IT WAS NOT the easiest year. We can agree on that.
And interestingly enough, it was not quite the personal that got almost all of us Filipinos feeling hopeless and betrayed—it was the collective injustice being done to us, a nation that has already been through so much.
During the second-to-the-last session of the year of our weekly online meditation group, what we call our Stillness Sanctuary, the gloom was so palpable in the air, like the weight of a shared chain we wore around our necks. It bore down on the soul and left many of us sad and angry at how the people, who were supposed to lead our country, chose instead to rob it blind. The worst part, of course, was seeing the poorest people in society suffer the most—children pushing carts on the street, indigent cancer survivors lining up for hours in badly maintained public hospitals, families in Cebu losing loved ones and seeing whatever little they had washed away by floods because somebody was allowed to ravage the mountains.
Even as I write this, the latest big piece of news is the mysterious death of a former undersecretary in that cesspool of graft and corruption, the Department of Public Works and Highways, just after she was summoned to testify before the Independent Commission on Infrastructure. In other words, she had been asked to tell what she knew—and obviously, that didn’t sit well with some people. Just saying.
In the Philippines—apologies for the abrupt segue—animal welfare advocates are still reeling from the murder (because that’s what it was) of Axle, an innocent dog, that was caught on video, when he was violently beaten to death by Erwin Faguinney (yes, he has been named in a filed case), an actual employee of the local government of Sadanga in the Mountain Province. So much for having responsible people in government; we haven’t heard a peep from either Faguinney or the mayor of Sadanga, even as the police in the Mountain Province, led by the OIC of the Police Provincial Office, Col. Marcelo Polig, have been publicly and commendably pursuing the case.
Globally, people are in shock after the first shooting in Australia with double-digit casualties since the Port Arthur, Tasmania massacre of 1996, which claimed 35 lives. There was the 393rd shooting in the United States (we’re losing track) at Brown University, noted by the American president with, well, “these things happen.” But Donald Trump outdid himself soon after when Hollywood actor, director, and producer Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle were killed allegedly by their drug-addled son, noting how Reiner was suffering from “Trump Derangement Syndrome,” and insinuated that the outspoken Trump critic brought his death upon himself. As Pinoy titas like to say, I kennat.
Why so much evil? We throw our hands up in despair. At least, I wanted to, many times in 2025.
Finding hope felt like a losing battle for much of the year, and it takes a lot of taking stock—and pausing—to look back on the good stuff. But we have to do it; we have no choice if we are to move into 2026 in one piece.
And yes, there has been good. I have had many blessings, opportunities, and reasons to be grateful, even in the smallest things, buried under all the crap—I found myself whispering, “Thank you, Lord!” many, many times. And not just because of global milestones, like renewable energy finally overtaking coal, and sharks and rays officially being declared protected species globally by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature.
I have had many blessings, opportunities, and reasons to be grateful, even in the smallest things, buried under all the crap—I found myself whispering, ‘Thank you, Lord!’ many, many times
I missed visiting my cardiologist and obstetrician-gynecologist this year because I was preoccupied with a new illness, a genetic mutation in my bone marrow that was a gift from chemotherapy, hah. In a nutshell, if I didn’t get treated—how does getting half a liter of blood extracted every week sound?—I was vulnerable to strokes, and more alarming, the aneurysms that have taken the lives of my father, brother, and some uncles. Talk about a silver lining—I discovered the worrying blood stats while I was being treated for dengue fever in February! No, I felt nothing, but I guess that’s why it could have been a close call, as some of my doctor friends have said; imagine keeling over, without quite knowing why.
I’m happy to report that as of this December, my numbers have normalized, although I will be on meds for life, and all I can tell you is: Be vigilant with your health, especially if you’re a senior with a history like me.
Still managing yoga, despite aching bones, in a workshop in Singapore
Speaking of seniorhood, in my 61st year, my bones have also begun breaking down (again, thanks, chemo). One doctor told me I could be a candidate for a hip replacement in about five years. That really depressed me for a while, because it meant saying goodbye to many things I had taken for granted.
I’ve retired from teaching yoga, although I still practice it; I just have to be so much gentler, and use modifications for certain poses. I’m glad our long-time teacher understood, reminding me that we are, after all, “perishable.” That helped me cope with the FOMO I felt watching younger people do what used to come easy. Humility can bring grace, after all. My goal now is to leave the earth with all my original parts, even if I can’t walk as briskly anymore, and climbing stairs is something to avoid now. (Tip: A pair of Hokas is this senior’s best friend.)
Why, hello there: Yes, that’s a tiger shark—Fuvamulah, Maldives, 2025 (Photo by Gabriel Wang)
This might truly be the year my scuba-diving friends and I get T-shirts made that say, “Carpe f—king diem,” as we have long planned. I’m blessed to still be able to share this passion with a gang more or less in the same age bracket, so putting on the heavy gear while seated on the edge of the boat, or preparing to jump with boatmen holding both your hands like you were some kind of beauty queen, has been the norm. This year, a bucket list item was checked: diving with a tiger shark two feet from my face, in the Maldives—a core life experience. When you’re underwater, there’s very little demand on your bones, really, but when the time comes that diving becomes too difficult—well, I hope to be dead before then!
A family milestone in Canada, at my nephew Josh’s (on my shoulder, at left) wedding
In Banff, Calgary with childhood friend Gigi
Afternoon tea in Vancouver with bestie Natasha
This year, I also had the opportunity to revisit the past and put my stake in the future. I showed up for my nephew’s wedding in far-off Halifax, Nova Scotia, and was delighted to see my late brother’s three sons, now all grown men, with families of their own. On the same trip, I visited childhood friend Gigi (and her adorable dogs) in 8-degree winter weather, and said hello to dear long-time bestie Natasha before heading home; it’s not yet wishful thinking that Natasha and I may visit Lourdes and eat our way through San Sebastian later this year, before we get too old to lug our suitcases.
My oldest baby Kiko turns 10 in 2026—talk about anticipatory grief!
Carpe diem, indeed. Flip the crisis. Be thankful for whatever blessing you have that, sadly, others may not. For me, it was like this: Discover a health issue while dealing with another, and possibly save your life. Be kinder to your aging joints, and discover more forgiving paths, because you must keep moving your butt (qi gong, anyone?). Unceremoniously lose your part-time job with a company you worked your ass off for—was that 20-odd years?—but find yourself more available for other projects, thank God. Accept that you’ll never swim with whales in Antarctica, but remember that there are warmer waters closer to home. Incur big vet bills, but revel in the love and joy when you cuddle your four furbabies—priceless, as the ad says.
Also, as older, wiser members of our meditation group shared, we may not be able to individually save the world, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fill our own periphery with much-needed kindness and good. “We can’t do what the Savior does,” someone said. “But we can do what the Savior wants us to do.”
So, despite everything this world throws at us—and it threw quite a bit at me in 2025—the bravest, most valiant of acts is to keep hoping, even if it’s a tempered kind of hope. We hand biscuits to kids on the street. We send small donations to priests doing good in the mountains of Bukidnon, or among the elderly in Taytay. We support animal welfare groups saving as many creatures as they can through shelters or spay-and-neuter campaigns. And yes, we grab every chance to live our passion while there’s time, do what makes us happy, and embrace those we love, as well.
We give thanks and hope and don’t stop, because Jesus is coming this Christmas—and that’s enough reason to hope.
