Are We Afraid Of Giants?

Are we afraid of giants? No, not the Gulliver sort of character but rather the breed of people deeply focused on pursuing something bigger than themselves?

Do we shy away from nobility, a class which for me, are those having a sense of cause? Are we intimidated by their selflessness because it leads us to examine our own sense of worth?

I use to feel this way until Jojo came into the picture. Better known among his friends as GKJo, Jojo has always impressed me with the work he continues to invest on Gawad Kalinga.

There is nothing that will stop him in his pursuit to make things better for his fellow man. Be it joining a marathon, a bike ride that calls attention to his work for the poor because of the livery he decided to be painted on his ride, or by any means that will highlight the mission he truly believes in.

And being the giant that he is, all that enthusiasm he carries, without fail, makes those who listen to him want to reflect on their own sense of purpose.

In the two weeks he has been here, I learned a lot about passion than I ever imagined. Jojo tore a ligament on one knee after the last marathon he joined, an agonizing act carried out for the sole purpose of bringing focus to his chosen advocacy. For a while he struggled with the question “Why?” only to smother all the doubts with “Because no one else will.”

It is a pure class act to rise above your set backs and seek out other ways to continue your work on empowering the helpless and the poor, to search for avenues on how you can bring dignity in their otherwise forgotten existence and to finally cheer them on when they rise above their poverty. This is true nobility at work.

I never had a true understanding of what passion is. I always thought that doing what makes you feel good is passion enough and so I find my biking fitting that definition.

I saw passion as exclusively about the self, confined to personal happiness. I never qualified passion as a selfless act of giving until it hurts and then still have lots of humor left. I never thought of passion as making a difference, of accomplishing work that truly matters in spite the daunting journey up ahead.

I never saw passion as a means to inspire other people to do acts of greatness.

Now I know better.

2011

Simon Sinek has written this on his Facebook wall: "The challenge of the unknown future is so much more exciting than the stories of the accomplished past."

If there is anything we weary life travelers need it is the enthusiasm to search for possibilities, to be excited about the future.

My wife constantly nag me for lacking the skills when it comes to huddling with relatives during family gatherings. She finds it bad manners that I shy away from their discussion and she is right. It shows self righteousness, a wiser-than-thou attitude. And it does not a good in-law make. So these days, I try.

Not that I am against looking back. Sure there are good memories to hark back to which leads one to appreciate the present blessings. What actually kept me at the distance for so long is the expected re-hash of stories from the last family reunion. 

My difficulty in college, and in most meetings I get invited to after that, was to stay interested on talks that are a remake of what I already heard before. So there I am, dozing off which I find more productive than being awake and hating the speaker.

It is for the same reason why I'd rather be somewhere else, like the buffet table, during family reunions because I find peace there, no hating anyone for not knowing what else to tell but the nth repeat of his escapades of 1979.

But slowly I am beginning to understand. Indeed, there is something about the future that people would rather choose looking back. The unknown has always been intimidating and there is no comfort in that thought.

A cousin was asking what business to put up. For a start, he was consulting the wrong person since I have been struggling finding answers to that same question for as long as I can remember. Still, I love this cousin and told him several options. I really felt he was looking for much needed input.

Which was why I was not ready for what came next. I did not expect that for every suggestion I will present him, he would emphasize on what will go wrong. In the end, I thought that no matter how much advice I will give, there will be a setback of some sort he will surely come up with. So I stopped, wondering if this man was really searching for opportunities or a debate.

Whenever I start encouraging friends to save up for a house, a car, an investment, the answer will always be a flowery metaphor that, simply put, says “I can't”. Much like the cousin, I do not know how they still “can” when they have already sealed and stamped it with an “I can't”. And I think that just like the folks in our family reunions, they are anxious more than excited of what lies ahead.

There are reasons why life goes on as it is. And one that each new year brings up so clearly is “chance”. We are offered a chance to make things right, to make amends, to hope, to be better which we should grab without hesitation.

So once again here is a year of possibilities, of challenges that though threatened by how much poise we may lose while trying to cross it, we will give it go just the same. 

Perhaps more importantly, here is a year of opportunities to do stuff that matters, a year that can bring about a change on how we view ourselves. And that is what I believe we should be excited about.

Of Milestones, The Love of a Wife and of Friends Who Believed

My view of what legacy to leave my daughters has always been blurred. I always thought writing was my core gift, so with speaking. It was on them where I pinned all my hopes of opportunities opening up and finding one that will bring about what I wished to bequeath my children. But they remain hopes at best.

So when someone broached the idea of seniors biking all the way to Baguio, I immediately went for it. I thought it will be an experience worthy of a blog, which may somehow lead to getting this writer's work noticed. Hope rekindled.

But if it remains a hope, that I pedaled all 270 kilometers (of which the final stretch is the agony that is Kennon Road) is something my children will talk about for years to come. Even friends will view Baguio much differently now knowing one of them took on the challenge of biking it with nothing much going for him but his heart.

More importantly, trips to my father's home in Benguet will take on a much deeper meaning.

This will be my legacy.

However, through the excitement was the reality that my body now aches in so many places, my bike needs quite a number of parts to make it worthy of the journey that is ahead of us. There is also the bigger issue of funding.

But the love of a wife knows no bounds. Cecille, through her heart, saw what was deep in me, the hopes I silently keep. Even with the countless people she wishes to bless this Christmas, she promised I will fulfill my milestone.

And then there are the few special ones who believed, who were as excited I will be doing this journey. More than friends, they, without being asked, quietly pooled their resources so I can fulfill my personal goal and then help others fulfill theirs. For there are others who are looking towards their own milestones but are in want. Now they will complete theirs with me.

Though initially I was only looking at completing my quest, in the end I had my plate really filled. More than a journey of self discovery, this trip revealed much of what was meant for me.

Now I know that all which is profound, all that carries much meaning, all that will ring through the ages can never be done alone.

In this trip I discovered that it is the voices of those who love you and those who believed in you echoing in your heart that will keep you pedaling up that mountain, no matter how difficult the climb might be.

I discovered that it is the enthusiasm of friendships born along the way that pushes you when the legs are on the point of giving up, their laughter that refreshes you, your second wind.

I discovered that it is the wisdom of those who passed this way before that makes you take notice of God's wonder that surrounds you, humbles you, making you complete.

I discovered that in the midst of indifference that now envelopes the world, there are still people who believe that all we do we can because there is an Almighty looking down on us and is eternally interested.

 True, no one does it alone.

Looking back, I never imagined I will actually do it. Up until November 26, it was all but a dream. Sure bikers half my age had actually done it and in a day. Yes, it can actually be done. But none at age 52.

And happen it did. A milestone fulfilled all due to the love of a wife and of friends who believed.

Truly I am blessed.

May Bukas Pa (There Is Still Tomorrow)

I wrote this as an email to a group of close friends last August. I am putting this up on this blog hoping that, just like it did them, it may do those who visit some good. Think of it as my own personal gift.


It's December and we maybe busy running around looking for the fitting Christmas present to those who means much to us. But as the Fox in The Little Prince said: "What is essential is invisible to the eye." For, indeed, it its.....

How many of us actually watch “Agua Bendita”? My wife is a fan and no matter that the story has branched into so many agonizing and confusing twists (masalimuot best describes it), Cecille, often times with Carmella, would watch it.

I don't. Am not on my high horse here but I think I have had too many bad news to end my day with another one. Let's face it, these dramas offer nothing but more sad news. Which makes me wonder what does it have that most Filipinos find it as a fitting means to cap their already hectic and strenuous day. This query has actually been asked in an earlier blog.

But more than the story, what gets me silly is the theme song: Malayo Pa Ang Umaga (for my english speaking friends this literally means "morning is still far off"). Forgive me but I do not see the connection. Another theme that also presents something confounding is the now defunct May Bukas Pa of the loveable Santino fame.

I think these songs offer something that each of us long for: Hope. Now here comes the shocking part: hope it may be but I think it is all misplaced.

Before you start deleting this email, allow me first to present my views.

A few weeks ago an aunt died. She was living in a small nipa hut situated at the back of a nephew's lot, which leaks a lot when it rains. For all the goodness that she represented while she was still strong, it was truly an unfitting end. She had enriched the lives of those she touched and yet she passed away destitute. It was heart wrenching.

Another nephew lamentably regrets not visiting her while she was alive.

This sad event got me asking....

How many of us expressed the same regret when someone who we love suddenly passes away? How many of us painfully wished we can turn back time? How many of us remain tormented because we failed to do what we should have done when we can still do it?

Malayo pa ang Umaga and May Bukas Pa may express hope of things getting for the better tomorrow. It may even indicate faith in what is good.

But often, because there is tomorrow, we tend to postpone the good that we can already do today. Because Malayo Pa Ang Umaga and May Bukas Pa we hold back on our embraces, on our kisses, on our love expressions, on dear moments.

Because Malayo Pa Ang Umaga or because May Bukas Pa, we became complacent.

And then it is all too late.

Like anyone else I have hopes for tomorrow, too. For starters, I picture tomorrow as “collaboration day”, when someone would finally consider my writing skills, ask my contribution that will lead to a literary work and then get remunerated for doing what I love doing.

I picture tomorrow as a day where my gift of gab becomes a channel of blessings for others who are still trudging along their own journey of illness.

But today I will not hold back. I will never hear of Malayo Pa Ang Umaga or May Bukas Pa for it may be too late then. Today I will enjoy the blessings I have received, to hug as much as I can, kiss those I love as often as I can and tell them I love them, bless them, have fun with them, listen to them, feel them, enjoy them.

Today I will tell my father I love him.

I will look forward to hearing Cecille's stories when she comes home later today.

Today I will teach my daughter the Roman Numerals.

And I will, right now, send this email to you guys for you have been a blessing to me, too. Holding it for tomorrow may just be too late.

Essential

Over a week ago, Carmella was in a birthday party where her best friend got a new Samsung Champ touch screen cellular phone as gift. I was curious how she saw this phone compared to what she has and so I asked. Her reply really humbled me and made me one proud daddy.

Carmella began by saying that if she has one, she might just drop it and scratch or even break the fragile touch screen. She went on telling that her very basic Cherry Mobile P1 already fulfills three of the most important things which according to her are:

1. talk to mommy,
2. send mommy text messages,
3. send Ate Trish text messages.

That she can do all these with her phone is, for her, good enough. Well, in my mind, that she also saved for it makes it a premium item. That's right, it is all her money.

So what humbled this father?

In my heart, it is how this child defined, in not so may words, “essential”. From the view of what her phone delivers, these things come to mind:

Essential does not need a touch screen. Essential does not need to be state of the art. Essential does not have to be the best of the best.

Essential is simply being able to connect to those who are important to you, to tell them how you feel, to be able to send them your love.

Suprisingly, “essential” is what most of us adults often fail to define.

We grown ups think of essential as the latest, the shiniest, the branded, the fashionable, the fastest, the expensive, the stuff that makes us feel unique, the gadget carrying the fruit logo, the things the Jones have.

With this follows the view that these are what completes happiness only to realize, after a few weeks, that they fade, they get scratched. So we embark on collecting more of stuff we perceive as “essential” only to end our story like how it begun.

Earlier I mentioned being one proud daddy and truly I am. For as young as 9 my daughter is able to define her "essential". And it isn't jaded.

Who wouldn't be proud of that?

Why The Tummy?

It happens all the time.

Whenever I tell them of my bike adventures, their eyes, for some reason, gravitates towards my mid section.

It's not horrendously big, as a matter of fact. It could be better but it is not beer belly in any sense. It's just not a six-pack. 

But the sort of response I get manifests the distorted view that a six-pack tummy equates to exercise success.

This is Tony dela Cruz. He is a very good friend, a biking mate and an inspiration to all he rides with. He may not have a six-pack but when we rides, he is one of those leading the peloton. 

Yes, he is always at the front, even on those agonizing uphills. He is among the toughest riders I have known and maybe even the fastest in his category. He would give those twice younger than him a run for their money.

At each annual physical examinations where he works, he consistently proves to be the healthiest. In fact, he tells me that they would point to him as, what I would personally call, “the fitness benchmark.”

There is no six-pack in this picture, no sculptured biceps and chests, no Mr. Universe triceps. What we have here, despite the lack of visual evidence, is simply a picture of healthy folks.

We may not have the physique that will invite hundreds to our chosen sport. But as in everything that is essential, the profound remains invisible to the eye.

In my mind, it is our mad quest for vanity that often push us to get into so many things all at the same time only to end up failing in all of them. The gym time, the spa visits and the running in a steam suit all comes to naught.

And it is perhaps this same attitude that is mirrored by our life choices.

We obsesses over evidences before we set out trying things and so we end up getting nothing done at all. We focus on the impossible, on the difficulty, on the things that can go wrong. Yet at the same we wonder why we do not take off.

This heart beating in my chest remains healthy in spite of its age because the mind has decided that a healthy heartbeat is far more important than a six pack tummy. That I continue to ride just says it has chosen it's priorities well.

What Is Wrong With This Picture?

We now lived in a world that mostly fall into a region called “the gray area.” Lots of standards have been redefined that many people have mistakenly identified bad as something passable. Though obviously bad, that they have been labeled as modern should make them widely accepted.

So what is wrong with this picture? Pooh Bear mug, obviously directed to kids. But a Cappuccino Tumbler? What was in the mind of the one who conceptualized this product? Are they really expecting me to allow my 9-year-old to a heaping tumbler of Cappuccino? 

What are kids into these days that brought about this idea they need a caffeine boost via a Pooh Bear coffee tumbler? Too much PSP?

Or have I remained in the dark ages without knowing it? Has coffee become the in-thing for kids as well and I simply missed that trend? I find this all confusing.

I am still trying to figure out the Starbucks concessionaire that I once mentioned in an earlier blog. I do not know if the whole idea was misplaced or that it is now perfectly acceptable for kids as young as 7 to be identified to a coffee shop. OK they serve non-coffee drinks to, I assume, appease children brought in by their coffee crazy parents.

For indeed, coffee will not be coffee if accompanied by screams from a bored kid. Which is exactly why I have coffee when the whole house is still asleep. So give that child some brain-freeze-caramel-flavored-massively-topped-whipping-cream frappe-stuff to stunt any intended wailing while we enjoy our Macchiato. Isn't all these comfy? This is perhaps why coffee shops have turned into family zones. 

Still, in spite of all the modernity, the fact remains that the future is not about gray areas. What brings us there is our ability to identity bad from good. We have all the tools to be able to do that. And we are far more educated now to really be contented, even accept, that good enough can pass off as excellent.

And as a parent, even at the expense of sounding like some blast from the puritanical past, it is my responsibility to be able to define the lines clearly to my young child. There is no future for fence sitters. The future belongs to those who have a clear view of what is good and excellent and work towards it.

So what about that confused Pooh Mug? Ah, it now belongs to this coffee crazy father.