Life is like a marathon

I have some time in my hands today, which is a blessing.  August has been filled with many duties, spending two holidays to work. But so happy to share with you that the first part of the job has been completed, and I have now passed on the baton to the next person who will complete the project.

Ah, life is like a marathon, don't you think?  I recently watched the film, Without Limits, which chronicles the life of Steve Prefontaine, an American long-distance runner who was the greatest runner of his time.  Sadly, he died a a young age of 24 in a car accident. 

Pre, as he was fondly called, saw running as an art.  He said, "Some people create with words or with music or with a brush and paints. I like to make something beautiful when I run."

"I like to make people stop and say, 'I've never seen anyone run like that before.'  It's more than just a race, it's a style. It's doing something better than anyone else. It's being creative."

I've never heard anyone describe running as an art form before. He loved running with a passion.  I thought, life should be lived like that with as much passion one can muster – focusing one's energy, time and resources into creating a beautiful life.

To me a beautiful life means finding that true joy and contentment knowing that you are doing what you were meant to do in this life. If a runner, to run well. If a business person, to do business to the best of one's abilities.

To be able to use all that we've got and at the end of our lives to be able to tell God as Erma Bombeck puts it, "I used everything You gave me," that benefited others not only myself. The gifts we have received are not meant to be kept (reminds me of the parable of the talents) but are meant to be multiplied and shared. We are blessed to be a blessing.

I've seen runners prepare for a marathon and it takes a lot of discipline and perseverance. Simply put, it is hard work. There are days, one does not want to get up and do it.  But as Pre would say, "To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift."

He considered every day as a gift, especially when he was running. I presume that it wasn't always pleasant. There are days when you want to stop, and you wonder why you are doing all that you are doing. But there is something to be learned about Pre, he loved running even when it hurt and he kept on moving towards his goal.

Well, there are indeed days one needs to grit his or her teeth and just do it. It's the first step that's always the hardest but when the feet finds its rhythm, running becomes joy. It is a bliss, like life. 

Life is a gift and all that we have are simply entrusted to us. We need to make the most of what we have because whether we like it or not, there is a finish line. The clock is always ticking.

We will need to pace ourselves in order to win this race called life, so as not to be burnt out and be able to do more. Rest when you need to and when you've replenished yourself, run again. Perhaps, it's not the winning that matters in the end but the fulfilling of one's purpose. No matter how late we start in life, what matters is what we did what we came here to do. 

For what point is there for all our sacrifices -- the waking up early or staying up late for work, to provide for our loved ones, to serve people, to create and endure even when no one recognizes our efforts -- what is its worth if not to fulfill the purpose for which we are called. And in fulfilling our calling in life, we are able to love others. Because love is above all else, it should be the reason why we run, why we live.

When we get to the point in the middle of the race when we wonder why we are doing these sacrifices in the first place, for what reasons are there, for what is it worth, hopefully we are doing it for heaven's reasons for putting us on this earth. To do what we love, and to share what we love, to bring back to our Giver the praise.

"Pain is temporary, but quitting is forever," Lance Armstrong says. It is the same of our faith and hope. When we stop believing that at the end of all our suffering is something good, a dream fulfilled, a mission accomplished, a soul healed, and when we give up too easily, we lose immediately. Don't waste your pain, endure until you fulfill your purpose, and you will find joy in reaching your goal. But enjoy the process as well, for life is an amazing journey.

Perhaps, it is not the medal nor the time, but the running of the race, the getting up every day to do what we were created to do that makes life meaningful.  That recognition or a pat in the back will be a reward and a bonus, but should not be the main reason why we run. We run because we love running. We run because we love even when it hurts at times. But we keep moving forward.

I remember reading in Kerygma magazine (May 2011) about this running team, Vinci and Kathy Carag, who shared about their love for running. Kathy remembers a time when she was running under the heat of a searing noonday sun and she came to a point when said to herself, "I don't want to run anymore!" 

Perhaps, we have experienced that too, when we are exasperated and say, "I don't want to do this anymore," being exhausted and wanting to give it all up. But fortunately for Kathy (and hopefully for us too), she forged on, endured the pain, realizing that there are things we need to do even if doing so makes us uncomfortable. Giving up should not be an option.

"In life, there will be times when God will make us do things we're not comfortable with," she said.  Uncomfortable would mean speaking up even when one is shy, going out of our comfort zone to where God is leading us, to face the fear and take the risk, to do the things we would rather not do but need to do for the sake of those we are called to serve and love. If we don't do it, neither we, nor the other person will grow and improve.  We need to help each other to move forward and sometimes what it takes to do that is painful but needs to be done.

Her husband Vinci shares that, "In as much as endurance is the key to completing a marathon, it is also needed in a more important race – our life as Christians."

"As I run, I've come to realize that the strength to finish the race, to win, does not come from me. There is Someone whose power protects me from getting injured, from suffering from cramps and falling."  

Whenever they finish a grueling marathon, the Carags recognize that they did so not on their own strength.   

Isaiah's words ring true for them. There is a promise we can hold on to when the going gets tough: 

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint."

Make the Lord your companion in your journey and you will never be lost. Sure there are times it will be uncomfortable, even painful, but keep moving forward with God on your side and you'll get to where you want to go.

May you run the race of life with confidence knowing that God is your strength. May you also share your strength with others, encouraging them in their own races in life.

Always run for love and don't give up!

Of Tracks and Things

One of the things I look forward to doing everyday is riding the train. It seems strange to like it especially since where I live in, trains are anything but serene. Often, you may need to squeeze yourself in like a sardine to fit in rush hour evenings at the metro rail transit. But on wonderful occasions, especially in the mid-mornings and late evenings, spaces are freed up and it becomes a joy to take the train at the LRT 2.

I don't know why I love trains. Perhaps, I am inspired by its state of one-trackedness. Its sense of focus appeals to me. As I look from the glass window outside to the vehicles below, I tell myself that I would rather suffer a few minutes of inconvenience standing inside the train than endure the pain of endless traffic. But I won't mind being a passenger in a car, spending time with family and friends if I had all the time in the world.

Ah, time. That's it. I seem to be always in a hurry to get to my destination, hence the need to take the train. But for a few minutes there, seating beside someone with their earphones blasting loudly, I feel for their ears but grateful for their seeming company, sharing in their music and reverie.

Sometimes I smile at people, and I chuckle inside and wonder at times at conversations I can't help but listen to, very sorry for eavesdropping sometimes but I guess I am what they call a captive audience ;)...I realize now why I love trains because it allows me to be with people from all walks of life.

Life is like a train ride. We share this common journey, although we have different destinations. At this moment in time, we are together, sharing a common space and though more often than not lost in our own thoughts, I realize that we do not live in a vacuum. We live in a world of strangers who can be our friends...there is that possibility, a choice to be made, to reach out to one and turn them into someone we can share the journey with.

When I ride in the mornings, I can see the beauty of the Sierra Madre mountain ranges in the horizon. Yes, there are actually mountains to be seen in our urban jungle and despite my hurried life at the start of the day,  the sight of these mountains refreshes me. Their natural beauty reminds me to take things slowly, to breathe deeply and take time to appreciate my surroundings and the people around me.

In the evenings, I love standing on the platform, waiting for the train. I am delighted whenever I see its headlights coming from far away. It seems that no matter how long the wait, the train always comes. Strangely enough, it gives me hope. And when the train is filled up to the brim, there is always another one on its way. Sometimes, life surprises too. You find a train that you enjoy with poetry posted on its walls.

Life is like a train. I love them because whatever they do, they don't seem to get off-track. They are always traveling on their rightful path, unlike me, who can be easily distracted and get out-of-focus at times.  Fortunately, one can also pray quietly in the train. This helps me get back on track again and focus on the essentials in life. I am blessed because I get to ride the train regularly and see things from another perspective. Every time I get off, I seem to become a better version of me.

It's nice to stumble upon happiness in the most ordinary of things. We continue to learn and grow, whenever we keep our eyes and hearts open to the gifts life wants to share with us, even if they are wrapped in something as simple and unassuming as a train journey.

Life is beautiful. The journey matters as much as the destination. Thanks to http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2245/2138430683_b351acd7b8 for the inspiring
 image of the train tracks taken at sunrise. 

Song of the week:  Where you Go by The Young Romans. Such an awesome song from an inspiring film, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. Its upbeat tempo seems like good company to take on a run.

Next time, let's talk about how life is also like a marathon...

The Fragile Life of Ants

I washed the dishes today. There was nothing extraordinary about it except that there were ants in the sink. I couldn't bear the thought of drowning them. So I waited for them to leave by tapping the steel. Perhaps it felt like an earthquake in the ant world and many scrambled out into safety. Less than a minute or so and they were out of the sink except for two with a tiny piece of bread crumb that they patiently carried out together. I have always admired ants for their hard work, they toil all summer to store food for the rainy days. 

It is the sun's time to shine warmly upon us and the ants are a witness to the change of weather. They sense that it is time to work hard again and so they risk their lives with their fragile bodies to get food wherever they can, to the frustration of humans who cannot wait to get rid of them.

Yet, they press on to do their job. They too feel the need to survive and they courageously face the world where they can be easily crushed with pressed fingertips.

I could not bear to inflict the pain. So I waited patiently for the rest to get out. A few took their time, it seemed they were lost and did not know where to go. The faster ones have left them behind. Even in the ant world it was always the aimless ones who were likely to suffer the most.  

I opened the faucet carefully and water trickled down, I did not want to drown any but sadly there were casualties. As they joined the soap suds down the drain my heart went out to them. How vulnerable ants were like the poor in our streets. They get left behind often and many people ignore them.

They too need our understanding and support and even though the world sees them as small, they have every right to be here. They deserve to live well and be happy.

Life is an Airport

There is something beautiful about airports. Whenever I step upon a tarmac, I feel all giddy and excited inside. It's nice to feel like you are going somewhere where new experiences await or going back to the place you love. At the airport, people feel welcomed, loved ones are awaited, strangers get ready for a time of adventure.

Airports facilitate our comings and goings. The in-between, the waiting to fly, makes it all worth it when your time arrives.

In many ways, life is a journey. We must keep on moving on, growing. Travel allows us to do that. It helps us understand what matters most. The preparation for travel allows us to take only what we need (or else we suffer from the consequences of excess baggage or the frustration of having to carry heavy stuff we can do without). Travel helps us to take stock. And in a lot of ways, heals us. We begin to consider the things we take for granted and remember those who mean most to us. Travelers, I believe, learn to live their lives wiser, to choose better, to risk more, to open their minds without losing their core (identity).

In lonely times, when I am wanting a friend to talk to, I just dream of places I long to see, new friends yet to meet, and new adventures to discover and I feel better.

I have a map of the world in my room, which I turn to when I feel sad or bored and just want to expand my sense of earth. I dream of traveling and meeting new people, immersing in cultures, writing about them. I want to describe God's magnificent creation, the diversity and uniqueness of it all, taking the time to talk to people, touching the trees, mesmerized by the sea.

I hope someday my dreams will turn into tarmac and geography into faces and fellow travelers sharing the wonders of the world.

Run for Love

Today, I ran 5 kilometers for Enervon Prime's marathon to benefit Hands on Manila, an organization in the Philippines which moblizes individuals wanting to volunteer and extend a helping hand to charities and non-profits.

What makes runs like these special is that you run for a purpose and that gives marathons a whole new meaning.

I was so excited that I only slept for 3 hours, not a very good idea I know! I was scared I was off to a bad start. Thankfully though, I survived. In a way, the run was like a small victory for me, as I finished the race on borrowed rubber shoes (thanks Acel:) in under 40 minutes, a goal I set for myself. The first to cross the finish line was at 15 minutes and 5 seconds. He was a breeze. I wish I could run like that.

But I am happy to report about my progress because two years ago, I ran a 10 kilometer fun run for 2 gruelling hours at the Gawad Kalinga-Adidas King of the Road race. When I finally reached the end, everyone was already busy doing their own thing, mindless that there are still people limping their way in.hehe. I was the second to the last to reach the finish line. It was a very humbling experience in which I learned a lot.

To be honest, there were so many times in that race that I wanted to give up or to take the shortcut but I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. What kept me going was remembering the reason why I was doing it in the first place. It was because we were running for love.

We were running for those who were losing hope and those who could not run for themselves because of poverty. I know, life can be tough. But it is even tougher for those who have nothing short of a foundation in which to begin a dignified life. In a way, we run to lend our strength. A means to be in fellowship with those who suffer, to show by example that there is a path to hope. Together, as my brother's keeper, we could finish the race of life no matter how difficult. It has been proven that at the end of it all, our efforts would not be in vain. Lives restored, even if only one, would make all the sacrifice worth it. For this, I ran. For them, I sought to finish the race.

The work of nation building and development (and life in general) is one of endurance. The key is to persevere and to always keep your vision in mind. We must keep moving forwad but also not leave the poor behind on the way to progress and our personal pursuit of happiness and success. We need to give one another a chance to succeed. Walang Iwanan.

Today, I remembered Tatay Sergio, GK Libmanan's very own village haircutter. His face kept popping into my head. The sufferings he has endured throughout his life inspired me to keep moving forward.

Now at last he can breathe in the beauty that he so rightfully deserves because there were heroes who journeyed to his community and chose to also carry his burden, gave him a good home, a pair of sharp scissors, and a concrete source of hope that things were possible, that heaven has not abandoned them...

On the final lap as exhaustion began to set in and the lack of sleep began to take its toll, a song came out of nowhere and found itself on my mouth and I sang to myself: "Prepare the Way...(by Darrel Evans)." Time is clicking away and it is time to make a difference when the mind is still sharp and the body is capable.

Life is a race. Life is more meaningful though when you have someone to run it for. Dear friend, always run for love and don't give up because someone needs you in this world.

See http://gkieadvocate.blogspot.com for more meaningful runs.

The Art of Living

Last week was spent studying painting under maestro Tito Joey Velasco whose freshly painted masterpiece is shown above. Amazingly, I learned more than sketching and got a crash course on the art of living.

I've been reflecting on the certainty of death since last Tuesday when I tagged along Tito Joey to visit his friend's dad who was dying. Since I didn't know anyone, I quietly waited and witnessed the family waiting for their father to breathe in his last. I noticed that when a person is dying his breathing is farther-in-between, takes longer, is much deeper and more deliberate. It is so far from how we normally breathe as we inhale and exhale without even thinking. At about 6 in the morning, Tatay Poly inhaled his last.

A big lesson I'm taking home is learning how to breathe deeply, sucking the marrow out of life. Ah, breath of life. The free gift we normally take for granted.

A lot of things come to mind after this night: the movie Bucket List where 2 cancer patients make a list of the things they want to do in life given their limited amount of time. Tito Joey's realization of the freedom and courage that the certainty of dying gives for one to do the things he wants without fearing what other people would say. After all, there is nothing left to lose only regret. This wise advice coming from a survivor of a terminal disease himself. And recently, I am reminded of Bo Sanchez's advice to Live like a Dying Man. I agree with him when he says, that "You don't need to have cancer to change your life."

Life is short, my friends. Unless we accept this truth, we can never really truly live because we will have the tendency to take time for granted as if our days are without end. I am equally guilty of squandering time as I love to sleep a lot, too much, that I miss on some wonderful awakenings.

"Time is a slippery thing," Tito Joey said. "A lot of people go through life half-awake." I was jolted from my sleepiness.

Tito Joey shared that, "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important realization I've ever had to help trigger God's gifts. Because all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. There is no reason anymore not to follow your heart."

He counsels, quoting Steve Jobs who said, "Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become."

I realized that anything is possible in this life. It's really up to us if we want to create a masterpiece out of our lives. Beginning today, I choose to breathe more deeply and start living life with zest.

On a final note, seated there at Tatay Poly's death bed, I saw what was truly important. He was surrounded by family and friends whispering loving words to him. He even managed to teach a total stranger (me) without saying anything. Such is the kindness of his life.

This must be the art of living: For death to have meaning, our lives must have meant something. And that something is all about love...

---
Here's to seizing the day. I managed to check one of the "things to do" on my bucket list. Ah the smell of fresh paint! I love it. Here are my very amateur paintings. The first one, I copied a picture from an American artist, the original is sooo much better. But I love how the French define amateur to mean "lover of". Amateur, from the Latin amatorem "lover," and from amare "to love." If this is the case, then let us live life like amateurs, with passion and zest! :) Trying is better than regretting. Trying is everything. In this spirit, I humbly share with you my very first paintings.

Life is like the falling leaves

Last last Tuesday, I attended the burial of the father of a dear friend. This was the third time this year that I witnessed the passing of a friend's parent. The first one was in February, when I came into the hospital room, minutes too late, to see for the first time someone lie very very still in a hospital bed.

The previous week seemed to cap those experiences when I used to fear death. When I was younger I would be afraid to look inside a casket. As a child my grandmother would bring me along during wakes of her friends in her small town and she would be afraid to look, and I would be forced to look and I couldn't sleep without the lights on after that. As I looked inside her casket two years ago, I remembered how afraid she was and how she probably finds it funny now as her spirit looks over my shoulder. All's well that ends well. After all, the Lord tells us not to be afraid of man who cannot kill our spirit but be afraid of the one who has the power to cast our souls into the pit.

I,like some of you, am not really afraid of a dead body but more of the idea of death, about what lies in the path where all of us must thread. As I sat on the burial of my dear friend's father's wake, it was a holy kind of sad, but sweet at the same time. For deep in our hearts we knew that even though his former life has passed away, he is about to live the fullness of life with God in heaven. I can almost hear Jesus say, go my child, your faith has saved you.

For no matter how old we get, we are God's children for eternity. And though I cannot explain it as scholars would, I see and share the faith of a child that heaven is real without a doubt. It is this deep comfort that God gives us at the point when our hearts are squeezed at the passing of a loved one. There is a hopeful promise that we will all meet again in heaven. It is not only words of consolation but a simple truth. There is a happy reunion we can all look forward to.

As they say however, it is always hard for the leavee than the leaver. Yes, it is true for all manners of death, death like the ending of a friendship, a relationship or a person moving to another state or country.

In the end, life does go on and the difference between the physical dying and the emotional dying is that we find immediate closure in the physical burying of a dear one, whereas we must contend with the healing of broken heart, which may be a long process. This is not to say that physical death does not also entail emotional healing for the loved ones left behind, it does, very much so. They also require healing of the heart and of the soul, when their spirits are battered after months or years of battling along with a loved one for his or her life.

They too die a little each day. And as the certainty of death finally comes, the left ones must begin anew. And this is where time becomes a friend.

Fear not, God says, he is with you through the roller coaster ride of life. Remember last year, I told you about autumn in my life, a season of pruning, of letting go of things that no longer work. That was also a kind of death. But on the other hand, while I thought of autumn, it was spring in other parts of the world, and life went on as it should. It is for this reason, that I feel death is not the end,it is only a part of life, as Forest Gump's mother says. After death, there is always life, even in nature.

This month, is the season of falling leaves, when trees shed their dried hands to prepare for their new greens, in spring. But in between is a process of shedding and preparing.

There were falling leaves, when Tito Marcial went to be with God. Even the sky cried. Yet, after the rains, the clouds broke into a sunshiny smile as if heaven was saying, do not despair, there is always hope. Our greatest hope is being with Him.

Tito Mars was - as his spirit remains - a gentle, kind and loving father and husband to his wife and children. I remember Tita Lydia sharing with me after the rains has ceased that she was really afraid of thunder but it was her husband who would often assure her not to be afraid of the thunder, because it meant that the rains were coming, and it was necessary for watering the plants, to make them grow...to make us grow Ruby...

Thank you Tito Mars for being a good father to my sister Ruby. And for being a good wife to ninang Lydia. I look at your life and I am inspired. Because you lived simply but you loved very much. You knew what was important in life and that was family.

I think also of the GK heroes who have died while serving others. I think of Tito Warly who died last month while he was placing pavers on the pathwalk at GK Capri village in Quezon City. I think of Tito Abeng of GK Baseco who died in September while hugging the award given to him by the youth (SIGA) for having served them so devotedly.

You lived a truly meaningful life. You are the reason why God made heaven. And we are blessed.

...so there I was sitting on a patch of land where the dead was buried and I thought to myself this is what life is all about...to give meaning to death, our lives should have meant something...

A New Chapter

"I sometimes say to myself, that were the offer made me, I would engage to run again, from beginning to end, the same career of life. All I would ask, should be the privilege of an author to correct in a certain edition certain errors of the first." -- Benjamin Franklin

Life is like a book and we are its authors. We create our own stories and make our own plot. There are times when we would want to edit something we have written but we simply can't. For the ink that writes the book of our lives is unchangeable and permanent. An error that has been committed cannot be erased. It is forever written in the leaves of the past.

Yet we can always reread what has happened and learn from our mistakes. And then, rest for a while, as a good writer does, contemplating on the lessons of yesterday, hoping to make a better story tomorrow.

This is a time for new beginnings, new experiences, and new doors. Today, as in any day, when one finally decides to change, is an opportunity to create a bestseller.

Allow me to turn the pages of my life and share them with you. To God, our lives' Publisher, be the glory and honor forever! Only He can help us write a classic. Welcome to the pages of my life.

(Book photo courtesy of Instituto Cervantes in Manila)