Intentional Will

 

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Hamok na plano.

There are those who begin the year by contemplating new resolutions, some hope to lose weight, others plan to start a healthier diet, and many aspire to be kinder in 2026. Yet too often, these promises remain mere words, spoken with good intentions but never carried into action.

Take, for example, people who aim to be kinder because they recognize times they may have hurt others. Some traits are deeply rooted and difficult to change, while others may not even be fully noticed, small, impulsive reactions and habits that sometimes emerge unexpectedly during interactions, showing the more challenging sides of one’s character.

Changing long-standing habits is often more complex than simply declaring a new intention. As Duhigg (2012) explains, behaviors are shaped by deeply embedded habit loops that require conscious effort and sustained practice to transform. Similarly, Goleman (1995) emphasizes that emotional patterns, especially those formed over years, often resurface in moments of stress or conflict, making genuine behavioral change challenging. Together, these readings highlight why resolutions rooted only in words rarely lead to lasting transformation.

But then again, there is the matter of will, what some call the intelligent will. When a person recognizes their flaws and consciously chooses to work on them, change becomes possible. It requires sustained effort and constant self-awareness, but over time, the old tendencies can gradually lose their hold. In their place emerges a new, learned disposition, one shaped with intention and aligned with what is good and life-giving.

The capacity for personal transformation is grounded not only in self-awareness but also in this intentional or intelligent will. When individuals acknowledge their maladaptive tendencies and commit to modifying them, they activate a deliberate process of behavioral change.

Research on habit formation and self-regulation supports this, suggesting that such change requires sustained effort, consistent reflection, and the repeated practice of alternative responses (Duhigg, 2012; Goleman, 1995). Over time, these intentional actions can weaken ingrained patterns and foster the development of new, prosocial traits that better align with one’s desired identity and contribute to the greater good.

Only then can a renewed version of oneself truly emerge, one shaped by intention rather than impulse, and such transformation is not confined to the turning of a new year.

Ultimately, real change comes not from yearly resolutions but from the daily choice to confront our flaws with honesty and to reshape our habits with intention. When we commit to this steady inner work, transformation becomes possible, quiet, enduring, and not bound by the turning of a new year.

Devoid of the Spirit

 

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Kinahanglan mahamok hasta mabibo.

Materialism inevitably surfaces during the Christmas season, as seen when teachers express concern over delayed salaries and benefits, claiming they cannot prepare meaningful activities for their class celebrations. This reflects how holiday expectations, particularly the need to provide food, gifts, or tokens, have become intertwined with a sense of adequacy and responsibility, revealing a socially reinforced material pressure that extends even into professional spaces.

The emphasis on food, gifts, branded items, and elaborate gatherings illustrates a form of relational materialism, where goods serve as symbols of affection, gratitude, or social responsibility rather than personal luxury. In a society where pamasko, aguinaldo, and gift exchanges are embedded in tradition, material giving functions as a mechanism for maintaining social ties and avoiding hiya (shame) or perceptions of inadequacy.

Scholars note that Filipino holiday practices blend cultural obligation with consumption-based expectations. Pertierra (2002) and Rafael (1993) observe that Filipino social life is deeply shaped by utang na loob, pakikisama, and the moral economy of giving, which often manifest in material expressions during communal events. These practices reveal that gift-giving is not merely transactional but an essential part of sustaining relationships and social identity.

Yet while material pressures grow, the spiritual essence of Christmas often recedes into the background. At its core, Christmas is a profoundly religious celebration, inviting believers into quiet reflection on the mystery of the Incarnation, how God became flesh and embraced humility by being born in a manger. The hymn Silent Night, Holy Night reinforces this contemplative dimension, reminding us that the true meaning of the season lies in stillness, reverence, and the simplicity of the nativity story rather than in noise or excess.

At the same time, commercialization shapes expectations. Retailers and product-driven industries craft marketing strategies designed to entice consumption, defining what a “proper” Christmas should look like. These campaigns often leave many feeling stressed or inadequate when they cannot purchase cakes, lechon, ham, or other holiday staples. In effect, the pressure to consume has subtly replaced the simplicity of celebration, turning what should be a meaningful tradition into a source of anxiety.

This societal pressure may also explain why feelings of depression tend to intensify during the season. Ready-made “templates” of merriment, abundance, fulfillment, and constant cheer, contrast sharply with personal realities, leaving individuals with a painful sense of inadequacy or isolation. The pressure to perform happiness, rather than experience it authentically, becomes an emotional strain that overshadows the season’s genuine significance.

To counter this, we must reclaim the power to define happiness on our own terms. True joy cannot flourish when we are burdened by debt simply to meet society’s prescribed standards of celebration. Contentment emerges not from external conformity but from embracing simplicity, authenticity, and the values that genuinely nourish well-being.

Ultimately, Christmas should awaken the heart, not empty the pocket. True celebration lies in love, presence, and gratitude, not in the weight of material expectation.

Don't Speak

 

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Gusi  ak brep hasta bolog ak relo!

“Hindi ka naka-Rolex, hindiI ka naka-Gucci, ako pa pinili mo?”

This was the shouted retort of former COMELEC Commissioner Atty. Rowena Guanzon in a viral video reportedly showing her arguing with an alleged Chinese national inside a mall in Makati. According to Atty. Guanzon, the altercation escalated when the individual allegedly told her to leave, implying she might be contagious and pose a risk to others. Feeling publicly humiliated, she reportedly filed charges against both the person involved and the uploader of the video. While she has remained firm in defending her position, little has been heard from the perspective of the individual she confronted.

In everyday life, people sometimes feel compelled to call out behavior they perceive as inappropriate or unlawful in public spaces. For example, one might remind someone smoking inside a terminal or gymnasium that such acts are prohibited by law and harmful to others through secondhand smoke. When confronted, a calm response such as, “Who is being harmed or complained against here?” can help balance asserting public norms with avoiding personal conflict.

This writer does not take issue with Atty. Guanzon’s reaction; however, the reference to luxury brands raises questions. Does mentioning such markers imply that only those with wealth or luxury items have the right to call out perceived misconduct? Or was it merely a rhetorical expression, not intended to suggest whose opinions carry weight in public discourse?

In a democratic society, freedom of expression is a fundamental right that must be respected, as it enables civic engagement and open discourse (Dahl, 1998; Mill, 2003). Yet exercising this freedom invites reflection on intent, was the confrontation driven by malice, or by genuine concern for public order? Social psychology research suggests that perceived public humiliation can trigger strong emotional reactions, including anger or defensiveness, as individuals seek to protect their self-worth and social identity (Lazarus, 1991; Tangney & Dearing, 2002). Such reactions are often human responses to perceived threats to dignity rather than misconduct.

What may trouble onlookers is the implied message that one must be wealthy or possess luxury items to feel entitled to call out behavior perceived as inappropriate or harmful to the greater good. This incident reminds us that while freedom of expression is essential, moments of perceived humiliation can quickly turn honest concern into an emotional response.

 

No To Apathy

 

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Hawoy na usahay maniid.

Calloused. This is the feeling of a person who is constantly bombarded with negative experiences until they begin to grow numb, no longer reacting to what comes next.

In Psychology, this is often linked to emotional desensitization, a state where repeated exposure to stress, pain, or criticism gradually dulls a person’s emotional responses, making them feel detached or indifferent over time.

With the political turmoil, the exposes, the scandals, the conflicting statements from public figures, the propaganda, the lies used to mask failures in leadership, and the misuse of public funds, all these factors have pushed the common Filipino toward emotional desensitization. People learn to numb themselves simply to cope, because taking in everything at once can feel overwhelming and potentially lead to emotional or mental breakdown.

Research shows that when people are continuously confronted with chaos, corruption, and public misconduct, they may gradually numb their reactions to preserve psychological balance (American Psychological Association, 2023; Funk, 2020). While this coping mechanism helps individuals in the short term, scholars warn that prolonged desensitization can reduce civic engagement and weaken a community’s ability to collectively respond to social issues.

Perhaps this, too, is a political strategy, to overwhelm the public with a constant stream of confusing and scandalous issues until people retreat into their own protective shells. Could it be a deliberate move by self-serving individuals to numb the emotions of the populace, slowly pushing them into a zombie-like silence? When citizens grow exhausted and desensitized, holding leaders accountable becomes even harder, and apathy becomes an unintended refuge.

Studies on democratic fatigue further warn that sustained exposure to political scandals can heighten apathy and reduce trust, leading individuals to retreat into silence as a means of coping (Boulianne, 2020). These findings support the idea that constant scandal and confusion can desensitize the public over time.

Still, we must not fall silent when our democratic processes are threatened. We are called to raise our voices, on every platform available, to affirm the courage that remains in our hearts, even when we find ourselves standing against those driven by self-interest. In moments when others attempt to suppress or confuse us, speaking out becomes not only an act of resistance, but also a reminder that democracy survives only when its people refuse to be muted.

Ultimately, our greatest defense against chaos and manipulation is a people who refuse to surrender their voice, their clarity, and their courage.

On A Budget

 

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Pan hasta pansit da an mapalit!

Over 100 Noche Buena items have retained their prices, yet the DTI recently expressed confidence that a ₱500 budget would be enough.

Many netizens reacted strongly, noting that the claim borders on the unrealistic, if not outright amusing. Even a kilogram of pork now costs around ₱350, an amount already insufficient for a family of five.

Some have asked, Is this whitewashing? In public discourse, whitewashing refers to downplaying or concealing uncomfortable truths to present a situation more favorably than it truly is. From this perspective, the DTI’s pronouncement appears less like a candid assessment of economic realities and more like an attempt to sanitize the everyday struggles faced by ordinary families. Such statements deepen public skepticism toward official narratives that seem increasingly detached from lived experiences.

This skepticism extends beyond perception. The 2024 Philippine Trust Study, conducted by the EON Group with Ateneo de Manila University, found that Filipinos trust leaders and institutions they perceive as competent, consistent, and transparent, not those offering oversimplified assurances (Flores, 2024).

Filipinos value honesty and realism in governance. Government agencies must communicate challenges clearly rather than romanticize market conditions, especially when goods remain largely unaffordable. A simple grocery trip for laundry and kitchen essentials already shows that ₱500 falls short. The gap widens during Noche Buena, when families hope to enjoy special food.

Ultimately, addressing the realities of everyday Filipino life requires leaders to acknowledge the true costs of living. Oversimplified assurances may be well-intentioned, but they ring hollow for those struggling to make ends meet, further eroding trust in institutions that are meant to serve them.

Unclear

 

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Di ta isahay kasabot sa mga taningog ni Auntie!

Online discussions about Undersecretary Claire Castro reveal a recurring theme: many make light of her, some question her credibility, and others call her the President’s watchdog.

Tensions recently flared between Castro and Prof. Malou Tiquia during the PDP–Laban Kapihan forum, following heated exchanges online and in interviews. The conflict began when Castro labeled Tiquia a “propagandist” over her comments on the President’s alleged “incapacity.” Tiquia fired back, criticizing Castro’s communication style and emphasizing that Palace officials must uphold clear standards in tone, data presentation, and handling criticism.

Tiquia also stressed that officials representing the Palace should maintain proper decorum, noting that such standards appear lacking in Castro’s public behavior. She described the undersecretary as “palengkera,” arguing that anyone speaking for a respected institution must display consistent professionalism.

In press briefings, journalists have pressed Castro on her tendency to speak as if representing the President directly. Ivan Mayrina of GMA News asked whether her statements reflected the President’s views or her own, while Katrina “Kat” Domingo of ABS-CBN stressed that taxpayers deserve clear and unambiguous answers.

Research shows that the credibility of government spokespeople strongly affects public trust. Officials who communicate professionally, clearly, and transparently are seen as more credible, while poor communication or speaking beyond one’s mandate undermines trust in both the messenger and the institution (Lyu et al., 2013; Abdel Amir, 2023; Cucciniello et al., 2017; Jamal & Abu Bakar, 2021).

Observers suggest Castro could benefit from taking feedback seriously. Combative responses risk further damaging the reputation of the office she represents. Prioritizing evidence-based communication and building constructive relationships with reporters can help restore credibility and public confidence.

Ultimately, how a Palace spokesperson communicates shapes public perception of both the individual and the institution. Clear, professional, and evidence-based engagement with the press is key to maintaining trust and safeguarding the office’s reputation.

Pandora's Bag

 

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An brown na bag ni Mana Sitang.

There’s a friend of mine who feels off-balance whenever he walks or attends an event without a bag. For him, it’s more than an accessory, it’s a personal anchor that helps him move with confidence.

I understand that feeling. My bag carries the essentials I rely on daily: phone, wallet, face powder, disinfectant, wet tissues, and maintenance medicine. Without it, I feel incomplete, as if a vital part of my routine is missing. But some bags carry weight far beyond the personal.

Former lawmaker Elizaldy Co recently admitted to inserting around P100 billion into government projects, claiming he acted under the direction of President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. and former House Speaker Martin Romualdez (Flores, 2025). In a meeting at Malacañang, Co said Executive Secretary Lucas Bersamin handed him a list of projects worth P100 billion inside a “brown leather bag,” a bag that reminded him of a similar one he saw with Marcos and Romualdez at the Hilton Hotel in Singapore after the 2022 elections.

So, what’s with the brown leather bag? Could it hold the key to the Philippines’ ongoing struggles with corruption and botched flood control projects? Might it be a modern-day Pandora’s box, capable of unleashing truths that shake the nation to its core?

History shows that leaders’ careers can collapse once secrets are exposed. Richard Nixon resigned after the Watergate scandal (Kutler, 1990; Woodward & Bernstein, 2005). Brazil’s Dilma Rousseff and South Korea’s Park Geun-hye also fell from power after misconduct surfaced (Power & Taylor, 2011; Kim, 2018). Exposure matters, and so does accountability.

The nation’s outrage over disastrous flood projects, tainted by corruption, cannot be ignored. Left unresolved, it risks resistance, even civil unrest. Beyond revelations, concrete action is needed to restore trust and enforce responsibility.

If the brown leather bag contains the truth, it must be opened. Only then can those who neglected their duties be held accountable. Only then can the nation move toward reform.

Yes, bags can make us uneasy when out of reach. Like my friend, and myself, I carry mine everywhere because it keeps me grounded, prepared, and comfortable. But unlike our personal bags, the brown leather bag at the center of this controversy may carry consequences far beyond the everyday. Its unveiling could finally provide the clarity the nation desperately needs.

The future of transparency and trust may well hinge on what lies inside that brown leather bag.

Overflowing Greed

 

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Hilabian na!

Are we living in the apocalyptic era? It often feels that way. Natural calamities strike with alarming frequency, as though nature itself has grown weary of our excesses. “Resilience” has become a poetic illusion, a word we use to romanticize suffering. Meanwhile, politics decay under corruption and deceit, making one wonder: is this the beginning of the end, or merely the end of our beginning?

In October 2025, the Philippines was struck by a series of strong earthquakes and destructive typhoons that caused severe flooding and displacement. A 7.4-magnitude quake hit Davao Oriental, followed by a 6.8 aftershock, while Cebu was jolted by a 6.9 tremor. The Southwest Monsoon, intensified by typhoons Crising, Dante, and Emong, worsened the devastation, leaving thousands struggling to recover.

On November 3, 2025, Typhoon Tino ravaged Cebu with fierce winds and heavy rain, claiming over 130 lives and displacing 33,000 families. Around 1.4 million households across the Visayas lost electricity, and entire communities were left in darkness as floodwaters swallowed homes and roads.

Many remain traumatized, enduring the pain of displacement and loss, while corrupt officials live in comfort, proof of a system that feeds on greed. Their suffering reflects a nation divided by privilege and injustice.

Could these disasters be the universe’s wake-up call? Nature’s chaos mirrors the imbalance we have created through greed and exploitation. As people deplete resources and prize profit over harmony, the earth retaliates, reminding us that balance is not an ideal but a necessity. Perhaps it is time to listen, to be humble, and to restore our connection with the world we share.

Studies affirm that human greed fuels this imbalance. Wiedmann et al. (2020) linked affluence and overconsumption to ecological destruction, while Nelissen (2022) found that abundance often breeds irresponsibility. These crises, then, are not natural accidents—they are reflections of human excess and loss of harmony with the earth.

How can we resist these corrupting excesses? How do we end the cycle that exploits both people and planet? Most importantly, how can the greedy awaken to the destruction they cause, not just to others, but to their own humanity?

True change begins within. It requires honest reflection on how our choices and habits affect the world around us. Through mindfulness, compassion, and responsibility, we can begin to heal the damage wrought by indifference and greed. Real progress starts when we choose to change ourselves.

In the end, the earth’s cry is not for vengeance but awakening. Disasters mirror our excesses, urging us to reclaim lost harmony. Change begins when we choose awareness over apathy, humility over greed, and compassion over control. To heal the world, we must first heal the human spirit.

Let this be a warning to all driven by greed: when public funds are stolen and the land is stripped for profit, nature eventually retaliates. The floods, landslides, and storms are not mere accidents—they are the earth’s reckoning, a reminder that corruption and exploitation always invite their own destruction.

When Thoughts Become Reality

 

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Eksakto pirme. Lisod sinudloan.

There is a saying that goes: our thoughts shape our feelings, our feelings influence our actions, and our actions create our realities. The quality of what we reap, therefore, begins with the quality of our thoughts. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “A man is what he thinks about all day long,” reminding us that every reality begins first in the mind.

According to Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret, the universe responds to the frequency of our thoughts through the Law of Attraction. Whatever we consistently think and feel, we draw toward ourselves. Life, therefore, mirrors the energy we emit. When we focus on gratitude, love, and possibility, we attract circumstances that resonate with those emotions. In mastering our thoughts, we harness the universe’s power to turn intention into reality.

It takes great discipline to train the mind to lean toward the positive, for the way our brains have been conditioned from childhood to adulthood plays a significant role. Many are shaped by the attitudes of their parents and the environments that surround them. When one grows up amid constant criticism and negativity, the mind becomes attuned to fault-finding. The world, then, appears bleak, and the eyes naturally seek out what is wrong rather than what is good.

Many advocates of self-awareness recommend a journaling exercise in which one freely writes down their thoughts and later engages in reflection and evaluation. Through this process, the individual begins to map the terrain of their own mind, recognizing recurring patterns, fears, and aspirations. In seeing their thoughts laid bare, they gain clarity; and from that clarity arises the opportunity for renewal and inner growth.

Yet this journey requires both courage and discernment. When a person drifts toward self-righteousness, genuine transformation becomes difficult, for pride often guards the comfort of one’s familiar self. Many resort to self-preservation, clinging to who they have always been rather than who they might become. True change demands effort, humility, and sacrifice, and not everyone is willing or ready to take that path.

According to Dweck (2016), a fixed mindset limits personal growth by anchoring individuals to their comfort zones, where validation outweighs self-improvement. Moreover, Mezirow’s (1997) theory of transformative learning emphasizes that genuine change begins with critical self-reflection, a willingness to question long-held assumptions and embrace discomfort as part of growth. Thus, cultivating humility and openness becomes essential, for without them, the journey toward authentic transformation remains unattainable.

Then again, we cannot control the actions of others, for true change must come from within. Often, feedback, no matter how well-intentioned, is perceived through the lens of pride or insecurity, leading some to dismiss it as judgment from self-proclaimed perfectionists or the self-righteous. Such defenses, though comforting, harden the heart and dull the mind, closing off the very opportunities that could lead to growth and renewal.

You see, it takes time, and a measure of wisdom, to slow down and truly absorb things, rather than react impulsively to everything we see and hear.

In the end, the journey toward transformation is an inward pilgrimage: one that demands honesty, humility, and patience. Our thoughts form the blueprint of our reality, yet it is through awareness and self-reflection that we begin to reshape them. Change does not come from resisting others or defending our faults but from the quiet courage to face ourselves.

For in mastering our inner world, we do not just transform our lives, we illuminate the path for others to do the same.

Inherited and Learned Rudeness

 

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Yay eksakto na pamatasan!

A friend once recounted how a certain couple raised their child to mirror their own unkindness. Once prominent figures in their circle, they were often the subject of hushed whispers about their discourteous behavior. In the end, even those who knew them best could only agree with one enduring truth: you cannot buy class.

Manners are integral in daily encounters. They are the subtle expressions of respect and consideration that shape how we move within the shared spaces of society. More than gestures of politeness, manners reflect the depth of one’s upbringing and awareness of others. They bridge differences, soften conflicts, and nurture an atmosphere of civility in an increasingly impatient world.

Yet with the growing influence and complexities introduced by technology and media, people now engage in a multitude of behaviors, many of which stray from the greater good. Even professionals, who are expected to uphold discernment and integrity, sometimes distort definitions to suit their own perspectives, insisting on their version of what is right. Such tendencies often trace back to one’s upbringing, patterns of thought and conduct learned early on, now manifested and defended as truth.

Scholars have also observed this moral shift in the digital age. As Turkle (2016) asserts, constant connectivity has fostered a culture of self-validation rather than self-reflection, weakening empathy and ethical awareness. Similarly, Postman (2005) warned that media-saturated societies risk prioritizing entertainment over moral reasoning. These shifts reveal that manners and ethics, once rooted in upbringing and social norms, are now increasingly mediated by algorithms and online approval, challenging the very idea of what is “good” or “correct.”

The way we eat, the way we converse and truly listen without being absorbed by our phones, the way we respond to online comments, and even the way we present ourselves, all these mirror our manners. These behaviors are learned and gradually woven into our daily actions, silently revealing who we are. Yet what is more unsettling is the thought that others may emulate these behaviors, believing them to be right simply because they are commonly practiced. In this sense, manners are not only personal reflections but also social influences, shaping how others learn to define what is acceptable and good.

Some people claim that they need not conform to societal norms, insisting on being accepted for who they are. Yet beyond individuality lies the enduring presence of universal values, foremost among them, respect. True freedom does not exist in the absence of responsibility; it flourishes when guided by conscience and concern for others. The concept of the greater good must remain at the heart of this freedom, for when liberty is exercised without restraint or regard for others, it no longer uplifts, it descends into disorder. Indeed, democracy thrives not through unbounded expression, but through the balance of rights and respect.

Manners must still be uplifted and practiced. In an age where self-expression often overshadows respect and where digital spaces blur the boundaries of civility, the simple act of showing courtesy becomes a quiet but powerful assertion of humanity. Manners are not mere formalities; they are the invisible threads that hold communities together, reminding us that dignity is mutual and kindness is universal. To practice good manners is to affirm that, despite the noise of modern life, grace and respect still matter, and they begin with each of us.

Long after words are forgotten, it is our manners that people remember.

Where Compassion Begins

 

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Malakip an iban!

Lately, social media has become a cacophony of voices talking about mental health, sparked by the tragic news of Emman Atienza’s passing. Timelines are flooded with messages of sympathy, calls for kindness, and campaigns urging compassion for those battling anxiety and depression. Yet, amid this chorus of empathy, quiet contradictions drift beneath the surface: voices that speak of compassion, but hearts that falter when it is most needed.

You see, mental health is not confined to cases of depression that lead to self-harm. It also encompasses other conditions, often overlooked, where individuals struggle with psychological disorders that may cause them to harm others.

When we talk about mental health, we often picture depression or self-harm, but the reality is broader and more complex. Some psychological conditions, such as untreated personality disorders, unresolved trauma, or chronic stress, can manifest in behaviors that hurt others, not always through physical aggression but through emotional harm, manipulation, or insensitivity. Research shows that disorders like narcissistic, borderline, or antisocial personality patterns can lead individuals to act in ways that damage relationships and emotional well-being (American Psychiatric Association, 2022; Campbell & Miller, 2011). Still, it is essential to remember that most people with mental health conditions are not violent; harmful behaviors arise when psychological issues remain unacknowledged or untreated.

Yes, we often extend compassion to those who suffer in silence, but what about those who choose to inflict pain loudly and deliberately? What about the people who insult others in public spaces, or the leaders who oppress because they’re intoxicated by their own power? What about those who refuse to listen, who dismiss feedback, and continue to wound others just to satisfy their pride? How do we respond to them? What kind of compassion do they deserve?

When someone is told they exhibit such behaviors and simply shrug it off with, “That’s just who I am,” it shows a lack of self-reflection and perhaps even self-awareness. Denial, when left unchecked, becomes a cycle; and when that cycle persists, so does the madness.

According to Goleman (2006), self-awareness is the foundation of emotional growth, it allows individuals to recognize how their actions affect others. When people remain in denial, they create a psychological barrier that prevents change and reinforces dysfunctional patterns (Vaillant, 1992). Without reflection, this cycle of denial and defensiveness can harden into behavior that harms both themselves and those around them.

A superiority complex is, in many ways, a mental health concern, but it’s rarely talked about. Society often normalizes it, especially when displayed by those in positions of power. This mindset often evolves into something more systemic, seen not just in individuals but in institutions where authority feeds delusion. We tend to accept that some leaders or government officials are entitled to act that way, as if arrogance were part of authority. Recent studies even suggest that corruption among some congressmen, contractors, and officials within agencies like the DPWH persists not merely because of greed, but because people have learned to tolerate it (Acemoglu & Robinson, 2019). When entitlement goes unchallenged, it becomes a cycle sustained by silence.

Yes, we extend compassion to those who are struggling with depression, but accountability must also be part of the conversation. We must not remain silent toward those who misuse their power and cause harm to others, individuals whose unresolved psychological issues manifest as oppression or emotional abuse. Those in authority (like those with excessive greed) bear an even greater responsibility for their own mental wellness, for their actions affect not only themselves but the people they lead. When they refuse to acknowledge their behavior or seek help, society’s role is to raise awareness, not to ridicule, but to confront such dysfunction so they may regain clarity and seek professional intervention.

In the end, we also have the right to protect our own peace: to guard our mental well-being from those who threaten it, don’t we?

When Will We Ever Learn?

 

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Unoy pa gajod mahitabo para maleksyon…

There’s a saying that goes, learn from your mistakes. It sounds simple enough, but not everyone is wired to take that route. It takes a certain level of self-awareness, and perhaps a measure of humility, to pause and say, maybe I was wrong.

But that’s not how it works for everyone. Take those who often struggle with self-reflection, for instance. They seldom consider that the mistake might be their own, finding it easier to place the blame elsewhere. Such a mindset makes learning more difficult, and the repetition of the same lesson almost inevitable.

Research suggests that self-reflection and emotional regulation are key components in learning from failure, yet not all personalities are inclined toward such introspection. Some individuals with a heightened sense of self-focus, for example, tend to externalize blame and struggle to acknowledge their own faults, making it difficult for them to benefit from personal setbacks (Miller, Campbell, & Pilkonis, 2007). This resistance to accountability can hinder growth and perpetuate the same errors over time.

When a person does not acknowledge a higher or divine presence, much like those who rely solely on their perceived control, they often fail to grasp the idea of divine or external interventions. Instead of recognizing a force greater than themselves, they anchor their confidence on their own superiority. Even in cultures steeped in beliefs of karma or moral balance, such individuals may still dismiss these concepts. Their sense of entitlement and self-righteousness overrides any openness to the idea that consequences may stem from forces beyond their own making.

As a result, they fail to see their mistakes or negative experiences as potential signs: whether divine warnings or the universe’s quiet response to the energy they project. Instead of viewing setbacks as meaningful reflections of their actions, they often dismiss them as mere coincidences or the fault of others.

So, when does a person ever truly learn? Must one encounter even more disastrous experiences before pausing to reflect, questioning whether these events are warnings or consequences? Or will they continue to dwell in the illusion of being all-knowing, resistant to insight and untouched by humility?

Ultimately, growth depends on a person’s ability to step back and question their own assumptions. When someone consistently dismisses their role in setbacks or avoids the idea that there might be something to learn from difficult experiences, change becomes unlikely. It’s not always about divine warnings or cosmic balance, but sometimes, paying attention to patterns and outcomes is what quietly pushes a person forward.

The true test is not in what happens around us, but in whether we choose to notice, or must we again await something grander, harsher, or more devastating to remind us of the quiet wisdom humility has always sought to impart?

Perhaps humility has never been absent, only unheard beneath the noise of our own pride. When we finally choose to listen, not through grand events or painful reckonings but through the quiet rhythm of everyday life, we rediscover what it means to be human: to see, to feel, and to be grateful for even the smallest truths that call us back to grace.

 

When We Are Shaken

 

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Hujong pati an kayag!

When the earth shook, we were reminded of how fragile our sense of control truly is. In that fleeting moment, all that seemed certain was swept away, and we found ourselves clinging to the divine. Some called out to God in fear, others in quiet surrender, but all were united by the same yearning for safety and grace.

Cristina Chi of The Philippine Star reported that a magnitude 7.5 earthquake struck off the coast of Davao Oriental at around 9:43 a.m. on October 10, triggering tsunami warnings and widespread alarm across Mindanao. Initially recorded at magnitude 7.6 before being later revised, the powerful tremor’s epicenter was located offshore near the municipality of Manay and was strongly felt in several parts of Mindanao and neighboring regions.

We were on the fourth floor of a hotel for an educational engagement when the tremor struck. I calmly instructed the participants to follow the safety procedures we had long practiced during earthquake drills, yet many instinctively ran for safety in panic. As I took cover under a table, I silently prayed for the shaking to stop. The thirty seconds felt much longer: intense, disorienting, and deeply unsettling. When it was over, several of my companions were visibly shaken, some even traumatized by the experience.

Later, as emotions poured out on social media, mixed with humor, fear, and even a flood of memes, I found myself reflecting on our collective response. Have we become so desensitized that even calamity becomes a subject of entertainment? In moments like this, I wonder if we are gradually losing our empathy and evolving into an indifferent species.

Natural disasters often expose both our vulnerability and our humanity. In moments of crisis, such as during an earthquake, individuals respond with instinctive fear or calm composure depending on their sense of preparedness and meaning making (Becker et al., 2017; Lindell & Perry, 2012). Yet, as emotions spill over into social media, reactions can shift from empathy to detachment, where humor and memes blur the line between coping and desensitization (Vasterman et al., 2005). This raises moral questions about our collective sensitivity and compassion in a digital age that easily turns tragedy into spectacle (Bloom, 2016; Zaki, 2020).

The calamities we experience in the Philippines continually remind us of our shared vulnerability and our enduring humanity. They compel us to take precautions and to care not only for ourselves but also for those around us. In moments like these, our priorities are realigned toward what truly matters. Material possessions may fade or be lost, but the kindness we extend and the relationships we nurture endure. Ultimately, the meaning of our existence is not measured by what we accumulate, but by how deeply and selflessly we serve others.

Those who fear the most are often those deeply attached to their possessions. Their anxiety stems from the thought that everything they have worked hard for, their homes, cars, and material investments, could vanish in an instant, reduced to rubble. The greater the attachment, the deeper the fear. When our sense of security is anchored on what we own, we become vulnerable to losing peace of mind the moment these things are threatened.

The tremors we experienced remind us to remain humble and grounded. They teach us to focus on what truly matters, rather than investing our emotions in things that are fleeting. In the face of uncertainty, we are called to place greater value on what endures: genuine relationships, acts of kindness, love for the environment, and respect for others. These are the foundations that sustain us when everything else begins to shake.

In the end, every tremor reminds us that nothing in this world is permanent, except the strength of a humble heart and the goodness we share with others.

When One Ignores Resistance

 

                                              (image: youtube.com)

Magbantay lamang kay bas mahitukyod!

Resistance exists everywhere, especially when individuals are placed in uncomfortable situations brought about by natural phenomena, imposed by leaders, or enforced by institutions.

At its core, resistance is a human response to power and control. Foucault (1978) argues that where there is power, there is also resistance, suggesting that opposition is a natural counterbalance within any social system. Similarly, Scott (1985) explains that even ordinary individuals find ways to resist authority, whether through open protest or subtle acts of defiance. Institutions, such as schools or governments, often establish rules that may not always align with the values or comfort of the people, which in turn can spark resistance (Giroux, 2011).

Leaders of institutions or even small organizations must recognize this phenomenon, not to simply yield to the whims and demands of their members, but to genuinely consider the well-being of the people they serve. Neglecting this responsibility may drive individuals to express their discontent in various forms of resistance, ultimately placing leaders at risk of being displaced.

Recent national events reveal visible forms of resistance, such as rallies, protests, and walkouts from schools and government offices. These actions stem from widespread frustration over blatant corruption, systemic oppression, and the deep social inequalities perpetuated by politicians, political dynasties, and even contractors and engineers who allegedly misuse public funds for personal comfort.

Such collective actions reflect how citizens challenge systems of power that appear to favor the elite while disregarding the needs of ordinary people. Tarrow (2011) notes that collective action often arises when inequalities become too visible to ignore, while Scott (1990) emphasizes that resistance can be both overt, like protests, and covert, through everyday acts of defiance. In the Philippine context, Abinales and Amoroso (2017) highlight how corruption and patronage politics have long fueled public dissent, showing that resistance is deeply rooted in the struggle for fairness and accountability.

The lesson for any individual, especially those in management and leadership roles, is to embrace a leadership style rooted in genuine care rather than being driven by selfish intentions born of unchecked desires or psychological deficits. Leaders must cultivate self-awareness and ensure that equality and fairness are consistently upheld within their organizations, creating environments where people feel valued and respected.

Otherwise, resistance will become increasingly difficult to address and may manifest in ways that undermine organizational stability and harmony.

Ultimately, resistance is not merely an obstacle but a signal, a reminder for leaders to ground their actions in care, fairness, and self-awareness. When leadership fails to honor the dignity and well-being of people, resistance becomes inevitable; but when it succeeds, it transforms potential conflict into collective strength.

The Garbage of Madmen

 

                                               (image: youtube.com)

Sila an malipa!

“Garbage.” This was the chilling term the bagman used to describe the millions of people’s money stuffed into luggage: funds intended for public welfare but instead funneled into the pockets of greedy politicians who shamelessly demanded their cuts from government projects, as though the nation’s coffers were their personal property.

Marc Jayson Cayabyab of The Philippine Star reported that a Senate Blue Ribbon hearing saw former Marine Master Sergeant Orly Regala Guteza testify he had delivered 46 Rimowa suitcases, each containing ₱48 million, to the residences of Ako Bicol Rep. Zaldy Co and then House Speaker Martin Romualdez. Introduced by Sen. Rodante Marcoleta, who at times seemed to guide him through his affidavit, Guteza described the cash as “basura,” or contraband, alleging it came from illegal kickbacks in flood control projects.

The Rimowa suitcase, a symbol of luxury and affluence, became the unlikely vessel for illicit millions. Its polished image stood in stark contrast to the contents it carried, cash dismissed as “garbage.” This jarring juxtaposition exposes the moral bankruptcy of corruption, where public wealth is both flaunted through luxury and demeaned as worthless contraband.

From here, the contrast becomes even more painful: the haunting images of the poor, submerged in floodwaters, some losing their lives to the calamity itself, others to the diseases it inevitably brings. And yet, to greedy politicians and complicit government workers, such suffering seems to mean nothing. Do they see these people too as mere “garbage,” collateral damage in the service of their insatiable greed?

Psychology offers a disturbing lens for such behavior. Psychopathy is recognized as a personality disorder marked by a lack of empathy, remorse, and concern for the suffering of others (Hare, 1999). In the context of systemic corruption, where greed overpowers moral responsibility and the well-being of others is disregarded, one cannot help but ask: what form of collective insanity does such behavior reveal?

Bandura’s (1999) theory of moral disengagement provides one answer, explaining how individuals rationalize unethical conduct by minimizing harm, displacing responsibility, or dehumanizing victims. When such mechanisms are normalized within institutions, corruption becomes embedded in organizational culture, numbing moral sensibilities on a societal scale.

Similarly, Sykes and Matza’s (1957) techniques of neutralization shed light on how perpetrators of corruption justify their actions: through denial of injury (“everyone does it”), denial of victim (“the government has plenty of money”), or appeal to higher loyalties (“I must serve my political allies”). These rationalizations allow systemic greed to thrive while silencing guilt.

Taken together, these perspectives suggest that the “collective insanity” of corruption is not necessarily a psychiatric disorder but rather a social pathology, an entrenched moral dysfunction that operates through shared rationalizations, structural impunity, and the normalization of greed. It demonstrates how systemic corruption corrodes not only governance but also the ethical foundations of society.

Thus, when those in authority begin to see others as mere “garbage,” their moral decay deepens into a kind of collective insanity, where humanity is stripped away, and greed becomes the only logic that governs their actions.

Systemic corruption, then, reflects a kind of collective derangement: a pathological fixation on greed that legitimizes harm to others as collateral. This normalization of harm, carried out in the name of power and wealth, makes corruption resemble a society-wide form of madness.

Look closely at the actions of some of our leaders: they vehemently deny their own greed, shift blame onto scapegoats, and strip themselves of any sense of guilt. In doing so, they exhibit a dangerous form of insanity, one that not only corrodes the moral fabric of society but also carries within it the seeds of their own eventual destruction.

In the end, it is they who embody the real garbage: the corrupt and the greedy, not the people whose lives they exploit and demean.

Of Greed, Insanity and Upheaval

 

                                                   (image: youtube.com/ one news ph)

Maniid lamang ta.

What becomes of an organization when its leader struggles with mental challenges? If psychological issues remain unaddressed, how might they cascade downward, influencing the very people under their management? Such a scenario poses a profound difficulty—one that can disrupt not only team dynamics but also the overall performance and well-being of the organization.

In the same way, what becomes of a nation when its leaders are consumed by a sickness of the mind—where greed corrodes their values and integrity? Even when their corruption is laid bare, they persist, striving to normalize greed as though it were an acceptable standard. Such moral decay not only undermines governance but also erodes the ethical foundations upon which a country’s future depends.

This concern is not merely theoretical. Cristina Chi of The Philippine Star reported that thousands are expected to gather on Sunday, September 21, at Luneta and the EDSA People Power Monument for rallies denouncing corruption in flood-control projects. These demonstrations coincide with the 53rd anniversary of Ferdinand Marcos Sr.’s 1972 declaration of martial law, a date long remembered by activists as a time of dictatorship abuses and resistance against authoritarian rule. Organizers of the “Baha Sa Luneta” protest — composed of students and groups such as the Campaign Against the Return of the Marcoses and Martial Law — emphasize that their call is not only to condemn present-day corruption but also to prevent the repetition of past deceptions, abuses, and plunder.

To a discerning observer, such developments may evoke parallels with Nepal, where members of Generation Z, disillusioned by systemic corruption, resorted to violence and stripped public officials of their dignity. The unchecked greed of leaders appeared to seep into the consciousness of the youth, who, overwhelmed by a government they could no longer endure, erupted in fury and chaos.

This raises a critical question: Why do leaders succumb to excessive greed? Is it the intoxication of power, the erosion of moral restraint, or the false belief that wealth and influence can shield them from accountability? Whatever the cause, unchecked avarice not only corrodes their integrity but also imperils the very society they are sworn to serve.

Research supports this concern. When accountability mechanisms are fragile, leaders are more likely to rationalize self-serving behaviors at the expense of public welfare (Kipnis, 2013). Moreover, systemic corruption perpetuates greed by normalizing unethical conduct, creating a cycle difficult to break (Transparency International, 2023). As Collier (2017) argues, unchecked greed in governance erodes public trust and undermines democratic institutions, paving the way for political instability.

The youth, in particular, often respond when they perceive that the social contract has been broken—when corruption, greed, or abuse of power makes the future appear bleak and unlivable. History demonstrates that younger generations, driven by justice and idealism, are quick to challenge oppressive systems once they conclude that institutions no longer serve the public good (Inglehart & Welzel, 2005). Their dissent emerges not merely from anger, but also from frustration at being silenced and from the urgency to reclaim a future stolen by systemic failures (Feixa et al., 2019). In this sense, youthful revolt becomes both a cry of protest and an act of hope.

Against this backdrop, the Philippine situation cannot be taken lightly. Amid corruption controversies, where public officials are increasingly scrutinized for exploiting resources at the expense of citizens, the possibility of mass outrage cannot be discounted. Comparable incidents have already unfolded in Nepal, where Finance Minister Bishnu Prasad Paudel was forcibly stripped and driven into a river by protesters during youth-led demonstrations against government misconduct (Gulf News, 2025).

Such episodes illustrate how deep frustration with systemic corruption can escalate into acts of public humiliation and unrest, underscoring the urgency of addressing governance failures before they ignite social upheaval.

The president, whose father was once toppled by a People Power uprising, must therefore reflect more deeply. History has a way of repeating itself when its lessons are ignored, and when leaders allow greed and corruption to poison the foundations of governance, the people will inevitably reclaim their voice.