(image: youtube.com)
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.
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