Sometimes, life places us in the midst of stillness and uncertainty. Moments when the pulse of existence feels muted, and a quiet numbness lingers, as if the world has dimmed its colors and slowed its rhythm.
Today, such a stillness embraced me. I recently moved to a new place, and as the morning unfolded, something urged me to climb to the rooftop. I let my senses breathe, my eyes tracing the unfamiliar contours of the space, while the sweet, delicate chirp of birds on nearby wires stitched a gentle melody into the air.
Time seemed to pause. The world felt like a giant puzzle, with scattered pieces of faces, places, sounds, and moments slowly shifting, seeking alignment. And then, I felt it — a presence, subtle yet undeniable. God was speaking, not in words, but in the hush of that moment. A chill ran through me, mingled with comfort, as if I were being gently reminded: He is always near, guiding, whispering, and nudging.
God does not leave us in perpetual guessing. He sends signs, moments of pause and reflection, urging us to quiet our minds, slow our pace, and tend to the garden of our souls. Yet not all signs are pleasant; some arrive wrapped in pain, discomfort, or loss. It is His way of tapping our shoulder, of capturing our attention when our hearts and minds are too busy to notice.
Is God asking you to wait?
Signs are manifold, often disguised as life’s disruptions:
The hollow ache of feeling lost or without purpose.
The quiet departure of negative or hurtful people.
An unexpected opportunity to retreat, travel, or seek solitude.
The breaking of relationships, tender yet necessary.
Physical or mental exhaustion that demands rest.
Some of life’s events leave invisible scars, marks we try to conceal from the world. We believe time has buried them, yet God, in His wisdom, can unearth these moments, placing them before us to teach, guide, and awaken.
These moments, these signs, are invitations — calls to reflection, discernment, and growth. They are reminders that God protects us in ways we may not yet comprehend. Patience, attentiveness, and faith become our companions as we learn to read His subtle language.
To wait is not to stagnate; it is to align, to prepare, and to grow. The pause is sacred. The stillness, a message. And in listening, truly listening, we begin to understand the rhythm of His timing.
Thursday, June 18, 2020
The Whisper of Waiting
Sunday, May 31, 2020
The World Paused
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It’s me again, writing while the rain pours heavily outside, each drop tapping a gentle rhythm on my window. I’ve been away from this little space for far too long, and I realize now just how much I’ve missed the act of writing. It’s hard to put into words the feeling stirring within me — a quiet sense of being resurrected, of awakening into a new state of possibility. I feel blessed, alive, and eager for the many prompts and projects my mind longs to explore, even if, for now, I am the sole reader of my musings.
Lately, my mind has been a bustling workshop of ideas, overflowing with concepts about business, money management, and personal growth. Though I am not wealthy, I find myself inexplicably drawn to money-related content, tutorials, and discussions online. Perhaps it is the pull of maturity, or the slow realization that financial literacy is an adventure in itself — a journey I am only beginning to chart.
The quarantine has been a strange yet gentle gift. With time stretched and obligations paused, I have had the space to rest, reflect, and explore things I never attempted before. It has been a period of quiet observation, a canvas for experimentation, and a mirror into my own routines and desires.
I discovered the joy of preparing my own meals — a task I had rarely attempted before, but now have come to relish. Cooking is no longer mere sustenance; it is an act of creation, requiring planning, patience, and attention to detail. From selecting ingredients to peeling, slicing, and adjusting spices to taste, to carefully plating the finished dish, the process has taught me the satisfaction of effort and anticipation. Each meal is a small triumph, a tangible reflection of care, creativity, and intention. I find myself already looking forward to the next day’s menu, excited to experiment and refine, to transform ordinary ingredients into something meaningful and nourishing.
In these simple acts, I sense a deeper lesson: that reflection, effort, and curiosity are themselves forms of growth. That even in isolation, one can cultivate skill, mindfulness, and joy. That the ordinary, when approached with intention, becomes extraordinary. And perhaps this is the quiet gift of these quarantine days — the revelation that life, in its smallest routines, holds endless opportunities for discovery, creativity, and reflection.
I also find myself indulging in the world of K-dramas. These stories have become a cherished part of my routine, a window through which I explore the many facets of life, love, and human emotion. Each series stretches my perceptions, tugging at my heart, challenging my empathy, and inviting me to linger in moments of joy, sorrow, and quiet reflection.
Here are some K-drama series that have lingered in my mind, stirring my emotions and resonating deep within my soul.
I immersed myself in the vast world of online learning, exploring resources that are just a click away. Yet, the abundance of information can sometimes feel overwhelming, like standing at the edge of a vast ocean of knowledge. Perhaps the key is to take it slowly, embracing one course at a time, savoring each lesson as it comes.
I highly recommend exploring online TESDA trainings — a treasure trove of free learning opportunities. It is a chance to expand your skills, cultivate curiosity, and invest in yourself without cost. In a world brimming with resources, it is wise to take full advantage of such opportunities, one thoughtful step at a time.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Split
Mother: A Symphony of Chaos and Love
A mother is often imagined as a figure of gentle hands, a comforting presence in moments of pain, a voice reminding us to rise with the sun, and a heart that nourishes both body and soul. My mother embodies all of this, yet she is unlike any other. She exists in her own intricate world — a place where love and chaos intermingle, where reality and imagination often dance in ways most cannot understand.
Her love is unwavering, though expressed in peculiar, unpredictable ways. Sometimes, her words and actions leave me puzzled, even frustrated. Her moods can descend without warning, and her stories, rich with imagination, wander into realms that seem fantastical, beyond the reach of ordinary comprehension. She loves to speak, to connect, to fill silence with endless conversation. Often, I misunderstand her intentions, and at times the noise of her presence can make our home feel overwhelming. Yet, beneath the eccentricity and unpredictability lies a mother who has given everything for her children, whose sacrifices remain etched into the fabric of my life.
Living with her is a challenge, and yet it is also a lesson in love, patience, and resilience. She is ill — her mind sways unpredictably, her perceptions often fragmented, her behavior is erratic. She deserves understanding, compassion, and professional care. Yet, despite her condition, her love is unmistakable. She protects me fiercely, comforts me in her unique way, and scolds me with the intention to guide, even when her words sting. Her care may not always follow convention, but it is real, profound, and powerful.
My mother possesses a remarkable vitality. Her energy flows through our home in chaotic currents: the unorganized chores, the impulsive trips to unknown places, the conversations that stretch endlessly into the night. From afar, one can recognize her vibrant personality and undeniable presence. Her mind is a tapestry of complexity — sometimes scattered, sometimes brilliant, sometimes bewildering. Reality and imagination intertwine within her, creating moments of beauty, confusion, and wonder.
As her daughter, I have learned to navigate this intricate world, to manage my own life while respecting hers. At times, it is exhausting; at times, it is a struggle to accept the weight of unpredictability. Yet I believe God has placed us in this journey together, giving us challenges to foster strength, resilience, and understanding. Her illness may not have a cure, yet in every day, every interaction, there is growth, patience, and love.
My mother’s strength inspires me. Her eyes radiate confidence and enthusiasm, her courage is unmatched, and her presence reminds me that life is a tapestry of contradictions — chaos and love, fragility and resilience, reality and dreams. She may be unaware of her condition, steadfast in her beliefs, guided by whispers that only she hears, yet she exudes a childlike energy that captivates and endears.
I believe my mother exhibits signs of schizophrenia — a profound mental condition that fragments thought, perception, and emotion. She struggles with sleep, appetite, and the way she experiences reality. Yet despite these challenges, she remains herself: a woman whose raw energy, imagination, and love defy limits, whose journey continues with quiet courage and subtle triumphs.
Today, I am grateful for her presence, for the glimpses of calm and clarity that shine through the chaos. I see in her a raw, childlike force — a woman whose struggles do not diminish her love, whose delusions do not erase her humanity, and whose journey, though turbulent, is a testament to resilience, hope, and the enduring grace of God. In her, I witness the extraordinary: a mother whose imperfect, unpredictable life is also a profound source of courage, joy, and unwavering love.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Through My Eyes: My Brother
I am my own story, yet I have always been observed through the lens of others — today, through the eyes of my sister. She tells me that writing is not my strength, and perhaps she is right. Words, for me, often feel like wandering shadows: elusive, fleeting, difficult to capture. Yet, in her hands, my story seems to take shape, flowing into something that I might never articulate myself.
I am a puzzle of contradictions. Quiet yet bursting with curiosity, stubborn yet surprisingly tender. My laughter echoes more in my sister’s memories than in my own, and my silences are measured, like pauses in a song that only I can hear. I am someone who notices the details others overlook — the way sunlight bends through the window in the afternoon, the rhythm of footsteps along the hallway, the subtle emotions hidden behind casual smiles.
I am imperfect, but in those imperfections lies the essence of who I am. I stumble, I hesitate, I doubt — yet I dream. I dream in bursts of imagination that even I cannot fully understand. My sister says that through her words, I am more than my weaknesses; I am a tapestry of moments, emotions, and tiny victories stitched together.
I am not defined solely by my struggles with words, for words alone cannot contain me. I am the curiosity that drives me to explore, the quiet resilience that pushes me forward, the hidden laughter that surfaces at the most unexpected times. Through her eyes, I see myself anew: a complex, imperfect, yet undeniably alive presence in this world.
I am my brother — but I am also the story someone else tells about me, and perhaps, in that retelling, I discover a version of myself I never knew existed.
Who Am I?
There is a question that lingers in the quiet corners of my mind, one that haunts me whenever I am alone: Who am I? I pause, reflecting on what truly shapes the essence of my being. It is a question without a definitive answer, a puzzle I am still assembling, piece by piece, in the ever-evolving journey of life. Yet, in this essay, I will attempt to capture fragments of myself, as seen through the lens of my own introspection.
I am a mosaic of contradictions, a collection of personalities and impulses dwelling within a single body. I am driven by ambition, a desire to fulfill dreams and carve a meaningful future, yet I am messy, impulsive, and sometimes immature in the subtler aspects of life. I recognize my rough edges, the imperfections I must refine with patience and awareness. I am fiercely devoted to my family, even in moments when my impatience or rudeness overshadows my affection. I may not always be the ideal son or brother, but I strive, in my quiet way, to shoulder responsibility, to act with care, and to leave a mark of love in the small gestures that define everyday life.
Curiosity shapes my soul. I am captivated by the unknown, the uncharted, the mysterious corners of the world. Traveling to faraway places, encountering adventures hidden from the ordinary, fuels my imagination and motivates me to grow, to sharpen my skills, and to pursue a life of exploration. Even in simpler moments, I find solace in the digital realms of computer games — a temporary escape, a place to unwind, and a gentle reminder to breathe amid life’s chaos.
Yet, my temperament is a tempest that cannot always be tamed. I am moody, quick to irritation, and prone to bursts of frustration like a volcano releasing molten fury. My emotions twist unpredictably, fair afternoons transforming into storms of passion. I am stubborn, steadfast in defending my thoughts and beliefs, a rock amid the shifting tides of opinion. I am far from perfect, and I do not pretend to be. I am aware of my flaws: the moments when I sabotage my own efforts, distance myself from others, or let impulsivity govern my choices. Still, I hope to encounter souls who see beyond mistakes and impulses, those who will meet me with understanding and kindness rather than judgment.
Discipline and productivity do not come naturally to me. I often struggle to juggle multiple responsibilities, preferring instead to focus deeply on one task at a time. Details may escape me; organization can be my foe. Writing, in particular, is a challenge — a battlefield where thoughts resist being tamed into words. Yet, here I am, attempting to articulate myself, proof that even weaknesses can transform into acts of courage.
To know oneself is a lifelong endeavor. I am a work in progress, a patchwork of experiences, failures, and lessons slowly coalescing into a masterpiece. My identity is a mosaic of hidden memories, unspoken struggles, and moments I rarely share. I am a shadow and a light, a storm and a calm, a contradiction that thrives in imperfection.
