Makulit Ka Ba?

I was cleaning my room just in time for welcoming the New Year, when my niece barged in.

She crawled all over the place.

She touched everything.

She shouted.

She laughed.

She basically messed up what was already a mess to begin with.

You see, she’s just four years old.

And when you’re four, you feel that the whole world revolves around you.

While she was doing a great job in cluttering the place up, and distracting me from the task at hand, she would ask questions like “What’s this?” or “What are you doing?” or “What’s this for?” And she wouldn’t stop there.

She would say it a hundred times over.

Around the corner, she’d also say “Look Uncle Migoy! Look! Look!” Until I would really, honestly, crane my neck and look, she wouldn’t stop.

In short, she’s makulit.

(C’mon, you know what I’m trying to picture out here.)

Then I heard something unexpected.

She stepped on my pile of books, and blurted out “I’m sorry!” in her cute and high-pitched voice. “That’s okay,” I’d say.

Then she edged over my heap of dirty clothes, and again, “Oops, sorry!” she said.

And over and over again, when she would touch what isn’t allowed to be touched, and when she would kick what isn’t allowed to be kicked, her “Sorry” was like music to my ears.

But you know what the best part is?

I never got angry.

Actually, it kept me entertained.

With my two words, ‘that’s okay,’ she knew she was out of danger.

Even though I wanted to send her out and ban her for life for entering my room, my heart just couldn’t take the kulit-cuteness.

I wasn’t able to finish fixing my room because of that.

But hey, that kept me thinking.

Aren’t we the same with God?

We keep on stepping on his Books, kicking his Things, and scattering our mess all over the Place.

We make wrong decisions.

We waste so much time.

We struggle with so many temptations, half of which, we don’t even resist.

But I know that we have a big God.

A God who is ready to forgive us no matter how messed up we are.

A God who is ready to accept us, because in his eyes, we are but four year olds: clumsy, impulsive, and thoughtless four-year-olds.

At times we would hesitate to say sorry, especially when we know that we meant those wrong deeds, but how many of us would say sorry nonetheless –

For whatever graces it might bring us?

It’s just like tugging at the shirt of your mom, saying sorry for eating the last piece of cake, when in fact she was just letting you taste her share.

It’s just like snuggling up the shoulder of your girlfriend when she’s nagtatampo because you took too long playing DOTA at the computer shop.

It’s just like telling your teacher how clumsy you were because you slept late, and forgot to properly punctuate your sentences, and needed a second chance.

It’s being makulit because you know somewhere in that person’s heart is the chance to forgive.

We have all been makulit the past year – just like four-year-olds.

But the question is, have we also been makulit in looking at the wrong things we did, and saying ‘sorry’ for them?

Because I’m sure we already made a whole lot of mess in our lives.

And if I, human as I am, had the heart to turn a blind eye to my little niece’s quirks, how much more does God turn his loving heart towards us, if only we tug on his shirt, and persistently say “I’m Sorry”?

But don’t get me wrong.

This doesn’t mean that those two words are enough.

Just like how your boyfriend wants you to stop being too clingy when it comes to his private life, or like how your dad wants you to become more useful around the house, God expects our ‘sorry’ to also come with change.

And what better way to change, than to tell Him you’ll start this New Year?

No worries.

Who says God will leave you alone?

Be makulit.

Say sorry.

Change for the better.

Happy New Year!

God Codes

I just got off from an FX taxi.
No. this isn’t the first time I rode an FX.
Actually, I’ve been riding an FX since I learned how to commute from our home to everywhere.

But there was something interesting in this particular ride home.
As I sat in front, I was able to pick out, very distinctly, every word of the driver as he was talking to his fellow “tsupers” over a walkie-talkie.
This is a rather fascinating technology, I said to myself.
Usually, I would just hear the drivers talk about their route, update each other about the traffic conditions and, if there isn’t much news, talk about each other’s lives.
But as I was listening intently, I felt like Robert Langdon and Sherlock Holmes combined.
You see, I just figured out, they were talking in codes.

Yup. And after listening to a few sentences, I discovered the following: “5-9” meant “pasahero”; “kilo” meant “puno” (full); and “shirley” meant fly-over.
It was totally weird to me, since the driver was combining these codes to form sentences, and of course, they totally understood each other.
Then, it dawned on me.
Codes hide secrets. But Codes reveal relationships.
You don’t talk in codes to everyone.
Codes are for special people.
Like “Pooshie-wooshie” to your sweetheart, and “Heinekers” to your best bud – for whatever those words could mean.
And when two people understand each others’ codes, a relationship is forged.

Just like how God talks to you.
And how God talks to me.
You see, God wants to forge a relationship with you. Yes, YOU.
And he does this by His codes.
And those codes are exclusively for you and for Him.

You see, your relationship with God is something special.
Something only YOU and HIM could understand.
He understands your brokenness.
He listens to your discomforts and complaints even though you’re really not saying them aloud.
He sees your losses.
He feels your pains and failures even though you constantly hide it from him.

And because of that, he is willing to talk to you. And heal you. And forgive you.
If only you would also listen to his codes.
If only you would turn down the noise of the world and turn up his voice in your heart.
I’m sure that God is saying something to you right now.
And don’t worry. If you don’t get it at first, he will repeat his words over and over until you answer him back with yours.

October 10, 2009

Christmas Day after the Floods

It was like Christmas morning.
The streets were clear. There was a chill as the wind blew. And by the truckload, food has been pouring endlessly.
But it was not Christmas at all.

I was riding the MRT on the morning after Ondoy.
And lo, as my eyes beheld the rain-drenched and empty streets of EDSA, I almost heard it screaming silently due to the tragedy it overcame that fateful Saturday.

I don't know if i would feel lucky or miserable because of what happened. By default, i woke up at 12 noon that day, only to find out that the rains from the past night have not subsided. Because of this, I couldn't but stay home and even rejoice because we had no classes that afternoon. But then, as the news, and the waters came pouring in, I realized that this was not like the other rain i had witnessed in my lifetime. It was unstoppable. It was dark. It was angry.

You see, I wasnt that accustomed to floods. That's because our street has been "flood-proof" until now. When i was younger, i would watch the news and look at videos of the knee-high, waist-high, and chest-high floods in places like valenzuela, pasig, malabon and those infamous flood-prone areas, and never thought that something close would happen to us. But that morning, when i received the news that outside our gates, the waters were ankle-deep, i panicked.

It was a long afternoon that followed.

People had nowhere to go, stranded on top of their roofs. I too had nowhere to go, stranded in the comfort of my bed.
People were cold under the rain. I too was cold to the people - my facebook status still bearing the memories of the hangover from the night before.
People were waiting for help - some, for help that would come 29 hours later. I was waiting for my mom and dad, who went shopping for emergency goodies.

And when the rains stopped that evening, i felt an utter wave of disgust.
A disgust with myself as i saw the tragic pictures, the videos and the messages of my friends on the internet.

Where was I? How could I? Why did I?

Living inside warm cement walls on top of a metropolitan hill does not mean that we always end up on the winning end of a natural disaster such as this. On the outside, it may seem that way. But deep inside, there is a sense of loss. A loss of a responsibility. A responsibility I did not stand up to. A responsibility i totally ignored.

With this blog, I hope I can regain my responsibility over my fellowmen. Today, i will push myself to answer to that. I have alot of clothes to give, alot of food to spare (talk about the fulfillment of my long-awaited diet!), and alot of prayers to pray.

And maybe when i answer to this responsibility, it would really feel like Christmas day after all.

Blessings Multiply Naturally.

I am a regular attendee of the FEAST with the Light of Jesus Community.

At least since last May.

I didn’t believe in charismatic praise, nor in loud prayer, nor in a jam-packed hall of strangers greeting each other.

I liked the books of Bo, and I thought that he, together with his books, his jokes, his small entrepreneurial ventures, was trying to set up a brand new religion when I first got there.

It was all foreign to me. I was literally born and raised inside a parish setting, and under a very conservative and religious family. So you could understand how silly I felt when I first raised my hands in a different kind of worship to God.

It changed me. Inside and Out.

It was only till two Sundays ago that I was able to bring along two companions to the Feast. They were my two co-teachers, and they were not the church-going types, more so, the loud-praise and dance types. Both had their Sunday clear, so no one would lose if they spared a couple of hours inside, I thought.

The moment they stepped in, I immediately saw shock in their apparently smiling faces. They tried to sing to the foreign songs played. They tried to smile at every person smiling back at them. And out of respect, at least they stood up while everyone else was dancing madly for the Lord. At the back of my mind, “Lord, I hope they forgive me after this!”

When everything subsided, and while going back to the car, I said “Uy, thank you for joining me.” And the most unexpected answer came back at me: “Anong thank you? THANK YOU!”

Wow.

And I thought I owed them big time!

But they couldn’t stop talking about it since.

Guess what?

I did it again last Sunday. Two of my former students asked if they could tag along.

“Sure!” I said.

Then, I remembered that one of them was serving in a Christian community apart from the Catholic Church. But hey, what have I got to lose?

So there we were again. History repeated itself, and I was red-faced again with anxiety. But this time, all I said was “Bahala na si Lord.”

And right after we left the doors, I tapped them at the back and said, “Thanks for joining me.” And there it was again. They said, “Anong thank you? THANK YOU!”

And we all told our stories until we parted that afternoon.

It is just awesome how God uses such little people as you and me to become instruments of his love. Sometimes, it really makes me wonder: How worthy am I to be his disciple? Who is worthy?

And knowing that ultimately, no one is worthy, when was the last time God used you as his instrument?

Balik Busko

It's like a hit in the face.

Barely two months have passed since i tended my resignation letter as a teacher in Don Bosco. Together with that was the controversial broadcast that I was to leave my beloved alma mater for personal reasons, not to mention much greener pastures.

But no. It seems that a Spirit continues to haunt me. Because guess what?

I'm back.

And i feel good about it.

But not that good.

Because as July sets in, i would have to give a repeat performance for my goodbyes and valedictions.

Here's the story.

One of our co-teachers had to take a leave for family reasons. Because of that, the department immediately had to get someone who could substitute for the month of June. I was one of their options, and since i didn't have anything to do for the month, eventually, i conceded to their offer. I were to teach English 3 to Rinaldi, Rua, Variara, and Versiglia, while taking responsibility for 3 Versiglia as adviser.

Even though i was giddy with excitement of meeting new students and doing what i really love to do, at the back of my mind was a haunting thought that literally paralyzed me to the bone. What if the students dont take me seriously? What if I havent learned from my mistakes? What if I get too attached and find it difficult to leave again?

These were peircing through my gut as the memories of standing in front of total strangers entangled me.

However, as my first day arrived, everything unfolded before my very senses. The 35 young men who stood in front of me, arranged in two straight lines, were like a seamless horizon, painted with the blue and yellow of the sky and sea. Soon after, as they entered the classroom, their silence and attention were like soldiers waiting for the next instructions, as if holding on for dear life to every word that came out of my mouth. And as the day progressed, i couldnt but thank God for this opportunity which i immediately let pass after a year.

I still have seven days to be with all of them. And so far, I already feel a sense of responsibility and dedication towards them, even though i know that it wont be for long. But on second thought, I dont really have to feel nostalgic about it because I wouldnt be leaving after all. Don Bosco has always been my second home, my second family. So wherever I go, i believe that the things i have learned, the people i have met, and the relationships i have forged will always welcome me back on my next return.

The Perfect First Day

It seems like a "first day" phenomenon has been the talk of the blogosphere for a lot of students, not to mention, a handful of Bosconians, whom i have had the privilege to know this past year. A few moments back, i browsed through a number of blogs of former students, ranting and raving about the highs and lows of their first day in school.

Would I be left behind? of course not.

Today was my first day too. In Grad School, that is. However, it was far from perfect. My classes start at 6 in the evening and end at 9. And since today was the first day, I was all so prepared and psyched up about heading to school and braving the wet streets of Shaw Boulevard, V. Mapa and Katipunan just to get to my class.

It takes approximately an hour to get to school from our house, so imagine the panic i had when at 5:03pm, I was merely stepping out of the shower! I rushed to pick out the perfect clothes for the perfect first day, but at the back of my mind were the words: "You're late! You're late!" Timing was crucial. I had to pack my things right after that, and literally swoosh through the puddles of rainwater carelessly collected throughout our street. I got on a ride, and by 5:50, i was dripping wet, and was standing on the platform of the LRT 2. "Four minutes and 30 seconds," it read. And there i was, at the mercy of the train and the tricycle i was to board right after.

To cut the long story short, I was late. And lo and behold, my teacher was late too! Or so i thought. I headed straight to the empty classroom, only to find out from the janitor that two students had just left, apparently waiting for the teacher to show up. In other words, there was really no "first day" to talk about. Sweaty, drenched and poorer by 84 pesos (that's the fare to and from school), I walked around the corridors of the dim building, with only the faithful word of the janitor that the first day was cancelled.

Lesson learned? I heard this from one of our college professors: "Prima non datur" or "The first is not given" -- the first meeting in class, that is. And Grad school is definitely not an exception!

And that's what makes the First Day always Perfect.

Babang Luksa

Tomorrow marks our dear Uncle Rolly's 40th day in the Lord's heavenly presence.

But because the Bible says, "With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day" (2 Pet. 3:8), it is difficult to measure by human time how the Lord has already rewarded this great man with Beatific Vision in His presence.

Who knows? While Uncle Rolly was gone from us for a mere 40 days, could he have been rejoicing, relaxing and remaining in the Lord for "thousands of years" already? Wow...

On the other hand, it also amazes me how this tradition of Babang Luksa has sprung up in the Filipino psyche. Those of us who are familiar with this deeply rooted Christian practice know well that this culture of "putting away our sorrowful veils" (hence the term "babang luksa") after 40 days of the death of our loved one springs from Christ's ascension into heaven exactly 40 days after Easter Sunday. Hence, religious as we are, we are assured that as Jesus ascended into heaven, the soul of our beloved departed is taken into heaven.

Today, I rejoice because Uncle Rolly's death has not been in vain. His life has been a living testament of happiness itself. he is the epitome of positivity. And because of this, the 22 years i spent with him were the most optimistic years of my life. Because of his death, his memories, his influence, his advice will continously throb in my heart forever.

To all the people who have been praying for his soul, to all those who have been greiving with us, and to all those who have accompanied our family's journey, allow me to say Thank You from the bottom of our hearts.

Indeed, Uncle Rolly is praying that God would reward your selflessness!

Sparkling Gems of Advice

Some true and useful advice from a great theater actress, singer and mother, Ms. Lea Salonga. Taken from her article in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, Jan. 28, 2009:

1) A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. (Translation: if you, second chorus girl from the left, suck, so does the show.)

2) Make sure your lifestyle compliments your work. In other words, no unnecessary partying during the run.

3) Self-indulgence has no place here. This is a musical, not a concert.

4) Never ever give less than your best. Even if there are only seven people in the audience, those seven made the effort to watch you. The least you can do is demonstrate your appreciation by giving them a good show.

5) You’re not here to make friends; you’re here to work. (Having said that, I’ve made some really wonderful friends at work.)

6) Live your life as fully as you can. How and where else will you get what you need as an actor?

7) Bring your day into your work, and let it run through you. It doesn’t matter if you had a good or bad day.

8) Warm up thoroughly before the show. But not too much that you have nothing left to give.

9) Listen. If you listen, you won’t be out of tune.

10) You are never funny. The material is.

11) Your job in a musical is to service the show, not the other way around. The whole is much greater than the sum of its parts.

12) Leave your ego at the door. There is no place for it here.

13) Professionalism is more than just being on time. It’s about being prepared, consistent, focused and hardworking.

14) Live each moment as it comes. Don’t anticipate what’s going to happen next.

15) Surrender yourself completely to the experience of being on tour. Take it all in.

16) You signed up for this … don’t complain.

17) Be easy to work with. It’ll make for a happy workplace.

18) Be obsessive in your research for the role you’ll be playing. Your interpretation of that character’s songs will never ever be the same.

19) Learn to not take things personally. Be it a newspaper critic or casting director, you will be judged based on your work, not on the person you are.

20) Don’t behave in a way that will attract disrespect. It’s so easy to make a company hate you … and hate you with a passion. (I’ve heard my share of stories about nightmarish actors who hoard costumes from peers and plant negative thoughts into fellow actors’ minds. Not cool.)

21) Make sure you eat something before rehearsals. You’re going to be on your feet all day.

22) When finding a voice/acting teacher, let it be someone you really get along with and respect.

23) There can be so much power and strength in stillness.

24) Be present in what you’re doing, and invest your heart and soul into it. Everyone will be able to tell if you’re phoning it in.

25) After all is said and done, HAVE FUN! This, after all, is the best job in the world.

Professional / (read: "Slash") Licensed Teacher

November 17 -- It was a totally unexpected text message. It read: "Miggy, Congrats! pasado ka rin!" It was from Gon, my classmate who also took the Licensure Examinations for Teachers. I couldnt believe what i read. I remember myself literally holding back my screams of pure excitement and relief while i read the message to everyone. Fortunately, almost all my co teachers were there, who were equally anxious in awaiting the results. Very amusingly, when my co teachers heard about it, we all dashed to the computer to check it out. Together with me, was Sir Emil. He too, took the exam last September 28, and my, if there was an anxiety meter, his would go way beyond the acceptable limit! Then, lo and behold, his name, together with mine appeared gloriously on the LET Passers list.

Then, we were all able to sigh with relief.

Its funny, now that I have crossed that challenge in every teacher's life, that at first glance, my name is merely a part of the thousand other names written on a black and white broadsheet, and merely a link among the many links on a webpage. Come to think of it, those names are, after all, just names once you are not a part of the action.

And it is equally funny when i think that at this very moment in my life, half of my vocation has been actually fulfilled. i AM a teacher. and this is already for REAL.

But on second thought, two weeks after that text message, no prizes were awarded, no special treatment was given, no extra talents were added. That teacher, who reviewed for the test, took it, and passed it, is that same teacher all throughout. That list will remain a list if i myself, dont take it to the next level. No, it doesnt mean that i should be fighting for the raise in my salary, but that i should take teaching as seriously as i should do breathing.

After all, teaching is not measured in the hours you spend blah blah-ing in the classroom, but in the values you exemplify and form in the young minds who need it.

Picking up the Fragments

When we were students, we never thought that our teachers themselves had recollections.
All we knew was that every Tuesday during the examination week, classes would be canceled, and we would pound our minds on our books and notes, attempting to "integrate" everything for the coming exams. Little did I know that while i was at home, anxious about the three-day agony, my teachers were doing some "integrating" on their own.

Its quite amusing that I only knew about this now that i am part of the faculty myself.

And just today, while all of my students were doing what i did six years and so ago, i was enjoying a different privilege of taking my time out with God.

Our half-day recollection was facilitated by Fr. Ben Borja, SDB, in the Small Chapel of the school. He shared his reflections on Jesus as the Model Educator. He enumerated eight points by which we, Salesian Educators, could take Jesus as our model in teaching. Getting his premise from the maxim: "nemo dat non quod habet," or "we cannot give what we do not have," he points out that we teachers should get our inspiration from the Holy Spirit Himself, instead of exhausting ourselves in a mere daily "performance" for the boys.

I was struck by many points. The greatest of them, being the question: "What is my reason for teaching?"

I got fixed right there. I know that i've answered this question a lot of times, and have convinced myself that i had the correct answer all along. But why was i still stuck with this fundamental question to myself? Am I too fixed in the past that i fail to look for new answers? Am I asking too much of myself that merely satisfying the question is never at hand? What is my motivation? What is my driving force? What has put me, and has kept me going through these trying months?

There i was, sitting alone in the chapel. Asking. Thinking. Meditating.

But i never got an answer.

I think i broke myself into a little too many fragments since the school year started. And "recollecting" them in such a short time was very insufficient. Its just like what my spiritual director told me: answers to everything don't come when you expect it. it is like catching a butterfly: the more you move and the more you try to catch it, the more it will fly away. But once you sit down and stay completely still, even without you knowing it, it will come to you.

The main point of a recollection is precisely to "collect again." To collect the memories, fragments, and events of my life and "integrate" it into something which will make me a better person. Tonight, my recollection does not end. i hope that when i come back to school tomorrow, for the first day of the exams, i would be able to see the very inspiration which led me and gave me strength to educate with Jesus' heart: my students.

I never thought i would...

...witness the mayhem of the High School department Intrams Opening once again.

It was pure adrenaline.
Many things have changed since my last intrams opening in DBTC. Surprisingly, many things have somehow managed to stay the same.

I was utterly surprised when i learned that there were already alliances formed among the houses. This is a welcome change for one who has left the institution for six years now. Apparently, among the six houses, the houses of Variara and Versiglia have merged, as well as the houses of Rua and Rinaldi (the house where i belonged). On a last minute move, the house of Kowalski fused with our group, leaving Caravario with no ally. I wondered what the alliances were for. My question was answered when i observed that each house was not only cheering for itself, but was greatly helped by its comrades.

On the opposite end, i felt very much at home when, during the announcement of winners, everyone felt happy for each other. With sir Javier holding the mic while the winners were being proclaimed, one could really feel the energy around the whole gymnasium. The declaration started with: "The Most Active House award goes to..." then, a long pause, while everyone waited in anticipation. "The Most Active House award goes to... the house of..." another pause. "The house of RINALDI!!!" And everyone jumped from their seats all going to the center court which was now filled with people. It has always been a hair-raising experience which bosconians only feel once in a year.

And now that the rush is over, it will take a whole lot of effort to go back to the usual routine. After spending a whole week practicing, preparing, and polishing all our gimmicks, both students and teachers will surely get creaky as Monday creeps in for regular classes.

On a personal note, i too have a hangover from last week's extravaganza. i really do not know what would await this coming week of regularities. however, a thought of Don Bosco lingers in my mind: it is not the special things which require extraordinary attention. it is the ordinary duties, done extraordinarily well which brings salvation.

Happy regular week, everyone!!

a teacher's soliloquy

It seems that the only time i can write here is when something comes to a close -- in that way, i could gather my wits again, and look at the whole picture from a slight distance.

One whole quarter has just passed. And boy, am i so exhausted!
No, it is not the kind that would send me to bed for weeks, nor is it the kind that would make me give up what i'm doing. It's the kind of exhaustion that makes me say "Whoa! i couldn't believe i came through!"

Relieved and grateful i am about all these, i still couldnt imagine that i was able to walk into a classroom of uncouth young men, staring you at the eye, as if waiting for their next prey.
I remember that first day very vividly. i was trembling, figuratively and literally. And finally, after my whole eight-hour monologue-agony, i couldnt wait for the next day.

Teaching has been what i always wanted to do. Well, aside from dreaming of becoming a stage thespian someday, or a professional solo singer of a well-paying production company, i'd still find my home in front of the chalkboard, and behind that elite teacher's desk. It may not be the most comfortable position one can have -- imagine being stared at by 40-or-so students, and being followers of your every word -- it is, for me, the most rewarding at the end of the day.

Having said all these, i couldnt but affirm myself that my teaching failures are not the end. I may have stumbled and fallen many times, but this should only teach me that i should keep my feet on the ground. I may have been very idealistic about myself, but this should only teach me that the best is yet to come.

for my students, thank you for those valuable lessons. for my mentors, thank you for being an inspiration and model!

It is Finished!

I officially ended my short stint as a College Professor yesterday, April 17, at three o'clock in the afternoon. It was after a whole day of checking, computng and balancing grades that i finally surrendered and said to myself, "Well, it's officially over."

Our last day of class actually was two days back. Tuesday, we watched RENT, a stunning Broadway musical about a group of young artists trying to survive the world in the midst of many troubles: poverty, the AIDS epidemic, drugs, and above all, the year's apartment rent. Talking about the movie a little bit, i'd give it ten stars for its wonderful music, powerful cast and riveting story. until now, the message of the film lingers in me because it not only is a Pulitzer prize winner, but a poignant reflection of real life, seen in a culture a lot different from ours, but nonetheless a lot similar to our human struggles.

Capping the film, we had a short discussion with the class. I was taken aback by their insights and their realizations based on the story. I've come up with my own:

1. Life is not ours. We just RENT it and pay back for it someday.

2. "There's only us, there's only this
Forget regret or life is yours to miss.
No other road, no other way,
No day but today."
- Live your life to the full. yup, i took a breather from the seminary, but it doesnt stop me from living a life as equally full and as equally fulfilling as that when i was part of the formation house.
- Regret for the past and anxiety for what is yet to come is the Devil's work.

3. How do you measure your life? not in years, not in accomplishments, not in problems nr victories. You measure your life in Love. How much have you loved? Have you loved as Jesus loved?

These suddenly made me miss my Literature class. I left them with these words: "I learned alot from you, i hope you learned alot from me too. Life is very meaningful. Find it."

Failure...

I love this word. it sounds so sophisticated and clean. nevertheless, behind it is a truckload of subtexts which we ought not say out here.

When things go wrong, people around me hear my "failure." this is not original by the way. Giving credit to where it is due, Fr. Dong Ofina, SDB and Fr. Nioret Geronimo, SDB, have been the proponents of the "Failure" fever.

Anyway, today, a Failure has just occured, and i just couldnt keep it to myself.
I told my World Lit class to research and get hold of a copy of one of the chapters of Khalil Gibran's the Prophet. They did come to class prepared. Little did they know that it was their teacher who was not ready (i hate coming to class ill-prepared. when that happens, i feel that i am the worst teacher in town).

I didnt give justice to such a great work of wisdom and of literature. During the class, i didnt give a backgrounder on the text, a sketch of the author, a cultural insight, not even a praise for the work, which might inspire them in creating their assignment. Nothing. I instead set them free for the long four hour period, leaving them with the task to make a lame ONE-page reflection paper on any chapter they chose.

it was only when i left the room that i realized the terrible injustice i have caused. i felt that i have not demanded enough from them, which might cause them to think less critically about the work and about their life. If only i had come to class more prepared, more inspired, more clear about what i wanted them to learn, then i wouldnt have said "Failure" after all.

Ill make it up next time. This was a mistake meant to be learned from.

Teaching College

I went back to Don Bosco Canlubang just to get my transcipt and diploma. little did i know that the teacher-scarcity phenomenon is still raging. Without hesitation, our school registrar asked, nay, pleaded me to teach at least one subject in their english curriculum. And after much thought, i gave in. i took the dreaded World Literature to occupy me while waiting for my real job in Don Bosco Mandaluyong.
The course was apparently compressed to fifteen days. what's more, i would be dealing not with English Majors, rather, with Technical Education majors, all incoming fourth years. Whoa! i said. could i teach a crash course on world lit to a bunch of guys who might not even be able to use this in real life?
But what the heck. i need a little brushing up on my literary assets anyway. So i took the challenge, more for my development.

So far, we've just finished Ancient and Medieval literature, and we're midway with the Renaissance era. It just amazes me how brilliant these guys could be. Well, aside from coming late sometimes, i'm able to squeeze out juicy and pragmatic ideas from them. As a teacher, this is the only and the greatest consolation: that in the end, you form these young people to get the best out of life.
Looking from another perspective, i'm not yet qualified to teach college, but it's rather bringing out the best in me too. slowly, im starting to learn techniques like having to be strict in the classroom, sticking to rules and being consistent, which would be of great use for me once i step inside the High School environment.

Six days of class have gone, and so far, i'm looking forward to the remaining nine. Thank God, the PASSION hasn't burned out.

My First EDSA Experience

I've traveled that road a million times since I was a child.
But this time, it was like i was treading on alien soil.

We left for our lola's house in Quezon City at 2pm today, and, already seated in the car were my two brothers: Ponso at the very back of our Innova, and Gaboy in the co-pilot's chair. I surmised that neither Mama nor Papa would do the driving, so with jittery hands and sweaty feet, i hopped on and took the dare.
Going to Quezon City from Mandaluyong was easiest via EDSA. And EDSA has never been a pretty sight for me. But with no holds barred, i drove off, ever mindful of my gear-changing, my footwork and the occasional bastards dotting the lanes of EDSA.

It was an exhilarating experience having to sit behind the wheel. i observed THREE THINGS, which i never took notice of before:
1. The lanes in the infamous EDSA are never straight. they'd curve a little to the right at one point, then a little to the left at another. the most scary part is that it even grows narrow. and this calls for extra maneuvering work. (phew!)
2. My maximum speed is 60 kph. (okay, so i can hear your snickering now...) two things: its better to be slow than sorry, and, I'm just a neophyte.
3. (This is connected to #2) People really don't mind if you're slow. Yes, they'll overtake you and stuff, but it's really an each-to-his-own-car world out there. whether you drive at top speed or turtle behind the others, just as long as you dont hit anyone, stall at the middle of the road or change lanes without making any signal whatsoever, you're pretty sure that you'll come out alive.

Im grateful that we did come out alive after that grueling 45 minute drive. and im also thatnkful because today, i've grown a little more out of my hollow shell.

A GOOD Friday

Reminiscing old times has always taken my breath away.

I left for Don Bosco Canlubang last March 21, Good Friday, to join the seminary community in celebrating Holy Week. After packing my things at gunpoint, my brother drove me to the bus station where I only had an hour and thirty to beat if i wanted to catch the 3 PM Veneration of the Cross. why was i rushing from Manila to Laguna at such a time? Obedience. I accepted a request of our Parish Priest to share a reflection on one of the Last Words of Christ: "Woman, behold your son... (Son,) behold your Mother."

Giving that talk was a blessing in disguise. Not because it was another crowning achievement, but because i needed that wake up call from the Mother of God herself. From the inside-out, it speaks of a time-tested relationship: that of a mother to her son and a son to her mother. And this was exactly what i needed.

Summing up my short sharing, i zeroed into the value of Commitment. specifically: Commitment to Jesus even in times of trial. You see, Mary and John were not just entrusted to each other, but Mary and John were, at the outset, in a place where they were not supposed to be: at the foot of the cross of a criminal. Mary's mere sight of Jesus should have her knees shudder with agony. The mere presence of an apostle to his master should have made John an easy target of suspicion. But they were both there, committed to their Lord even in the darkest and most terrifying of times.

Ironically, too, it speaks of my own sense of commitment. Do I know how to stand by Jesus at the foot of his cross? Whenever i choose sin to sacrifice, i abandon Jesus. Whenever i don't make relationships work, i disown my relationship with Him. Whenever i choose the easy way out instead of going through inevitable pains in life, I kiss Jesus goodbye and leave him for another false love.

This was the first of my realizations this day. the others were still to come as the day grew longer...

Grace made its way to me as i reached the gates of the school just in the nick of time, and safely. Actually i was a bit late, but i didn't miss any crucial parts yet. with hesitation, i disappeared into the crowd of seminarians and ex-seminarians like me, who were in the choir loft. a potion of inexpressible joy and anticipation gurgled in me as i smiled and curiously waved my accommodating hand once in a while to greet old acquaintances. I was there for a purpose, i whispered to myself. and it was to bring back life to my already-dying sense of Commitment to God.

As the cross was being unveiled in front of us, we sang, as we were made to. ever since i entered the seminary, Good Friday celebrations were my cup of tea, and these all slowly came back to me. "I used to be the one covering that cross..." "i used to be the one running here and there, orchestrating the movements of the servers and making sure everything was in place..." "i used to be a very big part of this..." And as i see things unfolding right before my eyes, the best and least thing i could do was to pray and relish the moment with Jesus.

We were supposed to "exit the church in silence," as the rubics indicated, but i couldn't help but get together with my batchmates, bestfriends, brothers who were there, sharing the same purpose with me. I, Marnel, Joseph, Edward, Ryan, Ronel, six from the original batch of sixteen, were all there to both catch up on the latest news and refresh their relationship with God. smiling faces were all around, even though a most solemn commemoration of the Suffering and Death of Christ had just preceded. With us together, we made our way to the Stations of the Cross and to the rest of the schedule.

The night grew darker as we joined the wake of the mother of our Rector, Fr. Rolo, which was in the bungalow adjacent to the Cogliandro House. I was able to once again relish my ties with Juvelan, my classmate in High School, who now happens to be one of the prenovices this year. I also had the chance to be with my classmates and just enjoy their company.

Recalling the many events of the day has made me quite tired. but just sitting down and 'being' made my day complete. i realized too that i didn't have to "be part of the action" to be able to feel the weight of things on me.

Looking at things again, Jesus was likewise "being" with the whole world when he suffered and carried that cross for us. and because of this, he was able to relish, feel, experience every part of our humanness in order to save us.

Dreaming Big...

This would be the "feel" of my Dream Bedroom... Enjoy!

Long overdue...

It's March, and the summer sun is starting to seep in.

Everyone knows that i no longer belong to the "hallowed" grounds of the seminary. i made my final decision and officially stepped out last February 2, complete with despedida parties and farewell wishes.

Tonight, one month and fifteen days after, i still am convinced that i made a God-blessed decision.

Flew so fast, time. And with it, silent moments, reflected events, budding acquaintances, lifelong friends, a feather on the hat, rare opportunities, a simple life.

Wow. i never thought i missed so much. but as the adage goes, when we close a door we open another. And true enough, i have been equally blessed with events which proved my capacity to do thus. i havent been well through my two-month break, but God has already given me a chance to work and make good use of myself and my expertise. i tutored a grade six student from International School and with it, brushed up on my college major. a little while after that, i was offered a post in Don Bosco Canlubang in the College English Department. in a little more than two weeks, i would be handling World Literature for their summer term. Not to be neglected, too, is my acceptance to a more permanent vocation in teaching in my High School alma mater. Come May, i would be part of their English Department, and would be battling nay, collaborating with the energetic yet infamous bosconians.

I have never had a need for speed. yet all these are taking me by surprise. well, i guess the meek, silent, opportunity-waiter Miguel has changed. Change being taken as a relative term.

On the sideline, i have also been engaged in studying how to drive. My two brothers are excellent AND very sarcastic driving instructors, which make them fit well with my driving skills (imagine the agony i go through!). I may be well underway in getting my first non-pro driver's license this week.
i have also been working out in the gym. i've been at it for a couple of weeks now, and you wouldnt believe the progress i'm making! (four pounds lost in every session -- WOW! ...and a hundred pounds gained in every meal!!) no, but seriously, thank God for our bodies! in a way, we really have something tangible to care for (that implies the necessity of spiritual workouts too!).
modesty aside, i have also been invited to give talks to various groups here and there. these boost my public-speaking skills, and are a good source of income if you fall under the Occupationally-Challenged category of the Young People of the Republic of the Philippines (in short, a bum).

well, i think this wraps up what has been "long overdue." i just needed to take a breather and put into writing the things which would definitely go down to the annals of history.

if this sounded egocentric, wait till you meet the author.

Nah, just kidding... he's a humble, silent, shy-type, (VOICE OVER fades into the background), G*d-feari*g, frie*dly, (VOICE OVER diminishes more), und*rst*nd*n**, c*r**ng, (TOTAL SILENCE...)

Toooot...

"From that time on...

...Jesus began to preach and say, "Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand."

These are not my words.
I copied it from Matthew, as he speaks of the beginnings of Jesus' Galilean mission in his Gospel.
But in so doing, i am making it Mine too.

The events were quick and unstoppable. during the last few weeks before our submission of our application letter, i was even very excited about what would happen in a few months time. Little did i know that God was preparing something more for me.
It so happened that a wake up call jolted me out of my dream mode, which, apparently i have been in all throughout these past years. the event (i should not mention details, lest my decision might take on a bad light) was a blessing in disguise and my saving grace. it was sooner than i thought that i realized only one thing: Have i really, concretely, convincingly made up my mind to become a Salesian, or am i still prancing around, hoping, one day to don the ego-enhancing cassock, take on the letters SDB, and walk home and say: "Look at me! I'm different now!"?
seriously, i know i haven't.
i haven't even thought about an alternative life if anything possibly goes wrong! i always thought, no, rather, i have always been made to think that this is the only life for me.
And taking this as the premise of everything, my motivations are still in that 'first year seminarian' stage, only now, justified in so many other ways.

This is where the roller coaster ride began.
I looked back at the nine months of "living the life" and i say, Gosh! i dont even think i'm enjoying this anymore (i dont want to hurt anyone in saying this, take this with a grain of salt, and read in- between the lines). of course i have been doing the most extraordinary things, experiencing the most unique of encounters, and have been taking on privileges that i never even thought a Salesian is entitled to have!
I read and re-read my novitiate journal, and i could tell you frankly, with evidence at hand, that since day One, i have been feeling ill about something. i could sense that something was wrong. It was a good thing that i was able to let pass nine months before coming to a conclusion, lest i would be living in a despondent subterranean desert, arid and cold, with no road to turn to.
I prayed and sought peace where it beckoned me. With God's grace and all of your prayers, i know that I have made the best decision i could make both in my life now and in the lives of the people around me.

Matthew's words, "From that time on..." is actually an antecedent to another line, which talks about the arrest of John the Baptist and Jesus' consequent loneliness. it reads: "When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee..."
a cause. an effect.
a missing. a mission.
an end. a new beginning.

i dont like the former, because im tired of hearing people say, "Sayang!" or "Bakit?" I think i'm well over those, and i want to be where i should be: at the start of something new.
thanks for hearing me out.
Lets pray for each other.