I Came With The Hurricane, and I Will Go With It

Before I begin, here, play this:

 

Fiona Apple, "Why Try To Change Me Now?"

There are far too many things that I'd like to say, but cannot seem to articulate very well. I don't expect to be completely coherent, even as I have the time and the power to edit this piece, because I write from inside a tempest.

Some might call it mercury retrograde, but I am not one to completely credit the determination of my fate to the planets, especially not one as fiery and volatile as Mercury; it sits far too close to the sun to be reliable. Instead, it is the sum of all of my conscious, earthly decisions, taking the shape of not just a funnel, but a tornado.

Taking from my personal seasonal patterns, it seems that every so often, all the directional winds come together to create a perfect storm and take me for a whirl. Before the summer even ended and abruptly transitioned into habagat (southwest monsoon) I was already a step ahead; my season of great change started months ago, and all of it -- and I mean, ALL OF IT -- has built up to make landfall this week.

Boracay Island, in the middle of a storm. (c. January 2015)

I mean this quite literally: It has been a hell of a week. It is proving to be bittersweet, on the verge of heartbreaking, as I say goodbye to many things that I hold sacred, or have at least held sacred at some point. It's been a mix of saying goodbye to people; a job (the longest I've sustained); half of everything I own; habits (some good, some bad); places, and leaving them all at shore.

But these are physical goodbyes, and they hardly stop there. They sit on the surface, but are loaded with sentiment. This means leaving behind parts of myself that used to belong here, and to me, that don't quite fit in with the other pieces anymore: relationships; ideals; loves; what I used to want for myself; imagined notions of happiness, and the burnt-out parts of myself that were once ignited by what these notions used to be; behaviors; priorities; world views; a trapped mindset.

But I cannot deny that all these things have changed, nor can I deny this new person that is aching to break free. What she wants, and has always wanted, are crying out too loudly for me to still play deaf and dumb. And I will admit that it has been a painful process so far, to shed this skin, but I have barely begun. I never expected it to feel like I was mourning, but here we are.

If I am subscribing to the value of authenticity, then I owe it to myself to listen to what my heart has to say.  Her voice has been stifled for too long,and she is screaming for attention. Neither of us have felt like we've belonged where we have been situated, anyway. What makes her pound so hard that the rest of my body will jolt awake at 3 'o clock in the morning, and will not allow its return to sleep? What melts her rock to tears? What releases her butterflies?

And I know that many do not understand the decisions I've made -- why I needed to pull away and go (and maybe even go as far as burning a few bridges), why go so far, and why so abruptly. Rest assured, it has all been a matter of necessity, for the sake of self-preservation, among other things. It feels like the ripest time to wage war: against my comforts; my doubts and doubters; my fears; and the weight of my attachments, whether they be people or objects. Please do not get me wrong, I am terribly sad about most of it. But, now, more than ever, I have more means, courage, and a clearer sense of who I am and what I want. I can't change direction now. I can't lose focus now. Please accept this as my apology.

More than pleading for everyone to let me go, my biggest enemy is me: I have to let myself go. I realize that I am gambling it all, but I must detach -- be nomadic; loose; a free-radical; a gypsy. But at the end of the day, I will always know where my roots are, and I will forever be tethered to its land.

But for now I must go whirl in this tornado. And in the process, hopefully turn myself into a hurricane of a woman, too.

Conquering Mount Pinatubo, Among Other Things

Per the request of Brice -- a French friend whom I've met quite recently, but have grown to love immensely -- our friends and I booked ourselves a trip to Pinatubo as his last hurrah, as his three-month stay comes to an end. 

Of course, we oblige. After all, the guy has been nothing short of a sweetheart, and it was such a pleasure to have him. It was too short of a stay, but it's been a good run.

Pinatubros!

Other than that, I am often disappointed by how much of the Islands I haven't explored, despite being a homegrown Filipino. There was always some excuse not to do things -- brought about mostly by the people around me -- but now that I've pooled up resources and smarts, I see no excuse not to do it now.

And I'm afraid I've caught a bad bug, but I'll save that for another time.

===

We got in touch with RJTours.ph, as recommended by friends from Chalk Magazine, who gave RJ Tours rave reviews as a service. I am inclined to do the same, because they did make the trip so easy, and they did treat us very well. 

They picked us up at 5 AM, at our designated meet-up point. It was dark on the way out, but I did catch the sunrise. I missed out on everything else, as I was running on 2 hours of sleep from the night before.

By 7 AM, we had arrived at Base Camp -- Alvin's Homestay -- where we were greeted by Alvin, himself. Being a homestay, naturally, they would be accommodating, and have a warm, familial feel about the place. We were served breakfast, coffee, his dogs, his sleepy cat, and a couple of eagles. Yes, eagles. 

After breakfast and signing our lives away on waivers, we were off! 

Of course, I chose the red 4x4. It wasn't the most comfortable ride, but driving over all that volcanic rock, you really don't expect any other ride to be. I suppose our car's lack of suspension and jeepney-type parallel seating didn't help, but it is what it is. You'll only have to do it once... in your life. (There's still the trip back, so maybe twice today.) And if you've seen Mad Max Road Fury, I will say that it was exciting because it reminded me so much of the movie. "I live! I die! I live again!"

More than anything, I was surprised that the nausea that I normally get from bumpy rides did not act up. Like Penelope Cruz's character in Woman on Top, I have terrible motion sickness, unless I am in control (of the vehicle). But that is besides the point.

As you can imagine, the scenery of Crow Valley Canyon was dynamic in texture and color. There were wide planes of lahar, set against a background of green and ash mountains. Rocks came in varied colors, testament to the richness of minerals in the area. The rocks and the creeks that trickled through them were so ferrous, they looked like rivers of blood.

We arrived at the foot of the trek site, 28 kilometers away, about an hour and a half later. After settling our shaken heads, stomachs, and legs, we immediately began our trek. Apparently, there was a new trail that had opened up, which would take all of 30 minutes. This is the longest trail they offer now, and of course we took it; the Senior Citizen trail (this exists) was not an option. 

And then we arrived to this magnificent view:

I was awed by the view, obviously, but also by its significance. When Pinatubo erupted in 1990, I remember waking up in my house in Pasig City, and our floors were covered in volcanic ash. And now here I was, 25 years later, at the mouth of an historic volcanic eruption whose reach was so widespread and powerful that it helped patch up the ozone layer, and cooled global temperatures by 3 degrees. That's an amazing thought.

On another note, when I say that RJ Tours treated us well, I mean it. I was told that they would provide all of our food and refreshments, but coming from a Production background, I've always had low expectations of packed meals. But check this out: all that rice, 3 hearty pieces of super tender roast beef, veggies, and the best banana I've ever had. Plus, sturdy utensils. Nothing fancy or anything, but I am nothing but full of appreciation.

===

Perhaps it was because I was running on adrenaline to compensate for my lack of sleep, or caffein, or because I was surrounded by all that nature, or all those things combined, but I was so happy yesterday.

Of course, it brought up some points for reflection, as what I seem to be so keen on doing these days. Especially now, as I am at such a significant turning point in my life, I think of so many things, and try to dig up whatever truth I can from my experiences.

Being a speck in the vastness of Crow Valley Canyon, and looking out at its overwhelming size, it came upon me that you could be a free radical at the moment, but any direction you choose to go will take you somewhere, eventually. Hopefully, it will be where you need to be. I will be the first to admit that at this point, I am spinning around in circles, trying to figure out which way to go. Although I am narrowing down which directions seem viable, and looking at paths which might seem barren now, but show some semlance of promise for greener pastures. It doesn't make me any less nervous; in fact, it is giving me cold feet being so close to having to make a decision. But I'm going to have to move, and I'm going to have to do it soon.

On another note, it was at this very moment during the trek, when I took this photo was when it also dawned on me that the whole time I was hopping from rock to rock with my head downcast, my eyes sharply watching out for any loose ones that might cause me to lose my footing. Although I was agile with my footwork, all I could really see were my feet, which is not exactly what I came to enjoy the great outdoors for. We are often caught up with looking out for rocks to either skip, to avoid a problematic slip; or rocks that are stable enough to step on. So much thought goes on into what it takes to move forward. So much so, that we forget to look up and appreciate the bigger picture -- where you are, where you came from, what you are working towards. There is life all around you, and it flows freely, while you stand there whether, holding out, watching out or stepping out for your next move. You've already elevated yourself from the foot of the mountain. It will only be a matter of time until you get to the top. Just keep going. But remember to look up.

The end of our trip brought us back to Alvin's, where I was told the story of Fultro. He is a wild eagle, which an Aeta brought to Alvin for some care after he was left bloodied, with a broken wing. Because of this, Fultro has been grounded, and unable to fly. But has that robbed him of his true nature, his wilderness? No. Here he is, devouring what's left of the serpent he caught earlier in the day.

And that is Invictus, William Ernest Henley's words brought to life:

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

===

At this point, I will continue to explore different directions. Some may seem barren for now; others might seem to flourish from the onset. Either way, I wouldn't really be able to tell until I explore them further. But what can I offer? How do I go about it? Can I endure the journey?

But I suppose you never really know your power until you are put to the test. Pinatubo is not my first mountain, nor will it be my last. However, it is the one that has taught me the truth of being so good at being who and what you are, that your fire, greatness, and beauty will be spewing out from the deepest of your cores, and the world cannot help but stop, stand back and behold it. 

Reflections: The Mirrors of Myanmar

Normally, I have to think long and hard, and consider too many factors before I can commit to a travel invitation. But I was presented with the opportunity to go to Myanmar, and I could not pass up the chance. I believe my exact words were, "Fuck it, let's go."

I suppose I was so ready to go on this trip because, more than the thrill and the wanderlust, I have been yearning for that overwhelming feeling of something greater than myself, which, I've realized on the different degrees of my solo excursions, I get from traveling.

First, the journey. If you've never been there, here is an idea: A shoestring budget, limited time and unpredictable airline circumstances will create you a monster of an Amazing Race experience, if you'd like to imagine being on the show.

We flew from Manila at 7 AM, stopped with a 5 hours layover at Kuala Lumpur, and then landed at Yangon at around 7 PM (Myanmar time). Air Asia had rescheduled our flights to a later time than we had anticipated, so we had no choice but to deal with very little wiggle room. It took us literally 10 minutes to zip through all the other tired passengers on our flight, charm our way through Immigration, and have money changed to Kyat (the local currency). Why the rush? Well, we had to catch a sleeper bus, which was leaving at 8 PM, which was at a bus station not so far away, but with Yangon rush hour traffic, we were kind of pushing it. I may have bitten off a quarter of a nail from panic. We made no arrangements to lodge in Yangon.

After wading through all foliage of cars, people, puddles, and mud, clearly the bus hadn't left us. We sat ourselves in our surprisingly comfortable, fully-reclining seats, and woke up in Bagan at 5 AM, the next morning. If you've kept up, and are doing the math, that was 24 hours of being en route, alone.

Two full days of temple running in Bagan, and put the whole process in reverse (and barely 45 minutes, amidst a very complicated system of connecting flights at the KL airport), and that was the whole, arduous, exhausting, heart-pounding, trip.

No kidding, I lost 3 lbs. 

Clearly, Myanmar was beautiful. I loved it all -- 

its flavors, odors, and colors; 

the heat of its air, and the chill of its people; 

Its abundance of culture, and its absence of noise;

the humility of its monks, and the pride of its pagodas.

But of the many things that this trip was to me, it was mostly --

An Exercise in Detachment

For the cosmopolitan Manileña, it is difficult to comprehend having to go 24 hours without showering, or brushing your teeth (which should be simple and quick enough to do). But we really just did not have enough time to get any of these done. A superficial concern, I know. But consider the very image-conscious/-driven industry which sustains my livelihood, where I drown in messages of vanity and gloss. I've been a slave to it long enough to say that "looking cute" is an imposed priority.

But we were running through airports, unbrushed, unshowered, uncombed. And it was great.

Firstly, I like not having to put make-up on -- big words for someone who used to be a makeup artist. I no longer want to care about who cuts my hair -- big words for someone who has spent over 10 years with the same hairstylist, and whose mane is indicator by which she is spotted in a crowd. There is not another party that I feel the need to go to where I have to dress up to impress anyone -- big words for an events planner.

We observed the Buddhist monks. They live on nothing much but their robes and prayers. While they roam the city for food, I live a life of numbing excess -- I have more of everything than I know what to do with. Has it made me happy? Is there joy in suffocation?

When traveling, you are afforded the very special privilege of being self-reflective without looking at a mirror. You are alone with yourself, at your own devices, to face your own demons. You have not the time nor the facilities to care about appearances. And running through airports, riding through dust, falling from a bike on a dirt road -- It was such a welcome change, and for someone who is commencing the next chapter of her journey towards self-discovery, this concern in valid. I can drop the facade; strip off the masks of makeup, gloss, smoke, mirrors, and all my guards.

That brings me to a question of authenticity. Who am I, underneath it all? My passions (or are they past times?) dwell relatively on the surface. But, what drives me? What do I live for? When all the noise shuts off, what does my heart ache for? What's it going to take for me to fight for it? What is my truth? I am determined and excited to find out who I will discover within myself after I've rid myself of all my forged, but ultimately unnecessary attachments. 

An Exercise in Patience
One of the most notable things that I took away from Myanmar is: as beautiful as it is, it is HOT. It is sweltering. We went to tour Bagan on bicycles, and the wind blowing against our faces felt like we were standing in front of a fire. We also noticed that the cars that drove past us, all had their windows rolled down. Outside of the hotels, there is no air conditioning. And there were no electric fans anywhere in the middle of the desert. I asked our cab driver, Theung, why this was so. All he did was shrug and say, "There is no need for it," which was both much less and much more of a response than I expected. It was such a simple, ready answer, but it bore the full weight of all the "problems" that really don't need to be.

Not that I had any right to complain; I come from the tropics. I learned a long time ago that complaining will get you nowhere. Especially if it is the heat that you're complaining about. You will never hear me complain about the heat. In some ways, Myanmar has it better than Manila, because at least over there, it isn't humid. But that's besides the point. What good is complaining going to do?

I will be the first to admit that I am quite impatient. Being that my world is frenetic, I sometimes have no choice but to rush. Alas, instant gratification is an addiction.

In the same vein of Detachment, and having not wont for material possessions, is the value of Patience -- accepting situations as they are, and allowing them the time and the space to unfold. So what if it is a little hot? Not everybody has the privilege of adjusting their indoor climate.

Don't get me wrong: I don't denounce pro-activity. I do take pride in being able to take the reigns of situations and adjusting them according to my liking and comfort. The point that I mean to drive at is that when situations are uncomfortable, instead of fighting it, take reign over the factors that you do have some control over, let the rest happen naturally, and take a learning away from the experience.


===

Admittedly, these are difficult pills for me to swallow. Only because it will require such a drastic shift away from who I believe I used to be -- my priorities, my beliefs, my daily habits, my world views. Being at a personal crossroad, the constant battle these days is between fighting and free-falling -- Which battles will you fight, and which do you walk away from? Which leaps will you jump, and which falls will you take?

The irony is that the absence of literal and figurative mirrors is possibly the most effective catalyst to self-discovery. That begs the question of whether or not who you seem is, in fact, who you are. Is it? The resolution is to perhaps cultivate a mindset that is less concerned about how things seem, and leave room to just let them be. Put the mirror down. Let nature run the show.