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When I was 11 years old, in between bouts of moral and existential crises, I turned to the Holy Bible, to feed my soul. One particular passage that struck me is about the immense potential of a mustard seed as a basis of faith. That if we only possess faith as big as a mustard seed, nothing is impossible. Now, confronted by another heart-wrenching predicament, I grabbed my rosary and my bible to ease my heartbreak. My heart was not broken once, but too many times, I did not bother to count anymore. I am a wounded warrior. I am with a crushed soul. While writing this, I can feel a pressing pain in my chest. Sometimes, I wonder how I moved past the heavy storms in my life.  When you become old, you'd think you have all the answers. But no. Life is a way of humbling you, nudging you how little you truly know about countless things. Still feeling lost with what I had been reading, I saw myself entering a Catholic institution where my uncle-priest is currently assigned. I was hoping f...

In my ethics classes, my students and I were immersed in a fruitful discussion on moral agents. I posed one question for them to answer. They could draw from their experiences or their observations of people around them. One of the challenges they brought forward was deciphering right actions from wrong ones. From there, I also recalled a recent Facebook post from a friend where she lamented the inability of many people to see into the bad actions they commit, yet very much invested in other people’s wrong actions. Why can we see other people’s faults more than we see ours? And why is it difficult for some agents to identify right from bad actions? Undeniably, every day we are confronted with choices - some could be trivial, while others may be more profound. As moral agents, we assume we possess the capacity to distinguish between ethical and unethical acts. Unfortunately, many of us grapple to identify these two, especially when the layers of power, privilege, and personal gain, come...

I stopped disliking the rain when I was in my 20s. Before that, I used to think of it as an inconvenience - muddled shoes, disrupted plans, gloomy skies. Similar to other people, I dread dark clouds appearing over my head. Where I used to live, I worried about the flooding and the damage it would bring. But as I have grown older, I see the rain more positively. I have realized it is more than weather - it cools down people and goes beyond what is physical.   For starters, I noticed that the rain has the power to pause or restrict unethical behaviors we often see in our daily lives. For example, the streets go empty with town chismosas (gossipers), who seem to flock together under the sun and find themselves lost during heavy rains. On a typical sunshiny day, they cluster to share the latest news and scandals. Even with the advent of technology, they could not find satisfaction in social media exchange or group chat. Stories are best savored with gestures, facial twitching, eyes ...

Purpose is a force that shapes our lives. Have you ever found yourself lost in the complexities of living, unsure of where to turn? In December last year, that’s exactly where I was. The weight of daily life left me feeling lethargic and unmotivated as if something vital was missing. In search of answers, I turned to a stack of self-help books—Atomic Habits by James Clear, The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene, Ikigai by Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles, among others. Yet, despite the wisdom these pages offered, I realized that finding one’s purpose isn’t about following someone else’s path. It’s about reconnecting with the passions that make you feel most alive. For me, that meant returning to something I am truly passionate about—writing. There was a time when writing flowed effortlessly like a faucet on my hands. I remember my college years when I used to "ghostwrite" essay assignments for my classmates. I never had trouble with words. Obviously, for me, writing is more...

Such a long time before I finally decided to revisit this blog. I have been too immersed with my academic pursuits that I tried to let go of things that make me happy. More than a decade, at that! It was in 2012 when I started teaching after so many years of being a full-time mom. I find it best, since my husband, a seafarer at that time, was looking after our needs. And I wanted to be there with the kids, while they are on their formative years. After his health deteriorated, my husband saw it a sign to finally settle home. I have been the breadwinner since. Not that I am complaining. I was initially fearful, not knowing whether I can really fulfill the obligations of a provider. And yet here I am, a proud mother of a college graduate and two Senior High students. I transferred to a state university, too. I devoted three years to a private university and I am thankful for the environment that nurtured me to become a diligent and passionate teacher. It was also there that I formed my p...