HUMILITY IN THE WORK PLACE

IN JANUARY, I was tasked with delivering a pep talk for our agency as part of our Monday flag-raising ceremony. It was just a few days before the historic pastoral visit of Pope Francis to our country. Because of this, I chose to discuss the very virtue the "People’s Pope" is most known for: humility.

Pope Francis embodies deep humility. To him, humility means intentionally spending time with the people we find hard to live with—those we probably like the least. He actively denounced self-importance when he preferred a modest, two-room residence over the grand papal apartment in the Vatican's Apostolic Palace. He showed it again when he waited in line with regular employees at the Vatican canteen, and when he gave up his private chauffeur to take the bus to work.

When we speak of humility through the lens of the Pope’s examples, it is easy to sound deeply religious, as if preaching church doctrine. And why not? Humility is considered the mother of all virtues, and one of the most important lessons Jesus Christ imparted to his disciples, believers, and all present-day Christians. Scripture teaches us that God cannot work through us if we are consumed by pride.

The word humility comes from the Latin root humus, meaning "earth" or literally "on the ground." St. Thomas Aquinas noted that humility "consists in keeping oneself within one’s own bounds, not reaching out to things above one, but submitting to one’s superior." [1] This aligns perfectly with the Catholic Church's definition: humility, in a higher and ethical sense, is that by which a person has a modest estimate of their own worth and submits themselves to others. 

CLASS '89 HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

WE WERE one in singing "Farewell," a ballad by Bagets star Raymond Lauchengco and a favorite graduation song of our time. It was a fitting way to say goodbye to our beloved alma mater, our teachers, our best friends, and the rest of our schoolmates. For the Class of 1989 of Narvacan National Central High School, graduation marked the end of a youth filled with intense emotions and excitement. It closed the chapter on our seatmates, group projects, high school crushes, the JS Prom, extracurricular activities, and the music we played during school programs. The friendships that had officially begun four years earlier had reached a turning point, and the years ahead would test our commitment to staying in touch.

Right after high school, we went our separate ways. While most of our classmates from the Acacia section trooped to Manila or Baguio for college, I stayed in Ilocos with Romano Peralta, Gilda Damayo, Mayrene Pintado, Joan Cauton, Jerry Cabanit, and Carolina Filarca. We enrolled at and graduated from the University of Northern Philippines in Vigan.

A LETTER TO MOTHER

Dear Inang,

I'm sorry this comes late for Mother's Day. During that day, I couldn't write a single note for you. I tried, but all I could remember was that morning in the kitchen a month before. It was the most poignant scene, the one I could easily recall; though at that time, I didn't realize its effect on me. I think of it now, like a reader flipping through the pages of an old photo album, turning back to that event in just one glance.

It was the morning I arrived with my brother and two sisters from the hospital in San Fernando. Tatang, whom we fetched with a hired ambulance, was lying lifeless, half-covered with a blanket on the wooden bed in the sala. While everyone around me was crying and groaning, I stood there frozen. My heart was in ecstatic pain. I was looking out the window, but seeing nothing. I was contemplating our loss when you suddenly came to me, held my shoulder, and sobbed.

5 YEARS OF FACEBOOKING

IT WAS December 22, 2008, when I opened my Facebook account at the invitation of Arlyn, a law school classmate. This was more than four years after Mark Zuckerberg and his peers first introduced the online social networking service to their fellow Harvard students. A day after my name and ID photo cropped up in a blue-and-white corner of cyberspace, my cousin Danny Cadorna—whom I had not seen since he left for Japan in 1994—sent me my first-ever friend request. Soon, other relatives, friends, former classmates, coworkers, and even strangers requested to join my friends list. They say that most people who know how to use a computer and the internet have a Facebook profile. Unsurprisingly, in just a short span, my notifications swelled with requests to connect, play games, join groups, and "like" various pages.

GRIEF RECOVERY FICTIONS

READING BOOKS has become my lifeline in coping with grief. After my wife passed away, I began consuming books obsessively, desperately trying to fill the quiet hours where thoughts of my loss might otherwise take over. Keeping myself busy in the days immediately following her death acted as a crucial pain reliever; I found I was always at my loneliest when I wasn't reading.

During this period, I scoured bookstore shelves and e-book lists for any literature on grief. I hoped these books would offer the wisdom needed to understand my experience, speaking to me on a personal level in the quiet solitude of my darkest days. I was looking for a lifeline to carry around, but I found no success—or perhaps I simply didn't know where to look. I am not a religious person, nor am I particularly drawn to inspirational books, though I have read a few.

ON REWRITING

‘I’m not a very good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter.’ ~ James Michener

REWRITING makes the difference between good writing and poor writing. James Michener and other literary greats have left us with invaluable reminders about the vital importance of this process. Whenever I feel dissatisfied with my writing style, or find myself unable to finish a story or an article, their wisdom reaches me like a breath of fresh air in a humid room.

Now, every time I open a document, I edit a little here and there, making mental notes of the elements I want to change. If I find that progress has stalled entirely, I rewrite—and, when necessary, overhaul almost everything in the draft. As one author beautifully put it: it is perfectly okay to write garbage, as long as you edit brilliantly.

Living in an era of accessible computers and word processing software is a massive advantage; these tools have immensely simplified my rewriting tasks. I can hardly imagine how painstakingly Michener must have labored at his typewriter, writing and rewriting long notes to complete his manuscripts before finally submitting them to his publisher. Michener admitted that he worked very slowly, requiring constant revision to craft his best-selling historical fiction novel, Hawaii. He had to type roughly three million words, only to trim the final version down to about half a million before embarking on yet another round of drafting.

SUMMER CINQUAINS

i crossed 

the valley bridge;

found and lost her again,

and left the summers of my heart

behind.

that was

a bright full day;

saw her, gone forever,

and threw my own sweet monsoon dreams

away.

the next bridge...

some other place,

other space, how and where?

i'll just cross the next one when i--

get there.

The resort in Gonzaga town, Cagayan, is aptly called STR, or Sirok ti Rangtay (Under the Bridge). To reach the riverbank, you have to pass beneath the structure, where you will find a scenic picnic area and newly built, hotel-style rooms for overnight visitors.