Little Infinities

How much one can make out of life? With one sunrise to sundown? Probably not much when all we attempt to do is to make sense out of life in the purview of the hurried routine of accumulating more and achieving more and wanting more. We think that the value of life is measured in the quantity. We confuse quality time with busy schedules and all. But what if life isn't just comprise of 24-hour frantic cycles of self-centered to do lists? That there is actually something more? That YOLO is a myth, and that we're here to last?

Life is made up of moments lived upon the grace of the Divine. It is an experience of God's unending favor. And when life is viewed in the lens of eternity, what we have each sunrise to sundown are little infinities gifted to us by an infinitely loving God.

"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Psalm 90:12)

Here be warriors

There will be that place that you always want to return to. Where every sunset is more sublime than anywhere else; where nights are grander and the skyline patterned with glittering cosmic objects carry a greater meaning; where silence speaks deeper to the soul and where solitude is a profound experience of the physical and the metaphysical becoming one.

You will always be a place I'd like to return to.

LAYF to the fullest!

This is a picture I took from the upper deck of the CLSU auditorium right after our first youth fellowship this semester last August 19. The sight of hundreds upon hundreds of students and youth waving excitedly at the camera's direction is truly heartwarming, knowing that earlier, these students were passionately praising and worshiping the Most High King.

It was only the first LAYF meet up this new semester, and youth hungry for God came in troves--500 plus of them. I was hyped to know that this is now happening in our generation. And God is not finished yet.

I can't keep but burst with gladness. 

Alright, I cried. But I managed to snap a shot before tears came and my heart break gloriously one more time.

10th

Ten awesome years and counting! :)

This June marks my 10th year in Nueva Ecija. Here in CLSU, specifically. And what can I say? No one's getting young? Haha.

Hindi biro ang isang dekadang lumipas. Ten years was enough to define a life, a dream, an ambition. Ten years was enough to test the quality of a belief, a principle, a character. It was enough to truly identify what matters and what doesn't.

So, I'd like to celebrate the awesome decade that was by embracing another phase of my warrior journey--moving ahead, higher, deeper and stronger than ever! I'd like to celebrate the journey by looking back with a thankful heart, and looking ahead with so much anticipation. I'm hyped right now to continue this pursuit of what romanticists often say as "meaningful existence", and to never get enticed with something less.

With God, I am in for more!

And to you LORD, who has done immeasurably and beyond what I can ask or imagine; who has done great things; who has freely given more than what is deserved--thank you for the last ten years!

Ten awesome years in CLSU (of studying and working and walking around its beautiful campus which I will never get tired of falling in love with);

ten awesome years in Nueva Ecija (should I declare myself as Novo Ecijano already?);

ten awesome years of working for the Lord in the ministry (of finding meaning and hope and purpose with eternal value);

ten awesome years of being with great and wonderful people who never get tired of my cheesy-ness and tantrums and wild tendencies and hyper-romanticized notion of true love (Lol);

ten awesome years of God's faithfulness in so many ways that I am at a loss for words to describe. I can only say thank You, thank You, thank You!

Cheers to the next awesome years ahead!

Great Teacher Ponti

(google image)

Yesterday, I had a short but profound chance encounter with the legendary sir Ponti, one of my greatest teachers and mentors in CLSU. I say "greatest" not to render a cliche but to convey a reality. I say "mentor" not to make a cute statement but to make a fitting description of what he was (and is) to me.

We were both riding our motorcycles when we crossed paths at the intersection road near the CLSU Chapel where he'd turned right and I'd turned left. He was with his little daughter. We stopped for a brief chat. And since we were in the middle of a busy intersection, we only had the chance to ask each other how's it going.

I am more than happy to meet him after a long time. When I was hired to teach at the department of Social Sciences after my graduation, I had the chance to work alongside him for one semester. It was such a privilege. But shortly thereafter, he went out to study and finish his masters. Not that he still needed it, but university protocols require it. Some people don't need multiple degrees to be able to teach, and teach effectively. For me, what sir Ponti teaches from his big heart is more than sufficient. It is larger than life.

When he came back to teach at the university just last semester, I was already out of the academe and into a new work. I didn't realize it until that meeting yesterday that I was not able to inform him that I already left.

The student left without telling the master.

"Balita ko nasa PhilRice ka na?", he asked in his usual booming and fatherly voice.

"Yes sir", was all I can say. 

I know he was about to tell a story but we were in an awkward place and we're both going somewhere. So he just said with full affirmation, "Sige pagbutihan mo ha." And it took just that to calm the dragons of doubt.

The teacher, indeed, has appeared.

And here's the incurable romanticist student, again.

Well, it's not a romanticized cum intellectualized narrative. That simple encounter was profound not because of some engaging intellectual conversation and down-to-earth discussion of some philosophical issues as is characterized by sir Ponti's classroom lectures; but it was profound because of the honest sincerity that characterizes his life.

What I like best, or better admire, about sir Ponti is his down-to-earth persona that just tugs into you. His positive sense of self is contagious enough to make you feel sure about yourself as well. His sincere appreciation of talent and honest affirmation of strengths will make one defy even his or her greatest limitation. He was one of the reasons why I didn't want to remain a mediocre student who, according to him, has "a boring existence". I loved being a SocSci since then.

Plus, I'll never forget his engaging classroom teaching style. That classic, legendary helluva adventure in Philosophy which becomes alive at his words and descriptions and narratives. His lectures are a journey in itself. There's no better way of learning. His distinct teaching style was highly affecting.

It was a style I tried to emulate when I became a teacher myself. Simple but profound. And full of heart.

And thanks to the great teacher Ponti, I had such a wonderful teaching experience that will be cherished and remembered.

For as long as the dragons live, the student, who have now become a warrior, shall press on.

By the thousands

This photo was taken during our first LAYF (Lakas-Angkan Youth Fellowship), at the CLSU Auditorium. We've decided in December last year to relocate to a larger place because the church facility at the NIA-CLSU can not anymore contain the growing number of regular attendees. God is really multiplying this generation by the hundreds!

And indeed, that first LAYF in auditorium, God showed up, and He didn't disappoint. We can not contain the overwhelming joy we felt when we saw huge numbers of youth who came to seek Jesus. We almost filled the main hall of the 2,500-seater CLSU auditorium. God is able to give us the campus by the thousands! 

I remember that night, I was at the back together with some of the youth leaders, our ates and kuyas, and we just fell silent, watching God's spectacle. Our eyes were swelling with tears, and when we can't anymore contain the joy, raised our hands and jumped and danced in celebration. Is this what God meant when He said He is able to win this generation? 

When you can see before your eyes what great things God is doing in this generation of young people, you can really be assured that He is capable of doing more. And I am convinced even more that this is where God is calling us--this stewardship of future leaders and prime movers of the community. If we are going to impact the future of our nation, we have to do it now and we have to do it in the campus.

The Christian minister Frederick Buechner said in that famous quotation: "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." I now appreciate that even more, now that the trajectory of my life has been altered by the grace of Him who promised that He can finish whatever He has started in me. I can see myself in no other calling than the one before me. I believe that God will be there to affirm and to deliver!

Semper Fidelis

My beloved Alma Matter: to whom I am thankful for so many things :)

True-blue CLSUan

CLSUan: [noun] (1) a student of Central Luzon State University; (2) breed of intelligent and talented students coming from different cultural settings and political leanings, and religious upbringings who are raised and nurtured in the 658-hectare CLSU campus—capable of surviving in the wild and during extreme conditions; (3) a daring, critically minded individual noted for great defiance to deteriorating system; (4) a rebel to apathy and societal indifference committed in changing the status quo—mild yet tolerant; (5) an absolute synonym to the Filipino proverb, “Pag-asa ng bayan.” (Marvin’s Personal Dictionary)

I have many stories to tell. But journalists, as they say, are not always given the right to begin their news stories with “once upon a time in a kingdom far away”, and end it with “and they live happily ever after…” But since this is not a news story; and I seldom consider myself as a serious journalist (perhaps in the future when I finally decide to pursue journalism instead), maybe this space could bear something like…

Once upon a time in a kingdom called CLSU…

C.L.S.U.

 Five long, happy, and turbulent years in this university has given me the chance to ponder at the immensity of those letters; too great to even describe how those four letters, when put together, can change someone else’s life—or destiny if you may. It changed mine. CLSU, for me, is not only a chain of letters which mean Central Luzon State University. Well, some people would agree with me that it goes further than that. It means more than that.

This is CLSU: you enter its gates the first time and see that it overwhelms you. The imposing environment reminds you that your carefree high school life has ended. You remember the first time you walk around the campus, marveling at the green surroundings and think for a second whether it was actually a park (a forest perhaps) or a school you’re in. Then you take a place at the dormitory because your uncle tells you that it is the best place to stay in the campus. You find out that your roommates were very different from you—from different places, with different upbringings, and with different attitudes. 

Then on your first night at the dorm, when you are on your bed alone—away from the comfort of your own home and family—you can’t help but feel distressed on what lies ahead. You feel restless throughout the night. You wake up agitated, and realize that it was still dawn, terrified at the coming of a new day.

Then on the first day of the class, you stand up and introduce yourself: “Hi! My name is….blah blah blah” Then you tell your story, hoping to get an audience. You begin to have friends from “the other world”. You smile at the person beside you and say, “Kamusta? Tiga-saan ka nga ulet?” as if you really mean it because in reality you are just trying to make an impression. Then you identify with the ones whom you feel more comfortable with, you begin to laugh with them. 

At the end of the day, you realize that these people are not really that much different from you—that you and “them” are just the same, somewhat interconnected. And you finally realize that you have that incomprehensible yet tangible thing in common, something which you can share together.

Then on the following night at the dorm, when you are there lying on your bed, away from the comfort of your own home and family, that you can not wait to greet another dawn, and welcome the start of a new day…. And by then you know that in every waking dawn in this kingdom far away called CLSU, that everyday can be as beautiful as you want it to be.

Welcome to college, boy, you murmur to yourself with a smile…

Not another fairytale story

That story above is something that I am familiar with. It’s my story after all. Years come and go, and I knew I can’t make a fairytale story out of life. Only because the plot was not always pleasant, the characters—the protagonists and the antagonists—are not always knitted together to help the hero “find himself”, like Sinbad who explored the Seven Seas come hell or high waters.

Truth is, we want a perfect story for our lives. But, to use a cliché, life is not a fairytale. I wonder how it feels to be a kid again. Free. Sincere. Hakuna matata, as Pumbaa the warthog in the Lion King exclaimed. It means no worry. But then you always need to wake up and see the real thing: gone are the days when the world was still young and was less perilous to live in. Now, the world has so much changed—or at least mine have never been the same way again.

You need to wake up, like the boy in the Alchemist who wakes up every morning to find his purpose for existence. You need to grow, as people so love to tell you. You need to buy some doze of maturity at the next hardware shop if need be, my high school teacher once screamed in my face, much to my shame. I have never forgotten that since. When I entered college, I realized how much doze of maturity I actually needed to buy in order to survive. Or how much sanity I should muster so that I would not breakdown at the end of the day.

Life is like a box of chocolate, said Forrest Gump. You get what you pick. But man, did I learn otherwise.  My father once told me that I must be responsible for the decisions I made. He said it to me one time when I admitted to them that their first child—and the first grandchild in both of my maternal and paternal grandparents—will not be a biologist after all. You need to stand on your ground, take hold of it…you surrender now; you surrender everything, my father wanted to imply. I learn a lot from him, and he’s not even a philosopher.

I tried to not surrender in all things as much as possible. I only did so in a few things: one, to let go of the things not mine; and two, to surrender to God and believe that amidst the disenchanted philosophy of this world—God is real, and His righteousness always endures. People and circumstances may be challenging, but everything is wonderful only because God is: semper fidelis—always and will always be faithful.

(And since I seem to be exhuming age-old write ups, here's another. This was actually my last opinion-ed article published in the CLSU Collegian on its March 2010 issue. Why so sentimental? Haha. Ga-graduate na kasi ako niyan. Cheers!)

The Only Thing That Matters

It was Thursday last week and having been caught by flu because of the erratic weather that I decided to leave the university and go home to my province. I thought to myself that it won’t be too much of a crime to leave my paper works (piles of them) in CLSU and relax a little. Besides, I badly need to unwind. Never been home in a long time. And I totally missed the gang at home; especially the kids—my 4-months old nephew and 2-months old cousin.

Well, home for me is a great place to retreat and to re-evaluate realities. Pondering my life within the back-draft of family gives me a clearer picture of what should it be like; of what I’m missing out; of what necessary steps I must take to get there. And indeed, there’s no other effective motivation for “getting there” than family pressure: gentle and compelling. I love my family:)

Though our family (or “the gang” as I fondly call them) is expanding with the recent addition of two new babies in the house, I cannot help but notice that something is lacking in the picture. The house felt a little empty these days. Perhaps I just missed the days when we were still complete; those times when my other aunt’s family were still within our family compound (I think one of the biggest in the area) and we still share the same house which we may consider as our ancestral house—our axis; the center which holds our family together. Perhaps it has lost some cheerfulness and innocent rumblings that has filled the house when my younger cousins were still there, that is before they totally move in to their house in Pampanga. And how it feels significantly different without my little cousins’ childish intrusions to my private reverie! Just when I exactly needed distractions especially on times like these.

Okay, so what’s the crux of this highly personal and melancholic rant? I seem to mature slowly—oh yeah that’s the crux! But I honestly feel secure and absolutely comfortable when my family is around. It seems that five years of studying in college and three years of teaching in which I am forced to be away from my family—I have not yet fully acquired the necessary strength to go beyond my comfort zones. I am still at a constant loss for strength when it comes to change. My deep aversion to sudden transition which puts me off-guard has been a weakness I’m trying to overcome.

It is just that moving on is an element of life that I have yet to master. Let’s just say for now that I am still freaked out by changes—and that, moving on—although I have already been accepting a lot of changes in my life for the last eight years since I studied and taught in college. Some of them actually were painful and staggeringly unbearable to accept, but looking back, I did come through them—or still in the process of coming through them. And I’ve decided for myself that I would move on and come out stronger and better person despite the odds and complications in my life.

I admire those people who do not flinch with the slightest thought of change. It’s as if I am the only one who is afraid of the reality of time and space. What happened to my logic was just as bewildering to me as my confusion to determine reality from illusion, or truth from fiction. Maybe I am just too careless and unconscious of my own existence that’s why things do not seem to make sense at all.

Isn’t it funny how I’m able to pinpoint my own mistakes and weaknesses and every other things that strangle me, yet I can not find the guts to release myself so that I may breathe? I know my shortcomings and where my misgivings are, but it tortures me to get rid of them completely.

I have already tried to leave behind what were unnecessary to my existence, and even though I know they still lurk somewhere near, waiting for my attention, I will never return to them. Perhaps it would be hard for me in the long run to leave some things that already defined my being—but it’s worth the shot. It’s not with these things that will define me, or my future, or yeah, my destiny.

And I don’t want these unnecessary things to take over the life in me.

The warrior in me will overcome. That's the only thing that will matter in the end.

This side of paradise

Here I am in my favorite spot of the house. The smell of instant coffee and the birds singing outside while they take refuge in low-lying branches of trees and railings gives me the idea that I'm still here--alive and ready to face another day.

The sun is gradually rising over the horizon; its rays illuminating the earthly splendor of the Lingap Kalikasan Park, our home since we relocated here more than a month now. And I like it here: the stillness of the place, the imposing environment, its cobbled roads. I like the smell of the air in the morning, while dew still covers an endless carpet of grass lawns. I like the sound of mahohany leaves ruffling in the breeze, just as if a storm is on the way.

Everyday here is like waking up in paradise. I like myself here.

Winds of Change

(Since "throwbacks" are trending in social networking sites these days and I have been busy digging up files on my computer, I thought it will not hurt if I throw in my share. This one is an opinion article I wrote for the CLSU Collegian, the student publication and the organization which consumed all my childish frustrations and dreams of becoming a writer. It is on its original version. Man, I miss the olden times...)

Four years and seven semesters ago, I identified myself as someone who would be doing great in the university. I saw myself as someone who would be enjoying every opportunity of being in college, of having the chance to learn from this renowned institution. I saw myself as someone who would be fulfilling every expectations that I brought in my luggage when I left home to earn what other people consider to be a vital survival kit in this dog-eat-dog world—a college diploma.

It is still vivid in my reminiscences what I want to achieve, what I am going to pursue, and on what path I would be walking through—a path that would lead me to fulfillment, and what else but a chance to have that happy and contented life I think of?

In going to this university, not by chance but by my own choice, I knew I would never get nearer to my dreams if I still look for somewhere else. Of course, there are better universities out there but I simply realize then, that I did exactly the right choice. I need not to weigh my fate or destiny (if indeed there are such, but I believe in them) with the mistakes I fear am going to make if I fail, but on the choices I would be regretting eventually if I would not consider them. Thus, I chose to be here.

It would be great for me if I did pursue my only chosen course I put in my application form when I applied to this university a few years back. There was no turning back for me then. I was in second year high school when I'd obsessively fix my eyes to an imaginary sheet of paper called diploma with the degree I once craved for to have scribbled in it—Bachelor of Science in Biology. I was totally excited to get out of high school and grab the piece of cake reserved for me in college.

That was how I met my first family here in the university—the S-1. I almost said I would never find any other like them because it was ideal for me to have such wonderful people no matter how diverse we've been in a lot of ways: in culture, upbringing, ideas, passions, and even religion. But who cares with the differences and diversities of people and beliefs? We all are different in a lot of ways but we still co-exist despite of it. 

Differences, I learned, is a tangible phenomenon we may likely to experience given the fact that we are not all living the same lives; that we are not walking on the same feet. Nevertheless, it could be overshadowed if only we acknowledge that after all, we were sharing a common ground. That is ideal, I suppose, but I think we need not be an intelligent individual to understand what common ground that is.

Although I can say I did good during those first two semesters in a science bloc (and enjoyed it), I was really left in a collision between what I wanted before and what I want this time. The winds of change had swept me from my decision to pursue my intended course to choosing another that perhaps only time and destiny could judge if I did chose the right path. Would I be willing to spend my life in the laboratory? Could I really be experiencing life and what could fulfill me by just peering into a microscope, scrutinizing an apathetic organism? I believed that was the most exciting thing to pursue because I loved doing that, and as I said, I was dying hard to grab that opportunity. But never did I imagine that I would really be sacrificing that dream; never did I realize that I could actually give up what I loved to do, in exchange to what I really want to become.

Thus, by a sudden twist of fate, I ended up with my present course in field of Social Sciences. I cannot anymore recount how I came up with my course, but sure, I can remember my reasons for doing such. I think it would take much time for people to understand them, but it would be mine to go on with my convictions.

I supposed to have learned so many things by now. Yeah, right, after living in this university—which I would always consider a home—for almost four years now, I was supposed to be what I intended to be by this time; or nearer to it, at least.

Only time knows how much fulfillment I already had during these years; and how much frustrations I already encountered, and perhaps, survived. If destiny would still allow me to look back to it when the time comes that I could no longer remember them, then I would be grateful that I did just what I wanted to do.

I am not saying this because I’m already leaving this university for good. I am saying this because, perhaps, I would be staying in this university a little while longer than I was expected to. Yes, and for whatever reasons, I might not finish my course exactly at the intended time, but I am sure, it will be at the right time.

Someone said that we live in a constant struggle with change. I agree with it because I believe that as human beings, we do not always want to be stuck up in a corner and just wonder why.

I know I still have to go far to realize everything I have dreamed of—but not too far.

I am only grateful for the fact that there are people out there who continue to forge my belief.

I am grateful for the fact that not all people are apathetic and closed-minded.

I am grateful for the fact that not all people break you; there are people who are willing to build you up.

I am most grateful for the fact that when I can no longer endure the hardest of the most hard, there are people who selflessly reach out a hand to carry me.

Lastly, I will always be grateful that the way things have been, do not necessarily mean that's the way they will always be.

Transitions

More than three weeks ago, we bid goodbye to our home for two years in the UNDP St. CLSU, and moved in to a new house at the university’s outskirts in Lingap Kalikasan Park.

The change was rather unanticipated. Carlo, my ever reliable and loyal BFF (insert smiley here, please) gave the idea of moving out when his boss at the company and our Cell Leader, Kuya James, offered their new CLSU house for boarders. Thinking that it would be a great idea to start the coming semester, and that it would better complement my current season of personal transitions (alam na!), I decided to join. No, I actually insisted on this.

All the King's men fixing and preparing their new lair. Lol.

So for the next several days, me and Carlo, together with the rest of the former Joshua Generation guys (we now call ourselves Gideon men, haha, nag-mature konti) Jhonder and Jed, who also decided to join the bandwagon and spend their remaining semesters with us and in a new home, kept ourselves busy preparing the house for immediate relocation. In between office work and enrollment procedures, we did painting jobs, carpentry, interior designing, plumbing, excavating, and exorcism. No, the last thing was a joke.

I don’t know what made me decide to leave the comfort of our home in UNDP street and move into the far-away jungle called “Little Baguio” or Lingap—the name of which CLSU students have given horrible connotations. Of course if you’ve been with CLSU long enough then you’re already familiar with tales of ghosts and walking dead haunting the area; and stories of students and sweethearts “making it out” under the mahogany trees during the stillness and coldness of the night.

Oh no, I didn’t moved in for the sake of the adventure of haunting people—or ghosts—just for the fun of it. I don’t pry (usually) into people’s businesses, and I’m old enough to still be scared and fascinated by ghosts. A walking dead is an entirely different matter though. LOL.

Well, aside from deciding to move out because it seems that I just can’t live without Carlo around me (hahaha!), personally there’s something more to that. See, I am the type of person who seems to have that deep aversion to change. I admit that no matter how I’ve been oriented to changes—the political and the social—the personal and the emotional is what demotivates me. It is paralyzing when there’s a sudden change and I don’t have the necessary strength or will to adjust. And it is very ironic that while I lecture my students the necessity of change in the society, here I am indulging myself in hypocrisy, and wishing that change is not a reality for me. But then again, when you can’t negotiate with reality no matter how harsh it could be, you go with its flow. You have to adapt. You have to accept.

And that’s what led me to this new place, new home, new chapter…all waiting for me to fill with memories, and to write with different stories. Much different, or maybe far better than the one we left behind.

Transitions.

I have been fascinated by this word recently when I have come face to face with the reality of temporariness of all things; that things do not last. Chief of them food and drinks. Haha.

Seriously though, nothing is ever permanent in this world as you’ve heard a thousand times. Not a name, or a career; not even friendship, or a relationship, or romantic love (Hashtag ohyeahbaby!). Why, life itself is temporary! It is ephemeral and there’s no denying that. And while we are still alive and breathing, we will constantly be surrounded by transitions whether we break down and howl. Life is a constant shift of moving out and moving in.

I’m currently in that season of transition, and whether I like it or not, I have to accept that as a tangible reality. Well, someone very important to me moved out just recently. I don’t know if she’s moved out of my life permanently or she’s coming back someday—all I know is that I have to move out as well. All I know is that I have to embrace this transition as a friend and never allow it to suffocate me or derail my future. All I know is that I have to accept this and move on. Oh men, that’s the proper word for it, right? Hashtag MoveOn:)

I mean, we all have to move on, or at least move. Because the last time I checked, the man who can’t be moved…is either a statue…or a dead man. LOL! Galaw galaw din kasi pag may time!

One day soon, I will look back on these transitions with a happy face. I will be grateful for the lesson of change for through them I was able to grow and mature. Someone told me that looking back will be more fun after each heartbreaking change. That after the season of moving on, you’ll be more capable of understanding and appreciating every little actions of God in your life. I agree to that. Because I believe that in every transition in my life, the God I know is the constant variable making things happen in their perfect time, and with the perfect reason. The God who promised that He will never change—that He is immutable—understands every change that I face and He knows that they are necessary for my existence. And I’m on the way of appreciating that.

P.S.: the house is almost done. Konting ayos pa at magiging bahay na. Sabi ni Carlo lalo daw akong magi-emo kasi napakasenti ng lugar. I mean the solitude and the peace; the rustle of trees and the birds and the crickets and the frogs: they serve as 24/7 musical ensemble. Well, either that “emo” thing, or this: that this is an opportunity to reflect on the fundamental realities of life and reframe myself back into the larger picture. Weh?

I remember Henry David Thoreau when he went into self-exile with nature in order to understand life in a deeper and more profound way. After that season of personal introspection, Thoreau gave the world his now great classic, “Walden”. Hindi kaya maging transcendentalist o existentialist din ako nito? Haha. Wala lang.

Well, transitions. Hashtags on that!