More Than You Take Lyrics

A single voice

Is joined by multitudes in song,
With every verse,
They’re finding harmonies that rise to Heaven sure and strong.

Richer and richer the soil on which they thrive,
Higher and higher a hymn of what it means to be alive

Chorus:

You’ve got to give a little more than you take,
You’ve got to leave a little more than was here,
You maybe prideful of the strides you will make,
But keep one thing clear,
You’re just a player in a much bigger plan,
And still you have to give it all that you can,
The very measure of your soul is at stake,
You’ve got to give a little more than you take,

The seasons fly
A man stands where a boy once stood,
His path unfolds,
And unafraid he walks in service of a greater good,
Deeper and deeper the lessons he has known,
Over and over the message he is surely being shown

Repeat Chorus

The very measure of your soul is at stake,

You’ve got to give a little more than you take.

Balut for a despedida

You are in a certain country and it was time for you to leave. However, the local people you became close with told you to eat a food you never tasted and probably you never seen in your whole damn life, what will you do? Will you be challenged? Will you turn them down and apologize? Whatever reasons you have, it is your own choice. As I always hear people saying, it is your life anyway. .. :)

It is in the history of the foundation I work with to let foreign volunteers eat one of the Filipino foods, either upon arrival as a form of "baptism" or before they leave the country. Most of them think balut as one of the wackiest and yuckiest (so kadiri) ever foods we have here. Few of them are BCBG like super duper maarte and will not even dare to try. Most of them tried and later on some begun to like it. I’ve known some whom I really can not imagine to eat a balut but really dared  try it.

Like this one:


opening the balut..


pointing at the "chick"

"attend" ..look!

go go go!!!! watch me first!

there's no balut prepared here..

Going down the city

I am thinking of what to write but I have no particular subject this time. I would just like to write what comes into my mind. Perhaps, it’s because of a lot of reasoning powers which are flooding into my mind. These play a significant event in my life that multiplies to my existence. Whoaaaaaa!!!!

Another year is again added to my mortal presence to this world full of august and wicked facts occupying the globe. I realized how these realities transformed my life and never expected to happen. When I first arrived in the city, I was so idealistic and I wanted everything to be organized. Everything that I saw MUST and SHOULD be in accordance to what I know. This caused me say words which makes me sorry now. I became judgmental because of my idealism.

Culture shock gave a very big impact in my years of stay in the city. I see how people treat other people and how these people do their best to defeat the demands of the way of life in the city. I meet people who are well-off hypocrites and in contrast to these, I came to know people who are so damn down to earth. The level of life paradoxically turns out to be sometimes fair and unfair.

I may have spent my formative years in the mountains but I will never trade this to any place even if it’s more beautiful or whatsoever. It is not the beauty that lies here. it is the experience, the culture, the tradition and most importantly the principles that the mountains taught and instilled in me. These may not be perfect but these guide me to whatever path I walk in.

Living in the city for almost a decade now taught me how to go through the struggles and challenges that life pours to this race-may it be natural or human factor. I get blissful spirit, become frustrated, become tired and develop boredom that attracts laziness but I learn; thus, makes me tougher to face this gigantic world.

I couldn’t help myself to think of the possibility of what or who I am had I stayed in the outlying areas. Will I have the same characteristic and personality? Maybe yes and maybe no. As they say in French, “je suis pas” or I don’t know. My instinct tells me no, I wouldn’t have the same. My parents are there always looking for my welfare whereas I’m here managing my own self. They molded be to be one anyway.

Funny for I try to gather these thoughts yet nothing is accomplished. Chuwan!!!

A Sad Encounter

“**** **A! Ang laking bahay pero walang pagkain!” relayed by a Nanay referring to a lady who once stayed in the foundation. This was the complaint statement of that lady she murmured as she looked up the house.

Here came the Nanay who heard what she said. “Eh wala na talaga kasi naubos na.” The lady turned her back and went straight to the door. It was about 2 in the afternoon, naturally there was no more food even left over.

Living in the street influenced her manners and way of foreseeing life. She’s one of the first recipients of the foundation. I believe she must have stayed in one of the homes, therefore, she was treated with care, pampered by the house parents and was given the basic needs a human deserves.

I wonder why after all those things given to her, she still treats the staff like that-at least behind the staff. However, even if the person is not looking, she must have considered that they were still the people who took care of her when she was younger. Her manners surely affected the people who reared her.

Recently, I saw her in the main office while her male friend awaited her outside the main lobby. She seemed not the lady I knew and last seen in the centre before. She was wearing a loose, almost torn, big size, dirty, stained brown t-shirt and a very short dark pants. Her hair was thick with dirt and her skin became darker especially her face which was whiter the last time I saw her. She became thinner. I was so surprised with her transformation.

She recognized me while I was intently looking at her. I noticed she was barefooted. “Ate, nandito ka pa rin?” she called. She is actually 2-3 years older than me but she used to address me like that. I smiled and went near her. “Oo, nandito pa rin ako. Ikaw? Hindi na kita nakita sa ** Centre nung huling dalaw ko dun,”

“Kasi umalis na ako do’n.”

“Bakit naman?” I asked. She stood beside me, shrugged her shoulders and answered “Ayaw ko na do’n.”
I smelled something familiar but could not remember what it was. I tried to recall. It was like the glue I always used on my project when I was in high school. It was an adhesive solvent popularly known as rugby.

My gosh! She was high on that and she was in the office. She approached one of the program heads seated on the couch behind the information desk. While I was going down the stairs, I heard the PH irritated voice while talking to her. She must have smelled the solvent as well.

As I went down, I saw a man lying on the floor while his left hand with a blue plastic bag was on his nose. I suspected he was sniffing a solvent and I was alarmed because there were some children coming inside. He didn’t know how to hide what he had in his hand when he saw me looking at him.