Pardon me if I wax a bit personal today, as I turn 70, much to my great surprise, coming from a generation that didn’t expect to live past 25. I’ve often noted that in your 20s, you seek purpose and direction; in your 30s, stability in terms of love, family and work; in your 40s, professional success and serious money; in your 50s, acclaim and reputation; and in your 60s, good health and comfort. Now, on the threshold of my 70s, I find myself accepting and preparing for the inevitable, the average life expectancy of the Filipino male now hovering at 72.
More significantly, my wife Beng and I are also celebrating our 50th anniversary. I’ve never quite resolved if it was a good idea to get married on my birthday – and just my 20th at that – but there was never any doubt that marrying Beng was the smartest decision I ever made, and that waking up beside her every Jan. 15 is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.
But I’ll spare you the love story, which, like all good love stories, has had its fragile moments. For now, let me share some lessons and insights I’ve learned from surviving the First Quarter Storm, martial law, EDSA, GMA, Ondoy, Yolanda, tokhang and, for the moment, BBM. They’re by no means complete, and I still have a lot of learning to do in what I hope to be at least another decade of avoiding the lyres up there (or the pitchforks down there). But they’ll serve for now, hopefully to encourage newlyweds and young ones to hang on for the long and bumpy but also often exhilarating ride.
First, survival matters. Fifty years ago, my comrades and I were all prepared to give up our lives for our cause, but today I’ll have to ask, “Must I?” Heroic self-sacrifice is symbolically important and can inspire others to take personal risks for the greater good, but a genuine and strategic movement for change cannot consist solely of martyrs willing to die in combat; its core must be formed of patient plodders willing and able to undertake the mundane tasks and chores of nation-building within their families and communities. For that one will need to co-exist with evil, if need be, if only to survive it and be able to do better. Co-existence does not necessarily mean surrender or acceptance, merely an affirmation of one’s right to live as well as anybody else. Resistance can take many forms, not all of them fatal; we need to be clever and resourceful in championing the truth, which is often starkly simple and clear but sometimes also just as complicated as the well-fashioned lie.
Second, tolerance and cooperation are key to every successful relationship, whether it be a marriage or co-existence in a deeply fractured society. But also key to this idea is self-knowledge, which builds self-confidence and a greater willingness to understand and accept the other, and to educate oneself. Many early marriages falter because the protagonists are simply too young, too vulnerable and still struggling to define themselves. Growing up on one’s own is difficult enough; growing up together is even more challenging, but necessary. I was 20 when I became a husband, and later that year, a father, and didn’t really know how to be either. Thankfully Beng and I had good role models in our own parents, and enough love to work things out and see things through. Eventually, we learned to define ourselves in terms of the other – so that today, for me, no trip is worth taking without Beng, and her joys and successes are mine as well. Forgiving oneself and accepting one’s imperfections are not only as important as acknowledging the other’s, but are prerequisites to mutual self-improvement.
Third, “compromise” is not a bad word, if we are to survive as a nation together and as individual citizens. In our 20s – much surer of our convictions than of our own squishy selves – we viewed the world in black and white, certain that the enemy was out there, was not us or within us and had to be rejected and battled in all arenas, on all levels. I’ve since learned that life can’t be lived on an all-or-nothing, take-it-or-leave-it basis, and that one has to negotiate with oneself as well as with others to keep whole and sane. An absolutist will never find peace, nor satisfaction, and likely never happiness. Learning to take things as they are – and working from there – can be harder than to merely insist on things as they should be, and to do nothing when they are not. Just as important as highlighting our differences are finding and building on the things we can agree upon – like resistance to foreign encroachment on our territory, which helps clarify our self-image – regardless, though still mindful, of our suspicions of the other’s motives. Opportunistic politics can sometimes be the inadvertent handmaiden of good outcomes.
Fourth, I’ve learned my limitations, and to do my best within my foreshortened horizon. I’ve realized that I can be happy in not trying to do too much, living in the moment and finding fulfillment in small achievements that bring change and hope to other people. I haven’t given up my dreams for a more just, progressive and provident society, and will continue to fight for those ideals, but I will choose activities and means that will lead to something I can see and hold (and that others can repeat, improve upon and grow for the future). Big ideas are great, but small deeds can be just as valuable. I want to make a difference in someone’s life today.
And finally, there is an afterlife. I frankly don’t know if there’s a heaven or a hell as the colorful posters in my grade-school religion class depicted them, but what I’m sure of from having attended countless funerals is that an important part of that afterlife and of its very proof is the life of those you will leave behind. When you die, others live on; they’ll talk about and even shed tears for you for a few days, and then they’ll move on to more pressing matters like tax amnesties and next Tuesday’s price of gas. Now and then your name will come up over morning coffee or a late-night beer, and the smile, the laugh, the sigh, the wince or the cuss word that your memory will provoke will say everything about who you were and what your life was all about. I’ll be happy with a smile – maybe a bit regretful, but mostly pleased to have crossed paths with and even to have learned something from me. Mabuhay!
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Email me at jose@dalisay.ph and visit my blog at www.penmanila.ph.