Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.
Thursday, February 20, 2003
I will not say anything bad about our retreat, except Caleruega still sets the standard.
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Our room is whitewashed white. The mattress looks insect-infested. The bathroom heater is not working. The cabinet is too small to hold our clothing. A real five-star accommodation.
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Okay, am not here to complain. I’m here to find my soul, my spirituality, my God. But I just wished they had sockets for my hair blower.
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Feel claustrophobic here.
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Ghost stories at night! At the rooftop, under the stars. Wonderful, just wonderful.
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Am watching three of my classmates and another guy from communication arts play basketball. I’m impressed how boys easily get together through the language of sports.
I’ll stay and cheer them on until everybody gets a point.
At the rate they’re going, I’ll be here for a long, long while.
***
In the group sharing, Gabby asked me to pray for him. Big mistake! I was not in the mood of sharing anything. Afterwards, I just felt so guilty, as if somehow I’ve disappointed him even if he never said anything.
I couldn’t bring to open myself up to a bunch of people, no matter how wonderful they are. I couldn’t share to them what I pray for him (every time I remember to pray that is).
Next time, I’ll bring a kodigo.
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I like religious songs. They’re so beautiful, peaceful, and inspiring.
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We were asked to write a letter to God. I had no idea what to tell Him. So, I took my Ethics book out thinking that maybe I could do my assignment and be productive. But at my peripheral, I saw the retreat mistress hovering behind me.
Just for the show, I laid a coupon bond and held my pen, and wrote “Dear God”.
I did not expect that once I started I couldn’t stop.
Now, here’s the corny part, I didn’t know how weary I was with everything until I felt tears dropping one after the other. And it just felt so good. No matter what I wrote, it felt like a heavy load was taken from me.
Each word that I wrote that night spelled some revelations about myself that I had been too scared to admit. To use a cliché, I’ve been unmasked. But instead of feeling violated, I felt so relieved.
Never read the book, but I guess this is what they call the “unbearable lightness of being”.
***
As expected, I bonded with my other classmates. I’ve learned a lot of things from them. I only hope that we all graduate. And we all find a job afterwards.
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