Unconditional

Unconditional. adj. not conditional or limited; absolute, unqualified – surrender

I love giving things, even those that I really, really like. But I guess that’s what unconditional means. You give, even if it hurts. You learn to let go, even with the sting in your heart. That’s unconditional.

I love hats. I do not buy them often and I do not wear them as often but I have quite a few. There is this really nice hat that I so loved. As soon as I got home after I bought it, I wore it, even as I was only doing chores around the house. Never mind that Lita was laughing at me whenever she saw me with that hat on. I liked it so much that I wore it until I had to remove it that evening before going to bed.

A few weeks ago, I gave it away to a friend. She really did not ask for it. We were going to the beach and so we figured we should wear hats. I handed her this new hat to wear. She was hesitant to take it as she and hats were not really on friendly terms. She has never met a hat that agreed with her, until this one. She tried it on and it looked wonderful on her. Seeing the glow in her smile and the satisfaction in her face at finally finding a hat that “fit” her, I told her it’s hers. There was this little pain in my heart because I loved it, too, but I have other hats. This is the one hat that she liked. I figured it best for her to have it. It felt good because I gave something I really, really liked without expecting anything in return. That was unconditional.

Years ago, I had this really nice blazer. I loved it because I looked good in it. Everyone knew it was my favorite blazer. One day at my friend’s house, her mother whom I also loved, hinted that she liked the blazer. To everyone’s surprise (including myself), I took the blazer off and gave it to her. My friend’s mouth dropped as I handed it to her mother and helped her into it. There was this gnawing, faint pain inside me as I was doing that but still, I felt good in giving it away. It was just a thing. The happiness on that old lady’s face was priceless. That was unconditional.

On Thanksgiving and on Christmas Day last year, Lita and I cooked some chicken soup, prepared some sandwiches, filled containers with the soup and scanned the San Fernando Valley to find homeless people and gave them this one meal. This one homeless man we found in the bus stop asked if he could kiss us to thank us. We said yes and he gently gave us a kiss on the cheek each. We both cried after we left him. That was unconditional.

I am not a model for generosity. ( I just had a little bit more practice of it.) I have my share of selfishness. There are things and people I stupidly cling on to. It is human nature to want things, to “possess” friends, family, lovers and hold on to them firmly, not wanting to let go, scared that if we loosen our grip, they would slip away.

We impose conditions. If I love you, you MUST love me back. If you live under my roof, you MUST follow everything I say. If I give you this, you MUST give me that. We prefer even exchange. We attach many “ifs” – many conditions. In most situations, our question is “what’s in it for me?”

But we all have moments when we are able to overpower that selfishness with compassion; our self-absorption with empathy and love for a fellow human being. We surprise ourselves when it happens, but they do happen and we have to seize the moment when it does. If we allow ourselves to be generous and to give unconditionally or love unconditionally often enough, then we learn to let go and loosen our grip on the “ifs”. Because when we get there, we realize that the joy is beyond words, the moment takes our breath away and the satisfaction is exhilarating.

That is unconditional.

What's In an EMAIL Name?

I teach a Confirmation class to high school kids at St. Genevieve Church. I give homeworks and ask them to email the homeworks to me. While it is enlightening to read what goes on in the minds of 15 to 18 year-old kids, I get a kick out of the email names some of them use. It made me think about asking you folks to share with me some of the funniest, weirdest, most extra-ordinary email names you've ever come across, not just from kids, but from adults also. Let us have fun as we compare notes.

Here are some of those that caught me:

pancit-nanaman ( pancit is Filipino version of chow-mein and "na naman" literally translates as "again." I really had a good laugh with this one!)
christactoe
demmitkaren (This is my own niece - she used to use malakingpwet - tagalog for "bigbutt")
chenteloco ( loco is loco)
twizt06
thebunso ("bunso" is the youngest sibling in the family)

What have you got?

True Friendships

My posting "Enduring Friendships" made my friend Mel think of our own relationship. I would like to quote her here:

" I really love the scent of spices. I could picture it clearly, feel like I am there myself. I guess, I just prefer stories with the points short and direct. I look forward to reading your entries always. Makes me know more about details in your life. Makes me also realize that I hardly know anything about you anymore. Which is probably why Enduring Friendships made me a bit sad. Not in terms of the story of your friend because it is a success story, but taken more in the light of our own friendship. Distance does not really do much for relationships right? No matter if you connect by mail or e-mail. There is nothing as binding as experiencing things together. You have lived your life over there with a new set of firm friends, and mine or ours went on here. All we have is a connecting link called "getting in touch somehow" which really is such a fragile connection. It does not really convey the entire gamut of stuff that goes with friendships. Just felt that with life going on in utterly opposite directions, would that still mean friendship? Or are we just being stubbornly loyal to the idea that once we were friends? Or is it, once friends, friends forever regardless of time or distance?"

It makes you think, doesn't it? How many people are we missing out on? How many friendships have fallen by the wayside because of one reason or another? How many experiences we could have shared were not shared beause we got lazy or we forgot or we stopped caring or any other lame reason? How many times have simple and stupid misunderstandings prevented us from sharing something funny, or sad or poignant -- the very essence of friendship?

Much of what remember with our friends are the SHARED EXPERIENCES. Whether it is in person, texted, IM'd, emailed, or phoned, it is the sharing that really matters. Through it, we take our friends with us and allow them view the same experience through our eyes.

Now I understand better why my mother loved the letters I wrote for her daily when I first travelled to Canada. She saw and experienced Canada through me and with me.

I emailed Mel back and I am sharing with you my reply:

"Thanks for reading my blogs and thank you for pointing out something very important. The once or twice a year letter or email does not really suffice or compensate for the physical absence, indeed. I missed out on your company as well, and Agie’s and Mattie’s, and Ernie’s, yes and even what’s his name, ah, Conrad Bilbao.

We were these young and idealistic writers and artist who at a given point in our lives had the opportunity to establish bonds. I know in my heart how much I value all the time we spent together – sharing our personal and professional lives, helping and challenging each other.

I still miss our creative sessions where we write or talk about simple stuff and see what comes out. I miss the coffees after work or the few nights we went out dancing. It’s funny that I could not bring myself to writing about CFA yet, as that is the next chapter in my life. It could be because deep in my heart, I mourn the missed links.

We were not ONCE friends, Mel. We ARE. The love and affection will always be there."

And the sharing will continue through my blogs....

MEN ANGELS

Three men were my angels today. Yes, I know, men have been bashed enough that to think of them as angels is almost hard to reconcile. But they do exist - men angels (I am taking a literary license here). I met three today.

I arrived at 6:30 this morning at the federal building downtown for a 7:15 appointment. I saw the lights in the patrol car of the Homeland Security but did not really pay much attention to it. I parked my car, walked to the building and looked for the line where I should go. The line wasn’t moving. An officer told us that an unknown package was found in the back of the building so there was a delay. They told us to wait by the sidewalk.

There, I stood next to this middle-aged man who looked like the late King Hussein of Jordan. He was just a few inches taller than me, spoke with no accent, had salt and pepper mustache and goatee, was wearing blue jeans and chambray shirt. He had a blackberry on a holster and regular cell phone in his pocket. He had this cheerful smile and easy demeanor. We looked at each other and shrugged and eventually ended up talking. We talked about the seeming paranoia about unidentified packages, politics, economics, technology and just about any other topic we could think of. Every so often, he would make phone calls or answer a page. We knew we would be delayed and he had to adjust his meetings and tell his people what to do. That’s how I knew his name was Jack.

The officers told us to go to the other side of the street and we walked together. He was this perfect gentleman. He led the way and gently held my hand as we crossed the street and continued to talk while walking. He must have noticed I was limping a little, that’s why. A couple of people joined our conversation about the loss of productivity that day as they emptied the whole building and had everyone stay at least a street away.

Jack and I counted the number of people who were there ahead of us and approximated the time it will take to have our transactions done. After over an hour of standing up, my knee pain crept on me and I told him I have to go and maybe go back to my car and wait there.

I left Jack but after seeing that there was no way for me to get back to my car as the cops blocked the sidewalk, I decided to go to the coffee shop, have some coffee and sit down.

After about half an hour, I saw that people were moving back into the federal building. I stayed on and sat a little bit longer and when I saw that the crowd was already thin, I got up and went back as well.

Jack also had a 7:15 appointment and as we analyzed earlier, we should be okay as they would surely go by the proper time chronology. Most of the people crowded in lines, but I did not. I saw Jack, he was not in line either. We stood next to each other and just waited for the officer to call out our time and sure enough, in less than five minutes, 7:15 appointments were called. Jack walked next to me and held the door for me as we entered the building. I left him as I went through the metal detector and he caught up with me in the waiting area.

As we sat down we smiled and let go of a sigh or relief, both happy that we only lost an hour and a half, and wished each other the best. He gently tapped my shoulder and as my number was called, I thanked him for helping me maintain my (in)sanity for the past hour and a half. We did not ask for each other’s name nor exchanged business cards. We did not need to. He was a stranger who at that moment was my angel. That was all that mattered. My first angel.

My transaction did not go well. My papers somehow ended up in another state and I was advised to write a letter of inquiry. Sixteen months after submitting the papers and following up, my papers have fallen through the cracks. I wanted to bang my head on the wall, except it would probably hurt so I did not.

I was so frustrated and I wanted so much to either hurt someone or cry. Hurting someone was tempting, but they may actually hit me back so that wasn’t such a great idea after all. I got back to the office and told my boss, Miles, about my rotten morning, I told him I will need a few minutes alone to cry, as I was really ready to burst. He said for me to take my time and if I wanted to, to take the day off. I told him no as I will still think about work even if I went home, so I’d rather stay.

I went back to my office, closed my door and let it out. I must admit it felt good to cry, although having such a thin wall, I could not bawl as I would have preferred to. After about half an hour, Miles knocked softly on my door (which no longer squeaks) and asked if there is anything he could do, with this look of concern in his face. He again asked if I wanted to go home. I assured him it’s going to be fine and that no, it’s not at all work related. He let me be. What a great guy – my second angel.

I somehow muddled through the rest of the morning, and actually had a productive time. One of the girls asked if I wanted to join them for lunch as some of the folks are talking about going out. I told her I didn’t feel like socializing. Actually, I needed a fix of a protein style double-double at In N Out Burger.

So I went, ordered my # 1 protein style with extra grilled onions and waited. As I stood next to the benches, this old guy in suspenders stood up and offered me his space. I was really touched as both my knees were hurting now from the morning fiasco. I sat down and the guy next to me had his order called out so I motioned the old man to the space next to me. He sat down and as we waited, we got to talking too.

I commented on how all In N Out burgers are always busy and how nice it would be to own a franchise. The old man said it is family owned and no franchise is sold. They even have a burger school where they train all In N Out employees on what to do. He said they get paid $9 an hour so it’s not a bad gig for a kid.

Then we talked about motorcycles with sidecars, gasoline prices and a lot of other current events. That was a nice wait. It made lunch more pleasant, even as I ate alone later on. Somehow, my double-double was juicier and the fries, perfect. My third angel.

One never knows when he or she will play an angel to someone. But we all do, at some point in our lives. Many people cross our path everyday. We probably don’t give it a lot of thought because to many, kindness and civility come naturally. And even maybe, we get as much as we give.

I know three men’s kindness helped me carry on with my day. I may not see the other two again, but I will always thank them in my heart.

My three men angels.


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