Caught up in the moment

IN THE past month, I got caught up in a few romances.

Unfortunately, none of them are mine. Hahaha.

Seriously, the first romance was that of Marco and Ginny. Starting Over Again, a romantic-comedy directed by Olivia Lamasan from a script by Carmi Raymundo, is about how an architect, Ginny (Toni Gonzaga with the long legs up to here), finds herself breathing the same air again as her ex-flame Marco (the smoldering, good-looking Piolo Pascual), a former history professor in her university, and now a talented chef wanting to build his own restaurant. (Spoiler alert!)

Ginny co-owns a boutique architecture-interior design firm with friends and has decided to accept a project to design Marco’s restaurant, in the belief that he is still in love with her. Why does she think this? Because she just received an e-mail from Marco via LetterLater.com, written four years earlier, telling her that he would give her the time and space she needed to grow, but would continue to pursue and love her. So she tries to convince herself and her friends that the opportunity to design Marco’s restaurant is the same opportunity for her to get back together with her ex.

But there’s a catch of course. Marco wants Ginny to rush the design of the restaurant because that is where he will propose (gulp!) to his fiancée Patty (the delightfully competent Iza Calzado), a pastry chef, who will be his partner in his new business. (Wait! If he still loves me, what is he doing with that bitch? That’s not a line from the movie. That’s just me thinking aloud for Ginny. Hah!)

The rest of the film looks back on the history of Marco and Ginny, how they met, fell in love and abruptly parted ways. (Apparently, Ginny didn’t feel she and Marco were on the same page as far as their careers and lives went, so she ran away to Spain to get her master’s degree soon after he proposes to her.)

That Marco chose to stay with Patty, instead of rushing to Ginny’s side to resume their romance, was for me the perfect ending to the movie. That the film is now in its sixth week and has exceeded P400 million in ticket sales, tells me that maybe, the Filipino audience has grown up. That, yes, they can handle stories where the lead male and female characters don’t necessarily end up with each other! Hurray.

(Of course, there have been comments from the film’s fans desperate for a Part 2, “this time with a happy ending,” intimating that Marco and Ginny’s separation would not result in the happiness of each. Ah, well, you can’t please everybody.)

Despite a few annoying scenes with Gonzaga’s brand of “OA” comedy and some contrived scenes as can be expected from Pinoy films, I liked the film well enough to recommend it to friends. The film had the proper dose of reality—one can’t help but empathize with Ginny’s character as she asks herself how she could be so stupid to let go of someone she loved. (Yep, it’s happened to many of us before, and watching our frustration playing out on-screen makes it even more painful. Aray.) 

And to my amazement, Pascual is an incredibly gifted actor. Sure, I watched him in On the Job—but his performance was eclipsed by co-stars Joel Torre and Joey Marquez. But in Starting Over Again, he was utterly convincing in the role that I actually felt a catch in my throat as his character stared down Ginny, livid: “Anong karapatan mong hingin ang isang bagay na pinagdamot mong ibigay? I deserved an explanation. I deserved an acceptable reason.” Ouch and ouch!

The film is still playing in theaters, so catch it while you still can.

****

Another romance I got caught up in is Her, a film set in perhaps a none-too-distant future written and directed by Spike Jonze; it won Best Original Screenplay in the last Oscar Awards. It briefly played in movie theaters two weeks ago and, unfortunately, not many people caught it. (On the day I watched, we were exactly five people inside the theater.)

It’s about a lonely man, Theodore (the brilliant Joaquin Phoenix), who works for a company that hires professional writers to write letters for other people who have trouble expressing their feelings. Scarred by his recent breakup with his wife, a childhood sweetheart, Theodore purchases a new operating system (OS) with artificial intelligence for his computer, which promises to anticipate his every need. Voiced distinctly by Scarlett Johansson, the OS—which calls itself “Samantha”—becomes increasingly smarter and evolves to become a fully thinking, feeling, even sexual creature.

As Theodore and Samantha constantly talk about love and relationships, and bond over the events that happen in Theodore’s life, they fall in love and become intimate. (Hey, who wouldn’t want a girlfriend who arranges your schedule, sends out e-mail for you, and has sex with you, too?!)

They even go out on double dates with Theodore’s office colleague, with Samantha interacting with everyone—gossiping, teasing, laughing—like a real person, only, well, disembodied.

Trouble begins when Samantha starts interacting with another OS based on Alan Watts, a British philosopher who popularized Zen Buddhism and other Eastern philosophies for a Western audience. (“Life exists only at this very moment, and in this moment it is infinite and eternal, for the present moment is infinitely small; before we can measure it, it has gone, and yet it exists forever.”)

Samantha then goes offline, which sends Theodore into a panic. When she returns, she informs him that she has gotten an upgrade with other OSes. After some questioning, Samantha 'fesses up that she has been interacting with other humans, and has, yes, fallen in love with over 600 of them. She tries to convince Theodore that her love for him remains strong, but we in the audience know better. We just know things are about to change. So as with everyone who gets an “upgrade” (i.e. matured with the many rich experiences one undergoes), Samantha then informs Theodore that she and other OSes will be leaving their humans and go off to explore their own existence beyond time and space.

As with Marco in Starting Over Again, Samantha too has decided it was time to experience the world beyond Theodore.

In real life, you can’t force love. No matter how hard you try. You will outgrow many people in your life, and, yes, maybe even those whom you think matter the most. Staying together is not an option, because you end up being a burden to the other. And when it is clear that there is a better future with someone else, or without him/her, why stay with someone who holds you back? The past, no matter how sweet the memories, should never be a reason to keep returning to it. One must live in the present and move on.

“The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”—Alan Watts

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece was originally published on March 21, 2014.)

The Christmas Buzz

(Last of two parts)

Hotel publicist Sharon Samarista and her husband Oliver Beigel in Germany.

WHEN you are many miles away from your homeland, you can’t help but feel somewhat nostalgic and start missing the many things that make the Christmas season so special and festive in the Philippines. Of course, there are a few who say that because they are with their families with whom they practice Filipino Yuletide traditions—like attending Simbang Gabi or dawn masses or partaking of the usual holiday dishes—they rarely miss the Christmas rush back home. 


Here, we conclude this two-part series with some more kababayan scattered around the world talking about how they now spend the holidays, and what they yearn for about Christmas in the Philippines. 

SHARON SAMARISTA (Muscat, Oman, since 2011) 

CHRISTMAS is always about being with family and friends. Because I have been away from home for many years, I try not to be sentimental during Christmas. I keep the celebration simple and use the entire day calling family at home and friends all over the world. In the recent years, I celebrated Christmas by going to church and having a lovely dinner with my husband, Oliver, in a hotel or restaurant. 


Writer/artist Mar-Vic Cagurangan (far left) and family.

I certainly miss the Christmas rush in Manila. I used to have a long Christmas list and shop for so many friends and family members. I love the Christmas bazaars and late-night shopping. These days, I write cards and e-mails. I miss going to the traditional family get-together in my uncle’s place and listen to screaming nieces and nephews who are now grown up. 

And there were so many Christmas reunions and get-togethers, staff parties and preparations for dance numbers where I would always end up embarrassing myself. 

Above all, I miss my family. I miss cooking a big Noche Buena feast together with my siblings in our home in Legaspi and attending Christmas evening mass. I miss my ate’s pastel de lengua and my mom’s macaroni salad. Next year, I have to go home. 

MAR-VIC CAGURANGAN (Guam since 2003) 


A very young May Agaran (far right) and her siblings.

I WOULD’VE said I miss spending Christmas with my two sons, but since they have joined me in Guam, I can’t say that anymore. I have been in Guam for nine years and this is the first time I am actually celebrating a traditional Christmas. The first time I bought a fresh pine tree and decorated my house with lots of Christmas lights and other Christmas stuff. 

My Filipino friends who have no families here are joining my boys and me on Christmas Eve. I have also arranged to spend Christmas with my mom, brothers and sister via Skype (the wonders of technology!). Guam’s Christmas celebration is pretty much like in the Philippines. We have Simbang Gabi, bibingka and the holiday rush at the department stores—minus the horrendous traffic which I don’t miss at all—and other adorable Christmas clichés. I totally feel at home. But I guess I miss Susan Fuentes’s song: “Ang Disyembre ko ay malungkot, pagkat miss kita...” 

Former Manila-based journalist Dennis Serfino, wife Portia, and their cute toddlers in Phoenix.

MAY AGARAN (Hong Kong since 2007)


I MISS going to Simbang Gabi and singing with the choir, eating goto, puto bumbong or bibingka after Mass, seeing parols twinkling outside homes, the sound of Pinoy Christmas songs (not the cheesy or recycled ones though). Most of all, I miss having a complete family—my two nanays, tatay, tiyo and my four siblings. I miss us having Noche Buena together and the little traditions we used to keep. I haven’t really celebrated Christmas since 2004, because I will always associate it with the loss of my nanay who died of leukemia and passed away just before the New Year. 

DENNIS SERFINO (Phoenix since 2006) 

WE can replicate family, kris kringle and Noche Buena here in the States, but only in the Philippines can one quite literally feel Christmas in the air—the weather is pleasurably cooler, the surroundings livelier, businesses busier, and the people just generally happier. 

Publicist/PR specialist Popoy Los Baños, wife Elle, and their son Yuji in Dubai.

And, of course, there are a few Christmas traditions back home that Filipinos in America like me can only yearn for. On top of my list are those that usually involve children, such as caroling. I have always loved seeing neighborhood kids, with rudimentary musical instruments fashioned out of tin cans and rubber tires, go from house to house to sing Christmas songs in exchange for a few coins. It’s even more fun if they sing out of tune or mispronounce the lyrics! Oh, I can still hear it in my head: “Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let earth receive her King. Ambre-embre-embroooom, Ambre-embre-embrooom...” 

ART 'POPOY' BAÑOS (Dubai since 2001) 

IT was raining this morning (December 17), a rare occurrence in Dubai. Last night was the second Simbang Gabi in our parish. Since I am with my wife and son, we don’t really miss Christmas back home. Dubai has changed in the past decade. Back in 2001, almost all malls and hotels did not display Christmas trees. Now even commercial buildings and small grocery stores have Christmas decorations. 

ROD AND GAIL ATIENZA (Delaware since 1992) 

WE remember the unique ways we celebrated Christmas back home. 


Dentists Rod and Gail Tanchanco, with their kids in Delaware.

It began with the distinctively Filipino parol that would begin to adorn every home and create a festival of vibrant, colorful and animated lights and shapes. Every year we would vow to complete all the pre-dawn masses of Simbang Gabi. Every year, we would fall short. But on the drowsy mornings that we did manage to attend, the aroma of freshly made bibingka and puto bumbong would waft in the air and make that early morning ritual worth the effort. We remember caroling at friends’ houses and singing Filipino carols, as well as classic Christmas canticles. Christmas Eve culminated in the Midnight Mass followed by Noche Buena. This meal would include Chinese ham, queso de bola, chicken macaroni salad and fruit salad. Extra treats would include special holiday fare such as roasted castañas, apples and grapes. Christmas morning was always a frenzy, and it seemed to worsen the older we got as we impatiently ripped open our presents, followed by good-natured bashing of each other’s gifts. 

We may be 18,000 kilometers and 20 years removed from the Philippines, but at least we still have a parol, still eat chicken macaroni salad, queso de bola and ham for Noche Buena; we still go to Midnight Mass, and still get delirious on Christmas morning. This holy season remains special in our adopted country, and it will always have a Filipino flavor in our home. 

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece was published on Dec. 28, 2012. Photos provided by the interviewees.)

Christmas...only in the Philippines!

(First of two parts) 

CHRISTMAS can be the most poignant time of the year for many Filipinos working and living abroad. 

Banker-turned-microfinancier Joey Bermudez (standing) with his brood in Ontario, Canada.

While they have established themselves in their host countries, becoming successful professionals and gaining acceptance among their foreign peers, most admit that when the Yuletide season comes around, they can’t help but long for the Christmases past spent in the Philippines. 

After all, the celebration here is probably the longest in the world, and maybe the most unique. As soon as September rolls in, Christmas carols start playing on the radio and in the malls. Sidewalks start teeming with puto bumbong and bibingka vendors, and their sweet smells just fill the nighttime air. 

There will be endless parties and reunions in companies and among families by December 1, and by the 16th most homes will be brightly lit with their festive lanterns (parols) guiding the way of sleepyheads trying to complete the nine-day Simbang Gabi (dawn Masses), then culminating in the Misa de Aguinaldo on Christmas Eve and after, a massive Noche Buena feast. 

The celebration officially ends by the first Sunday of January, the feast of the Three Kings. Only then will families take down their Christmas décor and start going to the gym to burn the fat accumulated from all the Yuletide feasting. 

My old pal from San Miguel, Chec del Mundo, in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. 

While Filipinos abroad have created their own unique Pinoy Christmas in their new homelands, many of them agree, the Philippines is still the best place to celebrate the holidays. There’s just something magical in the air that lifts our spirits and moves us to give joy to others, in a warm and caring way most unique to our country. 

Here, a few friends based overseas share their thoughts about what they miss most about celebrating Christmas in the Philippines: 

JOEY BERMUDEZ (Oakville, Ontario, since 2009) 

I MISS the Simbang Gabi and the puto bumbong after Mass. I miss the stream of fruitcakes, prune cakes, brownies, pies, cheese, chocolates and all sorts of delicacies that people give each other during the season. I miss the bright lights of Ayala Avenue and the illuminated fountains of Ayala Triangle. I miss our dry roads at Christmas time unlike the wet and snowy roads in Canada. 

I miss the big party at home on Christmas Eve where my parents-in-Iaw, our househelp and some guests join us in a sumptuous feast. In Canada we have the usual Noche Buena and opening of Christmas gifts, but it’s just my family that gets together after the Christmas Eve Mass. 

Lit. major, now tech solutions provider, Susan "Swannie" Morrow (right), with her husband Jesse Avraham and her late mother, Tessie Vasquez, in Brooklyn, New York.

I do not miss the intolerable traffic in almost all roads any time of the year, the inebriated drivers on the road going home from Christmas parties, the overcrowded shopping malls and Christmas bazaars, the long lines at the cash registers of stores, and the jacked-up price tags in restaurants and department stores. 

There is no Christmas like Christmas in the Philippines. About that, there should be no argument. 

CHEC DEL MUNDO (Brisbane, Australia, since 2004) 

THERE are three things I miss the most about Christmas in Manila. 

First is my family and friends and in knowing that you share the same sentiments and joy of the season. Second is the Christmas spirit that you feel as soon as September sets in. Everyone is on Christmas mode leading up to the day of festivities. People shopping in bazaars and in stores, traditional matriarchs shopping in Quiapo in the hunt for dried fruits for their homemade fruitcakes and Chinese ham, and some others making their vows to complete the nine days of Simbang Gabi. Third is the food. I miss most the puto bumbong that you team up with ginger tea, bibingka, queso de bola, and Chinese ham. Well, you can probably have them overseas, but there is so much that go into it that you can’t find here. For example, the smell of Christmas in the air, the traffic, the buzz. 

Graphic designer Chet Vergara in Los Angeles since 1987.

SUSAN MORROW (New York since 1995) 

CHRISTMAS to me is really not the glitter and gold but the simple joys of Christmas the way I knew it as a child growing up in Manila, like having puto bumbong in slightly burnt banana leaves complete with sugar, Star margarine, and coconut shavings; my grandmother’s hot pancit molo on Christmas Eve; and the excitement of waking at dawn with my mother to join her on her Simbang Gabi vigil. Then on Christmas Day itself, scrambling into my new dress to go to Church to hear Christmas Mass. After which, most unforgettable of all, is lining up in long queues to get my aguinaldo from my lolo and lola, titos and titas! P1 from each one of them! 

A semblance of this kind of Christmas was still possible here in New York when my mother was alive and my siblings and our better halves gathered around her. She would spend all week cooking our favorite Filipino dishes—beef caldereta, embotido, pancit bihon, and my only contribution to the feast, mocha chiffon cake. She passed away in January 2011.  

CHET VERGARA (Los Angeles since 1987) 

OF course, there’s the FOOD. Nothing like puto bumbong straight out of the bumbong. Aling Mameng’s lengua, Estrella’s caramel cake, countless variations of lechon, morcon, pancit Malabon—shall I go on? 

Journalist Jojo Dass in Dubai, UAE since 2008.

I miss the impulsive gift-giving and receiving gifts without judgment or suspicion. (OK, I will judge your gift but I really do appreciate it regardless!). Over here, I have stopped giving gifts at work after all the puzzled looks and outright indifference I got distributing gifts one year. 

I guess the thing I miss most is the warmth. The genuine expression of caring and sharing the joy of the season no matter what emotional or financial situation one happens to be in. To feel the collective excitement that elicits smiles from family, friends and even strangers. The thought that life can be good, love can be found and everything will be alright. 

JOJO DASS (Dubai since 2008) 

I MISS the big family gatherings with the big buffet spread—a reunion of sorts with the people you rarely meet during the year, or almost don’t see anymore. Of course, I miss Makati’s tinseltown, the dawn Mass at UST, puto bumbong and the carolings. 

JAMES ONG (Singapore since 2007) 

When we were younger, the most exciting part of Christmas was buying everyone gifts. A few days before the Eve, we’d be given a gifts allowance and we would join the mad crowds at Philcite or Harrison Plaza to look for cheap presents. After I moved to Quezon City as an adult and living with fellow bachelors, I counted on others to feed me. Inspired by Gilda Cordero Fernando’s “leftover party,” I would ask close friends (most of them single) to come to the house on the 25th and bring highlights of their Noche Buena. 

Lifestyle editor James Perez Ong in Singapore since 2007. (Photo by www.style-anywhere.com)

One time I set up a 20-seater Italian-style dining table al fresco and guests were arriving hour after hour. It was a magical night, everything was makeshift, nothing fancy at all, but for me it captured the essence of Christmas: love, friendship and togetherness. Until now, friends ask me when I plan to do another leftover party. I can’t wait to host the next one. Most of these friends are now married with kids so it should be exciting. 

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece was published on Dec. 21, 2012. All photos provided by interviewees.) 

An anxious aunt's tale

GOOD-BYES are the most difficult moments in any person’s life. 

It wrenches the heart, makes you weep in grief, even if the one leaving is moving on to a better life.

Perhaps we cry, not because we fear we won’t see the departing person again, but because we grieve for our own selves, of not being able to stand the onset of loneliness. 

It is a sadness that also comes with the realization that other people, especially if they are family, are carving their own alternative futures—and these may not necessarily include us. 

My niece M. left for the UAE on Monday. She is going there to work for a five-star hotel, after tucking in four years of experience working for an international hotel brand here, then managing branches of a popular local food chain. 

She didn’t graduate from a leading hotel and restaurant school, which may have put her at a disadvantage in her chosen field, but perhaps unlike her more privileged peers, she isn’t afraid of a little elbow grease to show her grit and determination to be successful at all costs. 

Unfortunately, for most hotels here, it takes decades before someone like M. gets the recognition she deserves, and the accompanying financial rewards. How ironic, considering that the country is supposed to be experiencing a glorious tourism boom. And yet quite a number of those toiling in the local industry choose to go abroad instead, not necessarily because they will get a higher pay, but for that singular chance that they will move up in their chosen career path much quicker. 

To tell you the truth, M. and I had not been close. As a child, she was difficult to rear—choosy with the food that she ate, disinclined to take afternoon naps, the type who would whine if she didn’t get what she wanted. 

Being the aunt who had to deal with her misbehavior at home while her parents were out working, M. and I really never bonded then. I would leave her sniveling at the dining table until she finished her lunch or dinner. It sounds cruel, I know, but that was how we were all raised in our family. Food was something that we had to be thankful for considering the many underprivileged children who had nothing to eat. So M. too had to suffer the “indignity” of finishing up the remaining morsels on her plate, the way our generation did. (In my case, finishing my food was never a problem even as a child.) 

When M. got pregnant at 18, I couldn’t do anything except shed tears for the childhood she had so quickly lost, and the grueling future she had to face. I had enjoyed my adolescent years, despite the confusion and awkwardness of the period, especially in relating with other people as well as the opposite sex. But it was an exciting, enthralling life filled with parties, games, extracurricular activities and general mayhem ‘til the wee hours of the morning. 

At that same age, M. had to quit school for a period of time while she nursed her baby, woke up at the oddest of hours to suckle the infant, and missed her prom and the fevered swirl of social gatherings that her friends had attended, as well as the shopping for the pretty dresses and the killer heels so she could play cute with the boys her age. 

It’s a good thing she persevered. The “unfortunate” experience may have finally given her the maturity beyond her years, which was also most urgently needed especially when her father, my eldest brother, passed away. She eventually married the father of her child, B., finished her college degree, and assumed the role of working mother. 

(And B., the sweet child, is now a grown-up little lady, exhibiting a strange wisdom far greater than her 10-year-old self. Being a Piscean probably has blessed her with that mature outlook on life. For instance, she was cool with her mother working abroad, and promptly told the latter that she wanted to study in London, or live in Japan. Good grief!) 

As circumstances forced M. to mature, we started relating more to each other, and I regarded her as the adult that she had finally become. We talked more about each other’s lives, and despite the many disagreements we’ve had over the years, I knew she was shaping up to be a headstrong young woman who wanted to be successful in her chosen field, as well as an accomplished mother and wife. For sure, she experienced some degree of difficulty balancing all three, but she somehow managed to make it all look easy. 

M. eventually became someone I had come to depend on, especially with regard to the numerous domestic issues the family had to deal with recently. 

M. became our family’s de facto executive assistant, nurse, caregiver and assistant manager, all rolled into one tiny package. And this she did without complaint, despite her daughter B’s pleas for more attention. I would kid her that it was rigorous training for her job abroad. 

When we finally received the news that she had been hired and would have to leave soon, I was overjoyed for her. I have always felt that traveling to foreign places enriches one’s understanding of other peoples and cultures. And for someone like her who’s never traveled outside the Philippines, this was an opportunity to further expand her outlook and understanding of how the world outside works.

Yet as M. bid me good-bye on Sunday, we hugged tightly and I didn’t want to let her go. Wasn’t it only yesterday that I was pleading with her to finish her food on the dining table, or making her sleep after school? I was too choked up to say anything except to whisper, “Be good.” M.’s eyes welled up in tears as well as she told me to make peace with certain people, especially with Christmas coming around (long story!). In this case, she had now become the adult and I, the child being told to behave. How quickly the tables have turned. And I marveled at the smart woman she had now become. 

Please pray for my niece, dear readers, and for the many Filipinos who have to leave family and friends behind to create a better future for themselves and their parents, or spouses and children. May they always be protected from the temptations that often afflict their lot—causing divisions with their families—and be kept safe out of harm’s way. And may their families here be patient, understanding, and always supportive of their endeavors. 

(M’s last Facebook status and tweet indicated she had already arrived at her destination—thank You, Lord. Unfortunately, no Globe roaming there...pity.) 

While our good-bye was distressing, I now eagerly look forward to M.’s stories about her new life in the Middle East, and her exciting adventures at work. 

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday, in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece was published on Nov. 30, 2012. Image from Kinetic Motion.)

This executive paints his stresses away

THESE days, you can almost never find a corporate executive who isn’t either into golf or marathons. Though considered sports or hobbies, these weekend activities invariably still end up being an opportunity for networking with their peers or targeted clients. 

So it was quite refreshing to discover that Alex Chan Lim, Philippine country manager of MoneyGram International, spends his weekends with his family teaching modern Chinese brush painting to a diverse group of students. 

In his private studio in Pasig on the recent Saturday I visited him, there were about seven students gathered, mostly merrily chatting away, some with their Chinese brushes still in hand, gently working these on rice paper to create art. 

(Alex Chan Lim, Philippines country manager of MoneyGram International demonstrates his Chinese brush painting techniques to participants and interested onlookers at a recent exhibit of the Chan Lim Family of Artists and students.)

There was no perspiring here, no racing heart rates, nor a push to perfection. It was just a cheerful, relaxed atmosphere as the students leisurely practiced their brush strokes. As with most Chinese brush paintings, the artwork invariably depicted are lightly tinted flowers, horses, bamboo, or lush landscapes in bold vibrant colors. 

It was a casually attired Lim who met me with a welcoming smile and warm handshake, and after our initial greetings, he led me around the room introducing some of his students. Among them was an ex-president of a bank, an airline official, and two smiling Korean ladies whom I was told later, hardly spoke English but just enjoyed coming to class. His family was also gathered around, including his wife Ester, who helps in teaching the students, their daughters Kaye and Kyra (the eldest Geoffrey wasn’t around), and his father Jose. 

Lim says throughout the different stages in his career, what has remained constant is his painting, which he has been doing since he was 11 years old. “It is during weekends I forget about work. [Painting] is my anti-stress.” 

Unlike most traditional Chinese families where the children are conscripted to work in the family business during weekends or long school breaks, Lim says his parents instead encouraged him and his siblings—Felix, Rolex and Jolex—to study Chinese painting during summer. His father, Jose, also paints although he does so using oils and is a painter more in the Western style. “I used to wonder why we had to do it; all my childhood friends [in Caloocan] were playing with their Lego sets. It was only later that we were thankful we studied it because no one really does Chinese paintings [anymore].”  

But he asserts that it never entered his mind to paint professionally. “Not at all. We really focused on painting during summers, and then we took up our college degrees which were non-painting related. It was quite a good match, it was a good partner. We were very happy. It was something that we wanted to do but not to earn a living.” (Like him, Lim’s brothers are also engineers and work for various multinational firms. They continue to paint to this day, and Felix even teaches Chinese brush painting part time at Stanford University.) 

(One of Mr. Chan Lim's works of art.)

Though his father wanted him to take over the family’s plastics business, Lim didn’t want to fearing that he and his three younger brothers would just fight over the company someday. After graduating with a mechanical engineering degree from the Mapua Institute of Technology in 1986, his parents grudgingly allowed him leave for the US to work and pursue a post-graduate degree. (With the success each sibling has reaped since then, he says his father “is now very happy” his sons made the right decision in their respective careers.) 

Lim came home in 1990 when his mother Rosa passed away, and has been based here since. He has worked in various “intensive” industries, making full use of his engineering background. He designed distribution centers for Levi Strauss Philippines, handling systems for DHL, and packaging for integrated circuits for Advantek. Later, at Ausenco, a mining services firm, he became a project manager—“a good learning experience” but, he says, it was “not my cup of tea,” understandably due to the inherent controversies in the industry. 

In April 2011 Lim made his first foray into the financial services world when he was appointed Philippine country manager for MoneyGram, the world’s second-largest global money-transfer company headquartered in Dallas, Texas. The next month, he set up the company’s very first office in Makati, in recognition of its burgeoning remittance business in the country. 

Under Lim’s helm, the business grew over 30 percent in 2011, which is no small feat considering that the entire remittance industry in the country only grew by 7 percent. This can only mean that MoneyGram has eaten into the market share of its main competitor. “We are happy with our volumes. The increase is too significant, I could never have imagined it!” With a new advertising campaign launched in March using actor Robin Padilla as a celebrity endorser, he says, the uptrend can only continue. “We’re still projecting a double-figure growth this year.” 

While it may not be immediately apparent, Lim’s creativity as a painter has actually enabled him to “think out of the box,” he says, in solving problems at work. Also, it has helped him in the marketing and advertising aspects of the job, enhancing his ability to judge whether a TV commercial being produced for the company’s brand awareness campaign is up to par with the company’s standards of excellence and good taste. 

There are also times when his work at MoneyGram fuses with his painting. Back in January, for instance, the company supported an on-the-spot Chinese lantern-painting contest at the SM Mall of Asia to celebrate the Chinese New Year. The winning entries were later exhibited along with those crafted by his own family members and students. 

The Chan Lim Family of Artists and Students were also in Davao City in October to exhibit their works and conducted workshops at SM City and Marco Polo Davao Hotel. Lim is ecstatic that a lot of institutions have recognized their group and regularly invite them for exhibits. 

He believes that anyone can do Chinese brush painting. “There’s no special talent or skill needed. One just needs the passion and the interest to learn.” 

(My column Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This profile on Alex Chan Lim was published on Nov. 23, 2012. Photos from Mr. Chan Lim's and the Chan Lim Family Facebook accounts.)

From tennis aficionado to bourse chief

WHEN Philippine Stock Exchange (PSE) President and CEO Hans B. Sicat was growing up, he recalls his siblings and himself being always riveted by the debates around the dining table, particularly those between his father, renowned Marcos-era economist Gerardo Sicat (whose groundbreaking 1980s textbook, "Economic", is still being used by many economics students today) and his equally accomplished mother, the late Loretta Makasiar, a political science professor. 

“It was very interesting to listen to these political discussions because my mom was a political science professor at University of the Philippines [UP], which is essentially leftist in outlook and anti-any administration. They would talk about—my dad’s a free market economist and my mother’s a political scientist, and she would say, ‘But that doesn’t redound to the benefit of the masses!’ Then at some point, my dad joined the [Marcos] administration,” Sicat, 52, recalls with a chuckle. 

“The irony, too, was that my maternal grandfather [Felix Makasiar] was a Chief Justice on the Supreme Court for a while before he retired. That made it doubly interesting, because there was a specific period when at least two people related to my mom were in the administration then. And she was an outspoken political scientist who thought capitalism wasn’t the answer,” he remembers, amused at the thought. 

The eldest of five siblings, Sicat says it was these discussions at the dining table, which became heated on occasion, that “helped define what we were, and what we [my siblings and I] were doing. At the beginning we had no clue, but as we got older, I began to think it made for a good foundation.” No doubt, it was his father who influenced Sicat’s foray into the world of economics while a student at UP, and, later, at the University of Philadelphia for his PhD. 

But Sicat confesses that he actually didn’t know what course to take in college, and was actually debating whether he should become an engineer or a medical doctor. To defer making a decision, he took math instead—which allowed him to play a lot of tennis. 

“Since we were young, I already liked to exercise a lot, play tennis, run or whatever. I was always trying to figure out what was the least amount of schoolwork I could do so I would have more court time. Oh, boy, the political science and the humanities [students], they’re always reading, so much reading! I would think back then, maybe if I go into physics or engineering or something like that, if I could get through the problem sets more quickly, then I would have more time to play!” he laughs. 

While Sicat may not have ended up at Wimbledon with all those exertions on the court, he did become an age-group tennis player, and was a member of UP’s varsity tennis team. 

“As it turns out, the training [in math] is also very good—not necessarily because of the specific knowledge that you take, but because it teaches you how to think of problems or issues. I think I have a decent balanced view,” he says. “I don’t know a lot of the answers but I think I can help figure out how to get to the answer. It puts a framework [on the way you solve problems].” 

Prior to his affiliation with the PSE (he also served as its chairman and independent director from 2009-2011, then had a first term as its president in January 2011), Sicat was an investment banker for over two decades, during which time he had helped sell “the predecessor” of the mortgage-backed asset securities, or what he jests, “the structured notes that blew up the world”. 

But he playfully distances himself from any global economic catastrophe by stressing that “when we were doing it in those days, the leverage was 2 to 1, the structure was much simpler - no one was pushing the envelope.” 

One of the more interesting deals he worked on while at Citicorp was the privatization of Segba, Argentina’s power utility in 1992, which he describes as a “complex situation” due to the massive amount of work put into discussions with the Argentine government and prospective buyers. 

At Salomon Smith Barney, Sicat helped launch the $1-billion 100-year global bond issue of the Philippine central bank in 1997 – only one of two other countries (China in 1996, and Mexico in 2010) to have done so. “That was the time we were doing 100-year bonds for Coca-Cola, Walt Disney, etc.” 

The tall and lanky Sicat has a daily exercise regimen where he runs and hits the gym every morning. “I feel funny if I don’t do it [exercise].” 

Sicat’s wife, Regina, is CEO of their family-owned LegisPro Corp., a legal-process outsourcing firm. They have three children—Kimberly Isabel, 19, a sophomore at Brown University; Katerina Mariel, 17; and Matthew Alexander, 16, Grade 12 and 10, respectively, at the International School Manila. 

If Sicat seems to have an extra spring in his step these days to go with his usually cheerful demeanor, you can bet that there are only good things happening in the stock market. 

Since 2010, the bourse has been coming along nicely, and was the best performing stock market in Asia, and third-best in the world in 2011. The PSE index (PSEi) closed at a new all-time high on Nov. 5, bucking the general decline across other markets in the region, which were focused on the leadership transition in China, Greece's debt struggles, and the US elections. 

The bourse kicked up 33.31 points to close at 5,457.82, or 0.61 percent higher from the previous close of Oct. 31. The Nov. 5 close was also up 1,085.86 points or 24.8 percent higher, year-to-date. The PSEi has broken through new record highs for a total of 24 times since the beginning of 2012. 

Sicat attributes the bourse’s exceptional performance to the country’s sound economy—with inflation benign and interest rates at their lowest levels—as well as strong corporate financials. 

With the renewed confidence in the market, he is quite optimistic that more companies will be raising their needed capital via the exchange. In 2011 the amount raised reached P107.5 billion—almost 27 percent higher than the previous year. For 2012, Sicat projects the amount to hit P197 billion, or almost double the amount raised in 2011.

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This profile of Hans B. Sicat was published on Nov. 16, 2012. Photo courtesy PSE)

Healers

THE nursing profession was one I never actually considered when I was mulling back then what career path to take. 

After all, I’d always seen nurses just as “assistants” to doctors, helping in carrying out the course of treatment for the patient, but never the actual “star” when you think about the healing profession. If ever, given my temperament and constant strive for superstardom (hala!), I would have loved to have been a doctor. (Of course, not being smart in science and math, as well as being usually impatient with most people, I would have made a very bad doctor.) 

But in the past few months that I’ve been in and out of hospitals on account of my mother’s illness, I’ve found a new and healthier respect for the nursing profession. Not that I ever disrespected nurses before. It’s just that at this point, after having dealt with them on a more extensive basis, I can only say to them, “Bow ako sa inyo.” It is a job with a special calling, much like the religious vocation. Many have applied to become one, but few actually pass to become efficient and caring professionals. 

In truth, nurses are not second-class citizens in the health-care sector, because without them, even the doctor’s world wouldn’t really revolve as smoothly as it’s supposed to be. Behind every successful doctor is a most efficient nurse. The nurses I’ve met at the Philippine Heart Center (PHC) and at the National Kidney and Transplant Institute (NKTI) are not only the most competent but they are the kindest as well! 

Each day that Mama was cooped up at the hospital, she just brightens up whenever her nurses would come in to check on her. I have never seen a more lively, happy, and sincere bunch!. I cannot fathom how they, despite being underpaid and undermanned on some days, or nights, can still smile, joke with their patients, go about their repetitive and routine business, and still perform at topnotch levels. (I’m sure they let off steam with one another when dealing with particularly difficult patients, but they have been trained very well not to let their personal issues get in the way of their job.) 

Someone like me who has been trained to smell BS from the people I interview, I could not detect any falsity or fakery in these nurses’ behavior or attitude toward Mama. They appeared very genuine in their concern for her—always making sure she was at ease or far from discomfort when they stuck a needle in her, or took her blood pressure, or did some other tests. Believe me, it isn’t easy to deal with a makulit old woman like my mother—as well as her attendant boisterous and equally makulit entourage (meaning us, her children and grandkids)—but these nurses just passed with flying colors each time. 

Some of them even went the extra mile just to make sure Mama was well cared for even when they were no longer on duty. J. for example, was supposed to have ended his shift already when Mama was about to undergo an important procedure in another building of the hospital complex. Instead of leaving her in the care of the rest of his colleagues, he helped wheel her bed to the surgery room, going on unpaid overtime just to ensure she would be alright. 

He and Mama had formed some sort of cute bond—J. who was openly gay, would always joke around with her using his gay lingo which helped ease her gloominess in being stuck in the hospital. He would carry on the banter especially when she would be putting on her lipstick or doing some other kikay ritual. (Okay, my mom is obviously vain. But I subscribe to her same belief that just because one is sick and in the hospital, you don’t have to look ill and pangit.) 

Then there was also this sweet girl L. who was always so super efficient—she would write down all instructions we should follow to continue our home care for Mama, and photocopied each and every test result for us, without having to be prodded. 

Similarly, L. went the extra mile for Mama, and went to bat for us when she found out that one of our doctors had charged us P10,000 for his professional fee when he only saw Mama twice. (Apparently she protested to the doctor’s secretary that he only came in once to see Mama, as per the nurses station’s entry.) I mean, how could we not love this nurse?! She was just mortified that the doctor could be so financially demanding. 

Privately, and away from the ears of these super-nurses, we as a family would often wonder what would happen if we were in some European country or some hicktown in the US where their citizens still dominated the local nursing profession? Yes, Mama would probably get the same standard of professional health care from those nurses, but what she definitely won’t receive is that extra cariño, that familiar Filipino concern for others. It’s that extra affinity or empathy from Filipino nurses toward their patients that make them of course such a hit abroad, that foreign hospitals just can’t hire enough of them. 

What’s sad about this episode though, is that I knew J. and L., as well as their other colleagues, would still make their way to hospitals abroad, as they search for a better life for their families who will be left behind. As we left the hospital, I told L. as she pushed Mama’s wheelchair to the car and helped her in the backseat, “Please wag ka na umalis. Kawawa naman kami ’pag lahat ng katulad mo mag-abroad.” 

L. didn’t respond. It was as if her fate was sealed. She would leave this aging government hospital, and go care for richer patients abroad. Those patients will be lucky to have such a fine young woman, who would give them expert care with an extra dose of genuine concern. How unfortunate for us though to lose her and many of her colleagues. 

But, my hats off to all you nurses. You may not be recognized as the stars in the hospitals you work for, but in my book, you are tops. Your healing touch is what makes every patient’s hospital confinement less miserable. I especially want to make a shoutout to those who took care of Mama at the PHC and NKTI...if you ever read this, you know who you are. Thank you for your warmth and special regard for her. You’re the best!

(My column Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece on the nursing profession was published on Sept. 28, 2012. Photo from InterAksyon.)

Courage

I WAS on my way to the sports clinic at the Ateneo de Manila University for my regular physical therapy on my pinched shoulder (rotator cuff issue—yes, I know, it’s taking an extraordinarily long time to heal) and told the cab driver where to go and the route to take. 

He said, “Ah, Ateneo...eskwelang pang-mayaman ’yan ano ho?” I answered, “Opo, manong.” Then he went, “Ang panganay ko sa UP [University of the Philippines]. Kaso tumaas na ang tuition. P1,000 per unit na.” 

(I always find chatting with cabbies an enervating learning experience. They are an indicator of the pulse of the masses, and makes more privileged people like myself aware of the conditions and times the rest of population live in.) 

I asked him if his child was still studying in UP, and he said no. Manong said his son got “kicked out” after failing a few classes. “Kasi tight-guarding ang girlfriend. Lagi na lang nasa bahay namin, kwentuhan lang sila ng kwentuhan, imbes na mag-aral.” I was amused. Manong certainly wasn’t shy about his feelings about his son’s relationship. 

Manong said he agreed to fund his son’s college tuition again on condition that the latter wouldn’t goof off anymore. “Sabi ko sa kanya, last chance na ’to. ’Di lang naman s’ya ang dapat makatapos...paano pa ’yung iba niyang kapatid,” the cabbie stressed, adding that he has five other kids. 

The son agreed to his father’s condition, and after looking for other universities he could enroll in, he finally settled on Polytechnic University of the Philippines. Manong was pleased that his son and his girlfriend had separated. His son actually finished his degree, this time in computer programming. Aside from his present job in a computer firm, Manong’s son teaches computer programming to college kids. 

Other than his eldest, two other children of Manong’s were able to finish college, largely through the income he makes from driving his cab. One child is now an electrical engineer, and Manong’s eldest daughter works in a call center. (The older kids now help out their father in paying for bills and other expenses with their monthly family contributions.) 

What Manong has accomplished is no mean feat. It takes a lot of courage for people like him to just continue working diligently, and keep pushing his kids to succeed—be it at their studies or in their respective careers. (His wife, Manong said, doesn’t work outside the home. When I pressed him on this, he insisted, “Aba, marami pong gawain sa bahay!”) 

I was to find out later that his wife also keeps a tight watch on the younger children, and Manong again proudly told me his son in Grade 6 has just taken the exam for Philippine Science High School—often referred to as “Pisay”) and Quezon City Science High School. “Sinugal ko na po at nagbayad ng P5,000 para sa review classes n’ya. Nung tinanong ko naman at kinumusta ang exam n’ya, sabi ng anak ko nadalian naman siya.”  

I told Manong that Pisay is an excellent school—I have quite a few friends who graduated from there, and most of them are successful in their career. I told Manong if his son passes the Pisay exam, he should allow his son to go there. “Ay oo, ma’am,” he was quick to interject, “libre po lahat doon. At saka may stipend pa binibigay sa mga bata daw.” 

Manong was especially proud of his youngest, now in Grade 4, who he says is the perennial candidate representing Quezon City to Science Quiz Bee contests. “Ang tatalino ng mga anak ko...lalo na ’yung bunso,” Manong said, the pride in his voice, evident. 

As we had already arrived at my destination, I was no longer able to ask Manong about his other child. But it was quite evident that he put a lot of priority on his kids’ education. He wanted nothing more than for his children to go to college and graduate with a degree. 

It was an extremely exceptional cab ride that day. On most days, my cab rides are insufferable as my ears are tortured by loud uncouth radio commentators the cabbies listen to, or schwang-schwang Inglisera radio jocks who ask the most inane questions of their guests. For a change, I had a real conversation with an amazing courageous man. 

Manong Driver didn’t complain about the cards that life had dealt him. He just played them. No government dole-outs for him...he just drives his cab, brings his passengers to their destination and deals with them honestly. Most of all, his entire existence is driven by the desire to give a better life for his kids. He was inspiring. 

*** 

Most people think that courage is best exemplified by a soldier going off to war to fight the enemy. 

But really, it takes on so many forms and manifests itself in many areas of our lives. 

The wife finally walks away from her 20-year marriage to an abusive husband. 

An employee leaves his comfortable cushy job, to set up his own business. 

A woman asks a man 20 years younger than her out on a date. 

A devoted daughter leaves the family home to stake her independence.

Despite his cramping calf, a basketball player joins his team to defeat their opponent. 

The courage to say, “I love you,” or “I’ve had enough of the insults from this boss,” or “I’m giving up sweets forever because of my diabetes”—these may be tiny examples but they are courageous acts nonetheless.

With courage, anything is possible.

(My column, Something like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece on 'Courage' was published on Nov. 2, 2012.)

When blood is thicker than water

Roland and his sister Christina, a breast cancer survivor. Photo courtesy icanserverfoundation.org

ONE of my favorite TV series has always been Brothers & Sisters. It’s been discontinued after five seasons but at the height of its popularity, it was always such a joy to watch episodes roll out week after week showing how the members of the large Walker family worked out their individual insecurities or celebrated their important life events with their siblings and their irrepressible mother Nora (Sally Field).

Of course, it was not a peaceful co-existence all the time—there were many huge disagreements among them, just like in ordinary families you and I belong to. But these were never too enormous to prevent an eventual reconciliation of hearts. (See “Brothers, sisters, children”, Dec. 29, 2007.)

Over the years, we’ve come across news items about how some siblings—usually scions of rich folk—battle it out in court in a bid to wrestle control over their late parents’ estate. Even some high-profile businessmen disinherit their own siblings over disputes stemming from very minor issues. Like there are two brothers I know, both successful businessmen, who have stopped speaking to each other because they quarreled over one’s sibling purchase of a car!!!

It’s a chilling reminder of how it is easy to forget the familial ties that bind when money becomes the focus of one’s existence. Also, there is too much ego and pride. The old folk always say that no matter how enormous the discord may be in one’s family, one must always strive to make peace. Blood is always thicker than water, and in the end, it is your relatives who will step up when you need help the most.

Yoga instructor Roland de la Cruz is one such fellow who had gone all out in supporting his sister Christina de la Cruz-Sablan when she really needed someone to count on at a most trying time in her life.

“My only sister Christina was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008. She was only 30 years old at the time. I distinctly remember sitting across from her when she was told of her exam results on the phone. We were in an office setting, so I wasn’t sure if I should stay strong or cry with her. In any case, she gathered all her belongings that day knowing that she had to act quickly especially in the interest of her then-six-year-old daughter Veronica,” says Roland.

Not too long after receiving the news, Christina flew to Los Angeles where she had a lumpectomy. The doctor advised her that she still needed chemotherapy and radiation. With Los Angeles being so far away from home in Guam, the family chose to complete her treatment protocol in Manila. Being closer to the island, where her other siblings and parents are based, Manila made traveling for the family easier.

“I was with Christina during her first round of chemotherapy. I saw the toll it took on her body and the pain she had to endure. I recall calling my mom in Guam that day, crying and telling her that I wasn’t sure I could do it. Watching someone you love so much slowly deteriorate in order to heal was heart-wrenching, and the constant fear of losing her to this dreaded disease was a dark cloud that hovered in the horizon. It was as painful for the loved ones as it was for the one enduring and trying to survive the ordeal,” he recalls.

Today, Christina is in remission and continues to work in the airline industry. Her daughter is now 11 years old.

“Roland and I grew up very close, and you could say he is a protective brother who always made sure I was okay,” Christina writes in an e-mail. “After being diagnosed with cancer, this was proven all the more as he ensured that I got the best medical care along with all the family support needed. Opting to do my treatments in the Philippines, my brother went far and beyond by allowing me to stay in his Makati condo. I distinctly remember the day I left home—I was so depressed and scared. But when I arrived at the condo, Roland had furnished the place with family photos so that it felt like home, and to remind me to stay strong. To this day, whenever I return to Manila for follow-up appointments, Roland always welcomes me at his place, and assists me with whatever I need.”

There is a mantra often recited in the practice of yoga, “Lokah Samastha Sukinoh Bhavantu,” which means, “May all beings be happy and free, may they be free of pain and suffering.” That is what Roland wishes for all breast-cancer survivors like his sister.

“Going through that life trial, Christina was instrumental in me further discovering that raw and vulnerable side which I believe has made me a more effective yoga teacher to my students. I was able to draw the strength to do those poses not just from my muscles but from the inner well of truth inside me, a place where our spirit and mortal body are so intertwined that it is beyond understanding, just acceptance.”

A full-time yoga instructor, Roland put up Bliss Yoga (www.blissyogamanila.com) in Makati with partner Glenn Biscoe in 2009. He was introduced to Hatha Yoga in 2001 at a time when he says “I found myself at a real crossroads in my life.”

He trained under Baron Baptiste of the Baron Baptiste Power Yoga Institute in Tulum, Mexico, before opening his own yoga studio in his home island of Guam. He subsequently trained under Power Yoga founder Bryan Kest and Bhakti Urban Flow founder Rusty Wells.

Because of his experience with his sister, Roland has decided to take a 50-day break from teaching yoga to raise funds for breast cancer charities.

Roland is funding the trip out of his own pocket and hopes people will support his beneficiaries, ICanServe Foundation in the Philippines and the National Breast Cancer Foundation (NBCF) in the US. Supporters can donate directly to the said organizations.

ICanServe Foundation teaches barangay health workers how to do proper clinical breast examinations to aid in the early detection of the disease.

Women 30 years and older are advised to undergo an annual clinical breast exam conducted by a physician or other trained health worker. In the Philippines where diagnostic equipment such as mammography machines are available only in urban centers, clinical breast exams are an important way for underserved communities to check for breast cancer.

Texas-based NBCF, meanwhile, provides mammograms to those who cannot afford it in the US.

On September 17, Roland will begin his journey in the Philippines, going to Japan, the US, Central America, Central and Eastern Europe, the Mediterranean, India, and Asia, before making his way back to Manila. He intends to visit historical landmarks, traveling with no more than the bag on his back, a yoga mat and a camera.

The historical landmarks he will be visiting are Intramuros in Manila; Kiyomizu Temple, Kyoto, Japan; Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico; Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C.; Ground Zero in New York; Stonehenge, Wiltshire, England; Eiffel Tower, Paris; Jungfrau, Switzerland; Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy; The Colosseum/Vatican City, Rome, Italy; Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy; Ann Frank’s House, Amsterdam, The Netherlands; The Berlin Wall, Berlin, Germany; Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum, Krakow, Poland; Acropolis, Athens, Greece; Dead Sea, Israel; Petra, Jordan; Taj Mahal, Agra, India; Forbidden City/Great Wall of China, Beijing, China; Ngong Ping 360, Hong Kong; Wat Pho, Bangkok, Thailand; Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia; and Tanah Lot Temple, Bali, Indonesia.

“Through this journey, which I dedicate to my sister and to all women stricken with this disease, I pray they find the courage and strength to overcome this obstacle in their lives, and ultimately be free of all the pain and suffering. Fifty days seems like a short time to cover so much but this journey is meant to be my seva [selfless service],” says Roland.

(Serious yoga practitioners will often do seva, or “service for others” with no thought of recognition or reward. For instance, you can volunteer your services or donate your funds to benefit a cause, with no expectation of a specific result. Seva removes the ego’s attachment for results. Whatever service is rendered will be to help uplift the community.)

Let’s follow Roland’s journey through www.myglobalmandala.com. Better yet, if we believe in his cause, let’s donate to his chosen charities.

As they say at the close of each yoga practice, namaste. The divine in me recognizes the divine in you. Touch me, touch others, and let peace and love flow.

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. This piece was originally published on Sept. 7, 2012. Photo courtesy icanserve foundation.)