Agosto

Ika-4 ng Agosto

Lulan ng Cebu Pacific Airlines 5J5055

Unang uwi sa Pinas.

Agosto.

Ang Pilipinas ay nagdiriwang ngayon ng Buwan ng Wika. Marapat lamang na gamitin ang nakagisnang lengwahe ng aking dila. At siya nga, tayo na’y magsimula.

Sa panibagong yugtong ito ng aking paglalakbay buhay, una kong uwi ngayon sa Pinas. Excited (ano ang Tagalog ng excited??) ngunit may halong lungkot. Apat na buwan ang nakaraan nang ako’y unang pumarito sa Japan. Hindi ko maiwaksi sa aking isipan ang pait at hinagpis na dala-dala ko noon sa aking looban, lulan ng parehong eroplano na sinasakyan ko ngayon. Ako’y wawalay sa aking mga mahal sa buhay at mag-isa kong haharapin ang bukas na puno ng sakit at pangungulila sa aking mahal na Amang kamakailan ay pumanaw. Hindi ko mawari kung ano ang aking gagawin, kung papaano ko lalabanan ang mga espada ni kamatayan. Kung papaano ako gigising sa umaga at sasalubungin ang katotohanang ako’y lubusang ulila na.

Apat na buwan na nga ang lumipas. Paano ko hinarap ang apat na buwang iyon na mag-isa? Paano ko kinaya ang mga umagang pagkagising ko’y luha at paghagulhol ang kasama? Paano ko sinuong ang mga mabagyong gabing nalulunod ako sa sarili kong mga luha? Mga gabing binabayo ako ng takot dahil sa matinding pagtangis, ang aking dibdib ay sumisikip na wari ba’y hindi na ako makahinga. Masidhing takot sapagka’t paano kung ako’y mawalan ng malay at mag-isa lamang ako sa bahay? Sino ang tutulong saakin? Sino ang tatawag ng tulong para saakin? O di kaya’y ang pinakamalala, sino ang makakaalam na ako’y sumakabilang buhay na? Pinilit kong lumaban. Pinilit kong kinaya.

Kinaya ko kahit hindi ko kaya. Hindi ko kaya. 

Paano ko itinawid ang apat na buwan? Sa pamamagitan ng pananalig na hindi ako mag-isa. Hindi ako mag-isa.

Sa bawa’t umagang ako’y nagigising sa paimpit kong paghagulhol, niyayakap ako ng Panginoon. Sa aking mga pagtangis, tanging Pangalan Niya ang aking binubulong. Mahirap paniwalaan ngunit sa aking pagdurusa, ang masidhi Niyang pagmamahal ang saakin ay kumalinga. At sa bawa’t gabing ako’y nilulunod ng samu’t saring pangamba? Pakiwari ko ako’y si Pedro na naglakad sa tubig kasama Niya. Subali’t sa pagkakataong ito, kumapit ako ng mahigpit Sakanya, hindi ako puwedeng mahulog, hindi ako puwedeng malunod. 

Kumapit ako. At hindi Niya ako binigo.

We fear not the Unknown because we have a Known God

I am scared.

Four months after my arrival on April 1st, Raymond is coming to join me here in Japan. After a thousand silent prayers and fingers crossed, he's finally coming over, hopefully, for good. His coming over is part of our life-long journey into the unknown. As our families and friends are aware of, this is a risk we are about to take. Raymond's job, except that he's being underpaid for what he's worth, is a job that every average Filipino would wish to have. He's working for the City Engineering Office, a regular employee who gets bonuses from time to time and who can be pretty lax, so to speak. And he's planning to abandon all of those little luxuries-- being an employee of the government. For what? For the uncertain, for the unknown.

Our plan is to have him come over so we could be together. We believe that God has joined us into one body in the sacrament of marriage. Thus, the head cannot be placed away from its heart. So we are determined to cross the oceans and the skies to be with each other. Even if that meant he has to leave his job and face the unknown with me.

We are both scared.

We want this to work. I, as a teacher, and him, as an Engineer-- here in Japan. The "I" part has been well taken cared of by God, already. The next part is "him". I am amazed by Raymond's humility and meekness, of his willingness to take whatever job opportunity so long that he's with me. I am scared because I cannot promise him a job here. Who am I, anyway? I am scared because I don't know what lies ahead of us or what is in store for us here. My doubts and fears are seeping in, trying to burst the bubble of hope that I am holding on to. Is it not what evil wants me to do? To doubt, to worry, and to be afraid?

I want to remember this time of our life-- when we walk over the water with God. A walk that allowing any doubt or fear in our heart could cost us drowning. I will remember this day as the day that I chose to trust His will. Just as what I said to him, "I could not promise you a job here in Japan but what I can promise you is that God never fails."

We are both scared but God never fails.

Being here in Japan is already a work of His hand. I remember all the processes I had to go through to be here. And in every step of the way, I held on to this short prayer: "If this truly is your will, Lord, everything will push through smoothly." And it did. I had the same prayers when we were processing Raymond's papers. From requesting for the Certificate of Eligibility to be approved (which only took 5 days) to his visa (which took 2 days) and the rest is history. I know that the days ahead won't be easy. Our patience and faith will be tested on fire. But just as God never wavers His provision to us, so do we.

A family is not an important thing. For us, it is everything. This means that in all our ways, we will put it on top of our priority. And the rest will just follow. Of course, in all our ways and plans, we acknowledge Jesus, the only begotten son of God. With the Father and the Holy Spirit, all of our worries will come to pass. We claim that we will rise victorious in this journey into the Unknown because we have a Known God. And that, we believe, is enough.

Not as clear as Coke Clear

June 30th
Saturday
Kasama-shi, Ibaraki

This drink seems to have some existentialist's crisis. For all I know, Coke is supposed to have that dark, inviting color. After taking a few gulps, I gave up. It just didn't taste right. So it's been a few weeks since it's in my fridge, having no idea when will I have the courage to drink it again.

But this post is not about this coke's new version. It's about the crisis I found in it. I don't know what to make of it because it's clear and coke is not supposed to be clear. Just like my life right now. I don't know what to make of it.

I grew up knowing only two professions in this world-- a teacher and a policeman. Of course, they are my parents' and I grew up looking up to them. Life I thought was the kind of life I grew up with. Well, I haven't really figured it out until I was twenty-ish. Just like everyone else back home, I figured that a perfect and an easy life would be finishing college, finding a job in the government, building a family, growing old, and die. Plain. Simple. Happy. Well, that's what I at least see for some of my peers back home. Not that they have made it to the die stage, but looking at their photos in Facebook, the stability of their life seems to suggest that their life has been so predetermined just like death.

But then again, this post is not about death. In fact, it's about the opposite of it. It's about life and how I feel and view it at the moment. Have I figured my life already? No, definitely not yet. The truth is, I have been having existential dilemma since I stood on my thirty-ish. It's funny, isn't it? After existing for three decades on this planet, I haven't really figured my life yet. While for some, they already see themselves where they are going-- raising their kids, growing old with their partners, retiring from their job, and so on. As for me, I am lucky to have a wonderful husband I can tolerate growing old with, but the rest is just impeccably uncertain. Why impeccably-- because I see beauty in it. There is beauty in the uncertain, in the unknown. There is excitement and there is always something to look forward to. But it's scary.

I am scared. My life is no ordinary. Well, maybe because as a kid, I always had extraordinary dreams. Maybe, I am really destined for extraordinary adventures. Or, maybe. Just a maybe.

At thirty, I gave up my job at the government. It was supposed to lead me to the life I always thought would be. Stability, security, but boring. After coming back home from a 2-year life in New Zealand, there was just this desire in my heart to live in a different country once more. So I embarked living in Japan. Lo and behold! I arrived in Japan even before I was even mentally and physically ready for it. I was hoping to live here with Raymond and start building our family here. It would have been so easy as a slice of cake. Until I started to re-evaluate the things that truly mattered.

Since I left home to study at a University in Bicol, my life as a gypsy started. I was only 16 then. I was a soleful wanderer. My life was a series of moving out and moving in. I have lived in too many cities that I actually have lost count of them. From Bicol, to Cavite, to Pasig, to Mandaluyong, to Makati, to Laguna, to Cebu, to Baguio, and so on. My head literally aches trying to count each of them. Those were not even brief stays, well, the shortest I guess was in Laguna, I lived there for a month.

I remember one job interview I had with an old woman, after scanning through my resume, the first thing that came out her mouth was: "You're like a rolling stone." And to me it translated as, I am everywhere. I was confused. She made it sound like it was a bad thing but I thought it was otherwise. I thought it was liberating to be everywhere.

And it is. In every place I have lived in, a part of myself is ripped off me. Each of these places have changed me. And all these places count to who I am now. I have mastered the art of moving in and moving out into a place, and sadly, into one's life as well. The art of letting go for me is just a piece of cake. But this art is also expensive. It had to cost me my community, my friends, and my family.

And now that I am thirty, a few months to go before I turn into my first year of this decade, a question has been haunting me. A question concerning my existence. Do I want to keep the tides of life take me to many different shores until my bones weaken, until I get tired? Or is it about time to finally dock my ship into an island and start planting my roots there? The daunting truth is, I can't forever have the needed strength to sail ashore. I don't even know if there is still part of me that can be ripped off. I don't even know if there is still something left in me that I can share.

I am everywhere and thinking about it is exhalarating. I am blessed to have the chance to fill the desires of my insatiable soul. I have spent half of my life discovering new horizons. I have thousands of stories to tell. I have countless adventures I can always marvel on. I know that deep inside me, there is always this extraordinary dreamer. I don't have any plans to extinguish it at all. Not yet. A few more years, maybe? Until, I'm ready to say: I can finally stay. 😊

Now, it's clear. But not as clear as Coke Clear.

The Land of the Rising Sun: Prelude

June 2nd, Saturday
Kasama-shi, Ibaraki, Japan

This post will begin with a glass of wine.
The past three months have been a whirlwind of emotions. I never thought (who would, anyway) that March 10 would be a day marked by God to be the day when I will lose the only living parent I have-- my father.

I don't want to put much details in here. Not that, unlike other posts I usually get tired easily and unwillingly, but this time, I am not ready to face the details yet. They are but too painful to revisit.

After going through near-deaths-roller coaster-of-a-ride-ninety-days in my life, the tides of fates brought me once again to some unknown shore. The shores of East Asia-- the pained shores of Japan. I sometimes couldn't help but be amazed whenever I remember of that one fine afternoon, I was seated in one of the cozy seats in Starbucks, Mall of Asia (in fact, I am not even sure if that was in Starbucks). It was one of those days when I would silently write on my diary while enjoying lazily a grande frappucino of my favorite flavor-- choco java chip. I could remember ever so clearly how I draw the map of the world, highlighting New Zealand's two beautiful islands with an airplane beside it going in the direction to Japan. I never, to be completely honest, have ever thought to actually live in Japan. Only for some mundane reasons, such as being able to visit the Harry Potter's Theme Park and perhaps, get a taste of the authentic oriental aspect of Asia, there's nothing more. And fastforward from that day until today, here I am now: lying on my stomach, trying to make an attempt once again, in documenting these memories of living in the land of the rising sun.

June 13th, Wednesday
Kasama-shi, Ibaraki

Reading this post could be a waste of anyone's time, I'd suppose. Regardless, I'll keep going. My thoughts deserve some decent place to live in.

Every inch of my nerves right now is shaking. I had too much caffeine today. Thanks to the nurse-sensei who was sitting across me, giving me an almost-cupful of cold, dark (I mean, seriously dark) coffee after my final class for the day.

My emotions are all over the place. While OPM songs are on the background, I feel like the deepest part of my heart wants to just throw into tears and crying. Well, I have been incessantly crying since March. My crying is sometimes a form of healing and cleansing but most of the times, it's the manifestation of all my suffering. I thank God for my tears.

Now, let me go back to the reason why I am actually triggered to write again. Earlier in my afternoon class with 3rd graders and 5th graders, my pupils assessed their learning in my class. The thing is, I really am not used to getting assessed straight on. And earlier, that was a first! In a class of ten, 5 were happy about their learning in my class. Being 4 is the highest, among 10 pupils, 5 students rated their learning at 1. And some even commented that they did not understand the lesson and got bored. Okay, these are third graders!

On the other hand, out of seven pupils in 5th grade, 7 out of 7 said they enjoyed my class. I even heard them say in Japanese, "suki Eigo" which is translated to " (I) like English". Now, that's worth celebrating!

But why is it that I feel so glum and disappointed about those five who rated me low? Look, out of 17, 12 said they are happy and only 5 said they are not. Why do I magnify the negative and take for granted the positive?

This, in fact, is the current state of my disposition in life. Why is it too hard for me to magnify all the positive things in my life? Every day seems to be a hard toil. I seem to live every day only to get by. I only see pain and suffering, taking for granted the gift of breath God is giving me every day. Taking for granted the blue skies, the warmth of my blanket, the food I eat, the job I have, the life I have.

In the autobiography written by Dr. Frankl, the Meaning of Life, he said when man loses his reason to live, life becomes meaningless. And every day, that's the battle I face. Well, it could be so easy for some to say, "you have to get on with life", "there is nothing you can do to bring them (my parents) back, you don't have the choice but to go on living." The saddest thing about this is that you hear these words from the people you expect most to understand you.

I think, the greatest tragedy for a person who start to lose his or her reasons to live is to hear these words from people whom he or she expects to be the one comforting and condoling him or her. When all you need is to hear words of comfort from the people you love but you hear otherwise, where else would you be getting strength and reasons to live for?

When I was a kid, I did not have everything in life. I grew up in a financially struggling family. I pushed myself to chase my dreams, no matter how much it costs. My parents know that. My parents, more than anyone else, know me. And they've seen me making all my dreams to reality. From my academic achievements (which mama was always so proud of me) to my career milestones, passing the board exams, getting scholarship abroad (which papa always boasts how impressed he was of me). The thing here is, I lived all my life trying and doing my best to please my parents. And now that they're gone, I just feel all

There she is. It's thirty minutes past midnight. Her lashes are heavy, ever wanting to lay quietly on the softness of her under eyes. But she could not. Or maybe, she would not.

It's been her first month in another country. This time, it's Japan. For once or twice, it indeed came into her mind to set foot in the land of the rising sun. But never did she think she would be given a choice to live in the Eastern Orient for a while.

I used to count months, then weeks, and now, days. To be exact, I am now counting three days. Yes, three days. And to put it into hours, I only have 72 hours before finally waking up from this beautiful dream living in New Zealand. The clock is ticking and man, how I wish I can hold it for a few more hours, or perhaps days, or months, or years?!! But who knows, right?

And yet, the inevitable has to come. All that is left of me is the opportunity to immortalise this wonderful memory.  To paint every part of my wondrous adventure in a canvass created by my words. I wanted to document each of them just like what Mr. Bilbo Baggins did. I am so lucky and blessed, to have the same adventure in Middle Earth. 

An unexpected adventure in the Middle-Earth

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.  -Eleanor Roosevelt

In the small island of Masbate, there lived an ordinary girl with extraordinary dreams. 

Sa dulo ng dapit-hapon

Hindi pala ganun kadali mag-aral abroad. Lalo pa kung galing ka sa Pinas. Lumaki ka namang masipag mag-aral. Mahilig ka naman magbasa ng libro. Pero hindi pala ganun kadali kung sa sistemang kinalakihan mo, parating ikaw lang ang tagatanggap. Lumaki akong naniniwala na sa loob ng paaralan, kailangan ko matuto sa pamamagitan ng mga impormasyong isasalin sa akin ng aking mga guro. Mga impormasyon na ika nga nila "isusubo ko nalang".

Ngunit hindi ganun dito sa labas ng Pilipinas kong mahal. Hindi ganun dito sa New Zealand.

Malapit na akong magtapos sa isang taon kong kurso sa Educational Leadership. Awa ng Panginoon, kinaya ko naman ang mga araw at gabing pagmumukmok sa harap ng aking laptop. Sa awa ng Panginoon, may mga ideya namang kahit sapilitan kong pinipiga sa aking utak ay lumalabas parin. Sa awa ng Panginoon, nakakaya ko naman,

Pero iba ang pakiramdam ko ngayon. Pangalawang beses ko nang iniyakan ang hirap at pagod na dinadanas ng aking hamak na utak. Hindi ganoon kadali. Sobra, ang hirap. Mga pagkakataon na iiyak ka nalang at matutulala dahil hindi mo alam kung ano ang iyong mga isusulat. Iyong titingin ka nalang sa kawalan at mapapatulo nalang ang iyong mga luha dahil hindi mo alam kung paano ka magsisimula o magtatapos sa iyong akda.

Habang sinusulat ko ito, patuloy na nagngangalit ang apoy sa aking dibdib. Pakiwari ko'y ako'y nakikipagdigma sa mga ideyang pilit na humihiligpos sa kawalang di ko maarok. Ilang araw na lamang at kailangan ko nang ipagkaloob ang aking mga gawa sa aking propesor. At habang palapit ang mga araw, lalong humihigpit ang aking paghinga, lalong bumibilis ang pintig ng aking puso.

At sa kabila ng mga ito. Kailangan kong bumalik sa reyalidad. Kailangan kong bumalik sa pagsusulat ng aking akda....