WHERE DID the time go?
Over dinner last month, Dr. Randy Francisco asked what everybody—after the song— must be asking. You have hardly stored away the clutter of your life last year, when the year is nearly done again, and you can hardly catch up, not only with the stuff you must do, but also with what you must give and take. You feel you can hardly do enough—for your work, for the people you care for, for society.
And technology makes time even more perishable and unmanageable. I have yet to talk to anyone who can claim she or he has been able to manage time satisfactorily. Your Blackberry is like the ball and chain on your foot—you can’t go anywhere without it, not even at bedtime.
It’s the Christmas storm. And that means not only Tropical Storm “Sendong”—nature fighting back for man’s greed and wanton damage to the environment (since we’re in the momentum of prosecuting plunderers and butchers, why not add illegal loggers to the list, finally)—but also being in the dizzying rush of traffic, work deadlines, gift-giving, even in the rush of going into an away-from-the-rush vacation before the holidays.
Through the years, Christmas time is beginning to feel more and more like a storm—all the must-dos falling on your head, you have to rush for shelter.
Stress alarm—that’s what you’ve been hearing from me and from within yourself. Even doing our staff’s traditional Christmas wish list is a stress point.
Here’s my wish list:
Gift of contentment and gratitude. I realize the only way to de-stress is to recognize and be thankful for your blessings, seeing your cup as half full, instead of half empty. Recognizing what and whom you have, not what and whom you don’t have; what you can do, not what you can’t; what you can give, not only what you can take—that in itself is a God-given grace.
Poverty
People with lots of money are the most discontented lot—I’ve seen that. The more you have, the more you want. People with lots of money but with no sense of enlightenment and discernment—that’s poverty.
It’s no surprise that the first outpouring of help for the “Sendong” victims is from the poor and the middle-class.
Would you believe the image that’s stuck on my mind is that of a niche in the memorial park, for the urn? It’s so small you can’t even fit into it your large office folders. You finally see what they say—you can’t take it with you. Not your condo, not your Birkins, nothing. The image of a little niche at the columbarium—that should be a gift we forward to greedy politicians and businessmen.
Be able to do what’s doable. Regulate the buses on Edsa… Regulate the motorcycles/bikes you feel like swatting away every time they flit into your space from nowhere… Stop the road tyranny of the jeepneys which, come to think of it, compose the most graphic example of our “wangwang culture”—they move about with total disregard of rules, with a sense of impunity and entitlement, with total disregard for the community.
Decades ago we used to romanticize the jeepney as the symbol of what was unique and indigenous to the Pinoy; today, it’s a symbol of what’s uniquely wayward about the Pinoy (and how many jobless men there are)… Streetchildren. They’re your first glimpse of Metro Manila, if you’re a tourist or visitor. Is the DSWD even laying down the institutional framework to get these vagrants off the streets?… Filipino men—men in general—to relearn chivalry, at least good manners. Aren’t you sick and tired of guys trying to beat you into the elevator or out of it? Or not even knowing how to open the door for you?… Signing cards. Nothing turns me off more than a greeting card, from so-called friends or colleagues or social networks, with no signature, only a printed name. Breeding… Writing thank-you notes. Again, breeding…
Now what’s not doable: acquiring class and breeding.
Time. Even only a bit more. Me time. You wish people would be more considerate and not presume that your eyes are peeled before your e-mail 24/7.
The will and energy to declutter my space. Wish.
To remain surrounded by people who make me laugh at myself.
Noble journey
For P-Noy to continue on his safe and noble journey. Yes, I believe so. When we find it odd that a leader is refusing to use wangwang, or to make his imaging a priority, or to rush fiscal spending, and refusing to ignore the rules of succession in government institutions, including the military, or refusing to let the institutions—from the presidency to the judiciary—get away with crime, then we really must have forgotten what it’s like to be decent. It’s been a long time since we saw a leader not breaking or abusing the law or messing up institutions.
Natural and manmade disasters stand in his path, but then we have nothing to lose willing him on. At the very least, in the end, we stand to regain our moral compass.
“Right now, achieved goals and the support of family and true friends are what gives me personal happiness,” says P-Noy, who celebrates his second Christmas as President—and without a love life.
The Christmas wish list of a few friends:
Marissa Fernan: To see a smile on the face of every child I meet. I also wish for more time and the energy to pursue new passions.
Mario Katigbak: My wish is for a watch that has 48 hours in a day so I can devote eight hours to work, eight hours to myself, eight hours to family, eight hours to true friends, eight hours to reflection and eight hours to sleep. And if lucky, eight hours of play.
Annie Ringor: I wish for my family and good friends a world filled with warmth, peace, happiness, success and miracles. And may next year be a season of romance for all my single friends—and me.
Elvira Luym: Beyond wishing for relief for the people affected by “Sendong,” I’d like to wish for a beautiful wedding for my daughter next year and a life of love and joy for her and her husband.
