than half his life in Vancouver, found his match in an American-born Filipina from Manila in San Jose, a sleepy little coastal town in Camarines Sur. In our young lives, we have had the chance to cross oceans, travel the world, work in the West, and yet met our destiny where we least expected it: at home. Our first meeting in itself told us of the opportunities that can really be anywhere.

People move all over the world in search of many things. They leave the country to find themselves or make something of their lives. And it’s great if they succeed. But we believe it is also okay to go back to one’s country, because in going back to your roots, you may find yourself as well. And you may find success, or in our case, your life partner.

We know we can find more back home, so we are packing our balikbayan boxes for the last time. It wasn’t the easiest decision to make. We could have waited another thirty-something years, growing our pension and retiring comfortably back home. But our youthful idealism started to see something practical and profitable as well. Investing our time and the little that we have now may grow into something not just for us to enjoy, but something the community can share as well. So we are leaving Canada and moving back home to the Philippines. We are going to live in Camarines Sur because we know we can make the grass greener over there.

Tamara T. Azaña, 28, has an AB Social Sciences degree from the Ateneo de Manila University. She hopes to be a social entrepreneur at the Center for Social Innovation.

Facebook Life

2011-03-15T13:17:00.000-07:00

Loleng is absolutely right. Facebook is my lifeline. Ever since I moved to Vancouver, most of my time is spent absorbing the lives of friends and family as told by Facebook - photos, status messages, comments. It has been the most useful, wonderful tool in keeping up-to-date with the lives of the people I love (and love to stalk).

Salamat, Facebook. :)

Looking forward to having more time to do things other than sit on my butt and destroy my eyes though.

Pilipinas! 28 more days! :D

Tickets Booked, Game Plan Sent.

2011-01-31T11:19:00.003-08:00

We emailed our game plan and our flight details to the parents already! :-) Cannot wait for the execution to start.

Boxes one to six are full. Seven and eight will be filled up soon. Hopefully, by next week, everything will be ready to roll onto the cargo ship.

I love how Tom has been researching on agricultural practices and hybrid rice. :-) Happy.

The Gift of Love

2010-12-22T13:25:00.005-08:00

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to meet an incredibly brave woman. Nanay Celia Santiago just arrived about a week ago to be with her youngest child, a young man of twenty-seven, diagnosed with malignant brain and spinal tumors.

With warm clothes in tow (Leah had three bags of sweaters and other things that could keep Nanay warm), we went to the hospital to visit the Santiago family. Pushing back the curtain of their room, a petite lady with a purple prayer book tells us “Ako po yung nanay niya.” She cries as she gives us an update on her son’s health. The doctors say to prepare for the worst. As she cries in the arms of Karen and Leah, a lady passes by to hug her as well. “Do not listen to those doctors. Just pray. Only God can say whether he will go or not.” Nanay nods her head and says thank you.

Her son, John is a temporary foreign worker here in Canada and has been here for two years. His sisters are based in Singapore while his parents live in Bulacan. In between heavy sighs and choking back tears, Nanay tells us how wonderful a son John is. He has been sending money back home to help support her and Tatay Eddy.

It’s the typical story of your young OFW, sending hard earned money back home to the people he loves. This time the story is ever so real. Breathing, Crying, Praying real. This time the story has an added cross.

“Gusto pa niyang mabuhay.”

And he really looks it. He looked good when we took a peek. Probably very different from the time he was vomiting earlier this morning – but in the few minutes that we had with him in his room, he looked fine. A bit tired, but fine.

“Sabi niya sa akin – Gusto ko pang mabuhay. Gusto pa niyang magsilbi sa Diyos. Kumakanta ang anak ko. Choir siya sa church.”

And Nanay goes back into their room to quickly get a CD she wanted us to see. It was an album by B4G – Boys For God. John was part of a Christian boy band back home. She was so proud. “Magaling kumanta ang anak ko.”

What hit the hardest though was when she said…

“Gusto niyang maranasan magmahal. At mahalin siyang tunay.”

That broke my heart.

He is twenty-seven. Just a few months younger than me. He had a girlfriend, Nanay said. But things didn’t work out. And she doesn’t know of his condition. She is probably back home in the Philippines.

Here I am, happily enjoying my honeymoon stage, so thankful for the chance to feel what I am feeling, for experiencing this life that I was given. I could not even fathom being where he is right now. “Mga anak, alagaan niyo ang kalusugan niyo. Yan ang kayamanan niyo.” Karen, Leah and I were already holding back our own tears.

And she said all this in a dignified manner, still wanting of respect, still hopeful, still thankful for what was there. Her son was alive and she and her husband were there to comfort him. Much has been given.

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Yesterday, when she said that John had yet to experience love, I felt a very deep sadness, almost an unfair amount of pity. Thinking it over now though, I see that there is much that he has experienced. The overwhelming love of a mother and father that have sold what they have, have incurred debts and are now braving the cold to be with him.

“Salamat mga anak. At nandito kayo.” Leah gave her a hug and said, “Naaay, sino pa bang magtutulungan kundi tayong kapwa Pilipino.”

That totally tugged at my heart.

John Santiago is experiencing love. A great, great love – the love of his family and the Filipino community that run the Vancouver General Hospital, the love and prayers of strangers who hear his story, people like Leah Gomez and Karen Azaña – nurses who will not be blasé to the everyday pains experienced by those who may be meeting our Lord sooner than later.

Maraming nagmamahal sa iyo John Santiago.

Christmas Card

2010-12-20T18:58:00.000-08:00

Digital scrapbook generated with Smilebox

Loathsome

2010-11-17T09:42:00.001-08:00

I want to be loathsome if loathsome means to be like Him.

"One must face the fact that all the talk about His love for men, and His service being perfect freedom, is not (as one would gladly believe) mere propaganda, but an appalling truth. He really does want to fill the universe with a lot of loathsome little replicas of Himself- creatures whose life, on its miniature scale, will be qualitatively like His own, not because He has absorbed them but because their wills freely conform to His. We want cattle who can finally become food. He wants servants who can finally become sons. We want to suck in, He wants to give out. We are empty and woukd be filled; He is full and overflows. Our war aim is a world in which Our Father Below has drawn all other things into himself: the Enemy wants a world full of beings united to Him but still distinct. " - Screwtape to Wormwood in letter number six

New Profile

2010-11-01T15:16:00.003-07:00

This has been my profile description since 2004. I think I should change it already.

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There is a time in ones life when youthful innocence comes to terms with the harsh realities of this world...thus begins the struggle between youthful idealism and the existing power structures in our society and the system that allows it to grow. :) The climb is such a struggle. But the journey is worth it if you walk with faith.

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It should now read: The Diaries of the DH.

Changing Tempo

2010-11-01T13:55:00.003-07:00

My days are filled with much love and happiness - without deadlines, time goes quickly without me knowing the date or the day. But the daily routine is still far from mundane. Adventures in the kitchen last the whole afternoon. Mornings are spent with God, with family, playing with Xave, learning his children's songs and always always being amazed at the things he learns each day. Evenings go by quickly too - movies with Tom, finding new places to eat, and learning new things about each other too. Domesticity suits me, me thinks.

It has been just a few months, but I feel like it has been much longer because I feel at home.

So much has happened back home too. That evening with TM was not enough for him to update me with everything that has happened since we left. The photos of the Enchanted Farm that are posted every so often on FB amaze me. The brochure that Karl made was super! Then there was the GK Hope Ball, the Expo and the relief operations for the Juan victims. Always something happening, always people moving, always a passionate bunch of people dancing to the beat of their hearts pounding to the same patriotic tune.

And it got me thinking. I wonder if my heart still beats the same way? Or has the tune changed because of the difference in lifestyle, the slowing down of the tempo?

That is an alarming thought that comes back to haunt me ever so often.

A few days before TM arrived, I picked up a copy of his book (the one that Tom had bought when we first met, the book that we now share, my only real copy). I skimmed through the pages, rereading the very familiar lines that I must have read at least one hundred times. I unconsciously marked the typos that were scattered across the book. But editing was not my intention this time.

The distance has made me feel a bit detached. And an unnecessary feeling of guilt creeps up.

I have given up everything. Yet feel like I have gained everything as well. And that's a good thing.

I wanted to read to remember. To remember what is happening back home. To feel what I can't feel when I read the news. I wanted to assure myself that I was not calloused to the needs of those left behind. That leaving is not an escape - just another way to reach our goal, another way to be our brothers' keeper.

*******

Spending the afternoon with George was amazing in itself. I love him. Listening to him was like reading the chapter "Patriots in Exile". His generosity was wild, treating me and my family to an evening in a suite across TM's. Taking us all to dinner, sharing his time and his stories with us as if we were his family too.

Crazy that he would take the time and the trouble to take care of us that way... that he would drive to the airport to get TM, that he would walk with us at midnight to grab a burger, that he would wake up early to feed TM and then take him to the airport too. Amazing.

He loves TM. The same way we all do.

*******

The room is quiet and I hear my heart beat. The pace has slowed down... but it's louder than ever.

Following the Little Way

2010-10-02T16:31:00.002-07:00

"Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love."

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Therese of the Child Jesus. Thinking of her and how she lived her life amazes me and comforts me.

Ever since I started working, I've always had relatively big goals - goals that were much larger than myself and the people close to me. I started at the Senate, then with WYA and GK. I worked for social justice, for the country, for the people, for dignity, for God. I ran around all power-dressed, greeting legislators, diplomats, the learned, the hoity-toity and all. I ran around in t-shirts, slippers, jeans - greeting titas, titos, the people who taught me the most essential things one ought to know. I read, wrote, followed, worked for the truth, for communities, for peace, for love.

I knew what I was doing was different. It was technically, the road less traveled - and I loved every bit of the path that I took. It was an exciting way to live. Modesty aside, it was a noble path to take. Big decisions were made and many lives touched.

Upon making another big decision, my everyday changes drastically.

The past two months have been spent very differently from how I used to live.

My daily schedule now consists of daily mass, cooking, laundry, making the bed, playing with my nephew and doing the dishes.

And I love it as well. :-)

It is definitely a much slower pace from before. But one that I try to do just as well.

Listening to the homily about St. Therese was such a comfort. It reminded me that although there may be "big" things and "small" things, what matters is that they are done with great love.

From GK hero, to housewife is not a demotion in the eyes of the people I love.

My path is just changing - it's becoming a little smaller - but still going in the same direction.

The Fruit Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

2010-09-22T11:37:00.003-07:00

My whole life, I have been told how much I am like my Lolo Tatay. His patriotism, his love for the land, his love for the people. His love for food. The deeper I got into working for communities, or the more I wrote about his hometown, the more I would hear comments about how much I am like him. And I love it. I love hearing how I am growing up to be like one of the men I have always adored.

Many times, I am also told how much I am like my Lola Nanny. The way I wear my hair up. How little make-up I wear. The church-going. The hoarding. And I like that too.

There are so many trinkets that I keep that remind me of them. I have the top of one of Lolo Tatay's pajama sets. I took it with me to Vancouver and wear it to sleep sometimes. I stole it from the closet after he passed away. I remember being the first to sleep on his bed after he died and put the pajama top over my pillow. Lola Nan has made so many rosaries, I have to keep track of where I've placed them all. For my wedding, she fixed a pretty topaz rosary from Tita Benditte - putting a Crucifix that she chose, replacing the original with her own. That rosary sits nicely on our bedside. :-)

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I have always been told how Obias I am - but never once thought that I was not a Tan. I mean, it is my last name after all - and I definitely look like one. I have always been close to my aunts, uncles and cousins on the Tan side, but unfortunately never had the chance to know Lolo Daniel (who died when Dad was younger). I vaguely remember Lola Chit - I was told that she loved me though and fed me grapes. I think she bought me my red wheelbarrow. I knew of them - but never really knew them.

Dad's stories about Lola Chit were always entertaining. But it was through Auntie Vangie's stories that I learned how great a woman she was. How loving, hardworking and cool she was.

And I knew that she loved to cook. All the Tan women cook. They are all amaaaazing when it comes to feeding all of us with delicious food. They work, they cook, they bake - super career women and super chefs in the kitchen. How they balance everything, I don't know. But they do. :-)

The first recipes that I tried out when I arrived were all from Auntie Babes. Several are hers, some from Lola Chit, some from other aunts scattered across the USA. Now, I'm not a great cook - but for an amateur, I'm not bad. I've learned to love the kitchen and the ingredients that are available. I feel at home in front of the stove and the oven. My favorite things in the kitchen are the mortar and pestle, the large knives and the chopping board. Lately, the wire whisk has been quite helpful too.

The more time I spend in the kitchen, the more I catch myself thinking of Auntie Babes and Auntie Ced. I remember watching Auntie Vangie bake and cook on Saturday mornings, and Auntie Trudes prepare anything and everything at Renaissance. I remember Auntie Beth and the yummy stuff she'd send over to the house. Auntie Emy and the meals she made in Baguio. Mmm... Then there's the pineapple upside down cake of Achie Jingjing and the salmon with wasabi mayonnaise and teriyaki sauce of Achie Janjan. The list of the different kinds of things the Tan women make goes on and on.

Maybe I do have what it takes to take on the kitchen. :-) It's gotta be in the blood.

After all, I am a Tan woman too. ;-)

Breakfast of Champions

2010-09-22T11:01:00.003-07:00

Last night, the Amanses went out for a swim and Tom and I were left to entertain ourselves. We had finished off the oatmeal cookies we made over the weekend and were craving something sweet again so we decided to bake something new. It's a good thing Manay Kat had ripe bananas for her banana muffins. I took a few and found a good-looking recipe.

Banana-Oatmeal Bars with Chocolate Chips

2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup quick-cooking oats
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups (packed) golden brown sugar
2 large eggs
1/3 cup mashed ripe bananas (about 2 large)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (I actually put two cups - that worked well - but we'll have a super hyper baby running around, so the amount of chocolate can vary)

(there were pecans in the original recipe, but we didn't put any)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour 15x10x1-inch baking sheet. Blend first 4 ingredients in medium bowl. Beat butter in large bowl until fluffy. Add both sugars and beat until well blended. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in bananas, then vanilla. Stir in flour mixture, then chocolate. Spread batter in prepared pan. Bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean and top is golden, about 45 minutes. Cool in pan on rack. Cut into 3x2-inch bars and serve.

YAY! The batter baked nicely and was done exactly forty-five minutes after popping it in the oven. It was nice and chewy/gooey - not too soft. :-)

After it cooled down, we stored it in the refrigerator for the next day. We cut it up into squares and they were perfect with milk. :-)

Bill, Jean and Happily Ever After

2010-09-17T11:07:00.006-07:00

Today, Tom and I are going to visit Bill and Jean.

Bill is an older professor at the Physics Department of UBC who has taken a liking towards Tom. He must be in his late 60s, if not a bit older. Jean is his gracious wife, tall and regal. A perfect match for her husband. They live in a quaint house near the university - a bus ride away for Bill, who also takes his bicycle. They have an old school radio, tuned into an AM station, that they listen to in the evenings and don't see the need for mobile phones. They have a beautiful garden, filled with a variety of flowers, with a nicely manicured lawn. The coziness of their home a reflection of their own warmth and hospitality.

They were among the first set of colleagues that I've met. They invited Tom and me for dinner when I came to visit in May, then prepared a little gathering of UBC friends to celebrate our marriage when we arrived last month.

That very special evening was quite perfect for the patio set-up they had - a nice cool, rain-free evening. Jean started off by offering alcohol-free punch. Each dainty punch glass had a surprise for the drinker: the ice cubes had a blueberry frozen inside. I took a mental note : Should do this too! Tom had bought ten pounds of fresh blueberries and we were popping them like there was no end (and really, ten pounds made it seem like there was no end).

We knew that it would be a small gathering - the team that Tom worked with:
Ron and his wife, Hala
Mary Ann and her husband, Alex
Gerry
Bridgette
and of course, our hosts, Bill and Jean.

From our end, they had invited Manay Kat, Kuya PJ and Xave.

We knew that they were going to offer us the yummiest of desserts. :-) And there were yummy desserts! Fresh fruits, pastries, cake, wine, coffee and tea. The best was the lemon cake that had a huge "Congratulations Tom and Tam" written on it!

What we didn't know though was that they had prepared games and a little something for us as well. :)

Each of the couples present gave us some advice on how to make our marriage a better one.

Ron and Hala were hilarious. After reading their seemingly serious note (white note posted above on our board), they ended it with two rules:

1. The wife is always right.

2. When the wife is wrong, see rule #1.

This knocked everyone off their seats. As Ron read these lines, Hala was just nodding her head with pride and approval. She says he has been trained well.

Bill, seated on a stool on our right, shared with us Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. He said he didn't want to really give advice but wanted to share with us something he liked. That's the yellow note posted on the board above!

Most of the their advice had to do with respect and communication. Those are two things that have helped them grow in their marriages.

Amazing really. In a country where separation, divorce or the desire to remain uncommitted are the norm, we were in the presence of couples that have made it work and continue to work at making it work. It was never difficult for Tom and me to find role models back home - our parents and grandparents are clearly our source of inspiration - but being able to find another set of fun, loving and inspiring couples here in Vancouver is really a blessing.

So today, Tom and I are going to drop off a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a freshly baked pound cake at their quaint little home. A simple thank you gift to the most gracious couple we have met here, for showing us that happily ever after does exist in the West, and that happily ever after is a constant work-in-progress.

Give and Gain

2010-09-12T19:27:00.003-07:00

Late last night I thought about the things that I gave up when I decided to get married. It was nothing too deep or too painful - a pinch here and there, but nothing that would make me regret being here.

I remember my mother-in-law sharing her story - of how she gave up her career as a nurse in Manila, to move to Goa and spend the rest of her life there with her husband. There will be many sacrifices she said.

I do not feel sorry for myself the way I thought I would. I mean, my days are packed with the little details of domestic life that I actually enjoy. I am learning a lot - about myself, about Tom, about giving and taking, about being married - among many other domestic chores.

Earlier today, I told Tom my thoughts - hoping he would not feel bad about it too.

He gave me a hug and said:

You gave up everything. But gained everything... it is just that its a different everything.

How Lovely is Your Dwelling Place

2010-09-10T16:15:00.003-07:00

I went to mass this morning and was pleasantly surprised that the church was filled with young students from the school nearby. It is the first week of school. :) This time there was music during the mass. The sound of their voices truly made me feel warmer, closer to God, and much more at home.

How lovely is your dwelling place,
O Lord mighty God, Lord of all

Of course the Himig Heswita version was not sung. But I couldn't help but remember the song and the video. It kept playing in my head as one of the student read the Responsorial Psalm.

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It's been one month since we moved here, and I must say, the transition has been quite easy. It has a lot to do with Tom and Manay Kat and Kuya PJ. The feeling of having family was always there. And the internet has made it much easier to be in contact with those back in the Philippines.

I have to admit though, that despite the marital bliss, and the comfort of waking up next to the man that I love, there are pangs of homesickness that hit me. Facebook has been such a big help in reminding me of the many things that I am missing out on, the people I love, the events in their lives and the country I fight for. Yet I soak it all in - reading, eating, breathing the minute details of their lives - trying to keep a connection to home.

Hmm. But this is home too.

---------

I had a conversation with someone before - I think it was Manay Camille - about the concept of Home and Feeling At Home. Wherever I was in the world - whether in San Francisco, or Virginia or New York - I always felt at home. There was no sick feeling or painful longing for Manila. I was always surrounded by people I loved and people who loved me. And then I would choose to go back to Manila.

It's not too different from here. Vancouver is beautiful. My husband is wonderful. Manay Kat, Kuya PJ and Xave are great. But this time there is a deeper longing for the Philippines.

Maybe it's because I'll be gone for a longer time.

Maybe because I had to let go of certain things I told myself I would never let go of.

It may sound sad - but really it's quite amazing... to have found someone that was so special that I was willing to let go of so many things. Bitter-sweet.

But more sweet than bitter.

To Fr. Nono

2010-09-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

Dearest Fr. Nono,

Before I left for Canada, I hurriedly wrote thank you notes to the rest of the God Squad - letters that I wish I had spent more time in writing, but rushed because I had really wanted them to be handwritten. There were twenty priests at our wedding - double the number I was expecting - but among them, you were one of those I was close to, one of the most involved in the preparations of our wedding and our marriage. When I got to your name in the list of priests that I was to write to, I paused and said a silent prayer for you and the people who love you. I decided that I’d write to you too - but that it can wait til I get to Canada. I’m sure you won’t mind it not being handwritten. I’m sure there is email in heaven.

I would like to thank you for so many things - not only for the crazy preparations that you, Fr. Jun and Fr. Jay did to make our wedding reception the most beautiful ever. Thank you for being such a good friend - to me and my family. Thank you for taking care of my Lola while we are all so far away from San Jose. Thank you for the laughter and the dancing. Thank you for feeding us with random things when we visit you in the seminary. Thank you for having so much faith in me and the other young people whose lives you also touched.

Remember when you made me speak to your boys about their vocations and connecting it to the “real world”? I thought you were kidding. You are just as bad as Fr. Aba - putting me on the spot, asking me to speak to a group of adolescent boys about things I myself was searching for. You stood at the back of the room, with a huge smile as always. Nodding your head in agreement as I pretended to talk with confidence and conviction. You wanted the boys to know more about the world - to be able to apply the Love of our Lord in the communities that needed to be loved. To bring the Gospel to life. The next day, you had them build at the GK site in Bongliw. I have so many photos of that day.

I clearly remember the day I brought Tom to meet you and the rest of the boys. We just came from Fr. Arkie’s and were going to check out the seminary and bring you hazelnut syrup from mom. Again, there was a huge smile on your face - as expected - but this time, your grin had a hint of teasing in it. “So you are the one!” you said, as Tom took your hand and placed it to his forehead. I’m sure our smiles were as big as yours. We spent that afternoon eating ginatan, fish and pili tarts. You spoke to us about marriage, about love and about family. We talked about history and current events, about rotary and about politics. We talked about a lot of things that afternoon. We ate and talked and laughed so much that by the time we looked out, it was dark.

There are a few people (and a few priests) that one can talk to on a level of faith and intelligence that satisfies many primordial questions. You were always very open to having discourse on God, life and Being. Never defensive. Always jolly. Always smiling. Always patiently allowing me to understand at my own pace. Our talks were like intellectual playgrounds where you allowed me to fall and get up, satisfying my doubts and deepening my faith.

As thankful as I am that we spent much time with you during your last week, I cannot help but feel sad that amidst the happiness and joyful chaos, you were hurting. How could we not have noticed that something was wrong? Did you just wait for the wedding to finish? For your commitments to be fulfilled before leaving us? Was it really your time? So many questions, so many thoughts on the Church’s stand on so many things started hitting me left and right when I found out. Thoughts on heaven and hell, of love and mercy, of forgiveness and justice clouded my head as tears welled up in my eyes.

There are so many things that I do not understand. There are some things that I do know, yet question. And there are other things that I am certain of. I know you are a good man, true to your vocation and open to those that need you. You are a man for others and a man of God.

I believe in God. He is merciful and He is just - but most of all He is Loving. I take comfort in that, knowing that you are with Him, as you have always been with Him.

Baba

"Shock and Awe" Surprise and Amaze

2010-08-20T12:56:00.005-07:00

Homily delivered by Rev. Fr. Domingo R. Florida during the wedding of Thomas Azana and Tamara Obias Tan on July 24, 2010 at the Parish Church of St. Joseph, San Jose, Camarines Sur, 3:00pm)

Your excellency, Bishop Jose Rojas of the Diocese of Libmanan,
Brother priests,
Parents of the bride and groom,
Tom and Tamara,
Brothers and sisters, good afternoon.

Many of us have traveled long just to be here with Tom and Tamara on their very special day. We cannot complain because in their invitation they explained to us why this wedding should be in this church. They say that it was in this church that God allowed them to find each other. And may I add, it was in a context of a wake. While Manay Benditte Hernandez and Manay Del Alladin were mourning, a new life for love has been born. Tom was able to meet at last Tamara, the girl who was constantly being mentioned to him by his father, Manoy Harry, and his brother Jayjay. It was not love at first sight, but a see was nurtured.

As I look back, I cannot but wonder in the approach used by Tom and Tamara in making their love for each other grow instantly. I think they adopted the strategy of the US in toppling Saddam Hussein in year 2003. A Pentagon officer explained that their strategy in using “shock and awe approach” was very effective. Within 20 days after the first air strikes, Tikrit, the hometown of Saddam Hussein fell down. It was the signal of the downfall of the dictator.

Thomas and Tamara also surprised and amazed us.

We were surprised when only after four months of knowing each other, Tom and Tamara were already mentioning about this wedding. I have to admit that I too was very much surprised by the swift progress that I controlled myself in texting and calling Manoy Leo and Manay Baby, the parents of the bride. I was afraid to be blamed. (Maybe now, I can again frequently stay in their house whenever I will be in Manila.) I know how much they have treasured Tamara, their eldest and only daughter. Some have expressed reservations. They have still to know more each other and this demands great lengths of time. But we were amazed because Tom and Tamara showed us that it was not only human attraction that brought them together, but a diving attraction, an attraction which, in better and in worse, would keep them together. They constantly communicated, and they went out of their way to really discern if they are meant for each other. Tamara went to Canada and stayed for two weeks just to connect and try the kind of life she has to live with Tom. Tom returned to the Philippines twice last year so as to be able to know closely Tamara and her family. Indeed, it is not only the length of time that matters, but likewise the quality and efforts exerted that you can test the sincerity of a person.

We were surprised when we came to know that their wedding will be in this town. Tamara is a resident of Quezon City, while the family of Tom is in Naga. For convenience, it would be logical to have this wedding either in Manila or in Naga City. But here we are in Partido, at the back of Mount Isarog. Their justification is because it was at this church that they met each other. But their is a deeper reason: I believe that they want to honor their grandmothers who have been faithful to their grandfathers. They would like to be in a place where the love stories of their grandparents came to be rooted: for Tom it was in Goa, while for Tamara, it was in San Jose. Lola Riting, after she became a widow did not remarry, content in the fact that she had a wonderful marriage, she believes there would be no second time around. Nanay Nellie even until now persists in wearing black clothes. She is showing that when Tatay Munding died, her heart went with him. As it is on earth, so it will be in heaven, she will always be Tatay Munding’s wife. As you can see this afternoon, next to the bride and groom, the persons exuding with pride and gratitude are their grandmothers, Lola Riting and Nanay Nellie.

Tom and Tamara amazed us because in honoring their grandmothers, they likewise honor their parents, and in honoring them, they would like to realize that if today there is a lot of talk about marriage being in crisis, there are also good news about marriage, which goes all too hidden and unnoticed: there are many couples who still celebrate their diamond jubilees; there are still those who hold hands; there are still those who celebrate their married love in countless and creative ways. Indeed, there are still those who know God to be the heart of their married lives and who honor Him as such; there are still those who are able to suffer and persevere because they know their love is deeper than their pain since that love is grounded in God; there are still those full open and generous without condition to God’s plan for their unity of embrace and for their diversification in the gifts of children; yes, there are still those who know their marriage has been made in heaven. And the best proof of these are their parents, Manoy Harry and Manay Weehlee; Manoy Leo and Manay Baby, and their grandmothers.

Tom and Tamara, you have experienced how it is to grow in a Christian family. You have experienced so much love in your life. Tom, you have been flooded by the love of your second mother, Manay Evelyn. Now, as you begin your journey as husband and wife, do not be afraid. You have a good foundation and good models, your parents and your grandmothers. Do not fail them.

All of the catechesis about marriage - becoming one flesh, a lifelong commitment, is a tall order, and you cannot do it alone. With the support of your families, the church, through the Holy Spirit, you will be sustained and strengthened by God who blesses and abides with you. The Eucharist that we share today is a strength and reminder that in baptism you were and are marked as Christ’s own forever, and that you are participants in the body of Christ, where loneliness and isolation are overcome in worship, in our community and in the sharing of the bread and cup, the Body and Blood of Christ. In the words of the psalmist, “You shall be happy.”

Congratulations and best wishes.

Destiny and Determination

2010-08-17T11:22:00.001-07:00

This is a year of changes and challenges. As the whole country watches the fifteenth President of the Philippines start his term, my whole world and Being will transition as well. From being single to married, from residing in the Philippines to elsewhere, from being a working woman to domestic goddess - I will experience the biggest change in my life. Just a few weeks ago, I became the wife of one of the most amazing men I have ever met.Sometimes I have a hard time deciding whether it was destiny or determination (and yes, that thought crosses my mind for President Aquino as well). Maybe it was a bit of both.

More than a year before we met, his mother told me “Huwag ka munang magka-boyfriend ha! Hintayin mo anak ko. Uuwi yun next year. Dapat ma-meet mo!” And so I smile, the way many young women do when being matched by a very well-meaning tita. Tita turns to her husband, who smiles broadly and nods his head with excitement. It was an odd place for such a conversation. We were in the middle of abuild site for a Gawad Kalinga village in Bukidnon. Tita and tito were in matching long-sleeves to protect them from the sun, their uniforms proudly saying TEAM CAMARINES SUR, their passion and excitement over the build activity (and the potential match for their son) made it impossible to believe that they had travelled more than two days on bus, boat and bus again to be with us in the middle of Mindanao. They are volunteers that love the poor and shared the overflowing love that they had for each other and their children for those that needed more love than they received. I wasn’t thinking about their son at that time – but I was thinking about how nice it would be to be in a relationship like that. To be like them someday.

More than a year later, I still had no boyfriend. Tita’s prayers must have been strong (or maybe my prayers for a boyfriend then and there weren’t strong enough). I got a call from my insistent tito from GK Camarines Sur. His son was in town for vacation. Being the obedient girl that I am, I meet the son. He was here for three weeks. We met on his second day in the country and spent almost every day after together. The night before he left, I asked him what his plan was. “Papakasalan kita.”

I was blown away by his answer. I didn’t quite understand where it came from. It couldn’t be love – could it?

I asked him to define what all that meant, what love meant to him and where he thought whatever we had was going. He said that it was basically a choice, sans the romance and all the fireworks. It is acommitment. Heavy words for someone who had met me just three weeks earlier and was about to fly off to Vancouver the next day. He had made his choice. He said he was going to marry me. A statement, not a proposal. He was sure of what he wanted.

A few months after he left for Canada, I found myself telling my parents that I was getting married. My parents were always very supportive and kind and welcoming to the boys I dated, but telling them this was different.It was definitive. Final. Serious. Crazy (I mean, I hardly knew the man). I had my hunches on how they would react - shock,disbelief, disappointment were among my guesses - as were excitement,happiness, wonder and confusion. I got a mix of all of the above. Not a bad reaction from loving parents - I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

It was all so fast - and I surprised everyone who meant the world to me. But I think I was the most surprised of them all. I didn’t see this one coming - not yet at least. But I also believe that amazing things happen if you let them. And I’m happy I rode the wave when amazing things came my way. I am grateful that I opened my heart at the right time because the greatest love story came my way when I least expected it.Who would have thought my journey towards my husband would begin on the day my mind was focused on digging a septic tank? The fruit does not fall far from the tree they say - and so as I look at my husband, I am assured that I am marrying a man that has a heart big enough for me, the people I love and the dreams I have for our country. His first experience with love was with his parents - so I’m definitely on the right track to being like them someday.

I look at my own family’s photo - taken at a time when we were all living under my parent's roof. My mom and dad have gone through many changes and storms in their lives as well - beginning with the typhoon that hit them on their wedding day. Amidst the people they loved, sampaguitas and the crazy rain and wind - they made a commitment to each other, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish and everything else. My parents are the type to share their love story (from start to the wedding until the present day) - and in my head, from the stories and the betamax that documented their special day, it was a perfect wedding. The storm added to the perfectness of it. The beauty of the wedding though went beyond that day and can be seen and felt in the marriage that they have. I can attest to that since I’ve been around throughout most of their married life. They were in constant transition - moving from Manila to California to New Jersey and back. Obviously, it cannot be a perfect marriage - but it is a beautiful one in which they continue to grow together, learn about themselves, their children and the world.

I look at our own plans - from Manila to Vancouver and someday to Naga. I wonder if I’ll handle my own family the same way. I wonder if I will love my own children the same way. I wonder if I will be as good as them.

My lola would say that the greatest love story is that of her Christ, who lived and died for all of us. I can’t argue with that.

But the greatest love story is repeated over and over when I see the same love of Christ reflected in the lives of others - in the marriage of my parents, and in the marriage of my parents-in-law. It is through determination, sacrifice and patience that I can emulate the love of our mommy and dad and our mama and papa. It is in constant transition that I will experience the love of the man I married and I welcome the changes and challenges that will allow us to grow. According to my boss, the greatest love affair is the one we have with our nation - and it is the men and women we meet in the work, that appreciate the work, that are the greatest, most passionate lovers. There can’t be a clearer reflection than that.

It is our destiny to have been loved in such a way. But it is through sheer determination that we can love the way our God did.

Pilipinas Kong Mahal

2010-08-17T11:19:00.001-07:00

February 14, 2010

Every Valentine's day, I receive emails and text messages about romance and love. My favorite has always been the quote of Pedro Arrupe, SJ: Fall in love, stay in love and it will decide everything.

Fr. Arrupe tells us to fall in love. And we all do. We fall in love - and as he says - it influences everything that we do. And because it's such a wonderful, beautiful thing - we celebrate it on the 14th of February. The love he speaks of though need not be romantic - in fact, Fr. Arrupe was probably alluding to our love for the truth, for what is right, and perhaps given that he was a Catholic priest - for God.

I clearly remember a Valentine's Day several years ago, a group of students, alumni and faculty gathered in front of Katipunan to listen to updates on the latest happenings in our government on the Jun Lozada case. This was a gathering of people who wanted to learn more about the situation, and find out what they can do to find the truth, to work for accountability and reform for a country that they loved.

So that year, Valentine's day was spent with my friend Donna, and our date place was gate 2.5 of the Ateneo de Manila University. Students shouting. Banners flying. People standing on the U-turn slot blocks. Traffic slowing, cars honking and drivers and passengers participating in this democratic exercise. Exciting? Very. The people's intensity during this event and all the events that followed was contagious. But we were in a safe place, near the gates of our university. And one wonders, how far would we go to be heard? How far would we go to work for change in our beloved country?

A few years passed and one wonders again: was it enough to honk, to yell, to light a candle? Was that enough to show the world how much I loved the Philippines? These little bursts of mass action in Makati or Mendiola are like romantic bouts with our country. The height of kilig. The allure of danger. The passion of our anger and frustration. We take to the streets - but then what? The flirtation with the rebels with a cause start to fade, and a year later the problems continue to exist.

It is one thing to mobilize people to go to the streets and rally - and it's another thing to mobilize people every week to rally the communities and work. It is just as important - if not more important - to find the root of the problem and not just attack the problem, and move from there. What has to be done to address the problem of poverty? Lack of integrity? Lack of transparency? The spark was felt during the rally, but was this call for change merely an infatuation?

This is not to discount the importance nor the influence of the peaceful street protests that have taken place, and that continue to take place. Since they are important why should they be reserved for the scandals and scams? Why make a stand only when the whistle-blowers come out and the media goes nuts? Making a stand should be something we are always doing. Commitment is always working towards a better government, a better community, a more peaceful and prosperous country. Our passion for work toward a better country should always be burning, that even when the issues du jour dies down, we must not forget nor become complacent or callous.

The rally-goers love the Philippines. It takes brave hearts like them to come out and make a stand. But in our love for our people we can not afford to just be brave but we must be loyal as well.

Loyalty is not for puppy love; it's a mature commitment, a choice. And there are those who have fallen head over heels in love with the country and continue to love her through thick and thin. In sickness and in health. We see this through the sacrifice of many - through the blood, sweat and tears of our living heroes.

I have had the honor to meet many of these men and women – individuals from different sectors of society – tirelessly working with or without the world’s attention. There are hundreds of thousands of Filipinos who show their love for our country in the quiet fervor of their everyday choices – the Pathways volunteer that patiently helps the scholars with their homework, the Youth TRIP kids that tour public school students giving them chance to see our country through a different lens, the Raya school teachers that instill the sense of pride and Filipino identity into the hearts of their little preschoolers, and the citizen who decides not to pay his way out of a traffic violation or through the bureaucracy.

It is the ordinary Filipino that inspires me. In fact, it is the ordinary Filipino that has taught me how to love. I have learned to grow in faith and love for my God and my country through the fine example of the Gawad Kalinga care-taker teams that walk hand-in-hand with the rising poor through thick and thin.

These community builders have sacrificed time and resources, building trust and sharing hope, building homes and sharing their own dreams with people who were not family to them. They dared to love those who were difficult to love. And that in itself entails much courage and faith – but staying with them, even after the novelty and feel-good feeling has run-out demands faithfulness. The care-takers choose to spend their time with their new families. They choose to trust the poor, to respect them, to love them.

During the month of February, the whole world celebrates the day of love. In the Philippines, we celebrate not just any love, but our love for the Philippines, for democracy and for the truth. 24 years ago, the Filipino was able to show the world how much he loved his country and EDSA was the hottest date place in town. The passion was high, the feelings intense, and I would like to believe that the love was true. I would also like to believe that it wasn't a one shot deal.

According to Arrupe, we should fall in love, but more importantly stay in love.

Fighting for the truth, for social justice, for love shouldn't be a fling. Love for our country and for the Filipino should be a commitment.

//Inspired by last weeks meeting with the Love Forum organizers. <3

Ringring

2009-06-11T16:44:00.002-07:00

The streets are lined with the Philippine flag, the proud symbol of our country’s history, of our nation’s sovereignty and our people’s identity. This somewhat rare surge of nationalism occurs several times a year – like the day we celebrate our nation’s independence. It is on the 12th of June that we remember the day the Filipino was declared free, free from his colonial masters and free to control his destiny. These are the times in which I wrestle with my own thoughts - a battle to acknowledge whether or not our people are truly free.

These are also the times in which I think “freedom” is one of the most overused, abused and overrated words. Everyone wants to be free. Everybody talks about freedom – freedom from, freedom to, freedom for. It is such a buzz word in the human rights movement and probably one of the most sought after words of the youth. It is also the most played with words of the marketing and consumer driven world. How ironic that when you say something is free, you don’t pay for anything and it is equated to not having any monetary worth or of having cheap value. Then you have a clamoring that all people are free or are meant to be free – not having monetary worth but being much more than whatever money can buy.

There is an almost scary obsession with freedom that has leaked into our consciousness. It need not be a bad thing, but the danger of defining freedom in the most selfish of ways is always imminent. The mainstream understanding of freedom has been to do whatever you want. It is linked to having no inhibitions, no barriers, and no forms of external control. To be free has been defined to have all the options lined up for ones use, and the ability to choose whichever you fancy. This screwed up understanding of absolute freedom blurs the reality that we face and the true freedom that we crave and many times miss out on.

I have always believed that the human person is always free, regardless of whatever his or her status in life may be. He or she will always have options available – but probably not all the options that one would wish were available. There are many things that we do not have control over, but we can always choose the way we will act and react to the things that come our way. Real freedom is being able to do what one believes is right, most especially during the times in which the choosing to do the right thing is difficult.

Now more than ever, the Filipino is challenged to exercise the innate freedom that he has – to address the challenges that we face as individuals and as a people. It's also time that we recognize how intrinsically linked our humanity is to this freedom - that although it goes beyond the price of anything material, it also not without a substantial cost. The sweat on the brow of the hardworking man, the clamor of the students that march for justice, the choice to walk the path less traveled - decisions made to do what is moral and just - seem to prove that freedom is not free. But it is well worth it.

We have always been free. We still are. It is just a matter of believing it and acting upon it.

Brother #2

2009-06-07T17:44:00.001-07:00

I told myself I wouldn’t cry.
That he would be back in a matter of months. Like me. Like Dandan.

Focusing on work and school, I made myself appear as nonchalant as possible – as if Mikey was just going for a vacation. I was used to leaving my family behind and flying all over the place, so this was supposed to be similar - except for the fact that Mikey would do the flying this time.

Woke up early this morning to see him off. NW72 was my usual flight to the east coast and I took comfort in knowing that my brothers and I were taking similar journeys, although at different times. I was too sleepy to feel sad. But alert enough to make it seem like I was excited for him and everything that was in store for him.

Something is telling me that he may be gone a little longer than the months we gave ourselves to grow when we left for the States.

And it’s only now that it’s sinking in.

He has always been the most hard-headed among the boys. Almost as hard-headed as me, I guess. And since he says he’s not going to come home anytime soon, he may very well mean it.

Of course Dandan and I would roll our eyes and laugh when he’d say that. We would tell him that he’ll be back in a matter of months, haughtily sporting a wiser, been-there-done-that attitude. I came back home after half a year, Dandan came home after four months. We told Mikey we were giving him two months.

Now though, I’m not too sure.

He left a letter for me, Dandan and Lee. Something I expected him to do – but not for us. Our dynamic as siblings has always been interesting and comfortable, but Mikey has been the most distant one recently and the more difficult one to read. We just let him be. He let us be.

His letter was reassuring. Short and straight to the point. He loved us. And that’s what mattered.

I had nothing to give him before he left. No letter, no baon, no time. The people who we hold closest to our hearts are the ones we most often take for granted. And when we hurt them, the pain cuts deep. The guilt I feel now is deep.

Sana nasabi ko kahit isang saglit sa buhay ko na mahal kita
Na hagkan ka’t nasabing salamat sa aking pagkatao.

Mikey recounted the simpler, happier, younger times in which we enjoyed each others company. Somewhere along the way, we grew up and sort of apart. Strange for people who see each other almost everyday – but it happens. Now that he is moving half a world away things are going to be different and there is no time for regrets and tearful apologies.

Thanks for the letter, Mikeypoo! I hope for the same things too. I’ll write often. And there’s magicjack. And facebook. The boys have yet to read it. We may go find a quiet spot today and just sit. We’ll save a seat for you (the same way we’ll keep you on the white board). I love you Mikeypoopoohead! I wish you luck and many prayers. You are my guy with the goal. *Yakap*

*tear*

History train - INQUIRER.net, Philippine News for Filipinos

2009-01-20T21:57:00.000-08:00

For the whole article - Theres The Rub: History Train

Taken from: Theres The Rub: History train
By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 23:13:00 01/20/2009

Democracy is not a weak system, it is the most powerful one. More powerful than autocracy, more powerful than dictatorship, more powerful than fascism. That is so because it does not make the state powerful, it does not make the government powerful, it does not make a few people, enlightened or tyrannical as they may be, powerful. It makes the people powerful. Only the people have the power to decide their own fate. Only the people have the power to solve their own problems.

A nation is only as strong as its people are. Lincoln himself faced the perfect storm in the form of a divided nation and weathered it, or allowed his nation to (he himself perished in its wake) by calling forth the democratic ideal. Roosevelt himself faced the perfect storm in the form of the Great Depression and weathered it, or allowed his nation to (fortunately, he lived long enough despite disease to see it recover) by living forth the democratic ideal.

Obama will, too. He has already begun, by hitching America back to its roots:

Democracy.

#44

2009-01-20T19:34:00.001-08:00

Last night, the American in me just had to stay up and watch the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States of America.

Tito Bok kept texting – telling me to stay awake. He and Tita Nene stayed clear of DC and the Mall in particular, watching the same thing we all were from the nice warm comfort of their homes. I suppose I would stay home too. The novelty of Obama would fade eventually if you’re a DC local.

But I’m not a DC local, and I was definitely not there that night/morning/whatever. So I forced myself to stay up and stay alert (not too successfully at that).

Pew 54.

I never knew they started the day with a service at St. John’s. And I don’t think I ever heard so much talk about God or faith in political speeches before. Of course it’s also possible that I never really had much interest in the political happenings in the United States until fairly recently… or would get turned off right away if GWB brought up God. Here is a man, albeit a democrat with life issues that I definitely disagree with, who has faith in a Being much greater than he. I’d totally believe Obama if he threw the phrase “God Bless America” out to a crowd of people hungry for hope and change. Whether it’s a façade or the real deal – here is a man who wears his faith on his sleeve, open for all to see, judge, emulate.

I wonder what George Weigel is thinking. His last book spoke of the need for America to find her soul. That as a nation, the US has forgotten about God – in whom America trusts (according to their dollar). When you lose your God, your faith, your core values, or whatever it is that your absolutes are, it becomes so much more difficult to defend yourself. This was all written within the context of the war in the Middle East – and I had a hard time swallowing everything that was said, but Weigel definitely had a point there. What exactly are our core values as a nation?

Change. Hope. Faith.
According to the commentator on CNN, these words appear time and time again in the speeches of Obama. These are the words that have attracted America and the rest of the world – words that are not at all political. They said that these are American ideals. Heck, these are everyone’s ideals. His message is one that resonates in a world that is just plain hungry for some good to happen. Strange that the cry for something better came strong and loud from a nation that was supposed to be high up there. Better need not mean more materially. That was clear to me.

Looking Forward.
I am not so sure what to expect from this man and his administration. He has a ton of work on his plate and I am so not jealous of the position he is in. As a person who is somewhat left of center, I am pleased that he is there. As a person who takes life issues seriously, I’m petrified of the changes that will take place. As a member of the American minority, I take pride in the great leap forward, away from the WASPy stereotype that occupies seats of power in the US. As a Filipino, I am not too hopeful that there will be great changes in our relationship with the US – whether it’s a democrat or a republican in the White House, it’s still imperial America.

But whatever. Exciting times parin. Still hopeful. Abangan...

Friendship and YTRiP

2009-01-15T03:03:00.000-08:00

Last night I was able to meet up with a good friend (Hi Clare!). And as always, it was good. Coffee/Hot Chocolate and a hearty breakfast at the odd-hour of 9pm at Bo's Katipunan. A familiar, homey area to set the tone of our life-updates.

There are some friendships that are formed over years of classes together, over shared experiences with teachers, uniforms and the same canteen food everyday from elementary to high school and sometimes even college. Then there are some friendships forged through a bond of shared vision and passion. I'd like to think that's what Clare and I have. Sure, we've had classes together and have gone to field trips together - but looking back, it was through coffee chats on cultural heritage, development and nationalism that we really started becoming friends.

Unfortunately, I was the bad kid that never really became involved with the Heritage Conservation Society. On the other hand though, I'd like to think I have redeemed myself by falling head over heals in love with Youth Trip Philippines (which deserves its own blog entry really).

In the meantime, because I love my family and friends, I'd like to share the things that make me happy - YTRIP is among these happy thoughts/realities. Check out their event on Thursday, 22 January!

Hope to see you guys at ROX on Thursday! :-)

------------------

Hear experienced travelers talk about discovery, survival, and abandoning plans. Plus, with the looming financial crisis, we'll share some ideas on how to create meaningful trips on the cheap.

Admission is FREE. Register at youthtrip@gmail.com or rox.cs@primegrp.com.

YTRIP thanks our Backpacking Pilipinas partner, R.O.X. and our speakers from Alquimista Trails, Inc. and Old Manila Walks.

For Gian Puyo

2009-01-05T19:44:00.000-08:00

Gian Puyo is currently battling dengue fever. With only a platelet count of 10, he is in critical condition and is in need of type O+ blood donors.

If you are willing and in the condition to donate, he is currently confined in Room 532 of the Cardinal Santos Memorial Hospital. He needs all the help that he can get.

Please pray for his speedy recovery, and pass this message to your family and friends. Thanks.

[XY and Rita!!! Thanks for informing the community and everyone else!]

Happy New Year, Friends!

2009-01-01T00:13:00.000-08:00

To a year of deeper passions, kinder hearts, true love and short griefs - to beer, music and laughter. Sunrises, sunsets, rainy days and fruitful harvests. To high hopes and impossible dreams. To family, friendships and romance. To loyalty, bravery and the brilliance of the truth. To our country, to service, to Filipino pride. To our unwavering faith in humanity and the unconditional love of the Transcendent.

To you and your loved ones - a blessed 2009!

Love 101

2008-12-21T17:17:00.001-08:00

Finding God in All Things. :-)
I see Christ here.

The God of the Stable

2008-12-17T20:34:00.000-08:00

Several years ago, Kuya Mark (or was it Ate Nancy?) gave a talk during the A-days Christmas batch... then handed me a photocopy of an article used during the talk. As if in perfect timing with the start of Simbang Gabi, I found the article, neatly folded in the pocket of my handbag.

The God of the Stable: "Here - take Him He is yours"
By Julie A. Collins
Taken from National Jesuit News, December 2000

As Advent melts away and December 25th seems to race towards us, I am reminded of a Christmas lesson one of my students taught me. On the day we were to break for the Christmas holiday, I was shamelessly using a move to stem the tide of pre-vacation euphoria. (Even the best behaved freshmen boys have been known to hang from the ceilings on the last day before Christmas break - and string their teacher up with them! One must have a plan...) The class was viewing the Annunciation and Nativity segments of Franco Zeffirelli's "Jesus of Nazareth". As the exhausted couple reached the stable and Mary's labor intensified, I will never forget the look of horror on Scott's face as he turned to me and whispered in his little Dallas accent, "Mr. Collins - you mean she was in pain? The Blessed Mother gave birth to Jesus in pain?"

"Yes Scott," as I bent over his incredulous face, "the Blessed Mother was in pain when she delivered Jesus." "Oh, my God," the boy breathed. Fifteen years later that question still rumbles in my memory and as Christmas approaches, I touch it again. I see Scott's face, and know that I have to do as Ignatius of Loyola urges: I have to beg God to let me enter that stable. If I want to touch the God who was born in Bethlehem, I have to come close to poverty, the pain, and the confusion of that night. I have to be willing to let God peel away the neat and tidy Christmas card laminate that covers my imagination and makes the Incarnation neat, tidy and domesticated.

It is none of these things. The incarnation at its most shattering is rooted in God's vast humility and the scene in the stable shouts that Love will go anywhere, touch any pain, bear any burden to be with the Beloved. The Incarnation reminds us that the God of the universe, who sculpted the Milky Way and flung it into the sky, took shape in the flesh and bone and blood of a woman simple because she said "Yes." The Incarnation reveals that Love can be desperate, can be willing to take any risk if the Beloved can be saved, found, and grounded in the truth once more.

But to know that Love we have to be willing to come to Bethlehem. And I know I draw back. I don't want to see it - the panic on Joseph's face as he fruitlessly begs for shelter, the terror in Mary's eyes as she wonders if she will die giving birth to this child, the blood on the straw, the stench of the stable, the filfth of the animals. I cling to my Hallmark images because they save me from a God who has chosen to be helpless, a God who even now insists on entering my life enmeshed in the mess, the confusion, and the ordinary disappointments. I want the God of the angel song, I want the God of the Epiphany. The God who rises from the love of two panichked human beings is too challenging, too complex, too close.

Perhaps I am not alone in this. Why are there countless bloody and graphic paintings of Jesus' death and yet his birth is always portrayed as serene and seraphic? It's not that I quibble with the angels. I'm sure they were there. But not at first - not visible, not there to magically stem the tide of human fear and human failure.

It's not that the angelic visitors would blush at the physical, sexual reality of birth. Without body themselves, they would not despise Mary hers. They would witness a man and woman in the most intimate of circumstances. Joseph, who knew it was forbidden by Law for a man to see a woman in labor, bravely fumbling his way through the mysteries of childbirth, begging God to save his wife and son. And Mary, with pain pounding in waves through her barely pubescent body, wondering whatever possessed her to leave Nazareth, yet sure that the good man beside her was the one she needed with her on this mysterious journey.

We have to see this couple before the angels, before the shepherds, before the kinds. We have to see them when all they had was each other and the conviction that, even in the midst of this disaster, their God would not abandon them. Joseph and Mary gave birth to Emmanuel that night because they already knew him. They knew and trusted the One who is always "with us".

And they knew the God who would come into that stable, come into their fear, come into their own feelings of failure. Mary believed in a God who would be that close, that little, that intimate. She could say to God, "Yes, you may take flesh in me - not because I am worthy but because I know that you can do anything. And if you need me, I am yours."

Jesus became the God that Joseph and Mary knew. He became the man who God would be when God takes flesh. The tenses are all wrong there of course, because the Logos lives outside of tense, outside of time. But it is my stumbling effort to express the mystery. Even in becoming himself, even in taking flesh and growing up within a human family, God chose the most wonderful cooperation with human beings. It is at the core of our dignity and also at the center of our frustration. God is always choosing to save the world through us.

His reverence to our freedom is breathtaking. God continually flooding us with grace but he never overrides our will. Like Mary and Joseph, we are always and forever free to accept his partnership in the work of salvation or reject it.

Is this a God we can accept? Can we celebrate a God who would choose to enter the world so dependent on human beings? Can we love a God who does not spare us the struggle of salvation? A God who may send us to Bethlehem or to Calvary?

This Christmas I ask myself and wonder if I can be that grown up. Can I be a companion of Jesus or am I secretly wishing for a safer road, a surer outcome? Can I look at the Christmas creche and beg for a share in the human courage that under girds it?

My mind flashes to a hot day in July when I was making the "long retreat" and praying over the Nativity story. As Ignatius Loyola advises, my director had told me to pray for the grace of being placed by God in the gospel scene. I begged for that gift as the prayer period began but not, I confess, with much confidence. As any experienced retreat director knows, the Ignatian "Application of the Senses" seems to occur quite naturally as the retreatant moves through the Spiritual Exercises. But for some people, myself included, this use of imagination does not always produce a "visit" to the scene itself.

But on this morning in July, something broke open and there I was, at the mouth of the cave, cautiously peering in at the couple. The agony of birth had passed and an exhausted, happy glow enveloped them both as Mary cooed over the baby and nursed him. Suddenly, she looked up, smiled and in the most familiar way said: "Joseph, look it's Julie. Julie, come in." In stunned silence I stood rooted to the spot until Jospeh came over to me, took me gently by the arm and led me to where Mary was seated with Jesus. She held him up to me with the delight of any mother and said, "Here - take him. He is yours." I drew back, but she only chuckled and slipped the baby into my arms. As I looked down all I could see was his tiny, fuzzy head, nestled in the crook of my arm.

The God of the universe, in my arms, in my hands, in my power - waiting, always waiting, for my "Yes". My face was drenched with tears.

This is the miracle of Christmas - this is Love enfleshed. In a frail but tender human "Yes". In a man, in a woman, a baby struggling to be born. And so are we - so are we. We struggle to be born and it is this humble God, our God of the stable, who gives birth to us - with our "Yes" - over and over again. Merry Christmas.

Ateneo Planner

2008-12-17T02:40:00.000-08:00

I want.

According to Ate A-Shop, they are not selling this year.

HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY?!??!

Find Lee ala Oblation

2008-12-14T11:06:00.000-08:00

HAHAHAHA!!! I cannot believe he did this. Or wait. Maybe I can.

Find Lee posing like the Oblation. Save the nation through the Oblation daw.

Taken from the Philippine Star (14 December 2008)

Pero in fairness, frontpage ng PDI! Congratulations, Leepot. You're a headline.

Happy 60th Birthday UDHR!

2008-12-10T01:24:00.000-08:00

Seeing Anne Elicano’s facebook status reminded me of Mary Ann Glendon’s A World Made New – a historical account of the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

On one hand, one would think how simple it should have been to list down all the things a person deserved and ought to have in his/her lifetime, and that it would be just as simple to list the things that one should not do to a fellow human being. On the other hand, if it were that simple to recognize the dos and don’ts of human nature, then it should have followed that the “do not dos” would not ever have happened. It also wouldn’t have taken the commission two years to draft.

War as a Necessity?

Sixty years ago today, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the international community. Shaken by the atrocities of World War II, the world finally decided that something should be done. “The Holocaust altered forever the way in which people considered human rights. Prior to World War II the prevalent attitude had been that the protection of human rights was primarily a domestic concern” The war made it clear that human rights is a universal concern and that there was a need for the international community to protect and uphold these rights. In order to keep the peace among the nations, the United Nations (UN) was established (1945). In 1946, the Commission on Human Rights was established by the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC). It took more than two years for the commission to come up with a document that articulated the fundamental and inalienable rights of all people that all nations involved agreed to. By 1948, the draft declaration, which the commission had worked on, was proposed to the members of the UN. The debates continued throughout the year in the General Assembly’s Third Committee. On 10 December 1948, the General Assembly adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Forty-eight nations voted for the declaration, eight abstained and two were not present during the vote. Of course, the global community welcomed this document because it articulated the basic rights and needs of each individual. I mean, who could say no to human rights and human dignity (openly that is)? What sucks is that the carnage that took place during the war was what was needed in order to emphasize the need to protect the rights of the people.

I’m exaggerating. I would like to believe that war was not needed to recognize the rights of people – but it definitely pushed the international community to articulate it and safeguard what should have been quite obvious in the first place.

The Preamble.

The preamble states the main idea of the declaration – that the international body recognizes the inherent dignity of each person and the equal, inalienable rights of all individuals. It articulates the importance of the declaration, noting that the recognition of this dignity and these rights is the “foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world”.

Inherent. Inalienable. Such big words. The first few words in the preamble are enough to make blood flow from the ears and noses of anyone who will give the document the time of day. These words are easily skipped, heck, the preamble is easily skipped – as most human rights groups go straight to the meat of the document which lists the specific rights.

One should never underestimate the importance of the introduction though. It sets the tone and the framework of the people who drafted the document. It gives the lens that is needed to view UDHR.

Inherent dignity of each person – obviously, we aren’t just talking about pride or some superficial worth here. Each person, because he or she is human, is valuable. It is natural. It is innate. It is your Being, your humanity, ang iyong pagkatao – not affected or altered by any variables that could make you different from other people. Each person has dignity because he is human. This can go on in philosophical debate – but I will not even attempt to go there because I’m not really supposed to be typing this in the first place. I’m supposed to be studying for statistics. Regardless, because of the trafficking paper I just finished, I am somewhat on a human rights roll. So I shall continue.

Human dignity is the foundation of human rights.

And it is because of this natural worth, that we recognize the inalienable rights of individuals. There is a distinction between dignity and rights – and it drives me up the wall when people interchange it. The very reason why we recognize ones rights is because we see their worth as people. Human dignity begets human rights – and not the other way around.

I remember one of my trainees asking me if a poor person who begs in the street has dignity.

If one defines it as pride or that superficial worth that we were talking about earlier (and yes, I know this is the language used by groups like Gawad Kalinga… “restoring the dignity” and all that) – we can probably say no. But if defined as his/her worth as a person – then dear God, yes. It is because we see the humanity in this person, regardless of color, cleanliness, and economic status that we can say yes, he has dignity – and it is because of that, that we are appalled by the situation he is in. Because we know that all people are above that. If a person does not have a roof over his head, food for his family or a voice in his country – it does not mean he is worth nothing, it just means his worth is not recognized enough.

And so the preamble continues… it is in recognition of this dignity and rights that we can build a peaceful and just society. It reduces the problems of the world and all the human rights abuses to - if you can see the humanity in the Other, then we will all be happy, well-fed and all that jazz.

Recognition of Humanity.

Last weekend for Socio 203 (Researching International Migration), in line with our discussion on refugees, our professor made the class watch Hotel Rwanda. I’ve watched this film more than ten times and have memorized the critical parts in which I should close my eyes or escape to the bathroom. That night, to take my mind off school and work, I got the first book I saw in the library “The Lord of the Flies”. Big mistake. I barely reached the middle when I figured out where it was leading to. Stress. It was “Life of Pi” all over again. The next day, CNN had “Scream Bloody Murder” – and of course Mikey and I watched. The whole weekend was like the antithesis of what we’re supposed to be celebrating today.

People seen as vermin, cockroaches or worms – brutally murdered because they are different. Closer to home, Patricia Evangelista has been writing about the political killings and the abuse that students, community workers and journalists have endured – not because they aren’t seen as human – but because they are stopping someone who wants to be superhuman.

The UDHR exposed what people have known all along – but have conveniently forgotten. Sixty years later, the world is a different place – no longer rocked by World War II but definitely unstable because of the financial crisis. One would think we’re better off, and perhaps in many ways we are, but I cannot help but wonder why we have failed to learn the simple lesson of recognizing the humanity of the other? Genocides happening in our lifetime – it’s just plain wild. Perhaps calloused by the gruesome images of war and hunger that are perpetually being shown on the news, people turn a blind eye. It’s somebody else’s life, somebody else’s problem. Human rights has once again become a domestic affair. My rights. My life. My freedom. If it does not encroach on my liberty, then we’re good.

Agh.

Freedom.

And this brings us to my last point – because I really should start doing statistics problems – I hate how human rights has become all about “me”. It has taken Isaiah Berlin’s “Freedom to” and Freedom from” way too seriously. When the UDHR was drafted, the concern of the bigwig states was really one of security – the “smaller” countries (Latin America and yes, the Philippines, represented by Carlos P. Romulo) made their voices heard and the concept of social justice was thrown in the ring. This obsession with we should be free to do whatever we want is a dangerous thing and counters the freedom which I believe is the true spirit behind the UDHR.

I believe that the inherent dignity that is talked about, and which is constantly being used and abused by people who want some piece of legislation passed, is really talking about freedom. What sets us apart from other living beings is this freedom and consciousness in everything that we do. There is this recognition of what is right and what is wrong and what we know is rightfully ours as people – and this is conveniently listed in the UDHR.

The UDHR is a morally binding document – and although I can pretend that it is because moral fiber ought to be stronger than mere legalities – I have to admit that it is because of practicality that our beloved document made it through with the votes. But I guess it is better that way (and well, we have our own national legislation supposedly keeping people in place or in jail). The UDHR with its beautifully articulated rights is really a painful reminder that Men, though free to choose to do what is right, have continued to choose otherwise. And to those who are disturbed – then good, you are not yet jaded by the happenings in our world. The next question is - what will you do with that moral burden?

Me – I will study for statistics.

Fiestang Kalag

2008-11-02T23:25:00.000-08:00

Summers in San Jose would be spent playing tong-its, joy rides on the back of the pick-up and trips to the waterfalls and the beach. It wouldn’t be complete though without the midnight trip to the cemetery. I clearly remember the first time we attempted to brave the resting grounds of the dead. Tim, Shane, Wapo and I walked the short distance from Tito Hadji’s house to the campo santo. Both boys had their champola sticks – just in case we met dogs along the way – and the girls were armed with flashlights. I can clearly imagine us sticking tightly together, as we marched towards the stone archway of the cemetery. Not even a minute inside the walls, we heard movement on the right inside the family compound. Both boys ran out, leaving me and Shane to defend ourselves against the ghosts of our lolos and lolas. It was actually a goat or a dog though. I forget.

Shane and I made our quick hellos and goodbyes to our beloved family, sending our prayers up in the fastest way possible and joined the boys outside on the street.

That wasn’t the last time we did that.

Another summer, we all loaded into a car and decided to do something a little more daring. We drove to the campo santo of the next town, Goa. This cemetery is much bigger than San Jose – so much bigger that you can bring your car in. And that’s what we did. Once inside the cemetery, Wapo shut off the engine and the lights. We were surrounded by darkness and the dead of Goa. These spirits were not used to the midnight visits of the crazy Obias-Monasterio-Patrocinio kids. In San Jose we consoled ourselves with the idea that our lolos and lolas were laughing at us from above, but in Goa there was no such consolation. The dead most probably did not find it cute.

One of my bright cousins decided to open the windows. Another cousin decided to throw the car keys out the window.

And that was the start of the end.

What seemed to be the longest 15 minutes of my life was spent in that car, in the middle of the cemetery of Goa. I don’t remember which brave soul went out to look for the car keys, but someone did. And eventually we got home safe and sound.

But my God, that was dumb.

That was the last of my midnight cemetery trips. I now only go to the cemetery in day light and for the “all-nighter” on November 1.

Last night was no different. First we paid our respects and said our prayers in the cemetery of Lagonoy. Lee’s assignment has always been to put a candle (and to pray the rosary. Hah!) for each Monserate lapida that he finds. So at around 4.30 that afternoon, he and Pao started making the rounds. Fiestang Gadan is what it is – a fiesta. So if you bring candles and flowers for the dead, you have food and drinks for the living. Yay for binanban and Coca-cola! The happy picnic-vibe with all the candles amongst the dead never seemed strange to me. But I can imagine how weirded out other cultures would be.

After mass, we would transfer to the San Jose cemetery where Lolo Tatay and the rest of the Obias/Monasterio/Torres/Patrocinio crew are laid to rest. Candles all over the place, Christmas lights and Halloween lanterns (if we can’t trick-or-treat in Manila, we bring the trick-or-treatin’ to SJ) around the mausoleums. More food, more kwentuhan and more photo opportunities with cousins you see once a year.

Strangely, the thought of ghosts hardly enter my mind during the Fiestang Gadan. The fear that sends shivers up my spine when we have our midnight trips is not felt at all.

Perhaps it is because we don't come to disturb, but to remember.

Joc Time

2008-10-28T04:39:00.000-07:00

Hard Ball was interrupted earlier to make way for the Breaking News.

A gentleman with silver hair, a leather jacket and glasses - looking slightly frazzled (dear God, with the crazy cameras and security and "security" all over him) - being pushed in a wheelchair has stopped the regular programming of ANC.

Jocjoc Bolante has arrived. Thinner and older, the former undersecretary of the Department of Agriculture is back on Philippine soil.

He has been accused of being the mastermind behind the Fertilizer Scam. Php728 Million at the very least stolen from the Filipino people.

Dude, he didn't just interrupt regular programming on ANC. He interrupted the development of our country.

-------

It still is not confirmed who Mr. Bolante is with at the moment. Ricky Carandang is following the ambulance he is in. I don't know if I was seeing things, but I think I saw familiar faces of the Senate security on tv. Sana sila nga.

An Open Letter to Joc Joc Bolante from Jun Lozada

2008-10-24T05:10:00.000-07:00

From http://blacknwhitemovement.blogspot.com/

--------------------------

Dear Joc-Joc,

Allow me to call you Joc-Joc as you are known in the media and by many Filipinos, too. As of this morning of the 24th of October 2008, news about your lawyer petitioning the Supreme Court to issue a Temporary Restraining Order (TRO) against the implementation of the arrest warrant issued by the Senate upon your arrival, hugs the headline of the major dailies together with the radio and TV news broadcast. The whole country seems to be anxiously awaiting your return, I am sure your family is also eager to see you back as well.

It is about your family that I am writing you, because of what my own family went through when I was in a similar situation that you are in now. Being a father myself, I know that the welfare and safety of your family are your foremost concerns in the middle of all the controversy and the uncertainty that you are facing.

There is so much fear right now that pervades your life along with your loved ones. Questions such as, how safe are you in Manila? Is there a possibility that someone may attempt to harm you or your family? How are the people that you are covering for going to help you? How are you going to answer questions from media? How can the people you are covering up be trusted with their dilatory tactics to get you off the hook, away from the prying questions of the opposition senators?

We’re caught up in all of these questions and an “us versus them” way of thinking, that we almost forget to ask the right questions anymore - right questions such as: how are my children hurt with the truth that I am generally perceived as a corrupt criminal by the Filipino nation? How are my children going to explain my involvement in this fertilizer scam to their friends? How is my wife going to face our friends and still be seen as a person with integrity? What legacy am I leaving my children? Is leaving them with millions and big houses in Ayala Alabang better than leaving them with a good name?

I am sharing these insights with you, because if there is one thing that I did regret in telling the truth about how this Arroyo administration has been stealing from the very people it is supposed to serve, it is that I was not able to prepare my wife and my children well enough against the backlash of this government’s wrath against me for telling the people about their crimes. You still have time to discern your next move, whether or not you are going to tell the people the truth about the fertilizer scam or bring the secret to your grave, just like Romy Neri.

As a father, I am asking you to please think about your children, please consider the legacy you are going to leave to them. Are you going to forever leave them as pariahs branded as children of a thief--or as children of someone who did wrong and yet chose to serve his country in the end, rather than to be a captive forever of the dark forces he used to serve? And, please prepare your family whatever way you may wish to choose. Discuss this together with them because at the end of it all, they will suffer or be affected more as a consequence of your decision.

Secondly, as a fellow Rotarian, how about taking the Four Way test as part of your discernment process? Is it the Truth? Is it fair to everyone concerned? Will it build goodwill and better friendship? Will it be beneficial to everyone concerned? You have been a good Rotarian for many good years of your life. Will you now turn your back on these ideals in the biggest test of your Rotarian values?

Lastly, let me share with you one of the most profound lessons I have learned in my own journey towards the truth, a truth not as a goal to be reached but rather as a way of life to be lived. I have found that the opposite of all the fears I am confronted with is not courage but faith. It is faith in a God who said, “I am the way, the truth and the life”, a just God who will judge us not in terms of the wealth we have on earth but in terms of what we did to our fellow human beings. It is my faith in this God that allowed me to face all the fears that I am confronted with when I decided to tell the truth that I know about the NBN-ZTE scam. May you find the faith to lead you to the Light of God’s love that no darkness can ever defeat, not even a President of the Republic of the Philippines.

May God bless you with the wisdom to choose your path.

(Signed)

Jun Lozada

WYA Hoodies For Sale!!!

2008-10-15T16:52:00.000-07:00

I found this on the WYA AP Multiply. Hahahaha! I love it. :-) And I love the models.

Kaya. [I am a Raya Fan]

2008-10-10T02:52:00.000-07:00

Most of my close friends know that my ultimate dream is to modify the curriculum of Sibika at Kultura (which I've heard has been changed into Makabayan). Something has to be done to tweak it so that our students can relate to it and not just memorize dates and names... Something that can make them proudly accept their history and heritage...Something that will allow them to live their lives knowing they are part of this greater community, this beautiful country.

You have your basic subjects like math, reading and science which are investments into their minds. They learn the skills, the theories and whatever else is needed to be productive, efficient people. And then you have Sibika or Makabayan or History (or whatever it is to be called) which is like investing into their hearts and souls... that they may use what they learn for the good of their family and their country. Because at an early age, their country will mean something to them. [Family is important - and I believe that it will always be a strength of the Filipino people. As most strengths are also weaknesses, I'd also like to think that somehow we can strike a balance and overcome this kinship challenge and expand our collective soul to embrace the rest of our Filipino brothers and sisters.]

I loved my cultural heritage classes with Dr. Zialcita. I love how he exposed us to places, practices, history and food with a "I love the Philippines" framework. He made us look, taste and experience things that were normal - and yet, somehow, they started to have more meaning. Quiapo. Ensaymada. Intramuros. Binagoongan. Sampaguita. Barong Tagalog. Pochero. Adobo. Arcades. Lambanog. Anting-anting. Fiestas. Tsinelas. We started to own them. We were proud of what we had and who we are as a people.

I want it to have that impact.

So... dream goal is the curriculum. The easier-to-reach goal is to teach Cultural Heritage in Poveda. I proposed it as an elective for the seniors but never got around to doing it. [It's still on my list of things to do before I die.]

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Because I'm the rookie at the office, I got to go on a fieldtrip with Julia (and Cedrik) and her Raya kids to the Aquino Center.

And that is how I heard about The Raya School. [CLARE! Are you reading this?!]

When Julia first mentioned she taught Citizenship at the school, I nodded my head thinking Cool! Citizenship! ... not once imagining it to be a preschool/gradeschool. Eventually, I found out I'd be hanging with adorable first and second graders. I searched for it online and fell in love with the philosophy behind the curriculum.

I told Teacher Ani earlier that when (if) I have children, I'd send them to Raya. :-)

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This is on one of the walls.

Kaya mong baguhin ang mundo.

It's so definitive. A message packed with hope and faith for change and it is read by tiny people everyday while they slide and run around and play.

At naniniwala ako na kaya nila.

I remembered Gabbie's post when I saw this.

I don't think the teachers put that up because they are young and idealistic. And I don't think their students believe in it because they are but babies who have yet to experience disappointment, pain and whatever hardships the world has to offer them.

From the little that I have seen (from the website and the fieldtrip and the school itself), you cannot help but notice the love the teachers have for their students and for the country. These are people who are serious about developing young Filipinos.

They are sure that their students (well, anyone who reads it actually) can make a difference. I guess it's not even a hope for change. It is somewhat stronger than hope - it's stated as a fact. Kasi kaya talaga - kung pipiliin mo ang landas na papuntang pagbabago. Pero yun yun eh. Pipiliin mo dapat.

Gab said:
I hope because I have been loved and have been hoped for. I hope because there is a tide that asks to be turned. And, quite simply, I hope because I choose to.

These children are obviously loved. Their teachers and parents see who they are and what they can become. The tide is turning. They hope and they love and this is manifested in the fact that they are molding the future the best they can. Into Filipinos, balanced, productive, creative. People with integrity that are aware of their roots. Knowing who they are, they cannot help but be proud of their identity. There is so much beauty in our country which is just hidden behind the chaotic political circus, poverty and the headlines that read "inner circle only". If we can see past the hazy screen and look deep into our heritage one cannot help but fall in love.

These kids are given that chance to peek behind the screen. Heck, they're allowed to go behind the screen and play. They are allowed to fall in love. And at the rate they're going, they will probably choose to stay in love. I have high hopes that they too won't be able to resist choosing the path that will change our country and the world.

Kilig!

2008-10-04T00:44:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, I woke up to the text of Fr. Dacanay.

Congratulations and thanks. You express the Christian sentiments of many others in their better days.

Kilig - I don't know which is more kilig - being published or the simple praise from Fr. Dacanay.

He had read my very first published piece on PDI's Youngblood. I was in Bicol then - and the newspapers arrive at about noon time (in Goa) and so I had to wait til lunch before I could see what my name looked like on the newspaper. Family halfway across the globe probably got to read it before I did (thanks to my internet-savy stage father).

Wah. It's kinda cool being in the newspaper. Hehe.

Inquirer Opinion / Columns

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20081002-164081/Shared-celebrations

Mana ako kay Gabgab. :-) She started the fad.
http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20080930-163684/Ang_ganda_ng_Pilipinas

More Than Luck

2008-09-27T00:53:00.000-07:00

Found this in an old notebook. I believe it's from some Jesuit compilation - and this quote is from Fr. Jojo Magadia, SJ.

Somewhat timely.

So what is luck? What is fortune? What is that which leads to luck or fortune? Fortune happens, luck happens when, in the ups and downs of life, in the tide of the affairs of men, the wiser ones learn to take things at the flood, at the opportune point, at that point when the wind blows best, at the point when opportunity best presents itself.

Luck is not what arbitrarily happens or doesn't happen to you. Luck is that which takes places when opportunity meets preparedness.

But I feel lucky. I feel like things are slowly falling into place - not that things were messed up before. Perhaps I just feel like I am going in the right direction. It's a comforting thought though... to believe that it wasn't mere luck that got me to wherever it is I am. Having a bit more faith in myself and much more faith in my God makes it seem like I deserve to be here. It's nice. Then again, we all deserve to be in a good place.

Good things are happening.

For starters, we won the championship. :-)

Then I got my Ninoy band. [Thank you, Mai!]

Family time is fun time. And I have been blessed to have a lot of that lately.

And a lot of me time. Yay for San Jose and the silence that just screams insanely at seven in the evening (because, yes, the town is asleep by then) - giving me much time to discern, to pray and to just be. I've got one more week of that coming up. And I am looking forward to it. :-)

Sana tuloy tuloy siya. Praying for positive results from UP. I want to be an iskolar ng bayan. I really do. But I'll be patient. I will wait.

I am happy. :-) The post-quarter of a century chapter of my life is starting off with an interesting spin.

Delicadeza

2008-09-04T13:00:00.000-07:00

“San Jose Forever!” That is what my Tito Ato would shout out whenever he’d see me. According to him, I’m a die-hard San Jose fan – someone who would give up everything for that little town in Partido, Camarines Sur. Every summer, I would look forward to going to the province and visiting San Jose. My cousins and I would spend the evenings on the beach, in the orchards or in the farm and just appreciate the peace and quiet away from the city. I have so many wonderful memories there and have learned to love it for what it is to the people living there and the history it carries.

What I love the most about the town is how deeply it is linked to my family. Or maybe it’s the other way around – the more I knew, the more I fell in love with the place where I found my roots.

I have grown up thinking that everyone in our little town is family. When I walk around, the people recognize me as the granddaughter of my Lolo Tatay. I was very proud (perhaps too proud at times).The summer before my junior year in high school, I found myself in the municipal library (which could have been a bodega) and found a bunch of papers containing the history of San Jose. Together with the stories I heard from the older generations, I started to put together my own version of the history of the town.

Way back in 1801, the town of San Jose was but a barrio of El Pueblo de Lagonoy – which is presently the municipality if one continues to go east. The little barrio was recognized under the name of Danlog (which is now the name of one of the barrios of San Jose). At that time El Pueblo de Lagonoy was under the rule of a Spanish (my guess is he was an insulares) priest, Reverend Padre Salvador Mendoza. His jurisdiction was over Lagonoy and all of the surrounding barrios. Salvador Mendoza would constantly go to Danlog with his faithful church dignitaries because he was planning on building a church there. The place he selected for the site was called “Cabayawasnan”. Unfortunately, an ilustrado named Laurenciano Barcillano owned the land. He refused to donate the lot to the church. Through circumstances that were beyond his control, ownership of the coveted land passed from him to the church.

At that time, there were only around 30 households in Danlog. Manpower for the construction of the church was low so the priest asked help from the people of Lagonoy. According to the papers found in the municipal hall, the priest assigned the natives of Lagonoy to finance and work the northern half of the church while the other half was assigned to the natives of Danlog and all the neighboring sitios. This information could have been exaggerated though because of the common misconception that the Spanish always exploited the Filipinos, forcing them to work without pay – and in this case, funding the whole project.

The rise of the church in that area initiated the making of the little barrio into a town. In the year 1813, the town was officially established under the name of Patrocinio and was later on changed to San Jose, which is the present name of this town. Its founders were Father Salvador Mendoza, the parish priest of El Pueblo de Lagonoy and Don Macario Agustin, first Captain Municipal of this town.

Honestly, this little piece of history was not what got my attention. What was not mentioned in the municipality’s records is that Padre Mendoza did not only establish the town, but my family as well. Somehow, he must have gotten himself a pretty Bicolana and had two sons. This was not exactly a big surprise since Noli Me Tangere taught me that things like this happen.

Counting from Salvador Mendoza as the first generation, I am part of the 8th generation. I was able to make this connection with the help of the notebooks of my grandaunt, Dra. Nita Obias, and my grandfather, Edmundo Obias (one kept nicely with my Lola, the other hidden between medical books). In the notebooks were names of our ancestors and the relation they had to each other. Some connections were quite vague though – not mentioning whether Padre Mendoza was the actual father of these two boys. The priest’s name was just placed directly above the boys with the name of their mother in parenthesis. According to more open-minded older generations, they admitted that they were the parents of the two boys – in fact, they carried Padre Mendoza’s last name. According to family records, they changed their surnames in 1836 – the first year the boys got themselves involved in politics.

The two boys were Don Benigno Mendoza and Don Agapito Mendoza. Their names appear several times in the municipal hall’s list of people who held leading official positions in the community. My immediate family comes directly from Don Benigno Mendoza. He married Josefa Ramirez (a surname that, to this date belongs to another large family in the area). They had eight children (the third generation) – including Francisco Mendoza my great, great, great grandfather. He married Leocadia Pacis and had ten children. This is where my family starts getting quite complicated. I won’t go into details – because with each name goes an incredible story. But somewhere along the line my grandparents appear.

Each family has a tale to tell – after several years, they are either highly exaggerated or very highly censored. After several generations, and admittedly, being born into a social-economic status that was educated, pampered and landed, there was a trend in the names of those in local government. There was a trend in the names of the little businesses. There was a trend in the areas that houses were located. For better or for worse – these names made an imprint on San Jose and on my life.

Undeniably, there are so many things that our family has to be proud of. But like any gossip, the hidden stories are what caught my eye. Apparently, there were many things kept from the generation of my mother.

As I continued my research, each summer discovering something new (and most of the time, more exciting), I would always think of Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo or the novels of F. Sionil Jose. You have the Spanish Friar, the insulares, the natives, the mestizos, the ilustrados, and similar ways of life. Of course, not everything I found out about my family was good, but then again not everything that happened in those novels were good either.

I finally finished my article – a piece I had put so much into. I wanted everyone to know about my little town and my great family. So, with the advent of electronic mail, I sent copies to my aunts, uncles and grandparents, thinking they would be proud of me for putting so much effort in finding out all about my roots.

I got some positive feedback from some very supportive relatives, but I also got into a little bit of trouble. I had spilled the family secret: we are descendants of Spanish priests!

I was told that it was “Nothing to be proud of!” “Nakakahiya”.

Of course I was crushed. I had given so much of myself in that project – in fact, I can say that I found myself in that project. I admit that it wasn’t exactly the best news, but it was the truth. It was a fact that we came from a priest, so why make such a big deal out of it? I’m sure we aren’t the only ones who are of holy descent in this country (or the rest of the colonized world).

It was never my purpose to put the family to shame or make anyone feel uncomfortable when I wrote it. I just wanted the rest of my family, especially the younger generations, to become more aware of the family’s history and hopefully, appreciate it more.

“But you should have a bit more delicadeza!”

Delicadeza? What for? I should think that in this day and age, that people should be more open-minded when it comes to these issues. I understand how delicadeza is important in many aspects of keeping the peace, propriety and political correctness – but when it comes to our shared history – as a family, and even as a nation, is it wrong for us to talk about the these parts of our lives?

I don’t understand why we should be ashamed of the indiscreetness of our great-great-great-great-great grandfather. For one thing, it happened so long ago - and it is not our fault that any of that happened. In fact, we should be thankful, for without that we would definitely not be here right now. I’m quite proud of having a priest (actually 2) in my family tree. It makes me feel like I (or at least my family) have been involved personally in history.

Sometimes when we block away what we feel are evil pasts, it creates an unhealthy feeling of shame. There is all this focus on our dark Spanish past that we tend to forget the wonderful things that we did receive from our colonizers. There is always this tendency to blame our “awful” past. Making it difficult for us to recognize whatever it is we are capable of doing to move forward. We tend to forget that Filipino culture, Filipino identity – is really everything that has become of us because of our past and the choices that we continue to make. It is in knowing and accepting what has happened that we can understand how to make things better for our town and our country.

When it comes to our personal and even family history – the collective memories that bind us together give us this sense of belonging. In knowing our roots, we learn about those that came before us – what they have gone through, what they lived for and what they died for.

This is as close to history as I can get… and I like it… I like knowing that I came from a people who played a part in the molding of a town. I came from a family that has made a difference and continues to make a difference. The more I know, the more I love – as is the case with most things and people.

I post this challenge to the Filipino Youth – find out more about your roots, where you are from. And let’s see if you don’t fall in love with your hometown. Let’s see if you don’t fall in love with the Philippines.

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This article was posted on the YTRIP website (Thankyou Clare!). The article can be found here with other excellent write-ups!

I believe.

2008-08-23T19:54:00.000-07:00

I saw Jun Lozada at mass this morning. He was seated at the far end of the chapel and one of the last to receive communion.

I very much wanted to approach him. Shake his hand. And say I believe you.

But I didn't. I'm a booger like that. Next time though, I will.

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I also saw a die-hard La Sallista tito at mass. Can you taste the championship? I smiled. Don't wear your [Ateneo] jacket this season. I smiled again.

I also wanted to tell him... I believe.

The Filipino is Worth Dying For [Ninoy Aquino]

2008-08-20T03:45:00.000-07:00

My love affair with the Philippines started quite early on. Lolo Tatay made sure I knew who Rizal was. He made sure I knew my history as a Filipino. He made sure I knew that I am a Filipino. He could see identity issues coming up in the future, I guess.

I am Pinoy... and with a play of words and letters, we start seeing iamninoy. I don't know which group started it - was it AYLC? I did see Bam Aquino on YSpeak talk about the conference/movement as well.

Well, whoever thought of it has gotten me thinking. I am Pinoy. What does that mean? I am Ninoy. To be like him? To die for my country? Perhaps not in the same sense.

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Here are some excerpts from the speech delivered by Sen. Benigno S. Aquino, Jr. before the Asia Society in New York, 4 August 1980. Mai posted it on her blog the other day. Thank you, Mai! I will claim my baller band soon!

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I have spent almost eight long and lonely years in military confinement. The problem of Martial Rule and its injustices have nagged me all these years.

During those eight years, I learned the true meaning of humiliation of courage, of hunger and endless anxiety. Rather than be bitter I have learned to accept my suffering as a cleansing process and a rare opportunity to really grapple with the problems of the Filipino.

I have asked myself many times: Is the Filipino worth suffering, or even dying, for? Is he not a coward who would readily yield to any colonizer, be he foreign or home-grown? Is a Filipino more comfortable under an authoritarian leader because he does not want to be burdened with the freedom of choice? Is he unprepared or, worse, ill-suited for presidential or parliamentary democracy?

I have carefully weighed the virtues and the faults of the Filipino and I have come to the conclusion that he is worth dying for because he is the nation’s greatest untapped resource.

He is not a coward. He values life and he tends to give his leader the maximum benefit of the doubt. Given a good leader, because he is a good follower, the Filipino can attain great heights.

It would seem that he is more comfortable in being told to do than to think for himself. But this is only a superficial impression because deep down in his being, he loves freedom but puts the highest premium on human life and human dignity. Hence, he would try to adapt till his patience runs out.

Is the Filipino prepared for democracy? Definitely. Even before the arrival of the Spanish Conquistador, he had already practiced participatory democracy in his barangay. He values his freedom, but because he values human life more, he will not easily take up arms and would rather wait till his patience runs out.

Yes, I have gained valuable insights in prison and like an average Filipino, I would like to tell Mr. Marcos this:

I can forgive you for what you have done to me over the last eight years because this I can do, but I can never forgive you for depriving our people of their freedom because it not mine to forgive.

I have waited patiently for you to restore the democracy you took away from us on that night of September 21, 1972. Like the average Filipino, please do not mistake my patience for docility, my conciliatory demeanor for cowardice and lack of will.

I have chosen to suffer long years of solitary confinement rather than urge my followers to put our country to the torch because, like the average Filipino, I put the highest value on human life. And I dread the weeping of mothers whose sons will surely be sacrificed at the altar of revolution. But please do not misinterpret this conduct for timidity and subservience.

I have faced death a couple of times in prison. In 1975, I went on a hunger strike for forty days and forty nights and I was near death when your jailers rushed me to the Veterans Hospital.

I faced death in your detention camp when your army doctors diagnosed my heart ailment as mere muscle spasm, only to be told by doctors in the United States that I could have died from the heart attacks while I was languishing in your jail.

Mr. Marcos: Please believe me when I tell you that, like the average Filipino, I will again willingly face death in a freedom struggle if you will not heed the voice of conscience and moderation.

You were a soldier once, and you have repeatedly said, many times, it is an honor to die for one’s country and for one’s freedom.

I hope you will now believe in what you preach and I pray that you shall at last desist from further trying the patience and resolve of your countrymen.

Mr. Marcos: Give us back our freedom or suffer the consequences of your arrogance.

The Sacrament of Waiting [Fr. James Donelan, S.J.]

2008-08-09T07:44:00.000-07:00

I first read this on Jessica's multiply a few weeks ago. I'd go back every so often to read it again (and again) - perhaps because I find comfort in the thought that there is value in waiting.
Waiting is not as passive as I thought. The value of waiting is just like the value of the journey (aah. happy memories of our little pilgrimage come flying back again.) - just a bit more difficult to appreciate since it requires much more faith in knowing that whatever it is will come.

Thanks for posting this Jess!!! :-)

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The Sacrament of Waiting
by Fr. James Donelan, S.J.

The English poet John Milton once wrote that those who serve stand and wait. I think I would go further and say that those who wait render the highest form of service. Waiting requires more discipline, more self-control and emotional maturity, more unshakeable faith in our cause, more unwavering hope in the future, more sustaining love in our hearts than all the great deeds of derring-do that go by the name of action.

Waiting is a mystery—a natural sacrament of life. There is a meaning hidden in all the times we have to wait. It must be an important mystery because there is so much waiting in our lives.

Everyday is filled with those little moments of waiting—testing our patience and our nerves, schooling us in our self-control—pasensya na lang. We wait for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a friend, concerts and circuses. Our airline terminals, railway stations, and bus depots are temples of waiting filled with men and women who wait in joy for the arrival of a loved one—or wait in sadness to say goodbye and to give that last wave of hand. We wait for birthdays and vacations; we wait for Christmas. We wait for spring to come or autumn—for the rains to begin or stop.

And we wait for ourselves to grow from childhood to maturity. We wait for those inner voices that tell us when we are ready for the next step. We wait for graduation, for our first job, our first promotion. We wait for success, and recognition. We wait to grow up—to reach the stage where we make our own decision.

We cannot remove this waiting from our lives. It is part of the tapestry of living—the fabric in which the threads are woven that tell the story of our lives.

Yet the current philosophies would have us forget the need to wait. “Grab all the gusto you can get.” So reads one of America’s great beer advertisements—Get it now. Instant pleasure—instant transcendence. Don’t wait for anything. Life is short—eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you’ll die. And so they rationalize us into accepting unlicensed and irresponsible freedom—premarital sex and extramarital affairs—they warn against attachment and commitment, against expecting anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect anything of us, against vows and promises, against duty and responsibility, against dropping any anchors in the currents of our life that will cause us to hold and to wait.

This may be the correct prescription for pleasure—but even that is fleeting and doubtful. What was it Shakespeare said about the mad pursuit of pleasure? “Past reason hunted, and once had, past reason hated.” Now if we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well as flesh, souls as well as heart, we have to learn to love someone else other than ourselves.

For most of all waiting means waiting for someone else. It is a mystery brushing by our face everyday like stray wind or a leaf falling from a tree. Anyone who has ever loved knows how much waiting goes into it, how much waiting is important for love to grow, to flourish through a lifetime.

Why is this so? Why can’t we have love right now—two years, three years, five years—and seemingly waste so much time? You might as well ask why a tree should take so long to bear fruit, the seed to flower, carbon to change into a diamond.

There is no simple answer, no more than there is to life’s demands: having to say goodbye to someone you love because either you or they have already made other commitments, or because they have to grow and find the meaning of their own lives, having yourself to leave home and loved ones to find your path. Goodbyes, like waiting, are also sacraments of our lives.

All we know is that growth—the budding, the flowering of love needs patient waiting. We have to give each other time to grow. There is no way we can make someone else truly love us or we love them, except through time. So we give each other that mysterious gift of waiting—of being present without making demands or asking rewards. There is nothing harder to do than this. It tests the depth and sincerity of our love. But there is life in the gift we give.

So lovers wait for each other until they can see things the same way, or let each other freely see things in quite different ways. What do we lose when lovers hurt each other and cannot regain the balance and intimacy of the way they were? They have to wait—in silence—but still be present to each other until the pain subsides to an ache and then only a memory, and the threads of the tapestry can be woven together again in a single love story.

What do we lose when we refuse to wait? When we try to find short cuts through life, when we try to incubate love and rush blindly and foolishly into a commitment we are neither mature nor responsible enough to assume? We lose the hope of ever truly loving or being loved. Think of all the great love stories of history and literature. Isn’t it of their very essence that they are filled with the strange but common mystery—that waiting is part of the substance, the basic fabric—against which the story of that true love is written?

How can we ever find either life or love if we are too impatient to wait for it?

Message to My People - Manuel L. Quezon

2008-07-25T01:01:00.000-07:00

According to Ky:
It was a speech given by Manuel Quezon back in 1916. It was in the Pilipinas Heritage Library and I was able to get a copy because we were part of their Bravo Filipino shows. I think everyone should be given the chance to hear it...

And because I totally agree with Kylapot, I will share it with my own network. Thanks for sharing this, Ky! :-)

Pilgrimage Down Under

2008-07-25T00:53:00.000-07:00

World Youth Day 2008 has come to an end and Sydney is starting to look like it's normal, secular self once again (of course, I'm assuming that this is normal - with less people on the trains, no more road blocks and no more large groups singing to their Catholic God with guitars, maracas and tambourines).

As a huge international event, I have to say Sydney did an awesome job preparing for World Youth Day. The logistical preparations were just amazing - from the transportation, to the directions at each corner, the wonderful volunteers, the food and food stops, the kits and all the venues for all the events.

As a pilgrimage, WYD was even more amazing. I mean, my experience in Koln was great - but totally different. It was fun and exciting - it had the same spirit, the same spiritual high - but I don't think it had the same spiritual depth (for me). I think I came to Sydney a little bit more prepared. Perhaps even a little bit more mature. Perhaps it also had to do with the theme of this year's WYD - since it's something I feel I can relate to more.

Whatever it was - this time it was different. This time I felt like a pilgrim.

Mike asked Ren if we could process our experiences in the evenings - putting together whatever happened to us that day/week and breaking them down so that we could appreciate everything better. And so several questions came up...

What is a pilgrimage? Why are we here?

We all had our reasons for being there - for most it was a great opportunity to travel, for half it was to promote the World Youth Alliance, for others it was a way to strengthen their faith. I'd like to think that all of the above were achieved on one level or another. We traveled for sure - and not just as tourists, but as pilgrims. People on a journey - from wherever home was in the world to Sydney, Australia. People on a journey of faith - with a deep desire to experience God with other young people from all over the world. It is incredibly encouraging to see other people totally wear their faith on their sleeves - not at all ashamed that they believe in something/someone greater than themselves that they cannot even explain.

Tinanong kami ni Mike - Who is the Holy Spirit to you? Nyak. Sino nga ba? In the Trinity, I think the Holy Spirit is the one I take for granted the most. Or perhaps the hardest for me to comprehend - since he is the least visible [I mean, God the Father has this Zeus-like image (yes, how pagan of me) and then Jesus Christ is like... well, Jesus]. Then Renren goes - the Holy Spirit is the one always with us...the one that moves us, inspires us.

You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses. (Acts 1:8).

In grade school and high school (and perhaps until college), whenever Dad would drop us off at school - he'd go "Pray to the Holy Spirit!"... and the boys and I would laugh (not because the message was funny, but because he always would say it and we'd always expect it). It never really sunk in. At least not until now.

We pray. We receive the power, the fire, the inspiration, the grace.

The grace to be His witnesses. To live. To say Yes and jump into the journey - our own personal pilgrimage with the Lord - a pilgrimage that goes beyond World Youth Day and beyond Sydney.

Come Fourth.

2008-07-08T03:13:00.000-07:00

If we aren't measuring our age by year, we start measuring it by occassion - junior prom, graduation ball, college, debut, college, college graduation, first job, second job, third job/promotion - then comes marriage. And we all know how exciting weddings and proposals are. Among my friends - I think we have gotten to the point of promotions, proposals and moving-ons (work, country, relationships).

There is one stage that we are slowly venturing into: Parenthood.

Okay - not me. But friends and family who are somewhat around my age.

There is Ignacio, my inaanak, who is turning two this year! He is bubbly baby boy that looks just like his mother (with cleaner feet). Yesterday, I received photos of a beautiful baby girl - Jayla Marie. Born about a week ago in California. Melissa, the proud momma, looked just as beautiful - not at all like she had given birth.

On the other side of the Pacific, Itin is carrying Baby Emilio. :-)

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I mean, I knew I was up for an adventure down under with World Youth Day and all the WYA talks that we'll be having - but I did not expect to be part of this one.

Itin and Third were expecting to have Baby Emilio end of August. Looks like he'll be coming out a bit sooner - na-excite siya kasi may bisita [me!!!]. I can't think of cooler parents [aside from my own - hi mom! hi dad!].

I was chatting with Ann earlier - and somewhere in the conversation she goes They are an amazing couple. And she was so right.

I met them when I was about to enter college. They were both there when I went through my Days with the Lord. They were most probably there during my debut. And after graduation, 3 jobs and many other interesting, growing-up moments - I find myself in their lovely home in Sydney, Australia. This is a home brought together by their own story - college, friendship, love, long distance (Padeeee!), long distance again (oi oi oi!), leading to marriage and now a baby.

I am so excited. :-D

I want very much to go visit - but limited guests are allowed. That would make sense. The doctors and nurses here would probably go nuts in our hospitals back home. First hour checked into the hospital and the whole barangay is already there - with mamon and ensaymada. Hehe. But it's probably better that way - more time and space for the patients to rest. Less noise, bacteria and cause for stress.

But yes, I am sooo excited! :-)

Several people have asked if the Baby could be called Fourth. Personally, I like Speedy (since their last name is Gonzales). 'Specially since nagmamadali nga yung bata.

I know everyone back home is excited as well! I've been blessed as it is to be welcomed into their home - little did I know I'd be showered with more blessings and this opportunity to welcome Emilio into his own home (if he decides to come out during the mass of the Pope, I'd probably still run to the station and ditch the Sto. Papa for the baby).

Love and prayers to Itin and Third (who is actually on his way home with chicken and gravy). YAAAAY! :-)

Milk for Itin. :-)

2008-07-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

For some strange reason, multiply won't allow me to post this particular photo.

I felt like it was important to post Itin's plate from last night. :-) Her lamb, mashed potato (which she made from scratch) and corn. Plus - her milk! YAY! For her and Emilio.

We were considering placing her milk in the fancy wine glasses that were brought out for the bottle of Penfold's that their friend gave (a thank you gift - given because they are wonderful people). But opted for the mug that matched the plates.

Tonight we have something just as exciting! I'll be posting photos again soon.

In the Process of...

2008-07-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

The internet is used for research. It is the quick and easy way to finding answers to assignments, and is the source of “all knowledge” [Mabuhay ang Wikipedia!]. It has become the main tool for communication as well – email, instant messaging, vpns and intranets. It has become the new ocean that pirates cross to find their loot. And it has become the venue for making friends (asl?), making chismis and well finding old friends and family! It has allowed a different kind of networking to take place – Friendster, Facebook, Multiply, My Space and whatever else there may be. I know a lot of people who are wary of all those online networking sites. They are such distractions - you can spend hours just jumping from one person to the next – the ultimate usi[sero] machine, looking at the photos, journal entries and testimonials of friends, friends of friends and people who they want to befriend. It’s the new way of stalking. And it’s my guilty pleasure (Okay, maybe I don’t feel that guilty).

Recently, I received a pleasant email from one of my cousins – Ahia Mike Yu (Cuyegkeng side of the family). It was the type of email that just flies in from nowhere, at just the right time, with just the right message.

Wow. You've grown into a mature young lady. Great job growing up, Tamara!

That was shock number one. I’m mature?!? Wow. This cousin of mine has truly been away for awhile. I am at the classic age of 25, quarter of a century, struggling to grow up and keep up with the times. Where did he get this wild idea?

As all serendipitous discoveries go on the internet, I was researching on the Web (read: wasting time on Facebook), happened to invite Cindy and Carlo Marcelo to my friends list, saw your name, and said to myself, "Noooooooo. Tamara? Isn't she the 3 or 4 year old kid of Tita Primie whom we visited in the US in 1986? She can't have a Facebook account yet."

Aha! He found me on Facebook. My profile picture was definitely not one of a four year old – so yes, I have grown much since his last memory of me.

But I'm rambling. What I wanted to say from the beginning is: I read most of your blog entries, and couldn't stop.

Uh oh. What have I written over the past four years?

…we went through pretty much the same things growing up, too! Kudos on your "A" paper with Fr. Dacanay. Makes me wonder where I put my own "A" paper for his 131 class. And for me, Leland dela Cruz wasn't a thesis adviser. He was an org mate in ACLC (now you have an idea just how old I am!). J

I have to say, I should've seen this coming with you. WYA volunteer, forwarded messages from Gus Rodriguez about Ateneo education (he was my teacher too…can you sense the excitement here?)…

A wave of sentimentality took over. There is just something in hearing how someone older and wiser says that they’ve gone through the same thing. In a way, it’s affirming that they understand. I started feeling nice and warm inside – this was the most affirmative letter I have ever received. Among all the mistakes and failures, it made me think, I must be on the right path.

I think you'll get a kick out of the story I'm about to tell you.

As I said, when I visited the US in 1986, I had just graduated from 7^th grade (Xavier, of course). You were a cute little girl with curly hair (well, I remember the hair being curly…I hope my memory hasn't slipped too much). And I will never, ever forget the time we were in the car, travelling one of those non-descript US highways that have numbers for names, and out of the blue while staring out into the sunset, you ask Tita Primi, "Mom, why did Jesus have to die on the cross?"

WHAT!?!

Okay, It’s only now, reading this letter for the nth time that I can roll my eyes and say “What was I thinking!? What kind of kid was I? Who asks those sorts of questions?”

But honestly, when I read it the first time – medyo kinilabutan ako. Because really – how do you answer a question like that?

There was a moment of silence, and then your Mom says, "Tamara always asks questions like that!" and then proceeded with the textbook catechism answer of having to save us from our sins, etc., etc.

I don't know if that answer satisfied your curiosity at the tender age of 4 or not, but after writing that lengthy introduction, let me get back to my original intent of writing this email to you: reading your blog, and seeing how you've grown, I think that after more than 20 years of living, you pretty much know the answer to the question.

Bigat.

And I hope you keep on living out the answer…

Mas mabigat.

This started a string of emails between me and Ahia Mike. Funny how he seemed to know me so well – through my blog. [Okay, I know – if it weren’t Ahia Mike and it was some random sketchy person then I’d be weirded out and wouldn’t find it too funny or amazing].

It forced me to look at my life – the decisions I have made, the places I’ve been. It made me actually read through my blog again. It forced me to try to answer the question I apparently had asked some 21 years ago – and well, continue answering it the best I can. But my God – the more I thought about it, the more complicated and difficult it seemed to become.

…who said it would be easy? And it's never completely answered till the day we all move on. We just have to do the best we can with whatever we're equipped with at the time, right? I haven't forgotten my Ph classes: we'll never grasp the totality of Him since we're finite, but to touch even a little bit of what He represents is worth it. It seems like you've found the little piece that fits for you, so embrace it!

Facebook helped Ahia Mike find me. But really, it helped me find myself as well.

Thanks for finding me, Ahia Mike! :-) See you soon!

Fr. Bogey: LA Law

2008-07-03T17:31:00.000-07:00

I receive regular text messages from Fr. Bogey on a weekly basis. He always ends it with LA LAW.

Love Always.Love All Ways. - LA LAW

Being the booboo that I am, I used to think that it was a line from LA Law (Ang galing naman ng LA Law). Hehehe. Eventually, I realized it was the LA LAW. I only figured that out when there were longer quotes - and then it just ended with LA LAW.

Man, I'm so dumb.

I used to write down the messages in my planner or notebook (whichever was available), but keeping them here may be wiser and more accessible (to me and to others).

---------------
Today's message from Father Bogey

When I am secure in Christ, I can afford to take a risk in my life. Only the insecure cannot afford to risk failure. The secure can admit failure, seek help and try again.

Thank You, WYA! :-)

2008-06-17T16:40:00.000-07:00

To the people who have rocked my world (youth alliance),

In exactly two weeks, a beautiful young lady, named Desiree Go will be the Regional Director of Operations of WYA Asia Pacific. And I will officially join the World Mature Alliance. :-)

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you for everything. There is much to say - and I am hoping to squish it all in this email (blog). :-)

Working with such bright and passionate people from around the world has been such an amazing experience. I spent the last three and a half years meeting such exceptional young people through the trainings, the activities and whatever else it is that we do to make WYA run.

As fun, exciting and wonderful as it was – it was also the most humbling experience of my life. To be honest, when I first started working fulltime with WYA, I felt like the most incompetent person in the world (youth alliance). There was a lot to learn and there was a ton to do. For someone who was used to being good at what she does, getting things done on time and doing it with ease and confidence, the job was my ego's worst nightmare. There were many things that I learned from WYA – how to articulate what the dignity of the person is about, how to deal with different kinds of people, how to speed read and how to boil water (yes, I learned that in New York). But the most important thing I learned from WYA was the virtue of humility.

Really – if one looks at the roster of staff and alumni, one cannot help but be in awe of the accomplishments of those that have come before her. Going through training sets 1 to 4 wasn't exactly a picnic either. Facing Anna and saying "May I have an extension please?" was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. When your goal is to impact policy and culture – when the issues that you face are poverty and war – it becomes very difficult to measure success. Talking about dignity and empowering young people to believe in themselves and what they can do was always fulfilling – but when the same child approaches you (for three years) and asks for money everyday as you step out of your office, it makes you question how far you've really gone and what it is you are actually accomplishing.

Being able to accept that we cannot change the world overnight, being able to accept that we cannot do everything on our TO DO list, being able to say "I tried my best, and I will continue trying" has taught me much. It was humbling in the sense that I learned how to ask for help, for forgiveness and to see the world through the eyes of those from a different region, culture or faith.

Watching the members that I train with grow has been the most fulfilling part of my stay at WYA. Listening to these members passionately discuss the readings, the current state of the world or their personal lives and linking it to their humanity, development or this idea of dignity always leaves me with something new to reflect on. It is amazing to watch them grow and mature as they articulate these ideas and lead projects of their own. And again, I am humbled at how good they are, seeing that they have become wiser and more responsible than me.

Not too long ago, in some random bar in New York City, Monsignor Ruben Dimaculangan encouraged me to take the post. I didn't think I was prepared. He looked at me with a face that seemed to say Do you think you will ever be prepared? Then he smiled and said – Grow where you are planted. You will learn and you will grow. And like I said, I believe I did grow in many ways (including horizontally). The small victories and successes that we had as an organization made my heart soar with pride. The personal accomplishments were just as fulfilling. I'd like to think that as I grew, the organization grew as well.

What attracts many people to WYA is the fact that we are young and dynamic – always moving, growing and passionate. It is our strength – something we should learn to hone and take advantage of. The training, the professionalism and the management – these skills are what we hope to pass on to the other WYA members that will be next in line – because I am sure they will use these tools in ways we can't even begin to imagine.

AP is going to experience its second turnover of staff – from me to Des. Desiree is one of the most charming, competent, passionate young ladies I have ever met. There are many things that she is capable of doing and many things I know she is capable of learning. I am excited for her to grow in her position, to love the job the same way I did. She has fallen head over heels in love with WYA – the cause and the projects and the people. I guess it is because our work is not just work – but a huge part of our lives.

Sometimes, I look back and think – am I ready to leave? I have a few mores years before I reach thirty and I know there is much more that I can offer, and much more than I can learn. Again, it is with much humility, that I see how the young ones around me have so much more to offer, that they have what it takes to move the organization to places we can only dream of, and that they deserve the chance to make it happen. They are the same ones who push me to grow as well, to move beyond what has become my comfort zone.

It is with a happy and hopeful heart that I quote Dag Hammarskjold - For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes.

On Weddings and Marriage

2008-06-14T00:59:00.000-07:00

27 years ago today, Leo and Primie expressed their love in the presence of their God, their family and their friends in the sacrament of holy matrimony. A beautiful couple - in the midst of the people they love, sampaguitas and a crazy typhoon (which was apparently raging outside) - made a committment to each other to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish and everything else.

I used to watch their wedding video (betamax) over and over - my parents much younger, slimmer, more hair for dad, shorter hair for mom. I could easily identify my grandparents, the Tan aunts and uncles and the Obias titas and titos. I saw some of my cousins and other family friends...But for the life of me, I could not understand why I wasn't in the video. I couldn't understand why I was not invited to this special occasion. They had everything but me (okay, and my brothers too - but I didn't really care about that now, did i?)... a cake, and that bell with doves, food, pretty dresses, barongs and other things that gave it a very 70s/early 80s feel.

I don't know if it's from watching that video too many times, or if it's from the stories my parents love to tell (they looooooooooooove sharing their love story - from start to wedding and it can go on to the present day) - but in my head it was a perfect wedding (yes, the typhoon added to the perfectness to the wedding). Quite impressive for a couple that got together a year before, and organized it from the States.

The beauty of the wedding though went beyond that day and can be seen and felt in the marriage that they have. I can attest to that since I've been around throughout most of their married life. Obviously, it cannot be a perfect marriage - but it is a beautiful one in which I can truly see them continuously growing together, still learning about themselves, their children and the world.

I think one of the best things about their marriage (after their children) is the laughter that has come with it. They find each other funny and amusing. How many people do you know call their husband/wife Tongs (short for tongay [which is booger in Bicol] and tongee [engeng])?

Today, the parents are out of town. They celebrated their wedding anniversary in San Jose to attend the ordination of Manoy Jonel. According to Fr. Aba, he would like the folks to renew their vows there at the church. :-) Cute-on.

-----------

Several days ago, Julian gives me a call "Pinky - I need Fr. Dacanay's number!"... He sounded serious. I was not expecting that call, or the news that was to come with it. Julian proposed to Marion that night - major production number pa. He passed the phone to Marion who shares the details of the proposal, with me interupting by saying OHMYGOD every so often.

We were all classmates in Fr. Dacanay's Theo 131 class. Nice. If I had my way, I'd like to marry a boy who took Fr. Dacanay's class (and listened and understood that true love is a choice...that after the fireworks fade away, then true love begins and all of that).

After we talk, I send Julian the number and he replies:
Thanks, Pinx. Matindi to.

Matindi nga.

------

I am so excited for Mar and Juls! :-) And in a funny way, I'm excited for my parents too!

Another Birthday Message

2008-06-11T23:43:00.000-07:00

Last week, Mr. Manalo asked me if I wasn't the slightest bit annoyed that there would be work on June 12 and that the non-working holiday would be June 9 instead. I don't think I was as ticked off as he thought I would be - in fact, I think he is much more affected than I am (as seen in his two birthday posts). But yes, I am quite bothered.

True, one cannot take away the value or the spirit of what we celebrate today - but the fact that one of our deepest problems is identity and the recognition of such a spirit - there is a need to strengthen the most important day in our nation's history - 110 years ago today, we started our journey into becoming a nation, a journey that hasn't stopped. We are still becoming.

----

Perhaps I would be less bothered if there was an effort to celebrate independence day in fashion that would truly remind the Filipino that he is worth fighting for, dying for, living for. We may not be in the best of situations now, but wherever we are, we are here because of the Filipinos of the past. We owe it the Filipinos of the past to at least remember what they did for us. We owe it to the Filipinos of the present to love and live for the country we inherited. We owe it to the Filipinos of the future to continue the journey in building a nation in which all Filipinos can dream, live and Be.

If that were the case, then by all means - put the non-working holiday any day of the week. And perhaps that would even extend the celebration the whole week - giving us more time to reflect and remember who we are and who we want to become.

The manner in which we celebrate is something I think we forget. What we always focus on is the "free day" in which we do not need to work. The distinction between our "free day" and the ability to celebrate (and in a very Josef Pieper way - experience leisure) has been blurred so much by our focus on utilitarian/modern-day/earning culture and it's products as the end-all and be-all of our existence.

If the non-working holiday had remained on the 12th of June (like it should have) it does not necessarily mean that the hearts of the Filipinos will automatically warm up to this notion of nationhood and move to the beat of the patriotic hearts of the few and the proud (which I truly believe is growing in number).

But it would have been a good place and time to start developing and cultivating the spirit our country needs. Then again, I guess we should try to do that everyday.

Whatever - work or no work, today is our birthday. :-) Maligayang Bati, Pilipinas! To more years of independence! And well, here's hoping for the next years to be truly independent. :-)

Happy Birthday Pilipinas!

2008-06-11T17:57:00.000-07:00

Thank you for dedicating this post to me, Mr. Manalo. I have yet to respond - give me a few more hours... :-)

----------
Taken from Peejay Manalo's Multiply

It really irks me how they just moved what is, for all intents and purposes, the most important (yes, emphases on all 3 words) day for this nation. After a laborious delivery - 300 years in the offing - we finally popped out kicking and screaming on June 12, 1898: it was the birthday of the Filipino.

I don't even know how this gets through even under the guise of 'holiday economics.' While I'm not one to complain about 3-day weekends but then, surely, the line had to be drawn in this case. But, of course, it wasn't.

Sure, it could always be argued that the commemoration would of course continue and the veritas of the day is still there (on the 12th) it's just more convenient and economically progressive to have the holiday on a Monday. In that case, let's also move another very special birthday to the preceding Monday, in the name of convenience and economic progress and since the commemoration needn't be lessened and the veritas of the day is still present, let us move from it's Thursday berth the birth of our Lord: Christmas!

See, how that wouldn't work? They wouldn't even dare lest there be an outcry from the vastly Christian majority of Filipinos. Hmmm... Filipinos? Maybe they would dare because the Filipinos don't even care for their own birthday.

p.s. This is for you Tam Tan. hahahaha

Integrity and Knowledge (integrated with a retrovirus)

2008-06-07T08:14:00.005-07:00

Quote for the day:

Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful.
- Samuel Johnson
English author, critic, & lexicographer (1709 - 1784)

Thank you, Cathy!!! You have reminded the idealistic fools that run the Asia Pacific office that we cannot run on passion, hopes and dreams alone. The good conscience that we always hope to follow must always be an informed conscience - and my God, the information we received this morning was a lot.

-----

So today we learned about HIV - the human immunodeficiency virus. Among the many things that WYA can talk about - why HIV? Why do we even have a whole set of readings on such a virus and the dreaded disease (AIDS) that it can very possibly lead to?

What did I learn today? Maaaan, that HIV is one smart virus. It outsmarts our immune system. That is scary stuff right there. It is basically a virus that can lead to AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome). This weakens the body so much that one can die due to pneumonia or the common cold. People aren't supposed to die because of a cold (and while we're at it, people aren't supposed to die of hunger either).

On a more optimistic note, we learned that HIV/AIDS is a behavioral disease. It can be transmitted only through sexual intercourse (oral, anal and vaginal), the use of infected needles and syringes (no more shooting up, people!) and through mother-to-child transmission (pregnancy, childbirth and even breastfeeding). So no, you cannot get sick from sharing a glass of water, or from hugging, shaking hands or swimming in the same pool. [Question from the audience - how about if you drink the water in the pool in which an infected person pees? Answer from Cathy - Ew.]

As simple as these modes of transmission may sound - it is simply not talked about enough. The stigma against people who have HIV or AIDS is just so strong. It's different when you meet someone with cancer - you feel for them, you hug them, you go all out to show you care. But when it comes to HIV/AIDS it's a little bit more different - a bit scarier. And in a way, yes it is scary because the drugs available cannot cure AIDS, it can just curb HIV from spreading - and yet, that in itself is still being developed and not widely accessible to the most hard-hit areas.

I honestly believe this fear is brought about because of the lack of information regarding the virus and the disease. (And well, for the more conservative, vindictive people - I think the stigma comes from the thought that because it is a behavioral disease - it is some form of punishment. And they think less of that person and perhaps won't want to associate with that person... of course that is my own personal opinion of other people's opinions... i could totally be wrong.) The more people know about how it comes about, the easier it is to prevent it from spreading --- the easier it is to put people at ease as well (it is okay to hang with a person who is infected - yes, they are people too).

Looking at the map of the world - and seeing how the Philippines is doing when it comes to infection, we're doing quite well compared to Africa. We shouldn't fall into this false sense of security though - as much as sex is taboo in this country, so are sexually transmitted diseases - and so you have a large population that does not get tested. We definitely have more infected people than what is recorded.

---------------

For someone who has hardly dipped into the hard sciences, I actually really enjoy reading up on HIV/AIDS. I love how Cathy explained the whole transmission process of this retrovirus and how it integrates with our genome, replicating itself in our system...slowly making us crash 'til the common cold kills us. She used cartoons and colors and was incredibly patient with us soft scientists. If anyone wants to hear more about HIV/AIDS and it's life cycle, how it spreads and the anti-retroviral drugs available - contact Cathy. :P

Can't wait to see the primers, Cathy!!! :)

Fwd: On the Meaning of an Ateneo Education

2008-06-02T05:46:00.005-07:00

So I received this forwarded message the other day from the batch 2004 yahoogroups.

I immediately thought of Franke, my cousin. She is an incredibly brilliant young woman who had the same opportunity. She could very well have gotten into an excellent university in the United States and develop skills in whatever it is she decided to pursue. Her intelligence was one thing, but what I always admired was her huge heart and the passion that filled it - and spilled over to the people she loved and well, everyone she encountered. She had amazing parents as well - a mother and father that let her go so that she can complete her education back home - in Ateneo. They must have seen the same things.

As much as I enjoyed my own education in Ateneo, I guess the colonial mentality that something imported (including education) must be better than anything home can offer still somewhat prevailed in my own thoughts. Admitting to this betrayal is big for me. The self-proclaimed proud Filipina doubting what the motherland and well, alma mater as well, has to offer. Tsk. Especially since, in my mind, I would always find ways to justify why I too would send my child - should he or she be given the same options - to Ateneo... without sounding like a die-hard alumna.

There are some things that one just knows, I guess. But when it is articulated beautifully and eloquently - then it's easier to sell the idea. Hehe. SOLD!!!

Enjoy your education, Franke!!! :) I know I did. :)

-----------------------------
ON THE MEANING OF AN ATENEO EDUCATION
by Agustin Martin G. Rodriguez, Ph.D.

When my daughter had the chance to finish high school in New York, we agonized about it: I more than her. Her agony centered around the need to moderate her desire to embark on this adventure because she knew it would break my heart. My agony had two thorns. Firstly, I didn't want her to go because in all our lives, we had never spent more than 2 days apart from each other. Secondly, there was the irony of her studying in the United States. As a nationalist academic and development worker, I always believed that one's spirit had to be formed with one's people—among their myths and their sufferings—in order to understand who one is, what one's responsibilities are and to whom one's heart belongs. I know to the sophisticated global citizen I would sound archaic and provincial, but I still believe that before our spirit can embrace the world it must be rooted in a home we love. But I knew that the idea of giving up this opportunity was breaking her up inside because, as she said, she might spend the rest of her life wondering what if, so I let her go. She left with the promise that she would come back for college because I still believe that the university years are formative. But we all know how those promises go. Two years in the glitter of a new world could weaken the bindings of promises made in times of great emotions. It has been a year and we are now completely at peace with her decision to leave.

All that I have said is a prelude to why I am writing this piece. I am writing this to explain why I believe her formation in the Ateneo would still be the best for my daughter. I want to clarify to everyone else who raise their eyebrows at me, what I mean when I say that I believe an education here is superior to any ivy league education. Many of my colleagues who know that my daughter has a chance to study in an American university cannot understand why I would prefer that she study here. One of them even exclaimed: "You would prefer that she study here even if she had a chance to study in Harvard!" with a you-are-so ridiculous tone. And to me the answer was "Yes, of course, you're so ridiculous." And the reason is simply this: she may get a superior technical education in some top ranking university abroad but only in the Philippines will she have a superior education in being a Filipino for Filipinos.

My daughter wants to be a writer and recently she has had a chance to attend a prestigious workshop in an American university best known as a center for writing. And I was witness to how because of that opportunity, her writing skills have advanced light years from when she left. I have no doubt that if she studied creative writing in one of the US universities known for it, her skills would be strengthened even more. But what would she write about? A great writer is as much about her skill as it is about her great insight. If you have the skill but not the immersion in the profound re a l i t i e s t h a t h ave formed yo u r s o u l , w h a t i s t h e re t o w r i t e about? And who would she write for? A truly great writer is one whose passion is fueled by the need to speak for her people, especially the mute. And to even begin to want to speak for them, you have to be grounded in their misery. One's people are never generic: they take concrete form in the faces that resonate in your heart. I think an education in her own country would prepare her to face the faces that resonate in her heart and perhaps an Ateneo education could awaken the passion to respond to those faces.

I know that many complain that Ateneans lead a very sheltered life in this campus. In an infinite number of ways that is ridiculously true. In the end, the Ateneo is the Ateneo: a separate world from the world of the margins. But what most people don't understand about the Ateneo, is that the Ateneo is not just about the majors or the specific programs. It is about a spirit that pervades among its best people.

When I was young, I was ready to quit the Church because I was convinced that there were no intelligent and just Catholics. And then I came to the Ateneo where I met Catholics who strove to serve the margins because of their love of God. And because they loved God's people, they strove for excellence. That realization astounded me and kept me in the Church and in Ateneo. If anything, Filipino Jesuit education just means to teach people that the love of God means nothing but to love the people who suffer forgotten in the margins, and that we strive for excellence in what we do to serve them best: otherwise excellence and the love of God is empty. What else does faith mean? What else grounds excellence? What else measures the good of a life but that? And if you take Ateneo education seriously enough, and if you are open to its opportunities enough, it will lead you to that realization and it will lead you to your first opening to the faces that you will have to serve. At its core, Ateneo education is an apprenticeship in the work of being a Filipino for others. This is only a slogan so long as one misses out on the living examples of alumni, scholars, administrators, maintenance and staff who show us the way to realizing the truth of an Ateneo education. Open your eyes to those who serve radically and they will radically educate your heart. And if one is open enough one can see that such people dwell in this school because there is a spirit in this school that cradles them and supports their vocation. It is intangible, but it is a spirit that guides the best of us.

Some people feel that we are an elite school that cultivates an elite rationality. Radioactive Sago's brilliant third album is entitled "… Ang Daming Nagugutom Sa Mundo Fashionista Ka Pa Rin." In one gig, Lord de Vera was plugging their album and he said "Bilhin ninyo ang aming album '… Ang Daming Nagugutom Sa Mundo Atenista Ka Pa Rin.'" I could understand his sentiments exactly. Just listen to conversations in the pocket garden where people complain about the heat, their slow laptops and their old school phones and anyone who knows anything about the hardships in our country will easily agree with Lord. But then, if you think about it, although some of our graduates are oblivious to the suffering around them and even if some of them do reinforce structures that exploit the suffering, there is that core of Ateneans touched by the spirit of this school who choose to genuinely build communities founded on justice, to found enterprises that serve true needs, to lawyer for the oppressed, and to doctor for the poor. Many innovations of justice building in our country arise because of their apprenticeships in the magis of our service. We just don't hear about these things because they don't find their way into our tarpaulins. But the spirit is there and it is the spirit that defines us more than basketball championships or the number of CEOs we produce. Somehow, because of our formation, Ateneans still tend to be idealistic about service. And so I say "Dahil ang daming nagugutom sa mundo kailangan mong seryosohin ang pagka- Atenista." This is why, my dear fellow parents, I think an Ateneo education is more valuable for my daughter than a Cornell or Harvard or Princeton education: because here, we learn to be excellent for something important—our people and our Filipino humanity.

Dr. Rodriguez is currently an Assistant Professor of the Philosophy Department of the Loyola Schools.
His daughter, Leal, is a freshman in the Ateneo majoring in AB Humanities.
Edited version of "To my colleagues: On the meaning of an Ateneo education" by Agustin Martin G. Rodriguez, Ph.D.
Chalk Marks. The Guidon. Volume LXXV. Number 6.

Mahirap Daw.

2008-05-08T07:55:00.005-07:00

Most young people are up for any challenge. Most young people want to prove it to their peers, to themselves and to the world that they Can – regardless of what it is, most young people will take on a challenge and naively (or idealistically) say - Bring it On.

And that’s what we did.

WYA decided to form a team for this year’s GK Bayani Challenge. Donna, our team leader, was confident that she could round up a crew that would have the heart and the stamina to build a house in five days. We wanted to help. We wanted to be a part of something big – we wanted to contribute to the development of our country. We were more than aware that we had no skills, no brawn and that it would take a miracle for us to do anything correctly and efficiently, but we had heart and we were up for anything.

We arrive at Kitaotao, Bukidnon ready to build, ready to prove ourselves, ready for adventure. We were ready to make a difference.

As expected, we were inefficient. With or without our hardhats, we weren’t going to fool anyone. We were city kids, in scruffy clothing, attempting to build a house. Throughout the week, we were positive the men from the community were making bets on whether or not the girls in our group could work or not. Magpalitada, maghalo ng cemento, magicha ng mga naipon na bato pagkatapos magsift ng graba. Pero sabi naman ni Tatay Gibson kahit papano natututo naman kami. I don’t know if he just softened up to us and was being kind – or if he was sincere and we weren’t the liabilities we thought we were. I have to admit, our boys were doing much better. They were digging a septic tank. Six feet – each strike, each heave, each motion made to shovel the dirt and toss it out of the pit was packed with passion and the desire to get things done. The boys were set on digging their hole.

We came thinking that the challenge was to build a house in five days. We came thinking that if we complete our house, we would be the Bayanis we were expected to be. But really, much more was expected of us. The real challenge became more apparent as the week progressed. The challenge was not just to build houses but to build much more – character, relationships, a community, a nation. The real challenge is to be a Bayani.

People make this big distinction between heroes and normal people. Actually, we make this distinction between heroes and living people. We have this notion that to be a Bayani you have to die for the country. Through our work, through the talks and through the relationships that we started to make, we came to realize that we don’t have to give up our lives in that sense to be a hero – but we did have to give a bit of ourselves. That isn’t an easy task.

Bawat Atenista Bayani. Bawat Filipino Bayani. Bawat Bata Bayani. It looks good on the shirts. It sounded nice – But what does it mean?

Heroes are people who give much of themselves, extend themselves for the sake of another. Being a hero means opening up your heart to some pain, some discomfort, fear and frustration. Being a hero means accepting these hardships and overcoming them – because you know that it will allow you to grow, and allow another to grow as well. Being a hero really just asks us to do one thing – to love. And really, loving – truly loving is one of the hardest things a person can do. But it is also the one thing we are all called to do.

Upon reaching the fifth day in Bukidnon, we were still far from completing our house (although we did have a pretty sweet septic tank). Five days was not enough to learn how to build a sturdy house – but it was enough time for us to learn to open our hearts.

When one speaks of development, the focus is always on the economic level. There is always talk of infrastructure, productivity, money, GNP and GDP – all of which are immensely important – but we hardly hear of heroism, we hardly hear of love. If we look deeper into the field of development, if we look deeper into poverty, we come to realize that it is more than just numbers, platforms and policies. Development deals with the lives of people – and before one can truly help in addressing the needs of others, one has to get to know whoever it is he is helping. We have to open our hearts and listen, understand and accept. Building a peaceful and just society won’t happen when our economy rises – it begins when we start recognizing the worth, the humanity, the dignity of each person.

The challenge to be a Bayani is a challenge to love. I have heard many wise people say repeatedly that we are all born to love, but are not born lovers – and I agree. We continuously strive to love – to grow and to allow those we care for to grow as well. Loving is a continuous struggle for us to be who we ought to be. It is a choice that we continue to make throughout our lives. Being a hero is being the best that one can be, being who we ought to be.

All of this is a bunch of rhetoric. Kind of like how experts and academe speak of development at universities or international institutions – except I don’t even know if I’m even making sense. I’d like to think I have understood these concepts of dignity, of Being, of giving and loving… but in a twisted way, I feel like I have made it seem more complicated than it really is. Parang pinahirapan ko sarili ko. (Kaya nga challenge e.)

Para Mapukaw daw ang Damdamin

2008-02-23T03:32:00.004-08:00

Next Saturday, Donna, PJ, Rica and several other alumni are going to Sitio Yangka [Tarlac] to spend the weekend at the Holy Spirit Aeta Mission. I am pretty sure this will be a totally different experience from my immersion in college.

We had our briefing session this morning for the immersion. YAY! We were told what to bring and what to expect.

What nga are we expecting from this experience? What do we want to happen during? after?

Para mapukaw ulit ang damdamin.
[Ika nga ni Kuya Bob na taga OSCI]

Let Us Start the Change We Want to See

2008-02-17T02:30:00.002-08:00

Lord, let me be the change I want to see
To do with strength and wisdom
All that needs to be done
And become the hope that I can be.
Set me free from my fears and hesitations.
Grant me courage and humility.
Fill me with spirit to face the challenge
And start the change I want to see.
Today, I start the change I want to see.
Even if I’m not the light, I can be the spark.
In faith, service and communion
Let us start the change we want to see,
The change that begins in me.

*Taken from the statement of the La Sallian Brothers on 3 December 2007. Read out to the community during the mass at LSGH on 17 February 2008.

Brave Hearts.

2008-02-15T21:34:00.008-08:00

So Pedro Arrupe tells us to fall in love. And we all do. We fall in love - and as he says - it influences everything that we do. And because it's such a wonderful, beautiful thing - we celebrate it on the 14th of February. :-)

The love he speaks of need not be romantic - in fact, if anything, Fr. Arrupe was pertaining to our love for the truth, for what is right, for our God.

This Valentine's day, a group of students, alumni and faculty gathered in front of Katipunan to listen to lawyers from the Ateneo Human Rights Center, the Pol. Sci. department and other groups on what is happening to our government, to Jun Lozada and to our country. Simbahang Lingkod ng Bayan (who I believe organized this forum) gave their proposals as to what we can do to show our love for the Philippines. This was a gathering of people who wanted to learn more about the situation, and find out what they can do to find the truth, to work for accountability and work for reform... because really, whether we are for the administration or the opposition, I think we can all agree that there are a lot of things we have to work on to make things better here.

So my date for this Valentine's day was Donna Deej, and our date place was gate 2.5 of ADMU.

It was an interesting event. If anything, it was informative on the legal process (the writ of amparo and writ of habeas corpus that was filed). Many things that we hear on the news was repeated... a link to the Sumilao farmers and Fr. Ed Panlilio was made as well and an invitation to the democracy forum next Saturday was thrown out to the crowd. The forum ended with a candlelight ceremony... and we parked our candles outside the gates, where cars were honking in approval (or so I hope) in response to the "Busina para sa Katotohanan" banners.

Students shouting. Banner flying. People standing on the U-turn slot blocks.

Exciting? Yes. But as Tish Martinez said - we were in a safe place, still behind the gates of our university - how far will we go to be heard?

----

So I was told the other day that Ateneo has failed to make a stand on this issue - unlike La Salle that has openly questioned the administration and has welcomed Lozada into their cloisters. Initially, I questioned why we had failed to make a stand. Sabi nila dahil alumni si Mike Arroyo. Hindi naman siguro. They said that it was an even bigger sin to fail to make a stand and remain quiet in the background.

All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. [Edmund Burke]

Totoo naman eh. The worst thing we can do is remain silent at a time like this.

But after thinking about the situation some more - and I don't know if this is just to defend the school across the street - I think we may have to look at the situation from a larger perspective. It is one thing to make statements against certain people, against certain practices - it is one thing to mobilize people to go to the streets and rally - but it's another thing to actually look for sustainable ways to address the problems that we are facing. It is just as important to find the root and cause of the problem, and move from there. What has to be done to address the problem of poverty? lack of integrity in the government? lack of transparency?

Again, this shows how as a people we always reach this tipping point - we get angry, we get frustrated, we go to the streets - but then what? Do we find ways of solving the problem?

I would like to believe that Ateneo will make a stand eventually - if they haven't already. Students, alumni, faculty have been mobilizing already. As a reminder to myself though, action should not be made only when there are cases like this. We shouldn't just make stands when the whistle-blowers come out and the media goes nuts. This should be something we are always doing - always working towards - a better government, a more peaceful and prosperous country. When this issue dies down, I can only pray that people don't forget and become complacent and comfortable all over again. There are so many things that still have to be done, that have to be addressed and aren't talked about in the media. So many initiatives are being done in the university to address the problems of the nation - but they are tirelessly being done with our without attention [the work being done with GK or with the Sumilao farmers].

It takes brave hearts to come out and make a stand. But we should brave and loyal as well - and keep going whether or not the crowds join us in our fight.

We should fall in love... and more importantly Stay in love.

Fighting for the truth shouldn't be a fling. Living for the truth should be a commitment.

* Donna!!! Our V-Day date was fun! :-) MWAH!

--------------------------------------

Hahaha! So kulit.

I came home from the forum to find flowers in my room. TADAH!!!

To: Baba Payat [Hah!]

From: Your boogers and Dad

Thanks Pop and my boogers/poopooheads for the flowers. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! You guys are the best. You guys are also crazy.

Fall in Love. Stay in Love.

2008-02-14T08:33:00.002-08:00

Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.

What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.

Fall in love, stay in love and it will decide everything.

Pedro Arrupe, SJ.

----

Fall in love. Stay in love.

Stay in love.

Stay.

When you stay - you choose to Be in love. Love is a choice. True love is a choice. :-)

Senate NBN Probe

2008-02-11T03:39:00.000-08:00

Parang yung pinakakawawa ngayon si Mascarinas. He is the weakest link.

Among the PNP/Admin people there he is the only one who could not keep to his story. Wawa :-( I don't think he knows who to protect anymore - the man he was made to "protect" or the Palace.

Proud Bicolana [Mabuhay si Lozada]

2008-02-11T03:33:00.000-08:00

Philippine politics is as colorful as the primetime soap operas. This is not new really – but with Jun Lozada coming out, disappearing and reappearing again, all eyes and ears glued to all forms of media.

My heart truly goes out to this man. I may be gushing like a teenager over the primetime bida – but I have to admit – he is one of the most real men I have ever seen come out like this to tell the truth.

What really won me over was what he said in his first press conference at LSGH. When you speak of a FILIPINO – you go beyond your family – you are pertaining to your whole country. He spoke of how the country, our country, was worth taking risks for. Dear God. When he said that, when he started to cry - I choked back my own tears.

I am not the most updated person when it comes to the whole ZTE scandal. I don’t understand all the details of the project, why it fizzled out and how it suddenly became a huge issue. What I do see though is another chance for change in our country. Maybe – just maybe, this will finally be our wake up call. We have been watching the news, watching the hearings, watching, waiting, and waiting some more.

I hope we stop waiting – and start moving. It isn’t just our government that is guilty of moral bankruptcy. If we continue to allow it to happen, then we are just as guilty.

-------------------------------
Bigay Pugay.

Lesson 1 - Arnis.

My youngest brother, Lee, got me a pair of Arnis sticks [baston] so that he can teach me the basics. I have never really been into sports. I enjoy sitting in a corner and reading a good book – I could care less about running around in the sun/court/field. I am very good at sitting under a tree and cheering for friends running around though – but I don’t think that counts.

Tonight I had my first lesson.

6 Basic Strikes.

Diagonal – Hitting the Neck [right and left]
Horizontal – Hitting the Waist [right and left]
Scoop – Hitting the Knee [right and left]

Open stance and closed stance. Knees bent – right foot forward with a ninety degree angle for the knee, with weight on the left leg. Medyo masakit.

Then we did wrist exercises.

It was kind of fun. :-)

Wanted: Director of Operations for WYA Asia Pacific

2008-01-14T12:42:00.000-08:00

WANTED: Director of Operations,

World Youth Alliance Asia Pacific

Deadline for applications: Saturday, 1 March 2008 (5pm, Manila Time).

The World Youth Alliance Asia Pacific [WYAAP] is looking for leaders with a genuine desire to protect and promote human dignity while making a positive impact on society through integral development. Ideal candidates are great communicators and love to be among people; in addition, they are resourceful, detail-oriented, and organized. Successful Directors of Operations are fast learners, have a great sense of humor, and are great conflict mediators. If you embody these characteristics or would love to strengthen them, please apply.

The incoming Asia Pacific Director of Operations is expected to be responsible for the following in order of importance:

Assist Director in implementing annual strategic plan.
Establish policies, goals, objectives, and procedures for day-to-day office functioning.
Manage internship program, prepare work schedules and assign specific projects and duties.
Direct and coordinate organization's financial and budget activities to fund operations, maximize investments, and increase efficiency.
Prepare proposals for approval, including those for funding and implementation of specific projects (conference, events etc).
Oversee activities directly related to communicating with members.

What you stand to gain:

As the Regional Director of Operations of WYAAP, you will learn valuable operations, supervisory, technical, and project management skills. Your personal time and project management are crucial and you will be expected to lead others in these aspects. You will be expected to direct the internship program and guide groups of interns throughout the year. You will be exposed to diverse cultures from around the world through your fellow staff and interns; you will learn to collaborate, to be adaptive, to build rapport and to self-reflect for continued personal growth.

Candidates for consideration will be interviewed by staff. The selected candidate must complete a three-month internship in the International office in New York. This is a fulltime position. A modest salary is included in the regional budget.

If interested, please submit your curriculum vitae or resume with a 1x1 picture to Tamara Tan (tamara@wya.net).

Interested applicants should be WYA members who have completed Track A of the Certified Training Program. Not yet a member or in the training program? Contact tamara@wya.net about membership and training today. For more information, go to www.wya.net.

Eid Ul Fitr is for Everyone!

2007-11-15T17:51:00.000-08:00

Manila, Philippines – I am a cradle Catholic - born into a Catholic family, in a predominantly Catholic country. I was baptized into the faith before I was one, and have been educated in Catholic institutions my whole life. So, it isn’t surprising that I grew up unaware of other religions and faiths. It isn’t surprising that I had no idea what it was like to interact with someone who did not recognize Jesus Christ as God. The way I viewed those with a different faith was always the stereotype of however they are portrayed on television, in the movies, in the media. Or even worse, I forgot they existed, and failed to acknowledge the diversity that exists in my own society.

More than once, I have heard the phrase “A good Muslim is a dead Muslim”. Because that statement had no direct impact on my life, I would brush it off whenever I would hear it. I was always quite apathetic to those hateful words. It was only when I started working with the World Youth Alliance (WYA) that I started being exposed to young people of different faiths – Buddhists, Jews, Muslims. It was when I started working with these people that I realized how painful and unjust that loosely-used phrase is.

It is also because of WYA that our conversations would always start with us making a conscious effort on focusing what we had in common – dignity. This would jump to school, boys (or girls), parents, and of course, our faith in humanity. We all believe that the person has dignity. We believe that we all have value and have the capacity to do good. And it is here that we realize that we are not so different from each other after all.

Over the past two years, I have gained many good friends – four of them happen to be Muslim. Aliah, Yusoph, Aldin and Annisa. All four are passionate about making a difference in this world and all four are passionate about their faith. They have made me more sensitive to everything that has been happening in Muslim Mindanao, in the Middle East and in most culturally diverse areas. They have always been so eager to share their faith with me – to help me understand their culture, practices and beliefs.

Palagi kayong nag-iinvite para magChristmas party. Gusto din namin mag-invite para mag-celebrate ng mga holiday namin. (You guys are always inviting us to your Christmas parties. We want to invite you to our holiday celebrations as well.) This was Aldin’s logic behind our Eid Ul Fitr Celebration last year. Of course it goes deeper than that – they wanted to share their food, their decorations, traditions and faith. They wanted to share what moves them – the center of their being, their belief in Allah – their one God.

And they did. We had our first Eid Ul Fitr celebration last year, and then celebrated again a few months ago. We invited our friends and family, other members of the World Youth Alliance and shared in their festivities. They served us Maranao cuisine – delicious fish cooked in coconut milk and spices, beef rendang and pastries. An effort to help us understand their faith and their heritage was done through games and casual conversation with the other Muslim guests.

One tends to forget the Muslim stereotype that is constantly being hammered into our consciousness by media when you are face to face with a warm-blooded, friendly, young person, who happens to be faithful to Allah.

What scares a lot of people about Muslims is that they do not know much about them as a people - who they are, what they believe or how they live. When we are not informed (or misinformed by those who exaggerate or focus on fundamentalists or ride on the CNNinzation of things) we become fearful. There is nothing scarier than the unknown, for not knowing is almost equivalent to not being in control. To be faced with someone who we think is very different scares a lot of people. You are pushed out of your comfort zone, and in an indirect way, have to think about your own absolutes and values in case you have to defend your own being.

It is this fear that drives us to do strange things – sometimes, even intolerable things. It is this fear that stops us from trying to make a connection with others – that stops us from trying to understand one another. It stops us from getting to that point in which we realize we are all human – that we may have more in common than we may actually think.

The Eid Ul Fitr celebrations and the Daw’as (talks that share the Muslim faith) that my friends are fixing are more than just an effort by a few faithful Muslim youth. It is their contribution to building a more understanding culture, a more peaceful Philippines, perhaps a better world. If anything, these efforts have opened my eyes to a different culture and a different faith – at the same time has moved me to understand my own faith more.

Pictures from our Pilarki Day at Greenbelt :-)

2007-10-26T01:19:00.000-07:00

Kaia's Photos from the Larki Day

Becoming Real

2007-10-12T03:20:00.000-07:00

I found this a few months ago. It made me happy. :-) This was our A paper from Fr. Dacanay's class when we were third year college. Good job, groupmates!!!

-------------------

After 12 years, two theology classes, and 22 pages of Scott Peck's article, lines taken from our old children's books come to us in a different light. When we were young, trees, rabbits and round things were brought to life and we were simply in awe of that experience. We did not search for deeper meanings because it really didn't matter to us back then. Now, at the age of 20, reading them as young adults (as psychologists would like to categorize us), they become enriched with meanings and what seemed to be simple stories have turned into a treasure chest of learning and realization. That certain excitement we felt at the age of 5, 6 or 7 has been transformed into a wonder that something so uncomplicated can carry with it lessons about life. When we thought back and reflected upon the hundred or so stories we've read in our childhood, we found three stories that have helped us realize what love really is, what it can be and what it's about, written in the simplest of languages.
One of the best things about children's books is that it is so uncomplicated. It delivers its message in a straightforward manner so that even kids understand the lessons they impart. These three books: The Missing Piece Meets the Big O, The Giving Tree (both by Shel Silverstein) and The Velveteen Rabbit, have long since captured the hearts of adults and children alike because they simplify the complicated issue of love. In the real world, love can be many different things. It has many facets and even more applications. Many people are confused about what love really is. These books point out one fact and it is that love is about growth. It is as simple as that. Loving is an act that allows another person to grow. What exactly is growth? How important is it in loving genuinely?

"Once there was a tree… and she loved a little boy." – The Giving Tree
This book is about the relationship between a boy and his tree. The tree never ceased to give the little boy what he wanted, and every time she did, she was "happy". As the boy grew older he would continue to ask for more from the tree, stripping it down until all that was left was its stump.

In reading the book, one could argue right away that this book is about what love really is. With no questions asked, we thought the tree was loving – that it was real love because she gave without ever asking in return. The tree seemed to be so generous towards the little boy, giving him everything he would ask for. In doing so, in giving all that she could, the tree was happy – she seemed fulfilled. Of course there was sympathy for the tree. Seeing her give everything and in the end being stripped off completely into a stump was sad, but at the same time admirable sight. Sacrificing everything for the sake of another seemed like the best way of expressing her love.

However, after further contemplation, we didn't see the love we saw before. As we read it again, we thought, hey, the Giving Tree was not so "loving" after all because no one grew from the relationship. He allowed the boy to become dependent on her – she didn't help the boy to grow (growth here does not mean physical growth). She herself did not grow because, in the end, she lost everything, her branches, her leaves, her fruits. Whenever he needed anything, the boy would always go back to the Giving Tree. He never thought of other ways of getting what he wanted or needed because he knew that the tree was always going to be there for him.

"And the tree was happy… but not really."

"Love is not simply giving. It is judicious giving and judicious withholding as well." (Scott Peck) This is something the tree could not distinguish clearly. She gave the boy everything she had, from her leaves to her fruits to her trunk. She set no limits to what she could give him until she really had nothing left to offer. We used to think this was love – that the tree was fulfilled by continuously giving. And it did really seem heroic. Then we realized that probably, under the guise of love, she was able to meet her own needs without taking into consideration the spiritual needs of the boy. She was dependent on him – her happiness came from his happiness. It fulfilled her image as the "giving tree". We can no longer pinpoint whether the tree stopped her spiritual growth by her self-sacrifice or whether she continued growing by exhibiting genuine love for the boy. Had she really been happy as the writer describes her to be?

This kind of dependency is rampant in most kinds of relationships today. We live in a time where in people need things in a different way. Now, needing something is often mixed up with wanting that thing. People need cellular phones; people need to watch this certain movie; people need to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. We need so many things but we never really ask ourselves if it really is what we should have. What makes a person? Is it his or her money or clothes? Or is it something deeper? A lot of us think that we need people to be happy and yes, that is true to an extent. We do need other people to be happy but we must first be happy with ourselves before we could ever hope to be happy with someone else. True happiness is rooted deep within ourselves. It is situated in the knowledge that I am someone. I am an individual blessed with so many talents. In knowing this, we come to love ourselves. It is only in loving ourselves that we are able to love others and it is only when we are happy with ourselves that we become happy with others.

"The missing pieces sat alone… waiting for someone to take it somewhere…" – The Missing Piece Meets the Big O

Similar to the first book, we see the importance of growth in loving someone. In Shel Silverstein's other book, "The Missing Piece Meets the Big O", it is about a triangle-shaped missing piece that is on a quest to find the piece is could fit into which would make it complete or whole. After what seemed like an endless search, he does find that piece. They made a perfect circle! They enjoyed each other's company and rolled around together as one. But then something unfortunate happened and the missing piece began to grow bigger and the other piece did not welcome this growth as it was an inconvenience to rolling around being an "uneven" circle. The rolling became difficult and that ended their connection. The missing piece is again alone and he does everything to be whole again. But, through his second journey, he meets the Big O – the one whom he thinks will complete him.

"But I am not missing a piece" said the Big O. "There is no place you would fit." "That is too bad, said the Missing Piece, "I was hoping that perhaps I could roll with you…" "You cannot roll with me," said the Big O, "But perhaps you can roll by yourself. The Missing piece was not round and couldn't roll but in order to join the Big O, it had to try. "But I have sharp corners said the Missing Piece. "I am not shaped for rolling." "Corners wear off," said the Big O, "and shapes change…"

With this he was enlightened. The first few attempts were not easy and he had to put in a lot of effort. He finds out that he needed to change in order to end his quest – that he didn't need anyone to make him complete. And with great effort, he shapes himself into a circle and rolls himself beside the Big O.

As we reread the story, the misconceptions about love are more obvious. Most people tend to equate becoming complete with having someone else to fill in the gaps. We must admit that young people, like ourselves, are very guilty of this. Most girls tend to be the victims of fairytales not realizing that love is more than that. We can easily get lost in the beauty of being with our beloved and just like the missing piece, feel ever so complete with the "rolling" as one. When they were rolling, it was effortless and they were happy. This is just like falling in love. And just like falling in love, it was temporary. Once it started getting inconvenient, one wanted to bail out… like most people do.

The story of the Missing Piece clarified the idea of growth. His perception of completeness changed when he met the Big O. He learned that in order to roll, one should not only rely on someone else by should be able to do it on his own. The Missing Piece was able to grow in the sense that his perceptions changed. It was manifested through his actions – through his efforts in trying to become a whole piece and no longer a missing one. In the end of the story, the Missing Piece was able to roll with the Big O. They could both roll independently but they chose to roll side by side. This very much like what Scott Peck said, "Love is a free exercise of choice. Two people love each other only when they are quite capable of living without each other but choose to live with each other". Like many things, it is easier said than done. When we are "in love", we let go of everything. We choose to live in a world where in everything is perfect and there are no problems. We close everything (and everyone) out. In doing this, we stunt our growth as persons. Like a plant that needs sunlight, water and air to grow, we, too, need many things for us to grow. In closing off the world, we limit ourselves and kill our potential to be whole. In learning to become independent, we open ourselves to new experiences, which enrich us, and it is only then that was are given the choice to truly love.

"When you are Real you don't mind being hurt… it doesn't happen all at once." Said the Skin Horse. "You Become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand" – The Velveteen Rabbit

The first two stories we reflected upon were geared towards spiritual growth. They were about being nurturing, accepting, functioning independently and choosing to stay with someone. The last story, The Velveteen Rabbit, implies how genuine love (what is Real) is tested. When people choose to love, they know there are inconveniences that face them but they still persevere. Making a choice like that requires effort and maturity. It is when you start to grow spiritually that you are able to make decisions that will lead you to truly love.

Just like the Velveteen Rabbit, it takes a long time for us to learn how to love. Real loving implies growth and it is not measured in a few hours or even days. Growing is a process just as loving is. When we love, little by little, we develop ourselves. We go through everything with our eyes wide open, knowing that whatever lies ahead, we are going to go through it with our lived ones. The Velveteen Rabbit went through everything with the boy who owned him. It made him shabby and dirty. It made him lose one of his eyes and he was not as beautiful as the boy's other toys. And yet, he was still there. In the process, he became real. Loving makes us real. We admit that the world of fairy tales and romance is nice but it is in the real world that we can experience true and genuine love. The kind of love that will help us develop ourselves and turn us into real people.
Theology 131
First Semester
SY 2002 – 2003

Group Members: Miguel Blanco, Franco Chan, Andrea Escalona, Maan Gonzalez, Julian H. Del Pilar, Nica Hechanova, Tammy Tan

Collective Memory

2007-09-22T06:01:00.000-07:00

I wanted to show Ren the old neighborhood of the World Youth Alliance while we were in New York. WYA was not always conveniently located at 228 East 71st Street. We were not always UpTown kids…we were, in fact, up up up town kids. Sometimes, I still can’t believe we’ve moved to where we are now – from being Inwood kids from the west side (between Harlem and the Bronx) we have become Upper East side residents, living in a beautiful brownstone. It really is a rags-to-riches (well, not riches, but at least we’ve gone beyond rags) story as to how we ended up down there from Isham Street on the tip of the island.

So on 10 September, Ren and I hop onto the A (after transferring from the 6 and the S) and we prepare ourselves for the 45 minute ride up to the end of the line. To get to the old office one could just take the A Train all the way up (you can also take the 1 - but we would use that to get home which was even farther up). With each stop, you can somehow feel the change in the subculture of the area – the diversity that explodes in the City can really be felt on that train. The long ride up could never be boring if you watched who got on and off the train…I’ve always wondered if anybody watched us when we would ride. WYA interns and staff can’t really be categorized into a known subculture. We are what we are – a mix of kids from around the world.

The line stops at 207th street (218th street is the last street of Manhattan – that was where the house was located), just a few minutes away from the Good Shepherd Convent, the home of the Alliance for a good four or five years. The office was located at the basement, no real heating or air-conditioning, no real wiring, and no real working equipment. It was an interesting place to work. It was a good place for Anna and the older generation to build the organization. It was an excellent place for all of us to build friendships, and well, character.

We met with Melinda O’Brien, the first Director of Operations for World Youth Alliance International, up in Inwood for our tour. Melinda and Mark De Young, the first Regional Director for North America, are the official tour guides of the past. They take the new interns and staff around the old area to show our humble beginnings as an organization and to share the stories of our growing pains (which really haven’t stopped yet), crazy parties and dumb adventures (actually, all of which continue to this day).

I felt quite nostalgic – sentimental almost – walking around the park and the old streets near the house and the office. Those were good times – not exactly the most comfortable – but they were good. From the office, we started walking along Seaman Ave. between the park and the residential area. The benches, homes and squirrels were all still there. As we approached the Columbia Football stadium, we made a right, and we found ourselves walking along Park Terrace West – the street of the Pogue. 93 Park Terrace West, door on the right, up the steps and up some more to the third floor living quarters of the staff and interns of WYA (from 2003 to early 2006).

The Pogue was an actual house. In fact, it was a beautiful house – not exactly maintained, but beautiful nonetheless. It had three bathrooms, 7 bedrooms (most of which were make-shift), one kitchen (or well, it’s supposed to be a kitchen – but really, does not function like one), one dining area and a common room. It was shared by an average of 14 people at a time – some WYA staff, WYA interns and well, other random people who were looking for cheap accommodations in the City. This was the setting of all the old stories… the creaking stairs, the broken furniture, the non-existent oven. This was where they hosted an ISF (I can’t even imagine that one). This is where I first learned how to unclog a toilet. This is where Phil had to keep garlic in his pockets while he was cooking – because his shelf was too far up. This is where Meghan Murrell stuck her tongue in the freezer – to see if it would really get stuck. The partying didn’t start when we got a new house – we had our own little parties, sounds coming from a laptop, and dimmed lights thanks to the opened microwave door – dancing the limbo with a broom, with pots and pans on top of our heads. This is where young men and women, spent months at a time, training, discussing, working for something they all truly believed in. This is where we realized, with or without money, we will dedicate our lives to this cause.

Having our fill of the old neighborhood, we said our goodbyes and headed down to catch the A Train – another vital part of our history as an organization. In fact, if we weren’t discussing, drinking, eating or dancing at the Pogue or at the office, we were on the train reading, sleeping, talking and staring at the rest of the passengers. Down the steps and through the turnstile, I was mentally preparing myself for the long trip down (imagine – we had to go through this every time we had to go to the United Nations – or well, anywhere really in the City). To our surprise, the trip to the past was far from over - there was a green, pre-war train waiting for us to board. It was the 75th birthday of the A Train, and every 25 years, the MTA brings original trains out for people to see and ride. NEW YORK CITY was printed in gold lettering outside the old A (once known as the 8th Ave Train). Inside, vintage ads were lined up near the ceiling, all in the color, font and cartoon-like drawings that I associate with Andy Warhol. There was a 1975 fire extinguisher strategically placed inside a glass case in case of emergency. Instead of the airconditioning we now enjoy, electric fans and ceiling fans kept us cool as we moved along the line. It was surreal to be inside the old train – an A train at that. I always felt like it was our train – our link to the rest of the city, to the UN, to the JFK airport. It was stinky, dirty and not always on-time – but it was our line. It had character – just like the convent and the Pogue. We learned how to be patient, street smart, cautious and alert. We learned how to manage our time. We learned how to squeeze two to three people in a turnstile at a time. This is where we had many hellos and many goodbyes – as people left for their home countries.

We normally think of a nation’s history when we hear the term Collective Memory. These are memories that are shared within the group, normally represented by monuments or structures. These are the stories that are passed down from generation to generation, building the identity of the nation, and strengthening our pride as citizens because of whatever victory or value the monument represents. The Pogue, the commune, the old office – all roach infested, non-functional structures, too far from the rest of the world to even notice – is really our treasure chest of memories. This is where we had started, and where we had started to grow. These places represent our collective memory – and it’s obvious in the way we talk about it, and in the way we make sure interns and staff see these places. Inwood has become our very own tourist destination.

The unsung hero in our collective memory is the A Train – taken for granted that it has been our link to the rest of the world – and is our link back to our past. It is not only a big part of our history, but it is an essential part of New York’s history and identity as well. It is not only the longest line in the City, but it’s the only one with a song. The mix of people that ride the train truly represents the mix of people that you can find in the City. The mix of people that you can find in the city – well, you can also find under one roof. 228 East 71st St. Young people from all over the world, different cultures, different interests, different tastes in food – but all aiming for the same direction. Sort of like the people on the A Train.

3 Things

2007-08-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

While were were in Shanghai, Ria, no matter how sleepy/tipsy/busog she was, would scribble down an entry onto her Starbucks planner. Parang napakatiaga niya para magsulat gabigabi. Although it seems quite Oprah-ish (and I think got it from Oprah nga), she would write down three things she is thankful for about that day. I kind of like that idea - and I think I will steal from her and from Oprah - at least for days when I don't make the time to write. It sort of forces me to write - and not forget how to express myself in an articulate manner.

1. I am thankful for good friends... which I am always thankful for anyway. But today, I am particularly thankful for Donna, Des, Alessa, B and Chicco... Hahaha! Because these are the friends I saw today.

I have known Donna and Des since March of 2005. They were juniors in college and I was already working at the Senate. We all started as volunteers for WYA and have continued to work with the organization in different capacities. We spent the whole afternoon together working on the Sulong workshop we're trying to develop. I don't know what I'll do without them.

Alessa spent the afternoon in the office with us. She worked while we worked. And she chismised while we chismised. Hehehe. She is my Ale and I am her Tums. We love boys-hate boys-love boys together. *grin*

B and Chicco! :) Two of my favorite boys! After work (and to continue working), Donna, Des and Ale allowed me to take them to Grilled Tomato (along Tomas Morato and Sct. de Guia) - a cute, little kebab place owned by B, Chicco and Alvin.

2. I am thankful for my trusty islanders! I've had the same blue and white pair since I was first year college (7 years ago?!). They've gone through college with me, to Germany, New York, Bicol and back. They feel most at home though walking through Katipunan Ave.

3. Ate Cristy. Heehee. She said I wasn't that fat after I tried on the dress for Ahia Chris' wedding. HAHAHAHA! Crap. It wasn't that tight when I tried it on a few weeks ago. Did I really eat that much in Shanghai?

So yeah, must take mother's advice and keep off the carbs for the next few days. Konti nalang.

raining rain, chores and chinese relatives

2007-08-25T01:28:00.000-07:00

It started raining again. Nice and cool. Sleepy weather. I'm really a sun person - I thrive in the heat... but I can deal with this kind of weather as well. Sarap. Especially when you're looking out onto a street filled with semi-familiar people, while holding a nice hot cup of coffee, while having a steady conversation with friends (or family).

:)

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Nasa Amerika na si Ren. Crap. I have one week to get my act together, and fix all the things I need before I leave for New York as well.

To do list:
1. Fix Finances
2. Make sure there is money in the bank for the bills that will come while we're gone.
3. Get an OIC to water our plants (Hala-One and Halawa)
4. Make sure the Sulong Workshops are ironed out.
5. Finish City of Joy.
6. Talk to Leland dela Cruz regarding further studies

Okay. Yun na muna... because although I know there is so much more to do... the longer it is, the more inefficient I will appear to be.

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Dad's side of the family has been flying in from all over for my cousin's wedding. Yay for the Tan Clan! :) One of my dad's brothers, Uncle DP, arrived last night..

He's incredibly cool. I love him a lot. He went to Xavier, then to Ateneo for College. He took up M.E. (gross) and was ACIL president during his time. Obviously, he was a smart kid. He speaks French, lived in Paris for a while... now lives in Houston, Texas. I see him about once a year... and we write just about as often as that.

He's a very practical man. Quite rich as well. I'm not too sure what he thinks about my career path. I know this is something that I've accepted - that not all members of my family will be pleased - but sometimes, one can't help but want to be accepted, encouraged and well, supported in the things that make ones life happy. I don't think he totally disapproves (in fact, I don't think any of the Tans totally disapprove)... but knowing them and the way they talk and think really scares me. Hah. That's probably my biggest secret (hidden in a glass closet). I normally could care less about what people think when it comes to my interests, choice in course or field. I know it isn't the most practical or materially rewarding - but dear God, it is so fulfilling. :) But yes, the fear of having the people I love and respect give me disappointed looks just kills me.

So much so that I feel like I have to cover up for my job, or my salary or my benefits. Ew. How weak is that?

Hay. With mom's side which is totally tibak and socially-oriented to my dad's side which totally brings in the Benjamins, my life will never be boring. :)

8 Facts.

2007-08-16T06:37:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Clare! We were classmates in Dr. Zialcita's Cultural Heritage classes in college... Hay. :) My most favorite classes in the world... It was through Clare that I tried to become active with the Heritage Conservation Society (but that didn't go too well... hehe. My bad. Then I bumped into Kara - and well, that didn't work too well either. Hah! Bad bad.)

Anyway... here it goes.

Here are the rules for “8 facts”:

• In the 8 facts about [name], you share 8 things that your readers don’t know about you. At the end, you tag 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going. Each blogger must post these rules first.
• Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
• At the end of the post, a blogger needs to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
• Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

And here we go:

Truth #1. I don't know how to swim... and yet I spend so much time in the water - in pools, oceans, rivers, lakes, waterfalls. So strange. I'm not scared of the water. I think it's because I know that my brothers (who are all excellent swimmers) will save me. It scared the heck out of my mother though.

Truth #2. My biggest dream is to be a mom. :D

Truth #3. I like to appear organized. But really - I just stuff everything in folders or closets or drawers. Heehee.

Truth #4. I own a pair of blue, green and white striped galoshes. I bought them at Target 3 years ago in the hopes that I will have to walk through baha and be prepared (and pacute). I like to run errands when it's raining hard - so that I have an excuse to wear them as I walk through ankle high baha in Katipunan. Really dumb.

Truth #5. I'm a marTree.

Truth #6. I want to go back to school. Take up Cultural Anthro, or Urban Management, or Rural Management. In fact, I just came from the Sociology and Anthropology Department in Ateneo... talked to Dr. Zialcita about my future. Waha.

Truth #7. I am always torn whenever I think about changing my yahoo id (pinakapacute). I know it sucks - it's so --- high school. Hahaha! But it's so me.

Truth #8. I couldn't ride an escalator by myself until I was 11. I used to be really scared hopping onto the moving stairs. Haha! Now, I don't like elevators.

TAG:
1. Kaia
2. Kyla
3. Alessa
4. Glenn
5.
6.
7.
8.

Magiisip pa ako ng itatag.

Trio Does China

2007-08-16T05:07:00.000-07:00

So after a million years, I am back to blogging. I was telling Alessa that updating this page is my midyear resolution. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep it.

List of things I wish I had blogged about - and will try to write about in retrospect:
1. My first silent retreat and the prayer preparations with Mark, Nancy and Kuya Emoy.
2. The Viviamo! Project of the World Youth Alliance
3. Philip Hunt and Seanna Magee's visit to the Philippines and their immersion with GK Brookside
4. Mr. and Mrs. Morris and their visit to the Philippines
5. YTRiP - Youth Tourism Response in the Philippines
6. Theology 131. What I remember. What I've learned. What I've failed at and succeeded in.
7. Renelyn Tan - my new partner at WYA Asia Pacific.
8. Obias Reunion 2008 at San Jose, Camarines Sur
9. Chastity Education... and this upcoming congress on Love and Life.
10. Tremors. Getting sick. Being sick and being ready for death.
11. Further Studies.
12. Farming Dreams.

The list is quite random. But the notes on my notebook and planner are gentle reminders of the things that have occupied much of my thinking time, and if I had been disciplined enough, would have occupied much of my internet time (instead of stalking people on friendster, multiply or facebook).

So, I shall start again. :) YAAAY! Quite timely too since something exciting is going to happen in my life tomorrow...

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I'm going to China. This will be my first time to China China (and not like, Hong Kong - which really does not count as China). The best part is, I'm not going for work! YAAAAAAAAY!!!

One of my super friends, Ria, has been living in China for the past two years (or has it been three?) and will be moving back to Manila soon... Mike and I have forever been planning to visit - and well, are taking advantage of the few weeks we have left to raid her home and exploit her generosity (HI RIA!!!).

It's almost surreal how we're just going to pack up, leave work, hop on the plane and meet Ria in less than 24 hours. Thinking back, we've gone a long way. Ria, Mike and I met when we were in the 7th grade. Ria went to ICA and Mike went to Xavier. Our moms were classmates from kindergarten to high school at St. Paul's in Manila... and like all parents (and I can see it happening already with all my friends who are now mothers) they really wanted us to be friends. And so we were all introduced - told we were the same age, and made to be friends. It wasn't difficult for Ria and I to become friends. I'd like to think we hit it off right away. Mike on the other hand, didn't quite like girls. He still doesn't.

Fast forward 5 or 6 years, and the three of us found ourselves at a beach house at Tali with our moms. I think that's where our friendship deepened to whatever it is we have now. We each have our own barkadas, we each hung out at different spots in Ateneo...but we feel at home in each others company as well. We called each other the Power of Three. Uso kasi Charmed noon. Hahaha! We are the Trio. :-)

So from our sheltered adolescent lives in our EDSOR schools, to our college gimmicks, Dacanay classes and friendship rocks in Tali... to work kwentos at coffeeshops... the Trio will hit Shanghai. Huwaw. Asenso. :)

And Ria is so cute to have created an exciting itinerary for us. :)

EXCITED!!!

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Perks of being Pinoy.

Did you know that applying for a Chinese visa is three times more expensive if you're American? So, for the first time, I will be traveling as a Filipino passport holder. :) Hehehe. I love it! I'm so proud!

Lee's Poll Watching Experience.

2007-05-16T06:47:00.000-07:00

Below is my youngest brothers account of 14 May 2007.

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On May 14, 2007, I, along with a group of valiant persons who believe in the intrinsic dignity and inviolable right to life of a human person, ventured into the depths of the Trinity College Grade School Gym to watch over the polls. Our objective was to collect the 6^th copy of the electoral return and deliver it safe and sound to Ateneo De Manila. The mission was a dangerous one. A small effort to help democracy reign was in session. We became carriers of the voice of the people (who voted in Trinity College :D ).

I am not a registered voter. The question people like throwing at people who have something to say about the government and ends up shutting them up. Unlike the people who are shut up I am 17 years old and that means I CAN’T register to vote. Oh well. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about our government here. I’m going to talk about the power of the individuals who were in Trinity College that day along with every Filipino, the power of the powerless Filipino.

So thanks to Global Warming and the regular summer heat the WYA members had some trouble watching the polls (but it didn’t stop them from staying until the wee hours of the morning… such brave.. nationalistic individuals). We even had a member fall because of a migraine :c The objectives were simple : 1. Make friends with the chairpersons of each precinct. 2. Make sure no one puts an extra point on his or her favorite candidate. 3. Collect the 6^th copy of electoral returns and deliver it into the citizen’s arm.

In the school there were about 32 precincts. Every two precincts were headed by a chairperson who was in charge of a ballot box. It was the chairperson who had the power to read out the votes and give out the electoral returns. And with the chairperson is 2 or 3 sidekicks who help him or her in the grueling task to count over 100 ballots (not to mention they annoying 7 groups of poll watchers in the building making so much noise). The chairperson is usually a public school teacher.

Everyday we make choices. The choice the members of the WYA made to watch the polls, the choice of the teachers to take the responsibility to take charge of the ballot boxes, the choice those who voted made to vote, and the choice every living person makes in his or her daily life. In the choice is an idea. The choice made is effort made to make real that idea. When so many choices are made and exerted with true conscience and respect to the dignity of others democracy works. But before it works so many other choices have to be made. To think about the choices that have to be made by every individual to make democracy makes you think about the power each one has, the power to make something work or the opposite of work. The power of freedom that in turn becomes the power of solidarity which can only be achieved by respecting each others dignity is what May 14 was all about. Well… at least that’s what it would be about if the “powerful” stopped being such boogerbrains.

Presidential Tour 2007

2007-03-09T18:53:00.000-08:00

So the Presidential Tour to Manila is over. Mary and Ann have come and gone – they have seen a lot of good, a lot of bad and a lot of potential. On that note, I’d like to think the trip went quite well – if not excellently.

The highlight of Mary’s trip was her immersion at GK Brookside. We made her stay for three days and two nights – and tried to expose her to as many programs as we could. As expected, we helped in building/painting/sifting sand. Hooray for manual labor. Truly though, I feel like I’m getting physically stronger. I think the monthly builds at Castaneda are paying off. We spent an afternoon at the Sibol school of Talanay – read Juan Tamad to the students, and taught them verbs in English and Filipino. Jump…Talon… Crawl… Gapang. And as they recited their new words, they would do the actions as well. Hay. Cuteness. And of course – the ever important Salosalo before the end of the visit. There was rapping, singing, dancing and more dancing...and eating and more eating.

The hospitality and generosity that the families in Brookside showed us was incredible. The way they accepted us into their homes, their families, their barkadas – the way they allowed us to enter their lives – was touching, enlightening and humbling. It always is. The immersion of Mary went as I expected it to. The building, the playing, the eating, the sharing – everything happened on cue. The laughter and the tears came at the right time, at the right place. It was as I had expected it to be – and yet, the whole experience, in fact, each and every experience I have with Gawad Kalinga, continues to overwhelm me.

The passion that the volunteers have for their work, for these people, for the movement, for their country is so contagious. One cannot help but feel empowered, hopeful and fulfilled when working with them – YAY for Greg, Zeus, Charisse and Chee. These young people, have devoted much of their time to working with Gawad Kalinga, They are all talented, brilliant people who have chosen to use their gifts for a very selfless cause.

Normally, one would feel such shame in showing others the biggest and deepest problem that their country is facing. There is no pride in showing a guest how poor we are, or how underdeveloped our infrastructure is or how inefficient our bureaucracy is. The resilience of the Filipino has never been as obvious as it is now though. The beauty of our culture and the values we hold as a people are enough to overcome our problems – if we work together.

It got me thinking. Maybe poverty is our felix culpa. Maybe it is the tragedy in our shared consciousness as a people that is making us stronger and better. Or at least on our way to getting there. I was so proud to show Mary and Ann our country – the bad and the good. The better part of it was that they saw the transition from the bad to the good. The best part – they were able to share in moving our country towards making it what we want it to be.

Superhero Kuno

2007-03-08T07:43:00.000-08:00

My youngest brother has about a dozen friends sleeping over tonight. They're high school seniors from LSGH - all about to graduate. I overheard Lee telling them "My sisters with the World Youth Alliance..." Sabi ng friends niya "Ano yan?" ...

"Parang...Justice League."

HAHAHAHAHA! Winner.

Fallen from Grace

2007-02-03T23:50:00.000-08:00

My family normally goes to the alumni mass of LSGH on Sundays. I really like it there - it's a nice, cozy chapel - filled with families and La Salle brothers. And there is airconditioning. Hahaha! More than half of the people in the chapel are either alumni of LSGH, students of LSGH, sons/daughters/brothers/sisteres/fathers/mothers/grandparents of somebody from LSGH. And most of the time, they are die-hard LaSallista. Sometimes, when there are basketball games or some other athletic competition among schools, the varsity joins the community for mass, and the ending hymn is the alma mater - always sung with much gusto from the students and alumni. I can deal with this. I mean, my three brothers are/were from LSGH. I know their campus better than that of any other boys school. I have their alma mater memorized (and actually don't have my own memorized. bwahaha!). I love La Salle - and I love going to mass there. The whole family atmosphere is warm and comforting - and yes, I feel God there (as we should everywhere, I guess).

Because of the many die-hard La Sallistas, I am always tempted to go in my Ateneo shirts. I normally wear blue on the days when we have a crucial basketball game - but that doesn't really count (since it could just be a random blue shirt). I must have gone in an Ateneo shirt once already - I just don't remember. Today though, I wore an Ateneo jacket. It wasn't one of those school jackets that scream I AM AN ATENISTA. It is white, with a navy blue stripe going down the arms, and has an Ateneo seal on front - smaller than my palm, located on the left side. Wasn't really expecting anybody to react - we were at church after all. We believed in the same God, and were praying together as a community - not on opposite ends of the basketball court.

As expected, nobody reacted negatively. It's just a jacket.

There was a man though who did notice. His wife is a friend of my mom, and one of their sons was Mikey's classmate in grade school or something. While the moms were catching up, and we were introduced to our Tito, he mentioned that he saw my jacket. Sabay taas kilay. HAHAHAHA! I smiled. Our new tito then says It's okay. Of course he was kidding (or probably half joking since he probably would rather die before sending his own kids to Ateneo). I've gotten used to comments like that though - from my brothers, cousins, titos, friends. And really - it's like a joke. I'm glad they were happy with their La Sallian education - as for me, I'm incredibly satisfied with my Jesuit formation.

Things started getting more interesting when our tito started talking about the education of the Jesuits. That things started getting messed up when they introduced Liberation Theology, that they used to be the guardians of the faith - and well, messed up. Nyak. Eto nanaman tayo. What's up with the world and liberation theology? Is it not obvious that we live in a developing country? Is the need for promoting this preferential option for the poor not blatant enough? I would always ask Mark and XY about liberation theology. I could never understand why my friends, more or less well-versed with the Catholic faith, look down on the Society of Jesus and stare at me wide-eyed when I say that Liberation Theology was one of my favorite subjects in college. Apparently, because it is always associated with communism the concept is always shutdown.

Mark said that the main premise of Liberation Theology are the two greatest commandments of Christ - to love God above all things, and to love your neighbor as you love yourself. Seeing that there are people who do not live lives commensurate to their dignity, knowing that you yourself cannot live that way - how can you help them?

I have been told several times that the Jesuits have fallen from grace because of this. That's just plain sad. They have "fallen from grace" because of their love for the poor? If anything, these men and women who continue to live and fight for a better life for all of us may have left a more comfortable lifestyle - perhaps in that light, they have left a life of luxury, and have fallen...but not from grace... but deeper in love with Christ, whom they meet over and over again in the people that they meet and help.

Man. JVP.
Maybe after WYA.

Mabuhay ang EDSOR Schools!

2007-02-03T02:20:00.000-08:00

I am from an EDSOR school. I am a Povedan. :)

From the fourth grade to fourth year high school, I was clothed in a yellowy gold gingham-patterned uniform. Piensa con frequencia en el valor del tiempo. Aah, the maxims of St. Pedro Poveda still echo in my heart. (Okay - not really. I didn't even remember that until Lisa and Trey started reciting what they remembered from Senora Villanueva's class a few weeks ago) The voice of Mang Baguio is what really rings clear in my head. Tamara Tan. Tamara Tan. Nandito na sundo mo. Bilisan mo. I'd stuff the lumpia (from the Old Canteen, dipped in the best suka in the world) into my mouth, grab my backpack and my thermos, and run out to the main gate just as our car drives up in front of the school (Mang Bags knows our cars, drivers, parents, brothers, sisters, yayas, boyfriends, potential boyfriends - he'll start paging you once he senses them from a mile away). Man. Gone are those days - when life was simpler... and stress equaled getting an S, or not having any IW done by the 3rd week of the session.

Almost seven years after I left Poveda Learning Centre, I come back - and attempt to give back what this institution has given me. WYA was tapped by Poveda to help out at the annual Peace Conference of the EDSOR schools. This was pretty exciting since we have never really gone into the high schools before, and because Poveda was hosting the conference this year. Mikey has always been part of this EDSOR thing (with Leeann and Joanne) and has always gotten those cool t-shirts - with the picture of a little girl from Poveda, another little girl from ICA, a little boy from Xavier and another from La Salle. The Peace Conference is this yearly gathering of student leaders from the four schools, in which they celebrate and commemorate EDSA. The theme this year was Heroic Leadership.

Friday morning, Erika, Frank, Gail, Peejay, Des and I met up at the covered walk - ready to meet our respective groups. The participants were divided into six and we were distributed among the groups to facilitate one of their first activities. I was assigned to talk to 35 students from the fifth, sixth and seventh grade. This was the first time I was going to give my Dignity talk to such a young group. They were all so bright. :) And well, all so hyper and hard to control. It's no joke being a teacher, man. I know the concepts we work with are incredibly abstract - but they're real, and somehow, each of us - no matter how young or old, can relate it to real, concrete experiences in our lives. The fact that they kept raising their hands and had much to say made me feel good - like I was getting through to them. What made it even better was that Teacher Tess and Francis (a teacher at Poveda now, who is just one batch lower than me) were smiling, nodding their heads in approval - building my confidence, totally encouraging. :)

The best part of that day was the Fried Chicken they served for lunch. WOOHOOO! Snaps for the Old Canteen Fried Chicken!!!! The best in the whole world!!! I could have eaten 5 pieces - but I was shy. Bwahahaha. I was half hoping they would serve it again today for lunch - but I guess, I didn't work hard enough to deserve it. Hehe.

Today, some of my friends came to share their experiences as young leaders in society. Thank you to Aliah and P.Do :) Great friends who live such extraordinary lives. And of course to my new friends - Kritzia, Kiddo, Harvey and Ginger who shared their stories as well. With people like them, always working, always hoping - I know that the Philippines will move forward.

I hope the EDSOR kids listened and learned from these guys. I hope they are as touched and as inspired as I am. They were told over and over again - in direct and indirect ways - that they have been given much, more than enough even - and that much is expected of them. Hay. I hope they don't see it as a burden, but as a challenge. I hope they were disturbed by what they heard and what they saw - but not disheartened. I hope they choose not to settle for the status quo. I hope they truly live for peace. I hope they don't forget why we have this Peace Conference in the first place... I hope they remember that there were people who were willing to die for the Philippines, people who flocked to EDSA, surrounded our schools and prayed for peace and brighter future for all of us. May this spirit of unity and hope continue to surround our schools and inspire these kids to live for the country those people were willing to die for.

Mary is Coming to Town

2007-01-25T18:01:00.000-08:00

Mary Halpine, next president of the World Youth Alliance is coming to Manila in a month. WOOHOOOOO! :D

I met Mary more than a year ago - November 2005 - in New York. I was an intern then and was assigned to pick her up from JFK (I think... or was it La Guardia?), give her a nice warm hug, and lead her to Battery Park. Kat Rothweiler and I hopped onto the 1 (I don't know why we didn't take the A Train)... and were to take the bus to the airport. I forget what happened that afternoon, but by the time we go to the airport, the young lady we were supposed to pick up was nowhere to be found. We actually got to the wrong terminal first - then we took the shuttle to the right terminal which was empty. Hassle. And so we failed at our super important assignment. We jumped back onto the bus and headed towards Battery Park - hoping and praying we'll find Mary. I actually had no idea what she looked like. She actually had no idea tha there were two interns sent to pick her up. Hahaha! We were supposed to surprise her with our WELCOME MARY banner. Nasayang lang. Hehe.

Anyway, we ended up finding her later that evening. She didn't get lost. :)

Fast forward sixteen months - and we may find ourselves in a slightly similar situation -- only this time we really have to be at the airport to pick Mary up. If not me, then Erika or Ren. :) But it's got to be somebody - because I don't think she'll be able to find her way back to Battery Park from here.

Most people would probably put much importance on this sort of trip because the big boss is coming to town. She is, after all, going to be my boss in a few months time. She will be the next president of the World Youth Alliance. And I, as the docile, obedient Asian that I am, am looking forward to showing our team leader the work that we have done and continue to do here on the regional level. And yes, it is extremely important for me to show her all that - it is a business trip after all. But what excites me a million times over, is the fact that I will be able to share my home, my country, a sneak into my life with this wonderful friend from far far away. I cannot wait to show her around Manila, around the Ateneo campus, around our little office. :)

And We're Back...

2006-10-24T02:57:00.000-07:00

So. After almost 9 months, I finally decide to post. :) YEY for me!

It has been a crazy nine months... and I don't want to go into detail as to what I have been doing, where I've been going and what I've been eating... I just want to enjoy this freestyle sort of writing that has become my forgotten therapy.

It's a holiday. Eid'l Fitr. Yey for the Muslim community. :) Happy New Year!!! If not for my job, I'd probably have no idea why today is a holiday. And if not for my job, I wouldn't have met my new Muslim friends who have been patiently teaching me their faith and culture. So so interesting.

I think we pray to the same God. I really do. There is much in common - even the angels.

Last weekend there was a Days weekend. First time I staffed in a while - two years almost. Yeah, I think it's been two long years. I mean, I'd pass by. Say hello, have a meal, pass by the disco... but this time, I was there most of the weekend - scraping wax and blowing out candles. Aww. College. Seems so long ago. So many young staffers. Well, they aren't young - I'm just old. It was nice. :) It was like seeing me and my friends when we were second year. So cute. So sipag. Watching the boys dance, I remembered Mike, Carlo, Karlu, Jem, Raffy... :) And well, Kaia was still there - her humor will always be classic. Hay. Nice to know some things don't change.

Ateneo Checklist

2006-02-22T06:53:00.000-08:00

From Kaia and Patch.

(X) eat at Manang’s
( ) learn the alma mater
(X) get on the dean’s list
(X) lie down and sleep on a bench along EDSA walk
( ) be a TNT!
(X) jog around the campus in the evening (morning)
(X) visit the art gallery
(X) know at least one xerox lady, manong, or technician by name (Ate Alma)
(X) get a Jesuit for a teacher (Fr. Dacanay and Fr. David and Fr. Giordano)
(X) itch from higad bites
(X) have gotten an F in something
( ) have taken a crap in school
(X) watch a La Salle vs. Ateneo UAAP game
(X) give a powerpoint presentation
(X) study in the caf upstairs
(X) watch a T.A play
( ) sit on the SEC ledge and watch the stars
( ) eat in Full House, Martha’s Kitchen, and Ken Afford
(X) sleep in the lib
( ) visit Mr. San Andres
(X) go to the chapel
(X) have gotten a pebble stuck in your shoe/slippers in the middle of the quad
(X) cut class with your block to watch a movie (with friends!)
(X) sign up for those institutional (i.e. difficult but brilliant) teachers: Ferriols, Dacanay, David, Manacsa, Ang, Escaler, Arcilla, Totanes, and many others
( ) go to CERSA night (to watch rivermaya)
(X) have tried siomai rice
( ) learn how to smoke
(X) fall in love
(X) actually read the book you keep borrowing from the lib
(X) play cards during your free time
(X) dress in business attire
(X) learn to stay awake for more than 24 hours straight
( ) have gotten side comments from ASSOC
( ) take (and enjoy) Saturday classes
(X) go to your immersion
(X) eat Food for Thought sandwiches
(X) get a boyfriend/girlfriend
(X) take time to read the vandalism in the CR doors
(X) watch “Minsan Lang Sila Bata” and “Macho Dancer” for class
(X) do a last minute paper (like 2 hours before it’s due)
(X) have spent a lot for 1x1 ID pictures (for index cards and teachers’ seat plans)
(X) get exempted from final exams
(X) attend a college mass
( ) promise to quit smoking (hahaha!)
( ) play hide-and-seek in the mini-forest
(X) know where the best restrooms are on campus
(X) join an org
(X) allow yourself to make mistakes (but make sure you sort them out before you graduate)
(X) take summer classes
(X) admire the sacred heart statue in the evening (and if you’re lucky, you might just see a vision of Mama Mary – or so they say!)
(X) make a video for a project
( ) have a crush on a teacher
(X) attend a Jesuit retreat (a must for everyone)
( ) have gotten a parking ticket
(X) come to school in your crappiest yet most comfy clothes (let's go shorts and tsinelas!!!)
( ) learn how to use the Bayantel pay phones
(X) participate in school activities
(X) catch the Blue Babble Battalion tryouts
(X) date an Atenean
(X) ride a tricycle on campus
(X) find a tambayan
(X) admire the marikina valley at night (Pollock the best!)
(X) go drinking along Katipunan
(X) learn how to beg for a higher grade
(X) use your cuts wisely
(X) volunteer to be class beadle (
(X) had the worst lottery schedule for reg
(X) admire the trees on campus
(X) have forgotten about your freecut and gone to that class
(X) eat in the ISO canteen
(X) be active in your org
( ) have signed up on an ACP class just because the girl or guy u like signed up for it
( ) get as many app forms as you can during the job fair
(X) learn how to cram (and still get A’s)
(X) sell tickets (or watch) an org-sponsored movie premiere
(X) save money to Xerox all of your seatmate’s notes
( ) have accidentally seen a make-out session
(X) check out the Meron Lagoon and Lambingan Bridge
( ) have dozed off in class in Bel right after a class in CTC/SOM/Comm. Bldg or vice-versa
(X) learn how to work with groupmates from hell
( ) perfect the art of parking on campus
( ) had a bad encounter with one of the guards on campus
(X) develop a love for sisig
( ) learn how to pronounce “AEGIS” properly (i still dont know how)
( ) have used typing rooms at the library
(X) have reserved a classroom, AVR, etc. for a class or org function
( ) have asked the library for an endorsement to research in other libraries
( ) have lost a perfectly functioning umbrella
(X) have used consultation hours properly
(X) Looked forward to lab breakage refund, in case you didn’t break any equipment
(X) visit the Guidance Office
( ) and Infirmary

Bacolod!!!

2006-02-09T07:52:00.000-08:00

I'm supposed to wake up in 2 and a half hours. :) I have a 5:20am flight to Bacolod... WAHOOO!!! I'm so excited (Okay, so I get excited over almost everything)!!! I've never been to Bacolod - and everybody has been telling me how nice it is. Yeyeyey!!!

Ack. I still haven't packed.

Down time.

2006-02-04T02:18:00.000-08:00

I just got home from Payatas 2. :)

Lin is one very blessed young woman. I am so happy for her...

I have forgotten what it's like to be in the disco. I've forgotten what it's like to just close your eyes... and listen to the music. Feel His love... and let the tears fall.

When I say always
I mean forever
I trust tomorrow as much as today

I am not afraid to say I love you
But I promise you
I'll never say goodbye...

Hahaha! The drama, man.

But really. It felt so good to be there. To sit. To listen. To remember what it really means to love, to serve and to be.

I know I'm okay. I guess I'm just giving myself the legitimate sad time I'm entitled to (I am entitled to sad time, right? Happy Tammy can't always be Happy).

I don't think it's the whole girlfriend/romantic relationship that hurts. It's really the changes that's bugging me. Not that we haven't had changes in our relationship - I think we had more than enough... But then bigger changes will be taking place... Roles are shifting... and I won't be needed anymore. And I'm scared to of losing touch. And I know I feel this way about most of my barkada. It's just that, there was a lot of investment in this one (haha. I can't believe I'm even using that word). But it's true... a lot was put into that relationship.

I think it was the biggest risk ever.

Then again, love is always a risk. And it's always good (right, Raffy?)

Maaaan. My next boyfriend (which will hopefully be my last) really has to be a Dacanay baby. We have to have the same concept of love... of true love. I need someone who realizes that the fireworks will go away... the kilig is not forever (well - that could be a bonus, but you know).... and that it's when the going gets tough that it becomes more real.

Love is a decision... a decision that is made every single day of your life... and it's tough... but worth every bit of pain... because it doubles in joy.

It's down time for me... and high time for the people I love the most. :) [That's you - Raffy, PJ, Mike, Carlo, Lis and Pat].

F in Jedi Training 101

2006-01-10T03:15:00.000-08:00

Or maybe not an F... Maybe a C.

It is bound to happen. Moving...growing... changing... meeting new people, dating, liking and maybe one day loving again is bound to happen. And I'm okay with it. I think. I just get so sentimental over anything and everything and everyone that I just can't seem to let go of anything, everything and everyone. How sad is that.

How am I supposed to be a Jedi Master if I can't let go?

Let go I must (unless I want to move to the Dark siiiiide).

Happy New Year!!!

2006-01-03T00:51:00.000-08:00

Countdown at Tierra Pura

It’s 3:43 in the morning of the first day of 2006. My brothers, Bill and I just got home from another crazy night at Tita Lit’s house. It was Nina and Bill’s first new year’s celebration here in the Philippines – first time to have firecrackers and other combustible objects within such a close range.

As usual, it was great. Endless supply of food – sushi, paksiw, barbeque, ham, cheese… sarap! And the Royal – man, I really missed Royal True Orange. If we weren’t eating (or sleeping upstairs), we were on the street watching the neighbors light their fireworks. It was fun, just letting lose – jumping up and down as we oohed and aahed at the pretty fireworks display in the sky. When it seemed like everybody on the street had finished lighting their rockets, we headed back inside to eat the new spread that Tita Lit had prepared – Hungarian sausage, spaghetti, ciabatta, queso de bola, salmon… and of course the cheap wines.

After having their fill, the parents, Tita O, Nina and Lola were ready to head back home – leaving the rest of us to continue our regular bonding session at Tierra Pura. Who would have thought that most of us were stuck in the car for 10 hours earlier that day? And out partying with the priests the night before?

Fr. Aba and Fr. Marc

My grandparents have always been close to the church – to the parish priests, the seminarians from Bicol, the nuns at St. Scholastica’s… so it really does not surprise us when we have priests coming in and out of the house in San Jose (or at the house in UP...or Tierra Pura). Among those priests are Fr. Aba and Fr. Marc – they used to be assigned at the seminary in San Jose but were transferred to the Archbishop’s Palace and the Major seminary in Naga. Now these two are just the coolest. They are relatively young priests, in their early thirties that like to drink and hang out with us young ones.

Last night, before our scheduled trip to Manila, they took us (kids) to experience the night life of Naga City. After a great meal at Cocoleaf, we headed for Lolo’s Bar. There was a live band playing tunes that could be appreciated by different generations… and were entertaining enough that even if Bill and Nina could not understand the Filipino or Bicol they were saying/singing, they stayed highly amused. When it was time to hit the dance floor, Fr. Aba grabbed us by the arms and started to moving to the beat. It was hilarious. Fr. Marc decided he had a reputation to keep and stayed put with his beer. The dancing at the next bar was more intense. More people, more hiphop and less clothing on the women. It was extremely amusing watching the two priests handle the situation.

On Fr. Marc’s left was a group of girls totally getting their freak on, taking bump and grind to another level. One girl had gotten so low exposing half her ass. Fr. Aba who was seated at the other side of the table (far from the girls, but with a much better view) was entertained by the way his colleague was dealing. Fr. Marc had moved his chair in such a way that he did not see what was happening on his left. He faced us the whole time. HAHAHAHA! The poor girls were obviously trying to get his attention – not knowing (or maybe they did know and didn’t care) that he was a priest. When Fr. Marc left, they started moving towards Bill. Ogad. Of course Nina was giving them the evil eye.

Nina and Bill were exclaiming how the priests here in the Philippines are so cool… and I have to agree – a lot of the priests we know are cool. Bill was all like, They make you want to go to church! Nina even thinks they are so cool they make you want to go to confession. Hahaha! I don’t know about that one… But these guys really are great. Fun to hang out with, but solid dudes that know the right direction.

At around 3 in the morning, after we all had our fill of beer and pikapika, we headed back to the palacio where the grownups were to pick us up on the way back to Manila. I don’t understand how we all made it through the road trip without throwing up or feeling sick. It must have been blessed beer.

In Retrospect
It was an amazing year. I never would have dreamed that any of the things that had happened to me this year would ever happen. I was involved in the Inter Parliamentary Union in Manila, I went to Germany for World Youth Day, New York for the WYA internship program… I met so many different people and made great friends with people from all over. To top it all off, I got an incredible job waiting for me to start in a couple of days.

I will be doing something I am passionate about, in a place that is near my home, my family and friends. WAHOOO!

Here’s to a great 2006, people!!! MWAH!

Manila, I'm coming hooome.

2005-12-22T09:09:00.000-08:00

So the internship finally ended. And my plans to stay a while longer and milk this great country (the United States – just incase people are getting confused as to where exactly I am) for what it’s worth is not exactly going to go into play (yet).

My original plan was to stay and find work… in New York perhaps if I liked it there (and I did. I really really did). Or in Virginia/DC since I have family there. Or in California where I have more family – and where it’s warmer. I sent two huge suitcases filled with clothes and other things I did not want to part with, several months before I moved. And they are parked here, stuffed, waiting for me to do something with them. More than half the clothes there, I haven’t even worn yet here since the weather would not permit.

Now, my plans have changed and I am going to send it back.

I wish I hadn’t packed so much. Cried so much. Said good-bye so much. Hahaha! Everybody will think I’m crazy. Leaving, coming home, leaving again, coming home again. My identity crisis is truly reaching a different level.

I’m not complaining. This has really been a blessing. Who would have thought I’d be going home this soon, with a job that I want, that will allow me to do so much… Haaay. I really cannot wait to start… It’s gonna be great. And I will be with my family… and my wonderful friends… and Jollibee.

23rd Birthday!

2005-11-11T20:49:00.000-08:00

My 23rd birthday was my first birthday away from home… I really had no idea how I was going to spend it. It was to fall on a Friday – Veteran’s Day…an American holiday (unfortunately, or fortunately – depending on how you look at it – I had work). I was planning on going to Virginia for my birthday and spend it with family, but I could not take off from work that day and had to push back my trip for Saturday… and it was a good thing I did… because it was an awesome birthday, thanks to my wonderful friends here in NYC.

Celebration started the evening before my birthday at the Harvard Club. Hahaha! Yes, friends – I had dinner at the Harvard Club here in Manhattan. Crazy. It was pretty neat… red carpets, dead animal heads and antlers on the walls… Harvard Alumnae walking around, smoking their pipes, reading their newspapers… A very sophisticated atmosphere… and I had no idea what I was doing there. Several of the staff had dinner with some friends of the Alliance – including George Weigel. Wahoo. We gave copies of his latest book (which he signed)… and unfortunately, I did not get one. Boob. But ‘tis okay. I’ll live.

It was an interesting dinner really… It was a Weigel event… and most of the guests were wealthy Catholic New Yorkers… quite conservative, seemingly very devout and all. It was a relatively small gathering of about 20 people around a long table in one of the private function halls. There was a beautiful fireplace at the end of one side of the room, and a little podium for the speaker on the other side. There George Weigel started his little speech… but he did not stop there. As the food started coming in, he decided it was time for him to eat as well… but the questions from the guests did not stop coming in either. Through bites of his dinner, Mr. Weigel would share bits of his immense intellect with the crowd.

I guess it is interesting to note that I was the only Asian in that room. Probably one of the only ones in the building – I don’t know. The discussion in the table was not exactly one of the best ones to be in either (as non-white / sort of non-American person). As much as I advocate patriotism and love for country – this was way too America- is- the- greatest- country- in- the- world for me. There was a lot of Europe bashing (Poor Phil – the only European in the room)… and they hardly talked about our part of the world. I don’t know which was better, being bashed or not being acknowledged at all. Not that it really matters at this point.

But of course, Phil and I were on our best behavior. We had to be our naturally charming selves and entertain our potential donors. Hay.

After dinner, Gabie, Phil and I taxied home – THANK GOD! Because I was in killer heels and I don’t know what I would have done if we still had to walk to the subway and commute home. Ack. And it was so cold (It is much colder now though).

Back at the Pogue – waiting for midnight. Meghan brings out little party hats, we uncork a couple of bottles of wine (from our little dinner – Yey for leftover wine!) and Anne Marie makes a little birthday cake – which was really week-old sponge cake, smothered in Nutella (which was Ivana’s – who was out of town… and probably has no idea that we took it)… and because we had no candles – I blew out toothpicks. Bwaha. Riot. The irony of our work… Dinner at the Harvard Club and after dinner drinks and cake at the Pogue.

The next day, my officemates tried to surprise me at the office... So sweet. With pastries and carrot cake and balloons and candles... Wehe. But I got to the office earlier than all of them. So I helped them blow the balloons instead. Bwahahahaha! It was great. We spent the morning eating and laughing - trying to do work, but not really getting anything accomplished. They we left early to go ice skating!!! Wahoo!!! My second time to ice skate.. and I did not fall. :) I just went very slowly. :P

That night, we were supposed to watch Rent (we got free movie tickets)... but were too late and lost our seats...so we ate at Applebee's instead. Bwaha. Ate and drank and laughed. Hay. Good times. :)

We went back to the Pogue happy and full... ready to party... which we did. With nobody at home but us, we turned off the lights, turned up the music and made the kitchen into a club... Rina taught Andreea how to get her freak on. BWAHAHAHAHA. So my birthday ended with a bunch of crazy girls dancing to club music, with the microwave door open (for light)... and our only boy tucked away in the sala, reading his book - too scared to come out and play. Aww.. Poor thing.

Hay. Twas a great birthday. I never woulda thought I would be spending my birthday that way. Ever.

The Cast

2005-11-01T19:48:00.000-08:00

or at least some of the cast...

Megan, Phil and Rina checking out the fridge...

Phil and Anne Marie checking out the shelves. Bwahahaha! How sad is that. All our food is on display. We each get a shelf.. the whole middle portion is common.

That is Ivana - on the phone... You can see the sala behind her. We have no tv... but we do have a kickass projector. Wahoo! We watch our movies on the wall. That's Anna there on the wall. :)

Anne Marie posing with our ice cream. It's huge. It has been in the freezer for a couple of weeks now... and it is still not empty.

I heart NYC

2005-10-21T22:25:00.000-07:00

It's just been a month since I've started the internship... so technically, I've been living in New York City for a month as well... And it's been super duper amazing. :) I love it. I really really do.

I love everything - from the stinky subways (A Train forever!!!)... to the touristy crowds... to the real-supposedly-cold New Yorkers ... to my little home at the tip of Manhattan. :) Of course the best part of it all is my happy little family of strange kids living at the Pogue.

There have been several additions to the cast of characters since last week. We now have Philip from England... and Maria from Poland. It is truly such a riot now with all of us under one roof (Maria doesn't live with us - but she does have lunch or dinner with us once in a while). Evenings after work are spent in the dining room - each with their instant noodle dinners... or the more hard working ones with grilled chicken and vegetables (care of the good old grill named George). Dinner conversations range from highly intellectual debates on politics and poverty to minimal stress topics such as our X-Men counterpart characters. And we cap the night with a bottle of beer (or two... or three).

Once a week, we have international food nights. We are each assigned a week to prepare a dish from back home. And guess who had to cook this week... Bwaha. For the first time, Rina and I attempted to cook (like cook cook... with nobody to help us) ADOBO, Ensaladang Talong, Maruya and Pastillas de Leche. Bwahahaha. Riot. Ivana kept looking over our shoulders... making sure we didn't over cook the chicken or something. Haaay. It was so much fun... Rina and I felt so... domesticated. We were so proud of ourselves. Everybody claimed that the food was great. I don't know if they were just being polite or if they really like it... I'd like to think the latter.

So now, Rina and I are on a roll. We are totally aiming to be kitchen gurus.

Take note - that same morning, we did our laundry at the nearby laundromat. YEEEEY. (okay, I know that is extremely shallow... but... it was sort of our first time to be doing all this...soooo... yeah, reason to celebrate)

WAHOO! Pwede nang mag-asawa.

The Real World - NYC

2005-10-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a while since I last posted. And just about a million things happened to me since.

Manhattan has been amazing. The people I live with are amazing. The things I have been learning – amazing.

This whole internship program is everything I thought it would be and more. The issues we tackle and the concepts we grapple with. It’s truly a workout for the mind. It’s like philosophy and SA classes all over again – but this time with other young people from around the world – bringing in their own paradigms of how the world works. It is obviously not without conflicts – but finding common ground is not impossible.

So, I’ve been feeding my mind with tons of stuff – but it is not even half of the learning experience.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am officially domesticated. Bwahaha! Living with other people from all over in a cute house, a few blocks from the office – with no household help, no manong to drive and nobody to cook or wash clothes or fix the toilet --- is definitely one of the more practical learning experiences I’m enjoying.

Things I have learned to do since moving into the Pogue:
How to boil water --- Oo. Alam ko. Napakasimple nito. But this is the first time I had to do this.
How to (sort of) cook. At least enough to keep me from starving.
How to do my laundry.
How to share space (this one wasn’t hard at all… but it is still an interesting experience to note)
How to disassemble and then assemble the bunk beds in Cole’s room.

And my favorite one so far…

How to unclog the toilet.

Bwahahahaha! Tubero na po ako.

The whole cleaning and cooking bit I am slowly learning. But really – it is so much fun. I feel empowered. Like, I am confident that I can live on my own. I can live on my own in New York City – get around the subways and buses and all that.

Now, living with tons of people – that is another feat. Imagine the Real World of MTV. That is how I am living now.

Cast of characters:
Meghan – Wonderful, warm girl from Georgia. She loves chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and rocky road!
Anne Marie – Cute, bubbly girl from Michigan and Ohio. She is just as crazy as me. She also hits me with Anna’s pillows.
Cole – Wise, nerdy (in a cool way) young man from Seattle. He will be an excellent lawyer one day.
Megan – Great girl with just so much energy. She is in far away Ohio at the moment.
Ivana – Witty, prayerful, smart young woman from Herzegovina. This feisty Croatian has a Filipino love interest. Heehee.
Rina – My fellow Filipina! Wahoo!
Katharina – Our little German. She is the sweetest and youngest in our group. Natural blond with dyed brown hair.
Andreea – A strong woman from Romania – who speaks French and Spanish. And is a lawyer.
Anna – Wonderfully brilliant founder of the WAY. Yey! She’s actually in Manila right now.
Corky – Whale lover from Florida! He works at the museum – and has a pretty good movie collection.
James – Actor/Singer from Iowa that I don’t see very often.
Jason – Another Iowa Hawkeye. Can say a few important phrases in Italian. And has just been on a trip to Thailand.
Frank – Sweet, Harry Potter fan who works in the theatre industry. I will watch one of his plays soon. (Kyla, you’d love him!)

I’ll post pictures of the gang soon. They are just great. Imagine – all these people under one roof. Three bathrooms, Eight bedrooms, One kitchen, One Dining area and One common room.

Hay. It’s crazy!

And I love it!

Mom in Rockefeller Center :)

2005-09-14T13:47:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn Bridge :)

2005-09-14T13:43:00.001-07:00

2005-09-14T13:43:00.000-07:00

State of Emergency

2005-09-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

Hay. Watching the news reports on Katrina, the damage she brought (are all hurricanes female like typhoons?) and the stories of all the victims is so heart breaking. It is so difficult to understand how and why it took so long for help to get to the people in New Orleans and the other hurricane stricken areas. As one of the richest, most powerful nations in the world - you'd expect their helicopters, man power or whatever to be coming in to save their people right away.

Nobody seems to understand why it took the government so long. And the media isn't exactly putting George W. Bush in a good light. Really - what was he doing on vacation during the storm? Haaay. At least he was man enough to admit that he was extremely slow in handling the situation - at the expense of the victims lives.

I don't think anybody here expected something this terrible to happen in this country (Yeah, even after 9/11). Powerful America cannot be touched - not even by mother nature. Hay. So wrong. Everybody was focused on battling terrorism or improving the economy - the possibilities of natural disasters was taken for granted.

The Philippines is so used to typhoons, earthquakes and volcanic erruptions. Once a typhoon hits, people start to mobilize. Somehow, we already know what to do. Getting things together may not be as fast or high-tech as the rescue efforts in the United States, but it is done at a pace that we sort of expect. And then people go on with their lives (not necessarily a good thing). As sad as it may be - watching victims tell their stories and search for their loved ones - watching America come together to help their fellow citizens is heartwarming. There are good people out there. Wanting to help. Remembering the important things in life. Taking off from work, giving up their Labor Day holiday, donating their allowance. Like 9/11 all over again.

Does it really take such a disaster for people to come together?

******

And back home. What's happening? Egad. We have been in a state of emergency for God knows how long.

So they couldn't come up with the magic number. Hay. I don't know what to think of our country anymore.

I hate Congress (lower house of course).

Haha! I still love the Senate. :P

Cory marching with Susan Roces? Wow. Real strange. Wish I were home to watch it on ANC. Or would I be marching there too? Probably not. But silently cheering them on - because really, though I may not be to keen on Noli leading the country, I have become so turned-off by GMA and lost whatever respect I had for her. Hay.

So I guess, GMA is still PGMA. I pray to God that she gets threatened by all this and makes an extra effort to be good and do good...That goes for all other government officials.

Come on, people! Get back to work. :P

World Youth Day 2005

2005-09-05T17:52:00.000-07:00

The World Youth Day was everything the program said it would be – a celebration of faith and cultures among young people from all over the world – and more. It was an opportunity to make friendships, explore places... and for Catholics, a chance to bear witness to our Faith.

I had my first taste of German culture during the Days of Encounter in the small town of Guben, in the Diocese of Gorlitz. This town was allll the way in the east side - on the border of Poland. Our group was welcomed into the homes of loving families that were active in the parish. For four nights, I stayed with the Kellers – Papa Andreas, Mama Cristina and their youngest daughter, Juliana. After dinner, we would spend the evenings with a glass of wine or beer and talk about our countries, cultures and families – exchanging ideas and opinions on the past and present situations of our own nations. My foster parents were extremely passionate about the history and current state of Germany and made an extra effort to explain all of this to us. This was a real eye opener for me – a person who was so focused on the problems of third world nations, forgetting that more developed countries had their own set of challenges as well.

One of the main activities during this encounter was the Day of Social Service – where most of the group cleaned the Jewish Cemetery while several of us went to a kindergarten to play with the kids. Mic, Gab, Marivic and I went to the kindergarten. The kids were just too cuuuute!!! We talked about the Philippines and sang Harana for them... and they sang for us. They were so amazed by our dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin. They even asked if they could touch us. Hahahaha! That was too funny.

Most of the time though, we would eat, sing and share stories and stupid moments with the other kids from Guben. Friendships were made and we all got to know each other better. Promises to write, to visit each other again soon and to meet up in Cologne were made before we had to say Choos (kind of like Ciao) and jump on the train to the west.

The next few days in Cologne were just as exciting and the people just as wonderful as the ones we met in Guben. This time, we were exploring the cities of Bonn and Cologne on our own – following the maps and the hordes of people there to share in the same experience. Just sitting down on the steps of the Cathedral in Cologne was enough to occupy you for the whole day. People from all over the world, waving their flags and exchanging smiles filled every free space in the area. It was just amazing to be part of this large celebration of faith and culture – interacting with different people from all over.

The highlight of my trip was the day Pope Benedict XVI arrived in Cologne. It was like amazing race. Really. Mic, Gab, Mike, Eric, Cheska and I met up with our friends from Guben and got a spot along the Rhein a bit before noon. We wanted to see the Pope on the yacht, as he made his way to the Cathedral. And we did – as he sailed in, and then again when he made his little motorcade along the river. Everybody was chanting and cheering and clapping (BENEDICTO - clap clapclap claaap) for this man – not at all a rock star, but cheered on by the crowd like one – because, at this moment, he was THE Rock Star. Once his figure was out of sight, we ran back to the Cathedral to catch another glimpse of the Pope. We had to run through tons of people. Eric pretty much knew his way - so we followed him. He decided to take a short cut and jump over a wall to get to the other side. NYAY! With my non-existent upper body strength I needed help. Bwaha. Imagine Eric pulling me up onto the wall and Mike pushing my ass up. HAHAHAHA! So we all jump off the wall - caked with mud and moss - and run to the Cathedral. SO MANY PEOPLE!!!! We see him - sort of... and he enters the Pope Mobile. He was to tour the city in his tiny automobile. With the adrenaline pumping in our system we ran again to one of the streets where his Pope Mobile would pass. People were on trees, hanging onto street signs and traffic lights just to see this man. Cheska and I were on the windowsill of a nearby store. We were tired, hungry, dirty (from climbing over walls and detouring through plants) and in need of a bathroom. I had to pee so bad. But we were drawn to this person and just had to see him again.

And we did. Thanks to Eric and Cheska's binoculars I got to see him as he passed one of the streets. Mike moved a lot closer though, flag in hand, and I'm pretty sure he saw him up close. Lucky duck. I would have moved closer too if I were a bit taller. It was useless for me to move closer because the taller people and the flags would block my view anyway. Wawa.

The next time we got to see him (or was in the same place as the Pope) was during the vigil in Marienfeld. It was so freakin' COLD!!! And it was packed with people. It was like the largest sleepover ever. Woodstock - but not really. It was great. :) And the portable toilets. HAHAHA! The highlight of any pilgrims overnight stay.

Hay. Really. The whole experience was sucha hoot. I don't think I've eaten so much bread, butter and potatoes in my life. Or had so much gas in my stomach - because of all the carbonated drinks. No such thing as the South Beach Diet over there!

I really loved Germany and everything I experienced there. It was just great. I really want to go back and explore more of Europe. The transportation system is just excellent. And the people are pretty friendly. I mean - I was expecting people who hardly smile and are rigid and all... but they were great! I don't know if it was because they were prepped on all the young people from all over coming in - but regardless, people were all so hospitable.

Except for the random Nazi youth we encountered of course. But that's another story.

Surprise surprise!

2005-08-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

Last night was Mike Go's surprise birthday party - so Ria and I, being the wonderful friends that we are get to the venue on time to await the birthday celebrant. Bwaha. It was real cute. Anabanana made sure everything was perfect :) She made everybody wear red - invited his barkada, close friends and family. So Tita Marixi was there - and Tita Shirley (who arrived at the same time as Mike). HAHAHAHA! That was just too funny. My mom would have a cow when she hears about this.

Twas nice because Arlo was there - and I got a chance to say bye to him. Ria and I got to make kwento and have some quality time since she just arrived and I'm about to go. Hahay. We really weren't planning on staying too long - Kaia and Anj were going to pick me up and we were just going to hang out or whatever. Ria was going to meet up with her barkada as well.

Next thing I know, Ria was blindfolding me and telling me I was being kidnapped. Huwat? Hahahahaha! People started poking me - and of course this Ria was making them stop since she couldn't cover my eyes properly. Bwaha.

Then they lead me out the door - I didn't even say good bye to anybody except Ria and Arlo. Hahaha! And put me in the car - which I assumed was Kaia's. And I was right.

So Kaia and Anj decided to kidnap me. And they weren't talking to me. The whoooole ride they were quiet. They just played Days music. Nyay. Was I supposed to be reflecting? Instead I made them kulit - poking them and saying TALK TO MEEEE! But no - they just drove on.

Finally we stop - and they bring me out. Lead me up to the house (I already knew we were at my house) and then when I stepped in to the lanai - I shout SURPRISE!!!! hehehe. And my barkada was there. Wehehehe...

Then they lead me up to get food... and then SURPRIIISE! More friends were upstairs. HAHAHAHA! Crazy. It was so nice having this chance to say goodbye to friends. Lots of hugging, alcohol and tears. Each time somebody would leave I'd start sobbing. It was really so sad. My head hurt more because of the crying than the alcohol. HAAAAAAAAY.

By four in the morning the last of my guests had left. Hay. And I was to let my tired eyes rest. Egad. I did not want to look in the mirror this morning - scared my eyes would be so obviously puffy. Hahay. Twasn't as bad as I thought. Yey!

In a bit, Mia will come over, I think. Haaaay. More tears to come.

This is going to be bad on Wednesday. I can feel it. Poor Mike, Mic and Gab. THey're going to be with a sobbing girl all the way to Germany.

HOMILY FOR THE FEAST OF ST. IGNATIUS

2005-08-04T23:38:00.000-07:00

Three parts to this feast day homily: first, a word about our present reality; secondly, some light from our Gospel reading; finally, some words about our founder and father, Ignatius of Loyola.

First, our reality. Let me begin by sharing with you two sets of somewhat depressing statistics. First, this past year, the four provincial Ateneo’s—Ateneo de Naga, Ateneo de Zamboanga, Ateneo de Davao and Xavier University—ran what we have called a Catholic Identity Survey, studying the knowledge, attitudes and practice of our students and faculty in those four universities. When the initial results were presented to me last May, I was struck by three telling items in the survey. First, in response to the statement, “I will not exchange my being Filipino for any other citizenship,” 91% of the students of Xavier University and 85 % of the faculty of Ateneo de Zamboanga said they agreed: they wanted to remain Filipino. So far, so good. Yet, second, in response to the statement, “I would rather work abroad than in the Philippines,” 58 % of students at Xavier University and 56% of students at Ateneo de Zamboanga said they agreed: they preferred to work abroad. Third, in response to the statement, “I feel hopeless about the social conditions of the Philippines,” 52% of the students and 97% of the faculty of Xavier University said they agreed: they felt hopeless about the country.

The second set of numbers comes from projections of Jesuit population in the next five to ten years, worked out by a demographics expert in Xavier University, which I presented last week at our annual Meeting of Superiors and Directors of Work. This, of course, is not an infallible prediction. But based on patterns of the number of those entering the Society, the number of those voluntarily leaving the Society, and finally the number of those leaving the Society and this world eternally, Dr. Imelda Pagtulun-an provisionally calculated that in five years, by the year 2010 (when, hopefully, I will have happily laid down the burden of being Provincial!), from our present number of 325 Jesuits, we will probably be down to 271. By the year 2015, ten years from now, she calculates that we will be down to 229, almost a hundred men fewer than our present numbers.

Have I depressed you enough? The findings of the Catholic Identity Survey reflect, I suspect, the anguished, conflicted mood of many in our country today. We love our country deeply: we would not change our citizenship or leave our country had we the choice. But clearly, many feel they do not have much of a choice. The opportunities for a better life in this country seem scarce for our students. The possibilities, the hopes of a better life for our people seem exhausted. And the number of Jesuits who would have hopefully sought to make a difference in this situation will be significantly fewer than they are now.

So much to do. Such scarce, such limited resources of men, alternatives, hope. This sense of frustration and impotence must have been the feelings of the disciples in today’s Gospel reading too. There is a crowd of five thousand ravenously hungry men, not counting women and children. Jesus tells them, in his calm, inscrutable way, “You give them something to eat.” “Unsa ka? Nabuang na ba ka?” they must have wanted to answer him. But, they manage to restrain their feelings of incredulity and panic and simply point out their scarcity: “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” You do the math, Jesus. That’s one loaf for a thousand men. They’ll be lucky if they get a crumb each. Maybe the hunger has gone to your head too, but you’re not making sense, Jesus. You’re not being realistic here.

Jesus answers in the same calm manner: “Bring them here to me.” And what Jesus does with these pitifully scanty provisions reveals that the secret is how you see what you have. First, taking the loaves and the fish, Jesus looked up to heaven. The disciples’ vision is limited to the resources of this world. Jesus looks into the heaven where his Father dwells and sees the abundance, the plenty, the limitless resources of love and mercy of his generous God. Secondly, he gives thanks. Where his disciples see scarcity, Jesus perceives divine gift. Gratitude for what is given fills Jesus to overflowing. His disciples have noticed only what they don’t have; Jesus sees the gift they do have. Thus, having glimpsed divine possibility instead of human impossibility, having seen gift instead of scarcity, Jesus shares the bread and fish, till all eat and all are satisfied.

Which brings us to Ignatius. Ignatius of Loyola began his great enterprise of service under the banner of Christ with virtually nothing in the eyes of this world too: a handful of friends, no financial resources or institutions. How could such a scarcity possibly make a difference amidst all the challenges of the Church of the sixteenth century? And yet today, four centuries later, we gather this afternoon, four thousand strong, a fraction of those all over our country and world who call Ignatius, in some way, father. We are the multiplied loaves and fish from the original seven in Montmartre, the original ten in Rome. How did this miracle take place?

First, like Jesus, Ignatius looked up to heaven often. In the modest room in Rome where Ignatius lived as General and where he died, there is now a chapel opening up to a little balcony, with barely enough space for a single person. (If you are lucky, you can get the Province’s best ecclesiastical tour guide, Joe Quilongquilong, to bring you there some time.) The view from that balcony is now obstructed by buildings. But it was not so in Ignatius’ time. After a day of heavy labor as apostle of Rome and general of the fledgling Society of Jesus, Ignatius used to retreat to that balcony, to gaze heavenward, to allow his spirit space to expand underneath the canopy of the star-filled night sky. Diego Lainez, Ignatius’ successor as General, wrote this recollection of Ignatius:

At night he would go up to the roof of the house, with the sky there up
above him. He would sit there quietly, absolutely quietly. He would take
his hat off and look up for a long time at the sky. Then he would fall on
his knees, bowing profoundly to God.

“Quam sordet tellus cum coelum aspicio! How small the world seems when I look up to the heavens!” Ignatius would exclaim. How small, how limited this world and its resources seem, compared with the vast, limitless possibilities of the God of the stars and the sky, we might translate today.

Secondly, like Jesus, when Ignatius took stock of what he had, he perceived, not scarcity, but gift, grace overflowing. In the Spiritual Exercises, he begins his famous Contemplation to Attain Love with this consideration,

I will ponder with great affection how much God our Lord has done for me,
and how much he has given me of what he possesses, and finally how much,
as far as he can, the same Lord desires to give himself to me according to his
divine decrees.

Thus it is, that, overwhelmed with this vision of our lives as enveloped by divine generosity and gift, Ignatius invites the one making the Exercises to say, “as one making a gift with great love”:

Take Lord receive, all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my
entire will, all that I have and possess. You gave it all to me; to you Lord,
I give it all back.

Minamahal kong mga kapatid, madaling matuksong sumuko, mawalan ng pag-asa pag pinagmamasdan natin ang mga nangyayari sa ating bansa. Tila kulang ang lahat: kulang ng pagkain, paaralan, pagamutan, kulang ng alternatibo, kulang ng mapagkakatiwalaang mga pinuno, kulang ng lakas at sigasig para baguhin ang lipunan. Kulang nga ng mga Heswita at mga lay partners na tutugon sa mga hamon ng ating panahon. Ngunit siguro, sa kapistahan ni San Ignacio, simple lang po ang paanyaya. Una, kasama ni Hesus, kasama ni Ignacio, pwede ba tayong tumingala? Can we look to the heavens more: can we refuse to allow our vision to be limited to scarce human resources, but in deep faith, see what Jesus and Ignatius, his follower, saw when they gazed heavenward: a God whose love and possibilities are vast and mysterious as the night sky; a God whose mercy, goodness and care for us are resources beyond exhaustion, beyond our puny reckoning? Secondly, tulad ni Hesus, tulad ni Ignacio, pwede ba tayong magpasalamat? Can we be grateful for our giftedness? Instead of retreating into fear and self-preservation when we see only what we do not have, can we follow Jesus and Ignatius in focusing on what we do have, and filled with gratitude, find the confidence to share the gift that we have and are more generously?

The gifts are so many, had we but sight to see and time to recount them. Let me name a few: Where the Irish Province has two scholastics and the New York Province seventeen, we have eighty-five young (ok, some, perhaps not so young anymore!) men of extremely fine quality. Gifted younger men have gradually assumed leadership in the province: a new president and dean in Xavier University, new superiors in Ateneo de Davao, Ateneo de Zamboanga, Xavier School, a new Jesuit principal in Sacred Heart School, a new parish priest in Mary the Queen, at least ten younger Jesuits now involved in the Social Apostolate. Read Frontline the new publication of the Ateneo de Manila Professional Schools, and be informed about the successful Mulat Diwa program of the Graduate School of Business, an attempt to orient business toward national development, or about the Leaders for Health Program which is there in fifty of the poorest municipalities of the Philippines, improving health services for these deprived communities. Travel to our parishes in Bukidnon and find hope in the schools for indigenous peoples in Cabanglasan, Miarayon, Zamboanguita. Visit the Center for Ignatian Spirituality and be amazed at the number of lay people not only making but directing the Spiritual Exercises and responding to the deep hunger for things of the Spirit in our country. Two weeks ago, we celebrated the Coral Reefs Champions Festival of the Institute for Social Order, the oldest NGO in the Philippines, founded by Fr. Walter Hogan, and I wish you had been there to witness the products of the people’s organizations in Quezon and Camarines Norte, the fruits of the coastal resource management, capability building and livelihood programs of ISO.

I should end here, but would like to end by speaking more personally to my brother Jesuits, if I may. Two years ago, in September, 2003, I had the privilege of making my annual retreat in Loyola, the birthplace of Ignatius. It was a difficult retreat. I was aware then that I might be placed on the short list for Provincial, and I had to decide whether to make myself available or, as I felt more inclined to do, to request that I not be considered at all. My limitations of intellect, heart, and will, my numerous weaknesses, which you are all too aware of, loomed before me. I retreated often to pray in a room on the third floor of the modest castle which was Ignatius’ boyhood home. There is a chapel there, now called the Chapel of Conversion. Here it was that Ignatius was brought after his legs were shattered at Pamplona. It was here that, in sheer boredom, he called for the tales of romance and knight errantry that were his favorite reading material, and got instead the life of Jesus and the lives of the Saints. It was here that the shape of his dreams was altered dramatically. Here his foolish wanting and vain desires were purified and made new. Near the ceiling of the chapel, above a statue of Ignatius lying in bed, looking heavenward with a transfigured countenance, are carved the words: “Aqui San Ignacio se entrega a Dios.” “Here St. Ignatius surrendered himself, handed himself over, to God.” I think it was reading those words over and over that helped me decide.

This morning, a brother Jesuit texted me, surprised that, on this feast of St. Ignatius, what came over him was a deep sense of his sinfulness, his weakness, pride and unworthiness. Were each of us to do an honest, searching inventory of the loaves and fishes of our lives, I suppose we would feel that way too. We are sinners. Yet, today, perhaps we can hear Jesus’ encouraging invitation, “Bring them here to me.” “Surrender the loaves and fishes of your lives, no matter how few, no matter how stale and seemingly inedible, to me and my love and power, as Ignatius did, as you promised to do when you pronounced your vows.” In our best moments, in those graced times of our lives when our vision is clear and our hearts free, we know that to hand over our entire lives to the mystery of Love we call God is, in fact, our deepest, holiest desire. Brothers, may St Ignatius then obtain this grace for us his sons today: that, like him, we might hand over our lives more fully to the God of love, that by his grace, with Ignatius, we might become more truly, more joyfully, companions of Jesus, for the life and hope of our people, for the greater glory of God.

Daniel Patrick Huang, S.J.
July 31, 2005