B_r_a_v_e_s_o_u_l

Generation Unbound. Prometheus Unbound. A people unbound. These random words bound with the word “unbound” may, for most people, be as I have initially thought them to be – empty random words. But then again, for some, I know they speak of a multitude… of thoughts, of feelings, of dealings and of believing in something worth unbounding.

I speak in riddles I know and by now, I would have lost a considerable number of onlookers. But that is the point. This is not about getting my views across. This is about unleashing this roaring voice within me, this thumping emotion wanting to set itself free. Never mind if it falls on deaf ears. It is no different from “speaking the gospel to ears unwilling to hear.”

There is much talk about “Generation Unbound” these days. And it scares me. It scares me that, as I have heard on that timid all saints day afternoon, I might not find myself at the thick of its unbounding.

The literature reads: “The plan was more ancient than galactic dust. It was birthed in the age before the universe was born. Even before time began. All the darkness in eras past could not tempt its premature unveiling. Because it’s purpose and time were appointed. But now the time has come … the moment has begun. The Generation with the favor of God has risen. Behold. Generation Unbound. It’s happening.”

It is indeed happening. I am witnessing people living up to it, young minds speaking up and getting heard, little voices singing loud and playing music they have never heard  before. Young men with their dreams of books and a learning pub and sacrificing to see it born. It is taking shape right before my very eyes. New Rizals (of which I’d like to write about too) living off “batya’s” in Europe, much like Rizal’s “batya” filled with ice-cold water on his cold study nights several generations ago.

It is about a movement unseen, one that figures only in the hearts of those who hear, unraveling a purpose, but only for those who dare.

It is all too magnificent, all too vivid…. but where am I in the midst of all these?

I paused long and hard. Kept to my knees and to my folded hands, wanting to understand, longing to know, yearning to be called to give meaning to it too. I knocked and I waited, demanding for an answer… only to discover I had held it all along, I have had it on the palm of my hands long ago but I simply refused to see.

How could I have been so naïve? How could I have been so complacent, unworried, unmoving, unresponsive, to the point of being stubborn? Why didn’t I take it to heart when I was much younger, to make a bigger difference, to mark a larger battlefield?

Oh indeed, I am disappointed … but not altogether disarmed. I have found the answer haven’t i? And I’ve still got, on my very same palms, the advantage of time, and definitely of opportunity. I shall not wait, I shall not waiver. I shall strive to keep to the movement, knowing there are trees to be planted, though I may no longer live to enjoy the comforts of their broad and leafy boughs.

I should have been, but that doesn’t mean, I could no longer be, the wind beneath the vanguards’ wings. Eight years summed up was a long time to learn, but eight years can be the same inspiration to unlearn, relearn and to finally …truly learn.

I know I can keep to my role for yet another 8, for I have found my joy, in committing to do unselfishly greater “mores”… that others may be propelled a little further, that others may soar a little more higher.

I speak of the people I serve and how I am aware that they rely on me for certain things only my selfish or unselfish “I” can deliver. In the past, I knew this power I wielded. Yet I was unwilling to yield, thinking I was not to merit anyways. It was all about me and my footing in this race with men.

But now, confident and unbound, I am all too eager to assent, knowing that in my unbounding comes a sense of “fulfilling.” Never mind if I stay in the shadows. The light of my lamp is enough to keep me snug and warm on those cold dragging nights. It is no longer about running with and against men to earn a sense of recognition, or to acquire more knowledge I alone can wield. It is about rising up to the call, knowing I am relied upon, squinting to run a mile more under the scorch of the midday sun, knowing I hold the baton, bending only for an audience of one.

Oh yes, another eight years where I am will no longer be much cause for wallowing, for I too, have finally recognized the prospects of paying things forward, that others may take their cue and pay it even “farther forward.”

I speak of the people who support me, who look up to me and rely on me for direction and purpose in their everyday work. After all, I am no supervisor where I have no squad to commission.

How little I thought of ‘me” in the past, blinded from the reality that I have been-and continue to be- mentored by the stalwarts of my industry. Now, it should no longer be about where this mentoring has catapulted me, but what abundance this has burried inside of me, which I can either choose to fetter or choose let loose. There is much to share because much has been given. And I am humbled.

Oh, my One is nonetheless amazing, much less, amusing. He has cast me in such an inimitable role where I can have the profits of both reaping it upward and paying it forward. There is nothing more ideal, nothing more right, more appropriate than where I am right now. It is not the least behind, nor is it the least ahead. Oh, it is just in time, and with a heart that is just ripe for the calling of` “Generation Unbound.”

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An Afterthought….  “Unbounding my friend”

I was about to post this piece when a good friend from my SG circle called to ask if we can meet. Aware that she’s leaving for the US this Saturday, I dropped, without hesitation, everything I was doing and ran to our meeting place. Mosaic Lounge was still close ( at 12:00 noon on a Monday), so we decided to have lunch and coffee somewhere.

We cried and we hugged and we shared stories, realizing this might be our last chance to enjoy such fellowship. Last Monday, much to her chagrin, she was granted a US Visa to work as pre-school teacher in Maryland. She wasn’t the least boastful. In fact, when we met, she had a very heavy heart, burdened about leaving behind her family, her work, her church and her country. She prayed for it not to materialize, she prayed for the embassy not to grant her a Visa if this was not meant to be. But she got one, and she was all too sad about leaving, bittersweet about the whole thing.

I was crying almost the entire time, trying to grasp how strong the unbound movement was spreading like an airborne epidemic. Her US Embassy experience was a truly unbounding story indeed. She told me about how the woman consul was so kind to her, easing her nervousness at the start of her interview. But it was not to last as the consul all too soon got irritated about a question she failed to answer.

“So how much will annual salary be?,” the consul asked.

She was dumbfounded. She honestly did not know. She cautiously threw a figure in the air, and realized it infuriated the consul even more. The consul checked the computer records and rattled off the exact figure, commenting about her wanton ways of not bothering to know important details.

Didn’t she know the cost of living in the is much higher than in the Philippines? Didn’t she realize she has to know how much she needs to fend for her needs? Wasn’t that what this visa application was all about? To earn dollars?

And so she said simply said sorry, for neglecting such a detail, for not bothering to remember what her employer mentioned over a previous phone interview, plainly mentioning it wasn’t about the money…. unable to express, of course, the deep seated impetus inside of her. It wasn’t about the money, it was about living up to the job her sister found for her. It wasn’t about how much she will get in return, it was about how qualified she must have been to even be granted an employer’s recommendation.

But just as she felt energy being drained off her, she saw the consul was once again about to “erupt.”

“So, what will your job be in Maryland?”

“A teacher,a pre-school teacher.”

“Of children what age?”

“From 3 to 7.” (As if she was too dumb not to know).

“And so what is your degree?”

“I am a psychology graduate,” she uttered with much confidence.

“How dare you dream of becoming a teacher in my land when you didn’t even finish education?”

She was totally drained.

“I finished psychology, but my professional experience and my education units have earned me a professional teaching license.”

“But what do your documents reflect?” glared the consul.

She handed her documents nervously, remembering her employer made a huge mistake about that same item. “I’m sorry, but my US documents say I finished education. I have already pointed that out to my employer.”

“See, you mis-represented yourself. They probably hired you knowing you finished education. How can a psychology graduate teach pre-school children?”

“It is not about my degree, ma’am but my passion and my qualifications for the job. I know my heart is in teaching, and so I had been one the moment I finished school. I took up education units so I can earn this much deserved professional license,” she mumbled, as she shoved her professional license down the counter hole.

“It isn’t my degree but my experience and my willingness that makes me a teacher,” she concluded with less than an ounce, if it can be quantified that way, of energy left within her. And with that, she got one more glaring look from the consul before she was instructed to proceed to the cashier’s booth to pay for her passport’s courier service.

Her world was spinning. She was angry. She wanted to shout to the whole world, the US more importantly, that not all Filipinos go there for the dollars. She wanted to scream her heart out, to say she wasn’t heading there (and pardon my language) to “suck-off green money.” It wasn’t about that at all. It was definitely not.

We were both crying when she finished the story. Clearly, -  judging by the consul’s line of questioning – The One has exalted her on two significant values : her motivation … and her purpose for leaving.

It was much clearer to both of us by now. I too was heavy about her leaving. I honestly didn’t want her to leave. I couldn’t imagine SG sessions without her. Crying and hugging still, we said our goodbyes, but not without her thanking The One for an albeit brief, but eye-opening fellowship, between two good friends who will have to be separated for the time being.

I clearly, distinctly remember her parting words to me… “You’ve helped lift my burden, Frances.Now, I know, there are 3 people leaving for the US this Saturday. There is Elsa, the teacher, Elsa the instrument of The One, and Elsa the Filipino. I shall be the best Filipino teacher that school will ever know. I don’t how I will and I don’t know how I can,but I know I should, that I may raise His name and the name of the Filipino.”

And so my friend has been unbound. And so I have, once more, in a span of days, been myself, unbound.

I’ve had my highs and I’ve had my lows. I’ve had defeats but I’ve also had victories and battles won- those that only I and my One will ever know.

I’ve had days when nothing seemed right… but I simply chose to keep right on.

But the more I think of it, the more it dawns on me that I’ve had more days, when lost as I had always felt I was, and feeble as I had always conceded myself to be, I found “me”, at the descent of each night, retiring to a sense of balance, of calmness and security. Those were days I struggled to keep to my knees though absolutely no words came…though emptiness preceded me.

It was no different from taking a train ride to a destination unplanned, more so unconsidered, but keeping to the ride anyhow, knowing the train is definitely headed somewhere and the trainman is in control.

I have nothing much to show on the outside - no title to boot, no swanky position to stamp on my name cards, no fancy car and stuff to say I have “indeed” arrived. Leave me alongside my colleagues and I’d start looking deprived by time, still wielding a rank I’ve had for the past 8 years, 8 long years of my life. Eight years with no movement has definitely been frustrating and downright unflattering, especially if 7 out of 8, have been nothing but tumultuous rides and unshifting tides.

But last night, I found myself counting victories and uncovering more triumphs than I could consider. My heart was racing fast as my One took me through a journey, back through 8 laborious years, and showed me how I had been reaping conquests, after all, more than what I thought to be defeats… and how I had been harvesting, all along, what I have failed to recognize as diamonds in the dust. They kept on coming, this avalanche of gold, that I had to close my eyes and shut my ears, and beg for all these to stop.

The joy was too much for me to handle, too exhilarating for me to contain within the confines of my undeserving heart. It was ruining and not sustaining me at all. I started exalting myself over my neighbors, and began reveling in conceit knowing my victories were of a different and rare kind.

But I honestly cannot contain my joy. Out of the abundance of my heart, a wellspring of victories is waiting to flow. And much as I’d love to keep this within, I’d much rather see this gushing stream spill out and find its way back to its source. Maybe I can keep some to myself, but just enough to leave me perched on my knees, and sufficient to tide me through my moments of tenacity. I have, after all, a lot more victories to reap.

Victory, after all, is not a flag raised, high above the battlefields, for everyone to see. Victory is, after all, the serenity that calms each battle-ridden heart at the end of each day and the equanimity that resonates through each new day afterwards.

As I inscribe these thoughts onto my journal, a song keeps playing in my mind. For all I know, I may have summoned it from somewhere and bound it close to my heart, knowing I need it, admitting I am still too raw, still too shallow to hold such affluence. And so I re-phrased it to my liking to assume what (I have conceded to be) my feeble self can… for the time being… fathom and embrace…

in my One alone will I glory though i could pride myself in battles won
for i’ve been blessed beyond measure and by His strength alone i overcome
oh i could stop and count successes like diamonds in my hands
but those trophies could not equal to the grace by which i stand…

in my One alone i place my trust
and find my glory in the power of the cross,

in every victory let it be said of me,
my source of strength, my source of hope is in my One alone

in my one alone will i triumph for only by His grace i am redeemed
and only His tender mercy could reach beyond my weakness to my need
and now i seek no greater honor than just to know Him more
and to count my gains but losses to the glory of my One.

in my One alone I place my trust
and find my glory in the power of the cross,
in every victory let it be said of me
my source of strength, my source of hope is in my One.. and my One, alone.

And so I withdraw into the night, ready for the morrow where there await more battles to be won and more victories to be shared between me and my One.