IV.
We left my aunt's place in Paranaque at six in the morning so we could reach the retreat house in Tagaytay before 8 am. The travel was uneventful along South Expressway save for the overcast sky reflecting my mood as we ascend the hills of Cavite. The weather was cool and crisp when we arrived there and after writing my name at the registration booth, my female cousin and I separated ways so we could settle down to our designated cottages.
I would be having a room mate and as I walk past other male retreat attendees, I wished mine would be interesting enough to spice up my two days stay away from the city.
Thrice I knocked at the door. Nobody answered. Since he arrived earlier and we had to share a single key, probably he was asleep.
After a few minutes, my room mate opened the door.
"Pasensya na, naka-idlip ako." He was rubbing his right eye with his left hand.
"Ayos lang. My name is Joms, and you are?" I gave my brimming smile hoping that we could connect.
"Phillip, tuloy ka bro." He shook my hand.
"Not bad," I told myself while dropping my bag beside the bed. "Ulam na rin ito kahit paano."
V.
Phillip was not bad looking, but he fell a little below my standards. His smooth brown skin was a turn on, his short height and plump physique needed a little refinement.
However if companionship is what I sought, Phillip could pass as a friend or maybe even a flirt buddy. He was nice enough to accommodate me, but the shirt he wore revealed the kind of person I would share the room with. Plastered on it were quotes from the Book of Matthew. On his bedside lay the Bible and some self-help books to guide him during the retreat. He was too saintly to be corrupted. It would be best to strike elsewhere.
VI.
The opening mass was officiated by a geriatric priest named Father John. I sat infront next to my room mate who listened attentively to the Homily. My head turned at every direction searching for my missing cousin and scouting for some cute guys I could introduce myself after the Eucharist was over. Surrounding me were pompous ladies in their sixties and seventies, couples in the prime of their married life and some ladies and gentlemen of my age who spoke more "hallelujahs" and "praise be to God" rather than the expletives I splat whenever someone pisses me off.
"I'm too sinful to be with these people," I mumbled.
Don't get the impression that I just sought to unleash my repression in the holiest of places. In truth, I was more concerned that the troubles I brought would prevent me from experiencing the bliss assured by those who recommended the retreat.
A flashback before the holy mass began proved my sincerity: While walking towards the conference hall, I prayed to that one being who would care to listen to open my heart for healing and reflection. A flashback still, while waiting for my aunt to board her SUV going back to Manila: She told me "to see this retreat as an opportunity to gather strength for the battles that lie ahead." Rarely does she smile to people, but as she entered her vehicle, she did smile to me and that smile remained in my head till the letting go part of the reflection later that night.
VII.
The answer to my prayer came shortly after I sought it. Seldom do I attend masses and rarely do I participate in singing songs of worship. All I asked was to feel welcome in that retreat, and as the priest uttered this phrase, which we often sing in most masses, it played in my ears like a personal greeting from Bro himself.
"Blessed is he who come, in the name of the Lord..."
For the first time after stepping foot at Angel Hills, I felt my burdens getting lighter.
---
-tobecontinued-
We left my aunt's place in Paranaque at six in the morning so we could reach the retreat house in Tagaytay before 8 am. The travel was uneventful along South Expressway save for the overcast sky reflecting my mood as we ascend the hills of Cavite. The weather was cool and crisp when we arrived there and after writing my name at the registration booth, my female cousin and I separated ways so we could settle down to our designated cottages.
I would be having a room mate and as I walk past other male retreat attendees, I wished mine would be interesting enough to spice up my two days stay away from the city.
Thrice I knocked at the door. Nobody answered. Since he arrived earlier and we had to share a single key, probably he was asleep.
After a few minutes, my room mate opened the door.
"Pasensya na, naka-idlip ako." He was rubbing his right eye with his left hand.
"Ayos lang. My name is Joms, and you are?" I gave my brimming smile hoping that we could connect.
"Phillip, tuloy ka bro." He shook my hand.
"Not bad," I told myself while dropping my bag beside the bed. "Ulam na rin ito kahit paano."
V.
Phillip was not bad looking, but he fell a little below my standards. His smooth brown skin was a turn on, his short height and plump physique needed a little refinement.
However if companionship is what I sought, Phillip could pass as a friend or maybe even a flirt buddy. He was nice enough to accommodate me, but the shirt he wore revealed the kind of person I would share the room with. Plastered on it were quotes from the Book of Matthew. On his bedside lay the Bible and some self-help books to guide him during the retreat. He was too saintly to be corrupted. It would be best to strike elsewhere.
VI.
The opening mass was officiated by a geriatric priest named Father John. I sat infront next to my room mate who listened attentively to the Homily. My head turned at every direction searching for my missing cousin and scouting for some cute guys I could introduce myself after the Eucharist was over. Surrounding me were pompous ladies in their sixties and seventies, couples in the prime of their married life and some ladies and gentlemen of my age who spoke more "hallelujahs" and "praise be to God" rather than the expletives I splat whenever someone pisses me off.
"I'm too sinful to be with these people," I mumbled.
Don't get the impression that I just sought to unleash my repression in the holiest of places. In truth, I was more concerned that the troubles I brought would prevent me from experiencing the bliss assured by those who recommended the retreat.
A flashback before the holy mass began proved my sincerity: While walking towards the conference hall, I prayed to that one being who would care to listen to open my heart for healing and reflection. A flashback still, while waiting for my aunt to board her SUV going back to Manila: She told me "to see this retreat as an opportunity to gather strength for the battles that lie ahead." Rarely does she smile to people, but as she entered her vehicle, she did smile to me and that smile remained in my head till the letting go part of the reflection later that night.
VII.
The answer to my prayer came shortly after I sought it. Seldom do I attend masses and rarely do I participate in singing songs of worship. All I asked was to feel welcome in that retreat, and as the priest uttered this phrase, which we often sing in most masses, it played in my ears like a personal greeting from Bro himself.
"Blessed is he who come, in the name of the Lord..."
For the first time after stepping foot at Angel Hills, I felt my burdens getting lighter.
---
-tobecontinued-
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