Another Turning Point (that is, if I Say Yes)

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"It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.  I hope you had the time of your life…"

So goes a song from Greenday. And as I listen to it, I wonder about how some things unpredictable have worked out in my life.

I'm a planner.  And an OC (obsessive-compulsive) one at that especially when it's my life that we're talking about.  More than my being a planner though is my being goal-oriented.  When I set myself to something, I must achieve this something no matter what.

When I was small, people asked me where I wanted to study and without batting an eyelash, I would confidently reply, "in UP."  Fast forward to six years and I had just become a freshman in State U.

My life plan also listed that by age twenty-eight, I should be a manager already and this too happened even earlier than planned as I was just twenty-five when I achieved my current position.

So single-minded I am that I almost always have just one option.  I refrain from having fallback plans just so I will do everything to make One-and-Only Plan A to happen and work for me.

But there are times when no matter my best efforts, things just don’t work out as planned.  Some of these things too do not even get dealt to me as life has given me a different set of cards than what I would have wanted.

I did not plan on getting a degree in Tourism and yet, I did.  I planned of working, even settling abroad by the time I was twenty-six and yet at twenty-eight, I am still here in my home country.

The above are just two of the most unpredictable things that happened to me but as that Greenday song said, these turned out to be for the best as my college degree enabled me to be in my current industry, which I love and my current company turned out to be my niche that a mere two years after being here, I gave up all plans of going abroad.

As I remember the above, I am also thinking of something unpredictable that happened to me yesterday that kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning.  As almost all things unpredictable are, this something entails me moving out of my comfort zones and confronting the unknown.  It requires a huge risk - something that I only calculatingly take.    

At this point, I still don't know if I am going to accept the offer as it's not included in my plans.  It's actually shaking my already very well-laid plans to the core that I'm now left looking at the loops and ends trying to see where it fits. 

And as I mentally map moving these pieces into what I hope are their rightful places, I realize that it is not the life pieces I have that matter.  It is what I do with them.

Happiness is not an Ending

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The pursuit of happiness.  I have come across this phrase quite a number of times.  And I wonder why.

Is it because most people think of happiness as something so elusive?  Many times, I have heard and read about people wanting to be happy.  Some even list it as their ultimate goal.

But I disagree.  As I have always said, happiness is a choice, albeit a more difficult one.  Happiness is also not a goal or an ending.  It is something we can achieve even while we embark on this adventure we call life.  We don't live because we want to be happy in the end.  We are happy simply because we live. 

As I celebrated my twenty-eight birthday recently, I give thanks to God for this wonderful blessing of my life.  And I give thanks too to and for my loved ones and friends - these people who add vibrancy to my already great life with the personal touch they put to it. 

Happiness is not an ending.  Surrounded by my loved ones, it is something I have always had.  It is something my parents showered me with from the time I was conceived.  It is something I see in their proud eyes and is also reflected in mine .  It is something I feel every time the family gets together.  Something my friends and I also share.

Happiness is the celebration of the person that I am.  It is reveling in my individuality and the appreciation I have for what I have been blessed with. 

Happiness is also the security I have in my rewarding career.  It is also in being able to travel and shop and indulge in my favorite food.  In being lost in a good book.  Or music.  Or being entertained by a movie.

But happiness is not just about the good things in life.  Happiness is also knowing that my tears of sorrow or pain have sprouted lessons that now guide my present and future.  It is growing up.

As I look back on what was and look forward to what will be, I remember the many happy birthdays I have been greeted with these past twenty-eight years.  

And I smile because indeed, it is a happy life I live.

Of Life and the Sea

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I was eight.  We were on a family outing and mommy was teaching me how to swim.  Both her hands supported my weight as she coaxed me to paddle.  I paddled as hard as I could.  We did this many times till my body ached.  And we did it again in our succeeding beach outings.

When she thought I could do it, mommy did not place her hands under my body lying facedown on the water and just said words of encouragement as I tried to support my weight on my own.  I sank.  But mommy was quick to haul me back into her arms.  She hugged me and tousled my hair to soothe me, all the while whispering words of encouragement.  But I shook my head, scared of again sinking while I struggled, helplessly flailing my hands as salty water made its way into my nose and mouth.

My fear of being in an open water heightened when during one of our beach outings, two teens from a nearby cottage drifted far away into the sea and had to be rescued by a boat.  Their family members were so sick with worry that some even wept as the boat was dispatched to look for them.  Once reunited, the teens said they slept while on a life buoy and woke up to find themselves in the middle of the sea. 

Despite their happy ending of being reunited with their family, their ordeal left an imprint of a great fear of the sea on me.  From then on, I made sure to wade but only waist-deep in the waters.  During outings, my companions who were in the deeper part of the sea would wave their hands invitingly but I would only go as far as to where the waters reached my neck.  And once there was an onslaught of waves, I would hurriedly go back to where the shore was, fearful of being tided over by those waves.

As these memories come to me now when I am faced with a great personal dilemma, I realize how I have been playing safe all along. 

From 2001 to 2005, I waded but only waist-deep in the waters, testing if it suited me.  Then one really big tide of a trial happened in 2005.  Confused, hurt and even angry, I retreated back into the shore and comfortably settled there for years.  I thought I was okay.  I thought I would always be okay there.  That to the shore was where I belong.  But in 2010, the water again beckoned to me.  Scared, I retreated farther back into where the land was but the water time and again called out to me.  I resisted but the more I did, the more I suffered.

And so I summoned all the logic in me to battle with what my heart wanted.  I wanted nothing of the water.  It was dark and deep and endless.  I did not know what awaited me there.  Waves crashed against it.  Anything on it either drifted somewhere else or got drowned.  The shore, meanwhile, remained a bastion of safety.  A haven where the water could only touch but not claim it. 

2011 came.  The water now more loudly called out to me.  I again summoned my logic to rationalize my response but it compromised with my heart by telling me to just wade waist-deep into the water and see how it would go...

I've been waist-deep in the water since and I must say it's something I am getting used to.  It's something I actually prefer but am scared of fully embracing.  I have even told myself that this is the perfect spot because here, I get the best of both worlds.  I am at sea but the shore is just a "swim" away.  If push comes to shove, if a big tide is coming, I can always head back to the shore.

Swim.  Using this word makes me realize that I never did learn how to swim.  And all because I have feared the water.  The water that has been calling out to me for the longest time now.  The water that I am so scared of fully committing myself to for fear of it again hurting me.

But as today's memories make me re-realize my fear of the water, as earlier said, it also makes me realize that if I continue standing on its shallow part, just like I missed learning how to swim, I will also miss what really is in store for me in it.  What I am really called to life to.

Yes, I either have to go back to the shore and stay there for good or risk it all and fully be enveloped in water.

I admit I have reservations.  I still have my fears.  But as André Gide wrote, "Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."

Courage

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It takes courage to admit what I do not know. But this admission is the first step to learning.

It takes courage to admit that I am scared. But this fear starts to dissipate the moment I acknowledge my fear. For the greatest of fears is borne from not knowing. And courage is knowing and confronting that fear.

It takes courage to admit that I am wrong. But something or someone cannot be corrected unless it has been acknowledged that a mistake was made. And being wrong sometimes paves the way to doing what is right.

It takes courage to admit that I am helpless in some ways and in need of help. But it is through this that I learn how to value other people. We are interconnected individuals and I cannot exist as one.

It takes courage to admit that I am proud. But this is my first step to humility for the height of arrogance is when one is too full of himself and yet too proud to admit it. And this I refuse to happen to me.

It takes courage to embrace change. For comfort zones are called such because there is security in what is certain. But it is when we let go of our certainties that we open ourselves to possibilities.

It takes courage to trust. To love. To hope. To live. For life will always be wrought with risks and challenges. And courage is about conquering these.

It takes courage to admit that I lost. In my struggles to triumph over love and life’s challenges, I sometimes stumble and fall. But it is in these losses that I learn that courage is also about trusting in my self even when things become overwhelming. It is proving my resilience to the world.

It takes courage to be different. But courage is basically about finding that strength to go against the tide and just revel on being one’s own self regardless of what other people say.

Courage. It is what makes the vulnerable invulnerable.

Expecting the Worst

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Gil Grissom: It is interesting to me how you always expect the worst.

Catherine Willows: You see that way, I’m never disappointed, and sometimes, I’m nicely surprised.

I was six. I wanted a puppy for Christmas. I did not get it and I was hurt. The fact that I expected my Christmas present to be a puppy and get dresses, toys and money instead made the disillusionment even more painful.

I was ten. I was reading Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame and expecting a good ending for Esmeralda and Quasimodo. Their death thus unnerved me. I was disappointed.

I was sixteen. I thought the friendship I was sharing with a really nice guy would blossom into something more. It did not and thinking about it later only brought me sadness.

I was eighteen and a junior in college. I studied so hard for an exam. I pored over every book we used as reference, even did further readings and research in the school library and on the Internet. I fervently hoped I would pass. Days after, the results were posted in the college’s bulletin. I did not pass.

The list of my hopes and expectations getting reduced to painful losses is innumerable. Hearing the above verbal exchange from two of CSI’s main characters thus made me think. Will it be better if I align my way of thinking with Catherine’s? Will it spare me from needless disappointments and hurt?

In college, one of my closest friends once told me that I am a hopeless optimist. I laughed. She then added half-jokingly that hopefuls are often fools.

Is it foolishness to believe that things will turn out good? Do pessimists fare better in this world?

I remember the time when I expected the worst of something. It was when I took the UPCAT (University of the Philippines College Admission Test). A couple of weeks before the results were out, I was already conditioning my mind that I failed and bracing myself for it. UP, after all, is the country’s premier and most sought after university that getting in is considered a rare privilege. It was thus a very pleasant surprise to find out that I passed. It was so unexpected it was exhilarating, especially when it dawned on me that I did not just pass. I made it to Diliman, UP’s flagship campus.

I keep on thinking of the reasons why I should shed my optimism. And I have just decided that I will never let go of it. Why? Because it is my optimism that has saved me countless of times from being devoured by life’s negativities. It is my shield, the one thing that keeps me from turning into a completely bitter cynic and saves me even from my own self.

Yes, I get hurt. And disappointed. I am sometimes frustrated because things do not come out as I hope. Because I expect better results but have gotten something less. But you know what, I think it’s better this way as it makes me a believer. In myself. In other people. In the nobility of the human spirit and man’s capacity for faring better when confronted with the harsh realities of life.

I expect to succeed and I sometimes fail. But the reason why I expect to succeed is the thought that I am up to the challenge. I do not expect to lose as I know I can and will do better.

When people have done something bad, I do not automatically assume the worst of them because I give them better credit. I trust their capacity to do well and be good. Certain circumstances may drive some people to do something bad or be bad but I refuse to let this handful of people taint my faith in the entire humanity of my race.

Things sometimes do not go as planned or hoped for but in these instances, I learn patience, flexibility and resilience. I learn to appreciate blessings in disguise and value them for what they are.

And in times when things are at their worst and I am on the verge of giving up, it is my optimism that makes me see beyond life’s current difficulties. That I may strive to do better, be better. It is this optimism that cloaks me in courage so I will come out triumphant in life’s challenges.

Optimists are not fools. Fools are those who opt to give up without a fight. They are the ones who wallow in feelings of despair instead of finding the courage within their selves to bounce back higher despite stumbling down many times. Fools are those who chose to end their lives just because they thought there was nothing else that could be done. That they had seen the end of days and there was no hope left for them.

I am no fool. And so come what may, I will always choose to see the brighter side of life.

Scar(R)ed No More

I have this perennial fear of failing. For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid to fail not just myself but other people as well, especially my loved ones.

I know there are times when failing is inevitable. It is simply a part of life. Reality would not have been clearly delineated if we do not experience failure at some points of our lives. But what I really fear is the disappointment my failure would cause to anyone. It pains me to be disappointed by the people I believe in and so I try so hard, do my best, to live up to their expectations, no matter how high these expectations are. Or sometimes, how silly.

When I was in high school, one of my life’s utmost humiliations transpired. You see, I was a consistent honor student since my nursery years. I always did well in school, even excelled in almost all my subjects, except Math. I always belonged to the top section but this was only until my 3rd year in high school as in my senior year, I was put in section 2. I was aghast. Mad, even. Mad is actually an understatement as in a phase of raging hormones and blatant rebellion, hate prevailed. I hated the school’s system. And some teachers, especially the principal. I hated some classmates. Hated almost everyone, even my family. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated and blamed myself for letting a lot of people down. For letting myself down.

The event left me scarred. And scared. Of failing. Of it happening again. Of disappointing people. And then hating and blaming myself for it. From then on, I did my damnedest to always excel in everything. If prior to the incident I was already an achiever, after it, I was more so it was scary as I seemed to be obsessed with always coming out a winner in each and every event I allowed myself to participate in. Allowed being the operative word as from then on, I took only calculated risks. I was so hellbent on achieving success that if there were what they call the cream of the crop, I wanted to be the cream of the cream of the crop.

Looking deep down into myself, I realized that aside from not wanting to disappoint my loved ones, I fear failure because I equated success with people’s capacity for love. I thought that if I fail, my loved ones will love me less. Or that my peers will not like me just as much. Such utterly stupid rationale. Because for these past years, no matter how many times I have been let down by my loved ones, I love them just the same. I even love them more in their times of failure as in those times, they are in utmost need of love. Of the reassurance that their worth does not diminish when life deals them with one of its blows. That they are loved and accepted as they are, no matter what, come what may.

Disappointments and failure do hurt. But in the past years, I learned that like failure, disappointment is as much a part of our lives as breathing. That for each endeavor we take, there is the possibility of failing and feelings of disappointment are just but natural reaction to it. Life is a gamble and if we do not make the first move of taking the risk, we cannot win.

I am no longer bound by failure’s ties. I expunge any fear I have of it. It may have left its scars on me but the scars are gradually healing.

I am also no longer scared. I am now free. From this point on, I will allow myself the total freedom to stumble once in a while. Each experience has its lessons for us and in some cases, failure is often the best teacher.

I embrace any possibility of failure. For I am scarred with and scared of it no more.

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Of letting people be...

How come we always put restrictions on other people simply because these restrictions have been somehow imposed on ourselves? We very well know that we have no right. And yet, we keep on expecting people to be like us, to do exactly the same things we do. We keep on hoping they would change for us, to live their lives like we do ours. Or at least try to.

When I was in college, I had a friend who was my sounding board. Almost every week, I would see her and tell her my frustrations - about how a groupmate could not be depended on because her research always came out sloppy... About how I got mad at another friend because she was late and the always punctual me waited for a long time... I would nag this sounding-board friend about how most people could not understand me. And I too could not understand them. I would wonder how they could allow themselves to be careless. Or to not choose to be reliable and dependable... how they could allow mediocrity to rule their lives thus leaving people like me no choice but to make up for their ineptness.

One day, after an especially frustrating day for me, my friend gave me the answer to all my questions. And more. She simply said, "Because they are not you, Lai."

Struck, I just stared at my friend. "I am not going to say anything anymore," she said. "Just ponder on those words."

Later, alone in the confines of my room, I got my pen and my journal. I wanted to write. I badly needed to write. I needed answers. But nothing came to mind. And my friend's words kept playing inside my head.

Because they are not you... Because they are not you... Because they are not you... because they are not you...

I knew I wasn't confused. I knew exactly what my friend meant. I was just in denial - for so long a time. Pondering on her words, something I read once also came back to mind. "Great athletes make lousy coaches."

Admittedly, I had it easy all my life. I remember acing quizzes and exams even when I did not study hard. I excelled in almost anything. I was what they say the perennial achiever. Having shown such abilities, I thus lived a life of expectations. I grew up with an acute sense of people always expecting me to succeed in any endeavor I take... And I imposed the same expectations on people I came across with.

I would think: If I can be on time, why can't she be? If I can make my research or papers detailed, how come hers are not? Why can't they be as meticulous? How come I am always the one who is expected to do this and that?

The answer? It's all on the I. The Me. And the mine... I am me. And s/he is the person that s/he is.

And in some endeavors, it is me who does the work because I can. And s/he cannot.

Can I sing well? I cannot. Can I solve complicated Math problems? I cannot. Can I dance or act or paint? I cannot. And the list goes on and on...

Each one has his or her level. Thus I should not make them perform on my level. Each one has his and her own personality. And I have mine. And this personality makes us who we are. It defines our differences. And it is these differences that make us unique from others.

Lastly, each person is his and her own self. Thus I have no right to change a person just as no one has the right to make me conform to the person that they want or expect me to be.

And so, just as I yearn for people to let me be, I give them the same freedom to be themselves.

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Life is too short...

Life is too short for me to live it recklessly, thoughtlessly or wastefully. Thus, in each and every day of my life, I find numerous reasons to live life meaningfully and to its full extent.

Life is too short for me to procrastinate. When an opportunity comes knocking on my door, I embrace it if it is worth embracing. As much as possible, I do not leave any word unsaid or deed undone.

Life is too short for me to live it regretting my wrongdoings. The past is over and done with and so I must not dwell on but learn from it. What matters is the gift of the present, the hope of the future.

Life is too short for me to live it in sorrow, bitterness or anger. Happiness is a choice. I grieve when necessary but knowing that the world will never stop for my grief, I move on. Anger is self-destructive. It shortens one’s life span.

Life is too short to take short cuts. I live each day feeling each emotion fully and savoring each experience passionately no matter how mundane it may seem. It is what I do with it that makes each experience extraordinary.

Life is too short to hasten its pace. Thus, I let things run their natural course. Forcing things to happen destroys the very existence of surprises. There is beauty in the spontaneity of things. Patience pays.

Life is too short and so I make the most of it.

Amidst the Harsh Realities of Life

Life can sometimes be too demanding,
Confusing and complicated,
Even cruel – Loss of a loved one,
Betrayal of a friend,
Rejection from someone,
Pressures around us,
Constant challenge of choices,
Man’s never ceasing wants and complaints,
His insatiable thirst and hunger for money, power and fame,
Bigotry, Pride and Selfishness,
Trials and Hardships,
Complexities and Contradictions,
Pains, Fears and Doubts,
Competitions, Oppositions and Self-struggle…
But amidst all those
Two overpowering truths sustain me:
One is that God is always looking after me,
No matter what
He knows and wants only the best for me
And is gradually molding me
To become what He wants me to be
Gold and silver are fashioned through the fire
And I through trials and sufferings
And two is that you are with me
The very person who is God’s instrument of love
A friend, a mentor, a sister and more…
The gentleness and beauty
Amidst the harsh realities of life…
Is you, my dearest.

Love Incarnate

We live in a world where crimes happen every day
People hurt each other and endless problems and worries
Beset us.

Sometimes, I feel like everything is just too much for me to bear
And all I wanted is for the world to stop
And for me to gracefully fade into oblivion
But when I think of you, the once dreary world
Automatically becomes bright and sunny
It becomes a world of love and beauty,
Of joy and hope.

I used to be cynical about love
For I believed it is only for those who are fools
I had too much pain and even rejections to last a lifetime
Thus, to believe in love then
Was like believing in something nonexistent
Something I could not grasp
Something intangible
And I didn't want that
For then, I believed only in what I see and have.

And so for years I stood my ground about love's nonexistence
Until you came along...
You taught me to love and I learned
And finally I believed.

I still get hurt and problems still beset me
But knowing that you are with me I can smile
I can even laugh at the world
For I know life is just making the most of me
And there are lessons to be learned
In each problem that I face
And I also know that there are people in my life
People like you
Who believe in me and love me
And guide me as I journey through life.

For everything that you are and for each kind word and deed
For all things so wonderful that no words can describe,
My heartfelt gratitude.

You are love incarnate.