How A Frog Bags A Princess (a.k.a. My Love Story) Part 2 of 2

Due to insistent public demand, (if 3 requests can be considered public) I now post part 2 (If you have not yet done so please read first Part 1 can be found here.)

What About Me?

Yeah, what about me? I had quietly asked this question when I sensed that God wanted Vanè for himself. Slowly, the years we spent apart showed that while it was true that God wanted Vanè for himself, I missed the other half of His divine equation (well, I was never good even at human math): that he wanted me for Himself as well. So explains my detour to the brotherhood—because there God showed me the deeper intent of His love, helping me grow in self understanding, and honed me for life in the best possible way.

If Only I had Two Hearts[1]

Advent 1993. Towards my second year in the brotherhood, my spiritual director and I decided it was time for me to finally decide on my state of life, especially that I was not getting any younger, and by that time had enough data and experience to decide if single blessed life was for me. As for my career, I was already sure that I was called to teach and was well into my master’s degree in Theological Studies. The next two months would prove to be one of the most challenging moments in my life. At that point, I had come to almost equally appreciate the two states of life, and felt ready to pursue which of the two the Lord desired for me.

There lies the beauty, and the crisis. I believe that for those who sincerely discern their state of life, the choice between single life and marriage needs to come to a temporary deadlock—a point where the discerner finds it almost impossible to choose between the two. This deadlock is a result of a greater appreciation of the beauty of both expressions as a way of serving God. Most people will be called to marriage, that’s for sure, but what is saddening is most never get the chance to really appreciate the beauty of living single for God—and this ignorance breeds contempt and fear. This ignorance partly accounts for the dwindling numbers of those who are pursuing single blessed or religious life because very few parents encourage their children to even investigate them.

A whole gamut of feelings swept over me during that period of discernment. I knew that the simple solution would just be to turn the ball over to God’s court: “You decide, Lord. I’ll do whatever you say.”

This i learned is a crucial attitude—surrender. Be prepared though, because oftentimes He will not respond. If He does, often it will be to say “Good, I call the shots. Now my sovereign mandate for you is to tell me how you really want to serve me.” Then both of you will seem to play holy Ping-Pong for a while.

In that exhausting exchange, I hesitated because I did not trust my sense of judgment. Remember that I joined the brotherhood partly to escape my whimsicality and hardheadedness. There lay my struggle, because deep inside, I was afraid of myself, afraid of committing the same mistake I ran away from in my relationship with Vanè. God, however, wanted me to realize that “there is no fear in love: but perfect love casts out fear… he that fears is not made perfect in love.” (1Jn 4:18) Fear was my negative motivation to seek the right people when I joined the brotherhood. It had served its purpose. Now fear needs to be transformed to love for any mature decision to be made.

To glorify the Lord is to affirm that within us lies the capacity for sound judgment. He gave us minds to discern and struggle with who we are, to honestly read the circumstances in our life, to process our limitations and fears, to be in touch with our dreams and hopes. We need to listen to how others see us and bring their observations to prayer and the reading of scripture. Discernment is in no way passive. It will bring out the best and the worst in us. I appreciate it that rather than coddling me, God willed that I be

… “left in the hands of my own counsel” so that [I] might of [my] own accord seek Him…and attain his full and blessed perfection by cleaving to Him.[2]

Such is the glory of the gift of freedom. Only in freedom can the real offering of self be made in love. God is wise, because once WE decide by His grace, we will be accountable to that decision, NOT Him. If God gave in to my cop out request and made the decision himself, one would expect that every time something goes wrong along the way, I would be after His hide blaming Him. However, since I will decide, I will have to stand up to that decision before Him and before the rest of my fellow humans and be wholly accountable.

… the desires of those who love Him

I love God. That love is imperfect and wounded, but I love God. My superiors in the brotherhood knew that I would live single if the Lord wanted me to, but it would be, as one of them said, “like wearing sack cloth to work everyday.”

There I learned that it was important to please God, but to please Him is to be the best that we can be. I had to shake off my notion of “Good Friday Christianity” that’s so imbedded in our culture—that to serve him necessarily meant to suffer for Him. God does not will nor rejoice in our suffering He desires our happiness–in this world. That’s a prerequisite to our happiness—in the world to come.

So what was the desire of my heart? All these ten years, there was one name, one face. Okay I liked other women, but I love one. I appreciated it that my spiritual director recognized that and helped me to process whether Vanè had the characteristics of my ideal woman. She passed with flying colors, so the next step was to see if she was available—for me. So on New Year’s eve of 1994, I bade goodbye to the brothers who were all in Baguio for a retreat, and came down to Manila—a New Year, a new life.

The Confrontations

It wasn’t till three months after that I got to talk with her (believe me those were the longest three months of my life—among other things, I had to write a song to keep my sanity). I could not help noticing that by now she had significantly matured in wisdom and confidence, and had become lovelier than ever. It was strange to get re-acquainted to the girl I’ve known well before, who’s the same girl, but there’s something new and quite elusive about her now. I was pleased to know that she was still very much single (sigh) and was no longer pursuing the single blessed life (double sigh). Then I asked her–in so many words that betrayed my cocksure past– if it might be possible for both of us to get back where we left off. Her response revealed to me that she was in fact a new woman.

Brace Yourself Kermit!

First she said she would appreciate getting courted—this time properly, as she wanted to be fair to the many men who were trying to court her at that time (if you knew her, you’ll know why `many’.) Second, she could no longer assure me that we’d end up together, and one of the main reasons was because she wasn’t sure she would be happy living on a teacher’s income and lifestyle. She had not yet processed if I was the right person for her, because true to form, when we parted ways, she really did let me go.

Now don’t get her wrong. She had nothing against teachers and was truly happy for me that I was called to teach. She’s also not wont to desire luxurious living, in fact, she’s one of the simplest women I know, especially that she came from a respected family in Negros, and her parents had lavished the best material provision they could provide their children. Yet she knew that my brand of simplicity might be a few notches lower than what for her was necessary.

Wow. I was amazed by the honesty that replaced what before was nothing but naïve, we’ll-conquer-the-world-together-with-LUV simplicity. Surely she should not be wearing the “proverbial sackcloth” for the rest of her life too.

I left the stalemate discussion deeply hurt. In fact at that moment, I wanted to leave teaching and storm Makati with my resumes. God knows how many times I had wanted to cop out in my life. Here it became crucial that I was the one who decided for marriage, and to pursue Vanè, so God could not be blamed for any untoward incident. Like a bitten puppy scampering to mama dog, I sought the wisdom of my director. He reminded me that the best I could give Vanè or anyone for that matter was the best of who I was and what God had made me to be—nothing more nor less.

Those words were good. I came back reinforced, and expressed to her that I deeply respected her concerns. Then I told her that I was sure of two things: one was that God made me to be a teacher, and that from where I stood, I knew she would make the best partner, support, and inspiration in my life and chosen vocation. I would do everything in my power to make her happy as my wife, the mother of our children, and as a daughter of God.

What I have recounted was a mere summary of what took place in five trying yet eventful months. Crucial ongoing dialogues allowed us to level our expectations and come to mature compromise. In order not to hurt me, she would always caution me not to hope too much to avoid disappointment. I told her that there were people in concentration camps who, even after years with no chance of freedom, they never lost hope. Hope became their only reason to go on living. I was in a far better place than they were, so I should hope and wait expectantly for her sweet yes.

Estranged, but Koaly to the Rescue

An interesting detail to this period of our relationship. When her father found out that our relationships was getting more serious, but even prior to her responding to me, he decided to help her, ummh, how should i put it, expand her vision of the world– in other words, forget me. For him, it would be a pity for his dear princess to end up with this, ummh, you fill in the blanks.  So he sent her on a two month vacation to the great land down under with her relatives. And boy did the relatives come to her rescue! Among other things they sent her on a solo flight to be alone for eight hours with a hunk of a pilot in the cockpit of an inter-island plane, and even treated her to a chip-n-dale show (of course she swore that she closed her eyes throughout the presentation). Strangely though, she wrote that in all her fanfare and adventure around that wonderful continent, whenever she would see Kangaroos and koala bears, she would remember me. Ok I would have preferred that she remember me while looking at that hunk, and I’m sure if she peeped at those chip-n-dales i would be the first to come to mind. But koala bears and me? Whatever, it did the job, so thanks koaly.

Lovelier the second time around

Now, the ten-year journey has come full circle. I cannot help but be amazed at the scriptural paradox that the only way to gain is to lose. Vane is the best blessing that God has granted me—and to think that He took us from each other in order to prepare us for each other—in His time. I have caused her much pain in our early years, yet God’s love has turned that pain to great rejoicing. That’s why it was most fitting that the engagement ring I gave her contained the note:

Will you marry your deepest pain
and your profoundest joy?

And if you should ask, I gave her that ring and proposed in the most romantic place: the taxicab rushing to the airport for her to catch a flight.

Not to be outdone in generosity, God granted us the greatest blessing: Nicov our firstborn, now a romping yet pensive one year old (update for 2008- now going twelve, with 3 others in tow and a fifth one coming soon). The ineffable joy of bringing him to the world and the privilege of raising him is a story all its own. Strangely enough, raising four kids is now an easier experience compared to our struggle with raising the first one.So we’re guaranteed that the coming of the fifth will further lighten the load.

Now married for 13 years we have become even more of my best friends and I swear to submit her name for sainthood just by graciously bearing these five children.

After serving for 15 years as a teacher, I am now a leadership consultant for organizations, a career we now both share and love as partners. Together our joy is to help other couples grow and enjoy their marriage and families for God.

And with the invaluable love and support of our families and brothers and sisters in community, we know that marriage and family life isn’t easy, but we are learning and discovering everyday, that untold blessings are often disguised in uneventful detours like dissecting frogs, and watching koala bears in faraway lands.

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[1] You know how to translate this in Filipino right?

[2] From the document “The Church in the modern World” no. 17, in Vatican II. The quote is taken from Sirach 15:14.

Kid Quotes

This will stand as one of my greatest regrets in life- not to have recorded the quotable gems from the mouth of babes. So I’ll grow this collection here from now on.

I have as of now four kids, (with a 5th one looming large):

Nicov  (pronounced Ni kof’ ) -     Son1 going 12yo

Joxain (pronounced Yok Sun’)- Son2 10yo

Jamsyn (can’t you read?)        – Daughter1 7yo

Marteuz (pronounced Mar tei’-yooz) Son 3 3yo

Of course they have second names and so on but that will complicate things so…

Quotable Gems from the Babes

Nicov to Joxain: “Before you put your tooth under the bed show it to mommy or you’ll never get your money. She is the agent of the tooth fairy.”

Joxain: Does Holy water expire?

Contrast in life, Disparity in death, Diverged in destiny.

Two Filipino men. Both.free.to.choose.

Ben. One grew up in Australia, enjoyed the comforts of first world life. Decided to live life his way. Married with kid, divorced, haphazardly raised kid, enjoyed the women, worked to enrich self and swing some more. At 60 diagnosed with cancer, given a month to live. Decide to go home to the Philippines for a last visit. When we met him at the hotel for his stopover before his return to the province, gone was the swagger and the swing. Life literally left him before he died. His image, of hauntingly inconsolable loss,. No words of hope could be issued from him. Only complaints. He drained the life and energy from all of us in attendance.

True enough, he died as the doctor predicted, in a month, not a day more. And a lost soul as his life choices determined. A few friends came to say goodbye.

Rog. The other one also started life swinging. But at 20 something took his faith and relationships with Christ seriously. Gave his life to the Lord as a single blessed person. Gave hope and inspiration to many in his youth. Stayed faithful to the call. At 30, diagnosed with cancer. After a long time of prayer he emerged and told us in his heart the Lord consoled him- it was to be a win win situation. If he lived longer, that means the Lord still intended to use him for the kingdom. If he died then he goes to where his heart has always longed, back in the arms of the father, free from pain and death.

Doctor gave him six months. In six months, doctor died. He spent another six years serving the Lord even more intensely. Despite those constantly draining bouts with chemo, he would spend every waking moment to comfort, console, or just be the funny friend all have known him to be. Those who visited him at the hospital were treated to the usual repertoire of jokes for which he was so sought after (in between throwing up bouts in the bathroom of course), with a matching punchline thrown from left of center field that always pierced the heart, and all came away with firmer hope and a much greater longing for God.

He died almost ten years later, having left a legacy of gratitude among the people he touched, Thousands attended his funeral.

So when life hits that inevitable curved ball, will you find yourself a Ben or a Rog? It will depend on your life’s theme song: Ben’s: Croon it Frankie– “I Did it My Way.” Rog’s: Let’s hit it sister—“I will follow him!’

How A Frog Bags A Princess (a.k.a. My Love Story) Part 1 of 2

(Note: this article is a shortened version of the cover story of Kerygma Magazine’s Valentine issue in 1997[?]. The original article included discussions on discernment which I will not bore you with.)

Under the Mercy

Obscure sparks

It all began in the first semester of 1985. It wasn’t boy meet girl. It was boy gazed at girl. In the busy cafeteria, her sparkling brown hair and fair cheeks glistened in the crowd. She was, as pretty freshmen coeds went, too busy entertaining the senior hunks to regard his puny figure. Yet from his corner, the world stood still save for the throbbing of a heart which spark-plugged a dream–a dream so intensely quiet that no human soul sensed it. Thank heavens this world is not all human. Someone wiser and kinder must have noted that sigh.

Holy Frogs of untold blessings!

After that first sight, what followed were more chance meetings and furtive glances (on my part at least. She will never to this day admit that she did notice me then—one day she will), till some months later, when we were sophomores, a common friend, my coursemate in BS Biology and her kababayan, introduced us to each other. Vane asked for his help to catch a frog and dissect it for her elective class in biology 11. But since he had another appointment, he passed me on to her. By that time, my coursemates and I had become resident experts in amphibian torture, er… dissection, well recognized on campus as the go to guys for these highly technical procedures. By then I had cut up 12 live ones.

Looking back, I wonder why I ever took BS Biology. I signed up for BS Psychology but for some strange reason was accepted in biology. I had no interest in anything medical, fainted twice when I tried to give blood, passed out when circumcised. But I fancied being in an honors course– for a while of course till they kicked out duds like me. So the only logic of that detour was for me to know how to cut up frogs in order to bag me a princess in the process. She must really be special, because that was quite an expensive detour. This proves that some real life croakers do get lucky.

I remember our first conversation in the summer of `86. Among other things, we talked about our wariness of the way people entered or fell into intimate relationships. We concluded with a general decision not to enter into any form of relationship at that time. With that assurance, the friendship took off. We were so sure the friendship was right, and excited at love’s blossoming. So came two years of mainly unastute, arrogantly cocksure, emotion-to-the-hilt, hand-in-hand love adventure capped by sunset rendezvous. It was friendship-cum-amor (eeww what was that!!!)

You And Me Against the World

Fortunately, (though it did not seem so at that time) our more mature friends noticed the untimeliness of our relationship. Our response to their caution was true to puppy love format. We resisted their caution, and swore that the classic love song was written for us:

“We kissed in the shadows,
we hide from the moon.
Our meetings are few,
and over too soon.”

To be sure, the meetings were not few nor over too soon. But since lovers’ benchmark of time was nothing less than eternity (count the love songs that contain the words `forever, always, endless, for all time,’ etc…), no time spent together was long enough.

If not for His mercy…

Remember, however, that no one is as relentlessly persistent a Lover as God. It became clearer through the years that God had quietly been whispering to me that he wanted Vanè for Himself. So in the spirit of my great ancestor Odysseus, I stood ready to defy any god that diverted the course of my love’s destiny. Armed to the teeth with towering passion, and locked in each other’s tight embrace, we swore our eternal union.

Yet gods be gods, and truth alone can set us free–so we eventually submitted to truth’s initial misery. How ironic that as our relationship was growing stronger, so grew our sense that something deep inside was amiss. Gradually, the outgoing, friendly, service-oriented couple that we used to be was becoming more withdrawn. The enthusiasm we drew from and offered to our friends, school, community, service, and family, we now fenced into our selfish little world.

I realized that for a love relationship to be authentic, it should give life, expand our horizons, and open us confidently to greater circles of friendships, and service to God and our fellows. But why was ours caving in?

Timing Is The Whole Enchilada

The initial answer came to me one morning as I was alone in prayer. In the stillness a story came to me which helped me appreciate our situation. So it goes:

A little boy would regularly stop by the store window after school to behold his prized toy- a mechanical tin soldier found only in that shop because the shop owner himself made it. There were other toys that would fancy his gaze, but none else captured his heart. The amount he’d been setting aside from his baon told him that by Christmas he could take the prized toy home. However, as days passed, the longing grew, and Christmas seemed too far away. So one desperate night, he shattered the store window by throwing a rock at it. The sleeping store guard stirred, leaving him little time to reach in and grab the prized gadget. With the sound of quickened boots getting louder, he darted into the shadows, clutching the stolen prize. Suddenly, he tripped and crashed into the sidewalk. Something cracked in his hand. His beautiful prize was broken. As he limped home, a quick check showed that it still worked. A month passed. Early one morning, a gentle caress awakened him. His mom was the first to greet him—it was his birthday. Beside her lay a wrapped gift. It was a dictionary. Then sadly she explained, “I’m sorry son. This is the next best gift I can find for you. A month ago, the gift I reserved for you was reportedly stolen from the town store.”

That hurt real bad. I was the impulsive little rascal. I knew deep within that Vanè was right for me. That was not the problem. The problem lay in the timing. Somehow, I had to accept the painful truth that after all that cocksure confidence, I was too young to handle a relationship that required mature commitment. Destiny favors a prepared soul. With this growing realization, and after long struggles (and I mean long and pa-urong-sulong), we decided to part ways; thus began what I considered my ten year odyssey in search of home (well it seemed like ten years).

The Detour to Last a Lifetime

A few months after our separation (by this time I had started my career as a teacher, and she in a bank), for some strange reason, when my time came to formally discern my state of life, I was drawn to investigating the single blessed life. I joined the Servants of the Word, an international lay brotherhood whose members live single for the Lord. This stage lasted more than two years.

Looking back, one may wonder, “If at the end I was still called to married life, then why more than two years of detour? Wasn’t it just a waste of time?” I respond with a resounding no. Ironically, those two years prepared me for marriage more than any other time in my life. Here I appreciated one principle that allowed me to see marriage and relationships in their right place.

Iggy’s Principle and Foundation

In the brotherhood, I had the privilege of witnessing up close men who lived by what St. Ignatius considers the Principle and foundation of human existence:

[human love]…no matter how noble, is not the ultimate end and must never be pursued as such. God alone, His glory and my salvation for his glory are the only legitimate end or goal of my life, and everything else in life is subordinated to that end…All things have to be used or set aside insofar as they help or hinder me in respect to my goal.

Apart from this needed re-centering of self to God, I reaped countless other blessings in the brotherhood. First, it protected me from my own desires to prematurely pursue an intimate relationship again before I could settle my own personal growth. It was there too that I confronted my fears, my limitations, and my wrong notions of relationships. There I re-surrendered my life and future to God.

Who’s Holding Panggà Now?

One of my fears during our separation was who would take care of Vanè now that we were apart. Having been used to taking care of each other, the fear now seemed reasonable. But oh how I underestimated God’s love. For didn’t He say that He wanted her for himself? And true to his good form, when I let her go, He took care of her, lavished her with all the love that my poor human love fell as crumbs in comparison. In fact, seeing her grow in confidence from a distance made me realize that for the most part my being in her life stunted her growth more than fostered it. What a crying shame for me to even think that she’d grow best in my arms!

Ok good for her. But what about me? (Coming Soon in part 2).

Limbering

I first came across this word in Aikido practice. After two hours of exercises, rolling, falling, locks, and blending with the partner, the Sensei (that is, a black belt teacher) announces, “Okay, limbering!”

And the sound of that word sends untold relief to my exhausted muscles, overstretched joints, and dizzied head. This announcement signals the last exercise before we kowtow our farewells to all the evening’s strife.

Limbering is a generic word for stretch. The dictionary would say-

· to do … exercises so as to stretch the muscles; “The coach limbered the players before the game”

· to cause to become flexible; “The violist limbered her wrists before the concert”

the goal being to make a person … “capable of moving or bending freely.”

In this last exercise, the partners take turns to “limber” each other. It begins with both facing each other. Partner B (called UKE- or the one who receives the technique) grasps the two wrists of partner A (called NAGE- the one who executes the technique). Then with Uke’s hold maintained, both turn away from each other and Nage bows his upper body down to waist level to allow uke to mount his entire backside on Nage’s back. This provides uke with a well-extended body stretch, to help uke relax and limber. To provide further stretch, nage pulls uke’s left arm and right leg simultaneously away from the body. Oooh stretch!

I didn’t enjoy this exercise in the first few months because of the painful discomfort of being pulled in all directions, and worse, while dangling on someone’s back. At first I thought it was just a necessary evil that I had to suffer through for the sake of stretching.

But what bothered me was that the other uke’s registered blissful smiles while being limbered by their nages.

I even thought maybe it’s an age issue, because most of the other aikikais were much younger than me.

I explained my discomfort to my sensei, expecting from him a profoundly professional explanation, and maybe some expertly intricate procedure on how to rectify the problem.

But his explanation fell way short: “You’re not relaxed that’s why.” I braced for a more profound exposition of the problem and the solution.

“Just completely relax. That will do it.”

True enough, the next time I limbered I noticed that I would clam up, bracing for the worst. This negative anticipation brought pains to my upper back, neck, and awkward stiffness to my dangling legs.

So I decided to relax. Yes, I learned that to relax was a deliberate choice. And when I did, slowly the magic happened. There was actually a smirk on my face, then a sigh. And I stretched blissfully!

This word relax is the key to all my struggles in aikido. I had to straddle this paradox and unlearn the conditioned belief that martial arts conjures reinforced bone cells, high velocity kicks, explosive punches from rock hard fists colliding with toughened muscles to parry the blows.

And thanks to Hollywood, none of it suggested relax except the pre fight meditations. Even then, the meditations came with intense music foreboding a storm.

The word relax must have been uttered to me by my partners a gazillion times at practice. Aldem, relax. So I have established that when I don’t execute the technique, that means I am not relaxed. When I don’t roll well or fall painfully, I don’t relax my lead arm that takes the fall. When I don’t blend well with the nage, that means I don’t relax.

Who would have thought that success in aikido entails a lot of controlled and deliberate relaxation and flexibility? How counterintuitive to say the least?

Guess what? This world relax also happens to be the key to my struggles in life. Who would have thought that true success in life, business, leadership, and relationships, involves a lot of relaxation, trust, meditation, peaceful confidence in self and others, surrender to God’s will. But this world appreciates teeth gritting, hyperventilated crams at crunch time.

It hails the action oriented, the grizzly, the hyperactive. Don’t get me wrong. The problem is not in the action. God knows how this world needs good action.

But where does effective action come from? I’ve always been intrigued by this quote:

And a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of a gentle blowing. (1 Kings 19;11-12)

Not in a tornado, not in an earthquake, not in a blazing fire.

But in the gentle breeze.

“This is a law of Nature. When we strive to act, the forces of Nature do their will with us; when we grow still, we become their master. But there are two kinds of stillness — the helpless stillness of inertia, which heralds dissolution, and the stillness of assured sovereignty which commands the harmony of life… The more complete the calm, the mightier the… power… the greater the force in action.” (The Strength of Stillness by Sri Aurobindo)

Commitment in Motion

Many lovers hope that when love hits the rocks, things will somehow go back to where they’ve been. As the song goes:“If there’s no way to convince you to stay and be the way we used to be.”

Sadly in that hope they misunderstand human love. Because by design humans are not meant to fixate in time, and certainly not when it comes to relationships. No matter how beautiful a relationship stage is,  people have to move on.

So when one hurts or offends the beloved, somehow the effort goes in trying to erase the mistake and force things to go back to the time before the mistake. But no snopake exists in love. There’s a way out though- it’s called level two, like in the video games.

No one crosses the same river twice. Change is a fact of life. The only way you can benefit from change is to deliberately direct it into progress.

But do not expect to stand still. For standing still is the sure way to fall.

Why? Because there is only one point on which to truly stand, and an infinite number of points in which to fall. So prepare to fall, by walking, which scientists describe as a controlled falling. Which makes running- controlled falling faster.

If you notice, the beauty of a kiss is motion, not fixation in a certain lip lock (which if you can imagine it looks morbid after a while). Constantly making sure that your mutual encounter pleases the beloved so, and this pleasure is guaranteed only in constant motion.

When someone promises “I will be here,” nothing about it is static.

That guarantee is made in the midst of the dynamic movement of the universe which from my end I will have to nagivate, orchestrate, negotiate with, even struggle with,

In the midst of cel phone calls, client demands, civic duties, disease, conflicting commitments, other enticements, in order to make sure that I will be beside you.

That will require from me courage, perspective, character and resolve, faith and humility, and creativity. Each of which is as static as 20,000 volts of electricity.

But try standing still in the midst of a rushing current, that’s where true dynamism comes from.

Which brings us to God. The Great I Am. The same yesterday, today, and forever. Does that description sound static to you? Ok I admit, this is probably where they thought God is static, which to kids reads boring.

But this God creates a universe that never stands still, and this universe is his IMAGO. Just don’t mistake activity with dynamism. Activity is merely burning rubber. Dynamism is growth. Activity is passing the time. Dynamism is becoming.

And I tell you, you can stand still in the midst of life’s confusing currents, if like a boat, you are securely anchored still. In HIM.

Reflections on My Life as a Leader [Part 1 of 4]

Excavated Lessons from Childhood

At 38 years of age, while learning about the intricacies of leadership through extensive reading, film watching, and numerous interactions with over a thousand leaders in the course of my work as teacher (17 years) and leadership consultant (10+ years) to various organizations, I began to consider my own journey as a leader.

What led me to this intense interest and passion to learn leadership?

Among other things I mention three leads:
Dr. John Maxwell says that “everything rises and falls on leadership.” Now if that’s true then everything means that my family, work & business, community, my faith, and my own journey as a person, will rise and fall depending on how effective or ineffective I am as a leader.

And over 200 years ago, William Wordsworth wrote: The Child is the father of the Man. That means my childhood experiences served as father to my adult life, i.e., to teach, model, discipline, and mold what I am now becoming. So I decided to retroactively inquire from my childhood what it tried to teach me about life and leadership.

Then there is that quote I read or heard somewhere that I could not retrace, the idea being- “Everybody is leading all of the time,” with leading synonymous to influencing. Every move we make impacts another person directly or indirectly, and every action is a choice. So by this fact I dare call myself a leader, and look at everyone as such.

Mining for Meaning
Initial reminiscences showed nothing but disconnected events, many of them seemingly trivial and remote. But when I probed deeper still I began to see connections, patterns, and lessons that have long been pushed aside by life’s incessant preoccupation with daily urgencies.

Unbelievably, as soon as I began to re-view some of these events with the emerging eyes of leadership wisdom, I gradually uncovered untold gems of revelation, so even if many of them took place more than 25 years ago, they still speak to me and inform my life and direction today.

And those revelations are more than worth their weight in precious gold.

Natural Born Leader

Early on in life I knew I had some natural leadership tendencies because I was good at relating with, pleasing and entertaining others. I did not take to provoking others nor agitating them. Since I was a wit, I had good lines delivered at the right moment, so others noticed me and were drawn to me, and I would easily be the life of the party. Of course at times the wit would hit a wrong chord, but they were more exceptions than the rule, so my leadership prevailed.

An Easy Start to Early Glory

So much so that when my mom decided that I would run for president of the grade school student body, I had no anxiety about losing. Aided by my mother’s aggressiveness and artistic ability to make what at that time would be considered fancy campaign materials (she “hired” a budding neighbor artist to hand print each colorful campaign bookmark and used wavy scissors to mark the outline), I was clearly on my way to victory. My presidential opponent, (a classmate and good friend Peter) had his pamphlets letter pressed, so there clearly was competition. I must have delivered a good speech because I spoke well, though no doubt my mom must have used her English co-teacher as my ghost writer.

And if you think I’ll drop the bomb by saying that after all these efforts I lost anyway, then I’m sorry to disappoint you. I won by a landslide, a 5:1 victory. So from nothing, I was “El Presidente” in a whiff and a half.

On that same year I also became the battalion commander of the school boy scout. So at 11 years of age, I held all the power that could be given to a student in what was then considered the best school of our city. I wish I could say all this was because I was great, but now this was nothing but hype and momentum kicking in. A charming, witty kid whom nobody could fault yet, catches the roaring imagination of a clueless crowd that loves a winner, or somebody who looks like one.

I certainly was not tall compared to half my classmates, nor was I well-built. I remember having a slight frame, which got quite disproportioned because by grade 5 I developed a tummy while the rest of my body stayed slight. Thus my friends christened me “Butete,” the visayan word for tadpole.

In terms of achievement, I remember setting up the crack troop, a group of elite and disciplined boy scouts who would train more and harder than the rest to represent the school in interschool parades. With our fancy uniform we would man the traffic outside of campus, a privilege many coveted since the girls of our sister school passed by the road we trafficked, and we could by choice stop their father’s car so his daughter could get a more prolonged view of us “in action.”

But I was scared of some the students’ expectations, One time, while patrolling the school perimeter, I was approached by some students complaining about some outsiders who were harassing them. They expected me to bust those bullies. At first I charged toward the outsiders with fire in my eyes clearly ignited by my constituents’ expectations, but drawing closer, and feeling alone (since the students were not following close by), I realized that those bullies were much bigger than I was, and certainly more street smart. Now the only bullying I had done till then was toward my baby sister, and I was not even good at it with her, so this was clearly out of my league. Thankfully a teacher came to the scene and warder them off in time to save my hide and reputation.

Unfortunately I do not remember having achieved anything as student body president.

Academically I graduated co-valedictorian with 3 other classmates. That was a strange setup, but somehow the principal decided it would be that way. Suffice it to say that four of us delivered our valedictory addresses.

Looking back at that event, I realize that was my first taste of shared leadership or shared victory, which I of course disliked then, as “looking out for number one” was supposed to be the only theme of my growing years, as had always been demanded by institutions, societies, and stage mothers.

“There are none so blind as those who will not see…” (John Heywood 1546)

High School- Clouds Loom Overhead
High School presented me with an emerging crisis of leadership. In the first two years, I still served as battalion commander of the Boy Scout and president of our year level science club, but some of my classmates were also getting other top positions in the now greater assortment of high school clubs.

This presented an even greater unease for the once king of the hill, and I wondered how much longer I could hold the fort of dominance. Little did I know that in the next landslide I’ll experience, I would go down with the rubble. (Part 2- the crack begins… coming next week)

Teaching 1+1 to a Math Professor

I was giving a workshop to the faculty of one of the top universities in the country. Expounding on the concept of synergy I flashed a slide with the equation: 1+1=3 to infinity. One participant raised his hand. “I have a problem w/ your equation sir, you see I am a math professor, and it is fundamental in math that 1+1=2. Mess with that and the whole mathematical foundation falls through.”
For a while I was stumped. How do you respond to an erstwhile mathematics professor that synergy was not violating the basic truths of his domain?
I let the question percolate, desperately sifting through possible answers in my mind, almost embarrassed that I was causing a gradual tension to build among the 50+ professors in attendance.
Part of me was relishing the tension, anticipating the hushed questions from the distinguished body assembled: “I wonder how he will duck this one?”
Deciding that I had setup enough drama, I took a deep breath to respond. But the gratification was not to be mine that morning. A hand was raised in the back, with enough authority which I could not ignore. He stood up and replied, sir, with all due respect to my colleague from the mathematical discipline, I would like to express that in fact 1+1 can and does result in infinite sums, and even more strangely, we observe that 1×1 does yield the same infinite product. You see, I am a biology professor and we deal with mitosis and meiosis all the time.”
And at that moment, the crowd reacted with delight, and I quietly sighed with relief, proud of myself for having done the smart thing, and that was to shut up, and allowed the experts to sort each other out. Looking back I do not remember what I would have said if I did respond, but no doubt it would have been a mere babble compared to the credible punch of the professor of life.

The Power of Second Chances

On my last year in college, at a time when I felt too old to learn something new physically after having done some running and body building, my batch mate took us to the high school field. He had been a medalist in judo which he started only in college, a pretty significant achievement for someone who did not start out in the discipline in his younger age.
In the field he showed us some of the basics of the martial art, which he said began with rolling. Pretty cool stuff, considering that if you want to effectively drop your opponent to the ground you better be comfortable with dropping down yourself. I was quite hesitant to learn it, giving premium to my soft head. True enough, my fears were soon warranted when my head hit the ground hard after the first attempt.
I didn’t realize till much later that the fact that my friend was good in judo did not mean he was good at teaching it, though by now that painful experience had left a lasting mark on me- I declared that I was never going to touch that rolling stuff anymore, with my head far too precious to risk.
That was almost 20 years ago.
Fast forward 2007, now with four kids and 60+ pounds later, my wife and I enrolled our kids in aikido, of which I had the faintest idea. We chaperoned them through the first month and I saw how similar it was to judo, in fact I learned later that judo was one of the sources of aikido. So the rolling and the falling were marked qualities of the exercises- and there were lots of it.
Flash back to 18 years when I promised to keep away from the sport. Rest assured my position remained intact. What was fascinating was that for my kids, the rolling and falling came pretty natural, like spiders thrown to a web.
Then I heard the most outrageous suggestion- my wife snuggled up to me in her characteristic charmingly dominant fashion and said, “Why don’t we try it?” At the mere suggestion my heart pounded to the gruesome prospect of mangled old bodies, contorted joints, and busted skulls.
But of course, not wanting to sound like a wimp, I gulped, “Sure!” And we did, and the beginnings were terrible. All of a sudden the world was turned upside down. Here in the dojo the three kids in our family were the experts, frolicking all over the mats, while the adult were, well, cautious, and hopelessly inflexible to say the least. For the first time I’d see from the corner of my eye, my 9 year old son look painfully at how I tried, and desperately failed to back roll because some stupid joint got in the way, and he’d later come up to me and say, “It’s ok, you’ll get it pops!” and I’d dutifully reply, “Thank you son!’
To add insult to you know what (and there are by now lots of it by now if you know what I mean), my wife, ever the initiator, and mainly that, decided to jump ship! Her back’s had enough she declared, so it was time to pursue her first love, dancing (which she swears is to this day is still evading her. But that’s another story…), leaving me with my kids to continue practice. Actually I felt beaten to the punch, since she declared it first, now I feel I have to carry the burden of being a model to my kids, and what a painfully mangled model I foresaw in the months to come.
But persistence always has its rewards, if it does not kill you first. Now I can roll, many times… not the way i would want to yet, but I’m working on it. And over a year after that painful beginning, I’m actually enjoying the art! Then last May my 11 year old Nicov and I passed our exam for the yellow belt!
I will reserve another entry for that experience, but just to close with the mystery that almost 20 years later, at a time past the prime of youth, I engage in a martial art that should have had its day eons ago, and yet here I am. I feel the aching joints are right where they should be, and this old body better accept hundreds of slams on the mat, coz I’m gonna be practicing aikido for a long long time. Second chances are ours for the taking. And they should have told me that it’s sweet when we do.