Second Trip to Boracay

The last time that I was in Boracay was in 2015, exactly nine years ago. From then on, I have been longing to be back in this world-class island paradise. I have missed the powdery white sand, the cool waters and the picturesque sunset.

For three days, we stayed at the posh Savoy Hotel which is located at the Boracay New Coast, a newly-established planned unit development at the mid part and other side of the island. There I with my company was able to explore and enjoy the place which is dotted by new hotels, events venues, shops, and beautiful gardens. We strolled a lot even reaching the topmost part of the island, some secluded beach resorts and the Cuho Rock Formation at the edge of the island.

We swam on our last day just by the sunset. I frolicked like a child in the waters and in the sand. We took a lot of photos until sun down. We also bought some pasalubong items at the shops. We also enjoyed singing and dancing on a bar.

It has been a very memorable travel. I felt I was in the dreamland.

Pinonayan Festival

Sometime in 2004, our parish priest called our attention to the Ati-Atihan Festival in our town. He challenged us to create a unique and distinct festival for Lavezares, noting that the Ati-Atihan we had celebrated for more than two decades was merely adapted from Aklan.

Together with two cultural workers in our town, we decided to meet and conceptualize a new festival for Lavezares. Even before the meeting, I already had a concept and a name in mind. My ideas were guided by a seminar-workshop on festival management conducted by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA). From that seminar, it became clear to me that a festival must be deeply rooted in the culture and history of the town to be truly unique and meaningful.

When we met, I presented my proposal to name the festival Pinonayan, the old name of Lavezares. I explained that it would highlight the livelihoods and industries of our people from the different barangays. Since it would be celebrated during the Feast of the Santo Niño, it was fitting that the dance presentations be offered as a prayer of thanksgiving for the bountiful harvests and abundant blessings from God. In essence, the Pinonayan Festival would be a dance of praise to the Santo Niño for the overflowing harvests and blessings bestowed upon the people of Lavezares.

I was delighted when my idea was warmly received by the two cultural workers. One of them volunteered to prepare the festival mechanics and asked me to translate them into English. A few days later, I presented the concept to our parish priest, and he immediately gave his approval.

In January 2005, we staged the first Pinonayan Festival. I handled the program and led the management team. The festival was funded with ₱50,000 from the Local Government Unit. From then on, we have successfully organized the festival every year. This year, we celebrate its 26th edition.

All of these, I can only attribute to Señor Santo Niño, the true focal point of the celebration.

BE THE SALT, BE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD

Matthew 5:13-16 - You are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his flavor, with which shall it be salted? it is thereafter good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it gives light to all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

All of us have a purpose in life. Each of us was designed and sent by God into this world to fulfill a specific mission. We are not here by accident or for nothing. Hence, the most fundamental question we must ask ourselves is: Who am I?

It takes time—sometimes even a lifetime—of experiences, challenges, and deep reflection to truly understand who we are and the purpose for which we were created. This question accompanies us throughout our years on this planet because we perform many roles in society: in our families, among our friends, within our social circles, in our workplaces, in the Church, and in our communities. These roles change over time, shaped by the needs of the moment and the seasons of our lives.

God created us for a specific purpose in His time. It is this purpose that determines whether we become good salt that gives flavor, or salt that is bland and loses its worth.

Like salt mixed in water, do we bring goodness to the people around us? Do we add flavor to their lives, or do they experience us as something that poisons rather than nourishes their souls?

Are we allowing God to shape us into a flavorful presence for others?

Through prayer and deep reflection on God’s Word, He can transform our presence into one that radiates love, kindness, generosity, and gentleness. In doing so, those within our spheres of influence may also be transformed, becoming Christ-like presences themselves.

As we strive to become the salt of the world, may we also allow the light of God to penetrate our very being. May that light shatter our egos, our pride, and our selfish ambitions; may it enlighten our minds and souls; may it erase our worries and fears; may it illuminate our daily paths. So that, as bearers of God’s light, our lives may dispel the evils and darkness around us. Not our own light, but the light of God shining through us.

What a wonderful world it would be, if that were so.

A Little Tour of a Dreamer

After 28 years, I was given the chance to visit once again the Santo Niño Shrine of Tacloban City, also known as the Romualdez Museum. The first time I set foot there was in 1998, when I attended the Media Cultural Workshop hosted by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) in partnership with the National Book Development Board (NBDB). I was part of the delegation of The Pillar, the official student publication of the University of Eastern Philippines, where I served as a member of the editorial board. At that time, I was a third-year college student.

Our visit to the Santo Niño Shrine was part of the seminar, meant to help us appreciate local arts and history. Earlier that day, we had also toured the San Juanico Bridge. The NCCA and NBDB officers were truly amazed by the experience, especially since it was their first time to visit the area—most of them being from Manila.

During that first visit to the shrine, I was astounded by the mansion’s opulence. It was the first time in my life that I had ever set foot in a palatial home. Our guide ushered us through its many rooms and vast halls, each reflecting a blend of Filipino, Asian, and European design. The furniture and fixtures were impressive, crafted either locally or imported from abroad. The President and the First Lady each had their own rooms—so enormous that our modest home could have fit inside them several times over. Each member of the family also had a private room. The first family truly lived like royalty, with rooms, halls, and staircases seemingly designed for a royal household.

The guest rooms were especially striking, each with distinctive motifs showcasing artworks and handicrafts from Ifugao, Tacloban, Bicol, Mindanao, and other regions. I vividly remember several art pieces from Guiuan, Samar, most notably a fountain made of seashells and coral stones. Even after all these years, I can still recall the details as if it were only yesterday.

On my second visit, 28 years later, I felt the same sense of awe and wonder. Time, however, had left its mark—the interior had visibly aged. Still, the façade remained impressively unchanged, standing as grand as ever.

After my recent visit, I sat on a bench a few meters away from the mansion and found myself overcome with reflection and nostalgia. My thoughts drifted back to 1994, when I first came to Tacloban as a high school delegate to the Regional Schools Press Conference held at Leyte National High School. I was only 15 years old then, brimming with youthful idealism and ambition. That experience was followed by similar trips in 1995 and 1998. Today, I have lost count of how many times I have returned to this city.

As I sat there at the age of 46, all I could do was heave a quiet sigh for the years that had passed. My age had changed. Life had changed. In that moment, I realized how God had blessed me throughout the years—how He carried me through every struggle and allowed me to survive them all. I first came here at 15 with nothing but dreams. Today, I return at 46 with many of those dreams fulfilled, still weaving new ones—this time not so much for myself, but for my loved ones and for the people I hope to serve.