This is not a New Year post. This post brings with it last year's feelings dragged on to the changing of the calendar. I freakin' miss you.

This, pretty much

To me, you are the buzz on the back of the neck and the Cheshire Cat-smile after two generous glasses of wine. You are the brush of fingers against each other, if only for a moment, as I’m handed the glass. You are the flutter of the heart when the soft, dewy skin touches skin for just a millisecond too long.

You are the swell of my chest when, at all of eight years old, I look across the playground and see the best swing–the one I’m sure will send me over the bar and turn me inside-out forever–completely open. You are the pebbles scattering under my tennis shoes as I race past the monkey bars and under the slide. You are that first big swing forward when my legs stretch out in front of me and I can see over the roof of the next house over.

You are the warm, happy din that settles over those perfect house parties–the ones where all the friends you haven’t seen in a while are all back together in one place. You are the clink of glasses against each other as we toast to something absurd and obscure. You are the arms around shoulders as inside jokes are laughed over, as people pass around nostalgia like a peace pipe in the kitchen of a friend’s house.

You are the wind blowing gently over the beach, that thin layer of traveling sand that brushes against me as I fall asleep to the sound of the waves. You are the ice cubes in the lemonade, the condensation, the little breath I take in when I press the cold glass against my neck to fight the heat. You are the suntan lines I wake up with, the freckles that show up on my shoulders as I go to sleep. You are summer vacation.

You are the heady rush I get when, lying on the floor surrounded by torn-apart wrapping paper on my 10th Christmas morning, my parents tell me there’s one more present behind the couch. You are the delirious, happy coma I fall into as I agonize over which toy to play with first. You are the shiny, light brown glaze on the ham as my father carves the first slice. You are A Christmas Story on a 24-hour loop.

You are the first day of school, when all of my pens and notebooks are perfectly organized and even the little dividers are labeled with the little pieces of paper in their colored slots. You are the promise of a pencil case filled with fresh ink and unused erasers. You are the satisfying snap of a three-ring binder as you place your first papers neatly inside.

You are laughing, laughing so hard I can’t see through my tears, laughing so hard I need to sit down for a moment. You are the happy ache in my side from laughter that comes in gales and waves and only gets worse as you try to stop it. You are that moment when I’m being held down and tickled and legitimately wondering if anyone has ever died from being tickled too hard. You are the cries of “Stop it!” that can barely be understood through the squeals of open laughter.

You are all of these things, you see. But I’ll be polite; I’ll resist the urge to grab you and shake you until you see yourself the way I do. I want to show you the Polaroids and postcards of images you embody, the snapshots of our lives we want to save in a shoebox and pass down to our grandchildren–but I won’t. I won’t. I’ll let you go on thinking you’re just some ordinary human, if you want to. I understand, it must be easier that way. 

- What You Are To Me 

Mountain climbing

I know, there's an adventurous streak in me. People from my childhood could attest to my fondness over outdoor adventure. I recall that when I was a little kid, I would sneak out every siesta time to catch dragonflies by the grassland or bathe in the rain. Books triumphed in diverting my attention and curiousness to the written word, which is why I ended up being immersed in the journey within than beyond.

But wisdom does not only reside in published works. I knew, from my childhood, that the nature has its own share in molding one's existence and perceptions of the world. Nature also has power to transmit knowledge beyond words could capture.

Last Saturday, I was brought back to that realization.

I and five of my church friends went on an ocular at Pico de Loro, Nasugbu, Batangas, where once again, I rode on a trip towards the splendid nature. The trip was long and butt-burning. We traveled at about 120 kilometers off Manila, passing along green fields and forests, modern and old houses, young and old province settlers, cows and carabaos, fresh and no-so-pleasant smells. The nearer we got to the rest house we were considering as a possible venue for our weekend camp, the more excited I was about how it looked. When we finally arrived there, we were met by an old man who turned out to be the husband of the caretaker. I and my church friends at first thought he resembled Mang Pasyo (the caretaker in our previous venue), only that the manong who met us was thinner and had a smaller frame. This manong led us towards the unexpected journey we never thought we'd go through--- we climbed a mountain.

My high-heeled white sandals did not stop me from climbing that mountain. I was even the first to arrive at the top! (Well, Oli, one of my church friends, was a little behind me. But then, I think he was wearing a walking shoes whilst I was trekking with a sandals, with the plus factor that I was a woman, and my pants were tight...) So there, we reached the top of the mountain where the air was pure and smelled of grasses. Down yonder, we saw the plain of Batangas--- an exhilarating view it was! I would have wanted to suggest that we wait for the sun to set while standing there, but then I thought that we didn't have much time since we still had to return to Manila in time for a band rehearsal. Nevertheless, I felt that that stint on top of the mountain was one of the best unplanned of experiences I had for this year.

I fathom, the adventurer in me hasn't left me after all these years. And I realize I should let her surface more often so I can experience the other side of life as well. Nature reminded me that I am naturally adventurous and that yes, there's thrill in finding out who you are by just laying yourself out of your comfort zone...

I should do more of re-visiting my child-me days to grow more not only in knowledge but in wisdom.

Jaypee, me, Ferdi, Oli and Gerald at the summit

That's me in pink top, trekking ahead with manong.

Jaypee, Ferdi, Gerald, Krissy and me at the start of the ascent

The path to loving one's parents is simple

It's the point of life when I realize that parents also need our parenting. When we were younger, it was expected of our mom and dad to take care of us, to give us what our hearts desires. But when finally we grow up, we have to give some part of their hearts which they gave to us back not because of obligation but because of plain, simple love.

Last night, I had a conversation with a fellow youth ministry member. He shared with me his current misunderstanding with his mom who works away from their family. From his eyes, I saw the hardship he was going through. His mom blamed him for the mishap that happened to his elder sister who got pregnant out of wedlock, and even went to the extent of suspecting that he was not prioritizing his studies. I could sense the breaking of his heart, one part leaning towards comforting himself, and the other one wanting to comfort his mom. As a young man, I saw that he was struggling to put the concerns of his mom first before his.

And then I came to reflect about the way I have been relating with my own parents. I wonder if I have been loving them the way they deserve to be loved. My parents love me so much. Their love is something I have never doubted in my whole life. And I love them. But last night took me wondering-- have my actions and words been loving enough to contain how much I love them? What have I done so far to ease them of the earth's burden? What have I done to show them that I am grateful of their love?

The young man I talked to last night showed his love by deciding to put his mom's comfort over his, despite the unbelief in him created by the distance. This young man decided to still push through with what he promised his mom-- to be good in his studies, to serve God. From my viewpoint it seems that he clearly sees the path towards loving his parents, a path which not everyone walks on.

Love is

"Love is saying, 'I feel differently' instead of 'you're wrong.'" -Unknown

The Sacrament of Waiting

by Fr. James Donelan, S.J.

The English poet John Milton wrote that those who
serve only also 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
unshakable faith in our cause, more unwavering hope in
the future, more sustaining love in our hearts that
all the greatest deeds of derring-do 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 self-control). We wait
for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a
friend to call or show up for a date. We wait in line
at cinemas and theaters, concerts and circuses. Our
airline terminals, railway stations and bus depots are
great 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 give the last wave of
hand. We wait for springs to come - or autumn - for
the rains to begin and 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 stop.

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 decisions. We cannot remove this waiting from our
lives. It is a part of the tapestry of living - the
fabric in which the threads are woven to tell the
story of our lives. Yet current philosophies would
have us forget the need to wait. "Grab all the gusto
you can get!" So reads one of America's greatest beer
ads - get it now! Instant pleasure, instant
transcendence. Do not wait for anything. Life is short
- eat, drink and be merry because tomorrow you will
die. And so they rationalize us into accepting
unlicensed and irresponsible freedom - pre-marital sex
and extra marital affairs - they warn against
attachments and commitments - against expecting
anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect
anything of us - against dropping any anchors in the
currents of our life that will cause us to hold and
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."

Not if we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well
as flesh, soul as well as heart, we have to learn to
wait. For if we never learn to wait, we will never
learn to love someone other than ourselves.

For most of all waiting means waiting for someone
else. It is a mystery, brushing by our face everyday
like a stray wind of leaf falling from a tree. Anyone
who has 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? Why can we
not have it right now what we so desperately want and
need? Why must we wait - two years, three 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 to diamond. There is
no simple answer - no more than there is to life's
other demands - having to say goodbye to someone you
love because either you or they have 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 own path -
good-byes, 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 a time to grow. There is no way we can
make someone else truly love us or we them, except
through time. So we give each other that mysterious
gift of waiting - of being present without asking
demands and rewards. There is nothing harder to do
than this. It truly 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.

There are times when lovers hurt each other and cannot
regain the balance of intimacy of the way they were.
They have to wait - in silence - but still 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
shortcuts 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 truly loving or of 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 this 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 true love if we
are too impatient to wait for it?

Waiting is a good thing only if something is worth
waiting for. How will you know if it's worth it? Gut
feel. What if you don't trust your gut? Pray. You will
be enlightened. Trust me. Is it wrong to expect while
waiting? It's not wrong, but it will increase your
chances of heartbreak and disappointment if things
don't work out in the end. Is it good to expect while
waiting? It is better to HOPE. What's the difference
between hoping and expecting? HOPING means you're open
to either side of the coin landing though you're more
inclined to believe that things will turn out well.
EXPECTING means you're thinking single-track... which
won't do you much good at all. What's the difference
between waiting and expecting? EXPECTING is waiting
for something TO DEFINITELY HAPPEN. WAITING is staying
where you are, but not necessarily expecting something
to happen definitely.

Do you need assurance from someone you're waiting for
while you're waiting? Ideally, yes. But realistically,
do you really want assurance from this person? It's so
easy to just point at something and make that the
reason why you're waiting ("Because she said..."
"Because he told me that..."). With WAITING, all you
really can rely on are three things: your gut feel,
your heart and mind. Just YOURSELF, not anyone else.
So should you wait? What does your gut say? How does
your heart feel? What does your mind think? If they're
saying different things, keep asking yourself these
three questions (and pray!) until you get a solid
answer.

THEN you'll know if he or she is worth waiting for.

Growing. Here.

Somewhere along the way I lost my drive to do the things I love doing. I lost my drive to write, to plan in the mornings, to plot out my life, to sketch my dreams. I look around and try to look at people my age, seemingly, they too are lost like me. 

But this is a good kind of lost. The lost that makes you feel confident that someday you’d find your pot of gold, whatever that pot of gold is for you. This is the kind of lost that gives me a sense that I am where I am needed, where I should be. Sometimes, I feel that I am only making excuses for the unrest, but most of the times, I find that life is about making the most of what you have, where you are. 

As a young adult, the world challenges me to always look and dream beyond but in some wiser moments, I face the greater challenge of facing what is and making the most of it. Why? Because I want to expand from where I am.

And I believe that’s growing in the present is better than chasing the future, for eventually, we all end up there.