The Road to Serenity

Patience, as we were taught in Sunday School, is a [cardinal] virtue--in the same neighborhood as justice, prudence, fortitude, hope, faith, and charity. And as such, it necessarily intimates a certain extent of moral excellence or goodness or righteousness. Individuals possessing this virtue have nothing but serenity, a sense of calm and tranquility.

Patience, however, like all virtues, is like a commodity or belonging--we usually start with an abundance of it, but it is likewise prone to being exhausted or squandered if we do not conserve or nurture it. It is likewise similar to a fuse wherein a certain level or strength of force can trigger certain buttons.

Just how much patience does one need to live by? Until how much can a person try and understand, condone and forgive a wrongdoer who repeatedly errs, violates or misbehaves? Up to which point can one take the blows and consequently decide to throw in the towel and summarily quit? Like commodities, is there some sort of inventory of its availability, wherein one can re-stock a cupboard or pantry when it goes dangerously low? Like supplies that are requisite stocks in a ration, how low can you go?

I remember growing up being taught by mother--whether directly/consciously or indirectly/subconsciously--the very virtue of patience. Although we were never exactly impoverished, my family was never rich financially. We had three (sometimes more) meals a day, a good roof above our heads, and decent clothing...but never those fancy cars or brand-name/haute coutre clothing or leisurely trips to Europe or extravagant parties or top-of-the-line gadgets and the likes. We were raised to work hard for the money [insert Donna Summer song here..hehehehe]...er, for whatever we have our eyes and hearts set on. We were taught that nothing was served on a silver platter--or at least not to us--and that everything comes with a price that is not necessarily with a peso or dollar (or whatever currency) sign...and such price can only be attained or paid for by hard work and industry. I grew up wearing hand-me-downs from more well-off cousins in the United States, and to be able to buy my own brand-new clothes (or toys or whathaveyous), I needed to work for it by, say, bringing packed lunch to school instead of eat at restaurants in order to save money; or work part-time at a Jollibee branch in Morayta one summer in order to sustain myself for the entire summer in Manila.

What came as a by-product of that kind of hard work was an inner patience that not only made me (and I am confidently assuming, my sister as well) patient in terms of financial struggles, but also in terms of patience with other people's shortcomings or even downright meanness. Ask my highschool and college friends to describe the state of my patience and they will, in chorus, say that it takes a lot to make me mad or lose my temper. Even a couple of years ago--right when I was at the height of my yoga frenzy--a whole room could be in strife or everybody around me could be at each other's throats, but I would still have my calm, focused and laid-back composure intact.

Up until a year or so ago, I think my fuse got worn out. Years of forgiveness, shrugging off misfortunes, bitterly looking the other way, and on-end "It's OK's", I think I snapped. My Anger Management sessions with life coach Carlos Aguilar, Jr., to date, ranks as the sterling example of such realization about the current state of my patience. I have been bombarded with a deluge of setbacks and disappointments (dare I say "catastrophes"??) in the last year or so. Had quite a string of rejections (overseas job posts, gigs at hosting or commercials and print, with prospective "promising" dates, etc.), loss, ailments, problems and heartaches...all of which did not seem to promise a better day. There were moments when it felt as if, while in this dark tunnel, the only light glimmering at the end of the tunnel were actually the headlights of an oncoming ten-wheeler truck that was about to hit me head-on. It had been one failure after the other...and no amount of crying in one corner of the church or imploring with God or endless repetitions of the Serenity Prayers could appease my grieving heart.

I was at my lowest of low when I caught a certain scene from the Steve Carrell-Morgan Freeman movie Evan Almighty. While it wasn't all that laugh-out-loud, a moment in the movie will stay with me forever. It was a truly defining moment that anyone in my--or even worse--state of mind and emotions could use. In a scene at a restaurant, where Freeman (a.k.a. God) was disguised as a wait staff who can anticipate your order or heart's desire (go figure), he asks Evan's wife: "Do you think that God gives us patience when we pray for it, or does he give us opportunities to be patient? And when we ask for courage, does he give us courage or give us opportunities to be courageous?" BAM! I felt as though my heart thudded in the wrong rib, and all of a sudden stopped beating, made me momentarily catch a huge helping of my breath...and started welling up in my eyes and uncontrollably sobbed and sniffed and heaved alternatingly. I knew right away: yes, these are all tests. These roadblocks are merely opportunities to make me exercise, practice, and nurture some more my patience. For what is patience worth if everything was in accord with what's perfect? Or, as I have customarily placed as my auto-signature in my Gmail account: "You will never appreciate the light until you've experienced the darkness" How could I have missed that?

At this crossroad in my life, I hold on to that Evan Almightly scene, as I repetitively hum India.Arie's song "This, Too, Shall Pass". God-willing, I will pass His test with flying colors.