Biking across the Hills

It's Sunday once again and I was very excited to bike once more. Few days ago, Bro. Donnie and I agreed to go on a biking trip, dreaming of reaching Barangay Bunggo near Tagaytay where Bro. Ramil lives. After weeks of intense Philosophical studies, I say intense because the second years' fidgeting and uneasiness is brushing on me (and that's because of the great de Universa), exams and quizzes with our venerable teachers Fr. Michael La Guardia and Fr. Reggie Porlucas, I thought it best to take a break and ease my mind.

We left at around two in the afternoon and started to bike uphill the gentle slope of Tagaytay. I recently realized that Canlubang sits on the foot of the extinct and titanic bigger-of-the-Taal's volcano. The sweet and fresh Tagaytay perches on the rim of this huge volcano whose crater is the Taal Lake which in the center is the Volcano Island where you can find the smaller and more active volcano. So much for Geography 101, we pushed ahead and lovingly embraced the scorching sun, on our backs our supplies of fresh clean water from the dispenser, a pack of Rosquillos and four pieces of polvoron.

Having watched last night the movie "127 Hours", we made sure we told our respective communities where we were going and brought along a mobile phone, just in case. I brought along my camera to capture the wonderful experience of biking with the great Donnie Duchin Duya.

The route we took was not really challenging, since it is a gradual climb. Even so, it is still a climb and I had to struggle with the Post Novitiate bicycle whose gears are on the brink of breaking and whose transmission chain has a playful habit of jumping away from them. We had to stop several times to fix my bike while at the same time catch our breath and regain strength.

The rural view was quite wonderful. It was my first time to see a plantation of tomatoes, rows and rows of them blanketing the hills like a thick green carpet. Bro. Donnie remarked how abundantly the flowers grow in these sitio's. There was a point in the road where you have this fantastic view of Mt. Makiling, a panoramic view of Southern Luzon plains with the distant Manila skyline as background. On one stop, we observed a colony of Fire Ants, where my curiosity got the better of me and I tried to poke a hole into the pasted leaves they consider their nest. I wasn't able to see what's inside because the ants were quick to detect the intruder and scared him when he saw the soldier ants rushing out of the little hole.

We weren't able to reach our intended destination because time ran out for us. We were already in Barangay Laguerta, a few kilometers away from Bunggo. We surrendered to fate and sat down on a grassy area sheltered by a towering tree. We consumed our provisions, the polvoron and all, before making a U-turn and head home. I had to admit I suffered some cramps in my knees because of all the hard pedaling uphill. Other than this, there was nothing more wonderful than feeling the blast of air across your face as you and your bicycle glide down the slope towards home.

It was wonderful to bike again while chatting along the way. Thank God for the great Donnie Duchin Duya. Thank God for biking. Cheers!

Because They Knew Him Well

Living most of my life near Don Bosco made me realize one thing: the presence of the Amazona's of Don Bosco in Salesian settings. They're not an official group of the Salesian Family, in fact they are not a formal group, but they are more reserved than the VDB's and equally dedicated. I want to honor them because they have been one my inspirations in my vocation.

We jokingly call them Amazona because most of them are single, and not only single but also single-hearted, in serving Don Bosco! You find them working almost quietly (I say 'almost' because most of them are quite noisy, active, and youthful) in offices and classrooms.They may not be consecrated religious but they have chosen to dedicate their time, talent, and even treasure at the service of the Salesian mission da mihi animas, cetera tolle.

I call them "ate's" or elder sister and "kuya's" or elder brother, an address that falls short of the merit that is due them. They spend more hours working than the office hours, with passion and zeal that couldn't be understood outside the Salesian culture. Such dedication, I say, could only come from a real encounter with St. John Bosco. I believe only when you have been touched by the spirit of our Father and Friend can you learn to understand and become what he was for the young.

Most of them have met Don Bosco in the persons of Salesians and Salesian Sisters who have equally lived the Salesian charism and spirit and passed it on to them! Working for, with, and among young people, taxing though it may is a sweet burden of loving service. I remember one of them telling me that it no longer matters to them how much remuneration they receive monthly because the fact that they are sharing the mission of Don Bosco is enough consolation and joy already that money cannot buy.

As a Salesian, I see them as examples and inspiration. Woe to me if I am to go slack in my vocation, these admirable people will surely shame my laxity. I would have like to name them here but, reserved as they are (but in truth they will kill me if I mention them because I just called them "amazona's"), I respect their silent and joyful work. Viva Amazona's!

The Parable of the Lost Friendship

A very close friend asked me how I was and what had happened. Maybe I can sum up my experience in this parable.


***

There once was a bird who would like to build his nest up a towering tree. It was migratory season and the bird needed to build a nest to rest his aching wings. He had traveled a far distance looking for a home. He looked everywhere for some sturdy tree but could find none except one tall and lush bamboo.

"Can I build my nest atop your verdant hair?", he asked.

"With my pleasure, little bird," the swaying bamboo replied.

They both enjoyed each other's company as the wind and breeze played with them, the bird snug in his nest and the bamboo proud to have such a crown in his head, swayed and laughed. The bird has found his home.

Then night came. Both friends did not know that a storm was coming bringing with it thunder, lightning, and rain. It ravaged the land with its howling gales and throughout the darkness both friends were roughly swayed.

When morning came, the sun woke up to find both friends tattered on the ground. The bird awoke at the gentle touch of the sun and saw how the storm has blown the nest, it fell to the ground. Beside him was his friend, the bamboo, bent and crooked, sprawled flat on the earth.

"My friend, it is not good that we stay like this. Try to stand up and I will rebuild my nest in you. The sun is out and the breeze is dancing once more. We cannot miss such an occasion with a passing of night's storm," urged the bird.

"Sorry, little bird, I cannot at this moment stand up erect. I'm bent and crooked I have to find strength again," the bamboo could have said to the bird but he was too tired to say it. He simply said, "just wait there, I'll soon be standing again."

"Oh, sweet bamboo, I have no nest to find home in unless it is in you." So the bird waited.

Hours passed by but the bamboo would not stand up again. This had the bird worried and he was feeling the heat of the oncoming noon.

"Can you, oh please, stand up for me. Am I not your friend that you should let me dry up in the sun?" insisted the bird.

"Can you not wait? I already told you I cannot yet stand," reminded the bamboo.

The bird was rather hurt by such a blunt reply. So he took shade in a little shrub nearby.

Hours came more and the sun was fierce in his might. In the thin foliage of the shrub the little bird saw a flock of birds glide down to the bent bamboo.

"Can we perch here as we wait for the noon to pass?" they asked.

"Sure, sure, my friends," the bamboo replied. The little bird felt pain prick his little heart, he could not understand why.

The bamboo and his new flock danced and laughed, and he grew out several more shoots to accommodate them. He danced and played with them in the breeze, and they were happy indeed.

When the sun had left his mighty throne in the middle of the sky, the flock of birds proceeded to fly. The little bird then from the shrub where he hid, approached his bamboo friend and said, "can I now rebuild my nest in you?"

"You sure are a persistent bird. I asked for time for me to find my strength again that I may stand, but you wouldn't give it to me. You waited for hours and pecked on me. Clearly, you do not understand my situation here. Clearly, there are birds who cannot understand you even if you have sheltered them in your branches," the bamboo said.

"I'm sorry if I was not able to understand you. I was too afraid of the noon sun and I have nowhere else to build my nest," the little bird explained.

But the bamboo was proud, and still would not admit the bird to his verdant hair. The bird, he reasoned in his mind, must learn his lesson, he is after all the king of bamboos. He turned his back to the bird and remained in his pride.

The bird, after a few minutes wait, could not contain his tears. They fell like rain on the field.

"Bamboo, my friend, if only you know how much I desire to build my nest in you and to dance with you once more. But you won't bend for me standing stiff in your pride. I only wished that we dance as friends again the in the breeze. Perhaps I'm not a bird you value as a friend. I'm sorry for having hurt you, none of it was intended.Then, will I fly away and continue my journey. So long."

So in the pink rays of the setting sun, the bird flapped his wings and flew away, disappearing in the last drops of light.

***


And so my friends, this is my little story. Perhaps the bird was just too idealistic and was living in a dream of bliss. Perhaps he was too attached to the bamboo, but I hope the little bird will find other bamboos and trees in which he can build his nest again.