TwoZeroOneOne

You know how sometimes they say that you'll only realize how worth it something is after you go through it and look at the experience through hindsight? Or when they say that really, if you want to learn new things, you'd have to do stuff you've never thought of doing before?

That's exactly what this year was to me.

If 2010 was the year of firsts, I guess - in more ways than one - this year was a year of guts. It was this year that I tried out for something I promised myself I will only do if the hell freezes over, when I said to myself that I wouldn't do anything reckless anymore (and then doing it at the soonest most convenient time), when I told myself it will only be about acads, and nothing else (yeah, right). Ironically, though, 2011 showed me the complete opposite of what I wanted, or thought I wanted, for myself.

More than anything, this year taught me that the limits of my abilities are figments of my imagination, that if I wanted something, the only thing pulling me back was my fear... of being rejected, of disappointing people, of failing... and part of accomplishing the goal - of clinching that victory - is acknowledging my weaknesses, and kicking them in the face as I run towards my prize.

Also, this year taught me the value of trying new things... of jumping without reassurance that I'll fall in a safe heap... of not being afraid to meet people... of being open to the idea of going beyond my comfort zone, and enter my courage zone... of taking risks, taking chances, getting hurt, and making changes. This year looked me in the eye and told me that it's never about where you're going, it's who are staying with you during the whole bumpy ride, filled with pit-stops, detours, and wrong turns. It told me that happiness wasn't something out of my reach, that it was right in front of me, and all I had to was open my eyes and will it.

This year taught me that yeah, you can go through life alone, but it's going to be a crappy ride if you go solo, because no one will cushion you when you go through a bump on the road. It taught me that family isn't just biological, and whatever family I have, I'm sure it'll stick with me no matter what.

This year taught me my life won't ever be perfect, and oftentimes, things will happen that will try to shatter my beliefs... and though I can't do much about that, I can always believe that everything's going to be worthwhile in the end, that Someone out there has made plans for me, and for me alone.

I learned this 2011 that despite everything - calamities, deaths, diseases - this world is full of beautiful and compassionate people. I learned that just because we don't see heroes everyday, doesn't mean they're not around. I learned that especially not after helping the victims of Sendong, but after we packed our leftover Noche Buena and gave it to the homeless in Katipunan, who slept early because they didn't have recently ingested food they had yet to digest.

This year, I learned that ultimately, if I wanted something accomplished, I would have to do stand up and get the job done. Sure, having people around me helps, but I can't just rely on people telling me I can do it, I actually have to show them I can.

This year taught me the value of writing things down, of taking pictures, of creating things that remind me how thoroughly blessed I have been this year.

2011 taught me to open up, to listen to others, and to realize that I need people to complement me, because - and I cannot stress this often enough - I can't go through everything alone and do it well. 2011 showed me the BookBench, the YFC Web people, the AROTC, the 2nd block I have fallen in love with, the LFC and 9gag. ;)

Granted, there were times when I wanted to just lock myself up and quit, or show apathy at everything. There were times when I doubted if all I was doing was worth it, if I can find justification in the fact that I was giving up time for friends for other things which I felt - that time - wasn't as important. Hell, it was this year that I made the most number of sad and angsty blog entries... but you know what?

I honestly wouldn't have this year any other way.

And if asked if I'd go through this year again to fix all my stupidity and to do better, I'd say it was a tempting offer, but I'd turn it down. Why?

Because now that everything's said and done, my 2011 was actually perfect. In its own twisted way. Exactly how perfection is defined for me.

And yup, I sure am ready for 2012. Bring it freaking on. Happy new year, everyone! :)

A waking-up homily by an inspiring Jesuit

Most probably, a black hole lives at the center of our Milky Way galaxy.  It is probably a dead and very dense star pulling other stars and planets into itself like a sinkhole.  Without wonder, we say gravity is what holds us together.  We are no longer perplexed that two things (just by having mass, whatever that means) should attract (and not repel) each other.  What is it about matter anyway that pulls or warps the fabric of space-time?

We say E=mc2;  we see it working in the raging fires of our sun and in our nuclear furnaces, and we are no longer puzzled that energy should be “fungible” (i.e. interchangeable) with mass.

We hang electric lights on our trees and we take for granted the little ripples of energy that wave forth from these little stars to reach the tiny non-digital cameras in our eyes.

We see starlight and we are no longer startled.

We agonize over the kind of gifts to give one another, and open our gifts in our homes and we say this is how it has always been and how it should be every December.

We fight our wars relentlessly and we say this is realpolitik or deterrence or practical policy.  We break into splinters and make divisive alliances, and the usual script is to blame the serpents on the other faction or fraternity.

We wring our hands over the greed and corruption that steal the future of our people and we say this is the way the world works.  We see evil thrive and good people become bad, and we no longer wonder why we are powerless to right a wrong, to tell the truth, to dispense justice in the flawed systems we have made for ourselves.

We cheat and we say everyone cheats.  We fight fire with fire to avoid being burned.  When we are hurt, we exchange tooth for tooth, eye for an eye, and we are pacified somehow by this false parity and transient vindication.  Of course, the pain is sharp, sharp enough to blur our sight so that we no longer see that eyes (or teeth) are not fungible.

We gaze at our spouse, our parents, and children.  If our most intimate of relationships have become chores to us, it is because we no longer bother to even remember and rekindle the love that once was clear as morning.

When we wound one another, we drop our sorries and confess and do our penances.  Do we still wonder why scars do stay, why the injury of sin, its trauma and its swelling do not just go away?  We have grown to expect lesions to close at our speed and at our bidding, and not at the pace of those we have wounded.

We text our words and telegraph (or tweet) our emotions;  we codify them into numbers (14344), and skype our presence.  We tag each other and label “like” on our posts, without pondering any more about the longings beneath these kinds of digital connection.

We see our world spinning faster than ever even as it becomes flatter.  And so we multi-task with the multi-info at our fingertips.  We take all these in stride and yet we seem disabled from pausing to wonder why we are tired or stressed or distracted.

The child raises the string of sampaguita to our car windows and the stab of guilt lasts only until the light turns green and we settle back to our seats and curse the traffic.

We see a virgin giving birth to a child and we say, so what.  Been there, done that.  It is only a matter of time before we uncover the genetic secrets and wield the biotech tools to make that happen.

In countless Angelus prayers, we utter the same words of Mary’s oblation.  Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me.  To say yes to the summons of an angel, to risk the unknown, to go on living despite what we do not see:  is it no longer astonishing, this faith that can endure and do wonders?

We see the child in a manger, immortalize this image in our belens.  Does it still grab us, this mystery of mysteries of our redemption?  From what again are we being redeemed?

Behold this wonder:

a living, moving,

startling likeness of who we are,

who God is;

what God awakens

when God sleeps

on the crossing

wood of our manger.   

We have lost the wonder of it all, lost the gratitude, lost the likeness of who we are, who we are meant to love, how life again could matter.

No wonder, God came to us as a child in a manger.

- Fr. Jett Villarin, SJ