Obstacles on the Road to Possibility

"Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal." - Henry Ford

The building where my office is doesn't have elevator muzak, it has elevator musings. I appreciate the efforts of the building administrator or whoever thought up this idea - instead of staring impatiently at the lift's floor indicator, we get to reflect on whatever words of wisdom happen to be posted on the panel. Or at least I get to.

Today's message made me smile; old dorky me and my "machinery" just got through of a couple of restless days of self-negation. The conversations in my head, while distinguished as mere conversations, were unforgiving: "You can't pull that off!"; "You failed at this-and-that in the past, what makes you think you can do this now?"; "Too many people are counting on you - do you really want to be responsible?" etc., ad nauseam! What I got is that all the internal dialogues were putting in place imaginary limitations and obstacles based in the past; and with all that past in my future, there was absolutely no room for possibility. I'd taken my eyes off the "prize" - what I'm committed to - and instead had focused a little too much on what was in the way of fulfilling on that.

As always, it took a conversation with another human being to sort that out - and it wasn't even a conversation about myself and what I'm dealing with. My law partner Kenneth and I had a profound discussion about God, His Church, and religion, and while I was doing most of the "distinguishing," I got something myself out of what I said.

One of Ken's questions was how to tell whether it's God who's "talking," or if it's just him having conversations in his own head. I don't where I read or heard this, but I've subscribed to the view that words that do not comfort are not from God. Now this has nothing to do with desolation or consolation in the Ignatian sense, or with conscience as Christianity knows it. What I'm talking about are the internal dialogues that disempower; that negate, diminish, or have us be less of the creations we are in His eyes. Those very conversations that I just had over the last two days: conversations of im-possibility, of incapacity, of smallness. Of shirking from one's own God-given greatness and of turning away from possibility. Of not trusting in His infinite power and in the miraculous.

Yeah, I got that. And I'm "off it" :-). To infinity and beyond...bring on the miracles, I'm ready for 'em!

Complete

Yesterday, Sunday, was the final full day of the most recent Landmark Forum in Manila. Participants got THE conversation of the LF, the big kabaaaaammm! that ties it all together.

I had a little breakdown in my schedule early in the morning, so I missed Father Gregg Banaga's Mass for the participants and the assistants. I always love when either Father Gregg (President of Adamson University, and a former Introduction Leader of the LF) or Father Elis of the Salesian order celebrate Sunday Mass; they bring the distinctions of transformation so beautifully into the conversation of Christianity and the Church.

But anyway. As I'd missed the morning Mass, I went to the noon Mass at Sta. Maria della Strada instead, with the intention to have a revelation in my faith. And I did.

It wasn't earth-shaking or mind-blowing; rather, it came, as God often speaks, in a quiet whisper during consecration.

The Lord sees us with the eyes of a Creator who gave up His only Son so that our sins may be forgiven. He looks upon us not with revulsion or derision for our imperfections, but as the redeemed: unblemished, pristine, and as perfect as He created us in the beginning. For while we initially fell from grace, we, in His great plan, have all been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb.

Strangely enough, we are frequently less forgiving of ourselves than the Great Forgiver Himself. We oftentimes beat ourselves up, emotionally and spiritually, without regard to how He took the fall for our transgressions, and how He suffered and died so that we wouldn't have to. We get stuck in a world of making ourselves (and others) wrong, worrying about how our lives are going, figuring out where we've lost our way, without regard for what His passion and cross were all about.

And here is what I got: He, once and for all, on that dark afternoon on Calvary, healed our brokenness. He got us back to where we were as He intended us: whole, perfect, and complete. And for what? So we could be HIM in the world, to continue what He began - to have OTHERS recognize who they are in His eyes. Whole, perfect, and complete.

Yet when we "indulge" in our brokenness, when we dwell too long in "what's wrong with me?" or "why are things not going the way they should?," or "what does He really want me to do?" we are useless to Him and His plan. Our brokenness, blessed as it may be, keeps us from being there for OTHERS - from being there for and being Him to the flock He has entrusted us to tend. Our world becomes all about us as our individual selves, and not about Him - He who is in our neighbors and in the world as He is in us. Ironically, it is, the giving of ourselves to others - the outpouring of who and what He has blessed us with - that has us have the experience of being COMPLETE.

I am reminded of my earthly hero, Mother Teresa, and her dark night of the soul, which lasted for decades. Despite her inner turmoil, she gave of herself to the world, without shutting herself out or retreating from what she was called to do. And the Lord's work was done through her, and continues to be done, many years after her death. She touched, healed, and comforted countless lives without succumbing to the temptation to withdraw, fix, or figure it out before moving along.

We are, indeed, jars of clay that contain a great Treasure. While we are easily broken, through every crack and shard the magnificence that is within shines through. Our job is not to patch up the pieces and keep the container intact. Our mission is to break ourselves open, completely, so that the glorious Presence within finally, and perfectly, is released to illuminate all the world with His Light.

Amen.

Walk, BC, Walk!

Good old BC has a plan, and I'm loving it already. I've always held that the streets of Baguio City were made for walking :-)

BAGUIO CITY – An energy-saving campaign designed to eventually rid this mountain resort city of cars and other motor vehicles for six days a week began Monday with a walk.

About 200 local officials, employees and residents walked to work as their share in efforts to conserve energy, cut fuel consumption, and protect the environment.

Mayor Reinaldo Bautista Jr., Rep. Mauricio Domogan, Laoag Archbishop Ernesto Salgado, Bishop Carlito Cenzon and other local government officials walked to Burnham Park alongside government workers, teachers and their children for a flag-raising ceremony that launched the "Walk Baguio Walk" energy-saving campaign.

Read the rest of the article here.

Happy and Gay

I was 16 when a friend of mine "outed" himself to me. I can still remember the moment clearly: we were on the couch of my living room, there was a party going on, and he said to me, very seriously and from out of the blue, "Honey, I'm gay."

My response? "Oh, okay."

That was a first of many "outings" of male friends throughout the years - some, like the first, came out of left field; others met a reaction of "well, duh." And some never felt the need to say anything at all - it was a foregone conclusion that we didn't feel the need to discuss.

But I should say that I'm somewhat of a clearing for open admissions of sexuality, albeit that majority have not out-ed themselves to the general public. I guess it's mainly because I'm not one to condemn sexual preference, and also because I always react with, "Oh, okay. One more San Mig Light?"

The revelations have ranged from up-front admissions (often with some initial trepidation on the "admittee's" part) to phone conversations to outright confrontation (always gentle and non-accusatory, of course). And to the last person, every single admittee has become (if they weren't already) a great friend. Some have even introduced me to other gay friends who became great friends without the uncomfortable question of "is he or is he not" hanging in the background; there were even a few times when I was the only female in a big gathering of homosexuals, many of whom were still in the closet - and they were free to BE.

Now, my mother likes to explain away my civil status with the hypothesis that most of the men I hang out with are interested in other men: "Ayan, bakla na naman kasi ang kasama mo!" Which, I should say, is not entirely true (and I also say this for the benefit of my heterosexual guy friends who may be inaccurately branded). I have an equal proportion of straight and gay buddies, but I guess it's the gay guys who create a lasting impression (especially around Mummy). And because they tend to "come out" of the woodwork around me.

Which is just fine with me. I've wept with them over their heartaches, pretty much like I've done with my female friends (or even more so - my girl friends are a hardy bunch). I've listened to their sexual shenanigans in great detail (very few straight men friends dare to even discuss that, much less female friends). I've heard all about their struggles with their preference, and even seen many of them through the suffering - the key to which being, a non-judgmental "oh, okay." And my relationship with gay men has even honed my finely tuned "gay-dar" - which, unfortunately, only seems to work on Asian men. I've had to consult the experts (i.e., my gay friends) on the disputable gender orientation of certain men of other races, particularly Caucasians. But still, I'm never ever surprised by revelations of sexual orientation. All together now: "Oh, okay."

My gay friends are wonderful human beings, with their own trials and triumphs. They are amazingly self-expressed around me, and fondly affectionate - I wouldn't allow many straight guy friends to be so outrightly cuddlesome. I would however, walk hand in hand with a gay friend in the mall without worrying about what anyone would think (and many of my gay friends are HOT male specimens, so that's added value, even though imaginary haha). Speaking of which, some of them have been mistaken by other people not in the know, as my current beaus...if only other people knew what I do! When we're whispering into each other's ear, it's not sweet nothings - we're just talking about the cute guy across the room and making bets as to which gender he prefers.

So anyway, here's to my gay friends, in the closet or out. I love you all, you're blessings in my life - but heck, let me find Mr. Right without your getting first dibs! Mwah :-)

P.S. I've also had some amount of female gay out-ings in my life, but not as much. At least they're not competition. :-)

The Difference Between Men and Women

I'm pretty blessed to have as friends a variety of the most amazing human beings who have ever walked the planet. In fact, at one point a couple of years ago, I even wondered, what did a loser like myself do to deserve friends like this? Turns out I wasn't such a loser after all. :-) Like attracts like, amazing attracts fantabulous, so I'm no longer in the dark about it. Ha ha!

But anyway. I've been looking at my relationships with these wonderful friends of mine, and distinguishing the dynamics that exist as regards my male buddies, as opposed to my female ones. Doing my personal version of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, so to speak. I shall do a whole entry on my gay friends (and they are many), but I may make reference to them as well as I go along (or not).

Women are Cheerleaders, Men are Naysayers. And it's no coincidence that my best guy friend's name is "Ney" (not just Ney but Ney!Ney!) My women friends egg me on, especially in relationships - some even see meaning and possibility where there is none. Not particularly helpful, especially in the realm of "experience" vs. "interpretation" - but I find it a uniquely female trait. Women will get kilig with you, and I've even had some female friends CREATE the experience of kilig FOR me: "Uuuuy why did he ask you this-and-that?" or "You're so bagay!" While all the time I'm going, duh? What happened? Sometimes I miss the ball that's coming straight at me - or even, the imaginary ball.

Men, on the other hand, will take on being devil's advocate, to the point of crushing every hope and dream and interpretation one harbors. I don't know if it's the challenge of it, but they will argue the other side of the coin, come hell or highwater. They will deconstruct everything that happened into just that - it doesn't mean anything until the guy in question actually declares it out loud and/or swears on a stack of Bibles. Not only that, even if he's done so, men will find something wrong about the other man in question, and ultimately say, as opposed to the women's "He's so great/perfect for you!!!," that "There's something wrong with him." For years, I've received a gamut of male comrade feedback that ranged from "He's not right/good enough for you," to "Bad idea," "He looks like so-and-so (insert negative caricature)," "I think he's gay,", "I don't like him." Take that simultaneously with women friends' rah-rah and you got a schizo in the making.

Women will laugh and cry with you, Men want to make it all better. The wonderful thing about girl friends is that they will listen, commiserate, be happy/pissed/sad with you, no questions asked.

Men will try to FIX whatever they think is going wrong, just so you don't shed another tear. The thing is, sometimes you just need a shoulder, not a handyman. I've given a few male friends lessons in saying "ah huh," "is that so," and "I'm sorry to hear about that" to the women in their life - but they've never quite managed to resist the urge. They just gotta be Mister Fix-It...and consequently have to bear the ire of whatever female is unburdening on them.

Women talk feelings and experience, Men talk shop. I've never been the kind of girl who goes into the restroom with a gaggle of other females and emerges an hour later. I go the bathroom to powder my nose or go pee, and I don't need an entourage or more than five minutes to accomplish that. I can talk to you about our dates or whatever else ails me, emotionally, much, much later. But if we're going out with our guys, I just wanna talk...with you and with them. Men don't feel the need to congregate in the confines of the little boys' room to dwell on whether their dates like them or not - I don't think they even dwell on that issue at all, in public. I've found myself, more than once, left with all the men - talking shop - while the women disappeared into the black hole of the loo; I've had to retrieve them more than a couple of times.

Women don't go out for a couple of beers, Men do. Most women, that is. Sometimes I just want to toss back a couple and have a heartfelt conversation over copious amounts of alcohol - but many of my women friends want coffee and cheesecake...neither of which are on my list of favorite things (caffeine and carbs, ugh!). Thank goodness my best female friend appreciates the soothing properties of alcohol, and indulges with me on many occasions. So does my best male friend - and a whole range of other guy friends who don't think anything of having several brewskies to end the night. I don't have too many girl friends who will do that with me, unfortunately.

Thus, the best evenings for me are with my two best friends - one male, one female - over a bottle of wine each, balancing each other's quirks out by imbibing sufficient amounts of booze, crying on each other's shoulders, and saying what's there without fear or favor. Sometimes the male tries to fix it and the females (myself included) are a little too accomodating, but everything all works out in the end.

Conversations with John

Had a nice congratulations-for-passing-the-NY-Bar lunch with my good friend and business partner John today. I've written about him briefly before; he's the kind of guy who would have been my favorite guy classmate/seatmate/confidant in elementary school, except that he was my favorite guy classmate/seatmate/confidant in the Landmark Advanced Course (which, come to think of it, was almost like elementary school, without the childhood drama). Add relationship guru to the mix, and that's John.

I only get to see him infrequently, but each time, our breakfast/lunch conversation progresses from sometime business matters, his work, and Landmark kwento, to relationship - particularly, the state of mine. Other than my best guy friend Ney, who brings a whole different flavor to the "he said-she said" conversation (and who isn't quite the early morning/afternoon person), John brings the happily-married male perspective into clear daylight.

Yesterday, at another lunch with the girls, I firmly resolved to really put what I'm creating in a relationship at the foreground, instead of conveniently brushing it aside and concentrating on and doing well at the "easier" stuff (like career and everything else I'm up to). In the end, Miles said to just get off it (albeit in more graphic terms) and declare that I'm interested in this particular person I'm uncertain about (what's new? Sigh).

John has a different take on it. First off, he's met the guy and doesn't like him ("smart aleck" daw). Haha! That's what guy friends are for (well-meaning saboteurs! Women friends are so much more encouraging). Second, he says he's gotta be convinced that I'm reeeeeaaally in love with someone, as in with the whole experience of butterflies-in-stomach and pounding heart (as opposed to just being "interested"). Third - and he says he's pretty good at this - he offered me a prescription of what kind of guy I should be with.

According to him, the guy would be someone "on the court" - the basketball court, that is - rather than in his head; someone in action. So no uber self-analytical, introspective types. Someone who'd come back from his sport (or something - this is John's creation), and say, Come on, let's grab a beer (that part I like, hehe). And not always be asking to "analyze him" - except on occasion. Someone's who's smart without the aleck, is no pushover (I can push pretty hard), and who's ready to take on caring for me and the kids (that's good old forward-thinking John).

I kinda met someone like that not so long ago, but I let him "get away." John says for me to go get him back. In the meantime, he's on the lookout too, on my behalf, for a sport-playing, self-expressed, smart guy whom he can get along with. Wait a minute, I thought this was all about ME!

Wellness

I'm OFF IT! The sickness, that is. Funny how a single conversation can spell the whole difference.

The symptoms I'd written about earlier went the congested-respiratory-system way. There was a heaviness in my chest, a general experince of malaise and unwellness, just not being OK, physically.

But trust my committed listener to get to the root of all this - of why I wasn't at full power, of what I'd been suppressing (hence the congestion), of why I wasn't completely alive and well.

In the course of the conversation, natumbok namin. Without getting into the details, I had myself BACK in possibility, fully enlivened, ready to take on the infinite. Healed, and complete. Praise God for providing that. :-)

I'm fully charged and ready to go! The lights of possibility are on and at full wattage. MERALCO, send me the bill!

Sick Day

I'm declaring a sick day tomorrow. The symptoms of illness - which, I should say, I rarely encounter - are upon me: a weird stuck-ness in my throat, muscle aches, cotton in my head. It's still to early to determine which way they're going - be it a cough, colds, or the flu - but a dis-ease is brewing.

So what is up? I come from a family of physicians, so the logical explanation would be some virus attacking an immune system weakened by the weekend of strenuous travel and late nights. But I'm more interested in the ontological explanation of disease: mentally and metaphysically, physiology aside, what has my body experience this imbalance? After all, as Christ healed physical infirmities, he forgave the attendant sin and released the accompanying suffering. So there must be something there - we all probably know about how mental stress results in ulcers, insomnia, and skin disease.

One great resource is Louise Hay's Heal Your Body, which gets to the thought patterns that contribute to disease. I don't claim it to be Gospel truth, but it sure has hit the mark too often to ignore. So let's take a look at the possible sources of my impending illness/es:

Muscles (or the pains thereof) - Resistance to new experiences. Muscles represent our ability to move in life.

Colds - Too much going on at once. Mental confusion, disorder. Small hurts.

Coughs - A desire to bark at the world. "See me! Listen to me!"

Influenza - Response to mass negativity and beliefs. Fear. Belief in statistics.

Hmmm...at the moment, I can't pinpoint one or the other. But I guess I don't need to - I'll let the illness take its course, allow my body to heal itself, and continue to pray and distinguish what's with this gig. I'll be up and about on Thursday, but in the meantime I'm gonna crash and recuperate.

Whatta Weekend!

Woke up today (Monday) at 11 a.m. after an awesome weekend. The adventure began early Friday morning with assisting in the Landmark Advanced Course, and continued throughout the afternoon drive up to Quezon with Bakang the balikbayan. Johanna couldn't make it until the next morning, so we ventured off on our own, neither of us knowing exactly where Quezon was (see earlier post about that quandary).


But we made it all the way to Lucena with nary a hitch, spared of the traffic that the earlier rains had brought. The signs just pointed the way, and we were pleasantly surprised, in the middle of a good conversation, to find ourselves right in front of the hotel. Yay!

The evening and the next morning were all about wedding preparations; while we're on the topic, I have a few words to say about preparations in general. Although I enjoy some amount of spontaneity in my travels, I'm still very much a planner when it comes to the essentials: tickets booked ahead of time, a fully gassed-up car that works, everything I need to pack, a place to stay. Gone are the days of just taking off and sleeping in the car or on the concrete of an open-air basketball court. And so, I'd naturally booked Johanna and myself a room at the Queen Margarette (silent, superfluous "te"), as recommended by Bogart. Bakang and another friend who arrived later that evening had not. Neither did some other guests who got into town only to find that there were no other rooms available. So my point is, adequate preparation saves the day and eliminates unnecessary suffering. Fortunately for Bakang and friend, the absent Johanna's bed was big enough for the both of them, and the room eventually accomodated all four of us the next night, so the boys didn't have to sleep in the bathtub.

Saturday afternoon was Bogart and Neren's wedding - a wonderfully moving ceremony attended by family and friends, many of whom had flown in from far away or driven the distance. The reception was of rockstar calibre, not surprising for Boging the rockstar personified! It was an opportunity to connect with friends we'd met throughout the years of jamming at Bogart and Bakang's apartment (many of whom I didn't recognize immediately in the finery of their apparel - and vice versa: "Honey, is that you? It's Honey, right?! We had some beers together on such-and-such date," and so on) and to create new ones. And so the drinking and the conversation went on throughout the eve and the night of the wedding...with and without the happy couple. This particular group of friends of mine is extremely musically inclined, so Bakang's new Suzhou-purchased acoustic guitar was put to good use.







The day after was a little more relaxed, with a lot less alcohol involved. We took a trip further down Quezon to Lucban for a nice seafood lunch, and headed back home to Manila, blessed with minimal traffic and great weather. For me, the evening was far from over as I went straight back to the Advanced Course afterwards...and I finally called it a wrap at 4:00 a.m. on Monday, happy and fulfilled.

Whatta weekend indeed, and what an incredible week that lies ahead!!

Whatta Week

I don't think I've ever been more present to such a roller coaster ride of a week than I have with this one. One day I was up, the next I was swooping down, and at one precarious point, I found myself suspended in mid-air, belly-up, hanging on for dear life.

But the good thing about roller coasters is that they're just so much fun - downward spirals and all (because you always know that the next turn is even more exciting) and, so far, I've always made it out alive. The key probably is in not getting off before the ride is over. That, perhaps, would definitely have spelled doom.

At one point, I couldn't wait for the week to be over and done with and to move forward. It was just all about getting to the end in sight. But now that it's here, I'm going back on for another turn. Whoopee!!

Praise God!

Praise God Almighty for possibility fulfilled...I just passed the New York Bar!

Thank you to family and friends for prayers, love, sourcing, and support. And thank you to Him from Whom all good things come :-)

Alleluia, praise the Lord! Wooohoooh, yehaa...

My Kingdom for a GPS

Or, should I say, how to navigate my kingdom without one.

We're driving down to Lucena, Quezon next weekend for a good friend's wedding, and I have no idea how to get there. Well, that's a little exaggerated - I have some idea, but I'd only been down that road once sometime in the early part of the century, en route to see the whale sharks in Donsol. Plus Larry was doing the driving (and plotting the route to Sorsogon for future butanding seekers), so I didn't pay very much attention. I would ask him, but my human GPS is in NYC as I write so that doesn't work out for me too well.

I know Northern Luzon like the back of my hand, but Southern Luzon is a mystery to me. Which is pretty much to my own detriment, as I found that part of the country lovely in its own way and had promised myself long ago to go further down than my usual Batangas/Mindoro destinations. I'm finally keeping that promise, but how the heck do you get to Quezon?

Just take the Sto. Tomas road, and head on to San Pablo, said my Dad. Uh ok, thanks, I think. I gotta figure out where those places are first. Unfortunately, the Philippines has yet to develop a decent map engine, and I've yet to know about a local car GPS that can actually direct you to your destination. For now, the best we can do is rely on sites like waypointsdotph, or, much to my delight, multimap. Or, just like the olden days, stop every few kilometers and ask the locals to point us in the right direction.

Speaking of locals - wait a minute! I've overlooked something (a realization that hit me just when I was typing this). Johanna, who's making the trip down with me, is from the Bicol region in Southern Luzon herself, even further south than Quezon...so what the heck was I worried about?! Talk about a useless exercise in unnecessary aggravation.

But I still want that car GPS. Grrrrghh.

Only In Da Pilipins

Muhuhaha...haylaveet!! (from Facebook's Funny Pinoy Signs)

Movie Marathon

One of the perks of this created lifestyle is that I get to "earn my keep" in a lot less time than the usual workday/week, and do whatever else I choose for the remainder. Yesterday, after a short out-of-town meeting (and a very long wait in C-5 traffic), I motored home to do some serious movie marathoning.

My Dad had gotten me a new DVD player for Christmas last year, but it remained untouched until Wednesday afternoon when I ditched the old machine and set up the sleek, 1 1/2-inch, fresh-out-of-the-box one. I think the cinema craving was resurrected by an impulsive itch the other day to see Jet Li and Jacky Chan (two of my favorite actors) in The Forbidden Kingdom, an epic kung-fu movie (one of my favorite genres). Good thing Lex was up to an early afternoon viewing in SM North - perfect company, even if the popcorn/soda vendor slacked off and could not be found every time I slipped out to buy some munchies. Thank goodness for our Bread Talk baon.

Anyway, I began to go through my backlog of collected DVDs by putting on 638 Ways To Kill Castro. Love documentaries; this one was fascinating. You gotta root for the old socialist underdog!

That was followed by an old favorite - Akira Kurosawa's Dreams. I first saw it in 1990, with Ken and I think Emily, Doyet and Miles; and I remembered how much I loved it. Seeing it with new eyes 18 years later had me thinking that old Akira had a thing for aftermaths: environmental degradation, war, nuclear disaster... the film would have been, for the most part, better off titled "Nightmares."

I also saw another Kurosawa movie - Madadayo (1993). Loved that one too. It was also about aftermath, in a good way: the loving aftermath of a great teacher's career and the students who cared for him.

Next in line was the obligatory Hollywood movie - Little Miss Sunshine. I'd been meaning to see it for a while, but I always put it off...didn't regret seeing it. Had fun, it was cute. But I've not fancied American movies for a while, so it didn't quite rank up there.

I wanted to see A Day Without A Mexican again, but somehow the DVD didn't want to play, so I put on My Big Fat Independent Movie...and promptly fell asleep.

Today, I saw more Kurosawa - finally finished Ran (mad King Lear, shogun style), and am in the middle of Red Barber. I adore these flicks. Love Chinese kung-fu epics as much (got me a whole bunch of those tonight too). Catch y'all later.

My Way or the Highway

"Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything." - Charles Kuralt

I was a little disappointed to hear that the new Clark-Subic Expressway was closed during the weekend, and would only re-open today, April 28. My friend Neil had extolled the virtues of the new highway: it cuts down travel time from Bocaue to Subic Bay to a mere 30 to 45 minutes instead of the two hours it usually takes through several towns of Pampanga and Bataan. And so I was really looking forward to testing it out, only to have my intentions thwarted for the meantime.

But thinking about it this morning led me to the conclusion that I really wouldn't have it any other way. I'm a big fan of road trips, not so much those of the speedy highway variety, but those that take you through the sinuousities of whatever country you may be traveling in. One memorable motorist adventure was the 900+ kilometer weekend drive from Paris to Monaco: sure, we got to the South of France in record time, but really missed out on the French countryside. We compensated, much to our enjoyment, by taking the "scenic route" on the way back.

Just this year, a missed exit on the US I-88 had us fortuitously taking the state highways through Illinois instead - now this was a slice of Americana I wouldn't have witnessed if we'd gone on the road well-traveled. A trip up to upstate New York and all its scenic attractions was likewise off the beaten track - you won't find those quaint little local restaurants that serve fabulous food on the Interstate (unless Subway is your idea of quaint and fabulous).

Had we taken the Clark-Subic Expressway on this particular trip, I would have missed out on the mangoes of Zambales or the brownies of Floridablanca (I love making pasalubong stops). I also wouldn't have rekindled my relationship with Sting (favorite music to drive to on long trips) if the journey was short and quick. Or had the time to experience the calming yet unpredictable flow of the countryside, as opposed to the monotony of the freeway.

So, in the end, I actually wasn't disappointed that we had to take the long, familiar route. I wonder if I'll feel the same about the new Tarlac-Baguio City Expressway that they're just beginning to build - what, no more bagoong and Matutina stops in Pangasinan??!! (Echoes of the Tagaytay bulalo and coffee stops I've missed since they built the new Star Expressway to Batangas) The trade-off is that I'll no longer have to endure the tricyles, trucks, and Tarlac two-lane traffic...but I guess for now I'm happy enough to have the choice of taking the journey, or arriving swiftly at my destination.

Miracles

A miracle, defined by the dictionary, is "an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause."

That's a little high-fallutin' for me, especially since I'm about to share with you a range of "miracles" that may or may not fit into the definition.

Today, I got present to the miracle of my career. Many of those close to me know that I'd given up the legal profession more than a few years ago to pursue other endeavors; heck, I was even in a magazine spread that extolled the choices of women as they changed horses midstream, so to speak. And yet, after going through all that drama, I am a lawyer in good standing before the Supreme Court and the Integrated Bar of the Philippines (took some effort to get me back on track), and God-willing, of New York State, and gosh darned, I'm proud of it. And of how I can make a difference knowing that don't have to "survive" (or bail out) to thrive in a purported sea of "sharks."

I got the miracle of conversation today. I spent half my day just talking with fellow lawyers, and later, with a client, as if the conversation would never end. Then, the rest of the day was spent in conversations with family, and with a number of remarkable individuals committed to have the miraculous happen in their lives. Despite the number of people I "had" to talk to, I kind of regretted that my last conversation (at 10:00 p.m.) had to end.

I also got present to the miracle of relationships. I am connected to the life force of the planet - the wonderful world of human beings - in ways that continue to astound me. The other night, I was in traffic - and a stranger of a street child (as opposed to the ones I've come to know over the years) started tapping on my car window for extra change. Since I started serving with the streetchildren's foundation, I've learned that a moment of relatedness and recognition produces more results than a perfunctory handover of coins - so I started a little pantomime with the kid. No, no money. No, no food on me right now. All I had was a big smile of acknowledgment - that met its counterpart. At the end of the exchange, I waved goodbye behind my tinted car window...and he did too, bless his heart, still smiling. I passed his way again the next night, through a green light, and he recognized me. God, I miss "my kids."

So those are some of my miracles to date. I should add one big one - the miracle of a highway built from Tarlac all the way to the foot of Baguio City - which I had hoped and wished and prayed for, and declared as a possibility almost two years ago, and which is going to be happening, finally (thanks Lex, for the heads up), without my having to do anything about it. Miracles abound, at every moment - but sometimes we just gotta get present to the moment and grab it for everything it's worth.

I'm ready for the next miracle...are you?

Love and light, peace and power to you always :-)

Tsinelas

I recently read one of those tabloid articles "exposing" an unnamed actress for wearing her expensive shoes only when it was time to go on cam, and slipping back into tsinelas (best translated into English as "flip-flops") in between takes. The tenor of the article was deprecatory, as if it were belittling the poor celebrity for her inauthenticity in footwear.

Teka muna.

Whoever wrote that piece has obviously never experienced the discomfort of wearing - much less walking - in four-inch heels for an extended period of time. Designer shoes or not, comfort is almost always sacrificed for aesthetics: looking good weighs in more than feeling it. At least that's how I see it.

But nothing quite comes as close to the relief of slipping into comfortable footwear (which ideally approximates the pleasure of going barefoot) after several hours in killer shoes - it's akin to digging into a big meal when you're starving or making it to the john at the height of bladder overflow. It's the pinnacle of deliverance, sa totoo lang. And the most comfortable of comfort footwear is none other than the lowly tsinelas (a.k.a., beach thongs, slippers, ismagol sa Ilocano).

So pwede ba, knock it off with the bad tsinelas rap. I've half a mind to condemn you to a pair of Blahniks for the rest of your days - go walk the length of the Mall of Asia in those babies, if you dare.

If choosing tsinelas over Jimmy Choos were a crime, guilty ako dyan. I love how my murderous, mutinous, height-enhancing dress shoes complete my outfit when I'm standing still, but I'm not going to even venture crossing the street in them. So shoe me.

Postscript to Last Entry

Here I go again!

I was just re-reading my last post (Wednesday Blogger, see below), when I GOT that I'd forgotten an area of my life that I always seem to conveniently forget. So this time, I'm going to give it an entry all its own.

I'm creating time to have that great relationship in my life - an honest-to-goodness, knock-your-socks-off, kilig-to-the-bones, loving, committed, for-keeps relationship. It's something that I've always said I wanted, but which always seems to slip my mind. Hmm...interesting. I don't know how that's going to happen, or where it's going to fit on my plate, but I'm just saying.

Looks like I'll have to get a great big serving platter for this one. :-)

Wednesday Blogger

One of the biggest breakthroughs I got out of Landmark Education's Curriculum for Living has to do with my relationship to time and my schedule. A few years back, I remember having "no time" to do everything I needed to do: it was always a mad rush to get our of the house, to work, to meetings, through meals, and even vacations. There simply just wasn't enough time!

And then, sometime during the Introduction Leaders' Program, I got that I could run my schedule, instead of it running me. That shift in perspective had me do a whole lot of things I'd previously professed I never had the time to do: take on more projects at work, create businesses, supervise programs and seminars for Landmark, attend trainings abroad, and even take vacations and three months off out of the country to review and take the NY Bar Exam! (As a side note: I just found out yesterday that I passed the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam - yahoo!)

It takes constant and continuous practice though, to manage everything on my plate (the key there is always getting a bigger one, instead of cramming stuff on top of each other). My expansion in that area hasn't gotten to the level of mastery yet, but as I continue to practice expansion, i.e., taking on more things instead of prioritizing or sacrificing, I've found that things are working; stuff is getting done.

These last few days, in particular, I've noticed that I've gotten to create a life of my own design - and everything "fits." Since I got back from the US, I've spent time in and out of town with old friends and my sorority sisters, had conversations towards creating (even more!) businesses, taken on new clients for the law office, all while leading Introductions to the Landmark Forum, managing the next seminar and the upcoming Advanced Course, and taking coaching calls/conversations throughout the day. Almost nothing has been compromised: aside from scheduled time with different groups of friends, I still get to have weekday breakfasts or lunches with my Dad, dinner with my Mom, drinks with my brother. Tonight, I even have time to accept my Dad's longstanding invitation to join his socio-civic organization, and, this weekend, I'll be going out of town for a little family summer outing (followed by another sorority shindig).

While my ever-expanding "plate" knows no weekends or weekdays or hours, I set aside one day to "chill" (in a relative sense). I created that on Wednesdays, I don't have to be anywhere in particular: I can work and take calls from home, do my beauty rituals, go to my Dad's evening meetings (or not). One area that I haven't gotten around to creating time for as of late is mission, and it looks like my plate is going to have to get a little bit bigger (Wednesday mornings and Saturdays are the days I'm designating for that).

And, as the title of this post indicates, Wednesdays are my days to blog; while I may put up the occasional post throughout the week, Wednesday is my designated day to update this page and unload my thoughts.

Blessed be God for schedules we get to create - hey, He got a whole lot done Himself in just six days! :-) " And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good." (Genesis 1:31)

For Claire

My dear friend Claire writes like a dream; not surprisingly, as she can carry on the most literate of conversations on life, love, and faith. One of her favorite subjects is the state of being single - also a subject of our numerous discussions over the years. Due to the "toxicity" of her schedule as a medical resident (newly graduated) and my frequent travels, we haven't had a chance to meet up for the coffee-and-conversation date we've been eternally planning, but I thought of Claire as I read this book over Good Friday (not exactly prescribed Holy Week reading!). The protagonists of How To Be Single: A Novel (Liz Tuccillo, 2008) are all single American women a little bit older than Clairebear (my age, for that matter), but their experiences are perhaps universal. The premise of the book, in fact, is just that: the narrator travels the world to seek out whether single women elsewhere have "got it figured out" (as far as she can tell, they haven't). Anyway, there are several passages that stand out, even out of the story's context, and I thought I'd share some of them here. For you, Claire, until we meet for that coffee and I can give you the book itself.

"The love of her life, the love of her life. As Alice took a shower, she realized it came down once again to one thing: What did she believe in? In other words, What kind of life did she want to live? Did she really think the love of her life was out there? Did she think it was wise to go back out into the wilds of being single just in the hope of finding him? What was she holding out for? As she toweled herself off, she realized that she didn't want to be the girl who refused to settle. She didn't want to be the girl who believed that life is short and it's better to be single and looking for the 'love of your life' than to just give up and settle. She didn't want to be that girl. She thought that girl was stupid. Naive. Alice liked being practical; she was a lawyer, so she preferred to be realistic. Waiting and searching for the love of your life was exhausting. It might even be delusional. Again, yes, she knew that some people win the love lottery and get to fall in love with someone who is also mad about them, and their life together is harmonious and filled with love. But she didn't want to be the girl who stubbornly held out for what might never come.

She sat back down on her bed, wrapped in a little towel, and she began to cry. She started sobbing, her arms wrapping around her legs as she put her head on her knees and rocked and wept.

She realized she was that girl.

That girl who, at thirty-eight, couldn't give up the dream that she would meet a man who made her heart soar and that they would share a life together. She cried knowing it meant that she had to worry about whether she was ever going to start a family, that she would be thrust back into a world where nothing was guaranteed and all she really had was hope. She knew it meant that she would be single again."

Here's to not settling, Clairebear. :-)